Chapter 13.2: A Business Proposal

Several minutes later and at the other end of a long series of cramped hallways, Christoff couldn’t help but notice the irony of his situation. Manacled in some kind of stone braces, Veritas sat in an undersized chair, in an undersized room, across an undersized table from his undersized captor. Only several days prior had he been in a similar situation with the roles entirely reversed, down to the very size of the furniture. Now, his knees up at his chest, he sat prisoner at what could have passed for a child’s tea party.

The asura spoke first and quickly, “I won’t sit here in silence waiting for you to speak. What are you and your miscreant entourage doing in my facility? We have ways of putting trespassers to use, and I assure you they aren’t pleasurable.”

The words were consistent with those she’d spoken back on the cell block, but they were far from consistent with her doll-like proportions. Slanted blue eyes showed beneath her darkened turquoise bangs, framed by two leather-tied braids of hair draping down before slender ears. Those large eyes sparkled icily against her pale complexion. She wore not even the hint of a smile, and the sharp lines of her chin and mouth did nothing to soften her gaze.

“I come with a business proposition,” he said with a charming grin, “a partnership of—”

“Cut the siamoth stool, bookah,” she interrupted with a twitchy sneer. “You’re not impressing anyone. I have no need of business endeavors with a collective of human thugs. You did come with an intriguing correspondence, though.” She pulled a letter out of the angled breast of her asuran coat and unfolded it on the table between them. “It speaks of a highly destructive creature that killed some Vigil peons. But you are clearly not one of those do-gooders, so please, explain to me: how, precisely, did a nameless human come by such a communication, and why did you deliver it to my doorstep?” She paused for only a second. “Quickly. I don’t have all day.”

He glared at the little woman. Unlike others he’d met recently, she was getting under his skin without any evident interest in doing so.

He recomposed himself. “That, in fact, is the basis of the business proposal I came to make.” Her untrusting eye never left him, and she made no movement, so he went on. “I took possession of that from a sylvari Vigilman who happened to cross my path some days ago. It seemed a curious thing to me—”

“And why was that?” She interrupted again, crossing her arms and leaning back slightly in her chair.

Christoff’s jaw tightened irritably. “Because he had something else with him as well,” he said, reaching his bound hands toward the upper hem of his trousers.

Two of the guards, who’d receded into the background, suddenly lunged forward, gripping his arms and jabbing pistols into either side of his neck.

“I wouldn’t do that,” the seated asura said coolly. “They aren’t as patient as I am.”

“I—” The human began, finding the right words. “I have something more to show you, something I believe is of interest to you.”

“In your trousers?” she asked. There was no amusement in the question.

“Yes— no,” he corrected, suddenly understanding the implication. “I mean, yes, but— I couldn’t have just anyone discovering it. I have a secret pocket in the hem, to keep it safe. Allow me to—”

“Do not move!” The crumple-faced guard on his right shouted in his ear.

Christoff’s face reddened, and he began to rebut when the female quieted the room. “Enough!” She screeched.

Rising from her miniature chair, she made her way around the table, looking Christoff dead in the eye as she stepped up beside him. “Secret pocket? Where?”

“Inside the waist on the left,” he said with a sudden ease. “I’ll just—”

His eyes shot open as she crammed her little hand into his trousers and her fingers began to rummage around the inside of his belt line. She grabbed something and pulled back with a sharp snap that ripped out not just the hidden pocket and its contents, but a section of the seam that bound it to his britches.

His face now an even deeper flush, Veritas watched the little person dig her fingers into the severed pouch and pull out what was inside. “Hmph,” she mused, “it appears you were telling the tru—” Her words fell away as she stared at a dimly pulsing, purple stone laying in her open hand. She looked at it, then at him, and a knowing grin snuck across his face. It was a grin she did not reciprocate.

“Look familiar?” He asked. “That is what I came to speak to you about.”

Shoving a guard aside and snapping the pistol from his hand in one motion, the dollish asura jammed the tip of the weapon into Christoff’s temple. He felt the thrum of energy inside it, which he could only assume was some form of magic.

Through gritted teeth, she spat her words at him. “This is an experimental weapon appropriately derived from the very same stone you’ve come with. Officially we don’t yet know what effect it has on living things. Unofficially we’ve found it does irreparable damage to the mind over time. Sadly,” she sneered, “it’s non-lethal—a far cry from even the power of this small shard of yours. A quick burst may cause intense pain, but repeated exposure? That results is a slow mental degradation, until eventually the average subject seeks to ends its own life.” With a dark stare, she shifted to meet his gaze. “I do not like people knowing things I do not wish them to know, and you seem to possess a great deal of unwanted knowledge. Explain, now!”

Christoff suddenly realized he’d been holding his breath. He let it go and did as best as he could to compose himself again. He retook his usual business tone and replied with a forced grin. “After I had my serendipitous run-in with the sylvari, I had the doubly good fortune of meeting an associate of yours who was tracking them, in search of that.” He nodded gently to the stone shard. The gun dug a little more into his temple.

She clamped her mouth shut but the name still hissed from her lips. “Skixx.”

“I never got his name,” Christoff replied.

“What did you do with the muddleheaded fool?” she demanded.

“Nothing,” the man said. “We let him go on his way, but between the information I drew from him and what I found in the correspondence, I knew I was seeking an Inquest group in this region. And now, I assume, I’m in the right place.”

The mounting tension in her arm vibrated the gun at his head. “I hope it was worth the cost.”

“You still haven’t heard my proposal,” he replied. “I can get you your lost shards.”

The asura jabbed the pistol into his head again. “And how do you intend to do that?” she asked, her tone betraying the start of curiosity.

“As the Vigil letter states, the sylvari was only carrying the smallest fraction of the creature’s remains. The rest were taken to a nearby Lionguard fort—”

“Yes, we are aware,” she broke in, losing  patience, but not quite enough to kill him. “If we wanted to get that stockpile back, we would have already dispatched an assault team—”

“Except,” Christoff interjected, “you can’t, can you?” The human turned his head, aligning the pistol now with his forehead instead of his temple as he looked at her down the barrel. “As far as I see it, the Inquest would be fools to risk open aggression with the Lionguard, and unless I miss my mark, you are no fool.” He paused to let the flattery sink in before getting to his crux. His eyes shifted back and forth between hers.  “An unaffiliated group of human renegades, however, could make such a move without it ever coming back on your esteemed organization. My men and I make the strike at night, disappear into the wilds, and no one ever knows where the spoils went.” He shrugged lightly. “Or, you shoot me now, and everything stays as it is.”

Her eyes shifted to the floor for a moment as she considered the notion. Then they rose to meet his again, with a healthy dose of distrust. “What’s in it for you, bookah?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he said with a wicked smirk. “If we help you, there are two things you can do in return. First,” he paused to eye the gun to his head, “I’d ask for access to what you’ve learned in your research of the stones, since you seem to have unlocked some of their potential. Second, when you’re done with your research, I get the stones.”

She jabbed the pistol harder into his face. “You’re out of your mind, bookah. You have no right to the spoils of our work. And as you were too stupid to end Skixx when you had him, I have no need of your services. My agent is still in play.”

“I have more right than you know,” Christoff rasped through suddenly clenched teeth. He caught himself, breathing deeply to regain a more civil tone. “As for your Skixx—or whatever his name is—do you really expect him to succeed where three dozen armed humans failed? And if he does, what’s he bringing back? A handful of this stuff? I know the sort of creature it came from, and it is no small thing. Partnered, we could have a thousand times the raw material your sneak could bring back to you, if he brings it back to you at all. Between you and me,” he smirked again, “he didn’t seem the most capable of agents.”

The asura said nothing, only glaring at him. Christoff could see he was making headway, so he went on, leaning in toward her and her weapon. “You know I’m right. It weighed what, a ton, if not more? And coursing with magic through every inch, worth immeasurably more than your man’s measly handful could ever be. Or,” he shrugged, settling back a bit, “you can settle for less, resting your hopes on a sneakthief even my people could catch. Choice is yours.”

He could see the wheels in her head still spinning, though her expression was unflinching. These asura thought they were so intelligent, but really they were just like anyone else, motivated and manipulated by the same things.

“One-quarter,” she finally said, as though the arrangement were her merciful idea. “You get one quarter.”

He’d done it. Yes, the muzzle of the gun was still pressed painfully into his forehead, but he knew she was as good as his. “Three-quarters,” he bartered.

“Half.” She bit off the word. “And you remain here as insurance.”

That he hadn’t expected. “You can’t expect my people to conduct such an operation without—”

“I most certainly do,” she replied, cutting him off. “If your humans are as effective as you claim, then it should be simple, with or without you. Make no mistake, this is an arrangement of necessity, not trust. You will remain here where I can watch you, some of mine will go with your other humans, and you will be happy with the half I am willing to give you after my research.”

“Sixty percent,” he pressed again.

“Half. Or I can pull this trigger, throw you in a private cell, wait the days of isolated experimentation until you end yourself, return to my work, and never give you another thought again.”

He knew half the body’s stone would be more than enough to work with. He’d known that before he left Queensdale. The important part was practicing and honing his casting skills, not reconstructing the entire creation. Sitting there in that undersized chair, staring down that asura, he’d almost gotten everything he wanted, but he paused another moment for effect.

“Half,” he finally conceded. “And all the information you have on the substance and the creature it came from.”

She glowered before finally agreeing. “Fine,” she said. Her body loosened and her pistol hand fell to her side. “It’s not as if you’ll comprehend any of our work anyway. But, nothing comes back to this facility or the Inquest, or I promise you, I will suffer no fate that you don’t suffer tenfold.”

“Oh, most certainly, my dear. Mum’s the word.”

She tossed the pistol back at the empty-handed guard several feet away and returned slowly to her own seat. “I’m unfamiliar with your ridiculous idioms, bookah, but I understand your basal meaning.” She glared across the table at him as she settled back down into her rounded chair. “You will have your stones and your information, and I will have mine. We will go our separate ways, and none of this shall ever be discussed with anyone again, or I will ensure you are never discussed with anyone again. Am I understood?”

“You are,” Christoff affirmed with that haughty grin once again spreading across his lips, creasing the scar down the side of his face.

She steepled her fingers. “Excelsior, Mr. Veritas.”

His grin disappeared, and a frightful one spread across the little asura’s face instead. “You don’t really expect I’d take captives I couldn’t name, do you?” she asked.

He watched her silently for a moment, only to finally ask the question: “And you are?”

“My own business,” she retorted. “I’ll uphold my end of our arrangement, human, but you will get nothing more from me. Nothing.”

“Charming,” Christoff replied, letting his proud professionalism return. He raised his manacled hands toward her. “Anyway. If you would kindly remove my accoutrements, perhaps we could ratify this agreement.”