A small room in the basement of the palace is being used as a temporary holding, and interrogation room. The panther assassin has been dragged or carried most of the way here. The whole time he experienced drastic mood swings, as if he had somehow taken on a personality similar to the land of Bosch – constantly changing and never the same. He is unceremoniously dropped in the centre of the room, surrounded by his questioners.

The panther whimpers once, then starts tearing at the bandages around his wrist, trying to rip them off. He violently tries to break apart his manacles, succeeding only in rattling the chain, and bruising his arms.

Jonas enters the room after the guards have secured the prisoner. He stands erect, his ears a scant few inches below a ceiling built to just accommodate antlers. He looks down at the Khatta, curious to find out the whys and wherefores of this failed assassination.

Fadyr stands off to one side. The Cervani's arms are crossed and his face bears a troubled look. He may seem uninterested with the coming interrogation, but truthfully he keeps alert, hoping there will be answers from the Khatta… and hoping all the more they may help put him at ease somehow.

Standing near the prisoner, Steinhardt watches the odd Khatta impassively. .

Jonas looks at the two Cervani. "Where's Gergesene?" he asks quietly.

The two Vindsoldaten stand off to either side, watching the prisoner and the Landsknechts. One steps forward and offers "He said he was going to check with the healer, and get some further supplies."

Jonas nods to the guard. "A good thing, then. Thankee." He turns back to the two knights. "Shall we ask this rogue what he knows?"

Fadyr nods, replying quietly, "Aye."

Steinhardt nods, "Not unwise. ."

Distantly the loud chimes of Great Gretchen can be heard, striking out the hour. The two Vindsoldaten snap to attention. The one that spoke first interrupts again, "Sirs, its our hourly rotation. Do you wish us to send our replacements here, or have them take our usual station?"

Jonas adds quietly, "It might be best if one of ye asked the questions. I am unfamiliar at best with yer nobles, and interrogation takes confidence."

"Strawberries!" The Khatta giggles, managing to rip some of his bandages free enough that the blood flows again.

Jonas grunts. "Damn," he snarls, moving to put pressure on the wound. "Stop that."

"An object in motion continues in motion." The Khatta informs Jonas.

Fadyr turns his attention from the prisoner, wincing slightly.

Steinhardt glances momentarily towards the two Vindsoldaten, "I believe we should be able to handle this… Pleasant though it may not be. Your replacements may take their normal station. ."

Jonas blinks at the panther's odd comment. "Ye don't say? And what other bits o' wisdom might ye have fer us today?"

"Thank you sir." The Vindsoldat answers, and they both seem very happy to leave the room. The sound of their footsteps fade down the corridor.

Steinhardt's gaze remains for a moment in the direction the Vindsoldaten take before returning to the bound Khatta.

The Khatta glares at Jonas, and his eyes peel wide. A strange focus is in them, and his ears go flat back against his head. His whole body coils under him tightly.

Fadyr faces the Khatta again, glaring. "Where did you get that knife?" he asks, almost in a whisper.

Jonas notices the tension in the assassin, and, expecting an attack, puts his hand on one shoulder, holding the Khatta down. "Easy, Child o' Felis."

The cat almost springs at Jonas, distracted at the last second by Fadyr's words. His wild eyes focus on the Cervani, and he would shrink back if he wasn't being held down. "You Know!"

Narrowing his eyes in return, Fadyr continues, "How did you come to possess it?"

The panther giggles at Fadyr's question. A long high pitched laugh that goes on for some time. Finally he answers. "Its just a knife. You saw! Two objects fall at equal velocities regardless of mass. We're two objects… I'm falling."

Steinhardt murmurs, "Indeed; into madness. ." then, louder, "That tells us not from whence it came, friend, or how into your possession."

Fadyr takes a step toward the Khatta, but catches himself as he hears Steinhardt. He stops, but stands tensed, still glaring at the assassin.

"It's blacker than fur. I'm all black inside." The Khatta looks down at his manacled arms, at his own dark pelt. He lunges his head forward, mouth open and white teeth gleaming as he bites into his forearm, tearing. Pulling back the wound fills with blood. The panther stares at Fadyr with a red-stained muzzle, "Look! Colour!"

He turns to Steinhardt, "It's not where I got it, it's whereits been."

Jonas grunts again. "Bloody fool!" He wraps a hand around the wound, holding pressure on it. "I need a cloth or some bandages."

Steinhardt appears unconcerned with the blood flowing from the Khatta's arm. "Red, I believe, friend. . Then perchance you would share this information with us?"

Jonas struggles for a moment, repositioning the bandages already on the Khatta so that they cover the new wound as well. When done, he does not let go of the Khatta, but holds him carefully.

Fadyr strides over and reaches down, grasping one of the cat's ears tightly and pulls his head back. A hint of a snarl crosses the Cervani's face. "Why did you try to kill him, and why 'for order?'"

The prisoner's pupils narrow into small dots, as if facing a great light. He struggles as the bear holds him, but is no match for Jonas' strength. "Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. He knows! If you bite me, do I not bleed? I'm bleeding." The cat tries to bring his arms up to his face.

"And what action," Jonas asks quietly in the Khatta's ear, "caused you to stab Lord Ruthven?"

The panther focuses his white eyes on Fadyr, "Its been to Bosch!" His ear flicks as the bear speaks into it, batting against the highlander's nose.

Fadyr mutters, "Aye, and have you?"

"Don't you see? I saw you see." The Khatta snarls back at Fadyr, "You've been where I've been."

Steinhardt watches quietly for the moment; {It's been to Bosch. Which 'it'? Answer to which question? The blade… or Ruthven?}

Fadyr stands back, releasing the feline's ear. He gazes critically down at the Khatta and asks, "Where was the knife left?" In spite of the way he's looking, it doesn't sound much like a question for the prisoner.

Jonas looks up. "I left it on the table upstairs. It may have been moved, though."

"A ball rolling down a hill will continue rolling until it reaches it's original height." The black cat purrs, seemingly comforted by this statement.

Jonas grins. "But yer not rolling, laddie. Yer falling, remember?"

Fadyr grumbles under his breath, something about the Khatta's sanity, as he turns to leave.

Steinhardt peers at Fadyr, then moves to place a hand on one of the other knight's shoulders, "Easy, friend," he says softly.

"Momentum is conserved." The panther calls after Fadyr, "In any interaction momentum is conserved."

Fadyr pauses briefly. "Aye," he says, nodding to Steinhardt. "I must see to that blade, though."

Steinhardt nods, "Be wary of it," then turns back to the prisoner, "Is that so, friend? Perhaps you could tell us more?"

Fadyr whispers, "Aye, I know well to do that… " He leaves quietly, making his way back to the room they were all in not so long ago.

Jonas looks up at Fadyr as he leaves. He looks over at Steinhardt. "P'raps ye should go with him? I kin look after our friend here fer a few minutes."

The cat cries, lying his head against Jonas' hand. His voice is broken and forced through his sobbing as he prays, "Distance is a constant variable, velocity is distance over time, acceleration is velocity over time, jerk is acceleration over time."

Jonas understands the individual words that the Khatta is saying, but it makes no sense as a sentence.

The Cervani nods at Jonas. Misplaced fears, perhaps, but it could hurt little to go with the other knight. He pauses as the Khatta speaks, "Can ye, perhaps, explain a mite more to my friend here?" he asks, then moves towards the door after Fadyr. "I should return shortly." It's unclear whether he's addressing the prisoner or Jonas.

Jonas nods as Steinhardt leaves. After the two knights have left, he spins the Khatta to face him, still holding onto him. "Who is yer master?" he asks, in a conversational tone.

Fadyr walks back into the room where the group met with Lord Ruthven. Seeing the box the knife was placed in still there, he reaches for it. The Cervani hesitates, however, at the thought of what happened to him last time. He tries not to let the uncertainty show with Steinhardt there, picking up the box and opening it just long enough to make sure the blade is still present.

"Objects at rest remain at rest." The panther slumps to the ground, repeating it a few more times to himself. He licks at the stone floor, tasting it.

Steinhardt again claps Fadyr on the shoulder, apparently not noticing the other knight's uncertainty. "Then shall we return to the prisoner? Hopefully, the blade will not agitate him… "

Jonas shakes the Khatta. "Who is yer master?" he hisses. "Did Nosh'ma send you to do this thing?"

Holding the box carefully, Fadyr nods. "Aye, though there would seem little forthcoming from him."

Steinhardt nods, "Perhaps. Yet within his words there may be clues. Only by listening can we know."

The Khatta stares wordlessly up at the bear, his eyes reflecting Jonas' face. "Order, for order in all things!"

Fadyr says, "Aye, perhaps… "

Fadyr sighs deeply and strides back toward the cell.

Jonas grunts. "Whose order, eh? Whose order works through senseless death and the exploitation of a young boy? Not the natural order, I'll tell ye that fer nothing!" He shakes the Khatta again, feeling more than just a little helpless in this.

The Khatta flops like a stuffed doll, his head whipping back and forth. Drool escapes from his muzzle and down his front, and his eyes flick dizzily. When the shaking stops he mutters, "These laws cover perfect conditions in an ideal world."

Jonas chuckles. "Well then, we should have no problem then, since conditions are never perfect, and this world, whatever and wherever it is, is far from ideal."

"BOSCH!" The panther shouts up at Jonas. "Bosch! Bosch! Bosch! Bosch causes friction, Bosch causes wear! Bosch is what makes these laws just approximations."

Jonas steps away from the Khatta, releasing him in surprise at the outburst. "Does it now?" he asks, recovering. "And would the death of Ruthven cause friction?"

"Death would be ideal." The prisoner says, snapping his head forward and trying to rip through his bandages to open his wrists again.

Jonas grabs the prisoner again. "No doubt," he agrees, pulling the Khatta's head back by the scruff of his neck, "but ye're gonna die soon enough. Who's yer master?"

Fadyr opens the door and enters the cell again, standing to one side with the box held under his arm. He watches the Khatta all the more warily now. "Have you had any luck?"

"Kill me, kill me please." The panther up Jonas' arm, his head wrenched back in the bear's grasp. His eyes are full of tears, and spill out down the sides of his head. The Khatta sniffs, some of the blood flicking on his muzzle, "It's all dark here, I can't see the star."

Jonas shakes his head. "Only more babbling." He relates an approximation of what the Khatta had said. "I think his mind's snapped."

Entering the cell after Fadyr, Steinhardt nods to Jonas. "Even should his mind be broken, we need to know more. ."

Jonas looks back at the prisoner. "Child o' Felis, hear me. I promise ye this, answer these questions, and ye'll have a quick death. Kin ye do this?"

Fadyr bows his head slightly. "I do not believe he will be able to give answers," he whispers, "but if you can get them… "

"I'm answering your questions, just the questions are wrong." The Khatta pleads, "You already know the answers."

Fadyr blinks in surprise as the prisoner seems to make sense.

Jonas works some things out. "Yer master is Order, ye say. Bosch causes friction, ye say. The knife is of Bosch, ye say. Has the knife caused friction in ye?"

"You know." The Khatta stares at Fadyr, gasping, "the frame is wrong, the Frame, is wrong!"

Steinhardt moves slowly to lay one hand on Jonas' arm. "We cannot just kill him, Jonas. ." he says softly, "Though perhaps that would be the greatest mercy."

Fadyr narrows his eyes, though not angrily this time, "What 'frame?'"

"The frame of reference!" The panther giggles, his tail twitching behind him, "Results will be similar as long as the experiments use the same frame."

Jonas turns to Steinhardt. "Would ye leave a furre in agony on the battlefield then, Steinhardt? This poor fool cannot … will not survive like this! It'd be best to put him out of his misery before he succeeds in killing himself in a painful and slow fashion."

Jonas says, "This Child o' Felis is no different from a soldier who lies dying on a battlefield. He's lost already."

Fadyr says, "Mercy it may be in the long run, but it is not our place, even if so. "

Jonas says, "He's to die anyway, is he not? Fer trying to kill yer Lord Ruthven? What does it matter how he dies?"

Jonas turns back to the Khatta. "What is this proper frame o' reference ye speak of?"

Fadyr states firmly to Jonas, "It matters."

"Order above all. These are the principles which guide the world." The feline purrs.

Fadyr sighs deeply. "If you acted for order, why then with a blade of Bosch?"

Jonas says, "This babble about objects in motion and friction and such are not to my ken. What in the name o' the Mother is he on about?"

Jonas says, "I've tried to work through it, but it makes no sense when ye put it together."

Fadyr says quietly, "Our principles, physics and mathematics… what Chronotopia is centered on. Bosch is what ruins that perfection… it's… well, religion never was my strong suit, I fear."

Jonas says, "Damn. And that Brother o' Gergesene's is still missing."

Fadyr nods. "Aye, though we need to see to his return soon, if that is possible."

Jonas says, "As far as I kin make out, I think that knife has snapped this poor fellow's mind like an old piece o' twine. Why he wanted to kill Ruthven "for Order" and where he got the knife are beyond my ken."

Jonas says, "But the knife is most definitely o' Bosch."

Fadyr says, "Aye, I am aware of that. It is precisely why I did not want to leave it about for someone to stumble upon."

Jonas nods. "Kin we get anymore out of this fellow, do ye think? And what do we do about him? I'm fer putting him down, quick-like, as ye know. We can't leave him alone, he'll tear his arms up and bleed to death if we do.

Fadyr tilts his chin up slightly. "We turn him over to the palace guard. He is Lord Ruthven's prisoner, not ours."

Jonas grunts. "And do ye think he'll tell them anymore than he's told us?"

Fadyr notes, "Likely not."

The Khatta shakes his head, "No, no. The knife is order. Its just been to Bosch."

Jonas turns back to the Khatta. "And Bosch has caused friction on the knife?"

Fadyr blinks, looking to the box involuntarily. "What do you mean? Who made it?"

A familiar Korv knight knocks upon the door and peers in. "Ah! Good news, my friends."

Jonas says, "Eh? Ye've found yer brother then, Gergesene?"

The Khatta looks up at Fadyr, holding out his manacled and bandaged hands, "Give it to me and I'll show you the experiment."

Steinhardt turns from the conversation 'twixt Fadyr and Jonas and looks to Gergesene, "Good news? It could be well used."

"No, no," the Korv says as he steps in. "It appears that Lord Ruthven is out of danger – the knife was merely turned by his mail shirt, so that it cut along a rib, thank the Star. How fare ye with our prisoner?"

Fadyr regards the feline evenly. "Tell me the experiment, I think we shall keep the blade from you for now."

Steinhardt shakes his head, "I fear we have little solid information, Sir St. Germain, though he has told us much."

The panther shakes his head, answering Fadyr. "No, you have to observe and see the results for yourself. Weren't you watching? How do you quantify that error?"

"Lord Ruthven is a veritable example for all of we Landsknechts, as well he should be, having come up through our own ranks before he retired," the Korv continues, his tone admiring. "Such stolidity in the face of pain! A true soldier."

Gergesene ehs? "An experiment?"

Jonas says, "The experiment was the assassination, I would gather."

"Perhaps an incorrect hypothesis, friend," Steinhardt comments wryly to the Khatta, "or the initial assumptions of the 'experiment' were incorrect."

Gergesene looks horrified. "What blasphemy is this?"

Fadyr seems a bit more interested now. "I am not sure what to make of it, but how do YOU quantify it, hmmm?" His eyes don't shift from the prisoner.

Jonas says, "This poor Child o' St. Felis seems to have gone mad, Gergesene. He keeps babbling about friction and order and bodies in motion and such."

Fadyr murmurs, "Quoting the Principa Mechanica… "

"Bosch." The Khatta replies, his eyes also not shifting from Fadyr's. His pupils slowly expand till they seem to fill his eyes. Like he's in the darkest night.

"It sounds as if he has been reading the Principa Mechanica a little over-enthusiastically," the Korv says bemused as he rubs his beak-chin. "Ah! But you're an outlander, you wouldn't be familiar with the text. Hmm, how does it go?"

"Everything can be derived from first principles!" The Khatta screams.

Jonas looks at the knights. "First principles?"

Fadyr cocks his head to one side. "Why did you experiment, did you expect Bosch was the answer? Did you expect you would chance things?"

"Lo," the Korv declaims. "In the perfect world, all things are ruled by the order of law, such that energy is neither destroyed nor created, nor matter be made nor extinguished, and the two are made brethren to each other; yet fear ye the forces of Chaos that strive to topple this perfect Order, for they introduce the powers of Entropy that causes the Grand Machine to stutter and malfunction, that all parts do not move in perfect unison as they should… Now what was it about experiments?"

"Yes, yes!" The panther cries at Gergesene's words, crawling towards him.

Jonas shakes his head. "That makes about as much sense to me as a Child o' Percheron craving meat," he admits.

The Korv continues, "And so do not destroy wantonly, lest ye only feed that which is Chaos, rendering asunder the delicate order of all things; let your tools be that of the Scientific Method, that having once repeated an experiment, it shall cast the pure light of Order upon the Void, and what once was unknown, shall become Theory. Yea verily, take ye that which is Chaotic and burn it in the crucible of the True Faith, and by the color of the smoke shall ye know its true nature… " He sighs. "Ah! If only we had our good Brother Salvatori here; he could recite chapter and verse, I'm sure."

"So, what precisely has this to do with our wretched assassin here?" wonders Gergesene.

Jonas looks down at the Khatta. "Was that yer experiment then? To test Ruthven for purity?

Fadyr furrows his brow and repeats quietly to himself, "'… having once repeated an experiment… '"

The panther whimpers, crouched in a ball at Gergesene's feet as he listens to the words. Tears stream down the sides of his face and he nods with each sentence. His eyes search pleadingly at the Korv.

"Let me repeat the experiment." The black cat begs.

The Korv boggles and staggers back against the walls. "Sacred light of the Star protect us!"

"I am afraid we cannot allow that, friend," Steinhardt gravely informs the Khatta.

Jonas says, "But … if ye were testing fer purity, why use the Boschian blade?"

The Khatta turns and holds up his arms at Fadyr. Bandaged, manacled arms, with the wrists torn open and blood streaking out from under the wrappings into his black fur. His eyes lock with the stag's, and again his pupils are wide open. "You know. Let me show them."

"A confused mind," Gergesene says sadly. "It is a time-tried tenet of our faith, to walk the bounds of Bosch, to define its limits and drive that which is Chaos and strange inward. As I understand it, they perform certain tests – dropping various objects, swinging pendulums about, waving their censers full of smoke – and when all proves thrice-tested, then we move the borders outward. But of late, it has been inward that we place our way-markers. But only a truly estranged mind could think that the Scientific Method was to be applied to our lords!" He looks shaken.

Jonas looks at Fadyr. "What does he think ye know, Fadyr?"

Fadyr steps back calmly, watching the panther. "What I know of this knife does not lead me to consider it safe, much less a proper instrument of sacred experiments," he answers the cat. "Can you argue otherwise?"

"Yes!" The panther nods, "It is a part of the great machine."

Gergesene boggles some more, trying to envision a world where Chronotopians went about regularly stabbing their seated nobles to cast out Boschian influences. "No," he mutters. "Sheer insanity this must be."

Fadyr leans down slightly, "And how did it get so deeply into Bosch?"

Steinhardt nods, silently agreeing with Gergesene's statement.

The Khatta reaches for the box, trying to grab it or what is inside it. "Let me see it, I'll show you how it got so deeply into Bosch."

Fadyr retreats more hastily now, keeping the box out of the feline's reach.

"Take the knife!" The cat implores, "Take it, you'll see."

"Clearly," the Korv says. "The unfortunate Khatta's mind has been disordered. I suggest that we commend him to the care of the monastery, so that they may devote their efforts to purifying him of the taint of Bosch, which he has received. The poor tortured soul, he does not know what it is that he is doing."

Jonas grunts. He's already made his ideas known on the matter.

Fadyr nods. "Aye, perhaps the monastery would indeed be best. He should be kept safe, from himself primarily." The Cervani's eyes go to the box in a thoughtful look, though.

Jonas says, "The knife does appear to be the key to the matter. I wonder where he got it."

"Hold it, like this, with the blade pointing down." The panther clasps his hands in front of him, wrists level with his shoulder, "Like this, and you'll see."

Fadyr glances around at his companions.

The Korv blinks at Fadyr. "You're not seriously thinking of trying it, I trust?"

Steinhardt peers at the other Cervani, "Given what happened last time ye grasped the knife, it sounds a fairly ill-thought idea."

Jonas shrugs. "I'll admit that it's not the wisest thing we could do, but it seems to be our only choice if we're to find anything about this bloody thing. He's not going to tell us much more."

"Order above all, you'll see." The panther begs, still holding his hands up to Fadyr.

Fadyr nods. "It seems unwise… given last time. Sir Gergesene, perhaps he should be taken to the monastery now? It seems he has little more to say on the matter. If we are about done here, I have a squire to see to."

Jonas says, "Aye. We'd best see that the lad is all right as well, given today's excitement."

The Khatta whimpers, trying to stand and get closer to Fadyr, "Please, if you won't show them, then let me. You need to understand the experiment."

The Korv nods. "I'll speak to Lord Ruthven's seneschal. I'm sure that he will see the benefits of committing the poor, wretched Khatta to the Blessed Rose monastery." He names a reclusive group of priests who are famed for their closed-mouthedness. They eschew the distractions of the outside world for the light of the inner world.

Jonas grunts. "I'm almost tempted to say give him the damned thing, Fadyr."

"Hold it like this, you'll see." The black cat demonstrates again, re-clasping his hands.

Fadyr sighs, reaching to lean against a wall. "Nay, not without knowing more."

Jonas says, "I wonder if we kin know more, without doing what he says."

The Korv waves it off dismissively. "We know what we need to. He is clearly an agent of Bosch, sent to eliminate a true hero of our land. Let us set our aims upon other knowledge, less dangerous, more useful."

Fadyr nods a bit. "Aye. I trust you can handle things here then, Sir Gergesene?"

"Quite," the Korv says cheerfully. "Perhaps you should see to our young Jael? I'll speak with the Seneschal."

Jonas grunts. "I'll go with Fadyr."

Gergesene trots off to see to having a prisoner transferred to the tender cares of close-mouthed priests.

Steinhardt watches Gergesene leave and sighs heavily. "This has, without a doubt, been a day of memories."

The panther shakes his head, "No no no, I'm still a loyal servant of Chronotopia. You have to observe the experiment for yourself. You'll see the frame of reference."

Jonas nods. "I, fer one, could use a drink." He looks down at the pathetic Khatta. "Mother's Mercy on ye, furre."

Fadyr looks to the other knight. "Sir Steinhardt, it has been eventful. If you wish no more excitement, would you be good enough to wait outside a moment?"

Jonas looks askance at Fadyr.

Steinhardt almost agrees and begins to leave before stopping cold, "You intend then, to try this lunatic's 'experiment'? Nay; I shall not leave and chance making this day more exciting with the addition of a death."

Fadyr chuckles faintly, not at all certain of what he is about to do. "Well, I'm glad that's settled." Opening the box, he looks to Jonas. "I suppose if you wish to wait outside… "

Jonas reaches over and picks up his sword and slings it over his back. "Not a chance, Fadyr. Yer a good feller, and ye're much better with the lad than I am. I have every intention of keeping ye alive." He grins.

The panther waves his clasped hands at Fadyr again, begging and reaching up to him.

Fadyr smiles a little. "Good to know." He sets the box down and takes the knife from it, holding it in both hands out before him, blade down…

…

The silence is absolute as Fadyr takes up the blade, except for the distant ticking of some unseen clock. Tick, Fadyr grasps the blade. Tick, he places his other hand on it. Tick, he brings it up in front of him.

Tick…

The room vanishes in a burst of darkness. Walls, roof, furnishings melting away. Beside him, his companions are frozen statues, composed of tiny interlocking gears, all stopped. Kneeling in front of him the Khatta remains normal, still bound.

His bindings are different from the chitin manacles he was wearing. "Please." The cat begs, and Fadyr sees what is holding him down. Levers, screws, gears, small machines, all pulling at him. Each one removes a small piece of the panther and takes it into the darkness. The Khatta is slowly shrinking, down to the size of a small animal, but still he holds his hands up to Fadyr. "Save me from the darkness."

Fadyr kneels slowly, wide-eyed. "H-how? I don't understand… what is this?"

The pommel of the dagger glows, the only light. A bright light, shining up into the Cervani's face. "It wasn't strong enough, but it will be for me." The assassin explains, still dwindling. His eyes seem to pull at the light, sucking it, the blackest thing Fadyr has ever seen. "Before it's too late."

Fadyr frowns. "Kill you, you mean? I… I cannot… " He shifts uneasily, more at the sight of those dark eyes than anything.

The Khatta stops shrinking when he is the size of a toy truck. Freezing like everyone else in the room. His eyes are still alive, trapped in the inert body. A gear attaches to his tail, and slowly starts unscrewing it. A small lever pops off his right leg, exposing a clockwork interior. The panther opens his mouth, and it sticks that way.

The Cervani shivers, looking around and feeling lost. His fingers tighten around the handle of the knife. "I don't understand," he mutters, "what am I suppose to do?"

The light from the pommel increases, illuminating around the two. Fadyr sees gears, as if he was inside the Cathedral of Precision. They aren't behaving any way a normal machine should. They speed up and slow down, stop, break apart and reform. They move without motivation, and collapse. Disorder. The Khatta's arm falls off, and breaks open. Its component parts dance off into this parody of the Great Machine.

"Restore Order." The Khatta breathes.

Fadyr narrows his eyes and repeats quietly, "Restore Order?" He tries to find the meaning in that. If the Khatta means the chaos he finds around him now, Fadyr has no idea where to start. Uncertainly, he takes one hand from the knife and reaches slowly to the feline's odd form, wondering if these gears can be set right.

The symbol on the pommel of the dagger becomes clear. The cogwheel, the five pointed star. The prime gear, the one that sets the whole Grand Machine in motion. The only gear in the room that doesn't have a life of it's own, just the light of first principles.

The back of the Khatta lifts off, exposing more of his clockwork. His gears start to bounce out, rolling away. One gear stops halfway up Jonas, and turns, zipping around and around the highlander. There seems to be less and less of the panther, as screws and springs pop out of him as he disassembles.

Fadyr draws his hand back, clutching at the knife as he recognizes the mark. He clings to it, as the one piece of order to the whole scene. Then, almost without thinking about it, he springs to slash at the spreading gears with the blade.

The escaping gears try to evade Fadyr as he slashes, but he is faster. The ones touched stop, becoming inert. So many have vanished, and the panther still rests frozen, as parts of him gain the life he is losing. There is little more than his eyes remaining, held up by a small cat-shaped frame.

Fadyr frowns and moves back to the panther, carefully pressing the blade to him, though afraid to do more…

The panther's eyes start to shine like the cogwheel on the pommel of the dagger. Blinding light.

… Tick

Fadyr steps forward and carefully presses the blade against the chest of the assassin, and pushes in. Blood.

Jonas waits as Fadyr positions the knife for something to happen. When Fadyr quite suddenly (to his perception) thrusts the blade into the assassin's chest, he starts. "Fadyr!" he exclaims.

Steinhardt, as surprised as the bear, stares wide-eyed at the other Landsknecht, unsure just what to feel or how to react; this should not have happened, even though mercy was,perhaps, better served in this manner. Still, why… ?

The bear steps forward, and then pauses, unsure of what to do.

Fadyr bows his head as he draws the dagger back, a tear running down his cheek.

Just at that moment, the door clicks open and several guardsmen of Ruthven's colors step into the room, followed by a Korv in chitin breastplate and an elderly Cervani. "That's odd," Gergesene comments. "I would have expected them to have left the prisoner for – Sir Rainscroft!"

The panther lies lifeless, his blood slowly penetrating his shirt and spreading out beneath him.

Gergesene stares completely shocked. What could have possessed Fadyr to do such an insane thing?

Jonas kneels by the corpse, looking at it. A killing blow, straight through the heart. He looks up at Fadyr, and demands, "What did you see?!"

Fadyr shivers, looking down at the bloodied knife in his hand, eyes on the pommel and the symbol there. "See?" he whispers. "What had to be done."

…