"Yugoleth?" Marcus inquires without much interest. "Just another of the infinite variety of fiends out here in the wider world. Though I share your hope to not cross paths with such, I put no real faith in it. I feel that we -- all of us, perhaps even you -- are being drawn through this mad landscape by greater forces. I feel a pull toward a purpose but no clear vision." He turns to the mechanical man, wondering if such a creature can even begin to understand.<em>Has it a soul</em>?, he thought.<br/><br/>"You read my mood correctly, I think. It seems... provincial now to talk of such things, when the infinite planes stretch out around us. But at the time, before I was taken, it was paramount. My city-state, Bethos, was indeed at war. Had always been at war. Would always be at war. It was one of a dozen strongest powers with perhaps another three dozen minor pawns to be traded off among the major players. From time to time in our history a leader would arise. The greatest might unify half the world under their rule, for a time, until their death brought the inevitable return to chaos. My people say that the Gods are not entertained by a static chessboard. The pieces must be in motion, always, and if peace should raise its beatific head then Fate would surely cut it off."<br/><br/>"I cannot say for certain. I was not even a soldier, struggling directly against our ever-changing list of opponents. I was an executioner. A keeper of the Law. If we of Bethos could not impose order on the world around us, then by the Gods we would at least maintain it within our walls. Our city took pride in the calm surety of the Labyrinth and its incorruptible servants. No matter how our forces fared on the battlefield, we always had this. We always had the Law. Rewards and consequences. Punishment swift and certain. It was the rock upon which Bethos stood."<br/><br/>Marcus pauses, staring at the glyphs on the wall in the language of the giants, so strangely similar to his own race's tongue. They were evidence enough that these worlds were tied together. That Bethos, and the world around it, had never been as isolated as he would prefer.<br/><br/>"And then came Nemesil, who exposed our faith as a lie. Who sidestepped his punishment, not even giving his trial the respect of attentiveness. I know now that he was an outsider. Perhaps that puts him above our paltry laws. But if the Law means nothing, then upon what have we built? What makes Bethos better than Torgon, or Camatros, or Gungradin? Nothing? It is this enmity that I bring to bear against him, and in truth perhaps he deserves not the burden. Do we curse the sunlight that reveals flaws concealed by the night?"<br/><br/>"I must put my faith in Lord Damerrich, I think. He knows of this greater world, and his principles are unchanged for the knowledge thereof. What he teaches must remain constant, in Bethos or in this twisted plane. He would not teach us lessons without greater scope. I will take solace in his prayers and strive to divine the inner meaning." Marcus turns again to face the man-thing, its expression unreadable. "For if I lose this, then indeed I have nothing."<br/><br/>