Randidly swept after Drane down into the bowels of the building, tensions high. From the view afforded by the balcony, Randidly had known that the building was spacious. However, after a series of wide staircases and their spiraling brethren, even he felt somewhat suspicious that they remained on the same property as they descended into a subterranean complex. Hallway after hallway led them down, only their echoing footsteps for company.

All the while, his fury percolated and compressed into something violent and needy. His eyes burned holes in this man’s back. The brutal gesture capered across his vision, over and over again. He saw in Drane’s strike and Lylla’s collapse what had happened to Helen. All over again, he had let her be slaughtered by Wick. He even stood right next to her while it happened-

Drane paused in front of a heavy iron doorway and wrapped his knuckles against the metal. “Coppun, get the door.”

The metal shrieked in protest as it was dragged along the wall to reveal an opening. A head poked out, stubby and slimy-skinned. It nodded to Drane and then, less politely to Randidly before withdrawing into the shadows. Drane glided forward into the even more dimly lit and grimy stone passageway. Randidly paused for a second then followed.

His emotions darkened for an entirely new reason. He recognized this man; it had been the individual who had shoved the servant Armel in the ballroom, in the middle of Drane’s speech.

It was arranged, then. Purposeful. A play, to give Drane a public excuse to reprimand him? Randidly clenched his fist so hard his knuckles cracked. Drane Swacc… How much of you is artifice?

They began passing holding cells blocked off with rusted metal bars. Randidly glanced inside and almost wished he hadn’t. The interiors were filled with small puddles of foul-smelling liquid and indeterminate, soggy piles of old robes. As they proceeded more deeply, the bars became thicker and the cells smaller. The longer they walked, the more Randidly considered the option of pouncing on this man’s back and snapping his thin, overly long neck.

He didn’t for two reasons. First, he worried that without access to his image, he couldn’t overcome Drane Swacc and would just shatter the memory around him before accomplishing anything. Another chance to learn about Elhume, the Second Cohort, and the hidden Path to the Pinnacle would be wasted. And second, due to his new position as Undersecretary, an assumed Nether King killing him would be… complicated.

The truth of history would be muddled by this very public assassination attempt. Randidly felt disgust rising in his chest as he looked again at Drane’s back. His resistance to the idea, despite the dangers, was slowly eroding. He heard his blood pounding in his ears. With how publicly anti-Nether he seems to be… Shit, they’d probably pin Lylla’s death on me too-

“Here we are,” Drane spun on his heel and gestured to one of the cells. He barely looked at Randidly, sparing him a glance and then raising his eyes to the ceiling. “As agreed with the other Nether Kings, they are yours for the correct price. You did bring the price, did you not?”

To hide his confusion, Randidly glanced into the cell. Within the shadowy, dank air of the cramped passageway, he hadn’t expected to find two figures, one an ancient Nether Herald so old his body was covered with wrinkles and his limbs appeared to have shrunken. He sat like a tiny doll up near the iron bars of the cell, where there was less standing water. Even still, Randidly could see the old man’s hands were puckered and the skin was flaking off. His robes had rotted away along the bottom.

Deeper within the cell, against the reinforced far wall, a muscular Nether Warrior crouched in meditation. His robe had ratted away almost to the waist. His skin was a dusky maroon, with black horns curling almost gently up from his forehead. The water there was so deep his knees were invisible, the bulging thighs seeming to spawn directly from darkness.

With the skin, the horns, and the muscles, religious individuals from Expira likely would have assumed this was the fallen Lucifer himself, held captive for his crimes.

He thinks I’m here to ransom captured Nether fighters? To pay for their freedom. Randidly gradually caught up to the current situation. Contextually, it made a certain amount of sense. Even if things were tense between Aether and Nether, there were always ways to handle situations like this. He looked back at Drane, saying nothing. He simply waited. Because, like everything else, Randidly knew that Drane Swacc was not an individual who left things like this to chance.

This, too, was a performance.

Drane released an aggrieved sigh and shook his head. He also didn’t speak immediately, taking off his glasses and using the glossy fabric of his sash to clean the lenses. Within the cell, the old man looked up at Randidly and smiled at him. His teeth were stained yellow, but he was the most human-looking individual Randidly had seen in the Second Cohort.

After a few more measured beats, Drane put the glasses back on his face. He still didn’t look again at Randidly. “I can make you a deal. There is a certain merchant making false and problematic claims about past business dealings with me. I’ve tried to remain civil, but he is increasingly aggressive- ah, you really don’t care, do you? Heh. Your people are so much more direct: those with power rule, those that don't…”

Drane gestured to the individuals within the cell. This finally got the attention of the Nether Warrior against the back wall. He slowly lifted his head and opened his eyes, his expression murderous. Yet his eyes were green, just like Randidly’s own. They were light and free, like sun-warmed grass.

“So I get rid of him,” Randidly grunted.

From the sleeves of his robe, he pulled out a prearranged chunk of Nether. “If you agree, insert your significance into this binding ritual. I would recommend you strike and remove him tonight. Otherwise, the security might prove too tight for your kind. There will soon be a public trial in Malloon.”

“Public trial?”

Drane shrugged. “It is messy Aether business. A certain renowned fist master is accused of inciting certain individuals into a cult, claiming the body of the universe is a sleeping god. It also coincidences with a Hobfootie tournament, so the city will be flooded.”

Randidly tried to keep his expression even. Is that… Elhume? Coming here for a trial? For attempting to revive Pine?

Randidly closed his eyes briefly. His senses scanned the Nether piece, finding no problematic portions. It was honestly pretty lazy work. Thinking about this as a memory just confuses me. Just… treat them as real. And if this were real, if I could clearly see how cruelly they were being treated in this place. If I can easily save them- He opened his eyes and examined the Nether Ritual. His lip curled slightly. If Drane is simply going to use the word remove, I can certainly do that. But how often does he deal with individuals of Nether, if he has this prepared…?

Without comment, Randidly extended a hand and inserted significance into the ritual. He felt the memory shake slightly, but it quickly recovered. The Nether Ritual sank into his arm, creating a constant urge to remove this specific merchant. With it, Randidly could get a vague sense of direction to the target.

Drane looked pleased as he unlocked the cell door. The door groaned, clearly unused to movement. “The merchant's name is Jotem Esstef. Talk to Coppun on the way out and he will show you the exit.”

Randidly watched Drane quickly hurry back down the passageway, leaving them in the gloom. His gaze swung forward to the occupants of the cell. The Nether Herald pushed himself slowly up to his feet and offered Randidly a respectful nod. Randidly glanced back at the Nether Beast. He also stood, his legs dripping dirty water and lifting him to a towering height. Below the knee, his legs ended in cloven hoofs.

The devil, indeed. Randidly mused.

The silence between them felt strange, as Randidly didn’t know how to act as their ‘savior’, but believed he might be able to obtain some useful information from them. Nether figures, even if captured for a while, would have other insights into the Second Cohort. Perhaps they might have even heard about the Aether forces worth being aware of.

They reached the sliding metal door, but Coppun wasn’t there to lead them out of the compound. Somehow, Randidly sensed this was also arranged by Drane, or at least anticipated. A thousand small slights he would use against helpless targets, assuming you were too weak or too distracted to notice and retaliate. Perhaps he judged the risk of the group causing trouble less than the potential inconvenience he could cause. Randidly just filed this information away in his growing list of reasons why he wanted to fuck over the Swacc Family while he remained within the memory.

Grim Intuition found the closest exit and Randidly guided the trio confidently out. Soon they ascended into a narrow tunnel that very clearly led out of the Swacc compound. Quarters were tight; the Nether Beast needed to hunch over to not scrape his head against the ceiling, but he did not complain. They quickened their pace, so they emerged into a relatively clean alley five minutes later, pushing aside a few refuse bins to emerge into the air.

After scanning the surroundings, Randidly turned to address the two Nether individuals. He caught the fist heading for his face almost casually. Blinking, he looked at the burning eyes of the Nether Warrior. The punch hadn’t even been fast enough for him to notice it as a threat. The aggressive devil struggled, but was clearly just a Nether Warrior; his physical capabilities were unimpressive. Randidly felt vaguely stunned. The form of the warrior’s punch had been even worse than its sluggish pace; it was much more a desperate prayer than a domineering haymaker.

When the first punch failed, the devil simply twisted back, raised the other fist, and attempted a second strike with the other arm. Because Randidly still had his other hand, his stance was absolute shit. Randidly couldn’t even muster up the tension to try and block it. The fist hit his cheekbone and he felt the soft bones of the devil crack from the impact.

Honestly, he was somewhat taken aback the Nether Warrior was strong enough to hurt himself with his rabbit-paw punches.

“You… for hurting me, I’ll tear-” The Nether Warrior hissed, but Randidly drove a knee into his diaphragm. He really didn’t have time for this and it felt quite cathartic after having to endure Drane’s disrespect for so long. The rest of the contents of the Nether Warrior’s lungs wheezed out between his lips as the muscle seized up, leaving him to collapse forward into the alley.

Randidly glanced at the Nether Herald, who shrugged like ‘what can I say? That’s what he’s like’.

“I’m Randidly Ghosthound,” Randidly said to the Nether Herald. “I hope that in exchange for my assistance, you will provide me with some information. Nothing vital, just the general situation, where you are from, etc.”

The Nether Herald tilted his head to the side. “I am Demetrius. But please, allow me the pleasure of knowing your risen name, and I will answer any and all questions you may have.”

Randidly’s eyes glittered. His lips twitched, even as felt the connection to the silly name given to him by the tusked Nether Herald. Somehow, he knew this was the proper answer to give. “They call me… Nether King Hungry Eye.”

After saying the words, feeling them ring true in the air, a small piece of thought settled into place inside Randidly’s mind. Nether Heralds, huh. Perhaps there was more to their name than I assumed. They quite literally announce Nether Kings. Since he gave me this name, it lingers on my significance. I wonder then what that means for Nether Gatekeepers…?

Demetrius nodded, apparently hearing the same ringing trueness in the name. “Well met, King Hungry Eye. We appreciate your assistance; considering the standing offer is just for common Nether slaves, we feared we would need to suffer for far longer before we could escape. Myself and my grandson Bogart here are at your disposal.”

Randidly nodded, then grimaced down at Sulfur, who purred in pleasure at the Nether Ritual tightening its pressure against him, urging him to strike. “The conversation can wait. I have some unfortunate merchant to remove.”