By the thirteenth hour every enforcer in Or had been summoned. Hyperion and Jorge emerged from the head enforcer's office into a hall now populated with men who had been called back. Hyperion's patience was a measure as quiet and implacable as his power; he wanted lists and answers more than spectacle.
"What I want you to do is; first of all, give me a list of all enforcers who you have inferenced to be more powerful than you," he said, the request plain. "After that, take a roll call and tell me all those who are missing and their excuses. That's not unreasonable, is it?"
Jorge replied without hesitation. "Certainly not. I'll get to it right away."
Two hours more passed while Jorge made his rounds and took notes. When at last he returned, paper in hand, the list was thick with absences and thin with good reasons. Ida watched the names with a mouth tilted in idle curiosity; Hyperion only traced one name with his thumb.
"Some of them are still going back home," Ida observed.
"Why not?" Hyperion replied. "They're not going to do anything just because they were called back. Plus, I don't need them right now," he stated.
"Crazy how only one person in this station is stronger than the fat man. Guess you've got a lot in you," Hyperion said as he pointed at Jorge. "Also crazy how he didn't come for the roll call and had no excuse, seems he might believe he's above all this."
Hyperion took the file Jorge offered him on the special absentee and read aloud the basic facts; "Luiz Chrysos, age thirty eight. Enrolled fifteen years ago and was transferred to Or after three years of service. Has an Or native wife and a ten year old daughter." He let the detail hang for a beat. "Guess he got busy fast."
This was precisely what Hyperion had wanted. He rose and offered a hand to Ida. "Come on, a journey," he said.
***
They walked to Luiz's bungalow; a small, respectable house with a well kept lawn and childish paintings pinned to the walls, evidence of the daughter Hyperion had read about. A woman opened the door; dark-skinned, with curls and a pair of kind green eyes.
"Anything I can help you with?" she asked.
"We are here to see a Mister Luiz," Hyperion said.
She closed the door briefly to fetch him. Luiz himself answered the second time; stocky, bald, and immediately guarded.
"What do you want?" he barked.
"We are huntsmen," Ida answered with practiced ease. "We came to help you guys with your infestation problem."
Luiz's expression shifted; he ushered them inside and led them to the dining room. The banality of the room contrasted sharply with the business at hand.
Hyperion and Ida sat. "Now, what infestation are you talking about?" Luiz asked.
Hyperion didn't bother with niceties. He spoke as a man who measured words by utility. "I know you've been fighting crime, or at least there's an inference you have. Your background kind of says it all; family man, has people to protect, but also strong and hasn't fled for some reason. You're torn between prioritising your family or your sense of justice.
These were all interesting insight into what kind of person you are, but that doesn't matter to me," he said as he sat straighter and placed his arms on the table. I'm here for information on Corvus Aurum, if I assume you're at least aware of that."
Luiz's cheeks tightened for a while, then his expression stiffened. "First of all, assuming I am what you say I am, why should I trust you?"
"Firstly," Hyperion said, "you basically just admitted it. Now for your question; because we're stronger than you and haven't killed you yet. That proves we aren't working with the Ravens. And two, you can't do anything on your own against the Raven, meaning giving us a shot is worth it."
Luiz rated the argument, saw its thin spots, and yet something about Hyperion's steady presence made him nod. "A lot of holes in your argument though," he muttered.
"Didn't really have time to think up valid points. I was hoping my kind face is enough," Hyperion replied with a light to e.
Luiz conceded. "Okay. I'll trust you. Please, follow me."
He led them to a shed at the back of the property. Inside, beneath the false floor and a rug, lay a door to a cramped basement. There, tied and bruised, was a man who trembled with terror.
"I don't know much about the Ravens," Luiz admitted as they descended. "But I managed to capture this man. He works for them."
Ida cut in politely. "Would you mind telling us your part before we move to the main dish?"
Luiz swallowed. "The Corvus Aurum is apparently a very large group. I don't have full details." He exhaled. "They came here about eight years ago. This town used to be rich in natural gold, but they began to rob the miners daily. Eventually the miners stopped going to the mines, so the Ravens changed tactics, kidnapping children and wives, demanding ransom in the form of service. Peace became something we had to buy with gold and labor."
Hyperion listened. Luiz's voice smoothed with the cadence of someone who had seen the slow drowning of a town. "The enforcers tried, until Head Enforcer Jorge became more active in our activities, dissuading patrols and eventually banning them. Soon Jorge admitted he was working with Corvus Aurum. Many in the force joined him or clammed up. I was outnumbered. So I left the force and tried fighting on my own. I didn't do much interrogating with this man; he was mostly an outlet for my frustration."
Hyperion's eyes sharpened. "So you beat him?"
"Not really," Luiz said, defensive. "I punch him and ask him what he knows."
Hyperion's brows rose into disbelief. "You don't actually torture him?" he barked. "Even children are resistant to punches these days. You didn't have any actual plan. Thankfully, I've come to help. How soundproof is this place?"
"Not at all," Luiz admitted.
Hyperion's disappointment was thinly veiled. He and Ida set to work with the grim efficiency of two people who knew precisely what they hoped to extract. They tightened the man's bindings, chose instruments from a cluttered bench, and arranged themselves so the basement's thin walls would carry only muffled noise outward.
Hyperion presented the grim options in a voice as dry as ledger entries. "I shall begin with your fingernails and toenails, then your head hair, then armpit hair, then the hair in your special place. If that is not enough, I might or might not flay you. All you need to know is you might or might not run out of life before I run out of methods, wink if you're ready to surrender. So try hard for the both of us, since your death won't benefit any of us."
***
Even gagged, the captive's screams from losing his nails pierced the basement; Hyperion had to add more cloth. He considered other choices briefly. Hair pulling, he decided, was too messy for his purposes today. He then moved to the next stage. He shone an intense beam of light into the man's eyes.
"Now, nod if you can still see."
Silence answered; the captive could not nod. Hyperion sat on a log nearby, voice even. "Are you ready to speak?"
The man, shuddering and panting, nodded as best he could. Hyperion removed the gag and warned him not to scream. He kept a clinical tone, even when the man admitted, "I surrendered after you took my fourth fingernail, but you didn't notice me wink."
Hyperion feigned contrition. "I'm sorry for that. You were just very loud and twitchy. I know recovery magic; I wanted to use it after the denailing was done. But I thought that you were a tough nut."
Ida's exasperated sigh broke the grim rhythm. Hyperion applied recovery magic to dull the worst of the pain and wiped the man's face with a rag. When they loosened his bonds, it was not out of mercy but practical necessity. The man needed to be coherent enough to lead them.
"Are you ready to tell us everything?" Hyperion asked.
"Yes," he replied