And so, Krahe set off for that place; the ship was not nestled quietly in the corner, but was in fact the largest one. Garvesh’s debtor plied his trade from deep within its bowels, and given the fact none of the crew stopped her as she walked into areas obviously not meant for normal passengers, she wagered that they had been paid off. She arrived at a modified bulkhead with a small vault door embedded in it at roughly chest height, and an intercom to the side. Well, not quite an intercom. It was an antique-looking telephone handset bolted to the wall. Below it was a keyboard from a Dregstrider, requiring her to dial the six-digit number Garvesh had given her to even speak to the proprietor.
“Who…” a hissing, snake-like voice came from past the bulkhead.
“Garvesh sent me regarding his recently called-in favour.”
“I don’t know who…” came the voice again, uncertain.
“I wasn’t finished,” Krahe interrupted. “He wants you to know that he hopes you haven’t forgotten what he did at the Spire of Glass.”
An agitated hiss burst from the earpiece, and the sound cut out, the other side having hung up. Before she could grow uneasy, the vault door slowly opened inward, the scarred face of a serpent-man staring at her from the other side; he was no mythical gorgon, but a lanky humanoid with a neck that curved in a question-mark shape to allow his diamond-shaped head a forward orientation. An eyepatch-like prosthetic supplanted his left eye, and numerous scars broke up his venomous-looking, red-yellow scale pattern. He set a small, sandstone box on the counter, slid it over to her side, and shut the window forcefully enough to blow a gust of wind in her face. It smelled astonishingly similar to Firminus’ office, only more herbal. As for the box, it had no hinges, only a rectangular lid, which bore cuneiform symbols on its surface. Krahe wasted no time in bringing it back, as awkward as transporting it was.
“Aristedes! Wake up!” came a stern woman’s voice. Casus faded back to consciousness, having fallen asleep in his seat a few hours prior. A set of ominous, purple-glowing eyes stared down at him from a pale, narrow face framed by black hair at the sides, blunt bangs tracing the woman’s browline in a dull V-shape, intensifying her already owl-like countenance. The glossy blackness of her hair was broken up by eye-like sigils in white, defiantly remaining congruent even as her hair shifted about, creating an unsettling appearance. Casus was used to the idea of having eyes in the back, and he was slowly growing used to Lady Blackhand’s detached second set of eyes, but this woman felt more all-seeing than the two of them combined, exuding an aura of constant, unwavering vigilance.
The Witch Inquisitor, Yazata Heptaxia.
She wore a partially unbuttoned satin shirt and tight black pants with cutouts on the outer sides of the thighs. It was a mode of dress similar to Casus’ own, but the similarities between the two of them ended there. Of the countless differences between the two of them, the most obvious were the “Black Bindings” visibly crisscrossing Yazata’s skin, visible upon her thighs, over the very top of her chest, and going all the way up her neck, even peeking out of the bottoms of her sleeves. Eldritch symbols shone upon them in hues of purple the same as the glow of the inquisitor’s eyes. A rapier-hilted bar mace hung from her belt, held by steel rings rather than a scabbard. It was a weapon of countless diamond-shaped, razor-sharp facets.
She walked away from him the moment she saw he was awake, turning to the one-way observation window. A minimalistic control console rose from the ground in front of the window, a handful of black cables leading down from it to beneath the floor. Yazata’s footsteps were punctuated with sharp click-clacking sounds, not because she wore heels, but because her feet were metal, as were her legs all the way up to the knees. Her trousers were bound down to her prosthetics with those Black Bindings of hers, leaving them exposed halfway up the calves. The craftsmanship was of a standard equalled by few - they were Inner Relics, after all, made by the church for Yazata specifically. Rather than mimicking human anatomy to the fullest extent, her prosthetics traded biomimicry for improved functionality and resilience, with a simpler, more heavy-duty foot and ankle design.
There was no need for her to speak of the situation; Seer was doing all the talking that was necessary.
“I’ve got him! The little shit’s fuckin’ pinging me! Can you hear me, inquisitor?! I know where Semzar Hashem is RIGHT NOW!” Seer yelled in desperation, doubtlessly because he worried there was not much time.
Yazata reached for the console, and with the flick of a switch, the observation window shifted to go both ways. Depressing an adjacent button, she took a mouthpiece in hand and spoke: “You may now give your testimony, we are recording.”
Seer continued without the need for any further prompting: “He’s been intermittently pinging me for the last hour or so, I didn’t speak up until I was sure he was in one place and not just passing through. It’s the mansion on Mirzaii 2.”
“Old Ishmail Two-snakes’ mansion… Isn’t it owned by a Silversword administrator?” Casus thought aloud. He didn’t know who exactly owned Mirzaii 2, but he knew her position due to the controversy surrounding her acquisition of the property. Ishmail had been a once-famous ex-contractor who pioneered the Twin Serpent Voidkey design as standard equipment for his agency’s full-member contractors. The so-called Iron Adder Agency competed fiercely with the Silversword Agency for dominance in Audunpoint’s early years, but collapsed after Ishmail’s disappearance under dubious circumstances.
“I wouldn’t know about that. I just know that Semzar likes to host his degenerate parties there. It’s where this happened to me, so I won’t weep if you send a saint to level the place,” Seer replied with a gesture to his visor, hatred seeping from every word.
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