"Asher?" Draken blinked, clearly caught off guard by his sudden appearance. The gang leader seemed to gather himself remarkably quickly however, his surprised expression quickly morphing into one of annoyance that drew another terrified squeak from Kree. "You couldn't have simply waited for me to finish the business I was attending to? That was surprisingly rude of you."

"Ah… I'm sorry about that," Asher said, his face heating up just a tad as he realized Draken was probably right. While he wanted to find Rosh as soon as possible, perhaps making Draken think someone desperately wanted to kill him just to get his attention was a bit overkill. Though it wasn't as if he didn't have his own reason to be annoyed with the man. "That was probably a bit much. Though I think it was more than justified after you abandoned us and didn't come help the coalition take down Loratta like we planned."

Immediately, the annoyed look on Draken's face vanished, and the gang leader even went so far as to give him a slight tilt of his head in apology. "There were extenuating circumstances that I couldn't possibly have foreseen. I do appreciate you stepping up and finishing the job where I couldn't. Perhaps we let both of these incidents slide and call it even?"

"I suppose that's fair," Asher said after a moment, realizing Kree might very well pass out if he kept antagonizing Draken. He was pretty confident in his own safety from Draken's Death Aura, courtesy of Complete Resilience, but needlessly pushing such a dangerous man probably wasn't the wisest idea anyway.

"In that case..." Draken cleared his throat, turning toward the elite that had watched all this. "Thunder, would you mind letting whoever Fang ends up sending for our meeting know that I will be a few minutes late? I have some business I'd like to discuss with our friend here."

"Of course, sir," the elite said, all but bowing before turning and heading back to guard the front door. If it had been any other gang leader, Asher would have been surprised by how willing Draken's elites were to let the man meet with potentially dangerous characters all on his own.

But seeing as Draken had the Death element, it was pretty much everyone else that was in danger.

"Well, now that you're here you may as well follow me," Draken said, motioning for them to join him in the room he'd so quickly run out of.

It seemed Draken had been hard at work within his own personal study, and Asher found himself looking around in awe at how neatly kept his workspace was. When he'd still been a mortician's apprentice, his own mentor had an office that he stored physical files in, and that room had looked like a hurricane had blitzed through the place more often than not.

Draken's study however looked as though it was a nobleman's room on display from the 1800s.

Shelves of old books lined the walls, smelling of a mixture of aged parchment and treated leather. There was a magnificent desk off to the side with a seat that reminded Asher of a throne more than a chair, and what looked like a small collection of shining fountain pens proudly on display. A liquor cabinet that reminded him uncomfortably of the one he'd set on fire back in Trellis' caravan was filled with various spirits, and the entire room was tied together with a rug of some creature that must have been larger than anything Asher had ever seen before.

"Take a seat," Draken said, directing them toward a few loveseats he had set up beside a crackling fireplace. Kree all but sprinted over to the offered chair, quickly sitting down and placing his hands in his lap as he sat ramrod straight, his gaze straight ahead as he waited for all of this to be over. Rolling his eyes, Asher joined his newest hire, watching Draken as the man poured three small glasses of some liquor that probably cost more shards than Kree had ever seen in his entire life.

"Rosh told me about your letter, but I still found it hard to believe that you made it out of that compound with your life," Draken finally said, taking a seat across from them and handing them both the glasses filled with what smelled like some sort of whiskey. "Tell me, how did you possibly manage to escape being buried alive?"

"Let's just say I'm somewhat hard to kill," Asher grinned, pushing the offered whiskey off to the side as he matched Draken's stare. Based on the horrific coughing coming from beside him, Kree had made the mistake of trying the rich liquor. "Rosh is alive? Where is he?"

"Rosh is very much alive. In fact, after the entire ordeal with Loratta was completed, I offered the man a job," Draken said, sipping his glass and looking thoughtful. "Did you truly come all this way just to check on your friend?"

"Rosh was one of my main concerns, but unfortunately, he's not the biggest one," Asher admitted, hesitating as he wondered just how much he should reveal to Draken. The man had been nothing but helpful so far, but at the end of the day, he was one of the most dangerous gang leaders in all of Whikoga.

In fact, now that Loratta was dead, he led the largest gang in the entire city.

Narrowing his eyes, Asher focused on his Judgement skill and gave Draken's aura a closer look. As expected, his aura was absolutely filled with death. What was surprising however, was the clinical neatness of it all. The sense Asher got from his aura was that while the man had been responsible for a significant amount of death, he hadn't actually wanted any part of it. There was an underlying current of responsibility, as though Draken hadn't desired in the slightest this mantle of power he'd been given, but after having it thrust upon him, had come to a decision early on to make the best of things and rid the city of its trash.

From the rumors he'd heard and his own personal experience witnessing Draken kill an elite that had been responsible for some truly heinous acts, Asher honestly felt like the fallen nobleman was something of a kindred spirit. Neither of them were perfect, or anywhere near what he would call a 'good person,' but they each had a code and lived by it.

"Someone tried to have me assassinated," Asher finally admitted, earning a surprised look from Draken. He briefly wondered if he should send Kree out of the room for this next bit, before deciding to just roll with it. He wasn't going to go into any specific details, and Kree might actually come in useful with his strange Shadow element. "Whoever it was sent me a parcel addressed to 'The Reaper.' When I opened it, a handful of blue powder exploded everywhere."

"Magadrine powder," Draken said, his voice hushed as if even the word would draw the wrong attention to them. "And you survived? I mean, clearly, you did. But how?"

Stolen story; please report.

"Like I said, I'm somewhat hard to kill," Asher repeated, watching Draken's face carefully. Seeing as he knew its name, the gang leader clearly knew of the blue powder. What was surprising was that for the first time since he'd met him, Asher thought he saw what looked like a flicker of unease on his face.

"You've made a dangerous enemy, Asher," Draken said solemnly, taking his glass and downing the last of the liquor in a single gulp. "Seeing as you are asking me about all this, I take it you're not aware what the blue powder signifies?"

"No, I've never seen it before," he admitted. "Do you know who tried to kill me?"

"Oh yes," Draken nodded, looking pensive. "I suppose you are rather new in town from what I've heard, so it's not that surprising you wouldn't be aware. But I'd think anyone else in the entire city, from the first ring to the fourth, would be able to tell you who the powder came from. Based on his expression, your friend here certainly knows."

Kree was startled from his own haunted expression as their focus turned toward him, and the thief took a shuddering breath as he nodded. "He goes by Drip. He's the head of the Assassin's Guild for Whikoga, and is arguably the deadliest alchemist throughout the entire kingdom. It's said a single drop of one of his poisons is potent enough to kill an entire town, which is how he earned his name."

"He is also known as Eight, and he is the only one capable of making magadrine powder," Draken nodded. "It is odorless, traceless, and fatal in every sense of the word. I've personally witnessed someone with an evolved poison resistance die within seconds after exposure. I have no idea what it's made of, but I have never heard of a single soul actually surviving an assassination attempt from Eight that involved magadrine powder. It is supposed to be his trump card, something he utilizes when he wants to send a message to others, or wishes to leave no room for failure."

"Hold on, the kingdom has an entire guild of assassins?" Asher asked, glancing back and forth between his two somber companions. "How has something like that not been stomped out by whoever's in charge of this place? I could see how a bunch of gangs might scrape by unnoticed, but a guild of assassins?"

"You have to understand, when it comes to the upper nobility and anyone with enough influence to actually do something about the Guild, the Guild is more of a political tool than a threat," Draken sighed, clearly displeased by this fact. "There are a small handful of healers within the kingdom capable of bringing back the deceased. Because of this, having a member of their family fall victim to the Guild is more of an embarrassment than a tragedy, as all it takes is shards to bring them back. That's not to say nothing is being done about them, however."

Draken paused for a moment, seeming to try and decide just how deeply he wanted to delve into the geo-political landscape of the kingdom. As he thought, he turned his glass tumbler this way and that under the light, as if looking for any imperfections.

While Draken played with the glass, lost in thought, Asher blinked at the realization that the gang leader was missing the pinky finger on his left hand. But before he could think too much about what might have caused such an injury, Draken continued.

"The truthseekers answer directly to the crown, and thankfully, the High Prince has little interest in playing the same petty games as the rest of the nobles. His truthseekers have gone after and rooted up the Guild more times than you could possibly imagine, yet they always come back. Their more common members die like leaves in a fire, burning fast, and often not all that bright. Yet the Head and their ten Fingers somehow stand the test of time.

"Including the capital of the Noala Kingdom, there are eleven cities in all," Draken explained, finally placing his glass down and clasping his hands together. "That's a lot of territory for the small handful of truthseekers to handle. The Head of the Assassin's Guild rules over the Guild in the capital, and each of their Fingers rule over one of the Guilds in each of the different cities. Whikoga is the eighth city in the kingdom, which is why Drip, being the Finger in charge of it, is known as Eight."

"So you're saying somehow these eleven people manage to avoid all the truthseekers and everything else the High Prince throws at them?" With all the crazy powers Asher had seen people use up until now, he found that hard to believe.

"Not always. Every few years the truthseekers manage to take down a Finger or two. But despite the Head operating out of their own capital, they've never managed to take down the ringleader," Draken said, a slight frown on his face. "Because Drip kills exclusively through his concoctions, he is even harder to track down than most, and he has led Whikoga's Guild for almost a decade now. In all that time, nobody has ever actually seen his face, and in fact, we don't even know if he is a man or a woman. The only reason people assume he's a man is he sometimes leaves personalized notes mocking those he kills, and his handwriting looks more rough and masculine."

Asher leaned back in the admittedly comfortable loveseat, taking all this in. The fact that the nobility used the goddamn Assassin's Guild as a toy was absolutely ridiculous to him. On top of which, he wasn't quite sure if his wannabe-killer turning out to be an alchemist rather than some sort of skilled fighter was a good thing or a bad thing. On the one hand, that meant putting them down once he finally found them was probably going to be easier. But on the other hand, Drip had already proven that his concoctions were strong enough to affect even Asher through his Complete Resilience skill. If he wasn't careful, Drip might surprise him, and there was no telling whether or not he'd wake up if he died a second time.

At the very least, he finally knew who it was he had to kill.

"There's one more thing," Asher said, throwing a sideways glance at Kree. "After I escaped Loratta's collapsing compound, I retreated somewhere rather far from the city. I'm pretty confident I wasn't tracked or followed, yet somehow, Eight knew exactly where to send a parcel to. Any ideas how?"

"It's been rumored that one of the Fingers is capable of long-range scrying," Draken said, his frown deepening. "Based on your experience, I think we can safely say the rumors are true."

"It's worse than that," Asher realized, his blood going cold as he pulled the necklace he'd taken off Loratta's corpse out from under his shirt. He'd used Permanence on the effect he'd gained from the artifact to ensure the skill kept leveling, but he'd decided to keep the necklace just in case. "I took this from Loratta when I killed her. It grants the user the Hidden Presence skill, a tier two skill that is supposed to hide aspects of the wearer from other skills. If they were still able to find me…"

"Then the scrying skill is within the third tier, and a powerful one at that," Draken finished, earning a shocked gasp from Kree. "Honestly, I would have assumed as much from the Guild. A million shards sounds like a lot to most people, but the Fingers rule over entire cities from the shadows. In fact, I'd bet by now the Head has evolved just about all of their own skills to the third tier."

"How am I supposed to track down and kill a man who knows my location?" Asher demanded, suddenly realizing this was what it must feel like to be on the other end of his Eternal Mark skill.

"The good news is, I'm almost certain Eight is not the Finger capable of scrying," Draken assured him. "He must have reached out to one of the others for help, or more likely, the Head coordinated it. The Guild rarely works together, and the Fingers are rumored to have quite a competitive relationship with one another, so I doubt he's still monitoring your location. The bad news is that if that is indeed the case, it would seem the waves you're making in Whikoga by taking down Loratta and her elites have caught the attention of the Head."

"I can deal with their attention later," Asher said, ignoring the strange mix of fear and excitement he felt bubbling up at the thought of going one-on-one with the Head of this kingdom's Assassin's Guild.

"For now, tell me everything else you know about the Guild's whereabouts in Whikoga. And where I can find Rosh."

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