The flickering lights hovered like diligent fireflies illuminating a windowless barren room containing only a metal table and a few uncomfortable looking chairs. One one side sat a man of average height with dark blue hair, perhaps a tad overweight, with dark steel handcuffs wrapped around his wrists. It was a somewhat familiar looking room for him, but the last time he hadn't been handcuffed. It looks like he had been upgraded in his treatment or downgraded. Opposite him sat two people, a familiar looking dark-skinned woman dressed in golden plate and a new man, with a somewhat brutish demeanor with a thin moustache and dressed in loose robes. They hadn't spoken a word since they arrived, or offered him a glass of water or anything, the service was truly terrible. Worse, the alcohol in his system was making him sleepy and he wanted nothing more to doze off. Even the hard ground felt very appealing to the him of the moment.

  "Name," pencil moustache said, suddenly out of the blue. Or maybe he was building up to that over time. Banks had barely been paying attention.

  "Banks," Banks said, getting a stern look from the man.

  "Real name," he stated.

  "Banks is the name that I've used for my entire life and what everybody knows me as," he stated. "You're not reading my facial expressions or heart rate for a lie. Is this some kind of way of detecting absolute truth, because I can promise you that I know myself as Banks." Actually the concept of True Name had changed over time from birth given name to chosen name for a while, with certain times and places leaning towards one or the other. In the past they were more strict about the birth name.

  "Feel like enlightening us to what that other name is?" the man asked Banks.

  "No," Banks replied immediately. He had gone through a lot of trouble forgetting that stupid name. Even if this future didn't exist he wasn't going to say it and let it enter the world again.

  "You know, you have been linked to the disappearance of the Emperor," the man with a pencil moustache said. "Furthermore you are our only link to the disappearance and you claimed..." He stressed out that last word, causing the woman in gold plate to clench her fists as if she would rather be swinging them at his face. "That he was dead. Now I'm not the hardest worker in this city. In fact most prefer that I do much work at all. I have a very special role in this city, one that a lot of people may not appreciate. They call us interrogators now, but they used to call us something else..."

  "Torturers?" Banks guessed.

  "Correct," the man said. "Now..."

  "Yay I got it right," Banks said cutting him off, leading to silence.

  "Have you ever had your fingernails pulled off with a red hot set of pliers?" the man asked casually. "It's a rather sensitive area and if you keep talking like that I may just leave you without any at all. Do you understand?"

  "Do you have a hand fetish," Banks said calmly. "Look I came in here, because it was too much effort trying to fight my way out and go into hiding. I didn't come here for my hands to be fetishized."

  "Did you meet up with Trisk Trinorim," the Commander said, he forgot her name.

  "I have met up with him before," Banks said.

  "Truth," the man confirmed, giving him a look of scrutiny, as if trying to seize on any little chance he had to inflict terrible tortures on him.

  "Are you working with him?" she asked.

  "No," Banks stated firmly.

  "Also true," pencil moustache backed him up.

  "Why did you go confront him at the inn?" she asked.

  "I wanted to find out what he was doing," Banks admitted. "I didn't meet him there, but I met his underling who warned me away from further investigation. After considering the threats I decided to comply."

  "This underling, does he have a name, appearance..." she trailed off, leaving space for him to fill.

  "Mirror magic, can take the appearance of anybody in their line of sight," Banks stated. "Don't know if they have an actual appearance so far. Right, mirror magic can copy a person's appearance and spells up to a level. Can reflect attacks, can travel through mirrors and can shatter nearby objects like glass."

  "True," pencil moustache stated. "I've never heard of mirror magic. How did you hear about it?"

  "It's a lost magic. I'm an archeologist," Banks stated.

  "Mostly true," pencil moustache said, for the first time.

  "Entirely true," Banks stated. "Just because I don't have a fancy certificate doesn't mean that I can't dig into ancient ruins and maybe take a little treasure."

  "A graverobber then," the Commander said with a note of disdain.

  "No real difference," Banks said.

  "So as an 'archaeologist' what made you meet up with Trinorim?" the man asked. "Hoping to advertise your services, searching for treasure, wanting to join up with some like-minded individuals."

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  "Wanting to find out what the heck was going on in this city," Banks stated. "Ghosts, disease, riots and a whole lot more. These are not conducive to the running of a successful city. Quite frankly this was not the vacation I was promised."

  "You're quite flippant in your position," pencil moustache said.

  "And what position would that be," Banks stated leaning back in his chair.

  "As I said about three seconds away from losing all of your fingernails," he repeated causing Banks to sigh, as he examined the handcuffs around his wrists. They were doing a good job restricting the mana flow, but they were not quite perfect. Technically they should be custom built to restrain the prisoner perfectly and constantly stifle their mana flow. While his control was shot to hell he could still use a bit. Wordlessly two rhinestones appeared above his wrists causing the two to recoil and the commander to go for her sword before the two Rhinestones slammed down onto the table.

  "Here, you can have my hands and my fingernails, now can you stop with all the nail stuff," Banks said as he pushed his, now severed, hands forward with the stumps of his arms. "Oh sorry, may have damaged the cuffs." He crossed his arms provocatively before he frowned at the blood that he was getting all over his shirt, and tried to wipe it up with little success.

  "Oh, you're insane," the commander said, giving him a weird look.

  "Sanity is relative," Banks shot back. "I'm sorry, does this prison have like a dry cleaner or something. I think I've ruined my shirt."

  "You're quite confident to be confronting Trinorim directly," the man said. "Is it the same reason why you are confident with us."

  "You both lack the way to kill me in any way that matters," Banks said firmly waving his hand around sending splatters of blood on the table. "Go ahead and kill me if you want. It won't change anything in the long term."

  "And did you get any answers from him?" the Commander asked.

  "No I was threatened to keep out of it, and after some consideration I complied," Banks admitted.

  "So not afraid of death," the Commander stated. "Are you afraid of something else? Afraid of being restrained, maybe."

  "Why don't you try," Banks said provocatively, smiling before he blinked as a lightness briefly shot through his head. "Huh, I was drunk and now I'm bleeding out. Do you want to hurry with your questions."

  "Don't worry," the mans said as he reached over the table, grasping the stump and in a second, pain shot through his arms as the wound sealed itself closed and the foggy tiredness in his brain disappeared.

  "Bastard, now I'm sober," Banks said.

  "Was that whole talk just drunken rambling," the Commander asked the man next to her, giving him an appraising look.

  "He wasn't that drunk," the man confirmed. "Are you ready to answer our questions."

  "I've been answering your questions, douchebag," Banks said, irritation overcoming him. "I don't care enough about either you or Trinorim to lie. Ask away." While he promised not to look into it, he made no promise about keeping secrets. Furthermore they wouldn't even remember past this loop. The mirror man seemed indifferent to anybody else trying to figure out. Likely because without awareness of the time loop a person's failure would just repeat, he could tell them everything and they would just forget next time.

  "Why do you think the Emperor is dead," the Commander said.

  "I've seen his severed hand, and I spoke to the actual assassin who assisted in it," Banks admitted.

  "Could be any hand," the man played the devils advocate.

  "Signet ring," Banks just stated calmly. "I'm inclined to believe that it was his?"

  "What was the name of the assassin?" the Commander said. "Was he with the rebels?"

  "Ascrew and he's an assassin, not a rebel," Banks stated. "Trinorim struck the final blow according to him."

  "Do you think that was true?" pencil moustache said.

  "Why would he lie," Banks asked. "For a reduced sentence?" The thought was laughable. "Unfortunately, the worst option is the most likely. Ascrew and Trisk are two abnormally powerful magicians who slew the Undying Emperor." For a long period there was just silence before the man spoke again.

  "You said Trinorim is behind the ghosts as well?" he said.

  "I presume so," Banks admitted. "Does feel like something that he would be behind. But I can't confirm it because I was informed not to stick my nose any further into it."

  "Is there anything else that he might be behind," the man followed up as the Commander remained silent. "You mentioned disease."

  "Some people were infected by the Festering Stream, a god," Banks said, watching as the man's face barely flickered. "Could be a coincidence, could be part of the plan."

  "And this plan of theirs," pencil moustache said. "Any idea what it is?"

  "Nope," Banks said.

  "That's a lie," the pencil moustache man said leaning forward, his eyes sharp as he stared into Bank's own. "Do not lie to me again."

  "Scary," Banks stated expressionlessly. "If I was a gambling man then I would say that it would be to revive something from the dead. What with all the ghosts."

  "Is resurrection not impossible," the Commander spoke up. "I haven't heard of it ever being achieved in history, but I've heard of many failed attempts."

  "It's a common cautionary story in all cultures," Banks said. "It's meant to inure people to death and loss if you want my perspective. But you're right. Resurrection is usually temporary or doesn't end well or both."

  "Could he be attempting to resurrect his family," pencil moustache stated. "The Trinorim Roy___The former Trinorim Royal Family I mean."

  "Easy Blad, I'm not going to think you're a rebel," the Commander said shooting a look towards Banks. "I haven't got that paranoid yet."

  "Not a necromancer," Banks stated firmly. "No idea how resurrection works."

  "Really and after we found a ring dripping with necromantic energy in your possession," the Commander said. "We had to put that in quarantine so it wouldn't hurt the guards."

  "Oh, did anybody put it on?" he asked curiously.

  "Nobody is stupid enough to put on a dubious magical ring," the Commander stated, before sighing as she saw Bank's unchanging face. "I stopped them before anybody could put the ring on. Nevertheless it's in quarantine now. Even I can't get it back easily."

  "I'm holding it for a friend," Banks stated calmly.

  "Partially true," Pencil Moustache said. "You're holding it, but not for a friend."

  "Yup, that's correct," Banks said.

  "One last thing and then you will go back to your cell," the Commander stated. "You said that there was a hand of the Undying Emperor. Do you know why they cut off his hand and where it would be right now. Just to confirm your story."

  "There's a school/orphanage in the old part of town," Banks stated lazily. "It's turned into a ghost zone. If you go beneath the school, using a staircase in the principal's room, that's where they store the hand."

  "I'll send some people to check it out," the Commander said. "In the meantime rest up. We may have some further questions later. Do you..?" she paused before pointing towards her own hands.

  "Nah, it's fine," Banks said. "I wasn't using them anyway." He also didn't sever them very cleanly so it would be a pain to get them reattached. "They will grow back eventually."

  "Okay," the Commander said standing up from her chair and knocking on the sole door leading from the room, causing the door to enter and two burly looking guards enter. "Please take him back to the cell, he cut his own hands off. Yes, really there's no brutality on our part. Yes, I wouldn't believe me either. Just do as I say for now."

  "Yup, it was all me," Banks said as the two guards looking somewhat baffled picked him up from the chair, and gently dragged him to a cell.