Dr. Ettinger's Home for the Mentally Infirm

Ettinger eyed Grandma cautiously, wondering what sort of game she was playing. She was teasing him, toying with him...but to what end? How much did she know? If rumors were to be believed, then the answer was "everything", but that was a very dangerous assumption to make. Still, it would be similarly foolish to assume the Imperial Vizier to be entirely ignorant. This was no social call, after all. Best to play it safe, then.

"From what I've heard of your reputation," he said, "I would hazard a guess that you're not here to inquire about the welfare of our patients. More than likely, this is some sort of follow-up with the Empress' visit a few days ago. Perhaps an inspection of sorts, to make sure I'm in compliance with her orders?"

He glanced between Grandma to the hooded inquisitors, still suspicious. What sort of mere inspection required the Imperial Vizier herself?

"I must say," he said, "If this is an inspection so soon after she gave the order, then I'm somewhat disappointed in the Empress' lack of faith in me."

So she was here on her own curiosity. That was definitely interesting, there was no doubt about that. It seemed as though she would be more receptive than the Empress had been...or perhaps she would tell Naoki everything she saw as soon as she left. However, something told him that she would exercise some amount of discretion. He eyed the glittering gemstones on her cane, wondering what sort of power she wielded. If the rumors were to be believed, the Inquisitors were simply for show. This woman needed no bodyguard.

"So," he said, "I see that you understand the necessity of progress. Make no mistake, I also want nothing more than the betterment of the Empire. Please, step right this way. I hope that our work here can impress you."

He stepped down the hall to a small staircase, and led Grandma down the steps to a basement deep below the floor of the institution. There would be no bear today, as they hadn't planned for a demonstration. Still, he was confident that someone like Grandma would not need such vulgar displays, like he had set up for the Empress. Stopping at an iron door, he paused, turning  back to Grandma.

"Right behind here," he said, "Is some of our finest work. I'll be glad to show you, but please, tell me...what happens after? How do I know that I won't get a letter from the Empress tomorrow, telling me that my entire facility has been shut down?"

Ettinger fought to maintain a straight face, to avoid showing his excitement. This was excellent news, exactly what he'd been needing. An outside benefactor, and one as powerful as Grandma, was just the sort of security he'd wanted. Even if the Empress wrote him off as a dangerous maniac, the Grand Vizier was a powerful ally indeed. This just meant that he had to impress her, but he was certain that a woman of her proclivities would find his little collection of creations to be very interesting indeed.

"I appreciate you taking such an interest in my work, ma'am," he said. "Right this way, please."

Opening the door, he led both Grandma and her Inquisitors inside and down a narrow hallway. After a twisting labyrinth of dreary passages and seemingly identical doors, the party entered a vast underground chamber with a vaulted ceiling. A series of small cages sat against one of the walls, each containing a six-legged, dog-sized creature. Each creature was completely hairless, with sickly white skin that seemed to glow in the dim light of the braziers. The creatures had prominent, pointed ears and large mouths filled with pointed teeth, but lacked eyes of any kind. Their six legs ended in what looked like four-fingered zygodactyl hands, each tipped with smooth black claws. The creatures snuffled and snarled as the group entered the room, pushing their faces up against the bars and sniffing loudly.

"We call these Gravehounds," said Ettinger, gesturing to the creatures. "Designed to track both man and beast to the end of the earth, these Gravehounds can smell a scrap of clothing and follow the scent to a body that's been in the ground for over six months, hence the name. They can track scents through water, through earth, through a burned-down village. They're also very obedient, and take to training well. They could track the smell of a single drop of blood in a spice market, and not get distracted once. Every one of our Gravehounds has been trained individually by our handlers, and will obey our directions to the death."

Ettinger watched as Grandma approached the cages, holding back a chuckle at the Inquisitors' reactions. Even the famed Isran Inquisitors were disgusted, appalled by what he'd created. What did they know, anyways? They'd be better off taking a cue from their employer, who seemed to have no qualms about getting up close and personal with the Gravehounds. As she unlocked the cage, he made a mental note to have one of his mages put some sort of ward on the locks to avoid such tricks in the future.

"I don't exaggerate when it comes to my work, ma'am," he said. "Please, feel free to take a look. If you'd like a demonstration of their abilities, I'm sure we can arrange something of the sort."

As the cage opened, the Gravehound scuttled out, its claws clicking sharply on the stone floor. As Grandma reached out her hand and snapped her fingers, the creature hissed and opened its mouth wide. Two black tongue-like appendages extended from within its gaping maw, reaching out to lick at Grandma's fingertips. 

"These Gravehounds are quite friendly," Ettinger continued. "Relatively speaking, of course. They're trained for searching and finding, although we're currently working on training a small group as guard dogs."

The hound gave a happy snuffle as Grandpa petted its head, and Ettinger nodded approvingly. He watched the inquisitors, noting that even they seemed uncomfortable with what their employer was doing. Was this mysterious Grandma always this unpredictable, or was she simply a frightening person to be around? Regardless, he gained some small amount of satisfaction at their disgust at the gravehounds. Even the elite inquisitors, it seemed, were uncomfortable around his creations.

He didn't blink as the foot splattered onto the floor, although he was a bit surprised at how quickly she'd been able to produce it. The blood pooling on the ground didn't bother him at all, it was far from the worst thing that had been cleaned off these floors. The gravehound bent down to sniff at it, freezing stock-still except for its nose and mouth. It smelled the foot carefully, muscles tensing, and reached out its two tongues to lick at the blood. Ettinger tapped it twice on the back, and it sat on the ground, facing towards his direction.

"Seek," he said. "Seek, and retrieve. Go now."

The gravehound rushed from the room, sprinting through the door and up the stairs. Ettinger watched it go for a moment, then turned back to Grandma.

"Mark my works, Vizier," he said. "You'll have your target here by the end of our tour. Sooner, depending on how far away it is. Now, please come this way. I have much to show you. Tell me, ma'am. What do you know of demonic possession?"