After Carrie leaves the Lord's chamber, the Assassin and her entourage are led down well-adorned corridors to the treasurer's room. Entering alone, an old man looks up from the documents he's working on.

"H-Hello. How can I help you?" Irvine Goode has been the treasurer of Ishda for the last 60 years and has always thought of himself as resilient. Today, however, he finds that his voice is quivering and is barely audible in the spacious room he uses for work. The aura coming from the woman across the room has clearly shaken him. That and the fact the man also looks to be nearing a three-digit age. What hair he has left is combed over his scalp and a small pair of golden-rimmed glasses sit on the end of his nose. Jewelry decorates his hands and neck and the old man looks better off than most people Carrie has seen since she first started venturing out of the dungeon.

Her attire, much like Noir's, hasn't changed much since her ascendance to Assassinhood. Now dressed in blue, Carrie wears the same dress she was summoned in, only a different colour than before, with the dungeon insignia stitched on the bottom.

Before answering Goode's question, Carrie removes her diamond studded mask from storage and places the perfectly-sculpted object onto her face. From beneath it, an ice-cold gaze pierces the old man's resolve further and she sits herself on his desk in a show of authority.

"I'm here to ask you some questions," she smiles as Goode begins to sweat profusely whilst looking slightly agitated. "Whether or not I find your answers acceptable will decide if you're still breathing at the end of our conversation. Do you understand?" Goode nods slowly, unable to speak. With that, Carrie takes his notion as acceptance and continues.

"Good. Now, it's obvious that you've got your fingers in the pie. Quite deep as well I would suspect by the look of you. The question is, who else's fingers can you feel in there with you? Do you understand where I'm going with this?"

The treasurer is visibly shaking, but nods once more to show his agreement. "Good. That's good, Goode. Really goode," she shakes her head quickly in embarrasment while wondering if her Master would have liked that one. Carrie's not one for jokes, but every now and then she has her moments. Whether she likes them or not. It's the Abi effect. "What I'm going to need from you is a list of co-conspirators and the locations of where I can find them." The treasurer has kept his mouth shut and denied plausibility throughout countless interviews conducted by the guards. However, the cold intent that Goode can feel emanating from the women sitting on his desk is enough for him to know that he can't stay quiet any longer.

Ever the trier though, Goode attempts to beguile Carrie using complex sentences while protesting his innocence in between. "Silly, old man," she snarls, grabbing his wrist, "I don't have the time to waste listening to prattling excuses."

Carrie takes hold of a finger on Goode's left hand and then bends it in a direction that fingers are not meant to be bent. The aged-treasurer screams in pain as bone rips through skin and the Assassin releases his wrist. Tears stream down his face and Goode cries in agony, cradling his hand that seconds ago was fine.

"If you speak again without permission, I will chop off your tongue. What I want is written information. If I find out you have withheld Anything then I will be back to see you for a less-than friendly visit. Nod if you understand." Sniffling away, the wounded treasurer nods in compliance. His mouth is firmly closed, but he's unable to hide his pain. His skin has turned as white as his hair and he sways where he sits.

"Good. Now, take out some parchment and begin writing. If you're going to need a second piece, take it out now." Goode does as he's told and removes a single piece of paper from the top drawer of his desk. He then picks up the quill, dabs it in ink and begins writing.

'I didn't really want to hurt the old man, but it was the fastest way to make him do what I needed him too. I doubt the Lord's men would do what I did to the treasurer without proof and he might have potentially thought I'd be the same as they were. Unfortunately for him, my master wants this to go well so I'll do whatever I have to do to accomplish that.'

Goode scribbles away in silence as Carrie watches over him. His penmanship is fantastic and the Assassin can read his words perfectly. Once he's done, the treasurer hands the parchment with the names of all his co-conspirators over to Carrie. "Twenty-seven? You remember what I said, right, Goode?"

"Y-Yes... M-Mistress," he stutters. The treasurer's eyes are firmly on his desk. He dare not look at the harbinger of death reviewing his list, unless he wants to add more pain to his day.

"I can't help but notice that your name is also included. Would you care to explain that?" He looks up into the eyes behind the mask before planting his gaze firmly back on his desk.

"I-I... T-The others..." Carrie frowns in disappointment at the opening words of another excuse. Quickly realising that he's treading the same path as before Goode stops talking, takes a deep breath and starts again. "No! I took it. I'm also to blame. That's why I put my own name on there. There's no excuse for it and if the Lord is going to punish me for it then so be it." His sudden bout of honesty slightly surprises the Assassin. She was expecting him to reel through a long list of reasons why he wasn't to blame, none of it was his fault and his punishment was unjust. Luckily, it turns out that she got the easiest of the three missions. 'Go me.'

"Well said. When someone makes a mistake they should be held accountable for their actions. That said, I might ask the Lord if I can keep you for myself." Goode face drops as Carrie's smile only grows larger. Little does he know that the Assasin doesn't want to inflict more pain on him, but instead has bigger plans for the treasurer.

"W-What use would you have for an old man like myself? Surely there are more capable people that serve you?" The images running through the treasurer's mind are terrifying to him.

"Nobody serves me. Where I am from, we are all equal. You would be the first actually. As for my reasons... They're mainly to do with paperwork and finances to be honest. Much like you do here."

Goode doesn't know what to say. A moment ago he was expecting an execution or the prospect of spending the rest of whatever life he has left in jail. The prospect of avoiding that fate is a god send in its own right. He had only taken money from the treasury because his son's life had been in danger. With all the other light-fingered ministers around, the treasurer didn't think he would be caught out.

"That all depends on what these people say, or do. If what you have written is accurate then I will choose to trust you. Even if it's out of fear right now, soon you will appreciate what I'm willing to offer to you.".

'I already appreciate it! I don't wanna spend the remainder of my life behind bars,' he screams on the inside. At the same time the treasurer's eyes shoot open and he begins to panic again.

He raises his uninjured hand and waits for Carrie to take notice of him. "Yes? You can speak."

"I-I... I'm so sorry, mistress. I-I have just remembered another. I am terribly sorry," Goode plants his head on the desk. His body still quivering.

"How fortunate," she places the parchment down so he can add the extra name. "Before I forget, are any of the people on this list involved in the uprising?"

"Uprising?"

"The plot to overthrow the Lord, fool," slightly losing her patience she raises her voice and Goode recoils.

"N-not to my knowledge, Mistress. But I haven't heard anything about a plot like that."

"Fine. I will be back. There are guards outside your room so I suggest resting." Carrie informs the old man as she leaves. He does as she said and moves to the couch, nursing his hand as he lies down.

After sending a cleric to Goode and finding herself a guide, Carrie moves to the noble district of Ishda. The area the guard assured her was full of well-crafted buildings and beautiful works of art, is a far cry from what she was led to believe.

There are a few homes that look spectacular. Even better than what Abi provides back home. There aren't many of them though and in between the sparse plots of land, rubble-strewn debris litters the area.

As Carrie tries to put an explanation to the question she's wondering, the sound of another collapsing building can be heard in the distance. "I guess that would be Noir then." She rolls her eyes.

'I swear Dropper told him not to cause too much damage. It's as though he's incapable of following anyone else's orders except Master's.'

"So this is... was, Count Villier's home?" Carrie asks the guard who led her here. "Er... yes, Mam. Or at least it was... Urp." The man's dinner is expelled after he notices a lifeless arm hanging from the rubble.

"Well, that's one down, twenty-six to go. Next is... Madame Auberline. Lead the way, good Knight." Carrie tries to cheer him up with her own unused-enthusiasm. It doesn't go down well with the Knight who looks at her maniacal smile in fear.

"Mmm," is the only sound he can make before pointing at the next collapsed building on the row. "This is probably going to go a lot faster than I expected it to."

All in all, Carrie only ended up questioning two light-fingered ministers. The men themselves were the only two that had no part in the plot to overthrow Lord Aldor. They did, however, agree to the authenticity of Goode's list. The destruction of their neighbours striking fear in their heart that they might befall the same fate.

Carrie makes her way back to the Lord's Manor with the corrupt officials in tow. They sheepishly enter behind her, knowing full well that punishment will be coming their way. They have abused the rank and power that Lord Aldor bestowed them with.

The Assassin is led to a much smaller room than Noir was taken. The original audience room is covered in blood and is still in the process of being cleared out. The source of why she's in a less than welcoming room is sitting at a table, stuffing his mouth.

"Noir. Why is the majority of the noble district in ruins?" At her words, the red-haired Assassin starts to choke on his food. Coughing dramatically before eventually managing to swallow, he sheepishly turns toward the sound of his partner's voice.

"I don't know what you mean? It was like that when I got there." His words fool no one. Carrie had heard him as she followed the trail of destruction looking for her own corrupt ministers.

"Noir!"

"Fine. They were all involved with the plan to overthrow the Lord. He won't miss them. Or their houses." He laughs to himself, grabbing another large leg of meat from the abundantly-stocked table.

"And you didn't cause any other damage?"

"No! What do you take me for?" Carrie rolls her eyes at his words. The boisterous man before her may jest, but when push comes to shove he always does what's needed.

'I wonder how Dropper is doing?' She thinks, as Noir returns his attention to the pile of food. Carrie sits down next to him and starts to eat, feeling rather hungry herself after walking around the large city.