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A single, bare bulb was the only source of light in the sub-basement. It wasn't a large room, and the encroaching shadows made it feel even more claustrophobic. It was also almost completely empty. Its only notable feature was its grim centerpiece: a dead Imperial- long dead, judging by the smell- lying on a slab in the center of the room. Royal was unable to tear his eyes away. He had thought he would be ready for this, but now that he was here, he realized how wrong he had been. Memories of the battlefield came rushing back as he stared down at the dead Imperial. His hands were beginning to shake. His heart was beating faster in his chest. This was what he had asked for. This was what he wanted. He didn't want to call it off, but his fears would not allow him to remain silent. "I... Is it really alright for us to be... taking this?" Royal asked, struggling to keep his voice level. He tried not to breathe in if he could help it.
"It's my morgue! It's not like I plan on pressing charges," Tremain said, smiling widely. He was looking up at him wide-eyed, like a child seeking praise from a strict parent. "Now, I've only got the one right now, and that's our biggest hurdle. But I can keep it on ice until we get ahold of one more," He assured him.
Royal frowned. "Is ice going to be enough, doctor? Is it possible for you to get that much ice out here?" The Imperial on the slab was already quite rotten.
"I can pull a few strings! Now, you're the expert on these things, so I am going to be keeping you on call as a consultant."
Royal wasn't sure how much consulting Tremain was really going to have to do. He probably knew as much as Royal did. Possibly more, if his recent experiments had taught him anything.
"Yes, doctor. Of course. I would like to ask, though- how exactly do you plan on keeping the... beast under control? They are stronger than you might expect," He said. A mixed feeling of dread and excitement was building in the pit of his stomach. He was starting to feel a little lightheaded. Perhaps it was just the lack of air down here. Just how far underground were they? The stairs leading down here had seemed endless, but Royal had thought that was just because of the pain in his leg.
"Oh, I know! I've worked a few things out. The chains and sedatives should be enough to keep it under control, and if not, well, you saw that door on the way down here, didn't you?"
"Well, yes..." Royal thought it might not be better to ask what the original purpose of that blast door was. Maybe he had arrived just in time to prevent Tremain from doing something really stupid.
"And besides, it's not like I'm going to make a big one. We'll keep it as small as possible. Two Imperials. Three, tops. Barely an Emperor, really. It'll be fine!" Tremain said, busying himself with his notes. He'd been carrying a clipboard with him nonstop since Royal had arrived. What he was working on, Royal wasn't sure.
"You will be doing the world a great service. And you will be ridding my people of an ancient curse," Royal reminded himself.
"You really think it'll be all that?" Tremain asked, not looking up from his work. He looked completely absorbed in it, but Royal could detect a hint of pride in his voice, and a faint smile playing across his lips. He had never met a Shadowborn so easy to read.
Royal decided to give him what he wanted. "Yes, doctor. Of course."
Tremain, having successfully fished for his compliment, nodded and started back up the stairs. "Well, in that case, I'd better get to it. I'll see you once I have everything settled, okay?"
He didn't wait for an answer. Royal heard his light footsteps hurrying up the stairs. The heavy door scraped across the concrete floor and then slammed shut hard enough to send a shower of dust raining down from the ceiling. As the echoes faded and silence settled over the room, the air seemed to grow even thicker.
A few flies buzzed around the single light. The dead Imperial laid on its slab, motionless. Royal stayed behind and watched it anyway.