Stretching, the old captain lazily dug into the drawers of his desk and pulled out a thick shot glass and a fancy looking bottle of whiskey. Pouring a glass, he quickly turned it down in a single swallow, before refilling it a second time. "Here," he chuckled lightly, "I think you can use this." Getting up, he eased over and sat the whole bottle down in front of Sergeant Briggs.
"Oh, Lady Gia, thank the heavens that monster is finally gone!" Slumping back in his chair, Sergeant Briggs looked almost ready to faint at any moment.
"Yep," is all the old captain said, turning up the bottle to take another heavy swig from it, before offering it out to Sergeant Briggs again.
"That *shinta*? It didn't seem that dangerous to me," Private Stratton said, frowning slightly. "What's the big deal?"
"What's the big deal? What's the big deal?!" Sergeant Briggs looked up incredulously towards the older captain. "Sir! Can I request permission to beat the living shit out of Private Dumbass? Sir!"
"Sure, you can request it," the old captain chuckled as he returned back to his seat. "I'd have to deny the request though, I'm afraid."
"Why don't you fill our young friend here in on the horror which he foolishly missed," the caption suggested kindly. "He needs to know what to look for in the future, so he doesn't end up getting eat in this job."
"Fine," Sergeant Briggs sighed heavily, turning up the bottle to take a heavy swig from it. "But I want hazard pay for today, Captain. I've earned it."
"Agreed," the older man said amiably. "And an extra two days paid break on the days of your choice in the next mooning," the captain offered appeasingly.
"Fine." Sighing deeply, Sergeant Briggs took another deep drink from the bottle, before talking again. "Listen up, Private Dumbass," he chuckled lightly. "That shinta is scarier than a whole pack of the devil's hounds baying at your heels at midnight, but that High Lord is a true monster."
"I'll drink to that," the old captain sighed, turning up his glass and taking a sip from it. "I've met robbers, rapists, murderers, and demons in my day," he sighed heavily, "but I've never met a monster that made my heart grow cold until today."
"That High Lord?" Turning and looking out the entrance, Private Stratton just didn't see what was so impressive about him. Sure, the lord was strange, but so are a lot of the farwalkers. He really didn't notice anything too dangerous about him.
"Yes, *that* High Lord," Sergeant Briggs snorted, disgusted at Stratton's blindness. "Let's start with what should've been immediately obvious," he offered. "In all your days, have you ever saw anyone with a girth as great as *that* High Lord's?"
"Ha! That's unlikely," the old captain chuckled lightly. "I've met his lord majesty in person before, and I'll admit he's well-endowed, but that High Lord probably as a good fifty or sixty pounds on him. An average male weighs close to 150 pounds," the caption informed him calmly. "I imagine that High Lord would weigh close to twice that amount."
"Can you imagine just how much food he's had to consume alone, to get that much bulk on his body?" The sergeant asked. "Can you imagine how much it cost just to indulge like that?"
"The level of wealth the High Lord has, has to be completely outlandish," the captain confirmed.
"And, if you noticed his hands," Sergeant Briggs sighed deeply, feeling sorry for Stratton's blindness, "their wasn't a blemish or callus anywhere. By appearance only, that High Lord has probably never held a single weapon in his life."
"Like that's likely," the old captain snorted. "Every man needs some way to protect themselves. If his isn't by blade, then it's an unorthodox manner. Perhaps poison or alchemy. He may be a master of the inner arts. Or a keeper of ultimate relics, seeing the level of wealth he displayed."
"Whatever it is," Sergeant Briggs sighed unhappily, "it's impossible to detect. That High Lord holds a hidden strength, and I'm certain it's an absolute one."
"An absolute strength? What makes you say that?" Private Stratton asked curiously.
"Where's his escort?" Sergeant Briggs asked back. "You've been here long enough. When was the last time you saw a Small Lord farwalking without an escort, much less a High Lord?"
"Never and probably never again," the old captain snorted. "Which just goes to show the level of confidence that High Lord has in his own ability. No escort. No visible weapons. And still, not a concern in the world. If we would've made a wrong move with him, I'm certain we'd all just quietly end up disappearing without a trace and no one would ever be the wiser about us."
"Yep," Sergeant Briggs nodded, taking another heavy drink from the bottle. "And it only gets better from there! Shrugging off rank and protocol, deliberately choosing me over the captain – and then asking if I'd get in trouble over it!"
"Deliberately showed a complete disdain for rankings there," the old captain chuckled. "Was an obvious, but indirect way of saying, 'Both a captain and a sergeant are dirt beneath my boots, so it doesn't matter which I let process me.' He only chose the sergeant for a chance to stir up conflict for his own amusement."
"And then his *shinta* is recorded as a rank one corrupted?" Sergeant Briggs chuckled bitterly at that point. "That one was the only beast with him, correct?" He asked the private.
"Yes, Sir," Private Stratton answered unquestionably.
"Then how'd they get here?" Sergeant Briggs asked leadingly. "It takes a class five shinta to farwalk, and that one tested as an untainted rank one. Do you think the High Lord is a shinta?" Sergeant Briggs snorted at that suggestion. "You should know how impossible that is – men can't touch the corruption like the shinta can. It consumes them completely, if they try."
"So that means the High Lord either has a Grand Relic which can allow them to farwalk," the sergeant guessed, "or else his shinta is too powerful to be ranked and measured easily."
"I'd guess the second," the captain offered. "The calmness and indifference he showed to the testing, offers serious clues pointing to the fact that he probably had some way to manipulate the results. The High Lord wasn't the least concerned about what the results showed us."
"And that's not all, Captain." Getting up, Sergeant Briggs slowly walked across the small room and held out the registration paper gently to him. "Read it for yourself."
Taking the paper, the captain skimmed it quickly, then whistled in surprise. "Make that five damn days paid vacation, and pass me that damn bottle," he ordered gruffly.
"Why? What's on it?" Not confident enough to take the paper from his superior, all Private Stratton could do is wait curiously for someone to tell him what the paper said.
Taking a large swig, Sergeant Briggs finally passed the bottle back over to the captain before answering. "Aes'nyr," he muttered softly. "The shinta's race is listed as being half-Aes'nyr."
"Aes'nyr?" Private Stratton asked disbelievingly. "As in the Aes'nyr, Aes'nyr? The slaves of the Gods and First Borns?"
"Yep," Sergeant Briggs answered dryly, staring longingly at the bottle now in his captain's hands. "A shinta, Slave of the Gods…"
"And that High Lord holds the power to command her to the point where she let YOU put the shackles on her," the captain pointed out slowly to Private Stratton.
"Thuuummmppp…" Neither the captain nor the sergeant bothered to check on him, as Private Stratton fainted dead away; passed out laying cold upon the floor.