I awoke in a gray room. This was becoming an unwelcome trend in this new world. This room was more specific and far less welcoming than the rooms in Mord’s dungeon. It was a cell. I was a prisoner. Again.

  I cannot fault the Emir for locking me up. I came off a little unhinged and surprised as I executed my plan. Aside from the Minotaurs, I had yet to account for anyone of significant power. I was confident that the Emir had a trick or two up his furry sleeves, but I had hedged my bet on it being self-protecting, that and that he wouldn’t face an uncertain adversary if he weren’t forced to. He seemed a reasonable person and probably quite……

  I broke my train of thought. How could I be accepting of a slaver in any fashion? In my old world? I wouldn’t. I knew that for a fact. In this one? All I could think of was manipulation. I could cast magic and bend the very fabric of reality to my will. Someone being able to make people like them was well within the realm of possibility. I was curious about what Concept the Emir had and what his power was precisely. I could feel my hate rising for the gnoll, but it was fighting against a strong compulsion to like him. Maybe he was alright after all. Godddamit! That was an annoying power. I needed to figure out how to resist it. I wasn’t sure how strong, relatively, my abilities were, but given the lack of overt examples, I still needed to make sure it was me and only me who controlled them. Well, maybe Vex, but as a goddess, she was exempt from such scrutiny.

  I started to assess my situation. My lack of aura-sense in the area around me was disconcerting but expected. It still felt like a sense was cut off, but it was not as horrible as I had thought. I felt normal. That was the more concerning part. I didn’t feel all the extras I had gotten used to. A small chafing on my neck brought a new collar to my attention. That was probably a good explanation of the lack of senses.

  I strained against the collar’s suppressive effect to no avail. With my aura and object senses turned off, I had to resort to my hands to probe the collar. It felt like it was leather, a solid band with no stitching and no seams. It was smooth all the way around except for a sigil at the very front that was impressed into the leather, likely the Emir’s brand. It fit tightly against my neck without choking me. I couldn't even get my fingernail under the edge.

  “Ink?” I called out first in my head and then aloud.

  No trill in response. I know he was an aspect of ability, but he was also his own sentient creature. I was concerned that the suppression may have hurt him. If they had hurt him, it was full game on. I would leave this place a scorched ruin.

  I was still wearing clothes, but my memory was a bit foggy as to whether they were his creations or if I had put on fabricated ones in case.

  I fell to my knees. My amulet was still in place, but without my extra senses, I couldn’t be certain if he was still hiding it.

  My musing on Ink’s fate was interrupted by a door swinging open. Not my cell door, but one to the exterior room. This focused my attention outward. No one had entered through the door, so I was still alone. My cell appeared to be one of four similar ones. About five by ten, ringed on three sides by floor-to-ceiling metal bars. All four shared the stone wall at the back with the requisite foul-smelling trench along the bottom. There was an ample walkway around the exterior of the block of four. Across from the cells, closer to the still unoccupied doorway, was a pretty much open room with only an ominous-looking heavy chair and table to break up the space.

  I chuckled a little at the sight. I’ve DM’d enough campaigns with a torture chamber to know that this was exactly how I pictured it. I was starting to muse on why that was when the flickering of shadows alerted me to someone coming through the door.

  The minotaur had to duck to make it through the entry. That only served to make me laugh out loud.

  “I’m glad you find your situation amusing.”

  The voice came not from the minotaur but from the shadows that I had not even noticed in the corner that resolved itself into the shape of the same redhead from before.

  “Ah, cue the torturer.”

  “I prefer the term ‘Inquisitor’. Torture is a pointless application of pain. Even as punishment, the individual soon becomes so catatonic that it has no purpose other than to gratify the needs of some sadist. Now don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy it…” I was hit with a wave of rather harsh pain.

  “…..But I don’t get off on it….too much” More pain. She was still a good twenty feet from me and still able to drop me to my knees.

  It took a few seconds to recover from the attack, so my witty reply was said through somewhat still gritted teeth.

  “A pain aspect then. Impressive. A distance effect. Good intensity, a little weak still. I’m curious if contact will make it actually hurt.”

  She began to step forward, but the minotaur intervened.

  “M’Lady, not until he has been appropriately assessed. The Emir wouldn’t like….” He never got to say what the Emir wouldn’t like. His bellow of pain was too real to be an act.

  “Do not contradict me in front of the subject!”

  “She’s right, you know. Seriously undermines her authority. She needs to generate rapport with ‘the subject’ if she wants answers to whatever questions are resting in her ginger noggin. Love the color bee tee dubs.” I punctuated my statement with a wink. Yes, it was a bit on the nose, but I had a hunch. Well two. First, she wasn’t as good at this as those who had used me for practice in my old life. And two, she was more than likely from my old world. This place was too cliche to be real, and it was too new. The bars were rough-hammered but had very little rust, and there was no moss or lichen anywhere. The foul trench was almost designed to poorly drain, but the standing water showed no signs of being there long. I felt as if I was on a movie set or a haunted house, not a dungeon proper. It all felt forced and fake, except for the minotaur’s warning to the Lady. I decided to give it a try, so I lunged for the bars. I made it quite far before something tugged at my neck and I was drug to the ground. Not before my hand reached the bars, though, and reached right through them. Illusion.

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  “Nice skill. Hopefully, it gets stronger.”

  Red was upset by this. She tried to keep her face impassive, but even from this distance, I could see she was a little upset about me figuring out the charade so early. I decided to capitalize on the revelation and gain some social capital.

  “It all looked too new. The rust wasn't significant enough with the standing water, nor was there enough moss, algae, or lichen. But mostly you want to know what was missing?”

  Her face remained impassive, but I could still feel her itching for improvement.

  “The smell. Shit stinks, Princess. I’m guessing just visual illusion skill?”

  “……..” She murmured.

  “What?”

  “And audial….”

  “So that’s why I didn’t hear a chain.” I reached around to the back of my neck for whatever gave me the short stop, but felt nothing.

  “Magical tether. Emir Abul pulled out his best for you. Even a Willing would find it difficult. That you can stand and form a coherent sentence is, in itself, impressive.”

  “I aim to please. Please let me introduce myself. I’m Aris.” I gave a light bow and salutation. It was slightly mocking but not overtly so. This had no effect on the woman with the red hair. The Minotaur, however, was not pleased.

  “You are in the presence of The Lady Mercy, His Eminence Emir Abul A’dhalia’s High Inquisitor. You will treat her with respect. Now kneel.” This made Lady Mercy do a straight-up Face-palm.

  “He wasn’t being disrespectful, you dolt….he was baiting us. You gave him both mine and the Emir’s name and gained only his, which we already had…..you…..giant…..” She began smacking him on the part of his arm she could reach. “….cow-brained….dolt.”

  She continued to berate, what I assumed was her personal guard.

  “So I see you know how to play. That actually saves us some time. Are you OK with a simple ‘Rules, Merits, and Demerits’ System?”

  “Only you promise to be either an honest broker or play ‘the Stripper’.”

  “Oh? One demerit, but I’ll waive it for the free information. Good boy.”

  “Thank you, M’Lady. Correct address?”

  “Yes, Correct. First rule. I am in charge. Repeat.”

  “First Rule: I am in charge,” I smirked. The anticipated pain was intense but metered. Enough to remind me of the power dynamic, but not enough to affect my coherence. She had some Idea of what she was doing. We were still a ways from establishing our dynamic, but it was playing out nicely. I had a few more hunches to try out, but I had a feeling that Mercy and I had more in common than our minimal body hair.

  “Fair. First rule, you are in charge.”

  “And I am?”

  “Lady Mercy.”

  “Why do they call you that?”

  “Not your turn, but I will answer.” This time, I felt the pain everywhere. Lightly at first, but slowly building in intensity. After about ten seconds, it was reaching my threshold not to grimace. After thirty, I was starting to collapse to my knees. I want to think I made it a full minute before I passed out but the jury was out after forty-five seconds.

  “Because that’s the only ‘Mercy’ you will get from me.”

  I wasn’t sure how long I was out, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute or two.

  “Effective…cough….and I like how you lean into it. Makes it more real. Speaking of real, can we dismiss the illusion?” She was standing over me with the illusory bars running right through her body. She made a slight motion and the illusion dissipated into motes of light and smoke. Leaving us in what looked like a basement pantry.

  “Thanks.”

  “First question. Who do you work for, Aris?”

  “I don’t work for anyone….the Emir, maybe? Not sure how this slave economy operates. First question. What do you want to know in the end?” Why not swing for the fences?

  “In the End? Everything about who you are and where you are from. Your abilities. Who awakened you, where were you born? In the end, I will know it all.”

  “That’s a good goal. I’m not going to tell you half of that, and half of that you already know. Well, probably more or less, but you are going to have to work for it, princess.” She got visibly irritated at the ‘Princess’ comment. I must have missed it earlier, but there was a gap in her armor there. She was not a professional. She may have been doing this for a while, but she lacked formal training. That was a win for me. I never cared much for interrogation or techniques, but I was guinea pigged enough to resist amateur hour.

  “Fine…you will break them all, do you?. Second question, and I would appreciate honesty on this one. Are you Ascended?”

  “Honest answer? Yes. My second question: Do you have a truth detection skill?”

  “Yes. And thank you for that honesty. We will find out from the witch, but I like to hedge my bets.”

  She was lying about the truth skill. Her eye twitched too much when she said it.

  “Bets? I’m guessing my little display gave people a few things to wager on?”

  “Yes. I had a gold bet on you being Ascended.”

  “What was the consensus?”

  “Awakened with a strength focus.” The Minotaur spoke again.

  “Welcome to the conversation, my good Minotaur. And might I say your horns are quite impressive.”

  “Bolyan is an impressive figure, isn't he?”

  “Princess, I might be forward-thinking, but even I’m not that forward. The physics alone are mind-boggling.”

  She was immediately incensed, her smallish face turning a red so deep it eclipsed her hair. I could see the tension building in her body. I pulled my tongue back a little so I wouldn't bite it in the pain that was sure to come.

  For his part, the giant cow seemed none the wiser on my insinuation. Mercy did seem to catch his obliviousness and forced herself into a calmer state. There was an angle there, but I had to be wary of it. She wasn’t too keen on the sex jokes. Probably some trauma there as well. Again, this was all ammo for me and proof she didn’t have any formal training, at least not at the level of those who got to practice on me. She should have been able to distance herself from any of my barbs, or at least catch them and acknowledge them. You had to handle people who were aware of your manipulation techniques differently. In a lot of ways, they were easier to deal with; they would give you info with little effort because they knew you would get it anyway. However, some things were behind locked doors, and those were difficult, if not impossible, to crack. She didn’t appear to know this. It was like she learned from television, or a magazine, or someone els…..

  “Was it your mom or your dad?”

  “What?” She seemed confused.

  “Was it your mom or your dad who actually knew how to interrogate a subject? They did a kind of shitty job.”

  “Don’t you dare fucking talk about him!”

  She was still fuming after I came to. I must have hit a nerve—time to work it.

  “Dad then. Did he teach you anything else? You know, like something that might work?”

  Again with the pain. This time, when I woke up, she was gone.