Mason stands over you, cold and unforgiving. His hand bloody, to match the skin of your back. You kneel before him, snivelling and trembling, terrified of his next move. Much to your surprise, he yanks his dagger from your shoulder, tossing it across the room. It falls by the door with a shrill clatter, taking more of your blood trailing with it. Go, William. You're excused. His words are few, but effective. You flinch, cowering small beneath him.