Though he was only on his second day in Windust, Captain Lares Reed was already going mad.

  The place was atrocious to say the least, full of scum of the lowest order: pestilential prostitutes, knuckle-dragging bandits, and the loathsome weaklings of such dismaying condition that they could not even inspire pity in.

  He stood at the window of the room he’d been given, peering at two drunks shuffling down towards town, arms thrown around each other’s necks in abandonment and camaraderie.

  The sight annoyed Lares deeply.

  Everything about it.

  It was difficult for Lares to explain exactly why, but he would’ve enjoyed ripping out their windpipes and standing over their twitching, dying bodies.

  Thankfully, he had enough sense left at that moment to realize that he needed to keep his rage under control.

  It will come soon, just a little longer… he told himself. The dark one’s given his word.

  And if not…

  “Are you all right, mister?” a small voice asked.

  Lares turned to look at the company he’d kept for the last few hours. A beautiful face with smudged makeup and blonde curls in utter disarray peeked from tangle of sweated sheets on the bed.

  His red eyes traced her skinny white limbs as she clutched the sheets against her trembling form.

  And she was so fragile. All limbs tied behind him and he could’ve still torn her apart with his teeth.

  How delicious that would be, he thought, but immediately shook the notion from his mind.

  After all his recent misfortunes, the last thing he needed was to misstep and commit some dark deed. No, that’s not us, not anymore.

  It was true that that damned rezzam had turned him into an addict.

  But it had done so much more…

  It had embued him with strength. It honed his instincts.

  It sharpened his dull mind and made him think better and faster—gone were the days where a word escaped him.

  It showed him things he could never see on his own, both in what he saw in his eyes, and what he saw inside his own head.

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  More importantly, it had brought a clarity and stillness that, naturally, he simply lacked.

  For much of his life, Lares had combated the storm that raged inside him unsuccessfully. Everything from the desire to smash heads and spread legs had guided his every act, sabotaging him at every opportunity.

  But these last few years on the rezzam…

  They were, ironically, the years where he had felt like himself the most.

  Or maybe that’s the rezzam talking, he thought, a dark grin spreading over his features. I suppose we’ll never know.

  “Mister?” said the blonde, again, her voice wavering. What was her name? Layna? Keyna? Dayna? A forgettable one, to be sure.

  Lares understood the grotesque figure he must’ve struck as he stood before her. Stark naked, his body covered in scars, his long hair dangling by the side of his face, while his still hardened manhood pulsated between his legs.

  All while his red eyes followed her with predatory hunger and murderous intent.

  The poor thing, he thought. She has no fault in this.

  “Have you ever heard of the Arara Zerala?” he intoned.

  The blonde shook her head, half-scared of disapointing him. “N-No…”

  Lares sat at the edge of the bed, holding her gaze. “They were jewels, supposedly of such beauty that the queen who possessed them tossed them into the sea to protect the world from their power. I often wondered what they might look like, but I think your eyes have offered an intimation.”

  The rezzam did much, but it hadn’t made him terribly creative. The line was not only one he used many times over, but one he’d stolen.

  But it had its intended effect, as the blonde blushed and hid her face. “I can’t believe you said that…”

  “And why not?”

  “You just don’t look like the kinda man that would say that…”

  Lares grinned. “What kind of man do I look like?”

  At the words, Lady Elizabeth, who had deserted him by leaping through the window a few hours past to go on one of her adventures, suddenly jumped back in with a gleeful chirp. She landed in front of him and held out what looked to be a broken pipe.

  Her eyes gleamed expectantly as she offered it to him.

  They were, after all, soulmates.

  Lares smiled appreciatively and took it tenderly, then rubbed her head. “I thank you, my dear, however questionable the value and utility of your gifts, I know they’re always made with the purest intent.”

  Showing her agreement, Elizabeth chirped again and clambered up on his shoulder.

  “The monkey’s an odd touch too,” added the blonde.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” he said. “What kind of man would you say I look like?”

  For a moment, she weighed whether she should speak her mind, or do what she likely usually did, which was say what customers wanted to hear.

  She opted for the former: “The kind of man I wouldn’t want to meet.”

  Lares laughed with satisfaction. “Keen eyes on you.”

  There was a knock on the door.

  Lares stood up and went to get it without bothering to put anything on.

  After all, he had nothing to hide.

  On the other side of the door it turned out to be the bastard he wanted to see. “What I promised you is on its way,” said Nik. “Though not quite as I intended.”

  “That is good news.”

  Nik glanced behind him down the hallway, then leaned in and whispered unhappily, “Anders will be coming in personally to make a visit.”

  “And you wish for me to… speak with him?”

  A twitch of anger passed over Nik. “I am surely not suggesting you murder him in my establishment, if that is your question. You will approach him with the respect his position demands. The utmost respect.”

  It was obvious that his dark-skinned friend was rather irritated by this new development. He fears this Anders more than he lets on.

  As Nik turned to go, Lares said, “You strike me as the type of man who doesn’t like it when things don’t go to plan.”

  Nik stopped and turned his head back just slightly, looking deeply annoyed. “Oh? What gave it away?”