Table of Contents – (spoilers)
The access to the church’s catacombs and dungeon was through a wide door just opposite Father Morrenthall’s office in the transverse. This led to a wide, stone spiral staircase. With Father Morrenthall leading the way with a small, bright, magical lantern, Knuckle and Choke dragged Waters kicking and screaming down to the dungeon. Peep took up the rear.
The first level under the church was catacombs and tombs for the mortal remains of illustrious parishioners. The spiral staircase ended here, so they had to move through the wide, vaulted chamber with its sarcophagi and bone alcoves. There were several passages leading off from the chamber into the pitch, silent black. However, these were not their way.
At the head of the chamber, a normal stairwell went down to the lower levels. The dungeon was on the next level down. The cells were accessed through the well-equipped torture chamber. Father Morrenthall clapped his hands to illuminate more magical lamps set in sconces around the chamber. There was a large, mechanical rack for stretching, a sturdy bench with manacles for dismembering, and three hefty chairs with iron restrains for ankles, wrists, and neck. There was a deep brazier for heating irons, tongs, and pincers, as well as tool racks housing a wide assortment of what looked to be mostly carpentry tools and surgical instruments.
Waters had given up his raging and was now limp in Knuckle and Choke’s arms, begging for forgiveness.
Father Morrenthall ignored him. He led them through his torture chamber to the cells. He opened the door of one of the first ones and gestured for Knuckle and Choke to drag Waters into it. Waters put up a bit of a struggle, but gave up almost immediately.
The cell was small, but clean. There was single bed with a wool blanket and pillow, a small writing table with a stool, and a chamber pot. On the table was a Holy Book. The room had a musty smell to it. The dungeon was quite cool, but the cell was actually nicer than the one the lads had stayed in upstairs. There was a bright, magical lightglobe set into the ceiling that Father Morrenthall illuminated with a pointed finger.
“You may release the prisoner,” Father Morrenthall said calmly.
Choke and Knuckle did just that, and squared up to stand between Waters and Father Morrenthall, who stood in the door with Peep peeking impishly around his cassock from behind.
“Please don’t do this to me! I’m sorry! I’m sorry, okay?” Waters wept.
“That is immaterial, Mr Waters. You will stay here for the time being. I suggest you occupy yourself reading the Holy Book and meditating upon your sinful life. I do hope that when next we speak, you will have corrected your attitude. You have displeased me with this embarrassing performance of yours. And what did I tell you about displeasing me, Mr Waters?”
“I know! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Father!”
“Duly noted. I shall leave the light on for now. I will bring you your evening meal later. If, at that time, I find that you have gotten up to any mischief with your room here, then I shall be putting you in one of the dark, wet cells further below. Those cells are, by the way, quite close to the door I have sealed up against the creatures of the underdark. Endless tunnels and chambers and horrors down there, let me tell you. When I first was assigned here, I spent months with my men patrolling and clearing the levels, but, I must admit, I have not done so in years. Some creatures may be lurking close these days. I don’t think you want to be in the dark cells where some of them might be able to talk to you through the door. Remember that as bad as things might seem to be for you now, they can always get so much worse. As some prisoner or another once said: ‘We thought we had reached the bottom, but then we heard someone scratching from down below.’ Do you understand, Mr Waters?”
“Yes, Father. I’ll be good. I promise, Father.”
“Might I suggest, Mr Waters, a suitable starting point for your self-contemplation? Perhaps it would be fruitful to consider how your many victims felt in their fine room in your tower, waiting for you to return to them. Wondering if you might have Billy with you. Wondering what your next whim might be. We will speak more on this later.”
Father Morrenthall gave Knuckle and Choke a tap and the three of them left the cell. Father Morrenthall shut and bolted the sturdy door and led them back upstairs, clapping his hands to extinguish the torture chamber lights as they passed.
Back upstairs, Father Morrenthall peeked out the transverse door into the church, where the pews were a quarter full with Peep’s followers and other religious-minded townsfolk. Father Morrenthall nodded, clearly pleased with this, and took the squad back into his office.
“You may all be seated,” he said, specifically gesturing for Knuckle to join them.
They all made a point of not sitting in what had been Waters’ chair.
Father Morrenthall sat down and took a while to read over his document of evidence against Waters. Then he sat thoughtfully staring off into space for a while more. Peep, Choke, and Knuckle waited silently. Finally, Father Morrenthall nodded resolutely to himself, having settled his mind on his course of action.
“You all did well. Thank you,” he said. “It is about lunchtime, and I am famished. This kind of thing really takes it out of me. When we are done here, you may take lunch in the kitchen, as usual.”
“Thank you, Father,” the three said.
“I shall eat here and prepare the necessary documents for my evidence against Sergeant-Major Orel and Lieutenant Hamon. I am afraid that until my help from Strana arrives, I shall have to further impose upon you all.”
“Of course, Father. It is no imposition,” Choke said.
“Thank you, Lieutenant Pekot. Now, before we proceed, I must caution all three of you. The evidence you have been hearing, as well as my thoughts about what to do with it, must be kept absolutely secret. As well, as to the subjects of this investigation: when you leave my service to rejoin the army, you must not act upon any of what you have learned here. Be cautious and wary based upon it, of course. Forewarned is forearmed. But it is not for you to act preemptively.
“For example: today we have learned that the Baron’s quartermaster, Sergeant-Major Orel, is an Outfit agent and as dirty as they come. This is, of course, vital information for you. But you must be aware that in all likelihood, no immediate action will be taken against him. For one thing, in his case, it is not for me to punish him. I shall interview him, as sharply as I see fit, and present my evidence to the Baron. It is the Baron, his commanding office, who shall decide what to do with him. And, let me tell you, with circumstances such as they are, we can ill afford to lose the man. As corrupt as he is, and whatever else he might be, he is clearly intelligent, highly competent, and extremely well organized. With what we are facing, we must turn the rogue to our purposes.”
“And how do ye do that, Father?” Peep asked.
“That is a thorny question, Otilla. And while you will have a part to play in its resolution, you likely shall be in the fort with Sergeant Orel for a time. And you must not interfere with him. I cannot stress this enough, Otilla: whatever happens, you leave him be. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Good. Now, as to your orders for the day. Lieutenant Pekot: after lunch, I would like you to seek out Lieutenant Cooper. Tell him that I request for him to come to me this afternoon for a formal interview, if not a confession.”
“Yes, Father,” Choke said.
“Then, having done that, go to the tower and see if that Corporal groom has returned. If he has, send him here as well. Tell him that whatever the status of the horse retrieval, I wish to clear up his reward promptly, to avoid bothering Mrs Dunn later. Of course, between you and me, what I really want is a quick word with him about the disposition of Lieutenant Hamon’s people.”
“Yes, Father,” Choke said.
“Thank you. Then, you may relocate Sergeant Nikolas and your three recruits here to the church. Once you have, check in with me; I no doubt will have more for you to do.”
“Yes, Father. Thank you, Father,” Choke said.
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Now, Sergeant Theodas: I am going to need you on another matter. After lunch, please take Mr Waters’ horse from out front and put it away properly in the stables. He shall not be needing it any time soon. Then, I would like you to go back to the Sheriff’s office. Bring the Sheriff’s Deputies back here to the church for an interview. I need to find out if either of them is worth a damn.”
“Yes, Father,” Knuckle said proudly. “But, what if they resist?”
“I doubt they shall, but if they do, explain to them that you have my warrant to arrest them, if necessary. If it then seems that you will be able to manage that by yourself without hurting them too badly, bring them in. Otherwise, go and find Lieutenant Cooper’s sergeant; the fellow that he brought with him to town. Tell him that I order him to help you affect the arrests. Yes?”
“Yes, Father! Thank you, Father!”
“Good. Now, if neither of the deputies are at the office, seek out Cooper’s sergeant and have him and his men help you track them down. I want them brought in as soon as possible.”
“Yes, Father! But what if there’s just one of them at the office, like this morning?” Knuckle asked.
“Then bring him in and stay with him here until I am ready to speak to him. I shall want you in that interview with me. Then, once I have interviewed him, I may send you out to track down the other,” Father Morrenthall explained patiently.
“Yes, Father!”
“Thank you, Sergeant,” Father Morrenthall said, before pausing to stare off into space for a moment, collecting his thoughts.
“Ah… sorry, Father. Just a question or two, if that’s okay,” Peep said, raising her hand like a schoolgirl.
“Of course, Otilla.”
“I’m just wondering: if you’re all set to let Waters go back to being the sheriff after ye get everything ye need out of him, then why d’ye need to find out if his deputies are worth a damn?”
“Ah,” Father Morrenthall gave Peep a shrewd look. “What makes you think I am set to let Waters redeem himself?”
“Because, Father, the Baron told ye that he doesn’t want to have to replace him, but that yar allowed to scare him as much as ye want to get him into shape. So, I’m just assuming that’s what ye’ve been up to with him here. Isn’t that right, Father?”
“I see. And I suppose you have some thoughts about what you would prefer to happen.”
“Not any that I’d pester ye with, Father. I’ll be okay with whatever ye decide. I’m just curious is all. And pardon me for it if that’s out of line in any way, Father,” Peep said with just a hint of her cheeky grin.
“Not at all. As to Waters and my investigation: depending on what evidence I get from Sergeant Orel and his corporal, I think I shall have no more need for Waters. So, I mostly likely shall let him stew in the dungeon for a few days to see how things develop, just to be sure. Then I shall rack him thoroughly for a day or two before burning him on the Wheel for all to see.”
Peep, Choke, and Knuckle all blinked in shock at Father Morrenthall at this. He smiled pleasantly at them.
“I did promise that is what I would do if he displeased me again. Did you think I was bluffing?”
“Well, no, Father, but what about the Baron?”
“He shall have to find himself a new sheriff. Understand, children, that I do not answer to the Baron. I answer to my abbot in Strana. And he has given me clear instructions to prepare this place for what is to come. This, I shall do. If that runs counter to the Baron’s preferences, then so be it.”
Father Morrenthall let this sit for a moment before continuing:
“However, I do not want you to think I am so capricious that I would condemn a man to burning only because he displeased me. No. If I had decided that Waters was worth redeeming, I would put that work in to do it. Waters is not worth redeeming, however. Indeed, he is not even redeemable. Waters is a deviant and a predator, who has long since descended into full expression of his sickness. There is no correcting someone like that. He may claim to repent and beg Stron’s forgiveness, but that is mere performance. As sharply as I might correct him, if he is given his freedom, regardless of what authority is left to him, his old habits shall creep in again.
“Consider how he behaved today. Of what I told him, he heard what he wanted to hear. He play-acted contrition and supposed to have successfully manipulated me. He admitted his crimes as though a trained bird saying the words, believing that this would reset the situation for him. Then, when he discovered he had not manipulated me, and that I was not conforming to his version of reality, he flew into a rage like a spoiled child. People such as him treat other people like objects to be moved around for their utility and amusement.
“Notice that he confessed to raping women as if it were of no matter to him. He gave no thought to his victims. He exhibited no shame. For men such as this, there is no great shame in taking women for their pleasure, regardless of the circumstances. Copulating with a willing participant is no different than raping a captive. In either case, the woman is nothing more than an object to them, whose own experience and preferences are immaterial. Boys will be boys, they tell each other, and there is no dishonor in any of it. Indeed, to be caught out on this sort of thing is almost a point of pride; a proof of virility, if you will.
“However, note how Waters was most careful to paint his collusion with Lieutenant Hamon in entrapping women as something other than pimping. It is the stigma of that label which he fears; the stain upon his public face. By his way of thinking, since he did not profit financially from the trafficking of these women, he ought to be free of the shame of it. Again, we see him regarding his fellow humans as nothing more than objects. The community only has value in that it validates his public role and gives him status. The community is as a mirror for him; one which he uses to bask in his own reflection. He is as an object himself in this conception: that of Sheriff. To have another role affixed to him, the reviled one of, Pimp, is unacceptable.
“So, you see, there is no redeeming this man. He shall burn upon the Wheel because of it. This would be his fate regardless of how he had behaved today. But he shall be thoroughly racked before the burning because he displeased me. Because he is as a loathsome stain under my sight; a putrid odor in my nostrils; like a sodden rag upon a brothel floor. And so I will indulge myself upon him, in order to cleanse his putrescence from my mind.”
Father Morrenthall paused at this again. Then he steepled his fingers and stared off into space for a good while more. His expression was terrifying. Eventually, though, he pried himself lose from his thoughts.
“Sergeant Theodas,” Father Morrenthall said.
“Yes, Father!”
“You may go to lunch now. Then execute your orders regarding the sheriff’s deputies. Do you have any questions about that?”
“No, Father!”
“Very good. On your way. Close the door behind you. I would speak to Lieutenant Pekot and Otilla privately for a moment,” Father Morrenthall said.
“Yes, Father!”
When Knuckle was gone, Father Morrenthall looked to Choke:
“Lieutenant Pekot. You, too, may take lunch before rounding up Lieutenant Cooper and relocating your people here to the church.”
“Yes, Father. Shall I go to lunch now?” Choke asked.
“Not just yet. I would have us all on the same page. Otilla: would you be willing to do a special task for me? One fitting your particular skills and predilections?”
“Yes, Father! Whatever ye say!” Peep said eagerly, her eyes beaming.
“This is a matter of some sensitivity and delicacy. I need you to do precisely as I say. And what I say now may never be repeated. Not even amongst ourselves. Is that clear?” Father Morrenthall said, looking Peep and Choke in the eye in turn.
“Yes, Father,” they both said.
“Good. Now, Otilla: with all stealth, I want you to stalk the teamster and Outfit boss, Wes. Observe the depot. Figure out his patterns, haunts, and habits. But do not startle him. Do your utmost to remain unobserved. And do not kill him.”
“No problem, Father. But, if I aint gonna kill him, then why I am stalking him?”
“So that you can kill him precisely when the time is correct,” Father Morrenthall said, his voice level. “I shall explain myself so that you understand the importance of this mission. We need Sergeant-Major Oren. We must sever him from the Outfit and turn him to our purposes. He must be isolated from the Outfit. Then, I must crack him with a complete case; blindside him with overwhelming, damning evidence. I already have Waters’ testimony. When I bring in Lieutenant Hamon, the pimp, I expect I shall have even more evidence. However, once I have Lieutenant Hamon on the hook, I shall have to release him to tell his tales, or detain him to keep him quiet. Either stands an excellent chance of spooking Oren. If he has saved enough coin, he may flee.
“Further, with everything else I must do, I do not have time to take on the Outfit boss, Wes. I have little on him, and he will not be an easy one to crack, I think. So the timing of this move is very delicate. When I am ready to take Sergeant Oren, Wes must drop. And Oren must know of it from his own sources just before we snatch him and his Corporal Butters.”
“Pardon me, Father,” Choke said, raising his hand, “and I do not mean this as a challenge. It is an honest question I ask. But, is this not going to be murder?”
“I do pardon you, Lieutenant. And I appreciate your desire for clarification in this regard. Let me answer your question with another: In a war, does a soldier murder his enemy?”
“I understand, Father. And I understand that we need Wes gone in order to press Oren properly. So, why not just detain Wes? You can snatch him up as well, can’t you? Then press him at your leisure to find out even more intelligence. Again, Father, I ask only to understand your strategic reasoning,” Choke said.
“Understood, Lieutenant. And your point is well taken. Wes could well be quite useful for us in such a case. However, if I detain him, all will know I have done so. The Baron included. This barony is no breadbasket. Without its lumber, the Baron has no real means to support his domain. To move his lumber, he needs the teamsters. So he will naturally be loath to upset them. Remember that I just cautioned the Baron against making too aggressive a move against the teamsters, lest that instigate a labor shutdown. Of course, I advised him thusly not because I wish to avoid that outcome, but because I knew that he would. I did not want him blundering in and scaring off the big game, you see.
“But now, if I move aggressively to detain Wes and upset the teamsters, the Baron may question his decision to make me magistrate. Particularly since I shall shortly do away with his pet, Sheriff Waters. However, if Wes falls to a knifeman’s blade, there will be enough confusion about the matter to obscure our involvement. As an Outfit boss, Wes is a criminal. Such men get their throats cut all the time. Perhaps this is Sneed’s work, or some other Outfit agents; punishment for Wes’ failure to manage you Pekot Bunch correctly. The teamsters will surely suspect Otilla. But with Sergeant Orel and his corporal detained, there will be enough uncertainty to muddy the waters. Probably. And even if there isn’t, and the teamsters buck, then I don’t particularly care. With what is coming, they all shall have to be conscripted as soldiers soon enough anyway. But it is worth a try, and I may as well do our best to keep the Baron off my back. Yes?”
“I understand, Father. Thank you for explaining it to me,” Choke said.
“Not at all, Bartholomew. Thank you for asking for clarification. Now, Otilla: because things shall be moving quickly, and I do not want to discuss these matters ever again, I shall issue you your mission’s orders now. As I said, you are to stalk Wes and prepare for his assassination. To this end, you may come and go here as you please. Eat and sleep when you want. I shall tell Mrs Dunn to accommodate you. I just require that at least twice a day you check in here with her. When I want Wes killed, she shall tell you that I say, ‘rooster.’ That is your call to action. Rooster. As well, if any of our people seek you out to tell you, ‘Father says, “rooster,”’ you are to get the job done as soon as possible. Understood?”
“Yes, Father.”
“As to the job. It would be best that Wes alone dies. No proper teamsters, of course. And no uninvolved parties. If a bodyguard or two must drop, then so be it, but I would prefer it otherwise. If possible, only Wes. And no witnesses. It is important that this killing not be definitively linked to us. To that purpose: no fire. This is blade work alone. Understood?”
“Yes, Father.”
“However, while we do not want witnesses to the killing itself, we need the killing known as quickly as possible. He is not to disappear. His body must be found. As well, the Outfit is known to engage in grotesque displays of violence when punishing their own. So feel free to add whatever flourish you would like. But you need not force yourself to any excess that would be upsetting to you; whatever you are comfortable with. What I am saying, though, is that a making a bloody mess of his remains, while leaving his face intact, would be ideal. Do you understand, Otilla?”
“Yeah. Not a problem, Father.”
“Good. Thank you, Otilla. I know that this is a difficult assignment. It is a tricky matter and must be handled with utmost care and delicacy. But I think you are up to the task. Draw from the church whatever equipment you think you may need. Mrs Dunn will help you with that. Any questions?”
“No, Father. I’ll get it done.”
“Excellent. And now we will never speak of this again. You both have your orders. You may now go to lunch. Thank you,” Father Morrenthall said, sending Peep and Choke on their way.
Muse Vassal 
The soup thickens
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