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There was a hope that it wouldn't be the same 'man' that had almost brought about the end of the Automaton Master legacy. Through the blur of adrenaline and pain, Robert hadn't stopped to commit much to memory in the way of faces, forgetting all but one.
Shackled and hobbled, with ears like that of a bat, and a muzzle that looked worn of fur, he had his head bowed under the weight of the steel collar around his neck. But the moment he entered the Jarl's palace, Robert could see his nose start to work, and slowly, he lifted his head and those blank, white eyes went from an angry, disinterested slit to that of a predator finding quarry.
He was looking directly at Robert, he was sure of it.
"For the record, prisoner, please state your name."
"Victor Langstorm, sir,"