Asitov didn't have much use for ensouled. Sure, Spellford and cities like it would've collapsed into the ocean years ago without them, but other than keeping enchantments running, they were a blight on existence.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Personally, he hated the city as much as the ensouled that kept it intact. Water dripping everywhere. And having to step into a waterfall and just… trust that it wouldn't drop you thousands of feet, leaving you little more than a read smear in one of the lower fish farms.

The entire city was an exercise in madness.

Unfortunately, it was also the only place within a hundred miles the war hadn't turned into a living nightmare. They’d barely escaped a wall of creeping vines tipped with blue thorns the size of a child’s arm.

Asitov had been hoping to at least offload his goods for some profit, but it turned out the local High Shaper was particularly enthusiastic about enforcing the anti-slavery laws of Terra Vista. More than he'd been comfortable with. Despite the nation itself having imploded, he'd been forced to declare them as free servants.

Thankfully, he’d been prepared for it, but having to pay them out still stung. But Asitov hadn’t survived in the trade for so long by refusing to acknowledge when he’d stumbled into a bad hand.

The second he'd declared them, well, off they went. He was only thankful he'd learned the ritual to scramble their memory. It was unlikely they'd find him again, unable to remember his features or his name.

“Of all the times to visit the elves,” he grumbled to himself rubbing his hands together while casing the crowd. At least there were plenty of marks. He was far from the only refugee crowding the city, and when they left, they’d be much more vulnerable. The plus side to plying his trade within Terra Vista’s borders was the surprise factor. Though the war had made people warier, they still weren’t prepared to end up in soul-cuffs.

After all, those were very illegal.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Once more, Asitov glared up at the spout next to the bench he'd chosen as his resting place. He swore the tapping was getting louder. Best he be ready to move before it started pouring. Being soaked wasn’t his idea of fun, nor would it help him avoid suspicion once he’d picked out his mark.

Except as his eyes came to rest on the drainage spout, he noted that it was dry. Not so much as a single bead forming at its base.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The tapping… hadn't been the sound of water falling. Just another of the city’s horrid problems, he’d thought.

Except as his attention returned to the crowd, the source emerged, striding directly towards him, one smooth step at a time.

The source was a man. Older than most, with defined smile lines and a large bushy mustache. Handsome and distinguished, Asitov thought. Not words he associated with many people. Not even words he used too often.

The gentleman was dressed in a sort of suit that Asitov wasn't familiar with. Mostly black, but with white gloves and undershirt, it lent the man a sort of presence that unsettled him. A small bowler hat rested atop his head, something Asitov would've called ridiculous on any other man.

Yet on this man… it leant him an air of… fanciness.

Altogether, everything about the man immediately set the hair on the back of Asitov's neck standing. He knew this sort of bloke, always looking down on an honest merchant. Type to take the goods without paying, then saying Asitov should be grateful that's all he took.

And he didn’t have any goods to give up.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

There was one more thing about the man Asitov noted. The very source of those taps.

A cane.

It was black. So black the darkness drew his gaze the second he noticed it, only for the effect to be broken by the silvery script. From the silver capped tip, up to the equally silver handle, the script ran, never breaking.

The man's damn stick was probably worth more than Asitov had made in a lifetime of trading flesh. And there was a lot of money to be made doing such a thing in a country where such was highly illegal, and the buyers desperate for his products.

"Asitov Somterlun," the man stated more than asked as he stopped in front of him. He'd come looking for Asitov specifically. Only one kind of person came looking for Asitov by name.

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His impression of the man before him shifted instantly. The appearance was a disguise. Pretending to be above it all, while secretly being what most would consider a monster.

The revelation eased the tension in his spine. He might not have product, but he had a long history of success. Of Course someone had heard he was in town, and sent the man along.

Still, Asitov hadn't survived in his trade so long by being stupid. Or greedy. Well, not too greedy.

"Not here," Asitov said, checking the reflections in the silvered handle of the man's cane best he could. He didn't see anyone tucked away in the corner. "Business is best done over dinner, don't ya think? Buy a man a meal?"

Preferably at the customer's expense, if they were desperate enough to come to him out in the open.

"I don't believe I shall," the man said, with a gentle tug on his mighty fine bowler hat.

Immediately Asitov's hackles rose once more. If the man wasn't willing to pay for something so cheap as a meal, that set a bad precedent. A dangerous precedent. Implied he wouldn’t pay for the product upon delivery. Probably one of those sorts who looked down at him, even as they desperately demanded his services. Asitov reminded himself that he was in public with dozens of witnesses and three open escape routes. "Well, I ain't talking business out here."

"You seem to have misunderstood the nature of our interaction, my poor fellow," the man said, inclining his eyebrow slightly.

"If you ain't here for business, shove off. It's a free city, and I've every right to enjoy the parks, much as any other taxpaying citizen," Asitov said, raising his voice to get the attention of the nearby guards. Already, he could see them moving towards them.

"A free city indeed," the man said, putting special emphasis on the word ‘free’. Then he turned his head towards the nearby guards and inclining his head slightly.

At the subtle motion, both halted in place. One put his hand on his sword, his knuckles turning white.

That was when Asitov decided it was time to leave.

He didn't rise off the bench, so much as he attempted to leap over it. It should've given him an advantage. He was a second tier Kinya adept, a former Vox Knight.

Sure, he was a little out of practice — having spent the last fifty years living life proper, after faking his death to get out of the order, instead of pushing his body to the limit like those freaks — but he was faster than any normal man.

The man in black and white, wasn't any normal man.

As smooth as if Asitov were standing still, the cane hooked his ankle and wrenched him backwards to land at the man's feet, his jaw slamming painfully on the cobbled stone of the park’s winding path.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The cane came down around his head, each tap ringing from a different point as Asitov’s senses came back to him. Rolling onto his back, Asitov glared upwards. He didn't recognize the man but only one type of person moved like that. "Vox Knight," Asitov spat, his hands clenched in fists.

"Ah, once more, it seems you've misunderstood," the man said. "But that is my own error, I suppose. My name is Sebastian Eswerl, and I am no Vox Knight."

"Who?" Asitov couldn't help but ask before shaking himself. It didn’t matter who the man was. All that mattered was getting out of this with his skin intact. "Look, I ain't got no beef with you. You tell me what you want, I'll get it for you."

"Ah, but I have what I want, Asitov.” The certainty in the man’s voice send a fresh wave of fear down his spine. “Are you not the man who once served in the Vox Knights yourself?”

“Been a while, but yeah, I was a Vox Knight once,” Asitov replied, sensing an opportunity. If the man wanted to kill him, he’d already be dead. “You want their secrets?”

“And you are here to avoid the war?” the man asked, tapping Asitov’s shoulder with his cane.

“Yeah. Me and everyone else with half a thought running through their head,” Asitov confirmed, trying to ignore the repeated taps against his limbs.

There was a pause as the man placed the cane directly next to Asitov’s hips, both of his hands folded over it as he stared down to meet Asitov’s gaze. A quick flick of the cane tore free the pouch he’d had his soul cuffs bundled inside. The man caught it with one hand, pouring out the contents to dangle freely, before tsking once.

That pouch was enchanted to stay on his hip unless Asitov died. And even then, it was supposed to disintegrate the contents if that failed.

“Exactly what I want,” the man said, his voice somehow retaining its casual air despite the incriminating evidence he held of Asitov’s trade.

“Take them,” Asitov hissed, feeling a piece of himself twist at the words. Soul cuffs were incredibly expensive, even in places where slavery was legal. Getting them inside Terra Vista would be next to impossible. He’d have to go north to the clans to get a new set.

The man ignored him, crushing the cuffs with a squeeze of his hand. Even as Asitov gaped at the waste, the man spoke, “A man who forswore his vows in exchange for a life of ease and comfort, proving he has no honor. A man of strength who cowers behind the walls of others to avoid conflict, proving he has no courage. A man who uses soul magic to scramble minds and enslave the free and innocent, proving he has no worth."

With each sentence, Asitov had felt a little more sweat drip down across his forehead as he stared up at the man. But at the last, despite knowing the attempt was sure to be futile, he attempted to escape Sebastian again. He threw his dignity to the side as he screamed for help.

A single tap brought him to his knees, his head spinning.

"I have use of such a man," Sebastian said as he stepped back in front of Asitov. Asitov could barely understand the words through the thick fuzz that had invaded his mind.

"For a man who as I have described… by the code, he does not deserve his freedom." Another tap, this time directly over Asitov's heart. He felt it resonate through him, stretching out to the very tips of his fingers before bouncing inward, slowly fading away.

“By the code, he does not deserve his strength.” Again, a tap sent a wave through him, his body feeling weak.

“By the code, he does not deserve his will.” A final tap against his forehead.

When it was done, Sebastian tapped his cane on the ground once more, freeing Asitov to move. "Now stand, you poor fool. There is much to do, and as ever, there is little time to do it."

"Yes ser," Asitov said, pushing to his feet with all his grace. Grace he used to hide, though he couldn't remember why. "Very good, ser."

Sebastion turned strode away, his cane tap, tap, tapping with each step.

And somewhere, in the back of his mind, Asitov continued to scream. Until the day he'd earned his death, he would never stop.

As if he could hear the torment, Sebastian gave Asitov a slight smile, and uttered a single word.

"Exemplary."