As Jake let his chin drop and blood dribbled from the fresh hole in his head to the floor in front of him, Flint turned his fierce gaze to the still-screaming assassin. He could feel his knuckles snapping back into alignment, one by one, as he reached out and closed his hand around the alchemical device still strapped to the assassin’s head. He twisted it so the straps snapped free and then, with a little effort, he pulled the thing out of the man’s head. His screams faded into tongueless gibbering as freshets of blood ran down his cheek, and then his head lolled forward and he lost consciousness.

“Leave him,” Flint said at last, quietly, as the soldiers around them began to make motions to seize the half-elf. Flint was examining the device. “Tell the dwarves to repair the wall. Tell them I commend their work. You, return this to my cell.” He handed the device over to one of his soldiers.

As the soldiers cleared out of the room, Flint stepped between Jake and the chained assassin. The brute had his back to Jake, but the younger man raised his remaining eye to watch as the monster reached out with both hands. Flint’s back and shoulders flexed impressively outward as he squeezed his hands together on something in front of him. The assassin’s legs kicked feebly for the briefest moment amidst the wet sounds of crunching, crumbling bone, and then Flint shook the blood from both his hands. As he stepped away again, Jake could see that he had crushed the assassin’s skull to pulp between his palms.

“You did something...interesting,” Flint said at last, sighing. In stark contrast to his actions, his voice was soft. “I hope the cost proves worth it. Come on.”

Jake winced as Flint reached out and pulled him to his feet, holding him steady as the room wheeled sickeningly around them. He could feel the blood from Flint’s hand soaking into the material of his shirt at his upper back.

“Perhaps it’s best if you leave me out of this part of the story, when you’re relating it to Cronen.”