Valkyrie strode through the public spaces of the Grey Tower resolutely, Stella nearly having to run to keep pace with the taller girl’s longer stride. The lower few levels of the tower were mostly for curious citizens following bland tour guides through the Tower’s “treasures”, which were nothing more than replicas of actual artifacts the Order had in their possession, but even at this late hour there were several tourist groups wending their way along staircases and among the bright halls and rooms filled with worthless garbage. Valkyrie had no time to even wonder what tourists could possibly expect to find. Especially not at the moment.

They climbed through the tower steadily, ignoring the areas set aside for visiting mages and the few members of the Scholars who were looking for some hidden nugget in the uninspired collection of books the Circle kept in the easily accessible levels. Finally, the pair reached their goal, a grand staircase heading from the fifth floor up to the forbidden floors above. The stairs were guarded by four burly, humorless Seekers who eyed her and Stella warily for a moment before recognizing them and bowing in deference.

“Why does the Archon want to see us?” Stella asked, breathing heavily as the pair ascended the stairs beneath the outstretched arms of an ornate chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

“Why do you think?” Valkyrie snarled.

“I said I didn’t do it!” Stella insisted. 

“I doubt it’s that simple,” Valkyrie replied curtly as they approached the vault-like massive iron door at the top of the stairs where two more Seekers stood guard. She ignored the Seekers and placed her hand on the cool black panel on the right side of the door, Stella mirroring her actions on panel to the left. The magical wall guarding the door shimmered to life briefly before vanishing, allowing the two of them into the inner sanctum of the Grey Tower.

While the lower floors of the tower were ornate and bright and friendly with the latest Aregonia and Allicereum lights along the walls burning with brilliant magical flames, the inner sanctum floors were dull grey stone lit by guttering sconces of blue fire which licked heatlessly along the stone walls, giving off a grim admiral blue glow which seemed to be almost devoured by the claustrophobic closeness of the walls.

The airy windows of the lower floors were replaced by glowering dark portals, seemingly thrown into the design of the tower out of habit rather than to allow any sort of light into the catacomb of rooms and halls winding through the mid-levels. Glancing neither left nor right Valkyrie hurried through the dark halls before reaching another, then another then a fourth and fifth and sixth flight of stairs.

The stairs ended in a narrow hallway; a seventh flight of stairs opened to the north while a heavily guarded door sat directly in front of her. She bowed slightly to the guards who stepped aside knowingly. They were, of course, expected.

With a sigh to steady her nerves and ignoring Stella’s labored panting as she tried to catch her breath, she pushed the door open and emerged into a vast open chamber spanning nearly the entire circumference of the tower and reaching three stories high.

Arches reached overhead like sturdy, miserable branches, each adorned with ghastly gargoyles staring down in silent judgement. The wide windows lining the northern wall were dark in the gathering night but flecks of snow could be seen falling steadily beyond the wide panes of glass. An elegant Allicereum walkway arched from the door Valkyrie and Stella had entered from to an observation deck sitting below the windows. The slightly raised dais on the center of the platform was adorned with a single luxurious chair which gave a full view of the horrors being perpetrated in the recessed chamber below.

Rows of metal stands sat in lines, each connected by a sheaf of wires running along the floor like vipers to a central Allicereum transformer and then on to the despair batteries below the stone floor the stands stood on. Women, dozens of them were strapped into these stands, arms strapped to a crossbar over their head, legs banded together at the thigh and calf as they slumped impaled on the twin rods on the base of the stand.

Piping connected to needles inserted into one arm and both nipples pumped drugs into them. One drug enhanced their pain, making each orgasm a crashing waterfall of anguish and agony while yet another flooded the victim’s body with a powerful aphrodisiac making them ravenously lustful and keeping them in a constantly, maddeningly aroused state. The third and final drug prevented them from gaining the bliss of unconsciousness as orgasm after painful orgasm tore through them, eventually destroying their minds and bodies.

Most women had their eyes closed in anguish, but some stared straight ahead, their gazes unfixed and distant, their thoughts broken and no longer their own. Even through the leather gags their moans and screams echoed like distant banshees throughout the room in a dull cacophony of mixed anguish, despair, and horrible pleasure.

These devices were the stocks. Similar, but far more brutal than the relatively benign Despair Batteries and were at the very heart of the Tower’s influence and the Empire’s power and luxury. These machines drained the magical energy of those unfortunate enough to be cursed with magic but not blessed with magic powerful enough to be useful into giant batteries for use powering the lights in the bright tourist areas and scholarly libraries people ambled mindlessly through far below them.

Unlike the Batteries which were peopled by paid volunteers the stocks were filled with political prisoners, subversives, criminals or simply people who had displeased the Order in some way. The stocks were the stripped down, unapologetically brutal child of a system which always lusted for more power, more influence, more magic and more misery. A system Valkyrie supported with her actions, she mused ruefully.

Valkyrie felt a wave of hopelessness and fear well up in her heart, threatening to overwhelm her but she forced it down through sheer force of will and kept her eyes on the figure seated naked on the chair. The woman who had invented these devices. The woman the world knew as the Archon.

Valkyrie desperately wanted to plug her ears. To block out the plaintive, muffled wailing from the victims being tortured below her feet but forced herself forward, step by step until she stood several feet in front of the Archon. She noticed the other woman dressed in an elegant skirt of deep blue, tall blue boots and a silk tunic with an open white vest standing a short distance away.

The woman smirked at her and doffed the dainty top hat perched atop her blonde hair mockingly. She was beautiful, cold, and arrogant. Her full lips, thin face and piercing blue eyes were all achingly familiar. Valkyrie’s eyes narrowed and her heart pounded in her chest. Valkyrie could guess easily enough why that bitch was there. It certainly didn’t mean she liked it, though. Valkyrie quickly tore her eyes away and back to the Archon.

“I’m glad to see you made it,” the Archon lifted her gaze from the spectacle below and settled her dark eyes on Valkyrie. Valkyrie bowed low, sweeping her arm to the side elegantly as she crossed her right leg behind her left in a show of respect.

“Yes, Dark Mother,” she replied automatically.

“I see you’ve returned without my prize,” Alexandra Webb glanced behind Valkyrie and Stella toward the empty walkway in a show of searching for something.

“Regula Praetoria got to her first,” Valkyrie straightened and raised her eyes to meet Alexandra’s. The depths of her brown eyes seemed to roil like a deep pool, grabbing and holding Valkyrie fast in their depths.

“Ah, yes,” The Archon sighed dramatically and nodded her head sadly. “Thus, your need to see if we have a whisperer. That makes sense, then. However, why is it, do you think, they got to her first?”

“I- “Valkyrie began before the Archon cut her off with a gesture. Plainly it was a rhetorical question, and she would provide the answer she was searching for.

“Why, oh why?” Alexandra asked, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Could it be because my best Inquisitor was out of the city? Could that be the cause of that Imperial bitch getting her dainty little claws into my prize was because you were in the middle of fucking nowhere in Crowfall?” Alexandra gripped the arms of her chair tightly until her knuckles turned white. “And why, precisely were you in Crowfall?”

“I had permission, Dark Mother,” Valkyrie replied steadily. She was being baited and, while she desperately wanted to respond, doing so would be very, very unwise. And not just for Stella and her.

“Not from me!” Alexandra raged, her voice echoing through the room, bellowing above the din of the tortured below. “Not from me did you have permission!” Valkyrie remained motionless, ignoring the smug look on the beautiful face of the woman nearby. Alexandra took a deep breath and closed her eyes as if to regain her composure.

“I apologize, Dark Mother,” Valkyrie bowed her head.

“Val, Val, Val,” Alexandra sighed and leaned back once more, shaking her head sadly. “You are the best Inquisitor I’ve got. You’re efficient, you know your job and, fucking hell you’re good at it. But I can sense you slipping, Val. We both know the consequences if you slip, don’t we?”

“Yes, Dark Mother,” Valkyrie once again refused to take the bait, pushing down the raging anger threatening to overwhelm her.

“It was not easy getting the whisperer into Regula Praetoria,” Alexandra shook her head. “There was much time and expense involved and now to throw all that away because of a failure of my best. It’s tragic is what it is. It’s just fucking sad.”

“I know, Dark Mother,” Valkyrie replied woodenly.

“Well, it can’t be helped, I suppose,” Alexandra sighed deeply again. “Very well. We will rouse the whisperer. You’ll have my new toy’s location tomorrow. This is your last chance. Do not make me send Astrid to do your job. None of us would relish that sort of thing. Well, except Astrid, I suppose.”

“I won’t fail,” Valkyrie bowed again.

“I know you won’t, because if you did the repercussions would be…unpleasant,” Alexandra reiterated. The Archon spread her legs and dipped one finger between her thighs, slipping it languidly along her slippery, swollen lips before extending the hand toward Valkyrie. The Archon’s finger glistened with her wetness; a drop gathered on the tip before falling to the ground. Taking a deep breath to steal herself against the humiliation and rage building inside her, Valkyrie leaned forward and licked the Archon’s juice from the proffered finger subserviently. Alexandra smiled but her dark eyes roiled dangerously. “Last chance, Val. If you can't think of your own future, at least think of Stella and your sister's.”