Frent… Frent… Where have I heard that name before? Asher wondered, racking his memory. He'd definitely heard someone mention the name in the past, but he couldn't quite remember. But based on Bordan's shocked expression and Clare's gasp, they had to be someone important.

"The Frent family estate," Bordan repeated, his gaze taking on a much harder look than usual as he stared down the exhausted assassin. "You're certain that's where the ink was made?"

"One hundred percent certain," William replied robotically, the Ring of Truth drawing the words out of him. The assassin looked like he was resigned to his fate. One way or another, he wasn't getting out of this alive.

"I guess that explains how Eight has managed to evade us all this time," Bordan said, rubbing his chin and looking troubled. "The question now is how do we go about gaining access to the estate belonging to the noblewoman in charge of the entire city?"

The Frent Estate! Asher realized, grinning as he finally remembered where he knew the name from. While ranting to Rosh about how poor a job whoever was in charge of the city was currently doing, Rosh had told him that Elnor Frent was the noblewoman who had been in charge of the city for the past decade. The only other thing he remembered Rosh mentioning was that the Frent family was known for their martial might, which no doubt would throw yet another wrench into the truthseekers' plans. Barging into an estate of limp-wristed nobles was one thing, but a family known for their combat capabilities? That was another story entirely.

"Bordan, are we sure about this?" Clare asked, looking almost scared for the first time. "Just because the ink used on Eight's notes was made in their estate, doesn't necessarily mean Eight is part of the family."

"No, but it means there's a connection. And a connection between the noble family overseeing the wellbeing of Whikoga and one of the Fingers from the Assassin's Guild isn't something we can just ignore," Bordan sighed. "I only pray that we merely stumble upon one of the younger nobles supplying Eight with materials because they have a misguided appreciation for what they are doing, or they don't even know about his assassinations in the first place. If it turns out that Eight is actually part of the family…"

Bordan let his sentence dangle unanswered, as if he himself wasn't sure what exactly that would mean. Clare seemed to read between the lines, however, as she gulped.

"For now, go ahead and place William in one of the cells downstairs," Bordan ordered her, pinching the bridge of his nose as he no doubt tried to come up with some sort of plan. "Make sure he has everything he needs, and then run an inventory check in the supply room. I want to know exactly what we have to work with before I start coming up with our next steps."

"On it," Clare said, not quipping back or making a single snarky comment for once in a complete change of attitude. Making sure she wasn't about to bang William on anything by accident, she quickly made her way downstairs, shutting the trapdoor separating the two levels from one another.

Asher supposed it made sense they had something like that installed, otherwise, sleeping would have been difficult with prisoners screaming up at them all throughout the night.

As soon as Clare shut the trapdoor, Bordan let out a long and heavy sigh as he leaned back against the table and screwed up his face in thought. Asher expected him to let out a string of curses or slam a fist down or something.

He did not expect Bordan to call out to him.

"I know you're still here," Bordan said, glancing up and staring directly at him. The truthseeker's eyes didn't quite meet his own, but it was clear Bordan had a pretty good idea of where he was standing. "Inventory should take Clare at least a couple of minutes. You and I need to have a talk."

Asher hesitated, wondering if he should really risk taunting the truthseekers any further. His plan had been a success in that he finally had a new lead to follow in his quest to track down Eight, so he really didn't need them any more. Not to mention the fact that activating the second tier of Complete Resilience twice in a row had drained him of a good bit of energy, and watching the entire interrogation had tired him out even further. However, there was something about the exhausted expression on Bordan's face that called to him. For the first time, the righteous truthseeker looked almost resigned about something, and Asher couldn't help but find himself growing curious.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he ended his skill and slipped back into the material realm. Rather than jump or look surprised at him suddenly appearing out of nowhere, Bordan merely nodded.

"That is some skill you have," he said, not moving a muscle from where he leaned against the table with his arms crossed. His greatsword was still leaning on the table beside him, but he made no move to grab it. The truthseeker was still in nothing but his undergarments, but the man didn't seem fazed by that in the slightest.

"It has its uses," Asher nodded, curious where Bordan was going with this. "...How did you even know I was here? And if you knew I was here the whole time, why interrogate the other assassin?"

"I'm a truthseeker. Few things escape my notice," Bordan said, shaking his head. "As to why I carried out the interrogation… I agreed to hear you out if you allowed Clare to bind you. I wanted to uphold my end of the deal."

"I seem to recall you attempting to remove my head from my body just a few minutes ago, regardless of any deal that was struck," Asher pointed out.

"You didn't have an evolved truth resistance when we first came to that agreement," Bordan stated bluntly. "The Noala Kingdom views having an evolved truth resistance as just as dangerous as owning a forbidden element. The moment you picked that up, I was all but required to kill you on the spot."

"So what's changed?" Asher asked, gesturing to Bordan's greatsword. "You don't seem to be trying to kill me on the spot any more. Why?"

"A lot," Bordan sighed, glancing at the trapdoor separating them from Clare. Seeing as Asher couldn't hear a single thing from down there, he could only assume it was completely soundproof. "For starters, it would appear as though I can't kill you, despite my best efforts. Going by the book, I should report this up the chain and attempt to monitor your location while someone who is in fact capable of killing you is sent over. But I have more important things to worry about at the moment than someone tangentially connected to the collapse of a few blocks in the second ring."

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"Well at the very least, I appreciate the fact that you've finally come to the realization that I'm not as big a problem as the entire Assassin's Guild," Asher snapped, doing his best not to let too much of his annoyance show. "Still, that doesn't explain why you wanted to talk."

"No, I suppose it doesn't," Bordan grunted, scratching his chin in thought. "...What do you know of the relationship between the different noble families and the High Prince?"

"Honestly? Next to nothing," Asher admitted. "I'm from a small village on the edge of the kingdom, everything I know I learned from a few days studying within Whikoga's library. I could tell you the kingdom's basic history and the name of the current High Prince, but not much else."

"In that case, allow me to make one thing clear. It's not exactly a secret, but most of the general public isn't aware of the fact that the High Prince has far less oversight of the different cities making up the Noala Kingdom than you'd think. Other than the capital and two nearest cities, the remaining eight function more like vassal states. The noble families in charge of the cities technically pay taxes and answer to the High Prince, but they make most of the rules and have quite a lot of liberties allotted to them."

"Okay… Why tell me that? Are you trying to convince me that all the problems in Whikoga are because of the Frent family rather than the fault of High Prince Donvath?"

"No, I'm trying to explain that while the Frent family technically is supposed to listen to the orders of the truthseekers, it's a bit more complicated than that," Bordan explained, looking like the admittance physically hurt him. "While I can make my orders, they have the right to refuse to obey them, and I in turn have the right to contest their refusal, and so forth. It's a long, lengthy process that can take days if not weeks to be resolved, and by that point, whatever connection they have with Eight will no doubt be swept under the rug or quietly purged. The noble families know better than anyone how to evade truthseeker skills."

"Why Bordan, if I didn't know any better, it almost sounds like you're asking me, an assassin you've tried to kill a number of times now, to slip into the Frent family estate and do your job for you," Asher said, unable to keep the grin off his face. "Or am I wrong?"

"You're partially correct," Bordan frowned, not rising to the bait of Asher's mocking tone. "The short of it is, seeing as we've already proven killing you is something I'm incapable of doing at the moment despite my best efforts, taking down one of the Fingers takes priority over any lingering anger I have toward you making a mockery of our rules. Rest assured, I will still be contacting my superiors and requesting they send someone over with the ability to kill you, but until then, I could use your assistance."

Asher could only stare at the truthseeker who had just bluntly stated all in one breath that he was doing his best to make sure Asher ended up dead, but figured he could put him to work in the meantime. It was almost impressive how honest Bordan was.

The good news was that Asher could work with that.

"Lucky for you, I've got my own beef with Eight," he admitted, clenching a fist at the memory of the magadrine powder that could have so easily killed Samantha or Brian by accident. "You didn't need to ask me to do anything, I'm already planning on killing the bastard the moment I get my hands on him."

"And that right there is precisely why I wanted to speak with you," Bordan said, his frown deepening. "You can't let bloodlust or vengeance drive you in something like this. Eight is crafty, no doubt an opponent more deadly than any you've faced up until now. You need a clear head, or you're going to get yourself killed, and then I will lose Eight altogether. Not to mention you need to ensure you kill the right person. As I said, there's still the chance that it is merely someone within the Frent estate supplying the Finger with ink for whatever reason. You can't kill the wrong person."

"If Eight is hiding within their estate, anyone who knows of that fact deserves to die, in my opinion," Asher shrugged. "I have a way of seeing who has a past riddled with bad deeds."

"You do?" Bordan asked, looking surprised for the first time since they'd begun talking. "...What elements do you even have?"

"Surely you know I'm not going to answer that," Asher grinned, parroting the truthseeker's own words back at him from their first encounter.

"I suppose you're right," Bordan chuckled. "Regardless of your strange skills, I'd feel better if you had a second method of determining you have the right person when you find Eight." Motioning for him to wait, Bordan walked back into what was presumably his room. A few seconds later, he returned, holding up a gold ring with a small emerald inlaid on the top. Nodding at him, he tossed the ring his way.

Snatching it out of the air, Asher peered at it.

[Ring of Truth (restricted)] - Allows the wearer the use of the Honest Ears skill (tier 1).

"This is a training aid we use to help those in the truthseeker program," Bordan explained, gesturing for him to put it on. "It should help you ensure you're going after the right person."

"What does 'restricted' mean?" Asher asked, narrowing his eyes at the ring and refusing to slide it on his finger.

"Of course you have some sort of examination skill," Bordan muttered, shaking his head. "It means that the artifact has some restrictions placed upon it. In this case, if I don't tend to the ring every twenty four hours, it will become useless and lose its enchantment. A common restriction placed upon artifacts that people don't want falling into the wrong hands."

"I suppose that makes sense," Asher muttered, tentatively sliding the ring over his finger. He figured if there were any negative effects his Identify would have picked up on them, and worst case scenario, he could just chop off his own finger if he had to.

The moment the ring slipped over his finger, two things happened.

Honest Ears (tier 1) - Hear the truth of any statement.

First, his ears began buzzing ever so slightly, as though there was a miniscule gnat hovering just beside his head on either side. It didn't interfere with his regular hearing and he quickly grew used to it, but it was still strange.

Second, was the understanding that his soul was full.

Asher stifled a groan at the sensation of too many different magical effects being taken on by his own body. He didn't know what exactly was going on, but it wasn't hard to make a guess.

There had to be some sort of limit to the number of artifacts a person could have on them at any one time, and it would appear as though his limit was three.

The Bracelet of Observation… The Ring of the Gourmet… and now the Ring of Truth, he thought, doing his best to keep a straight face. The sensation of his soul being filled to the brim with foreign skills wasn't exactly debilitating, but it was far from comfortable. It was like trying to go for a jog after having finished a particularly large meal.

"Remember, you only have a single day before that ring stops working," Bordan warned him. "...Admittedly, I'd prefer if you brought it back instead of letting it wear out, but I'll try not to get my hopes up."

"Don't worry, I'm not planning on wasting any time," Asher said, trying to ignore the buzzing in his ear that informed him that Bordan's words rang true. This is one hell of an annoying skill… Now I just feel bad for those kids in the truthseeker program that have to wear something like this all the time!

"By this time tomorrow, the Guild will be down to only nine Fingers."

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