In a strange structure.

You find Uklag in what can only be described as a box. It stands twelve feet tall, and it's wooden walls produce an odd silhouette.

Stepping inside, you find the mage sitting on the foot of his bed, seemingly having heard your approach.

“Greetings, Uklag.” You says to the mage. “We have a plan.”

You relay your strategy to the warlock, and when you are finished, he speaks, clearly barely containing his mirth.

“A tunnel?” He laughs, standing up and grabbing his staff. “How very crude, but interesting nonetheless….I will need to prepare a tool for that, give me a few hours.” He gives Catherine a few commands, telling her to gather some materials, wood, stone, anything will do.

You mutter darkly to yourself at his mockery as his apprentice leaves to secure the resources he asked for. Once she is gone, you decide to take a risk.

“What do you know of demons?”

You can see from the look on his face that your question took him by surprise. He clearly didn't think you had any interest in their kind. He swiftly regains his composure, however.

“I have two fairly needy ones at home" He replies, then mutters something under his breath, with a quizzical expression on his sun-scorched face. You choose to ignore it.

“Let’s just say that, with the exception of alchemy, I know everything there is to know on magic.”

You are satisfied with he answer. You stroke your chin, thinking a moment, before gesturing for the mage to follow.

“Come with me, I have something to show you.”

You lead the curious warlock through your camp, eventually finding your way to the prison carriage.

Upon entering, Uklag seems surprised to see Xilyra there, though he does not speak. You gesture to the caged demon.

“This is Xilyra.”

“Xilyra, huh?” Uklag steps closer to the carriage and smiles mockingly. “One of the succubi sent to seduce enemy lieutenants during the breaking of Ushye. You should hold a lot of esteem in these lands…for a demon that is.” His smile fades slightly, and he reaches through the bars, grabbing hold of the magic collar around her neck. He stays like that a moment, closing his eyes, before suddenly recoiling, as if his hand had been bitten.

Your brow furrows, but you do not speak. You don't want to interfere in magical affairs.

Uklag looks to you, then his eyes snap back to the collar. He wears a look of avarice, then one of consternation, and finally one of resignation. He turns back to you, shrugging his shoulders.

“The collar is enchanted on a level similar to mine and a lot of time has been put into weaving those spells. Most of them lie dormant but I have no idea what they do.” His eyes find their way to the collar once more. “I also have no idea what that metal is. I hate that.” A moment later, and with visible effort, he turns his eyes back to you. “Well, what did you get me here for anyway?” He asks.

“I brought you here to ask you a favour. Despite my best efforts, Xilyra will not reveal her secrets to me. As a mage, you could enter her mind, **** her to tell me. Will you do this?” You ask, though you doubt he will agree. He ponders a moment.

“No. I will not. I don’t even know if I can with that weird-ass collar around. Not worth the risk.” He replies, exactly as you had expected.

“I understand, the request was not reasonable, but I had to try.’ You turn from Uklag to ponder the collar for a moment. “Is it truly so dangerous? I bought it in a shop for eight copper pieces.”

At that Uklag bursts into laughter.

“Wha-ha-hat?” he manages between fits of hysterics. “That’s some cosmic level of random. I don’t know if it is dangerous, just that it very well might be. Better not to take risks with unknown enchantments.” A few coughs later Uklag gets himself back under control. “If that is everything you want of me, I would get back to building that tunnel-making device.”

You nod. “Indeed, there is nothing else.”

The warlock turns and leaves, and you are left alone with your thoughts.

You still no nothing of Xilyra, save for her name, and what's more, the collar is apparently so strongly enchanted as to make a mage as cocksure as Uklag recoil in fear. You scratch your chin, grumbling. Why would Angela have an item like this collar, and what's more, why would she sell it to you.

You shake yourself out of your reverie. These worries are for later. Right now, you have a heist to prepare for.