The sound of a harmonica resounded through the jail, playing mournful tunes, in a key was only mostly broken, to a tune that sounded like it was composed by a snake. The combined effect was greater than the sum of it's parts and made the whole thing almost bearable to listen to.

  "Eislock you are my friend, and I appreciate you," Banks said wondering if she should perhaps tear of his ears. "But if you don't stop playing, or at least play something halfway good, I will send you off to reincarnation myself."

  "What about the 'Thirteen Isles of Pretty Right'?" Eislock asked.

  "I don't know that one," he admitted. There were so many songs over the ages, that combined with the various different places, cultures and sub-cultures that he long forgotten ninety percent of the songs that he had heard. Instead he silently sat tapping his knees as the man played out a surprisingly elaborate tune on his harmonica.

  "Would you shut up," an angry deep voice came from the room opposite, and a bulky man nearly eight feel tall and half as wide banged against the bars. "Stop blowing into that blasted thing. How did you even get a musical instrument past the guards?"

  "We weren't officially processed," Banks said. "They just chucked us in here and said to wait for the Chief. Took weapons and left the harmonica. Hey Eislock, do you know 'Her Lady Clad in Veils of Red'".

  "No, but if you hum it I can play it," he offered generously holding up his instrument.

  "Okay, it goes something like this," he started.

  "Didn't you hear what I said," the unreasonably aggressive man said. "Do you know who I am and why I'm here? I'm part of the Deri gang. I'm in here for murder. Alleged murder," he corrected taking a small step back.

  "Big deal," Banks snorted. "Who hasn't killed a couple of people."

  "Yeah, I must have killed a dozen people this life," Eislock stated patiently. "And you, what's your kill count friend?"

  "Shit, I don't know," he said thinking back. "Don't have the best memory but it's a lot more than a dozen. It's not really classy to keep track of your kills. What do you think I am. An Arimean collecting fingers."

  "I'll break all of your fingers if you don't simmer down," the man said.

  "Firstly, you're behind bars, so these are all just empty threats," Banks started. "Secondly, I don't know about my friend here, but I'm really not afraid of some posturing local thug."

  "I'm not really afraid either," Eislock said. "The two of us just ganked a Golden Guard. Even if I die, I'm not going to be too dissatisfied."

  "I'm not going to die here," Banks said calmly as the shorter man started to play his harmonica again. This was nowhere near the worst situation. Worse comes to the worst he can just escape without resetting. There was a mana suppressive field over the prison that restricted anybody from using their magic, to an extent of course. It was much weaker than the one in the casino, but then again the Mana Levels in that age were about twice what they were in this one. Of course no mana suppressive field could ever block out a Nevadie's innate ability to blow themselves up.

  "Destroyed a Golden Guard," the man said, his voice filled with not a small level of amazement. "Then you're dead anyway. They never let anybody who even attacks one of those live."

  "Maybe," Banks said. "But I fear that they have bigger problems at this current time."

  A door slammed open on the far side of the room and the sound of loud footsteps thundered in. A woman with darker skin and a sharp face, fully clad in golden plate armor appeared flanked by a squad of guards. She peered into their cell, eyeing up the pair before frowning at the substandard harmonica playing. She paused as if to consider for a moment before she turned towards one of the guards.

  "I'll speak to the short one first," she said as she inserted a key and the guards drew their weapon. "Prepare the interrogation room." One of the guards moved off, apparently to follow her instructions and she gestured at Eislock.

  "Don't worry I won't tell them a damn thing," the Nevadie stated defiantly.

  "Why?" Banks asked. "There's literally nothing you know that I care about them finding out."

  "Oh, great then," Eislock said, turning towards the guards. "Don't worry I'll spill everything."

  "Patience," the woman in gold said giving him a long look, that he matched before she stepped backwards as a pair of guards, firmly grabbed the Nevadie by his shoulders and escorted him away, before the cell door slammed behind them and was locked. For a few moments silence reigned, before Banks spotted something.

  "Hey, he left the harmonica," Banks said as he picked up the musical instrument and wiped it off, before he attempted his own rendition of 'Her Lady Clad in Veils of Red', which the other man in the prison didn't really appreciate.

  xxx

  About half on a hour later the woman in gold returned with a few member of the squad, but without his companion. He continued to play the harmonica, as he shot a look towards her. She had an impressively impassive face, despite his terrible playing and he wondered whether her conversation had gone well or poorly. Synchronously two guards stepped up next to him, firmly grasping his arms as they moved forward.

  "You're up next," she said. "Your friend already spilled the beans. I hope you will corroborate his story."

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  "Sure I can corroborate any story you want me too," Banks said as he was marched out of the room, down several halls and to a small windowless blue room, where he was then seated on a quite uncomfortable wooden chair in front of a metal table. The woman sat opposite him and the two other soldiers took up position in the room, looking down on him.

  "I am Commander Andelias. Right now I control your life and death. Speak, tell us what happened," she said sternly.

  "Sure," Banks said. "So it started when I woke up thousands of years in the future."

  "Is this a joke to you," the Commander said. "Speak seriously or I'll make sure you never speak again." Her words were stern, but there was an undercurrent of fear beneath the surface.

  "I was at the tavern drinking with a new friend," Banks said. "We were just talking when a few squads burst in looking for something. I don't remember the room. After about a two and a half minutes there was an explosion and the ceiling collapsed. We survived the collapse, but the Golden Guard went berserk and it took everything that my friend and I had to put it down."

  "Not an easy feat, by most measures," the Commander admitted. "A very brief summation."

  "Yup, right after that all of you burst in and we were arrested," Banks said.

  "One more thing," the Commander said. "Your friend saw one more thing. Before the creature died, did you see any strings?"

  "I did," Banks admitted, and the Commander's face seemed to tighten. "Damnit, I think our naturalist was right. We have a Raknid in the city." Her voice turned serious as she stood up pointing at one of the other guards. "We need to set up multiple watches around the city for any evidence of it's puppets. Maybe check out the older buildings across the river and in the sewers. If we're quick we can catch it before it captures too many."

  "It wasn't a Raknid," Banks spoke up, breaking through the serious atmosphere. "Maybe your naturalist should put on some clothes and pick up a book."

  "What are you babbling about," the Commander said glaring down at him. "Are you looking down on our professional abilities?"

  "I guess," Banks said despite the rising animosity. "Look I can give you three reasons that it wasn't a Raknid."

  "Then speak before I get really angry," the Commander said sitting down again as she regarded him with deep suspicion.

  "Firstly there was no twitching," he said. "Raknid are generally good puppeteers, but they will eventually give up the disguise, with the bodies they puppeteer rapidly and uncontrollably twitching." He made a gesture with his hands to indicate something spazzing out.

  "Maybe it was an experienced Raknid," the Commander countered.

  "Nope," Banks stated firmly. "They can suppress it for a while, but we killed it. When you kill one of the Raknid's puppets they go berserk. This is an instinctual reaction. The twitching is akin to blinking and while they can restrain it for a while, the death of the puppet is akin to you being poked right in the eye. They genuinely cannot help it."

  "You said three reasons," she said.

  "Strings will always point the direction of the Raknid," Banks said. "These ones may have faded unusually fast, but they pointed mostly upwards, and Raknid cannot and will not fly."

  "I did hear that," the Commander admitted. "Third reason?"

  "Raknid live in the jungle," Banks said mercilessly. "If one somehow found it's way here then it wouldn't be setting up a lair with puppets. It would be fleeing from this city as fast as it possibly can. They never set up a web in a place that they can't control." The room was very quiet for a moment as the Commander sat there as if pondering the information she had received.

  "Have you met a Raknid before?" the Commander said, a hint of warmth creeping into her voice.

  "Met one, fought one, survived one," Banks said. Killed one, he didn't say. He didn't have a decent weapon and didn't want them to get too high expectations of him.

  "You seem to be quite knowledgeable. What do you think is the culprit?" the Commander asked.

  "Nothing I know of matches the description," Banks admitted. "Raknid have no closely related species as far as I am aware. There are a couple of people that I know of that have similar magic. The Fallen Marionette's have something like that but on a smaller scale."

  "Interesting, but unhelpful," the Commander said. "Where are you from."

  "I'm a bit of a wanderer," Banks said.

  "You're very suspicious," the Commander said. "But I don't believe that you're antagonistic. You wouldn't have allowed yourself to get arrested if you are with the rebels and the rest of the occupants in the tavern corroborated your story after we dug them out from the rubble."

  "So you're letting us go?" Banks asked.

  "Fuck no," the Commander said. "You're still as suspicious as hell and I don't want you wandering around outside causing more trouble. While you did defend yourself you still destroyed one of our Golden Guards which is not a crime that I can ever let you get away with. While I won't kill you, I am going to hit you with the worst punishment I can think of."

  "And that is?" he asked narrowing his eyes, scrutinizing the woman before him who reached under the table and chucked something at him. He blinked and turned to regard the item, it was a silver ornately decorated badge in the shape of a shield, with the number 17,643 on it and an image of a stylized version of the Undying Emperor done as a side portrait.

  "Congratulations, you've been deputized," the Commander said as the door slammed open and a familiar Nevadie walked in.

  "Hey, fellow cop buddy," Eislock said. "How does it feel to be part of the force?"

  "Huh, I've done a lot of things in my time," Banks remarked. "Never thought I'd ever be a pig."

  "What was that," the Commander snapped, her mana flaring dangerously.

  -2 seconds

  "Never thought I'd ever be a cop." he reworded his statement. "Alright what's our assignment and what do you need us to do."

  "For now rest up," the Commander said. "There's rebels, everywhere and if some of the stories I've heard from the Old Town are true there may be worse than that."

  "Didn't think you cared about the Old Town," the Nevadie said getting a sharp glare.

  "For the most part I don't," the Commander admitted. "As long as the gangs are well-behaved and don't get too uppity I don't care if they kill themselves off. But when I have some of my men die, and a few low lives taking advantage of the current chaos, then I can very easily find motivation to care."

  "Besides you're worried it might spill over," Banks said. "Ghosts?"

  "You've seen them also," the Commander said, raising an eyebrow. "Specters in the middle of the day is not a good sign. I dread to see what the night is like. Show them to their rooms Jakk. Let them have a few hours of rest for our triumphant heroes then, tonight we're all going ghost hunting."