"I apologize," he said, now using his normal eccentric accent. "My behavior was unfitting."
"But you have to understand, nothing about any of this makes sense," he continued, returning to the short rhythmic accent.
Vondell held Gregory's gaze. "Who have you told?"
Gregory relaxed in his seat, breaking eye contact with Vondell, and staring back into the fire. "I'm not a simpleton. And no one would believe me anyway," he replied.
"But," he added, lifting a hand into the air. He snapped his fingers and a white flower appeared. "I still have the contract irons," he finished, before snapping his fingers again. The white flower slowly morphed into a branding iron, with a glowing blue tip.
"Will it work through your polymorph?" Vondell asked skeptically.
"These contract irons brand the soul, not the flesh. It'll work through the polymorph," Gregory replied, getting up from his chair.
"Your healing grace is quick, but it's already night time. If we're doing this, we have to hurry up," he said, removing his cloak and tunic. He knelt on the floor, exposing his back to Vondell. "You know the required runes?" he asked.
Vondell nodded, looking at the branding iron and then at Gregory's clear-skinned back. "Put this in your mouth," he said, tossing Gregory one of the rags.
Gregory looked at it for a moment, before tossing it aside. "Don't patronize me. Even if I couldn't help back then, I'm still a knight."
Vondell shrugged, pulling the chair from the fireplace so he could sit right behind Gregory.
"So, what's the catch. What do you want?" he asked.
"I want to know who you are. What you're doing here."
Vondell shook his head at that. "I can't tell you that," he replied, inspecting the branding iron. On the glowing blue side the metal had been fashioned into a symbol depicting two chain links, while the other side had an extremely sharp tip.
"But," he said, placing the sharp end at the top of Gregory's back. "I can promise you I don't give a rat's arse about this continent or its politics. You don't have to worry about Antras starting a coup," he added, before driving the sharp tip into Gregory's back.
Gregory jerked forward, letting out a muffled scream.
"Next question. As it stands the contract is too uneven," Vondell said, before pricking his finger. He applied some of the blood to the branding iron's shaft and whispered "Activos." With that, the shaft began glowing red.
"The Elves died off decades ago, or at least that's what were taught at the academy. Was that a lie?" Gregory asked.
"No. It wasn't," Vondell replied, before dragging the sharp tip down. He tore through Gregory's flesh, and drew a straight lined rune. Gregory let out a soft groan, staring at Vondell's dancing shadow on the wall. The flames made it look as if it were alive, as if everything else around it were bathed in yellow flames.
"What happened to Elysia?" Gregory asked after he had recovered.
Vondell drew another rune on his back, making Gregory's body tremble in pain.
"Elysia is gone," Vondell replied blankly. "Someone burned it," he added.
Silence descended upon the room for a moment. Vondell knew what question was coming next.
"Did you burn it?"
Vondell let the question hang in the air, instead drawing sevarl more runes on Gregory's back. After several minutes, a small pool of blood had collected on the floor, and Gregory's back was completely covered in runes, accept for a small part at the centre.
"It doesn't matter who burnt it. It's gone now," he replied finally, before standing up.
"Now do you have any last questions, before I start the ritual?"
Gregory thought about it for a moment.
"30 years ago, there was a great fire that burned down The Temple of Mechos in Mechalos. They said it was a fire god from another pantheon, but I'm starting to think—"
"Yes it was me," Vondell replied abruptly, before stabbing the sharp end of the branding iron into his palm. He grunted in pain, as the blood trailed down to the glowing blue side.
"Why?" Gregory asked as the blue tip approached his back.
"The gods need something to fear," Vondell replied, pressing the branding iron against Gregory's flesh. It burned into his skin with a hissing sizzle.
Gregory's face scrunched up in pain, and he bit the edge of the bed to prevent himself from letting out a sound, scraping off the wood with his teeth.
"And at least until I'm done here. I'll be that something, that shadow they constantly have to watch over their shoulders for," he finished.
The bloody runes etched into Gregory's flesh began to exude black mist, until a large cloud hung over his back.
Vondell tossed the branding iron aside, and placed his bloody finger on Gregory's back. "Blood to blood," he said, wiping his blood on one of the runes. "Flesh to flesh," he continued, pressing into the wound. "We give this pain and suffrage, in exchange for access."
The black cloud twisted and slithered in the air, slowly morphing into a humanoid shape.
"This contract is skewed," a low hoarse voice called out.
The cloud had fashioned itself into an elderly woman, with a hunched back and hooded cloak over her head. She held a paper and a quill in her hand, which steadily oozed thick globs of crimson on to the floor.
This was an echo of The Keeper, a foreign god of contract and secrets. Summoning it was illegal, and punishable by death on the pyre. However, its nature was untraceable, not even a high level empyrean could detect it if it were in the same room as them.
"I consent to contract," Gregory called from his spot on the ground, breathing haggardly.
"The contract is skewed, even with consent," the elderly woman repeated, two yellow eyes peering up at Vondell.
"How do I amend it?" Vondell asked.
"Knowledge," she replied, pointing her quill at Gregory.
~She's saying I haven't told him enough?~ VOndell thought to himself, weighing if it was still worth going through with the contract.
Even if he revealed something important, Gregory wouldn't be able to repeat it, without dying. And he had already drawn his blood, regardless the price of the contract would be paid, whether or not they went ahead with it.
Vondell looked back at the fire. For a moment, he could've sworn he saw people screaming inside it.
He closed his eyes, and he could almost hear his people screaming. He could almost smell the cinder, and ash. He could almost feel the unbearable heat of those flamed. "You asked me if I was the one who burnt Elysia," he said, opening his eyes.
"Yes," he replied blankly.
"I caused the fire."