《Poisonous Fox》 Ingestion 1.1.1 I tasted motor oil. My face scraped against gravel, cold, dry, tasting like oil. I blinked. Bleary eyes. My nose pressed against the ground. Gray stones, black stains, a jumble filled my vision¨Cincluding what I thought might have been hair, if hair were purple. The hair concerned me the most. I had hazy nondescript feelings that I had awoken face down plenty of times before. But that hair, at least, what I assumed was hair, was a light purple. That was not the color my hair should have been. Why was my nose buried in someone else¡¯s hair, and where was the rest of this person? Horror slowly dawned on me. A creeping sensation, climbing up my spine, climbing much further than it should have. This¡­ this body¨Cfeels strange. It was akin to having nerves cramped and stretched, or an arm fallen asleep. It was improving, but not quickly. Painful. But I was no stranger to pain. It was just, I, when had I experienced pain before? My left forearm itched worse than a yeast infection. I scratched at it through my jacket¡¯s sleeve. My fingers scratched very well, so well, in fact, that they got caught in the leather. Odd. When my nails got stuck, there was a pulling sensation, then a sliding one. It persisted even before my nails should have touched the sleeve. I pulled up my right hand, inches from my face. Those were not my fingers. Those were not my nails. Lilac fur covered the back of my hand and fingers; my fingers were shorter than they should have been, by about an inch, but they ended in black claws that extended my fingers to about where they should have been, lengthwise. I rotated my hand, verifying that it was indeed my hand, that it was connected to my wrist, and that it obeyed my commands. Revulsion and nausea began to join the mounting horror. On the opposite side of my hand, the pad of my hand, it was bare of fur, but the skin was thick and rough. Oh no. That revulsion grew. I felt ill. But proper ladies never spoiled their appearances. No powder rooms available, I needed to keep it together. I smashed back those emotions. Logic. I needed to ascertain my situation. I wiggled my toes. They felt strange, very strange, but I could not bear to look. What has happened to me? The temptation to swear and curse and utter crude language rose up, but just as the revulsion, I ruthlessly crushed the urge. As I was taught, though I cannot remember my teacher, and as I was trained, though I cannot remember my trainer, I hold myself upright and bite back against these emotions. Physically biting down upon my tongue helps. My tongue felt longer and thinner. My teeth felt sharper and fewer. My nose was huge! I stared down at it. It extended far, too far in my vision. How could I ever learn to ignore this? It obstructed my sight. My horizon, the edge of my perception, had shrunk from the bottom, but expanded in other ways, towards the side, and forward. Sharper vision? But¡­ No. I squashed those feelings, repressed them, brutally. Facts only. My nose was a muzzle. Could I even speak? My tongue felt clumsy, the patterns of movement learned supposedly over years of adolescence now fail me. My muscle memory, corrupted. I tried working my tongue over and over, forming consonants and vowels. The itching, burning sensation of my left forearm worsened. The burn went deeper than skin, was spreading. I needed to check it, but¡­ but I was afraid. What other horrific change had been wrought? Shamefully, I ignored it. Instead I focused on speaking. Or rather, attempting to. ¡°Ga¨Cda¨Cgi¨Cir¨Cda¨Can¨Ctah¨Css¡­¡± I continued practicing, until finally I could utter a word. In English, I thought. Though I had no way to verify. After what felt like forever, all the while my left wrist burned and itched bone deep, I finally managed to almost speak the phrase that felt ingrained in my very soul. ¡°Goodah girlss donn¡¯t¨C¡± I nixed that attempt and tried once more, certain I could get it this time, ¡°good girlss donnnsswear¨C¡± I growled in frustration, and noticed that sound came far more naturally than regular speech, as though my body were that of some savage. Once more. ¡°Good girls donn sssweahr.¡± So close. Once more. Once more. Once more. Until finally, I succeeded. ¡°Good girls don¡¯t swear.¡± A small portion of pride filled me for succeeding, until I realized that uttering that phrase was such a trivial task, or should have been, that my pride turned to shame. To console myself, I reminded myself that I would only improve. This success merely proved that I could manage speech. Practice would make perfect. Anything less would be failure, and failure was always punished. But speech was only one method of communication. I needed alternatives. So I ran through a range of facial motions, which were not intuitive, not with this¡­ alternative face. I smiled, or tried to. The muscles stretched strangely, my lips pulled back and I felt air on my gums. I stopped smiling after that. It had been a false expression, anyhow. It was while I practiced expressions and speaking that I was interrupted. I realized, albeit lately, that I had never actually gotten to my feet, nor had I taken stock of my surroundings. Another failure. I would castigate myself later. ¡°Is someone there?¡± A man called out, his voice echoing strangely on the rocks. My slothfulness would be corrected now. I needed to gain my feet, to gain my bearings. From where I had been laying on my stomach, I rolled onto my back. My spine pinched oddly. My bodily control was not great. I could manage shakily, but I was far from graceful or dextrous. But I could worry about that later. I needed to assess my current situation. There was a man nearby. He could have been the one that had brought me here; or maybe he was a good samaritan; or a fellow victim¡­ too many unknowns. I needed to know more. I would exercise caution. Before I responded, I finally examined my surroundings. Canyon walls towered above me, blocking out most of the sky. The walls appeared natural, with many irregularities marring their surface. Pockmarks and black stains decorated them, proving a violent past. The canyon floor had perhaps been a streambed in ages gone, though now all I found were jagged rocks and packed gravel, along with patches of lichen. Whatever geological history had taken place here had been violent. It looked like it was long past. Or so I hoped. ¡°You don¡¯t need to be afraid,¡± the man continued, reminding me there was an unknown and potential threat nearby. ¡°Whoever you are, I mean you no harm.¡±" That is what someone who intended to harm me would say. My eyes landed on an odd yellowish oblong stone, longer than wide, with a bulbous end. Belatedly, I realized it was a bone. And now that I knew what to look for, I saw that the valley had been littered with them, though many had been ground down with the gravel. This location was not safe. ¡°I¡¯m going to approach,¡± the man said. With the echo, it was difficult to be certain, but I thought he was coming from the ¡®up-stream¡¯ direction, or from the incline. The canyon walls wrapped around there, for the streambed meandered. ¡°Again, I mean you no harm. But we need to level-set. Just an honest face-to-face dialogue.¡± I considered my options. I could try running, but my legs felt wobbly and I doubted my success. I could try hiding¨Cbut despite the fragmented ground, the rocks, and the irregular cliff walls, no hiding place would shelter me beyond a cursory examination. The third option was right out¨CI was in no state to climb these walls. That left my final option, the dialogue. I loathed the potential power imbalance, but my hand was forced. ¡°Who¨C¡± I croaked out, again adjusting to the new tongue and mouth ¡°-who are you?¡± ¡°Good! That¡¯s great. Introductions then,¡± the man said. He came around the corner and I finally got a good look at him. He wore an incredibly expensive suit, well cut, with a white silk shirt. A rich gold watch adorned his wrist. His shoes had been shined. Everything about him screamed wealth. That was, until I got to his face. I gasped instinctively before steeling myself. ¡°You¡­ are you alright?¡± I asked, allowing my thoughts free reign during my shock. He looked like a burn victim, his skin wrinkled, white and pink, with oozing cracks. It even had a certain aroma of rot. Then I realized I had been drawing attention to an unfavorable aspect of his, and thus generating unfavorable attention upon myself. I belatedly reprimanded myself. That had been foolish. I needed to recover. ¡°-I mean, yes. Introductions. My name is Jackylyn,¡± I said. I tried smiling as I sat up. He ignored my first comment and grinned. I felt my stomach turn when I saw his cheeks spread and the cracks began to gape. His teeth were pearly white at least. ¡°As I suggested, introductions then,¡± He said. His cheeks were sallow enough that his cheekbones were clearly visible through his ultra pale and thin skin. His eyes were blue orbs of luminescent light, giving the impression of flames within his occipital orbs. His lips were thin, his mouth wide, and his head bald. The only part of his head that failed to give the impression of a skeletal abomination was his ears, which were long and pointed. This man was not human. If he was even a man at all. But then again, someone might say the same of me. Being not human. I was never a man. At least not that I remembered. ¡°My name is Nick Delaney, former CFO of Balon Pharmaceuticals, and currently blessed by the entity self-described as the god of death, Thanatos.¡± He approached with his right hand outstretched, as though for a handshake. I eyed him suspiciously. I had to look up to see his face, he towered over me by several feet. I felt like a child beside him. He held his hand out for several seconds, his lips narrowing until almost invisible, before I finally decided it was no trick. I reached upward and shaked his hand. ¡°Jackylyn,¡± I said, ¡°but I go by Jack.¡± My tongue still felt strange, but my speech had improved drastically, far more quickly than I would have anticipated otherwise. ¡°Any chance you know where we are?¡± He looked around then shrugged. ¡°Not a clue. Thanatos dropped me off nearby. I take it you were dropped off by a purported deity sponsor as well?¡± I frowned, or I tried to anyway. My eyebrows lowered, and something on the top of my head shifted. I refused to dumbly repeat the word ''deity,¡¯ but my mind raced with potential meanings. I had no clue about any divine sponsor, but that did not mean I lacked one. But this man, Nick Delaney, apparently was claiming that a god of death was his sponsor. What did that mean? I doubted any divinities existed, and if they did, why would they deign to lower themselves to a mere mortal¡¯s level? In my experience, the powerful cared naught for the low and poor. In short, I decided the man must be delusional. But claiming that out loud could prove unproductive. No, I would keep these thoughts to myself. ¡°I don¡¯t know about any sponsor,¡± I answered after a pause. When I thought I saw judgment in his eyes, I hedged my answer with ¡°at least, not to my knowledge.¡± ¡°Hm.¡± He did not sound convinced, but he slightly nodded his head. ¡°You must be a local then? Some kind of beast?¡± Why would he¡­ ? No, that was just an offensive question. A slight rumble sounded from my throat, almost imperceptible. The top of my head shifted. ¡°I¡¯m human,¡± I answered, perhaps a tad more heatedly than I should have. ¡°If you say so,¡± he said with a skeletal smile. ¡°But that would mean that you are sponsored by a deity, even if you don¡¯t want to admit it. Which is fine¡­¡± He tricked me? I think he did. Or tried to. He played off of my own dissonance and bodily dysphoria with this horrible animal body that I had been shoved into. If I had been a human, like him, and then recruited by some ¡®deity¡¯ for some inane reason, then of course I would respond poorly to being called a beast. This proved that my suspicions were warranted¨Cthis man was clever, in a dangerous way. He continued, ¡°and I don¡¯t need to know. At least not yet. But if we¡¯re going to work together, we¡¯ll have to share details. But that would be later.¡± That was somewhat presumptuous of him. But if he planned on working with me, then it was likely he did not have any immediate malicious intentions for me. Unless he was bluffing, to get me to lower my guard. However, with the size difference, with him towering over me, I did not think that he required subterfuge to overpower me. It left me feeling vulnerable. This was a feeling that I instinctively loathed. ¡°Perhaps later then,¡± I said, agreeing with him while avoiding making any commitments. This avoided provoking him to violence, just in case. I could not afford a confrontation. Just then, something swished in my peripherals, it was lilac, it was bushy, and it matched the twitch that I felt in my spine. ¡°No¡­¡± I whispered. I felt that twitching on the top of my head, but that twitch felt like it came from my ears. Except it came from the top of my head. My ears should not have been there. A fresh wave of horror and nausea, even dread, washed over me. I wanted to cry, to scream. I wanted my body back. I tentatively reached up to the top of my head. I felt my ears. They rose a full hand above my head, maybe more. They were covered in fine felt, and the insides held fluff. My repressed emotions, the dam I had built keeping them them back broke. I heard myself uttering nonsense in a strange voice, repeating ¡°No no no¡­¡± dumbly. The dysphoria swept through me like a tsunami, collapsing my rational thought, forcing me to focus on all that was different and wrong. That thing, that horrid thing, swished again. I caught it in my hands. A tail! A mother-sworn tail. It was long enough that it could curl over the top of my head and cover my muzzle. And I had a muzzle. ¡°No!¡± I shouted. And ears! On top of my head. And long. Dear mother¡­ I refused to exist like this. I knew intellectually that I had always struggled against depression, that my¨Cmy sister! That she had always told me to keep living, at least for her. But¡­ she was not here. And this¡­ this was too much. Far too much. I could not stand this. I would not! I frantically checked my clothes. I still wore my leather jacket, I still had my cargo pants, and on my right thigh, strapped to the side, I still had my knife. I grabbed it, unsheathed it, and pulled my tail around with my left hand. ¡°Woah, hey!¡± Nick said, panic in his voice, holding his hands out flat. ¡°Calm down! We can work with this¨Cdon¡¯t¨C!¡± I brought my knife down towards the base of my tail and yanked it taut, feeling agony radiate up my spine before the metal¡¯s edge ever touched fur. Nick shouted and crashed into me, tackling me. My side hit the rocks littering the canyon floor, sharp and jagged pieces of flint, slate, or shale, with lichen only pretending to soften my landing. I wrestled for my knife; I needed to get rid of this¨Cthis thing hanging off me like a tumor. I needed to get Nick off me. I hated being touched. His weight pushed me down. His rough hands, long skeletal fingers, grasped around my wrists, bruising them. I could not be at his mercy! I would not! ¡°Get off!¡± I spat, wrestling to get my legs up and my feet against him so that I could push. ¡°Jesus, calm the fuck down!¡± He swore. His hips pushed down on me. No! No no no¨Cthe words blurred into a haze of fury and fear, a volatile soup, I lacked awareness to even know if I spoke them or not. I needed freedom. Even more than I needed to excise my flesh, I needed to not be held down by groping overweight¨C My jaws snapped shut, just barely missing his shoulder as he pulled back. Had I tried to bite him? My claws scratched air, his hands holding me at the wrists. His hips pushed against mine, trapping me between his weight and the edged rocks. I could not move. He was too strong. I could not¨C ¡°Breathe, dammit! I¡¯m not gonna hurt you. Just breathe!¡± A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°No!¡± I shouted, managing some coherence. I snapped my jaws again, but he kept too much distance between us. More words then. ¡°Get off! Get off get off get¨C¡± ¡°Alright! Just drop the fucking knife!¡± Knife! How could I forget that. Could I bring it to bear? No. It was worthless. Worse than worthless. My wrist was trapped, my hand, trapped. I lacked leverage or reach or strength or weight. ¡°Open your hand.¡± His tone firm, unyielding. Was that a threat? I could not tell. The implicit language, the underlying situation, was one of a threat. What options did I have? I could think of none. Words were my only way out. I focused, tried calming myself down by a force of will. I¡­ I was not as successful as I would have hoped. Akin to pulling oneself up by the bootstraps, akin to impossible. ¡°In, hold¡­ out. In. Hold. Out.¡± Nick mimed a fairly common breathing exercise. I found myself miming him, only realizing after the fact. Words then. ¡°If¡­ If I let go¨C?¡± ¡°Then yeah, I¡¯ll get up. Just don¡¯t hurt yourself.¡± This powerlessness was truly loathsome. ¡°Fine.¡± I spat. I opened my palm, and the knife clattered to the rocky ground. ¡°Get up.¡± He hesitated. I narrowed my eyes. Something within me bristled. This was it, this was where he would¨C ¡°Alright. Alright. Just let me help you up.¡± He rose to his feet, interrupting my spiraling expectations. He held out a palm to me. His foot just happened to rest on my knife, holding it against the ground. I still had claws. I had options. I could run. If I had to. I slapped his hand away and scrambled back, away from him, then up to my feet. I found a crouch almost natural to hold, but I refused to make myself even smaller than I needed, and I rose up to my full height. Still, my head only came up to Nick¡¯s mid-section. The man must have been a giant. Or I was just that short. Which brought me back full circle to dysmorphia. ¡°This body isn¡¯t mine,¡± I said, my tone a mixture of hissing and growling. It took practice to keep an understandable English tone. The man picked up what I was saying though. Or seemed to. ¡°It¡¯s not that different,¡± he said. ¡°Other than some hair¨C¡± ¡°-and the tail, ears, claws, muzzle.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Try focusing on the similarities. Two arms, legs. Eyes. You¡¯ll get over it, I¡¯m sure.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± but even as I said that, the urge to self harm passed. I was better than that. I had to be. However, I had a troubling thought: the strong treaded upon the weak. I had shown weakness with my recent lapse. He would be prone to take advantage of that. I needed a show of strength. So I added, ¡°But whatever. Give me my knife back.¡± He eyed me warily, at least so far as I could tell with those burning blue orbs and that horrifically wrinkled, oozing, and veined visage. ¡°You¡¯ll keep it sheathed?¡± ¡°If I feel like it. This gonna be a problem?¡± I asked, putting on the strongest front I could. It was almost like whiplash, first one way, then the other. If I was lucky, he would buy it. If not¡­ well, I would just have to convince him otherwise, and remain on guard. ¡°Alright, sure. Here.¡± He reached down and picked up my knife by the blade, handing it to me, handle first. I wrapped my hand around it, but for a second we both held it, and he almost refused to let go. My ears flattened. He snorted and released. ¡°Put it away then. Or don¡¯t.¡± I did resheathe the knife, but only because I needed my hands free just in case. I glared at him as I slid it back into its thigh holster. We remained like that for a minute. Him, watching me with what could be either humor or wariness, it was hard to tell. Me, with caution and suspicion. When it became clear the ball was in my field, and that he was not going to give up any further advantages, I spoke first. ¡°I apologize for that temporary bout of insanity. It¡¯s a lot to come to terms with so quickly, and you caught me at a volatile junction.¡± ¡°It was a bit of an overreaction,¡± Nick said, with what I thought might have been humor. Or so I hoped, because the alternative was worse. ¡°But then, I suppose those of weak minds, or those who¡¯re already mentally unstable, might struggle with the forced transition. It was a severe and notable event.¡± It was worse. He was mocking me. I grit my teeth and decided to ignore that condescending statement. He was right, at least partially. But I refused to be less than him. At least his body was mostly human. I had a mother-sworn tail! But I could find a way to restore my body. Without harming myself. I took a deep breath and released. I would overcome this. I would overcome. I repeated it over and over in my mind like a mantra. But something that Nick had said stuck with me. He implied this foul body of mine was a strength. I needed any advantage I could get. Even if it was through a body that left me feeling ill, that left me wanting to vomit. ¡°How?¡± I asked. ¡°Hm?¡± he asked. He looked me over carefully before releasing my wrists. ¡°How is this an advantage?¡± I clarified. ¡°Ah. Well, I know what you¡¯re going through. I¡¯m human too. Or was. But this new body of mine has its advantages. As an example.¡± ¡°Like what?¡± My voice still sounded so pathetic. I rubbed my eyes and found wet fur running along the side of my¨Cmy muzzle. ¡°Well I¡¯ve got two main advantages, though I¡¯ll only tell you one. I can sense life.¡± Why would a god of death offer him a body that lets him sense life? It seemed odd, but after thinking about it, I realized that in a way it also made sense. Afterall, only living things can die. I was curious what his second advantage was, and why he kept it secret. ¡°So for you,¡± he continued. ¡°You¡¯re some kind of fox creature, so I would think you have better senses as a start. Maybe other advantages, like speed, or dexterity. Though those advantages seem fairly tame. Of course, it could be that you look cute¨C¡± ¡°-I am not cute!¡± I interjected scathingly, even though I was still preoccupied with other worries. He continued as though I had remained silent, ¡°-and you should never underestimate the advantages offered by appearances.¡± I remained silent, continuing to cool off. Good girls neve swear, I told myself. Otherwise, I would have. Because due to my weakness, I had overreacted in an obvious way, one that forced Nick to intervene, one that let him put his grubby hands on me, which would be a horrible habit to perpetuate. And now he was talking about my body as though I were cute? Gag. I needed to steer this conversation towards something productive, something else. Before we lingered too long and he got even worse ideas, or his impression of me soured even further. ¡°Do you know why we¡¯re here?¡± I asked. It was an obvious question, with what I hoped was an obvious answer, which should be far, far away from how I looked. ¡°I have a few theories about why,¡± he said. ¡°But that¡¯s all they are. The better question to ask is ¡®how¡¯ we were put here.¡± ¡°Anything you can tell me is more than I know,¡± I said. ¡°Maybe,¡± he said with an apologetic shrug. ¡°It might¡­ no, I don¡¯t know how to say this in a way that won¡¯t knock you over the edge.¡± ¡°What?¡± I asked, no I demanded. If softly and politely. ¡°Well¡­ you¡¯re not exactly stable,¡± he said in a bland voice, as though commenting upon the weather. ¡°Tell me,¡± I demanded, more firmly. ¡°Can you handle it?¡± he asked, grinning. I hated that I showed him weakness. Now he was using it as leverage against me! I would need either suitable counter-leverage, or to leave his company. Seemingly, hopefully, unaware of my current considerations, he kept going. ¡°Or will you have another bout of temporary insanity?¡± I crossed my arms and gave him the business stare. He chuckled. ¡°Alright. We were both dead before we were brought here.¡± ¡°What? But¡­ no. That doesn¡¯t make sense.¡± How could we have been dead, if we were both currently alive? Madness. And he thought I had acted insane. ¡°Yes,¡± he insisted. ¡°While I can¡¯t say for sure that¡¯s what happened to you, I know that¡¯s what happened to me, and I believe it probably happened to you as well. Don¡¯t you remember?¡± ¡°No,¡± I shook my head while trying to quell the trembling within my limbs. ¡°That is¡­ impossible.¡± ¡°Again, I know what you¡¯re thinking. But consider this, before today, wouldn¡¯t you have thought it impossible to wake up in the wrong body?¡± I considered him carefully while I tried to think back to the last thing I remembered. The problem I had was that there seemed to be a veil of fog obscuring my memories. I got the jist of things, the vague outlines of feelings and people, but nothing I could concretely define. It was maddening, to have something that should be there, but that was not. I felt a wave of empathy for all those poor souls to have suffered dementia. At least, I assumed this was similar. However, despite all of this, I could not debunk Nick¡¯s claims. But nor could I confirm them. ¡°I struggle to believe this fact,¡± I finally said, deciding upon a plain strategy. ¡°The facts don¡¯t require your belief,¡± he mocked. ¡°But if you can¡¯t handle them, feel free to ignore them. It¡¯s not like it matters now. What matters now is what we do, and how we take advantage of our gifts.¡± I ignored him. I was still working over the facts. I could not remember much. Could he be correct? I was unable to disprove it. Did it matter? Yes, I would think it did matter, if I had died or not. But no matter how I thought of it, I kept coming back to this, again and again, like a sliver of popcorn stuck between my teeth. I needed to work this out. I could not proceed unless I did. I needed more knowledge. ¡°How did you die then?¡± I asked him, perhaps tactlessly. But I needed to know. To perhaps jog a memory loose. ¡°That¡¯s what you¡¯re still focusing on?¡± he asked, irritated with my question, it was clear on his tone, and the way he scowled with his inhuman fiery blue eyes. I nodded, refusing to back down. He needed to know I had a spine, that I would not just bow to his every whim. This would be a negotiation, even if the power imbalance tilted his way. For now. ¡°Not the gifts, not how we¡¯ll leverage them, now how we¡¯ll work our synergy and conquer this new world?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I said, then thought about it, realizing there was ambiguity in the response. ¡°I mean no,¡± I clarified. ¡°Tell me: How did you die?¡± ¡°I¡­¡± He broke eye contact. ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk about it.¡± He could have been faking his discomfort. But he might also be telling the truth. Afterall, if I had died, and I had been somehow reborn elsewhere, I might find it uncomfortable to dwell on my last moments as well. But at least he could remember. At least he knew what was happening. I would not allow him to downplay this. He brought it up in the first place, he had gotten me riled up; so he was now obligated to complete the conversation. Hence, the impasse. I stared up at his face. He gazed off to the side, at the cavern walls. Minutes passed. ¡°You¡¯re not going to let this go?¡± he asked. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Then, as a demonstration of trust, I¡¯ll tell you.¡± He finally relented. He sighed heavily, making his regret clear. ¡°I was sitting in at a Board Meeting, prepping for the Quarterly, when some sort of criminal¨Cwhat must have been a suicide bomber, or a terrorist¨C¡± he sputtered in rage and stumbled over his words ¡°-walks in and yells something. I remember the pressure, it must have been a bomb of some kind, and then nothing. Literally nothing. A void, nothing, complete sensory deprivation. Only me and myself. I don¡¯t know how long that lasted. But eventually, Thanatos recognized my value and pulled me out from the void and gave me a pitch. I accepted, and here I am.¡± He finished out of breath. His ultra thin skin appeared slightly flushed, though the blue veins spider webbing through his skin gave it a creepy vibe. It was the flushed skin that sold me on his story; anyone could lie, but only an expert could create that sort of emotional effect. I nodded slowly, seeking the correct words. Finally, I settled on a plain ¡°thank you for telling me.¡± I reached up to pat his shoulder. I almost failed to reach it. I loathed how short I felt compared to him. ¡°Right. So now, our gifts.¡± He unbuttoned his jacket and slipped his right arm out, before uncuffing his sleeve and pulling it up. He revealed a sprawling tattoo of glowing hieroglyphics on his arm. As I looked over them, I felt a headache begin to settle in, a mounting pressure just behind my eyes. ¡°That¡­ that is something. You did not strike me as the sort to get a tattoo, but I suppose I just met you.¡± ¡°You would¡¯ve been right,¡± he said. ¡°But this tattoo is the gift. I expect you to have one as well.¡± I felt moderately scandalized. ¡°I would never get a tattoo!¡± Mother would have killed me. ¡°My sympathies then,¡± he said with a hint of a smile. ¡°But please check. I believe you¡¯ll be somewhat surprised.¡± I narrowed my eyes; my ears flattened. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°When a god sends you here, you get these tattoos, and then it¡¯s like a¡­¡± he trailed off, a chagrined smile carrying as much boyish charm as an elf impersonating Skeletor could. ¡°Like a what?¡± I asked. I had been watching his face carefully the entire time. It was just such an alien contrast. He dressed and acted like the paradigm of a calloused self-centered john, but then he went and played coy. He shook his head and affected a smile. ¡°It¡¯s our connection to the divinity¨Cto their world, and it allows us to grow and develop ourselves, contingent upon our actions.¡± I resisted the temptation to huff. He made it sound like the tattoo would offer him even more power, besides what he had just by being wealthy. But of course, that was what the people on top wanted most: more. All the better to keep the rest of us on the ground. He never even mentioned why he needed more power. Just that he needed more. Typical. Avarice. My lip snarled upward. ¡°The tattoo¡¯s like a CV,¡± he said. If he noticed my expression, he failed to remark on it. Instead he continued excitedly, ¡°It¡¯s a record of our achievements and abilities. And since you¡¯re here with me now, I¡¯m willing to bet you have one too.¡± ¡°And if I don¡¯t?¡± ¡°Like I said, I bet you do. Otherwise, why else would you have been put here? It¡¯s clear this place isn¡¯t Earth, and that supernatural phenomenon has occurred.¡± ¡°You think I wouldn¡¯t remember getting a tattoo?¡± I asked. ¡°Do you remember growing a tail or ears?¡± He¡­ had a point. ¡°Just check already. I promise it will make sense when you do.¡± I consented. It would not harm me to check. I slipped out of my jacket. I caught him eyeing it. It was a nice jacket. Black with gray stripes, leather but not glossy, warm and waterproof, it had a hood and plenty of pockets. It might have been worn a bit around the elbows, and the zipper took some love to work, but it was mine. And it was a gift. I think. I could not exactly remember receiving it. Once the jacket came off though, I was just wearing my usual tank top. But something was missing. I was unable to put my finger on it exactly, but something was off. I would have to give myself a thorough review later. When I felt brave. In the meantime, I needed to check my forearms, where Nick¡¯s eyes had already settled. Ignoring the fact that fur now covered my skin, there were silver discolorations on each of my forearms. The discolorations showed through the fur, shone through it, as though the fur was no barrier at all. It took me a second to realize I was looking at tattoos. Fairly elaborate ones. Two of them. Those were new. ¡°You have two?!¡± he said, a mixture of shock and envy. ¡°You don¡¯t?¡± I asked. He shook his head, and tapped his left forearm again. ¡°Thanatos just gave me the one. Though maybe it¡¯s a case of quality over quantity. What do yours give you?¡± What do they do? What should tattoos do other than looking pretty? I guess they might be used for intimidation. ¡°First, how do I tell?¡± I asked. He stepped closer, entering my personal space. I would have had an issue, but his interest was locked on to my markings and not the rest of me. Actually, no. I did have an issue. He was in my personal space, and he was gross. Besides, who knew what information he could glean from looking over my markings. Maybe they had embarrassing facts, or my Social Security, or who knew what. I decided not to risk it, at least not without forcing Nick to put an equal amount of skin in the game. I pulled my arms out of view. ¡°How about you show me yours and tell me what they do, as an example.¡± He laughed and shook his head. ¡°You were something of a negotiator back home?¡± From what I could recall, perhaps I was. The term ¡®hustler¡¯ sounded familiar, not that he used it. Regardless of my recollections, I had no intention of engaging Nick on this topic. My past was my own, even if I lacked memories of it. He rolled his eyes when I refused to respond. ¡°Well alright. I¡¯ll be the bigger person here and start this off. But if we¡¯re going to work together, after I show you mine, then I need you to show me your marks. Sound good?¡± The way he finished that made it sound like he thought the deal was a foregone conclusion. In fact, he was already holding out his forearm with the tattoo for me to better inspect. I circled around to see it from his perspective. A warm wind blew down the ravine, smelling of diesel exhaust. It ruffled my hair and caused me to squint my eyes by reflex. The symbols on Nick¡¯s arm almost seemed to twist and churn as I watched them. Pressure built up behind my eyes. It was not solely the wind that caused me to squint. This tattoo was strange. On his arm, there was a circle with three branches, maybe trunks, sprouting off of it. In the center of the circle was a glyph resembling a skull, which likely tied back to Thanatos. From the trunks, three of them terminated in separate glyphs. I could almost understand them, but not quite. From the glyphs, each one of them had three dots placed equidistant around it. Two of those dots were almost imperceptible, so small and insignificant were they. The third was larger, and gave the impression of almost being ready to hatch. Another glyph, on a separate trunk, also had three dots, or rather, nodes, though two were imperceptible, and the third was a new branch that led to another glyph, with more dots. It was too much. It was just too much! With the twisting of the tattoo, either as an optical illusion or as a reality-bending effect, I could not focus. My own left forearm burned and itched, while my head throbbed. My eyes watered under the assault. My headache grew to a migraine. Inexplicably, I had a sensation of almost completion, as though I were just on the verge of a deeper understanding. Although, I did not know what understanding I quickly approached, nor did I know if that understanding was truly worth the pain. Just as I was about to turn away from the tattoo, it clicked. I understood. The tattoo translated itself for me. And now that I really looked at it, I saw that its layout was entirely sensible. Compact even. Some might say artistically efficient. I quickly scanned his markings. Blessed of Death Talents Spells Gifts ¡°Did you get something?¡± Nick asked. He was watching my face. I realized, belatedly, that my expression had changed when it snapped together. I thought about denying it, but realized it was probably unnecessary and counterproductive. ¡°You have a Spell called Claim Life, and a Gift called Amphorae?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m a little surprised you could read it, but apparently you can. You missed the open Talent slot though. If you¡¯ve got one like I do, then you need to be careful regarding your next actions.¡± ¡°Why?¡± I asked, thinking I was missing something here. So what if we had an Open Talent. What did that even mean? ¡°Thanatos mentioned that I would have enough experience to claim one Talent when I landed, but that it¡¯s contingent on actions I take. If we aren¡¯t careful, then we could unlock a Talent for something unhelpful. And since we only have three slots, that could be disastrous. That¡¯s why it¡¯s important to take control.¡± I could see how that would be a problem. But then again, it seemed like Nick and Thanatos had gotten fairly chummy. Nick had a lot of insight that I was missing. It was hard not to feel a little bit jealous of their good old boys club. ¡°Yeah. So, I showed you mine. Now show me what you have. Before I end up with a Talent for something like bartering.¡± Not that bartering would be useless, but if that was in comparison to Spells, then I could see how he might feel that way. But still, I saw no reason to reveal more than I had to. I attempted a diversion, to keep my secrets for just a little while longer. ¡°We should head out then,¡± I said, hoping to distract him. He scoffed. ¡°Nice try. If we¡¯ll work together, then we¡¯ll need a modicum of trust. Now I showed you my marks, and you were somehow able to comprehend them. So it¡¯s only fair you show me yours.¡± I narrowed my eyes and felt my ears flatten. But he was correct. I huffed and gave in, holding out my arms for him to inspect. And while I did, I turned my own comprehension on. I had two tattoos, one on each forearm. On my left, there was a spiral of three lines originating from a central hollow circle. On my right, there was a marking similar to what Nick had, though there were two differences: my circle was hollow, and my Spells were slotted with something differently. Blessed by ___ Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents Spells Gifts Ingestion 1.1.2 I had just shown Nick my marks. If he could read mine like I could read his, unknown. However, I hoped not. The mechanics governing these marks were strange; I decided to avoid guessing either way. While Nick purportedly received his singular tattoo from Thanatos, a god of death, mine were far more uncertain. While Nick had only a single tattoo on a single of his forearms, I had two, one for each. Comparing our markings, the largest difference was on my left forearm, the second tattoo, that tattoo that I interpreted as ¡®Blessings.¡¯ What Body, Mind, or Spirit did, Unknown. So many unknowns. Maddening. ¡°Interesting,¡± Nick said, sounding unhappy that I had two to his one. Knowing people, he would likely end up blaming me for having more than him. Before this could come back to bite me, I changed the subject. ¡°We both have Spells, it seems. How do we use them?¡± He shook his head, rebuffing my attempt at redirection. ¡°Are you really not going to tell me who gave you your marks? Why are you keeping it a secret? From anyone else, I would understand caution. But I showed you my godsmark. Right? Right?! I told you about Thanatos. It¡¯s only fair if you tell me.¡± He took a breath, as though to calm himself down. Then he added, ¡°trust, remember? Goes both ways.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I said, trying to sound as genuine and earnest as possible, doing all but batting my eyelashes. ¡°I just don¡¯t remember anything. This is frustrating for me too¡­ at least¨C¡± I switched to a slightly tremulous tone ¡°-at least you remember.¡± I finished on a weak note. My acting could use improvement. He only partially shifted stance. Though he did soften. Some. ¡°Amnesia?¡± he wondered. ¡°Maybe you were sponsored by a trickster god?¡± He shook his head, as though brushing it off. ¡°Either way, I suppose it doesn¡¯t matter right now. Though I think you might be the lucky one. Without your old life to hold you back, and with double the ¡®blessings¡¯ from whatever sponsor you have.¡± ¡°Me, the lucky one?¡± I asked. I tried arching an eyebrow, but the motion felt off. ¡°You¡¯re the one that knows who you are. Where you came from. How you got here. I have nothing.¡± ¡°Wrong,¡± he corrected. ¡°You have twice the blessings, with nothing holding you back.¡± I meant to chuckle, but the sound came out as more of a low pitched yip. Embarrassing. But I would not allow myself to get sidetracked. ¡°Memories are who we are. They cannot hold us back.¡± However, I realized something as I said this, and as I put myself in his shoes. ¡°But I find it interesting that you believe it to be the opposite. Just what exactly is it that you remember?¡± He grimaced. I knew it! ¡°Know what I think?¡± he said, more than asking, reverting to some of his previous hostility. ¡°I think that you and I both have pasts filled with ill deeds. Normal innocent people don¡¯t wear knives strapped to their thighs when they die. Normal innocent people wouldn¡¯t get plucked from the void by some god that¡¯s high on their own power. Normal innocent people don¡¯t get forced to take lopsided deals¡­¡± He paused to take a breath. He was getting flustered. Only, the blue and purple veins were spider webbing across his forehead and neck now, seemingly spreading. He continued. ¡°What I think, is that you and I? We aren¡¯t normal innocent people. I think that not remembering your life is a good thing. In fact, I¡¯m downright envious.¡± I licked my upper lip, running my tongue over it. My teeth scratched my tongue. I was still unused to the sensation. It felt positively monstrous. But that was besides the point. I gathered a breath and sighed loudly. I had no idea how to respond to this. But I needed to try, to say something. ¡°Do¡­¡± I started, then trailed off. He looked at me with something mixed with both misery and hopefulness. So I continued, ¡°do you want to talk about it, to get it off your chest? It sounds like you have a lot weighing you down.¡± ¡°That¡­¡± he paused, looking around and settling his eyes on a boulder. He moved to sit down, and patted the stone beside him, offering me a seat. I took him up on the offer to show my support. Though I was ready to spring to action if he double crossed me, and my knife was still in easy reach. ¡°That might help. But you need to understand, I served as a Chief Financial Officer for a very prestigious pharmaceutical umbrella company. We focused on making lives better, at least that was what we told ourselves. We made most of our profit off some big name brands, and by buying out a few patents.¡± I narrowed my eyes. The way he was talking, it sounded like there might have been regrets. Was this a ploy to gain sympathy, or were they real? Did that even matter, given where we were now? But if he was having regrets, then I had a sinking suspicion. A company would not make profit off buying a patent unless they forced other companies to pay a premium, thus raising the price for downstream consumers, or in this case, people that needed the medicine. And oftentimes, those people were not in the best financial position to pay that increase, especially if they lacked insurance. I could definitely see how he would have regrets for that, though empathy would be atypical for the usual corporate fat-cat. Still, I needed to know more. ¡°Which drugs did you make?¡± I asked. He broke eye contact and looked away. ¡°A few off-brand versions of pain relievers.¡± ¡°Which ones?¡± I asked, thinking that was rather mild for his reaction thus far. Though I wondered how I would recognize any of the drugs, given the state of the rest of my memories. His discomfort grew. He diverted. ¡°We also made insulin.¡± That last one sounded familiar, but I had trouble placing it. ¡°Is that a pain reliever then?¡± I asked. I knew it was not, at least, I thought it was not, judging by the context. He sighed a bit. ¡°No, those were fentanyl look-alikes.¡± My eyes narrowed. I did recognize that. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°Heroin?¡± I spat. ¡°No,¡± he said, sounding angry. ¡°That¡¯s only a rough analgesic. And consumers need a prescription for it; sure it might have similar characteristics to Heroin, but the drugs served a purpose. The market wouldn¡¯t be there otherwise. There were a lot of hurting patients that needed those drugs. We added value. If not from us, then someone else. Would you rather people hurt?¡± I was ranting all the while. ¡°A drug pusher on the street sells it, they get life. A big corp sells it, they get awards. Such¨C¡± I growled. I wanted to swear, but years of training caused me to refrain by reflex. Still, my speech cadence had been thrown off a bit. ¡°Will you let me finish?¡± he said, no, he demanded. I bit my tongue and repressed an almost growl. ¡°Like I mentioned, I convinced myself that the company¨Cthat we¨Cwere doing a good thing, while making profits for our shareholders. And arguably, we were succeeding.¡± I was skeptical, but I refrained from interrupting again. He took a deep breath and shuddered. ¡°We were prepping for our quarterly report to the commission, all of us were, Stan, the new CEO, all of us, and¨Cand¡­¡± he trailed off, a tremble to his hands as he covered his face and shook his head. I might not have liked him, but that did not mean I was without sympathy. Trauma was trauma¡­ regardless of who. Rushing him, pressuring him now, would do neither of us any favors. I was willing to wait while he had his moment. In fact, a small part of me was relating to him. I tried isolating that part of me, to figure out why. It was another one of those almost-memories. Yet, I was confident I had never been powerful. It did not feel fitting. But how did I know? Beyond these vague feelings? A part of me pondered this further, while only half listening to the man¡¯s soliloquy. He continued. ¡°We were meeting, and we all heard shouting from the outer hall. There were loud pops¨Cwhich I now realize was gunfire¨Cand a young disheveled man burst through the doors¡­ he was wounded, bleeding from a shoulder. He shouted something¨CI don¡¯t remember what¨Cthen¨Cthen he¨Cthe scum¨Che pressed something in his hand. I remember a loud pressure, and that was that¡­.¡± ¡°Then it was the void. I had died. And I kept thinking, over and over, all the people I hurt? That I deserved this. That I deserved worse. But just as suddenly as I was sitting there, I was suddenly not there. I know that doesn¡¯t make sense, but time, it doesn¡¯t make sense there. Yeah. And as soon as I had left that horrid horrid place, I was in a Grecian rip-off looking temple meeting some bigwig calling himself Thanatos.¡± He chuckled and shook his head. ¡°Dressed like the Grim Reaper. I thought it was my time for judgment, then and there. And it¡¯s strange, I understand the gist of what he and I talked about, but looking back at it, I cannot for the life¨Cunlife? Yeah, unlife of me, remember his exact words. Were I to hazard an educated guess, I think that space transcends mortal understanding. But what I do know is that he sent me here. What I don¡¯t know is why.¡± If Thanatos, a purported god of death, sent him, then that explains why he looks akin to Skeletor. But if that was the case, then the fact that I looked like a fox, did that mean some sort of fox-god sent me? It lacked cohesion. He might have had a few screws loose. Which was more likely, gods, or this guy was having a bad trap? But, I refused to alienate my only potential ally here. Especially when he could so easily overpower me. So diplomatically, I spoke, at least after he had stopped and began looking at me expectantly. ¡°That is a lot to process,¡± I said. ¡°But one thing I am struggling with: what are you, exactly?¡± He wheezed and laughed. ¡°All that, and that¡¯s what you ask?¡± I shuffled, embarrassed. The question might have lacked the tact I had originally thought it did. But it did take his mind off his sob story. So I guess it worked. I still hedged the previous faux pas a bit, explaining myself. ¡°Sorry. It¡¯s just¡­ I know I don¡¯t look the way I used to,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m still trying to make sense of it.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± he said, nodding. ¡°Well, I think I¡¯m some sort of revenant. Thanatos didn¡¯t exactly say. But whatever I am, I¡¯m here, and I feel better than ever.¡± He finished as he leapt to his feet. Are you ready to unlock a Talent?¡± I almost spoke out. Afterall, that mood change was sudden. But I was hardly one to judge; he and I had both been through severe alterations in personal circumstances. Besides, his mood might not be so ephemeral as it just appeared; he could have been faking good humor, following a similar tact as I would have in order to bury the unpleasantness. In addition, there was a far more interesting subject to discuss. ¡°How do you know which Talent to unlock?¡± I asked. ¡°And how would you unlock it?¡± ¡°Good question,¡± he said, giving me that skeletal smile of his. His teeth were a bit pointed, and there were too many of them in his smile. He lifted both arms over his head, striking a dramatic pose. ¡°As you can see, this world is not civilized. If we are to survive, we¡¯ll need to defend ourselves.¡± ¡°A survival skill then?¡± I asked. ¡°Or something that can hide us from enemies?¡± ¡°Hm¡­ maybe,¡± he said. ¡°But I believe, and I have learned this the hard way, that the best defense is always a strong offense. We cannot control where our enemies will strike, or when. But we can always attack first.¡± ¡°What enemies?¡± I had to ask. I glanced around nervously. Other than the wind and the rocks, and the occasional plume of exhaust, there was nobody nearby. Well, I supposed that there were bones littering the ground. But that was hardly conclusive of active hostilities. ¡°Oh, I have no doubts they¡¯re out there,¡± Nick said firmly. ¡°If you and I were dropped here with supernatural powers, then there must be others with powers as well. And if so, then there must, there absolutely must, be conflict. And even if these natives are peaceful, it would do us well to have a way to mitigate the risks.¡± I thought about it for a bit. He did have a point. And while I could think of other ways to mitigate that risk, as he put it, having a method of offense could likely go a long way towards guaranteeing safety. Besides all of that, I would lose nothing by following along and watching what happens. In fact, I would probably lose more from antagonizing him at this juncture. No, it was best to do it his way for now. If I found it disagreeable, then I could always escape later. ¡°Alright,¡± I said, climbing up to my feet to join him. ¡°What do we need to do?¡± ¡°As I mentioned, our marks act like a CV. They are a record of our actions. If we want a Talent to protect ourselves, then we need to actively defend ourselves.¡± ¡°You want us to fight each other?¡± I asked, worried that I would need to escape sooner rather than later. I had no intention of fighting Nick¨Chis size had already proved overwhelming. I would need to strike a debilitating blow and then flee. Preferably I could open and catch him by¨C ¡°What? No! No, of course not.¡± He answered quickly. ¡°For one, I doubt you could challenge me. For another, it would be too risky. I might hurt you, and then¡­¡± he trailed off, shook his head, and grinned. ¡°It¡¯s best if we find something we can both fight, together.¡± I did not trust him. He seemed entirely too focused on combat and fighting. And he had attacked me. And he could likely overpower me. All the more reason to abandon him the first chance I got. But then¡­ then I would be alone. And there were no guarantees I would find any other allies nearby. In fact, it might be other enemies I came across instead. For safety¡¯s sake, I followed along behind him. For now. Blessed by ___ Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents Spells Gifts Ingestion 1.1.3 We continued through the ravine, or better called perhaps a canyon, between two cliff walls. The space was narrow, and the cliffs formed of columnar basalt with several broken chunks occasionally providing ledges part way up. With the cliffs reaching at least a hundred feet upwards, the lighting was dim, and visibility somewhat compromised. Rather than attempt to climb, Nick chose the easier path, treading along the path at the bottom of the ravine. Naturally, I followed him. Better than leading the way into potentially dangerous terrain, certainly. And the terrain was dangerous, at least treacherous. The canyon floor was at an incline, and it was shadowed and dark. The path of the canyon was curved and meandering as well, which served as another difficulty for scouting. As we continued, Nick continued to express a keen interest in combating a monster or a foe. However, despite our grim surroundings, we had yet to find any monsters. But, if Nick was convinced we needed to fight, then I supposed I could go along with him, at least for a little bit longer. So long as he went first. And I had the option to flee. It occurred to me, that if we failed to come across a foe for Nick to fight, that he might turn on me as the next best thing. While that might have been unlikely, it still came as a possibility. One I very much wanted to avoid. To prevent this, I needed to demonstrate value to him. I considered different ways to provide this, and I finally settled on a possible solution. ¡°Let me see if I can climb the walls to get a vantage point,¡± I offered. If I could scout the way ahead, even by a fraction, then our passage would be safer. I would also measure how easily it would be to escape, should it be required. He nodded, though he never took his attention fully off what was ahead. I got a running start and jumped at the wall, grabbing some of the cracks in the stone and wedging a foot in. I managed to climb a few more feet before my wrists started aching, and my left tattoo burned just a bit. Startled, I jumped back down and landed in a crouch. ¡°Problem?¡± he asked, somewhat amused. ¡°Yeah, my tattoo flared up.¡± ¡°It changed?¡± he asked. I shrugged and decided to check. I pulled the arm back out of its sleeve. It was my left forearm, the tattoo with the ¡®Blessings,¡¯ Body, Mind, and Spirit. The spiral glyphs with Body had grown just a bit, almost a tick. As I read it, once again, I felt that alien interpretation slot into my brain. It was growing familiar. Body: 11 It had been ten the last time I saw it. I had gained one, just from that activity. If it kept rising like that, then I should be able to rack up the points easily. ¡°Well?¡± he asked impatiently. ¡°What changed?¡± ¡°My Body score went up by one.¡± He pursed his lips, likely from envy. ¡°That wasn¡¯t what I was asking. Did you see anything?¡± I shook my head. ¡°I was unable to get that great of a view. I could try again?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t bother, at least not yet,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m sure Thanatos wouldn¡¯t have put me down here if there wasn¡¯t anything to practice on¨C¡± his eyes lingered just a little too long upon me. ¡°Let¡¯s keep moving forward.¡± Not ten minutes later, we found the end of the canyon so to speak. Not that the canyon stopped, but that a small lake of black bubbling sludge stretched wall to wall, and went far too long for me to even consider climbing along the walls to skirt around. ¡°Dead end,¡± I said. ¡°Perhaps there are no monsters here.¡± I was getting ready to bolt, should he decide that I would be that hostile encounter. With his larger frame, I hoped he would struggle to navigate the cliffs. I just needed a head start. He scoffed, and muttered something that sounded like a curse word. But then he continued speaking. ¡°There¡¯s definitely something here. I have Life Sense, remember? And I feel something ahead.¡± He picked up a rock and tossed it into the pit. The rock sat on the surface where it landed, before slowly sinking downwards into the tar. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine anything¡­ lives in¡­ that,¡± I said. The fumes coming off the pit burned my nose and I could taste it fouling my tongue. ¡°Maybe,¡± he said. ¡°But I bet we can draw it out. Worst case, we waste some rocks and time.¡± He picked up another rock, and tossed it further out into the pit. ¡°That¡­¡± I trailed off. It just seemed unrealistic. If some monster lived down there, the worst case would actually be much much worse. Even if it was something besides a monster, most creatures responded poorly to people throwing rocks at them. But saying any of that would do me no favors. So instead, I finished saying, ¡°-that sounds reasonable.¡± As I said that, I took several steps back. ¡°I just¨C¡± he threw another stone in ¡°-have this feeling¨C¡± he picked up a particularly robust stone, lifted it over head, and threw it as far as he could into the tar pit ¡°-that I¡¯m meant to fight whatever¡¯s in there.¡± A few bubbles, smaller than the others, popped near where Nick was, maybe a yard off-shore. I took another step back. ¡°Uh¡­ Nick?¡± I prompted. He ignored me. ¡°It¡¯s hard to explain,¡± Nick said. And then he stopped. I supposed that he failed to consider me worth the hassle of an explanation. The bubbles were popping right at the shore now. A small tendril began growing up and out, dripping tar. Was that a tentacle? ¡°Finally,¡± he said, noticing the tendril reaching for him. ¡°Watch and learn¨C¡± and then in a moment of uncharacteristic wisdom, he added, ¡°-but be ready to step in to help.¡± ¡°Might be able to get a supporting Talent,¡± he added under his breath. Perhaps not wisdom then, but greed. He made space between him and the slimy black appendage as it gooped towards him, drawing it out further and further from the pit. When he made it about five feet away, the tendril was joined by a second. Without a physical weapon handy, he surveyed the ground around him, until he found a large stone. He walked over to pick it up, before making his way back towards the monster. A third tendril had joined the other two. A larger bubbling mass was rising up from the tar pit, about where the tendrils were rising from. I unsheathed my knife. It was a simple tactical blade I had picked up from¡­ somewhere. The blade had a serrated edge, a hook, and a sharp edge about as long as my hand. The bubbling mass continued to rise up from the tar. Its body was slimy and black and dripping animal remains, including what looked like humanoid dog bones, a nearly articulate skeleton held together by sinew and ligaments. The thing had to have been the size of a loveseat. At least. I was having some reservations about Nick¡¯s plan. ¡°This thing be a bit much,¡± I said, offering Nick a graceful way to back down from the fight. ¡°We can kite it along,¡± Nick said. ¡°This is a perfect opportunity. Don¡¯t go backing out now. We¡¯ve got this.¡± He tossed the heavy stone down at it while backstepping, to maintain distance. I kept at least twenty feet between me and it. I had no idea how fast this thing would be. I doubted that a slime monster would be fast, but then again, I really was lacking solid data on their normal behavior. The stone Nick threw hit the slime and sank in, seemingly causing no effect. Not even a ripple along the oozing atrocity¡¯s slick skin. The¨Cthe thing¨Ccontinued crawling its way out, carrying itself forward with tentacles. More than eight. It dragged itself forward. Throwing tentacles ahead of it, grabbing the ground, then pulling itself forward. Relentless, but fortunately slow. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know that we can fight this¨Cthis thing¨Cthis ooze,¡± I said, finally settling on something to call the thing. An ooze. It felt descriptive of it. A black tar ooze, about the size of a volkswagen. I wished Nick would get smart and back away from this thing. But he still acted with the false certainty that he could kill it. ¡°Granted, maybe not with rocks. But if it can¡¯t regenerate, we can whittle it down. Now how to use our spells¡­ ideas? Let¡¯s brainstorm this. No bad ideas.¡± Was he not taking the ooze monster seriously? For that matter, should we have maybe done that before we found the ooze? Regardless though, it was a good idea, and better late than never. ¡°You could try calling the spell out by name,¡± I offered tentatively. I was thinking of some form of colorful entertainment, or medium, but I had no exact memories to rely upon, just a fog of assorted feelings. It felt right though. ¡°That would be idiotic,¡± Nick said bluntly, crushing my idea. I meant, sure, it was a dumb idea. And now I was feeling a little defensive. ¡°It is only a suggestion,¡± I said. ¡°Well¡­ I might as well try it anyways,¡± he grumbled, before shouting and holding forth his hand, pointed towards the ooze. Grandly, he announced, ¡°Claim Life!¡± Something imperceptible streamed off of the ooze monster and flowed towards Nick. It almost looked like a mirage, or the pavement on a hot day. It lasted for several seconds before petering out to nothing. The ooze shivered, but otherwise appeared unaffected, continuing its trudge towards us, while we continued backing up the incline, away from the tar pit. He groaned. ¡°I cannot believe that worked. But now for the accounting and forecasting. That spell lasted for approximately five seconds,¡± Nick thought out loud. ¡°Not the best. But I assume it will get better with time. You should try your spell too.¡± I gave him a speculative look. I had one spell. One. I had never used magic before, I was still unsure that magic even existed. And even if it did, my sole spell was something titled ¡®Illusion.¡¯ While I was sure it would offer all sorts of great utility, but in regards to attacking a monster with it? I remained unsure. ¡°Well?¡± he asked. ¡°You¡¯ll have to try it out sometime. Might as well use the voluntary participant.¡± An interesting turn of words. I might not have considered the ooze to be a volunteer. But he was right about one thing, we did have a participant. It would be solid to get an idea on how my spell performed. It was just¡­ I did not know how to use it. Illusion seemed much more complicated than whatever Claim Life did. As I pondered, Nick took his eyes off the ooze to check on me. He smirked before turning his attention back on the monster crawling after us. Another tentacle had slapped onto the hill near us. We backed up. The ooze pulled itself forward, matching our leisurely retreat. ¡°It¡¯s not as easy, huh?¡± he asked, mocking my performance. ¡°Try focusing on something while saying the word.¡± That must have been what he did. This time, I tried holding the twisting turning glyph steady while I whispered, ¡°Illusion.¡± It popped out of me. What it was, unknown. I felt something flow. It lasted a few seconds, but then was gone. All too fast, and I was left feeling a bit out of it. It was hard to put my finger on, exactly. My nerves felt less than they were. The world felt less. It was not exactly my cup of tea, but I could probably see how someone would pay for that feeling. ¡°Was that it?¡± Nick asked. He was glancing my way again as he walked backwards, keeping distance from the ooze. Another tentacle came down, still feet away from us. The ooze continued to drag itself forward, leaving a slick trail of sludge in its wake. ¡°Didn¡¯t do much,¡± I said. ¡°And it felt weird.¡± ¡°Interesting¡­¡± Nick said, clearly thinking out loud again. ¡°You were surrounded with a haze for a bit there, almost a shadow. You have Illusion magic, so you need to focus on an effect. What do you want the world to see?¡± Since when was he an expert on magic, let alone my magic, which was different from his? But still, he might have a point. Illusion is a fairly broad term, and I felt the complexity behind just the glyph. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°Are you able to try again yet?¡± he asked. ¡°Or did you burn yourself out?¡± The feeling of deadened nerves had passed. I felt a bit recharged. Either that pool of mystic energy was tiny, or it refilled fast. Or maybe something else was going on entirely. I was no scientist. Once more, I focused on the rune, with the intent of creating something. But what? I wanted to damage the ooze, to contribute to the fight. But Illusion was not inherently capable of damage. I knew this instinctively, just like I could read the glyph. While I could not inflict direct damage though, I could convince entities that they were damaged, or trick them into damaging themselves. I was unsure if it would work on the ooze though. It did not look like that much of a thinker. In fact, I wondered if it even had eyes, or a brain. Regardless, I would try. Holding an image over the ooze, keeping it visualized, I once more whispered, ¡°Illusion.¡± A flame flickered to life over the ooze¡¯s trunk, near where several of its tendrils met the rest of its body. The flame was about the size of a basketball, but I felt that if it were closer that I could make it bigger. I was only able to keep it up for about five seconds before I once again exhausted myself. Not to be outdone, Nick joined in, ¡°Claim Life,¡± he said. Though notably, his chant had no effect. No heat haze stretched out from the ooze to him. His brows pinched together in irritation. ¡°Cooldown, maybe?¡± he thought out loud. ¡°But yours worked¡­¡± Once I finished, I felt a similar burn on my left arm, similar to when my Body increased. I rolled my arm out from my sleeve to check. Body: 11 Mind: 12 Spirit: 11 I had gained one more to both Mind and Spirit, for whatever that was worth. Nick turned to look at me, his brows pinched even tighter than before in a frown. ¡°Did something change?¡± he asked. He came over to peer down at my arm. I explained the stat difference as I put my arm back away. ¡°I think¡­¡± he trailed off as he tapped his foot and nodded to himself, ¡°that your second tattoo grows with you, and is likely improving whatever pool your magic draws from. Now the question is, how can I get one of¨C¡± All of a sudden, his eyes opened wide, before he glanced down at his legs. My own eyes tracked the movement, and I let out a horrified gasp. A black tendril had found its way around Nick¡¯s leg while he had been distracted. He had been mothersworn caught! ¡°Fuck,¡± he said. Trying to pull back. The ooze was stronger than it looked, the tendril not breaking or stretching. He ended in an awkward position, using his arms and remaining leg to try and get space, but the tendril held fast, and seemed to tighten. Smoke rose from the slacks where the ooze touched. We needed to get him free. I slammed my knife into the tendril. But while I moved, another tendril whipped forward, this one aimed at me. Just barely I leapt back, landing in a crouch. When it missed me, it carried on and slapped around Nick¡¯s leg, joining the first tendril. Where the black sludge touched his skin, smoke began pouring up, the cloth of his slacks blistered. My nostrils were assaulted by a horrendous smell, like a formaldehyde soaked steak barbequing on the grill. Nick cast, ¡°Claim Life!¡± Again and again, but it only worked once out of three tries. His fingernails tore on stones as he pried one loose and bashed his own leg, trying to smash the ooze off. But it only pressed the slime further into him. He screamed in pain. I dove back in, both hands wrapped around the hilt of my knife. My knife hit the sludge and sank into the first tendril. But rather than severing the appendage, the sludge flowed around the blade, rejoining itself. I slashed and swiped, a mad fury. The bulk of the ooze was coming closer, pulling itself along in an inevitable avalanche of tar. A third tendril shot forward, again aimed at me. I threw myself to the side, rolling over sharp stones and gravel. I felt a familiar burn on my left arm at the same time, not that I took the time to check. Body: 12 (+1) Every little bit helped, but now was not that time. I jumped up from my roll, and resurveyed the battle. The ooze was both dragging itself forward and Nick backwards. Nick had fallen onto his rear and was kicking and scrambling for any sort of weapon or foothold while chanting his spell. He found another rock, this one sharp and jagged flint, which he now brought down on his thigh, attempting to sever the limb. Rancid blood spilled out, smelling of rot. How he thought the stone could break through his femurs, I knew not. I doubted he was doing much thinking at all at that point though. I needed to do something, anything! Clearly he was out of ideas, if he was trying to cut his leg off with a rock. And the ooze was still climbing upwards, with another tendril smacking down on him, this time around his calf. More sizzling. More screaming. I gagged. But I had to press on! I threw rocks at the ooze, but just like when Nick had thrown them, they had no effect. ¡°C¡¯mon!¡± Nick shouted, ¡°Claim Life!¡± A haze almost flickered into life, but still nothing. ¡°Fuck! Throw me your knife!¡± No. My knife was mine. I felt an overly strong sense of attachment to it. It was mine. Not his. He could keep his flint rock. I would keep my knife. But there was no time to delve into the why¡¯s of my own psychosis. I needed to get him out. My spell? Yes¡­ my nerves had evened out, and I felt I had something more to give in that internal pool of energy. ¡°Illusion,¡± I shouted. Flames formed over the tendrils, nearest Nick. The ooze flinched and paused for a fraction of a second, but nothing else changed. ¡°Your knife!¡± he screamed. ¡°Get me your knife!¡± ¡°Use your spell!¡± I shouted in return; I absolutely did not give him my knife. There had to be something I could do besides throwing away my knife. It was literally my only weapon, unless I had something else hiding in my pockets. I gave myself a quick pat down. There was something in my inner lining. I felt at it before realizing it was just my lockpicks. And those, those I would not part with either. But why did I have those? Not the time. Nick let out another scream. Definitely not the time. A bit of haze finally kicked in as he got Claim Life to work. The ooze shivered and froze where it was. This was our chance. Before his spell finished, I jumped in with a slash at the tendrils holding him. The knife parted through one of them, causing the tendril to fall flaccid, severed in half. The fraction closest to the ooze began retracting into it. Nick¡¯s spell was still going strong. I swiped at the next tendril, there were two left to cut through. Nick shouted again, the heat haze dissipated. Another tendril shot out at me, grazing my tail as I twisted away. I felt a searing heat as the ooze ate through my tail fur and into my skin. Before it could form a better grip, I tore away and made some space, keeping Nick between me and the ooze. He was going to die. Mothersworn fool! This was all his fault. But¨C ¡°Fine! Take it!¡± I shouted, finally coming to a decision. I slapped the knife into Nick¡¯s hands. ¡°You better give it back!¡± ¡°Shi¨CFuaaa¨C¡± Nick Screamed in a high pitched wail. His slacks had completely dissolved, revealing dissolving flesh, blood and worse flowing out from the torn skin whenever the ooze lost a fractional grip. And as though that were not bad enough, black rotting veins seemed to be spreading up his legs from the wound, but veins that squirmed beneath his skin. He took the knife and bent double, sawing at the tendrils, scraping against his own bone through careless strokes, not that I blamed him. Meanwhile, I tried pulling him up and away. My left arm burned again. Body: 13 (+1) I looped my arms under his armpits and pulled him back for all I was worth, but the tendrils were far stronger than they should have been, and while I was able to pick him up, the tendrils had leashed him to the larger ooze. ¡°Thi¨Cthis hurts so fucking bad!¡± He shouted, continuing to stab at his own legs, harming himself just as much as the ooze was. By this point, his legs were trashed. But I could not just give up and allow my ally to perish. What else could I do? I had an idea, a foolish one perhaps, but it was the only thing I could think of. Focusing on my glyph, my tattoo, for the spell Illusion, and the effect I wanted¨Cno, that I needed¨Cto achieve. ¡°Illusion.¡± Mist coalesced into a form just before the ever encroaching pile of ooze. At first, I was unsure it was going to work. But I could still feel the energy flowing out from me. This had to work. The mist coalesced further, compressing into a humanoid form. The ooze paused. I could feel its attention begin to focus on my illusion. But no, it still was not enough. I needed it to do more, to be more! I pushed everything I had into this. I felt something give way, some intrinsic barrier that I had not even realized had been there, blocking my path. My left arm ached! Mind: 13 (+1) Spirit: 12 (+1) The mist coalesced further into a blob, not completely opaque, and barely a human shape. If a person squinted their eyes, and if they had cataracts, then perhaps the Illusion would be convincing. But still, it might be enough. I strained my focus as I moved it towards the ooze. Take the bait! I thought. The ooze paused for a split second, as though perceiving new prey. It sent a tendril exploring forward, towards the Illusion¡¯s trajectory. I pulled the Illusion back. It had no momentum and turned instantly, accelerating one way, then another. The only limitation it had was one of my mind. The ooze paused again, seemingly taking time to consider, to calculate. It must have realized that Nick had been maimed, that Nick would fail to remain aloof for long. But the new shadow was fresh prey, and the shadow hung just beyond tantalizing reach. The ooze sent more tendrils after the Illusion. I pulled it around, dancing between them. The last tendril holding Nick released in an effort to entrap the Illusion. Once the ooze had released the real Nick, I hastened to pull him back, further away from the ooze. My mystic pool was just about empty. The tendrils passed through and broke the Illusion just as it ran out of juice. During that time however, Nick and I had gained several yards. As I dragged him up the rough stone slope, he left a trail of blood and oil wherever his raw bones and calf muscles, scraps of sinew and skin really, touched against the ground. He was feverish. Delirious. He groaned from the pain. Sweat beaded on his forehead. ¡°Make it stop,¡± he groaned. ¡°Make it stop!¡± he cried. The ooze almost roared, except it sounded far more flatulent. It began pulling itself after us, easily following the trail Nick had left. I continued pulling us back. ¡°Stop!¡± he shouted. His eyes opened wide, they were almost all white. ¡°I¡¯m dying! Shit Fuck! It was not supposed to be this way! I was blessed by Thanatos himself!¡± ¡°We¡¯ll get through this,¡± I told him, trying to calm him down. Though he was probably right. The black veins had yet to abate, and I could even see them starting to climb up his neck. ¡°No no no!¡± He shouted, spittle flying from his mouth, rotten spittle, with little flecks of green in them. ¡°It¡¯s not fair, it¡¯s not right! I deserve this. I deserve it! Claim Life!¡± The haze once again formed around him. I expected that he was attempting to heal himself, to keep the worst of the venom, or whatever the fuck was eating him at bay. I expected that he would target the ooze, who was continuing to dog us, though we remained a safe distance away. What I did not expect, what caught me by surprise, was instead of the haze reaching out towards the ooze, it reached into me. I felt hot and cold and sweaty all over. He was casting his spell¨Con me?! The haze stretched from his chest to mine. He threw back his head in a pained moan, though perhaps less pained than before. I felt weaker, feverish, and I was forced to drop him or risk tumbling to the ground myself. Before my eyes, the veins stretching up his neck began to thin and retreat. But it was not enough. Or at least, I thought it was not enough. And apparently, he agreed. ¡°More. Need more!¡± He shouted. ¡°Mother take you!¡± I shouted at him, shoving him away. Or trying to. My limbs were weaker than before, and I had already been weaker than him. I stood no chance in a physical confrontation. ¡°I deserve to live!¡± he shouted back, spittle hitting my face. I had fallen back on my own backside, while he tumbled a little down the slope, dropping my knife in the process. His spell ended. My left arm continued to burn, it had never stopped. I seemed to be consistently increasing as my tattoo grew, but that was all at the back of my mind. Body: 14 (+1) Spirit: 13 (+1) I felt awful, weak, and in need of a nap, but this psychopath idiot of a man was scrambling for my knife that had fallen between us. I started reaching for it as well. It was a race of invalids. Him, suffering all manner of blood poisoning and wounds from the ever encroaching ooze. Me, suffering from whatever damage his spell had wrought. The knife had fallen closer to him, but I was faster. I was almost to it when his knuckles sealed around the hilt. ¡°I have worked so hard to get where I am!¡± he spat. ¡°I won¡¯t lose to some entitled brat. I will not die again. I refuse! Claim LIfe!¡± he shouted. The familiar haze started to form once again, stretching from him to me. ¡°Illusion,¡± I whispered, encasing his head in black fog, too thick to see through. Meanwhile, his spell, the haze, stretched out from his chest, towards where I was. Even if he could not see, he still knew where I had been just seconds before. I fell to my left, his Claim Life spell kept on track, passing through where I had been but no longer was. His spell hit nothing. ¡°Why¡¯m I not healing?!¡± he shouted. ¡°Why can¡¯t I see?!¡± The ooze finally caught up to us. I watched grimly as tendrils wrapped around his chest, sizzling through his silk dress shirt, beginning to eat into his shirt. I could only imagine how terrifying it would be, to be blinded, to have that acidic, caustic ooze beginning to eat through his chest. And the entire thing had been preventable! He had to go pick this fight. He had to act recklessly! Well, just because he would die, that did not mean that I would lose that which was mine. I dove in, clumsily, and grabbed his hand, peeling his knuckles loose from my knife. I caught it as it fell. I perhaps grabbed one other item from his wrist. ¡°N¨CArgh!¡± he screamed. My Illusion ended. He stared up at me, his eyes wide, fear somehow evident within those flaming blue orbs. His face a rictus of terror and pain. ¡°-help-¡± he cried. It was hard, but I deafened my ears to his cries. I scooted back from him, gaining elevation as I resheathed my knife. I watched grimly as the ooze pulled him backwards. He thrashed and struggled, but it was all to no avail. He begged for mercy. He cried. I could not help him. I would not, even if I could. His back hit the bulk of the ooze, and he began sinking into the ooze¡¯s flesh. Sizzling as it slimed up and burbled around him. ¡°N-noo¡­ I¡­ I don¡¯t¡­ no¡­¡± His face disappeared into the oozing bulk. The skin of my left arm felt too tight. Body: 15 (+1) Spirit: 14 (+1) But the pain was the least of my concerns. While Nick had asked for it, while he had turned his spell against me, wounded, weakened me¡­ he had just died. Hard. And had I acted differently, maybe that would have played out differently. It was not¡­ not a great feeling. Blessed by ___ Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents Spells Gifts Ingestion 1.1.4 Despite its meal, the ooze did not relent. It soon turned its attention towards me. It was not an obvious shift, as the ooze lacked the eyes or the expressions that I would normally read a person by. But it still made its interest known. A tendril stretched up from its bulk and circled the air, pointing in all directions until gradually it pointed towards me. I assumed it was scenting the air for prey. Regardless, when its tendrils began crawling up the slope towards me, and especially when it began dragging its bulk towards me, I was left without a shadow of a doubt that this thing was hoping for another meal. My right arm heated briefly, a tingle then a searing itch, and then the sensation ended. Regardless, I had larger worries. Obsession: 2/9 (+1) I scooted backwards, avoiding the nearest tendrils as they stretched along the ground. After seeing what happened to Nick, I was not about to go anywhere near this thing or take any chances. I picked my way up to my feet, still a little woozy and almost passing out from the quick change in blood pressure. Internally, and internally only, I cursed Nick. Why would he not have just listened to me in the first place?! Another sliming tendril slapped the rocks behind me. The ooze burbled over the ground, scraping loose stones along with its underbelly as it pulled. I stumbled further up the slope, matching its pace. My left arm was still burning as my tattoo updated itself. Body: 16 (+1) Spirit: 15 (+1) It must have been the aftereffects of Nick¡¯s spell. I almost stopped when I had a horrible thought. What if he was still draining my health? And what if he was still alive in that ooze, suffering as he drowned that caustic black goop? I shuddered. No one deserved that. Well, almost no one. I kept going, climbing up the slope of the canyon floor. At first I was keeping pace with the ooze, and then I was pulling ahead of it. It was gradual, but within a half hour I had shaken off most of the aftereffects of Nick¡¯s spell. When I looked behind me, I saw the black mass of slime continuing its slow inexorable trek towards me. At least I had managed to gain some distance, though I only managed to begin outpacing the ooze after we passed by back where Nick and I had started. Gradually, though I hoped it was just my imagination, the canyon walls began angling inward, narrowing in on the path. The columnar basalt walls were sheer and vertical with scant crevices for handholds. I began to worry. Though I had few options besides pushing forward and hoping for a better spot to climb. I continued going for what felt like hours. The sky darkened. The overcast sky never lessened, though the clouds grew bleaker and bleaker until hardly any light was present, except for orange glows coming from above and from the distance. Strangely, I could still see. Albeit, grayscale. I could determine the texture of the rocks I passed, and of the shadows within the walls. I thought loads of animals are nocturnal, so it might be possible that I could also see in the dark. Maybe. Not that I was an animal. But I did have a tail. Eventually I decided to catch my breath. The fatigue had been mounting. I leaned against one of the walls and slid down to the ground. My tail pinched from an awkward position. I growled, and I felt my ears twitch of their own volition. I wiggled around until I could pull my tail into the least uncomfortable spot I could find. I must have dozed off at some point in the night. A noxious scent woke me up. I heard the same burble. The ooze was nearby. I jolted to my feet. The ooze was crawling up the slope, scant yards away. Had I slept a few moments longer, it would have caught me. I wondered if I would have woken up at all, though considering how painful the wounds looked, I assumed so. I shuddered and picked up my pace, traveling further up the slope, regaining my lead. What had I been thinking, nodding off? I castigated myself. The walls were growing narrow enough that I could reach out and trail my fingers along either side at once. I had seen narrow alleyways, but not many. Somewhere behind me, that ooze was still following. I remembered seeing skeletons pressed against its skin. At the time, I had wondered how anything would manage to let itself get grabbed by such a slow moving predator, Nick excluded of course. But now, I was wondering if it was just because the ooze never gave up. But even then, would its prey not just keep moving? How could it hope to catch anything, except from persistence? These questions had been building as I traveled, and I soon found the answer. The canyon came to a dead end. The canyon floor sloped up at a quick incline that turned into a near vertical surface of loose stone and shale. I tried picking my way up it, but the stones soon slid out from under me, sending me tumbling all the way back to the base. I tried several more times, walking along the side of a wall, crouching on all fours, and at one point, I did reach the solid wall on top of the scramble. But I still had a long climb to go to reach the top, and I knew that the ooze would soon arrive. I craned my neck and tried to chart the best course to take. Because sitting around and waiting was not going to end pleasantly. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. And so, I began to climb. I wedged my fingers into the sharp cracks of the wall, and pulled myself up, kicking against the wall until I could find a hold. My other hand quested higher, above me, searching for the next crack. I repeated, shaking off my free hand to get rid of the painful tingles and cramps. By the time I had climbed up ten feet, I had broken out into a sweat. By the time I had gone fifteen feet, I had begun trembling. Craning my neck, I tried counting the number of feet left to go. Far too many. I regretted that I was unable to fly. Flying would have been cool¨Cuseful, I meant. Instead I had Illusion powers. Which I was sure would be useful¡­ assuming I survived this. At twenty feet, I was out of breath and had to take a breath. Notably, I had yet to feel the burning skin stretching sensation that normally occurred when I received points to any of the three Blessings: Body, Mind, or Spirit. I had to wonder why. Now would be a great time for some magical assistance. While I was catching my breath, which is partially misleading as I still felt incredible strain and tension in my forearms from maintaining my grips, and my fingers numbing from the lack of blood flow, but still sore from the cramped nerves somehow, that I heard a familiar gurgle. I groaned. And for some reason, I just had to check. I just had to look. Down below, approaching the bend of the canyon, was the familiar ooze. It still followed my trail. It threw its tendrils forward, and dragged its bulk across the floor, leaving the gross trail of oil in its wake. I really hoped that its bulk was too heavy to climb. But just to be careful, I finished my break and began climbing once more. When I was twenty five feet up, the ooze made it to the base of the scramble below me. At thirty feet, the ooze crawled its way up the scramble to wait directly below me. Its tendrils quested after me, passing over the path that I had taken upward. Its tendrils continued rising up and up, similar to watching mold grow, except all at once. Its body thinned as its mass pressed against the walls in tendrils. That seemed to answer my question with a very concerning answer. I needed to climb faster. I picked up the pace. My left hand stretched up and over, feeling for a knob or wrinkle in the stone. I found a mini ledge. I clamped my fingers around it, feeling my nails dig just slightly into the rough material, my joints straining. I walked my right leg up, finding a toe hold, my toes digging in. I pulled myself up. My right hand releases, questing up and over my left, finding another wrinkle in the stone. My fingernails scrabbled and clawed their way in until I had a weight bearing grip. My left leg next. I repeated. All the while, my fingers found the process easier and easier. I failed to notice the peculiarity at first. It was not until I felt a burning sensation on my right arm, from the tattoo stretching and growing under my skin, that I realized that my fingers really should not have been able to dig into stone. Talent Tree Unlocked: Athleticism (1/9): Climbing (1/9) The surprise almost caused me to lose my grip right when I was between handholds. For a fraction of a second, my arms pinwheeled as my upper body began to pull away, pivoting at my feet. The ooze hungrily awaited me down below where it had been following me up the wall. I had no doubt that if the ooze failed to catch me that the fall would kill me. Only sharp stones awaited me below. But then, a new well of knowledge rose up from the corner of my mind where the invasive knowledge arose from. Suddenly, I knew what to do, what my new capabilities were, and how to twist about my center of mass to salvage my fall. It all made sense, but it was risky. In fact, it was completely bizarre what this new knowledge, what this muscle memory demanded that I do. But while all of this was flashing through my mind, while I continued to fall backwards, one thing was clear. Inaction would result in death. So really, what did I have to lose? I kicked away from the wall, from my last point of contact with the solid surface, while tucking my upper body inwards, in an almost summersault. With the centrifugal momentum, I grabbed on to the wall, making my own handholds. My fingers sunk into the stone, just enough to grant me a grip, molding the surface under my palm. It was surprisingly comfortable. Once my hands were locked in, I let my lower body swing back down, carried by gravity, until my toes were once again pressed against and partially into the surface. The ooze had been closing the gap between us, and now there were only ten feet between me and its nearest tendril. But with my newfound knowledge and supernatural ability, I began scurrying up the wall, regaining the distance. I marveled at this. Before, I had grown tired, and I had struggled to find hand grips; my muscles had trembled; my joints had strained. But now? Now, I made my own hand grips when there were none, and I had an instinctive knowledge of where to find the best grips, and how to position my hands and arms for the greatest leverage. It felt so natural, that I even wondered why climbing was ever so difficult to begin with. Granted, I now seemed to have a supernatural ability to grip the surface of the canyon wall, but even beside that, it was just¡­ easy. After finding my pace, soon I was crossing the fifty foot threshold, then the hundred foot threshold. I lost count of the distance eventually, but it must have been hundreds of yards by the time I reached the top. When I pulled myself over the edge of the canyon wall, which was a sharp corner, I sat down, my legs dangling over the side, my loathsome tail catching the wind, and I peered back down. I was far enough up, the canyon was narrow enough and twisted enough, that I could no longer see the ground below. The ooze had disappeared at some point, unable to grow up the side of the wall as quickly as I could climb. The last I had seen of it, however, it was still trucking right along. I had little doubt that it was still following my trail. My ears sought its burble, but I could hear little else over the wind that whistled through my ears. The only thing I heard besides wind was what could have been an eerie laughter upon the wind. I assumed this was only my imagination. While I rested, I took in my surroundings. Despite my climb up, the edge of the canyon was by no means an apex, nor a vista. My range of vision was limited by the jagged peaks that surrounded me. There was no distant horizon to see: only shattered stone and broken mountains. There were no trees, no grass, no water: there were stunted bushes, lichen, twisted remnants of stone that might have been trees, and billowing columns of black smoke that kissed the clouds. I could not describe my location as a valley, although it was a depression between at least five different peaks of various heights. The wind blew, hot, sulfuric, and dry. What a wretched place. My stomach grumbled. My throat parched. My skin dry. my lips chaffed. And I had a burning throbbing sensation from each of my tattoos, where I had recently had updates. While I sat there, I pulled off my jacket and reviewed all that changed, including my newest Talent. Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.2.1 I knew I had made a mistake. Relaxing at the top of the cliff, catching my breath, my lackadaisical behavior, all of it, it had all been a mistake. And for one single reason: the ooze creature could climb. I had known it could climb. I had known it. And yet, I had still chosen to rest at the top of the cliff, with my feet dangling, allowing the wind to ruffle my hair and¡­ fur. I peered over the edge, past my bare and monstrous feet¨Cignoring that twinge of dysphoria and disgust. Shoving all of that aside, I watched for my obsessive hunter. It was just coming into view. About ten feet below me, there was a horizontal spanning shelf that protruded outwards from the face of the cliff. This protrusion obstructed my vision of the cliff below that, and much of the canyon floor. The gurgling mass of black sludge brought a tendril up and over that protrusion, before slapping the tendril against the cliff, somehow sticking to the solid basalt. Soon, another tendril slapped upwards, then another. The bulk of the ooze climbed up those tendrils, until most of its mass sat above the shelf. Then more tendrils were launched. Ever upwards, ever towards me. Question raced through my mind: Why was this thing still pursuing me? Why had it not returned to its tar pit? Had it not gorged itself already? But regardless of my disbelief, the ooze was still pursing, and it had already amply demonstrated its penchant for human flesh. I felt another twinge of dysphoria, but I smashed it down. I could worry about that later. For now, I should avoid getting eaten. I scooted back from the edge and stood up, patting myself down. I had my jacket, my tools, my cargo pants and my belt. My knife sat strapped to a thigh. My pants¡¯ pocket had a slight bulge. I took just a second to admire its contents: a golden wristwatch with a crystal face. It could be worth a pretty penny. If I found a fence. Or I could keep it as a memento of Nick. I would probably sell it. I just needed to find civilization first. Another survey of my surroundings. The sky appeared nearly black from the overcast. Plumes of smoke rose from several points in the distance. Craggy rocks and hillsides pretended to be shattered mountains, and of course, the canyon I had just climbed up from. Sadly, I could see no signs of civilization, no buildings nor roads. It was just me and the ooze and the rock gardens leftover from ancient lava flows. And I needed to pick a direction to head. All of them looked equally unwelcoming. What did I know? I needed to head away from the ooze: that part was easy. But if I used that as my sole determination, that alone would fail me. What I needed was to figure out where I was, to catch my bearings, to learn the lay of the land, so to speak. What I needed was a vista. This meant I needed height, I needed to climb until I had a better view. Mind: 14 (+1) So I set out for one of the nearest broken mountain tops and put my new climbing skills to use. Over the next hour, I traversed scrambles of shattered rock and climbed uneven cliff sides. The most treacherous were the scrambles resting atop the cliffs, as the scrambles offered little footing, and the cliff offered a deadly fall. As I went, I felt what was becoming a familiar pain. My left arm stung as the tattoo grew. As the lines swirled outwards in a spiral from the central glyph. The physical activity was improving my body, far faster than was natural. Ordinarily, rest and recovery were required. It seemed that this dubious marking helped speed up that process, preternaturally. But whatever magic the tattoo provided, it failed to fill my bell, or wet my lips. I would need supplies, even if my body was improving. Body: 18 (+2) After what felt like too long, I arrived at a local peak. Down below, I saw the ooze burbling along, chasing after my trail. That creature continued to surpass my expectations. Of note, the ooze¡¯s trail appeared as a slight sheen, almost a slug trail, but oily and black. At least I could tell where it had been. From the vista, I found no evidence of people, nor of any past civilizations. I saw no ruins, nor highways, nor even litter. So far as I could determine, this desolate waste of a barren nightmare contained solely myself and the ooze. My stomach rumbled, and my mouth tasted like sand. What could I eat? The rocks grew lichen, and I had seen several unappetizing snails, with thorny shells and a sulphuric scent. There might have been larger animals in the ecosystem, but I had only heard chittering and scraping rocks as I had traveled. I did not know this ecosystem. However, if there was animal life, then there was food, water. Which I needed to find. And badly. I also needed shelter, or would, assuming I could lose the ooze. Even though I had this mysterious magic-seeming effects, I doubted it would grant my survival against the elements. Or perhaps it would. I knew too little about it to make a decision, but I could not rely on that chance alone. Mind: 15 (+1) In the distance I could still see the plumes of smoke. There were several on the horizon, in different directions. Without a better direction, and with a possibility that a civilization was creating the smoke, I selected the nearest plume and set out once more. I kept to the ridgelines as I traveled, maintaining an even elevation as much as I could in order to reduce the strain on my tired muscles. I slipped and misstepped a few times, at first, until I learned to keep my footing on the uneven ground. Sometimes, I traveled on the top of the ridge, admiring the bleakness of the terrain, enjoying the wind ruffling my fur¨Chair. Sometimes, I traveled on the hillside, watching for loose pieces of slate that would slide out from under me, practicing my balance. Body: 20 (+2) All that time while traveling, I began to think about tools. A good thief knows their tools, just like any other crafts-master. I might not remember much, but I did know that much. And since I had arrived wherever I was, I had been given a few new tools, along with some extra, even if it all was unwanted and foreign and why could my body not be normal?! I cleared my head, or tried to. I tried to remember what I had been thinking about. Right. Tools. One of those tools had a lot of potential, but it was going to take practice before I could slot it into my repertoire. So I got to practicing. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°Illusion.¡± I had spoken with the intention to wrap myself in invisibility. And yet, little more than nothing happened. A bit of a haze enveloped me, but otherwise, nothing. I could still make use of an obscuring aura; I held the haze in place for as long as I could. I counted off fifteen seconds before I ran out of energy. Immediately after the spell broke, I tried again. ¡°Illusion.¡± But this time, nothing happened, except a slight headache and a general feeling of weakness. This caused me to pause and consider that I had perhaps some nature of forced cooldown period. However, the duration failed to be obvious. Mind: 16 (+1) Spirit: 16 (+1) I waited a minute and tried again. ¡°Illusion.¡± This time, while I saw the haze envelope me, I held my hand out before my face to better examine it. I could still see my hand, but there was a bit of opaqueness in the air immediately surrounding my skin. Around a bit over fifteen seconds later, the spell ended. But this time, I felt the burn on my left forearm. Spirit: 17 (+1) I rolled back my sleeve to check, and found that several of my Blessings had increased. Including Spirit. While unsure of what caused each of these types to increase, I felt especially confused by Spirit. Body made sense in its own way. Exercise and strain the body, increase the relevant statistics. Mind almost made sense: exercise the brain and increase the statistic. Although this one felt somewhat insulting, judging by what the tattoo considered to be heavy thinking versus not thinking at all. And then there were other irregularities, on top of that. Once it had increased when I had just been listening to sounds and trying to hone in on the chittering I could hear occasionally beneath rocks. But Spirit¡­ what even was that? I grew curious how the increased Spirit would affect my spell; I repeated the same exact experiment again. The difference was subtle, easily mistaken, and without a stopwatch, my observations were prone to error. But it felt like the spell had lasted longer. I continued repeating the same experiment,, over and over again as I walked. I drove my energy pool to empty each time, waited a minute, and tried again. Soon, I felt that burn on my left forearm once more. Mind: 17 (+1) Spirit: 18 (+1) I had gained another point to both Spirit and Mind. I had been rewarded for my efforts. This could prove addicting. But first and foremost, I needed to master my tools, I needed to understand my Illusions and their capacity. Originally, my spell lasted fifteen-ish seconds before exhaustion. But now, it lasted longer, at least seventeen seconds, maybe more. But the problem was, I had gained points to both Mind and Spirit, which prevented mapping an exact correlation between the statistics and the spell¡¯s effects. But a correlation did seem to be there. An increase to those points led to an increase to my Illusions. Either in duration or in ease of creation. My next series of experiments was to figure out how long my cooldown period was. This was the time period after my Illusion exhausted itself. A period where I was unable to re-create the Illusion. To measure this, I would run my Illusion out, exhausting its full duration. Then, I would time it. Not until how long I could cast the Illusion again. Oh no, because I could cast again, after the short bout of fatigue ended. As soon as five seconds later, I could cast. But the problem was that those immediate re-casts had a far shorter duration than a regular casting. So clearly they were not the same, and I needed to understand this mechanic. So after each Illusion exhaustion, I would wait. I started at a minute. Casted Illusion once more, timed it, and found the duration unaffected. Which was good, it meant that my Illusions reset in a minute or less. But¡­ but it might be less than that minute, and I needed to know the minimum amount of time I would need to wait after exhausting an Illusion before I could recast a full Illusion. On the next exhaustion, I only waited fifty seconds, and found there to be no detrimental effect to the Illusion¡¯s duration. Then I did the same, but with forty seconds, and I found the same. It was not until I reached around twenty seconds that I began to feel a difference. At ten seconds, my Illusion¡¯s duration reduced to ten seconds. At five seconds, I could maintain my Illusion for five seconds. At one, for one. At zero, a headache. Trying to recast my Illusion immediately after exhausting an Illusion, akin to smashing a button, left me with a physical headache. And not because my ¡®Mind¡¯ was improving. Though it did. Mind: 18 (+1) Spirit: 20 (+2) One of the other benefits to the experimentation: I had a better understanding of the process governing my most potent tool. What I thought of as my cooldown was not actually a cooldown. Instead, it was my energy pool refilling. Furthermore, my energy pool refilled as fast as it spent. It was one to one, which was¡­ odd. Then again, all of this was strange and odd. But back to my tools. I could make myself a blur, which I mentally slotted as [Blur]. It was not a hard spell, but it made it easier for me to cast that particular Illusion, just by thinking of it as one. Of course, one spell was not enough. I needed more patterns. I went on to brainstorming others. Illusion just had so much versatility. If I had this power back in the day¡­ I actually failed to remember exactly what I had done, or how I would have used it, but I was certain I would have. It would have been useful. I needed more. More spells. More Illusions. So while I continued walking along the ridgeline, approaching a broken peak in the distance, and the orange glow beyond that, I tried creating other objects, like a flame. I had made one earlier against the ooze, but now that I had time, I wanted to learn as much as I could. I made a ball of fire about the size of a fist, and I sent it out as far as I could. Moving it required a force of will, and I felt a headache begin to form at the base of my skull, a building pressure. Mind: 19 (+1) Spirit: 21 (+1) But the technique worked, if lazily. The [Flame] pattern was created, if sluggishly. I was able to create a flame in my hand and move it, playfully raising it up and down, making it dance and spin and circle me in the air, until my ¡®energy¡¯ ran out. I repeated it again and again, moving it faster and faster, increasing the potency of the spell, sharpening my mind. Idly, I wondered how far I could send it away from me. I sent it out and forward. It expired before I hit a range limitation. [Flame] still was too slow. I kept practicing until the flame moved about a yard a second. Mind: 20 (+1) Spirit: 22 (+1) I found a limit at around ten yards, where the flame could move no further. It felt as though it were restrained by a taut leash connecting back to me. During my trials, I felt that familiar ache on my left arm. I had never enjoyed the pain from getting tattoos, at least I thought so. But now, now that it marked progress? I was growing to enjoy the pain. During this time, I made another mistake. I had lost myself in practice, in thought. I had zoned out. I had failed to pay attention to potential threats. Of course, I only realized this when I heard a laugh. It was not a nice laugh. It was closer to a shrill bark, a chuckling, high pitched, yipping cackle. And it sounded like it was coming from more than one place. There were several of them. They were close. I should have heard them approach! How did they find me? Where were they? My ears swiveled to find them. Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.2.2 The yipping and cackling, the almost but not quite laughter, it was approaching. From where I was, just to the left of the ridge of a long craggy hill, I tried tracking the sources. From behind me, to the left, which meant on the same side of the hill as I was. I crouched down in a futile and too-late effort to hide. Wishful thinking. I had never been accused of optimism before, I doubted I would be starting that now. Of course they had seen me. Whatever they were. My foes were moving fast, low to the ground. Humanoids, crouched low, gray fur, black spots, ridged backs, animal ears, and yellow eyes. Their snouts were directed towards me, their maws laid their sharp and mangled teeth bare. The creatures were naked, clawed, and there were at least three of them. Hyenas. Their laughter reminded me of that, of hyenas. A vague memory of animated creatures surfaced, that crudely resembled these creatures. And I needed a way to refer to them. I decided to refer to them as gnolls. And given the drool hanging down their muzzles and plastering the sides of their necks, these gnolls looked hungry. I began sprinting towards the broken mountain up ahead, ignoring the itch from my left arm. I needed to escape. Body: 21 (+1) As I ran, I had to watch my step. My balance was off, thanks to my non-standard and very non-wanted body additions. Rocks slid down the slope; I heard the gnolls gaining. Sharp rocks cut the pads of my feet. Why did I not have shoes? I lamented. Their footfalls kicked loose just as much loose shale. Motherswear it! They were fast! I pushed myself harder. The broken mountain up ahead was getting closer¨Cmaybe two hundred yards out. Crossing across the ridge, I began angling down the opposite side of the hill, towards a steep cliff face where the mountain met the hillside. Their laughing barks pursued me and the gnolls closed the gap between us. I stumbled on the loose slate, sliding down the slope at an angle, but kept my momentum. The rocks keep tumbling below me, forming a mini rock slide. And through it all, my left arm hurt. Body: 22 (+1) The gnolls crested the top, bark-yip-laughing; one of them followed the ridge to try and get ahead to cut me off; the other two almost frolicked down the slope, chasing after me like it was some sort of game. And to them perhaps it was. But not to me. I pumped my arms as fast as I could, ducking low, keeping my center of mass lower to help with my footing. Almost to the cliff. Just a little bit further. One of the gnolls behind me leapt. The slate slid out from beneath it as it pushed off. The sound of stone slipping on stone was the only warning I had. Mind: 21 (+1) I dodged right, tumbling further down the slope in a mess of loose stone. The gnoll flipped past where I had been. The other two gnolls laughed at it as they continued to pursue. This was my chance to escape: I refused to be caught. I used my hands and legs and scrambled forward; I expected the posture to be awkward, but instead, the posture is stable and more agile than running on two legs. Perhaps not all of my new physiology was unwelcome. Running on all fours, I kept just ahead of them, but only just. I needed more space! The gnoll following the top of the ridgeline reached the mountain first before me. The gnoll that had slipped down the slope was trying to cut me off from the right. The gnoll directly behind me brushed against my tail; an electric and unwelcome sensation ran up my spine and left my ears erect. I did not like that. Not one bit. I yelped. The sound had burst out from me at the contact. The sound high-pitched and keen and irregular. Deal with it later! They were within inches, practically upon me. ¡°Illusion.¡± I mouth the word, as all my available lung space is going towards breathing as I envisioned [Flame]. A fire appeared before me at eye level and I ran through it, holding it in place as it passed through the back of my head. I could no longer see it, but I could hold it in position. The gnoll behind me yipped in panic; it scrambled to the right and slipped down the slope, losing its footing. I reached the face of the mountain, a steep, nearly vertical cliff. I turned my sprint into a jump and I latched onto the side of it. I began to scurry up. The gnolls below screamed up in their shrill voices. One of them threw a rock at me as I climbed. It¨Cno his¨Caim was not good. The rock pinged off the cliff several feet to the side from my hand. The gnolls had yet to try climbing. Were they unable to, I wondered? They kept throwing rocks. One hit the back of my knee. It stung, but lacked the force to bring me down. If they hit my hand, at the wrong time, it could have been a different story. I kept climbing. Putting distance between us, worsening their aim. One of them jumped at the cliff face below me. They scrambled up a yard before they began slipping and sliding back down. When they hit the hill below, they continued tumbling, their momentum carrying them to the bottom of the hill. The last gnoll, who had used the ridgeline to attempt flanking me, gave up throwing rocks and began circling the mountain, looking for another way up. Considering the wide and broken nature of the mountain, I expected that the gnoll would find one. The gnoll gave a keening cry, and the other two stopped in their tracks and began bounding after the first. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Within minutes, I reached the top of the cliff face and crawled the rest of the way up the slope. Body: 23 (+1) Athleticism: Climbing: 2/9 (+1) I had lost sight of the gnolls, but I was sure they would reach the plateau top soon. Calling the top of the mountain a plateau was a little misleading. So was calling the mountain a mountain. It might have classified as an ultra-large hill. Fifty stories high at the most. The plateau was hardly what one would call flat, or level. The entire thing was at a slant, where loose boulders and canyons formed moles and wrinkles across its face. It would be taxing to cross, but I figured this could be a good thing: plenty of places to hide. I had no experience with dodging pursuers in the great outdoors. But I knew the basics, and those applied the same everywhere. First, I made sure line of sight had broken. With the gnolls down at the bottom, and me at the top, that should have been the case. But to avoid making a poor assumption, I found an oversized erudite boulder to slip behind. Second, I traveled as quickly as I could perpendicular to that boulder, to keep it between me and where the gnolls might have been. Of course, as I gained distance, that boulder lost its efficacy, which forced me to find another barrier. Fortunately there were many potential candidates. I gained plenty of distance, and had found myself towards the middle of the plateau, when I heard the gnolls once more. They called to each other in that yip-cackle of theirs, from multiple points behind me. They had fanned out in their search for me. Sensible of them, unfortunate for me. I needed to hide. Nothing drew the eye like movement. I found an indentation in the ground, almost a culvert, or a ditch, although I doubted it had ever drained anything, and I ducked down into it. Crouching, I ran along, sheltered from view. Unless they were in the small canyon with me, they could not have seen me. But the barking laughter was still approaching. How could they have found me, I wondered. But if they were approaching, then I needed to settle in. Up ahead, I saw a further indentation, or a deeper branch coming off the culvert. I crouch-ran and dove in. Mind: 22 (+1) Body: 24 (+1) I had time before they would come anywhere close. My ears kept me abreast of them. I had to trust that my enhanced hearing would detect them before they came within sight range. So, with that time, and in preparation, I practiced a new Illusion. I used the base form of [Blur], but attempted to match the coloration with the gray stone and deep shadows, as well as thickening the opacity. Holding the intended effect in mind started difficult, but each successive casting improved the ease. This pattern, I thoughtfully labeled [Chameleon]. I felt that familiar ache on my left arm. And also surprisingly, my right. Mind: 23 (+1) Spirit: 23 (+1) Illusion: 2/9 (+1) The gnolls continued their approach and they were coming in far too direct. They had to have had a general idea of my location. Soon came their shuffling steps as they pawed across the stone. ¡°Illusion,¡± I mouthed. [Chameleon] slid into place. The nearest gnoll bark-growled. At first, I struggled to understand the purpose of alerting prey by making so much noise. Perhaps they were attempting to flush me out. But when I heard a responding bark, I began to pick up on a few patterns to their guttural sounds. Belatedly, I realized that these gnolls could speak. Although it was not a language I had ever even imagined hearing before, so crude did it sound, almost Germanic. Listening to it left me with a headache, worse than when I had experimented with Illusions. My skull felt too confining for my brain, if just so. Naturally, my left arm ached. Mind: 24 (+1) They continued barking back and forth. I could pick up more and more of their constants and vowels. Listening must have been working, or at least doing something meaningful, as my left arm continued to itch and burn, and my head continued to ache. Mind: 25 (+1) The first one sniffed loudly. I might not be able to see them, but they were less than a few yards away, in the culvert where I had been running. Like lightning, it struck me. They had been following my scent. Failing to consider the possibility made another error on my part. A grievous error. Of course the dog people could follow my scent. They were animals. Contemptuous. However, they still had not found me. My Illusion continued to hold. They continued barking in their guttural language. They were practically upon me. I refused to move, to make any sound; my breathing came as faint as I could make it. I tried calming my thundering heart, lest they hear it. My energy had almost expired. My Illusion would soon fade. If they then glanced upon me, I would be in a poor position. I had my knife. I could attack. If I distracted them with an Illusion, and then struck, I might succeed. But they were sapient. They had a language. I was not a violent person in the first place, and murder had never sat well with me. I had no desire to see them dead, at least not by my hands. They shuffled further along the culvert. Just as they progressed a bit beyond where I had run, my Illusion gave way. I bit my lip and begged whatever purported god that had allegedly sent me here that the gnolls would keep on walking. My arm burned. Mind: 26 (+1) Spirit: 24 (+1) They paused. They barked at each other. One of them gave another sniff. I still could not see them from where I was. But I knew they had passed where I hid. They had traveled further along the culvert. I breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps, too soon. For they sniffed again from where they had stopped. They barked, sounding irritated. And then, they started coming back! Motherswear these beasts! ¡°Illusion!¡± I mouthed. My [Chameleon] blurred around me. I lacked the energy to keep it going for its fullest duration, maybe ten seconds at most. They paused right where my ditch branched off from the culvert. They sniffed again. Looked around. Sniffed, again. Slowly, so slowly, I reached down and put my hand on my knife. If I caught them by surprise, I could wound them, slow them down. Assuming I had any energy left for an Illusion after [Chameleon] faded. Which meant I needed to drop it now and attack sooner rather than later. But could I do it? The thought left me more than just squeamish. I had to convince myself that my life was in danger, that they had struck first, that I had every right to defend myself. It was just a hard sell, since it would be both premeditated and a surprise attack. I supposed I could call it preemptive self defense¡­ but deep down, I knew that murder was murder. If a way existed to resolve this without bloodshed, then I needed to take it. Just as I concluded my internal debate, an excited yip sounded from the direction I had been headed at first. Did they pick up another trail? Both gnolls yipped-laughed back. The third gnoll answered. And then the two nearest me were off running. My Illusion faded seconds later. I remained hidden in that pit for sometime, catching my breath, and trying to relax. Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.2.3 I had questions. Mind, Body, and Spirit had all risen; I had known when they had risen too, from the itching burning sensation of the tattoo updating. Ignoring the fact that tattoos should not self modify or update, and knocking that entire impossibility off to ¡®magic,¡¯ there were still numerous questions. Oh, I could make educated guesses alright. Practicing Illusion increases Illusion, Climbing improves Climbing. But the ¡®Closed¡¯ mark had ticked up by a significant amount, and I was unsure of why. It implied that I would soon unlock a second Talent. But those were only guesses. What caused the ominously named ¡®Obsession¡¯ to tick up by one? Unknown. These unanswered questions made me nervous. I needed to understand my toolkit. It had been drilled in again and again, true for making friends, conning marks, and all-around-thieving. So while I waited to make sure the gnolls had left the area, I spent some time thinking. Mind: 27 (+1) These theories were unfounded, of course. But examining the tattoo, several of my glyphs on my right arm appeared to have space for nine marks, which measured a sort of progress. I was willing to bet that when I filled all nine, that I would get some sort of unlock or modification. Reasonable. I had a single data-point from the first Talent I received. But extrapolating off a single data-point? Insane. But from that theory, one of my Talents was nearing an unlock. If it unlocked like ¡®Athleticism,¡¯ then it would be based on whatever I was doing at the time. Nick had warned me originally, and I had already unlocked a possible sub-optimal Talent in climbing. So if I was not careful, and if I was correct, then there was a solid chance the newly unlocked Talent would be for something undesirable, like rock gazing. The very thought of some of the worst possibilities left me shuddering. I decided that it would be something I needed to be mindful of in the future. More than mindful¨CI was actually worried that I would unlock an awful Talent and get stuck with that forever. Especially when, in this survival situation, so many other magical skills would be more relevant. Such as conjuring food and water. My stomach rumbled and I swallowed some spit, wetting my dry throat with great dissatisfaction. I pushed the anxieties away, or tried to; the pit I had been shoving my emotions inside was filling up, but I kept pushing it all in despite that. Because what alternative did I have? A panic attack in the middle of the wilderness? When it came time for me to die, it would be on my terms, because I chose to, and not because of a mental breakdown. And that brought yet another distraction. I could lose myself trying to force myself to remember what had come before all of this. I thought I remembered a sister. And maybe a frightening mother. But¡­ no faces, names, or anything in particular. Just inferences. Maddening. My thoughts ran away from me, and I was forced to bring myself back on track, at least if I wanted to survive, and presently I did want to survive¨Cat least for now. But to do that, I needed to cover the basics of survival. I still had found no water. I could find no evidence of water, except the clouds and the gnolls. Without water, I would die. Without food, I would die¡­ slowly. I needed to find civilization. Yet, even if I found civilization, I would need a way to trade for necessities. Which meant I would have to ply my third oldest and most favorite hobby. While I dreamed of the mansions and jewelry safes of whatever bourgeoise, aristocrats, landed gentry, oligarchs, or whatever else this world had, I set off and began traveling. My bearings were towards the nearest column of black smoke. It took an hour to cross the jagged plateau, and I found myself climbing in elevation, as the smoke was towards the elevated corner of the surface. Body: 25 (+1) As I neared, I saw an orange glow hitting the undersides of the roiling bits of smoke. I grew excited. The scent of industrial sulfur and diesel left me hoping that humankind was just ahead. I reached the edge of the plateau, standing on the cliff overlooking the source of the plume and glow¨C My heart sank. I had been hoping it was a city, or a town, or even a rest station¡¯s sodium lights creating standard light pollution. And in a way, it was most definitely light pollution, just not from anything useful. The smoke was coming off what looked like a crude oil fire, arising from a marsh of tar pits and jagged rocks. It stank of sulfur and rot and left my nostrils burning. Despair threatened to overwhelm me, overflowing the metaphorical pit where I had been dumping, repressing, everything related to this Mothersworn foulness! And if Nick was to be believed, I had¨Chad died¨Cand now I was stuck god knows where, forgotten, alone, without supplies, or any real way to get supplies. I¨CI was going to die from thirst¨Calready I was getting loopy. Then it would be hunger. Going hungry¡­ I shuddered, an almost memory of a cramped locked wooden room with a nail jutting out¨Cno! I sat down, fell really, onto my backside, onto the stone ledge. I felt a pinch in my spine. I had forgotten about that. Yet another change, another problem. But the pain helped. It gave me focus. I shifted my weight and readjusted my tail so that it was not right under me. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Why did I have to get sent to such an awful place? I sat there for too long, mired in negative feelings. I sat there until forced to move. The wind had shifted, and the smoke blew in my direction. It stank like diesel fumes off a heavy cargo train. I spat, feeling my overly large tongue and disgusting myself even further. There was nothing for me here. Why were there giant open pits of oil and tar anyways? Once again, I distracted myself, this time from the gnawing pit in my stomach, by asking myself inane questions that likely had no bearing on my situation. But I knew that life was possible in these wastes. The gnolls had to eat and drink. Which meant nothing, at least not if I had no clue where the gnolls were getting their resources from. Did they hunt the marmots and snails? But what did they drink? Another possibility was that they lived by preying on travelers. But what travelers? The gnolls did show signs of having some sort of language. Which meant at least some rudimentary level of society. They could also have found the single oasis of life in this desolate waste. Another possibility, the gnolls might survive off of magic, which might be fruitless for my own requirements. There were too many unknowns. Too many! My stomach rumbled. I wondered if the gnolls were edible. No! I forced myself to smirk at the joke. Yes. A joke. That had been a joke. At least I hoped so. Regardless, I needed to move. I needed to answer these questions. And the best way to achieve that, would be to track down and spy upon the gnolls. Yes, that. Spirit: 25 (+1) I stood back up and stretched. The sky had darkened while I had ruminate. The wind chilled. My muscles cramped. Walking back to where I had seen the gnolls limbered me up though. I doubted I could sleep with the hunger and thirst gnawing at the door. I needed to find where they lived. Where they came from. Their den, or home, where they stored their food and young and water. I needed to find where they had gone. Yes. But where were they? I needed to¨C I realized I was spiraling. I had been raised better than this. Breathing exercises. If I was going to do this, I was going to do it right and treat it like a job. And even the most difficult jobs could be made manageable by breaking it down into parts. First part, finding out where they were based out of. I traveled back to where I had hid from them, near the culvert ditch, and looked for a trail. Everything was rock and lichen. There might have been a bit of trail in the grimey lichen, except I had trouble seeing anything like that. The constant wind kept dust from from building up evenly. But without obvious tracks, I still had a few options available. Body: 26 (+1) One, I could wait for the gnolls to return and then I could trail them home. That could be moved up from an unlikely chance encounter to near certainty through the use of bait, which my Illusions could probably provide. However, if I did bait them, then they would know I was in the area, and they would be on guard, likely hunting the source of the Illusions¨Cme. Two, I could begin sweeping the area until I came across them. Although, they might just as easily come across me, or we might miss each other completely. Most likely we would miss eachother completely. The landscape was made larger by the fractured terrain. Or three, and this was only a faint possibility, and an unsavory one at that. When I thought back to when they were hunting me, I remembered how they tried doing it, by scent. Which made sense for them, since gnolls were dog people. I bit my tongue. Could I? No. Besides, I was human, despite having dog¨Cnot dog, fox¨Ccharacteristics. But still... using my nose, like an animal? I felt ill. But, starvation, dehydration¡­ But, brutish indignified animals¡­ Would it even be possible? Not wanting to try it unless I knew it was possible, I reviewed a few of the discoveries I had made about my new, non-consensual and hopefully very temporary physiology. I could run on all fours, which meant my skeletal system was not human. Humans could never run on all fours, not effectively. I was unsure of the exact differences, but my legs were shorter, and my ankles and feet were significantly altered. My feet would no longer fit normal shoes, and between them and my ankles, it felt like there was too many joints. It would not surprise me if my hips had changed to accommodate the rest of the changes. I could now see in the dark. My hearing surpassed human limits. And scents bothered me much more than before. This was all an unnecessary delay. I steeled myself. It would not be the first nor the last that I humiliated myself in the name of an objective. I crouched down and angled my face towards the stony ground. My hair whipped around my eyes. I took a deep breath through my nose. I smelled a lot of things, and most of them were undesirable. It was all mixed together and difficult to parse. I took a few shorter sniffs next. It helped, a little bit. I was definitely picking up something musky-tangy. But there was also the undertones of oil and the overtones of smoke. I felt like a sommelier. That helped soothe my pride. A sommelier. I needed confirmation. An Idea. I knew the path that the gnolls had taken when chasing my own trail through the culvert and across parts of the plateau. I would use that knowledge to test my ability to follow a scent. First I tried catching a scent of them off to the side, where I knew they had not traveled. I still got part of the tangy sulfur smell, but none of the musk. I then went back to the culvert, and followed the musk trail. It was somewhat diffuse, and I ended up going about in circles up top for a bit, before quitting on the plateau and heading back down the cliff to where they had given chase. I thought I was starting to get the hang of it. To corroborate, my left arm burned as my tattoo updated itself yet again. I ignored the changes. I could not control them, and they would have no effect upon my decisions. Mind: 28 (+1) I had a trail to follow. Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.2.4 Despite my (hopefully-temporary) body¡¯s predilection towards tracking by scent, I still struggled in following the trail. I found myself losing the scent, frequently, and having to backtrack until I found it once more. In some instances, a trail would disappear, and once more I would backtrack. Some trails were faint, some stronger, and while I was increasing in ability, it was incredibly frustrating. But as I went, I found myself smelling more. The scent I tracked grew stronger. Every scent grew stronger. Almost tangible. They became easier to parse, to pull apart. Naturally, this increase corresponded to my tattoo itching and growing in broad strokes across my left arm. Mind: 31 (+3) As I followed their trail, I took lessons from my previous encounter. I now knew that walking the ridgeline was dangerous, as it left me visible from either side of the hill, from above and below. Too visible. I had been treating the countryside like a city, walking the easiest path, and trusting anonymity to blend in. But out here, there was no anonymity! I should have thought of that. I really, really should have thought of that. But enough castigation. I needed to focus on that task at hand. Though, it appeared that even the crude, dumb, primitive gnolls knew better than to walk the ridgeline. At least from following their trail. I found that they commonly chose the lee between hills, the crags, and a serpentine pattern that weaved around boulders. Between the natural camouflage their fur offered, the shadows, and their path, it would be difficult to sight them first. Here was a concern: if they practiced stealth, who were they sneaking for? Were they hunting prey, or were they hiding from a predator? I wondered what else lived out in these wastes, preying on individuals such as myself. While following the musk trail, I practiced my Illusions. Not the flames, or anything visible. Cohesive thoughts might have become sparse, but I had learned my lesson. Yes. No, I practiced something that would help me slink through dark places, that would grant me the greatest stealth, that I could use to blind my enemies, to shroud myself. Stealth would be my armor. But my Illusions, my [Chameleon] and [Blur] were limited in duration. They would not even last for thirty consecutive seconds! While useful in bursts¡­ and likely leaving any thief jealous, I had seen how dangerous this world was, and I needed more. So I practiced, again and again. And again. And gradually, as my left arm itched, my Blessing of Spirit grew. And I found my duration increased. As I was not stretching my imagination, and simply repeatedly exhausting my energy pool, I was able to directly correlate Spirit to Duration. That pool of energy, I realized, was Spirit, whatever Spirit was. Interchangeable, maybe. Regardless, my pool of Spirit grew. Spirit: 33 (+8) I now found that I could keep [Blur] up for over thirty seconds. Still not enough, but it would improve. I just hoped I would survive until then. So hungry. Thirsty. I sometimes imagined noises; sometimes saw shadows move. The lichen began to look richer in flavor, juicy. And the gastropods I encountered, despite their thorny and barbed black and red shells, began to appetize me. But I had no idea if they were poisonous or not! I wondered how I had managed to come so far without sustenance. Body: 27 (+1) Oh, magic, I had forgotten. A giggle escaped from my lips, which I quickly hushed by slapping my clawed pawed hand over my mouth. Looking back at that moment, I realized I might have lost a slight portion of my sanity, likely attributable to dehydration. At that time though, the embarrassing thought escaped my lips, ¡°sneaky sneak!¡± Regardless, I needed provisions. The night passed, and the horizon began brightening once more. Body: 28 (+1) It was then that I heard it. A gurgle. A familiar, burbling, curling, gurgle. I groaned. That thing was still after me?! The ooze. Motherswear it! I took a wide detour around the ooze, watching as it continued to follow my previous trail towards the cliff. I hoped it would keep going that way, and fail to notice my most recent trail. Since it moved slowly, I did not stick around to find out. Even if it followed me, I could easily outrun it. I just would be unable to rest. Irritation. Towards that evening, I had yet to find the gnolls or their den. But I did find an indent in a hillside that had stray hair gathered up in the corners between stones, and a particularly pungent aroma coming from several spots. As I sniffed those pungent areas, I realized what I had my face a few inches away from. I immediately pulled away and shook my head to clear the scent out. Embarrassment. Mind: 32 (+1) Body: 29 (+1) I continued on through another night. I had not slept since the canyon, and even that had been a short rest. Just another piece of evidence towards magic. Sleeping, as much as I detested it, was a bodily requirement. But other than fatigue, I was able to push through what should have been detrimental, what should have been disabling. And yet, I continued onward, practicing [Chameleon], mastering the ability to follow scent trails, and continuing to survive. Mind: 33 (+1) Body: 30 (+1) Spirit: 36 (+3) These increases, as it turned out, were timely. Incredibly so. Stolen novel; please report. A whining cackle, almost a laugh, had broken me from my reverie. Sourced from nearby. I froze. I had been keeping low to the ground, following the ducking-weaving-shadowed path, following the scent trail. And now, it looked like I had found them. Next came clacking claws and padding paws. Ahead of me, the hillside curved inward, forming a blind corner. Now, I could hear their breath. I needed to hide. I could climb the loose stone hillside to my right. I could risk tumbling down the same hillside to my left. The path I had been following left little else in regards to avenues of escape. In hindsight, that had been another of my failures. No time for self recriminations. The gnolls were almost upon me. Seconds! I had seconds at most! With limited options, I was forced to lean, almost lay entirely, against the hillside. Jagged rocks dug in and pressed against my skin, even through my jacket. Even through my¨Cthe¨Cfur. Fortunately I had never weighed much, and this new body weighed even less. The pressure against the sharp slate could have been worse. The flint edges could cut. And were I careless, they would. ¡°Illusion,¡± I mouthed. [Chameleon]. A blur formed around me, mimicking a boulder of the same color as the rest, though shaped oblong and perhaps too smooth. I had raised the Illusion just in time. Two gnolls came around the path, walking single file. They huffed as they approached. They strode casually, pausing to sniff the air, catching the strong stink of their own musk. I doubted they could smell me over it, but I could not be certain. They came within five feet and the front gnoll paused, causing the rear gnoll to crash into him. The first one yipped and barked back at the second, and the second growled and pointed a clawed finger forward. The first relented, and they resumed, passing directly in front of where I hid. My Illusion had perhaps twenty seconds left. The front one smelled the air again and paused, right in front of where I laid against the hillside. It sniffed the air again. And again. All the while, time was running out. The gnoll barked in its strange language. Just listening to it left me with a headache. Mind: 34 (+1) My Illusion still had at least ten seconds left¡­ which was not nearly enough if these gnolls kept standing there. The rearmost gnoll, a female with white splotches across her shoulders, leaned forward and bit the leading gnoll''s shoulder. Blood was drawn, but not much. Copper and musk filled the air. My nose twitched. My tongue watered. The female released the gnoll after he whined and yipped. She pushed him forward, again, and they marched past me. The female had just gone past when my Illusion dissolved. They were facing the wrong way to see me, but all it would take was one turn of the neck, and it would be all over. This close to their home, my escape would be unlikely if they saw me. Outrunning would be impossible. Combat would be necessary. I watched the gnolls like a hawk, for the slightest twitch that they might turn, ready to raise another Illusion with whatever energy I¨C The female turned her head. ¡°Illusion,¡± I mouthed. Her eyes widened, her ears went up, and a low growl echoed from her throat. Her gaze ran over the hillside where I laid, and her eyes passed over where I laid without stopping. I was still holding my breath, and I began to see spots. The lead gnoll kept walking before realizing the female had stayed behind. He laughed in that strange hyena fashion of gnolls. The female snarled, then turned back to the path and stomped towards him. He took off running away from her, cackling all the while, and the female chased. Soon they were out of sight. I let my breath out in a heavy sigh and drew in another just as heavily. I had forgotten a core tenant of Mother¡¯s Rules: Always have an escape route. It had been a long while since I had thought of those. I shuddered as several unpleasant memories almost surfaced, similar to a nightmare fading from the morning. I knew it had been there, I knew it had been painful, but I could not remember exactly what it was. Likely for the best. Unfortunately, I could not correct this mistake soon, and likely I would need to break the Rule again. Fortunately, the Rules had caveats, several of them. If the reward was guaranteed to offer survival or escape, then pushing forward on a plan without escape avenues could be acceptable, if necessary. When the gnolls had been absent for two and a half minutes, I got back up from the hillside and crept towards where they had come from. Around the turn of the hillside, I found a recess, where the hill folded even further onto itself, providing three natural barriers around a relatively flat area. Fur had been blown by the wind into the recesses of the rocks. And there, nestled on the deepest portion of the folded hillside, where two erudite boulders leaned against each other, and there, there was a cavern. A shadow moved. I froze, ¡°Illusion,¡± I mouthed. [Chameleon]. I watched the shadow closely. It moved again, just slightly. A paw moved. Gnoll height. A sentry. I ducked back the way I came. Running in blind would be a mistake. I needed to observe the site; I needed to learn the gnolls¡¯ habits and routes. Looking around, I saw the far side of the valley, down the hillside and up again, there were plenty of large boulders scattered. I followed the hillside down, causing some slate to fall loose and clatter noisily. I ended up racing the rocks to the bottom of the valley. ¡°Illusion.¡± Just to be safe, I surrounded myself in a shroud of gray that I had taken to calling [Blur]. I continued running across the valley floor, and then up the far side. Glancing over my shoulder, I could not see any pursuers, although the gnolls blended in dangerously with their environment. I climbed up until I was at a height above the trail and the gnolls¡¯ den, and I settled beside a boulder, where I could see them, but they would be hard pressed to spot me. Ignoring my hunger, pretending my thirst existed not, I kept watch, while practicing my Illusions. I needed to be faster, and I needed more convincing camouflage. From observation, it appeared the Blessings were increasing at a slower rate than before. I wondered if one hundred formed some measure of threshold, and if other thresholds existed. Regardless, I still found several more gains as I watched and spied and waited. Body: 31 (+1) Mind: 35 (+1) Spirit: 40 (+4) Illusion: 3/9 (+1) Despite pressing biological imperatives, I was making progress. And soon, those imperatives would be resolved. Strangely, I felt an urge to cackle and yip. I ignored the urge, of course. But the fact that I felt that urge was concerning. Not for the first time, I wished I knew how I came to be here, and who sent me. And why. Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.2.5 My second Talent was one step closer to unlocking. It had apparently taken that step during the brief almost confrontation with the patrolling gnolls. With only three steps remaining to unlocking a new Talent, I had to recognize two inconvenient facts: the Talent would unlock during my planned heist. I had no way to control what that Talent would be. This was concerning; if I were to survive, I needed relevant and useful tools. Without conscious selection, there was a significant chance I would receive a sub-optimal tool. Obviously not good. However, without a means to address this problem, I was forced to ignore it and ¡®hope¡¯ for the best. Disturbing. However, feelings aside, I pressed on. During this period, I never stopped observing the gnoll¡¯s den. Not home. Yes, den. The term fitted these animals. The entrance was a tunnel dug into the stoney hillside. It began in the crack between two slabs of basalt leaning against each other. The hill itself was large, steep, and formed of gray stone. How the gnolls had dug into the stone: unknown. The hole was far too cylindrical for it to be natural though. Unnaturally so. It was guarded by a sentry, a gnoll, lounging under the overhanging slab of basalt. The guard appeared unobservant, careless, and slothful. The wind shifted several times, and the gnolls¡¯ combined stink overwhelmed me. There must have been a substantial number of them. I maintained my vigil for the rest of the day, until dusk came and the gnolls began exiting the cavern. I counted fourteen of them, and they tended to travel in twos or threes. The cavern appeared just large enough for pairs of them to walk (on all fours) side by side. As they exited, they sprang out and followed the two paths out from their recess corner of the hill. The gnolls appeared unhurried. When the darkness of night came, and only the distant orange glows illuminated the clouds overhead, the gnolls stopped coming out of the cavern. I assumed that the nocturnal beasts had all left, except for the guard. I could not overly rely on that assumption, and it would be best for me to observe another day and night. But my stomach ached and my throat scratched whenever I swallowed. Body: 32 (+1) I needed supplies. I might have lasted this long through whatever magic brought me here, but I needed supplies. These necessities forced me to take the risk. And once the gnoll guarding the cavern appeared to doze off, I made my move. I came down my side of the valley in a crouch, lowering my profile, and making little to no sound except when my toes clicked against a rock. I kept watch for movement, for any gnolls that might chance across me. Seeing no threats as I reached the valley floor, I crossed, and I avoided stopping until I reached the base of the far hill. Besides the wind, I heard nothing. I climbed the hill leading up towards the recess where the gnolls lived. But the hill was formed of loose slate and slagged rock. I placed my paws¨Cfeet¨Ccarefully, but even then, each step sent stones sliding down, clattering and causing far too much noise. Before anyone could come to investigate the sound, I climbed quickly to the top. I believed that no one had seen me yet. But when I reached the top, I cast [Chameleon], for if any gnoll came to investigate. When none did, I realized their security was absolutely atrocious. Good for me, bad for them. I poked my head around the curve of the hill to peek at the entrance. The gnoll had woken up from his nap and yawned. I wondered if the racket I created climbing up the scramble had startled him awake. If that had been the case, the gnoll did not appear to be acting on the noise. Perhaps he solely wished to avoid getting caught snoozing by his cohorts. I imagined that falling asleep while guarding the entrance was a punishable offense. But while he may have awoken, he still did not appear alert. I pulled back out of sight and dropped my Illusion, allowing my pool of spirit to recharge. Last minute doubts¨Cconcerns¨Cran through my mind. The cavern would likely be a dead end, with a single narrow entrance. There was a sentry. There were likely other gnolls remaining inside. There was an unknown amount of time before the rest of the gnolls returned to their den. If not for the caveats to Mother¡¯s Rules, I would have aborted my planned heist. But I truly needed supplies; this den had become my best bet. I could think of no other solution, other than throwing myself on the gnolls¡¯ mercy. Laughable. Once my spirit had recharged, I shrouded myself in a [Blur] and began creeping towards the entrance. Moving too slow would see me exhausting my energy and dropping my Illusion before I reached the cavern. Moving too quickly would risk sounds of footsteps or wind, which could alert the sentry. Thus, I traveled at a middling speed, picking each footstep carefully. The trick was knowing my center of balance, and watching my foot placement. And keeping my toes off the ground. When I reached the entrance, the gnoll posted as a sentry was awake, leaning against the wall, and scratching its ear with a foot. He was distracted. But the gnolls had shown an uncanny ability to sense me. I could not just assume I could slip by, even with a cover of darkness shrouding me. I slowed my steps and held my breath. I still had at least ten seconds left on my Illusion. I came within three feet of the sentry, nearly past him. He sniffed the air. My heart leapt in panic. I could not stop! I had to keep moving. I was almost in the tunnel, where the absolute darkness should hide me. I had to keep going forward. The gnoll scratched at its nose with a claw, picking at a nostril. I took another step. I had five seconds left of safety, of my Illusion. I was almost inside! Another step, just one more¨C The gnoll sneezed. The loud sound startled me and left me jumping forward, into the tunnel, and landing with a roll. I came to a stop in a crouch and froze, waiting. The gnoll sniffed the air again, but now, I realized it was more of a sniffle. Did the gnoll have a cold? It was further debasing itself by scratching in uncivilized places. I breathed out in relief. I was safe. At least for the time being. I continued, further, deeper into the cavern. However, as I traveled I began noticing irregularities with the tunnel which was formed by a continuous and almost-perfect ovoid shape, wider than tall. Melted stone had resolidified, giving walls the appearance of candlewax. There were no signs of damage from claws or tools, at least not enough signs of damage for stone to have been carved. And yet, the gnolls had clearly dug this tunnel, or someone had and the gnolls were squatting. Because if the gnolls could achieve this¡­ no, I did not believe they could have dug this. The scale of the tunnel was too great, the tools or sorcery must have been too advanced. But if the gnolls did manage to create this, then that could be dangerous. Originally, I had been worried about teeth and claws, but now I would need to exercise care against other possible esoteric threats. Like magic. At this point, I should have re-evaluated my plan and perhaps cut my losses. However, I refused to deviate from my mission: I needed those supplies, and from all I had seen, the gnolls were likely to have them. And so, I continued onward. After several curves in the dark tunnel, I came to a branching hallway. Most of the foot traffic went to the right, judging by the hair and the musky odor. The path to the left was less often used, and smelled slightly more pungent. Remembering my priorities, to find food, I figured that the most trafficked areas would be wherever their pantry was. So, I chose to go right. Traveling further, I came to another branching pathway. Here, I froze in a crouch. I heard several yips and mewls coming from a branch to the left. It appeared not all of the gnolls had gone hunting for the night. I shuddered as I heard rustling and something akin to humming and kept moving, sulking, to the right, avoiding the passage with obvious signs of habitation. If I failed to find a pantry this way, then I would come back and check the others. My right arm itched again, near where I remembered the second Talent sat. Another step closer to unlocking it. I worried what had happened to cause the locked Talent to increase towards the unlocking threshold. And I worried even more about what I would get if it unlocked here and now. Closed (7/9) (+1) But these thoughts were distracting. I needed to focus. I caught the scent of something rotten. Not like waste, but like spoiled milk, with something other. I doubted the gnolls had refrigeration to keep their food unspoiled. So despite my grimace, and initial gag reflex, I kept moving forward until I reached an opening. I was surprised by the low light conditions that allowed me to see relatively well. Some light was given by a thin layer of lumenent grime smeared along the walls of the cavern. A lichen, or moss? It could not be photosensitive, being this far into the dark. But maybe some other form of chemical synthesis. Regardless, there was now a faint glow that allowed me to see, as oppose to navigating by touch. I entered the room with a faintly luminescent glow. It was covered in fur and musk. Fortunately, not where the gnolls did their business, but they must have spent much time there. Rotten skins and straw covered the floor, which probably passed as furniture. If this was their living conditions, then they probably were lacking in material goods. I began to reconsider the likelihood that they kept a pantry. But they had to have one. There were many of them, many that did not leave the den, and not all the gnolls returning to the den came back bearing supplies. Which meant they had to have something here to eat. There was a pantry. There had to be one. I kept going, navigating the crude sleeping chamber by following the wall, making a circuitous route. I was a quarter of the way through when I heard a snort. I froze. The snort had come from about five feet ahead of me and a few feet off the side of the wall, from near the floor. My ears quivered. There was breathing too. How had I not noticed before this? On the ground there was a gnoll sized lump. Its leg twitched and it began yipping. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. My right arm burned once more, right over that locked Talent. It must be getting close. I wished that I could sit down and read, but doing so would be impossible. I would check it later, when the job was done. Closed (8/9) (+1) Picking my steps carefully, oh so carefully, and relying on every ounce of stealth I had learned, I continued forward in a crouch, my tail swaying awkwardly behind me with each step. When I was passing by the sleeping gnoll, my tail came too close to the gnoll. I flinched and pulled it back. The gnoll snorted and moved its arm, scratching its face. I did not panic. No panic! It was against a Rule. Good girls are always calm and collected. Just like proper girls never swear. But if that gnoll was waking up, then I had no intention of sticking around. I was around the far side of the room when I heard the gnoll snore once more. Apparently, I was safe. Stressed, but safe. I reached a second exit to the sleeping chamber, one that led to another long cylindrical tunnel, where more of the rotten milk scent emanated from. I continued pressing forward, following the strengthening scent. Further ahead, I noticed that same luminescent glow, similar to the chamber I had just left. The pantry must be just ahead. I was so close. I picked each step as carefully as I could; I willed my tail to obey, to avoid alerting any of these animals to my presence. It was difficult for me to control, however, and I was unsure that my tail would not expose me. It was a liability. A disgusting reminder of¨Cno. No. Stay focused! I scolded myself silently. For a moment, I paused and considered shoving the¨Cthe disfigurement¨Cup inside my jacket. But the thought left me uncomfortable. Not that I was unwilling to experience discomfort, but an instinctual part of me hated the thought. And that bothered me. On a deep level. Why the¨Cwhy did I have instincts at all? Well, thinking about it, it made sense. The tail served as a counterbalance. It detected shifts in the air currents. Leaving it out in the open at least let me benefit from the blemish; I would have it either way, regardless of if I got something out of it or not. I pinched the inside of my wrists, claws scraping soft skin, hurting. Right. I needed to stay on task. While I had been¡­ strategizing, I had reached the entryway to the next chamber. I paused, just to the side once I came in, allowing my eyes to adjust. Focusing all my senses. Especially my ears. I would not make the same mistake twice. As I tried to pierce the gloom, I almost made out a shape. I could hear a soft rasp, a rhythmic rasp. There was definitely something in there. From the sounds of it, they were at the back of the room. The gloom of the room was difficult to pierce, but eventually I did make out their outline. It took me aback. They were sitting on a crude throne of bones and possibly wood, with more of the rotting skin and furs that I had seen thus far. A throne. Which meant a throne room. Which meant a treasury, because there would be no way that the gnoll-boss let the treasures be anywhere else than beside them. And what would gnolls treasure the most, but food? Which meant a pantry. I had found it, the source of the spoiled milk scent; it was coming from this room, from the pantry. Despite the good news, I could not allow myself to smile, for the job was not complete. Now that I knew what I was looking for, I quickly found a secondary tunnel just beside the throne. That was where the good news ended. Perking my ears up, I did not hear the light snore or regular breathing that I associated with slumber. And while that was not definitive proof, it seemed likely that the gnoll-boss was awake and aware. Fortunately, I had a spell for that. ¡°Illusion,¡± I mouthed. [Chameleon] surrounded me, this time I tried to match the same dull green pastelle of the glowing grime of the walls. I could almost feel the energy flowing through me, just almost. Though that might have been delusions left from dehydration. I began to creep along the side, continuously matching my camouflage to the wall. It was not exact, as the grime had been smeared on in irregular patterns, and my shroud was too consistent in coloration to match the walls exactly. But it was close. I just hoped it would be close enough. The boss gnoll barked something, in that strange language of theirs. I froze, my ears quivering, my mind counting down the time I could keep the Illusion for at least another thirty seconds. The boss gnoll tried speaking again. I could almost understand it, but it gave me a splitting headache to do so. My left arm burned again, which meant my ¡®Blessings¡¯ were increasing. Lovely. Mind: 36 (+1) ¡°Shad ¡­ you?¡± the gnoll boss said. Or so I thought they said. I was starting to get a read on their language. Somehow. Probably magic. I felt a growl rising up at the back of my throat that I barely repressed in time. These changes were not consensual, I had never agreed to any of this! And now my body kept changing without my understanding, and certainly not my consent. Infuriating, that was the term. My right arm chose that second to itch, almost terribly. A horrible thought struck me. What if I unlocked a Talent for linguistic comprehension, or worse, comprehending the gnoll language specifically? Unlocked (9/9) (+1) Despite my fears, I could not give them much more than a thought. I would check the tattoos later. For now, focus. I had around twenty seconds left on my Illusion; I needed to move, could not dawdle. The gnoll coughed in laughter and then shook their head. ¡°No ¡­ yet,¡± they said. I swore that I could almost feel their alertness rescind, which gave me the reckless courage to push forward, though I did take the lightest steps possible. Sneaking really was all about the footwork. I felt an itch on my right forearm. The locked Talent. Distracting, but I kept going. I reached the side chamber behind the makeshift throne. Without pausing, I passed through the threshold and stopped in a crouch. I dropped the Illusion to allow my energy to refill, lest I need the energy for an immediate and emergency Illusion. Something brushed against my ankle. It had been the slightest pressure. I was unsure if I had truly felt it or not. I crouched lower, gently reaching downwards with my hand, until my finger traced along a thread at ankle height. A tripline? The itching burning sensation along my right forearm grew worse. Ignoring the sensation, I traced the line from where it was embedded in the wall to an eye hook and a few dangling bits of metal and bone. A very crude alarm then. With care, I stepped over and past the tripwire. Each step, I paused to carefully feel out any other potential traps, careful to verify there were no pressure plates or caltrops or anything else that these animals could think up. Down went the pad of my foot behind my toes, a hesitant tap to feel for abnormalities, then I would commit to the step. The meticulous process led me into the back room, where I discovered uneven wooden shelving on one wall, and a trunk pushed against the back wall. I also discovered the source of the rotten milk stench. Sitting on the shelves were burlap sacks. I investigated all of them, expecting a pantry of food, even if partially rotten. There were grains that smelled like urine, and a damp and moldy flour in another. Either way, I thought they were inedible, even in my starved state. I would need to be far hungrier before I tried eating that. Sitting on another shelf was what could possibly be bread, if bread was supposed to be burnt black and somewhat glossy. When I grabbed it, my fingers sank in like the bread was actually damp mush. Maybe it was. I passed on that as well. And then there were gray tubers that almost looked like carrots. Both the tubers and the maybe-bread stank like death. Was gnoll food inedible?! From hooks, there were two carcasses hanging, both of them looked to be some sort of humanoid. Both had chunks missing from them, and already gutted. I might be hungry, but I was not that hungry. It did look tasty though, by far, the most appetizing thing I had seen yet. But no¨Ctoo close to cannibalism. Surely there had to be something of value here, at least food wise. There was an untapped, unopened barrel, which might have contained water, and I was sorely tempted to check, but was unable to, unless I wanted to make a lot of noise to alert the gnoll-boss sitting just outside. What was promising on the fluid front, was hanging along a wall above the barrel. I had missed it at first: a flagon on a shoulder strap. That, I took, and slung it around my shoulder. It hung too low on my hips, so I had to wear it crosswise. Only slightly inconvenient, but worthwhile. After that, the only thing left to check was the trunk. My left arm itched once more. Mind: 37 (+1) Ignored. On one hand, I loved that I was improving. On the other hand I disliked the persistent pain from the updating tattoo which I had no say in. And it was distracting. Pushing myself back on track, I prowled over to the chest, ignoring the itch that now was on my right arm. I reached the trunk and felt along the seam. I found no obvious traps, though there was a simple locking mechanism. I poked the lock and gently tried lifting the lid. It moved a fraction before catching on the latch. It seemed simple enough. This time I let myself grin. In my right breast pocket hidden in the inner lining, I kept a flat and narrow leather case about the length of my finger. I pulled it out and kissed it for luck, then opened it and pulled out the torque and the pick. My left arm itched more strongly than before. Ignored, once more. Mind: 38 (+1) I set the torque and began probing the pins. I only felt three of them, making the lock incredibly simple. Ten seconds later, and the last pin slid into place, and the lock spun. It clanked into position and I mentally swore. I froze for seconds, with my tools in place, terrified of moving a muscle. My ears swiveled and quivered, seeking any sound. The gnoll boss coughed, but otherwise gave no inclination that they heard. I was sliding my tools out and gently lifting the lid when I heard the barking. It was distant but approaching. Had one of the gnolls caught my scent? Either way, my time was incredibly limited. I finished opening the trunk, a bit faster, and a bit careless of the rusted hinges. The barking outside was loud enough to cover the hinges. I hoped. I risked. Inside I found a leather backpack and a few trinkets. Not knowing what any of it was, I filled the backpack and put it on while testing the straps to make sure they were snug. Meanwhile, outside in the throne room, a gnoll came running in, panting for breath. I kept half an ear on their conversation, though listening to them left my head aching. Inexplicably, I found myself understanding more and more of their language. ¡°What?¡± The gnoll sitting on the throne asked, who I presumed was the boss. I could not get a read on their gender from their voice. It oscillated and snarled between the barked consonants. ¡°Den Mother ¡­ ¡­ approach!¡± the other gnoll said. The gnoll-boss was called Den Mother. That might explain the spoiled milk smell. More importantly, something or someone was coming. I figured it would be time for me to slip out while everyone was busy. Reactivating my [Chameleon], I once again began sneaking out, following a circuitous route, and stepping over the tripwire. My steps were a bit different now with the weight, and I used my hands to hold the flagon and my tail in place, to prevent any risk. The burning on my right arm grew almost unbearable, and for a second, I felt the fire race out from under my skin, from my arm to my forehead to my feet, everywhere. Sweat instantly began beading along my forehead before getting sucked back in. My armpits dried. My feet felt light and impossibly floaty. And then everything settled back down. I stumbled. Unlocked: Stealth (1/9): Trackless Tracks (1/9) The two gnolls paused for a moment. ¡°Sludge? Why?¡± the Den Mother asked. ¡°... sure?¡± ¡°What ¡­ do?¡± the other gnoll asked. I risked a glance out from the ¡®treasure room¡¯ and into the throne room. The other gnoll looked like it might have been the same one that had been ¡®guarding¡¯ the entrance. It was hard to be certain. But I was starting to have a very bad feeling about this. Since neither of them were scanning the room for the noise, I continued, wondering just what Talent I had unlocked. The Den Mother abruptly stood up. ¡°Come!¡± she barked, standing up. I might not have known where she was planning on going, but the way she was angled when she said that¡­ I just knew that I needed to leave. Immediately. Stepping over the tripline once more, I crept out from the treasure room and began traveling along the walls, just as the Den Mother turned and began striding into the very room I had just departed from. I kept moving, not stopping, perhaps picking up the pace while maintaining my Illusion. I heard her begin rummaging around in there, and the other gnoll followed her. After a moment, she shrieked. I started running. Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.2.6 I was running. Careless, yes. But I needed to vacate the throne room, I needed to vacate the gnoll den altogether. I had my ill-gotten gains, the knapsack, the flagon, and now, I needed to ensure I kept them, along with my life. ¡°Where is ¡­,¡± the den mother shrieked in that barking, guttural tongue from behind. I was unable to catch all of it, but it was enough for me to feel justified in my decision to flee. Soon I was out of the throne room, heading down the hallway between the throne room and the sleeping chamber. Which, I remembered belatedly, originally had contained a sleeping gnoll. The den mother¡¯s shriek could still be heard. Depending on how light the sleeping gnoll slept¡­ I would deal with it when it became relevant. My left arm itched, again. Mind: 39 (+1) A rustle came from ahead, towards the sleeping chamber. Fur brushing stone and fur, claws clacking, and it was approaching. The sleeping gnoll had just become relevant. I heard the gnoll breathing as I reactivated [Camouflage], surrounding myself with a blur that would make me hard to see. The gnoll came running down the center of the tunnel, directly towards me. Since the tunnel was curved, and only tall enough to stand in the middle, I jumped to the side and clung to the stone. The gnoll ran by, stinking of musk and rotten flesh. Its fur brushed my own on my tail. I almost gagged at the sticky sensation. The gnoll slowed, almost pausing. The den mother shrieked again. The gnoll slapped itself in the head and stumbled back into a run, quickly passing out of sight. I hopped down from the wall and began jogging towards my escape. I figured I could outrun the gnolls, so with them all behind me, I just needed to get out and free of the den before anymore gnolls showed up, wondering why their boss was sounding the alarm. Back through the sleeping chambers, back down to the first split in the passage, and soon, the exit to the den was in sight. I had yet to encounter any other gnolls, and I could almost taste the freedom. Just ahead there would¨Cshould¨Cbe the glow of light (and when compared to the tunnels, even the faint diffuse starlight filtering through an overcast sky would be bright). I had it all planned out, once I reached the exit, I would drop to all fours, degrading as it was, but with a burst of speed, a winding course through the craggy hills, an Illusion, a hiding spot¡­ soon, I would be free to taste the flagon, and try the roots and tubers within the knapsack¡­ soon. At least, that had been the plan. But there was an oddity that caused me to slow to a stop before I reached the exit. Where there should have been the glow of the night, the whistling wind, there was not. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. The fur on my tail bristled. My ears stood high at alert. I heard it. A burble. The ooze. The very same creature that had killed Nick Delaney, that had doggedly pursued me through the canyon, that had climbed the cliff, that had followed my trail, that had now found me, cornered me. It was obstructing the entryway to the cavern. It nearly filled the entire tunnel, with little clearance space above it. Motherswear it! Proper ladies never swear but by all that is good I felt this was a perfect time to swear, so motherswear it! Despite the fatigue, despite the litany of ill-humored thoughts, the instant I confirmed that the ooze was obstructing the exit, plans began to form. First, I needed to get away from the ooze. It was throwing tendrils forward and crawling further into the tunnel. I turned and began running. I heard barking shouts from up ahead. The gnolls, of course. Because of course, they would be there. Just my luck. My hackles still raised, joined a subconscious growl, just barely audible. When I realized I was growling, I promptly stopped. Nothing changed. I hoped. ¡°Protect ¡­!¡± the den mother shouted, her bark echoing down the tunnel. It seemed they had not heard me. And the ooze already knew I was here. No loss then. Though I would need to take care in the future, to avoid giving away my position at inopportune moments. I reached the first intersection, to the left was the awful wretched scent, and to the right was the way I had already explored. The second part of my plan, I needed to find a distraction, and the space to maneuver around the ooze. I had seen two rooms that could provide the space, and I had a decent idea for the distraction. I headed right. But as I came to the intersection after that, I heard footsteps pounding towards me from up ahead. Likely, the den mother and her two gnolls were coming to battle the ooze. I swore again, and wished fervently that the gnolls survived. Better them than the tireless ooze. Yet, there was little I could do to influence the battle, other than alerting them to my presence, which would then spoil my escape. And as all three of the gnolls were heading my way, and as the ooze was pursuing from somewhere behind me, I had little recourse but to take the branching pathway, towards the mewling yips I had heard earlier, all while holding an Illusion active to conceal me. Down this new tunnel, I found my path sealed by a wooden door. A locked wooden door. The footsteps were quickly approaching. The tunnel was not wide enough to guarantee the gnolls would pass by unnoticed. I pulled out my torque and lockpick, costing five seconds. I set the torque to the lock and felt the pins. Three of them, same as the chest. It might even be the same key as the chest, though I could not verify without from touch alone. I popped all three pins, costing ten seconds. The gnolls reached the intersection and turned down the same tunnel I had, just behind me. The lock tumbled open; I pushed the door open and slipped inside. ¡°... pups?¡± the den mother barked from maybe fifteen feet away, though distance was hard to tell from the way sound bounced off the tunnel walls. She was close though. Too much so. I lacked the time to relock the door. Abandoning it, I jumped to the side and clung to the wall, partway up towards the ceiling, and taking full advantage of my ability to climb surfaces without pre-existing handholds. I modified my Illusion, to better match the partially lit interior. I held my breath. I would not have been able to maintain this Illusion for much longer, and it had been running since I had started running. Castigating myself, and realizing I only had seconds left on my Illusion, I prayed and hoped for the best. One of the gnoll¡¯s eyes scanned over where I was hidden, but given the speed at which their eyes passed by, it was clear they had not seen me. There was little space to hide in the room, with nothing to obstruct vision. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. And yet, I was running out of the spiritual energy that powered my Illusion. My knife weighed heavily upon my hip as I hung from the wall. The den mother locked the door while the third gnoll headed towards the center of the room, where there, in the center of the room, was a small mound of dirt and rotting plantlike material, and atop that, were several smaller gnolls, which were playing by gnawing upon bleached bones. Belatedly, I realized they were cubs, kids. This was a gnoll nursery, as surreal as that thought was. I shuddered. Seconds left on my Illusion. If I was going to attack, I would need to do so now. Otherwise, I would stick out from the gloom and be readily seen. The only saving grace was that the lighting in the room was incredibly dim, and the smeared on luminescent residue had not been applied to the upper walls, leaving the shadow thicker where I hid. Those were my two real options: continue hiding without my Illusion while my energy recharged, or, attempt to defeat all three gnolls. My left arm itched. So, so irritating! Spirit: 41 (+1) But the gnolls really had yet to wound me, and while they had certainly chased me with malicious intent, that did not warrant death. And who would take care of the pups if the ooze came this way? Both options were risky, but only one of them left me with a clear conscience. The choice was easy. My Illusion expired, I continued hanging from the wall, hoping that I would go unnoticed, that I would not have to resort to violence. And so, tense and ready for a fight at a moment¡¯s notice, I remained hanging from the wall. ¡°Why ¡­ ?¡± the den mother barked. The headache I had from listening to them continued, but the spike of agony had receded to a tolerable level of migraine. ¡°No know,¡± the sentry gnoll responded. ¡°Came direct. No pause. No chase. No know.¡± ¡°Bad,¡± the Den Mother coughed. She was pacing the room on all fours, scratching the dirt with her long yellowed claws. ¡°Humans?¡± ¡°No see,¡± the sentry answered. The den mother growled, then pointed at the gnoll who had been sleeping. ¡°Sloth. Go check.¡± ¡°... ?¡± the gnoll, apparently titled sloth, asked with a cough and a shrug. The den mother snarled and took a step towards Sloth, causing Sloth to flinch back. ¡°I go!¡± He picked his way slowly to the door and glanced back at the Den Mother. She came closer, pulled a key out from a strip of leather around her neck, and unlocked the door, sending Sloth out. Sloth paused in the doorway. ¡°What ¡­ me scent?¡± Sloth asked. I was unable to catch the full meaning of it. Parts of their language still eluded me. The Den Mother growled, ¡°then run!¡± She took a half-hearted swipe at him. ¡°You go!¡± Sloth yelped and hurried away, leaving the nursery behind. The den mother once more closed the door and locked it, then resumed her pacing. Every time she turned on my side of the room, every time she turned in her pacing, and was momentarily facing my direction, my heart leapt up my throat. By some scant miracle, I avoided her discovery. It was by luck or good fortune alone, for my own atrocious planning had led me to this point. I kept expecting them to find me, to smell me, as I could not help but smelling their disgusting scent. But they did not. I had some ideas as to why, but nothing solid. It felt like hours, but in truth, just minutes at most. Soon there was a slap on the door. I flinched. The den mother turned her full attention upon the door, along with the other gnoll. Athleticism (1/9): Climbing (3/9) (+1) ¡°Let in!¡± Sloth barked from the otherside of the door. ¡°Where it?¡± the den mother demanded, not moving to unlock the door. ¡°Sit Room! Let in! Let in!¡± Sloth demanded, ending in a whine. ¡°No lie?¡± the Den Mother asked. ¡°No! Hurry!¡± Sloth shouted back. The Den Mother unlocked the door and held it open, before poking her head out to verify. Soon, she allowed Sloth to rush back in. But to Sloth¡¯s surprise, the Den Mother did not re-close the door. ¡°Grab pups,¡± the Den Mother said. ¡°We run.¡± ¡°Retreat?¡± Sloth asked. Meanwhile the sentry went to gather the pups. There were three of them. The sentry brought one over and handed it to Sloth and held it out until Sloth reluctantly held it. Sloth¡¯s arms trembled with the strain. The sentry went back and grabbed the other two pups, who were about the same size as the first. This time, the sentry carried one in each arm. ¡°I take lead,¡± the Den Mother barked, ¡°follow.¡± She stepped out from the room, with the other two following. The door shut once they were out, and I heard the lock click into place, before their heavy footsteps receded into the distance. Stealth (1/9): Trackless Tracks (2/9) (+1) A sigh of relief burst from my lips. I hurried to the door and pressed my ear to it. I did not hear anyone outside, but that was no sure proof of their absence. However, I doubted the door would provide much safety against the ooze. It could likely dissolve the wood, just like it dissolved flesh. With my decision made, I picked the lock, breaking my earlier record at around seven seconds, and I proceeded to escape. I ran to the intersection, listened for any activity, heard the burble from further into the gnoll den, from the throne room. Perfect. The way to the exit was clear. I made my way to the next intersection, where the awful, rank, just awful, path branched off. I chose to keep moving towards the exit. While I came closer to the exit, I slowed into a crouch, implementing my hard earned stealth. It felt easier than before, not that it was particularly difficult before, but it was still easier now than before. My tail seemed to counterbalance each step. My feet felt lighter, and I did not have to struggle so hard to keep my toe claws from clacking on the stone. Soon, I saw the faint glow of the outside night up ahead, the exit to the tunnel. I slowed even further, straining my senses. Gnolls were chuffing and barking outside, beyond the entrance, likely waiting in ambush of the ooze, though I was uncertain what they thought they could accomplish out there that they could not within the tunnels. Unless they hoped to avoid getting cornered, which was reasonable. I shuddered at the thought of being trapped at a dead end with the ooze approaching; I had just narrowly avoided such a situation. I could appreciate the gnolls¡¯ concern, if that was indeed their concern. However, despite those possible shared sympathies, there was an issue: the gnolls were arrayed in an arc and facing the entrance. There were more than the three of them, which meant several of the adult gnolls had returned from their patrols, possibly recalled early. While there was still space between the gnolls, easily enough for me to pass through, the night was not dark enough to guard my passage through their ranks. And even if they by chance failed to see me, they would smell me, or hear me, as I crept through between them. So no, I would not be able to sneak through them. That would be a last resort. I paused to think. I had time before the ooze caught up. At least I hoped so. What were my options? I could wait for the ooze and slip out ahead of it, using it as a distraction. But that risked getting near the ooze. Images flashed through my head of Nick Delaney getting eaten alive by that monster. No. I would not be going anywhere near that thing. But, a thought occurred to me. I did not necessarily need the ooze to create a distraction. In fact, I had so many options available, limited by my imagination. The ooze was large though, and when I had practiced earlier, the largest Illusion I could form was about my size. I could perhaps create an Illusion of a mute and scentless infantile ooze, but I doubted the gnolls would believe it. But, just because the ooze was beyond me, did not mean that a different distraction would not work. And as I already knew that the gnolls suspected humans were involved. Could I create a convincing image of a human? Did I have enough time to master it? Humans were complex as well, and they were more complex than just the aura I shrouded myself with to camouflage myself. But, I thought there were options. I just needed to practice, and pray I had enough time before the ooze caught up. Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.2.7 I needed to practice if I were to craft a realistic Illusion. Why I had not thought of doing this earlier, before the job¡­ I blamed hunger and dehydration. Not that I was making excuses, no, never that. But I needed to master another pattern for an Illusion, one that would be useful in a variety of situations. Mothersworn foolishness. I really ought to have prepared this before, while I was monitoring the den from outside. I would do better in the future. But now, now I needed to practice. I snuck backwards, further into the den, giving the gnolls watching waiting outside no clue of my presence. I snuck backwards, back into the den, nearer to where the ooze was gurgling burbling hunting for me, but further away from the gnolls, allowing me the opportunity to practice. I kept my ears wide, listening for the threatening burble. Nothing yet. I stopped at the first chamber with a glowing light and began practicing. ¡°Illusion,¡± I breathed. Figuring that it would be easier to start with a baseline, my first attempt was to cast an Illusion of myself. I tried envisioning myself in a mirror. My cute self. My adorable self. My¡­ self¡­ ? The details were hard to envision. I tried anyway. A haze almost formed, but not quite, and certainly not a convincing decoy. Once my energy recharged, I tried once more. ¡°Illusion,¡± I said. I tried gathering this energy which I could not feel or see and throwing it into the shape and image of a person, of what could form a perfect decoy. I felt my pool of spirit drain. A haze developed in the chamber, the haze approximately in the size of me, just a bit smaller than me, a lot shorter than I should have been, I think. Keeping images in my mind was proving difficult. I tried focusing harder; I was rewarded by a pinching bursting feeling at the back of my skull and by the burning taking place on my left forearm as my tattoo updated itself. Mind: 40 (+1) But no matter how hard I tried, the Illusion kept slipping from me as the energy continued to dissipate into the haze worthlessly. Spirit: 42 (+1) I needed to remind myself what people looked like. Or even my adoptive sister¨Cmy what? The more I focused on that fragment, that sliver, of a memory, the faster it slipped through my fingers, like catching water with a sieve. What did she look like? Mother, what did I look like? The panic caused my Illusion to collapse. I was forced to wait for my energy to refill before I attempted again. ¡°Illusion.¡± This time, the pinch at the back of my skull grew worse¨Calmost a burning sensation. I envisioned the haze solidifying into a human about my size, a frame, the cargo pants, the jacket, the hair, two eyes, a nose¡­ this was proving difficult without a mirror, and with my memory issues. This was too difficult! With a final groan, the haze that had almost formed dissipated into nothing. My energy had run out, completely depleted. I would have to learn my limits and practice more, or so I supposed. I tried again once a minute passed and my energy reserves had refilled. I tried envisioning a person once again, though the details were difficult. I knew what people looked like, but the specifics, unless it was Nick, were difficult to recall, exactly. Regardless, I pushed forward, trying to focus on a generic humanoid shape. ¡°Illusion.¡± Once again, I felt the pinch and burn coming from the back of my head. As though my brain were expanding, or growing hotter, and a pressure formed against my skull and neck. Once again, my left arm burned. Mind: 41 (+1) I pushed through it. The haze formed more quickly this time. I focused harder, trying to shove more energy out, but it failed to work. I should have enough, I could form an aura about myself about the same size. Why was it not enough, what was I missing? Once more, I exhausted my energy reserves and was forced to pause as I recharged. Another failure. But my left arm marked the progress. Spirit: 43 (+1) I tried once more. While the headache was lessening, I was never able to solidify the person sized haze into anything useful. Concerned that the ooze would show up sooner rather than later, I abandoned that particular experiment and decided to go with what I could do best. A human sized blur. If I had magical powers, then it stands to reason others did too. And if others had powers, then they might be able to obscure themselves similarly to how I did. With my new strategy, I once again began to experiment. I formed a familiar me sized blur and held it in a fixed location while I stepped away. I could possibly hold this form for about a half a minute. And there was something missing from it. I circled it, tapping a finger to my chin. Then it came to me. It had a tail and long ears on top. I focused on removing those, which was more difficult than it should have been, and I felt that familiar ache in the back of my head and on my left arm. Mind: 42 (+1) I had just run out of energy by the time I had gotten rid of the tail. Once my energy returned, I reformed the Illusion where it had faded from, and this time removed the ears. Now, with an approximate human sized blur, I began practicing making it move, taking steps. I pictured people walking, the gait, and tried to mimic that. And while I had seen tons of people walking, when I tried doing this, I realized that I had never really paid attention, like detailed attention, to the way a gait was supposed to look like. I kept trying though, until I exhausted myself, feeling the burning growth stretching along my left arm. Mind: 43 (+1) I thought I had it now. I tried again, forming a human shaped image about the size of a teenager. I had it walk forward in a stiff unnatural ethereal gait, but still an almost walk. If anyone were to catch up to it, to examine it, they would find the gait disgusting and horrifying. But they would have to catch it first. I sent the form across the room to the next hallway, until I lost sight. Once it went around the corner, the Illusion ended. I needed to keep the Illusion in my own line of sight. A limitation. Though one I could work with. In my mind, for ease, I labeled this new pattern as [Clone]. Before I could practice [Clone] further, I heard the familiar dreadful gurgle. The ooze. Its tendrils reached into the room across from me, dragging its mass forward. It was time to go, [Clone] would have to do. I headed towards the exit, only slowing to a crouch once I could see the light of the outdoors, and a few of the gnolls standing guard. The ooze was somewhere behind me, gurgling and dragging itself forward, making that squelching sliding noise that left my ears flat against my head. I needed [Clone] to work. But I might not have enough time. Swearing internally, I did some addition, and figured I would need two minutes. That might not be enough. But it would have to do. ¡°Illusion.¡± [Clone], I formed a shadow of a child sized humanoid beside me. I sent it forward at an impossible sprint that failed to match its steps. It moved yards for every step it took. The moment my Illusion exited the den, stepping into the night, the gnolls took notice. They barked. As the [Clone] ran past them, the den mother barked, ¡°Chase!¡± and several gnolls gave chase, springing after it on all fours. The Illusion jagged left, flying just over the ground, in an obscene imitation of running. I sent it towards the hill. Once it reached the craggy slope, with the gnolls in pursuit, the Illusion hit the limit of how far I could send it that direction, range limitation. Rather than having it stop moving altogether, I began bringing it back towards me but also up the slope of the hill, keeping it just out of reach of the pursuing gnolls. They began scrambling up the hillside, and I was coming to a limit of how long I could keep the Illusion running. As soon as it was behind a dip in the hillside to break line of sight with the gnolls, I terminated the Illusion. Illusion: 4/9 (+1) Unfortunately, while several of the gnolls had given chase, the den mother and two others had kept vigil by the entrance. The den mother¡¯s eyes were too sharp, seeming to pierce the shadows of the cavern. My distraction had only partially succeeded, and now my energy pool was empty, though it was refilling, slowly. A faint gurgling came from behind me, echoing slightly down the tunnel. It could have been my imagination, but I doubted it. It was coming. The den mother¡¯s eyes narrowed, ¡°ready!¡± the den mother scolded her brethren. The gurgle came closer. I could almost feel the ooze¡¯s tendrils; I swore I felt a slight breeze tickled my tail. I hoped it was just the wind. But the wind had yet to blow in the tunnels. The air currents had been stale. Which meant that motions¡¯ source had been the ooze. I shuddered. Time to go. Regardless of how much spiritual energy I now had. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Illusion.¡± [Chameleon]¡¯s color matching blur formed around me, a haze to obscure any watchful eyes, such as the den mother¡¯s. With what limited protections I could provide myself, I crouched forward. I kept low, mindful of my talon like toenails, keeping them off the stone floor, keeping on the pads of my feet. It was a struggle. The floor was littered with debris, each loose rock waiting for a misstep to send it clattering. While at the same time, I watched den mother¡¯s face for any signs that she saw me. And through all of that, I kept my ears peeled for the incoming ooze. Splitting my attention proved difficult. The perpetual headache did not help. Nor did the burning left arm. Mind: 44 (+1) Just as I finished exiting the den, stepping out beneath the overhanging basalt slabs, the den mother¡¯s eyes narrowed. The seemed to focus on where I was, where my [Chameleon] should be obscuring me in camouflage matching the stone and shadows around me. I should have been practically invisible beneath the night sky. But perhaps it was the movement? Or perhaps¨C ¡°Hear that¡­ ?¡± the Den Mother barked. ¡°It come!¡± I held my breath and froze, just a second. Long enough to hear the gurgle just behind me, less than two yards. Within tendril range. Not good. Before the first slimy tendril could seize me, I slipped to the side of the outside of the tunnel, still beneath the stone overhang; only scant few feet separated me from the ooze. The gnolls that had been chasing after the imaginary human were now returning to guard the entrance in a vigil alongside their den mother. My chance to slip out was coming to an end. I needed to make my move soon, or not at all. But the most dangerous part was circling out around the little alcove of basalt. I bit my tongue and crouched even lower; I crawled forward around the corner of the stone wall. ¡°Ready!¡± the Den Mother barked. My heart jumped at her sudden call of alarm. The world seemed to slow, or my thoughts sped up. Had I been made? EIther I had been made and I needed to leave immediately. Or I had not, and another entity had arrived that would cause the Den Mother to call alarm. Since the only other entity that could have caused that was the ooze, I decided that either way, I had best leave. But in terms of fleeing, I lacked horizontal solutions. I could not go forward, nor backwards, and to the side was a basalt wall. Up it is, then. I sank my claws into the stone, molding a perfect temporary handhold, and I twisted around completely and scaled upwards, quickly ascending to the top of the wall, near the stone overhang. The den mother¡¯s eyes drifted upwards to where I had crouched in the shadows. I should have been near impossible to see in the dim light, especially shrouded in my Illusion. I was well hidden. Now I could watch, safely out of reach. Athleticism (2/9) (+1): Climbing (4/9) (+1) ¡°Human?¡± the den mother barked in question. Then with more accusation and venom, ¡°human!¡± she snarled. I perhaps had been too confident in my Illusion. Not that it would matter overly, not with the gnolls distracted by the incipient battle with the ooze, but it would have been better to remain unobserved. The den mother had bigger worries than little old me. In response to the den mother¡¯s accusatory call, the gnolls had taken their eyes off the tunnel at a very inopportune time. The ooze gurgled and flowed out of the tunnel, spearing its tendrils towards the gnolls. Realizing her mistake, the den mother shrieked in warning and yanked the nearest gnoll back by the scruff of their neck. In that moment of distraction, I did not wait to see how the conflict would end. I took advantage and fled. Keeping low to the ground, I took off running along the craggy hillside, covering myself in a [Blur] whenever my energy returned. Spirit: 44 (+1) I tried to ignore the angry barks and the pained whines and whimpers as the gnolls confronted the ooze. Through no fault of my own, the ooze had attacked the gnolls. I was blameless. The ooze could have very well been there coincidentally. But even if that nagging source of guilt were accurate, and it was somehow my fault (which it was not), why should I feel bad? The gnolls were the enemy. They had pursued¨Chunted¨Cme. Now, the gnolls were in a hopeless fight against a devouring black ooze¡­ I could not help but feel doubts and guilt. But, despite these doubts, it was not as though I could help them. Even if I could, they would simply attack me; I remembered the carcasses of humanoids hanging in their pantry. No, I should feel no guilt. The gnolls were practically cannibals. I continued fleeing. I put enough space between me and them through the hills, and I doubled back on my trail, zig-zagging often enough to throw off my trail, that I felt sure I would be safe taking a moment¡¯s respite. I found a hiding place on a hill overlooking another valley, overlooking a path that the gnolls had made. It was easy for me to watch below, but with me behind the rocks, it would be difficult for anyone below to see me above. Stealth (1/9): Trackless Tracks (3/9) With safety partially assured, I rested, and I finally took that time to look through my tattoos and figure out just what had happened to my Talents¡­ and the results of all the unpleasant itching and burning on both arms. The artwork had grown, stretching a little further across the bottoms of both forearms, the ink visible even through the lilac fur covering my limbs. Artwork was a generous term for the swirling glyphs and patterns. Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: The new Talent, Traceless Tracks, left me with a deeper understanding of it. The Talent impressed me, at least if the vague feelings I received from the rune were correct. Traceless Tracks made me untrackable. No footprints, which meant ghosting over the ground. No scent trail, which would have been good to know before running miles and criss crossing my own trail to lose the gnolls. No fingerprints or residue or magical trackers. I was now untraceable. It¡­ it was powerful, inexplicable magic that hurt my head to think about. My other gains had been impressive as well. But pursuing these gains had not been my incentive for my little venture. The gains were nice, certainly, but I had gone into that den searching supplies. Food. Water. With that in mind, I tried the flagon still slung around my chest. I popped the cork and sniffed the opening. It was not water, but it smelled decent. I took a sip. The flavor washed over my tongue. A hint of a burn. Good. My lower back began twitching, and a shift in momentum caused my hips to minutely shift back and forth. To my embarrassment, when I looked behind me to find the cause, I saw my tail wagging. Wagging! Like a dog! If not for the flagon, and other incentives, I might have indulged in self-harm then and there. But I resisted. Perhaps I could find a use for this tail. And, now that I had time to appreciate it, it was a rich color, and the fur appeared lush. Though lilac had never been my color. I could use it though. Yes. Not all was lost. Besides, no one was there to see this embarrassment. I opened the liberated knapsack: it looked fit for an explorer, made of brown canvas and leather with brass buttons holding it closed. Opening it, I began looking through my stolen loot. In some ways, there was excitement, but in others, disappointment. The knapsack was absent useful supplies. To quell my growing frustration, I imbibed with another pull from my flagon. The liquid was just the right level of spicy and sweet, delicious. My mood temporarily emboldened, I continued exploring the contents. There was a glass vial of solid luminescent silver. It glowed, and left my fingers tingling when I lifted the corked vial. That was not the only item that glowed. For there were also metal coins, all the same size, with numbers and holes in the middle filled with pressed crystals. The crystals sometimes glowed, and sometimes not. The coins must have been a currency, which made them valuable, if I could find anyone to purchase from. It also meant there was civilization, somewhere, waiting for me with baths and beds and restaurants and mansions. However, besides that rich fantasy, there was mostly disappointment. I found no bedroll or blanket; the backpack lacked rations and basic hiking supplies. It contained oddities, however, such as an egg-like rock of obsidian, or, a gun made of bronze tubes and a bulky handle. Of course there was no ammunition for said gun. And I doubted I could figure out how to work the mechanics of the object easily. It might not have even been a gun. With several levers along the side, along with the trigger, I could not be certain how it worked. Which was a shame. A weapon would have been incredibly useful. However, without knowing how to use it, and without familiarity or practice, the weapon was a liability. I put it away and focused on the strange egg instead. It was the last curiosity that the knapsack contained. It looked like an egg made of obsidian, with a glyph of glowing silver painted over it. The glyph roughly looked like a canine face encircled by a serpent, but the overall style was too artistic for this impression to be certain. The object felt valuable and left my teeth aching. Which was strange. I had not tried chewing it or biting it, as it was akin to a rock, but yet, my jaw ached. Strange. I had questions about the liberated supplies and gear, but I stowed them all, as there was nothing more I could do. Another pull from the flagon. I felt warm and better than I had since I landed here. While I luxuriated, rolling the spice over my tongue, I heard the gnolls barking from the distance. I covered myself in [Chameleon] and shifted to a vantage spot to watch. The den mother was leading a pack of gnolls, maybe fifteen of them. They appeared battle worn and weary, but their yips and barks carried anger and fury. They raced along on all fours, covering the rocky ground quickly, following the path along the valley bed up towards a distant plume of smoke. This was interesting. Because while it was unclear what they pursued, they looked like they were headed towards a fight. Now at first, I worried that perhaps they were pursuing me. But if they were, it could not have been by scent, since I had Traceless Tracks. So the question remained, where were they headed? The den mother had thought I was a human. And if she thought humans had led the ooze to attack them, that humans had robbed them, then perhaps she was leading her pack towards vengeance. That meant there were other humans out there, and the gnolls were heading towards them. Maybe. Humans meant civilization. Another pull from the flagon. I considered following the gnolls. It was risky, certainly. Were they even headed towards humans? There might have been a larger gnoll encampment somewhere out there. Or, they could simply be searching for me. But the possibility of civilization. Humans. The decision was easy. Ingestion 1.2.X Nathaniel, Solo Inquisitor Nathaniel Vininson, pushed his way through the cramped entryway and strode into the Lowers with purpose. The Lowers was a hub for the assets, the trained Forsworn, and where alchemicals were mixed to further that training. Hidden deep beneath the Wrecca Tower, one could argue that this chamber was one of the most central, most important, and most critical spaces of the Inquisitors. Hence, his continued ire, that the space had been turned to a laboratory and assigned to a civilian technical administrator. And an irritating one at that. As Nathaniel entered, careful not to brush against any of the glassware, active or no, he found that technical administrator prepping distilling one of those very alchemicals, likely one of the addictive stimulants used to improve asset performance. But, what was being mixed failed to matter in light of the summons that Nathaniel had received. ¡°What and why?¡± Nathaniel demanded, all while glaring at the tech. The tech, an androgynous type, wore their hair split down the center, with one half shorn, and the other half spiky. Of course, the tips of what hair they did have was dyed in a garish purple. Assorted flasks and stands littered the lab table, along with a notebook with scribbled annotations along with a much more orderly and printed schedule. ¡°Just a sec,¡± they said. Nathaniel glared, but remained silent. Some of the flasks would be quite volatile¨Cnormal, regular people, never knew with Alchemists. Even the Crown sponsored ones. Afterall, it was thanks to an alchemist that he had received his concessions. And he had been one of the luckier ones. He shuddered, and turned his attention instead to his irritation at being forced to hurry up and wait. Earlier that morning, a runner had awoken Nathaniel in the hours before dawn. And the night previous had not been restful. He had returned late from scouting the northern chasm, and when he did return, his cot did not soothe him. Afterall, his concessions were large and broad, weighed heavily upon him, and forced him to sleep upon his belly, like a worm. The sacrifices we make, he thought grimly. The tech finally bottled their latest flask and turned off their burner, and Nathaniel broached the subject once more. ¡°What did your asset give you, this time?¡± Nathaniel asked, barely keeping the scorn from his voice. The assets, the Forsworn, the reason that he was forced to make any concessions at all. The tech jotted a date and time on the schedule and set the bottled concoction to the side. They spoke as they wrote. ¡°I already passed it all up the chain. I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re here at all, actually.¡± ¡°Why would I not seek news directly from the source?¡± Nathaniel asked, furrowing his brow. ¡°Yeah, but why? It can¡¯t be easy to get down here¡­¡± the tech trailed off, glancing up and seeing Nathaniel¡¯s increasingly fierce glare. ¡°Just tell me what your pet has said,¡± Nathaniel said, with a voice not devoid of scorn. ¡°-assets, man,¡± the tech said. ¡°People, not pets.¡± ¡°Why? Because while you sit here training them like pets, I risk life and limb. If squeezing my way down through cramped passages and awful elevators helps prepare me further for what¡¯s to come, then certainly I shall do so. Do you disagree with my motive?¡± He finished with a raised brow. ¡°Nah, that checks man.¡± The tech shook their head, chuckling. ¡°But it was Cassandra this time. You know her procedures.¡± Revulsion. Utter revulsion swept through him at the mention of the false but true oracle¡¯s name. ¡°No,¡± he uttered, almost without thought. ¡°Look, my hands are tied. I shouldn¡¯t be telling you anything. It goes up then comes down, anonymously.¡± Then, as though throwing Nathaniel a bone, as though Nathaniel were a trained jackal, the tech added, ¡°I feel for you man, I do. But¨C¡± ¡°That is Inquisitor Nathaniel to you!¡± Nathaniel growled. ¡°Do not think I have failed to notice your humanization of those things!¡± ¡°Fine then, Inquisitor Nate¨C¡± the tech said neutrally, bored almost. Irreverence. Nathaniel grit his teeth and grimaced, wondering if he could get away with murder. Likely not. Crown sponsored alchemists were difficult to come by. And besides, it was very likely that the alchemist had several vile concoctions ready to deploy, from vaporous acids to inflammable tars. Alchemists could be quite the menace. ¡°Look, I¡¯m not in your chain of command,¡± the tech said. ¡°But, as far as assets go, I would think that you would be a little more understanding, considering¨C¡± they gave a meaningful glance towards Nathaniel¡¯s concessions. ¡°The nerve!¡± Nathaniel spat. ¡°Do not compare me to those Forsworn!¡± ¡°Look! I know, I get it.¡± The tech held up his hands to ward off the insult that they had just bandied about like a trite candy a parademaster would throw to children. Nathaniel growled. ¡°I am nothing like them!¡± ¡°Bad example!¡± the tech said, exasperatedly. ¡°But discrimination is discrimination, yeah?¡± ¡°Not comparable,¡± he bit out. ¡°The Forsworn are called that for a reason.¡± ¡°Nevermind! Forget I said anything, alright? It was a lousy comparison. What were we talking about beforehand, the prophecy, right? That¡¯s what you wanted? I might be able to swing some deets.¡± Which would break protocol, technically. But knowing the details would certainly be worth something, especially since he would be the one to track down whatever it was the oracle had foreseen. ¡°Forgiven?¡± the tech asked. One of his hands had reached under the lab bench, and was undoubtedly holding either an artificed weapon or worse. ¡°Fine,¡± he bit out. ¡°What did this Cassandra say then, and when will this Cassandra be retired?¡± Nathaniel asked through clenched teeth. ¡°Cass said two persons, male and female, betrayed humanity and swore themselves to an entity. In the wastes north of Southbridge. She didn¡¯t know which entity, or anything about the suspects other than that. Curious that they just showed up out there though. Considering.¡± ¡°Bandits maybe?¡± Nathaniel asked out loud, before shaking his head. ¡°And two? What entity could afford that?¡± He already wanted to doubt Cassandra¡¯s prophecy. And yes, he knew¨Che knew¨Cthat her cursed oracles carried a poison of doubt which infected everyone that heard them. But even knowing that poison¡¯s effect, he still could not help but doubt the prophecy. There was a reason Forsworn were loathed¡­ well, other than the implicit Heresy. ¡°It¡¯s what she saw,¡± the tech shrugged. ¡°She was able to point it out on a map. Passed it up to Sergeant Slewth.¡± Growing bored with the conversation, the tech had moved on from writing, and was now grinding what appeared to be a dried shard of what might have, at one point, been an ulna. Nathaniel could take the tech¡¯s presence no more. The alchemicals, the nearness to the cursed assets, they left him wanting to cringe, and in Inquisitor of the Crown could never be seen as weak. It would be better for him to leave abruptly. ¡°Very well.¡± Nathaniel started to go, but then paused. The tech had just been doing his job. And while irreverent, it did take a different sort to do that job. And perhaps, Nathaniel should avoid burning the relationship which may prove fruitful once more. Besides, it was common courtesy. ¡°Thank you,¡± Nathaniel said, adding the words of polite fiction over his shoulder. ¡°Yeah sure, no prob.¡± The tech hardly paid attention to Nathaniel, or so he thought. But then, as Nathaniel walked away, the tech called after, ¡°Oh, and Inquisitor?¡± ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°You got a little something¨C¡± the tech said, pointing to their own neckline, just beneath the chin. Nathaniel reached up to his own and brushed his skin. Through the leather tips of his gauntlets, his touch was greatly reduced, but he felt the tell-tale bristle as his finger passed by a spot. Another one. This time, he did sigh. It seemed that the deviations were increasing in frequency. He gripped the offender and yanked it out, wincing only slightly as it pulled deep from the skin, follicles and all, and trailed just a few droplets of blood. A brown, almost gold, feather. ¡°Thank you,¡± Nathaniel said once more, this time meaning it. He left, crushing the feather and grinding it to paste. ¡°Sure sure, anytime,¡± the tech called after him. ¡°Gotta stick together, right!¡± Nathaniel cringed at the words and hurried out, squeezing once more through the stone arches, down a narrow bricked hallway, and finally to the elevator. He pulled the call bell. And he waited. It took a while for the elevator to reach the Lowers. Especially if the meorhs were feeling lazy. But he had an appointment with Sergeant Slewth, and lateness would not be appreciated. At least not on the Inquisitor¡¯s part. Finally, after what felt an eternity, the elevator finally reached all the way down to the Lower Atrium. He slid aside the metal grating and folded himself the best he could into the cramped space. It did not leave much room for his concessions, but given that the stairs were even more cramped and narrow, this elevator was the lesser of two sins. He rang the upper bell five times, signaling the floor he needed. One of the upper administration floors, with a view of the city. The car groaned as it slowly began lifting. Not because of Nathaniel¡¯s weight¨Che was actually light for his size. No, it must have been the meohrs. Perhaps a half-team. Or a lax operator. Nathanield counted off the minutes while the meohrs pulled the narrow and too small box up. He tapped his foot impatiently. He did not weigh that much. The elevator lurched to a stop prematurely, at the Archives, just below the first basement. ¡°What now,¡± Nathaniel bit out, glaring expectantly at the foyer outside of the grating. Per courtesy, he ought to have opened the gate for the other passenger and squeezed himself even further into a corner of the car. But, not today, and not to some scholar. ¡°Sorry?¡± A woman said, speaking through the grate from where she had halted the elevator. She was holding down the call cord, signaling the operator to stop, and holding the elevator where it was. Per courtesy, she should not have done so. An obvious slight against him, and one he lacked the soft power to correct, except with a glare. Though that glare, despite his best menace, appeared to have no effect. She was unruffled. Also, she was very well put together for a scholar. Perhaps, she was a noble. Definitely Marked. With no obvious deviations. But then again, he might not have been able to tell. Very little of her skin showed: she was wearing a conservative black dress with a wide red choker that covered her neck. With her sleeved gloves and high boots, the only skin she showed was her face, and even that was partially obscured by thick goggles. And those goggles! Who wore those in a library? ¡°Going up?¡± she asked, smirking, and watching him and his concessions with clear amusement. She must have known she would not have fit. It would not have been a comfortable trip. Did she expect him to give up his spot on the elevator? Confound these nobles! He decided to return her poor manners with his own. ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°Not currently.¡± He nodded towards the cord, which she still was pulling down, confusing the elevator¡¯s operator. She smirked. And stood there. Holding the cord. A minute passed. Then another. ¡°There is no room,¡± he said simply. ¡°And I have a meeting. Can you please let go of that?¡± She looked at him, then at his back, where his concessions to the Crown laid as folded up as they could. ¡°I mean, I could squeeze in,¡± she said, still grinning with painted lips. Who put on makeup for a trip to the library? Insanity, he decided. ¡°Can you not just wait?!¡± he demanded, getting fed up with the day, and perhaps, perhaps, just a fraction more irritable than he normally ought to have been. ¡°I could,¡± she said, pursing her lips. ¡°Or we can get close, and personal¡­¡± she added in a faux husky voice. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. He groaned in frustration. ¡°Will today just not end already!¡± That seemed to set her aback. And she almost, almost, appeared to let go of the cord. She laughed, shaking her head. ¡°Normally I don¡¯t get that reaction,¡± she said. ¡°A lady could be offended¡­¡± Muledung. Now he had stepped in it. ¡°Apologies,¡± he said stiffly. ¡°I have had little sleep. But I truly am in a hurry. So if you would not mind?¡± ¡°How about this,¡± she said with a wry smile, as though she had already gotten the best of the conversation. And perhaps, she had. ¡°You tell me what¡¯s got you bothered, and I¡¯ll let you go.¡± He considered ignoring her, but he was in a hurry, and it would make little difference if he told anyone about the prophecy. He would quickly resolve the situation before any but the fleetest of messengers could spread the word so far as Southbridge, and even if they could beat him there, which they could not, them passing the news would make no difference anyways. ¡°Fine,¡± he bit out. ¡°Allegedly, two Forsworn appeared near Southbridge.¡± ¡°Forsworn¡­¡± she thought aloud. ¡°As in Godsmarked?¡± ¡°Ugh,¡± he sneered. ¡°No. Forsworn. There are no gods. To claim otherwise. In this tower?¡± he scoffed. The woman was mad. He was an Inquisitor, for the Crown¡¯s sake! And while she technically had broken no laws with that terminology, it was just not done. Like holding down the call bell. This woman. ¡°Yes yes, whatever,¡± she said, waving off his offense, as though words did not matter. ¡°Which god¨Cno, entity, that¡¯s what you call them right? Which entity was it then?¡± she asked. ¡°Does it matter?¡± He said with his usual scowl. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± she hummed, tapping her lips with a gloved hand. ¡°Yes. Of course it matters. It matters a lot.¡± Truth. Different entities provided different Marks, and different curses. Knowing which one beforehand would be useful. Except that had not come with the prophecy. But there was no reason to tell this woman that. Instead, he leveled a dead glare at her, indifferent to her insults, letting it wash off him. What was one more, afterall? She continued thinking, tapping her lips. Finally, after another minute, she deemed herself satisfied and she released the handle on the call bell. The elevator shuddered, and slowly, ever so slowly, began crawling upwards, even slower than before. It took a while for the woman to pass out of view. She even gave a small finger wave as the elevator went up. As soon as the Archives were out of view, and that woman, he let out another gusty sigh. ¡°What an irksome person,¡± he grumbled. After what felt like an eternity, he finally squeezed himself from the elevator and onto the fifth floor. The hallways were no more spacious here, as Wrecca Tower had been constructed for defense rather than convenience. Not that he could blame the designers, but there had been no serious contention since the Shattering. Surely, a remodel would not be amiss? But these were not the thoughts for one of his station nor rank. Eventually, he reached his destination. The door to Sergeant Slewth¡¯s office. Nathaniel released a long breath. He had to do this, see his commanding officer. He had to. He had faced down horrors. He could do this. He knocked upon the thick and veneered door. ¡°If that¡¯s you Nate, then come in.¡± Sergeant Slewth¡¯s whiny voice set Nathaniel¡¯s nerves on edge. And that was before the use of Nathaniel¡¯s nickname, which only Slewth used. But what could Nathanield do but grit his teeth and obey? Just another concession, he reminded himself. All for the Crown. ¡°Yes, Sergeant?¡± Nathaniel asked, squeezing most of himself through the doorway and attempting a poor form of attention. The sergeant slid a waxed paper package across his desk towards Nathaniel. ¡°Take it and get out. You have one week. Dismissed.¡± Nathaniel winced. That was not ideal. ¡°But sir, it takes half a week just to travel to Southbridge, and that is at my fastest. Not including time to search.¡± ¡°Are these excuses?¡± the sergeant asked, bored. ¡°No, sir, but¨C¡± ¡°And are you not our fleetest inquisitor?¡± the sergeant added. ¡°Yes¡­¡± Nathaniel admitted, his pride warring with the fact that a single week was not feasible! But there would be no arguing with the sergeant. ¡°Then there should be no problems. Dismissed, Inquisitor. Get those abominations out from my office.¡± ¡°Yes sir,¡± Nathaniel said, before walking backwards out from the office. As he had never fully brought his concessions into the office, he could not simply turn around and leave. No, he was forced to step backwards. Before Nathaniel full exited, he snapped a salute; But other than a snort, the sergeant returned nothing, going back to whatever his artificed tablet showed. Humiliating. But at least the meeting was over. And he was now free, at least for a week. A grin may have escaped past his stern countenance as he stepped out from the tower. Because he was free, and not even the polluted air sweeping up from Kwyntral could break his mood. Regardless, the city and its quirks would soon be behind him. He let out a shrill whistle as he walked through the tower¡¯s courtyard. He climbed the stairs leading up to the unguarded walls surrounding Wrecca Tower. Once he reached the battlements, he let loose another shrill whistle. Minutes later his familiar joined him, swooping down to land on crumbling stone, that stone further cracking beneath her talons. His familiar, Ern, a golden eagle. Truly a mighty creature. Her coloration matched his own, which made sense, in a way. She regarded him with her intelligent eyes. ¡°Ready, Ern?¡± he asked. She clicked her beak, bobbed her head. ¡°Of course you are,¡± he said, chuckling and shaking his head. ¡°Right. Let¡¯s go.¡± He spread his concessions out behind him. They stretched three yards in each direction, left and right. They were wide, sprouting from the length of his mutated back. They were gold and feathered, and from a distant perspective, they might have been regarded as beautiful. Perhaps even angelic, from times of old. Which was part of the problem. Better to have bat-wings. Or none at all. Ern shrieked and pecked his jerkin. He nodded at the raptor¡¯s sage advice. ¡°But best not to dwell,¡± he agreed. Instead, with his wings outstretched, he thought strongly of the shared glyph between him and her, their bond, and his spell. ¡°Wind.¡± He activated his sole spell he had received from his familiar. They could not maintain it forever, but while it lasted, it granted much acceleration, perfect for vertical takeoffs. Per his will, air began to cycle around him, pushing upwards against his wings, abruptly carrying his feet off the ground. His wings, like sails, caught the updraft; he soared. A laugh escaped his lips. Then another. Ern circled around him, also taking advantage of the updraft. By the time the spell ended, they were almost a mile above the land, just below the Firmament. At this height, all the problems seemed trivial and small. But he still had his duty. For the Crown. He began gliding southward. After three days of travel, he spotted an unusual valley. It was a crater filled with green, a supremely rare sight. Nothing grew in the wastes, not without a core. And no cores were out this far, at least not Marked ones. A significant seed, highly illegal. Treasonous, definitely. But not quite heresy. Still, he circled in the air, taking note. Several questionable persons tended to a pond in the middle of the crater. A strange pond. It was yellow. And some organic construction, a waxen one, spread upwards from its center. Just what were they doing here? If not for his current task, he would have led a much more violent inquiry to discover just that. But as it was, he had a sequestration to perform. And for the sake of the Crown, he prioritized. Forsworn first, traitors after. So he made a note of it and continued south. And he made more notes, for each of the additional criminal camps that he spotted. And monster burrows. And a single dungeon offshoot. The wastes were truly lawless. But impossible to completely police. So long as it was kept in check though, and never threatened civilization, these aberrations and reprobates were begrudgingly tolerated. It would have been impossible to catch them all anyways. Even for him. Flight could only grant so many perks before some enterprising scav shot him or Ern down. He crossed the highway running from Southbridge to Bath, which he followed for another day, passing over two caravans laden with hopefully legal goods. He might have checked, had he not had more pressing issues. Eventually, he found the canyon that the oracle had marked. He circled it, finding no obvious signs of life. He landed, while Ern continued overwatch. He kicked a stone along the bottom of the canyon, inspecting the old and dried bones. None of them were fresh. But nobody was there. Even though his gut told him the entire trip was a waste, he marched the length of the canyon, searching for any signs of the Forsworn. And near a tarpit, he did. Signs of a scuffle. Interestingly enough, from that same tarpit, a Tar Fiend¡¯s had crawled out, and left a trail of slime the length of the canyon. Irregular behavior. Tar Fiends seldom left their demesnes. They quickly exhausted their substance and preferred damp environs. How or why the Tar Fiend left its home, Nathaniel did not know. But he felt certain the Forsworn were involved. He had a lead. A day later, Nathaniel found the Tar Fiend. Following the slime trail had not been difficult, though it had crossed itself several times; the Tar Fiend had seemingly wandered aimlessly. Perhaps part of the Forsworn¡¯s ¡®gift?¡¯ He would take care to avoid becoming lost. Regardless, he saw no immediate evidence of any person besides the Tar Fiend. That did not mean that a person was not nearby. Rather than charging in for immediate battle, he held off, remaining aloft, observing. ¡°What do you perceive?¡± he asked Ern, as the eagle¡¯s eyes were far better than his, even with his enhancements. The golden eagle made a show of scanning the broken shattered ground, before shrieking. A negative then. Ern saw nothing suspect. ¡°It really is just a Tar Fiend then?¡± he asked, more to himself than anyone else. Perhaps the Tar Fiend was the Forsworn? Unusual. Perhaps the Tar Fiend had swallowed the Forsworn and done Middens a favor? But only the most idiot of persons would go near a Tar Fiend, at least not without countermeasures. ¡°Regardless, we need to verify.¡± But the question was how to verify. Ern shrieked. ¡°Yes of course,¡± he answered. ¡°Killing it. Genius!¡± he smiled at Ern. The eagle chuffed and descended, circling a hundred yards above the Tar Fiend. He of course, went closer. He would have to, in order to kill it. As he neared, flying lower, the very size of the Tar Fiend impressed him. It did not seem reduced at all for its travels. Either it had started at a tremendous size, or a Forsworn¡¯s curse was at play. The Tar Fiend would die. But how? Tar Fiends could not be slain by steel. No sworn nor spear nor arrow would do. Only spells and alchemicals. Fortunately, he had just the thing. He landed on a rock overlooking the Tar Fiend as it gurgled below him. Not more than ten yards separated them now. This was near enough. ¡°Wind.¡± He called the first rank of his spell. Air gathered per his will, swirling around the Tar Fiend. It stopped crawling forward, instead sending out tendrils all around it, tasting the air, searching for whoever caused the disturbance. ¡°Pressure.¡± He called the second rank of his spell. That same air now began pushing down, compressing around the Tar Fiend, forming a barrier. An invisible force pushed down on the fiend, compressing it, and leaving much air in the area. The fiend sent out tendrils, but it was for naught. Its surface rippled under the strain. But still, this would not be enough to kill it. Next he drew his arcbow, an advanced, armless version of a crossbow, artificed and powered by a Hundred C. He flicked the toggle from piercing to incendiary, though the toggle was misleading. Both piercing and incendiary relied upon heat to deliver their damage, but one cooked a pinprick through and through, while the other left a broad surface of energy, typically resulting in a flash of flame, at least assuming the material was combustible. Fortunately, Tar Fiends were mildly combustible. Especially with pressurized air circulating around them. He aimed down the sights, using two hands to hold his weapon. Not for the recoil, for there was none. No, two hands to help aim. Arcbows were notoriously finicky and inaccurate. But oh so useful The trigger depressed. A hum vibrated the arcbow. The air between him and the Tar Fiend shimmered. And then there was flame. A fiery inferno left the surrounding waste flickering, light spreading so far as the bottom of the Firmament. Shadows reversed across his forehead and his wings. The Fiend popped and shrieked as moisture escaped, writhing and reducing as thick caustic smoke escaped off it and swept up in a cyclone as a monument to its demise. Glorious. It took a better part of an hour for the Tar Fiend to expire. The specimen had been unusually large, but it had also followed atypical behavior. When it had finally finished burning, he hopped down to examine the puddle and soot. Kicking through the remains, he did find an item of interest. A fleshy, dirty, pulsating pustule. Which was notable, as it should have burnt off with the rest of the Tar Fiend. And that Tar Fiends were made of Tar, not flesh. The pustule had veins branching out from it, almost growing, albeit slowly. He poked it with a knife. The metal clinked off something inside it. Oh. Oh ho ho. He chuckled. He knew what this was. A portion of him was tempted to feed it to Ern¨Cshe would never need to hunt again. But¡­ no. His mission. This was a future asset. An important one. The lower levels of the dungeons were very dangerous, afterall. And Liches were easy to motivate, assuming one had their crystal heart. So, rather than tossing the regrowing meat to Ern, he wrapped the object tightly in a metallic cloth, then tied it even more tightly. It would take a while for the Forsworn to grow through that. He placed it in his satchel and took to the skies once more. Despite the success, there was still more to do. There should have been two. There had been two. But he had no way of finding the second. But still, he had one. The oracle might have been wrong. Crown, he wished it so. And even if not, perhaps the single Forsworn would be enough to satisfy? He hoped. In vain, he knew. A vain hope. He flew back to Kwyn. The journey took the better part of another week. He only had to scrape the recovering flesh off the sides of the tied mesh bag twice. It was gross. The first thing he did upon arriving was take the same elevator down to the Lowers and drop off the fleshy forsworn bits, still regenerating. The same tech worked their alchemicals, this time working on what could have been a yellow, slimy tentacle. ¡°What is that?¡± Inquisitor Nathaniel asked, referring to the tentacle that the tech had just shoved into a mostly dead marmot. ¡°Side project,¡± they said. ¡°What did you bring?¡± they asked, looking up and covering the writhing tentacle and whimpering, vivisected animal with a sheet. ¡°One Lich heart. But truly, what is¡­ that?¡± The marmot was still whimpering, and Nathaniel felt an almost instinctual uneasiness from whatever that tendril was. ¡°A sample from a Wyrkwik,¡± they answered. ¡°But weren¡¯t there supposed to be two Forsworn?¡± ¡°Only one. Perhaps your asset was finally wrong?¡± ¡°Or maybe one got away, yeah?¡± ¡°Let us hope not. There was an abnormal Tar Fiend. It may have consumed the second.¡± ¡°Huh. What a way to go¡­¡± the tech stared off into space, before shrugging, and pushing the Lich heart to the side of his table. ¡°Thanks for that. I figure out an infusion for it. You off for the day then? It¡¯s been a long couple of weeks, yeah?¡± ¡°I only wish,¡± he sighed, wearily. He felt marginally more friendly, having flown so recently. But that mood could not last. Hence the sigh. ¡°But no, I must check in with the Sergent to report ill tidings.¡± ¡°Right¡­ you do that.¡± Inquisitor took one last look at the trembling sheet covering the piteous subject, shuddered, and left. This time, the elevator service came promptly. Inquisitor Nathaniel made his report. He covered the fact that only one Forsworn had been found, but that at least one Lich had been returned. ¡°You¡¯ve got those wings, but still couldn¡¯t manage to find one neophyte Forsworn?¡± Sergeant Slewth admonished. ¡°It¡¯s a failure. And here I thought I could trust you. I¡¯ll have to issue a penance. Perhaps courier duty?¡± Nathaniel winced. He hated courier duty. ¡°I¡¯ll figure something out. Dismissed. And don¡¯t go far.¡± Nathaniel hesitated before leaving. ¡°There was one more thing, Sergeant.¡± ¡°Hm?¡± the sergeant hummed disinterestedly. Again, the man was reading his tablet. Likely the city¡¯s forums. It could be addictive, if one could afford it. Nathaniel was committed now, so he pushed forward. Perhaps he could get out of his penance. ¡°While enroute, I spotted what could be a large core farm. Needless to say, an illegal one. Sizeable. Likely with a large seed.¡± ¡°How large?¡± Sarge asked, his eyes glimmering briefly with something between interest, greed, and subterfuge, before returning to a dull bored glaze. ¡°A valley, perhaps a mile in diameter.¡± ¡°That seems far fetched. But lucrative, if true.¡± ¡°It is sir!¡± Nathaniel insisted. ¡°It¡¯s in the report, I marked the location, along with several others of interest.¡± ¡°Hm. I¡¯ll take a look. Dismissed.¡± ¡°If I may speak candidly, sir?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°But¨C¡± ¡°Fine! What is it Nate?¡± Nathaniel gritted his teeth. Now was not the time to get worked up over the nickname. ¡°Let me lead a team from a local garrison. I have not had a chance to cut loose in a while.¡± The sergeant scoffed. ¡°Yes, because I should assign tasks based off your preferences?¡± Nathaniel winced. ¡°No! Crown no!¡± the sergeant scolded. ¡°Don¡¯t be daft. We¡¯ll send it to the Mercs Guild.¡± ¡°But¨C¡± ¡°Dismissed! Get out, or I¡¯ll find worse penance than courier duty. I know that Princess Marissa had need of an attendant. Perhaps you could spend a month running errands for her? Earn the Tower favor, while you learn your place?¡± Nathaniel grimaced, but remained silent. It was not worth pushing. So he saluted, a fist to his chest, and he backed out. Saluting once more as he finally exited the room. His good mood had been nice while it lasted. Ingestion 1.3.1 Following the gnolls was easy. Their trail was obvious, stinking of stress, anger, and rotten eggs. Parsing scents as emotions was coming to me, similar to learning new languages impossibly fast. Magical. I scoffed at the thought. Inexplicable phenomena did not magic make. Regardless, assuming I could count on the effects to continue, relying on this ¡®magic¡¯ would not be too foolish. Besides, what other choice did I have? The night turned to morning. The overcast never broke, but the clouds began shining with a foreboding red, as I assumed the sun rose. If this world even had a sun. How long would these clouds persist? While following the gnolls, I kept to the lower paths, and always maintained enough distance to break the sight-lines between me and them. In this broken land, not much distance was required to lose sight of someone. An advantage for me. Especially as I was following by scent, not sight. Though I recognized the possibility that they would stop, or leave a lone member behind. If they were quiet, they could ambush me. That was, if they knew I was following them. I assumed they did not. But caution led me to carefully examine each new horizon and to keep my ears open. Not that I could close them. But it was possible to ignore the sensory feedback, and there always was sound, from the wind to rocks sliding in the distance, there was always something to hear. And while I was tracking them by scent, without eyes on them, it was possible they would reach wherever they were going and conclude their business. As they were heading to presumably battle against the ¡®humans,¡¯ I did not wish to dally. Humans. Civilization! I could not help but grin, at least a little. But the way the lips pulled across my teeth felt unnatural, and quickly killed my spirits. I hoped there was a quick way to change back to human. Body: 33 (+1) It was near midday when I came into sight of them. The gnolls lurked in the shadow of a cragged and split mountainside. I counted them. At least two were missing, or hiding further. Were they scouting ahead, or were they circling behind? Unknown. I would just have to take care to limit my own exposure. I found a fresh vantage point, at a higher elevation compared to the gnolls, and I settled in to spy upon them. Behind the boulder¡¯s shadow of my spot, I set my jacket down and sat down, leaning against my knapsack, nursing the flagon. Stakeouts needed to be comfortable, but not too much so. I doubted I had to worry about the second concern. While waiting, I tried figuring out why the gnolls had settled in. It had been daylight for a while, and I knew the gnolls were nocturnal, and they had been going hard for a while, but why had they chosen now to stop? Were they taking a break? They had been pushing hard for hours, all the while without stopping. That is one possibility. But there was another reason as well, and one that refused to budge itself from the forefront of my mind, and that was that the gnolls had arrived, and were waiting for nightfall to make their move, whatever that move was. I needed to know. Just sitting and watching the gnolls would do me no favors. So after several hours, I decided to do my own reconnaissance. Sure, it was still daylight, but I had done plenty of daylight slinking around. Although that has been an urban environment, where the trick was to not stand out. A bit different in this situation. I revisited that thought a bit more. I could wait for nightfall and use the cover of darkness. That would be the safe way to go about it. But then I would be stuck waiting longer and the gnolls might not even have had a good reason to stop here. While I thought, I drained the last of the flagon. It soothed my lips and throat, and almost tricked my stomach into thinking it was full. I still had yet to decide exactly what it was that I had been drinking, but my money was on some sort of fermented juice. It was just a pity the gnolls only had one flagon hanging in their pantry. Though I suppose there had been a barrel. Should I head back to the gnoll den and raid it further? Was the ooze still there? I would hate to get cornered by that thing. If this gambit failed to pay off for me, then I would consider circling back. Afterall, if all the gnolls were here, who was guarding their stuff? Concerns for later. I got up, checked the gnolls one last time, then put my jacket back on and slunked off around the mountain, keeping low and covered, while looking for any sign of objects of interest. I hoped there was something, that I had not just wasted a night and a day for nothing. Especially when I could have been raiding the gnolls¡¯ pantry further. Why had I not done that in the first place? Foolish! But then I smelled it. My stomach grumbled and churned and felt like a gaping hole with teeth. Roasting meat. On the wind. Perhaps not so foolish afterall. The gamble might have just paid off. I was not able to see the source yet, but I was able to follow it upwind. I crouched along a nearby rise, and as I approached the ridgeline, I fell to all fours and crawled forward, nearby where a rock obstructed the cleanest line of sight. In the next valley over, there were people. People! I almost jumped down to join them right then and there. But a fact I knew well, that had been ingrained every day of a life I could no longer recall, was that people were the greatest predators and warranted every method of caution. Especially people of unknown origins and purposes. Instead of watching the gnolls, I found a new vantage to watch the humans and their camp below. Because before I went down and spoke with them, I needed intelligence. It seemed like they were living out of a ramshackle semi-permanent camp based around a mine entrance. There were several buildings made of stone and wood with loose and irregular planks forming roofs and walls. They would leak horrifically when it rained. A latrine had been set up outside of their settlement, and judging by the stench, it lacked plumbing. In one of the buildings, with two open walls and smoke billowing up, there arose a tink-tink-tink of a hammer on metal, along with the occasional grinding or scraping screech to irritate my ears, even over the wind. But most noticeable was an odd structure that almost appeared to be a weathervane, but instead of metal vanes, they were some kind of yellow immobile plastic looking material, with mist flowing around the edges, and what might have been droplets forming along the bottom. Droplets. Water. Whatever that device was, it was condensing water from the atmosphere for collection. For the second time in so many minutes, I almost ran down there, throwing caution into the wind. But I resisted and continued my observations. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Particularly of note was the piping that stretched down from the plastic vanes to a steel barrel¨Ca collection barrel. Of water. I bit my chapped lips, my canines pinching the pulp. At least I knew there were resources down there. I settled into a healthy recession that both gave me a view of the valley and sheltered me from both wind and sight. I kept my ears and nose keen for any evidence that the gnolls were on the move, and I focused on the people down below. As I waited, I practiced my Illusions. I had been inspired by [Chameleon] and [Clone], and I decided to create a more aggressive shadow. A shadow that could cover someone¡¯s face, similar to what I had pulled on Nick when he attacked me with his own spell. To practice, I focused on forming a black inky blob and moving it back and forth, almost shadowboxing, but instead of boxing, I was chasing an imaginary enemy with a consuming shadow. Even though I was imagining the enemy, predicting their movements reliably with the inky shadows was not easy. But as I practiced, I grew. Mind: 45 (+1) Spirit: 45 (+1) Illusion: 5/9 (+1) Movement down below. From the mine entrance carved into the base of the hill, a shirtless man with tan pants and black boots came marching out carrying an empty steel drum over his shoulder. He looked human, so far as I could tell. He might have been six foot, he wore a healthy beard and had vibrant black hair. He marched up to the weather vane¡¯s collection barrel and swapped it out with the drum. Given how his muscles rippled and how he strained as he moved the collection barrel, it looked plenty heavy. The man grunted something, but whatever he said was lost in the distance and the wind. He left the full collection barrel to the side and headed over to the largest ramshackle building, where the hammering came from, and that I had taken to thinking of as the workshop. The hammering stopped for a moment, before the man left the workshop, heading back towards the tunnel carrying what might have been a bronze musket. The humans were armed. Not that I blamed them, considering what I had seen of their neighbors. Though it was worth noting the differences between people and gnolls. The gnolls failed to exhibit any nature of techbase¨Cthey wore no clothes even¨Cso I had set my expectations somewhat low. That people had technology, had clothes, had luxuries, that was a serious relief. A balm to the soul. I was not alone. There was a bath waiting for me someday. But still, I continued watching down below. I could wait a bit longer, and something about the people seemed dangerous, besides the weapons that I had seen. A little while later, the hammering stopped again, and two people walked out from the workshop. One of them, in smudged plain clothing with rolled up sleeves and thick arms, wore a collar attached to a steel cable leash. The leash was held by a thick and scarred woman wearing a knife on her belt along with a possible handgun. She brought him to the lavatory and held the leash while he went in and shut the door. A minute later, the woman grew impatient and pounded on the door, shouting something. A minute after that, she pulled the door open and yanked on the leash, pulling the man out while he was still pulling up his trousers. While I watched this, a chill ran down my spine, from my neck to the base of my tail. My fur bristled, and I hissed. Slaves. These people kept slaves. And that man was not the only one. Throughout the day and into the evening, several other people came up from the cavern to use the lavatory, and I saw two other slaves, one appeared to be a collared cat person, and another was a slim child in a stained white robe. When I saw the child, my blood boiled, and my hiss grew to a growl. But I could not just head down there. These people were armed and dangerous, while I was not. An oddity however. The boy was not just taken towards the lavatory, as were the others. The boy was instead taken to the workshop, where he spent half an hour doing something, before he was taken out towards the lavatory, and finally back into the tunnel. Evening turned to dusk, and the hammering stopped for good. The slave, who was the presumed craftsperson in the workshop, was walked back to the cavern while carrying a wooden crate with several tools. The woman holding the leash was sure to keep behind him until they were out of sight. Soon after, the thick doors to the mine were shut, presumably barred and locked. Night fell. I wasted almost no time in scurrying down the hill and rushing into the settlement towards the collection barrel. During all the hours I had spent observing them, the barrel had taunted me, full of what I was sure was water. And I was so very thirsty. I leapt under the tubing and plunged my face down into the barrel, reaching in and cupping the warm fluid. Pulling it up, it smelled a bit off, and tasted heavy, but it was water. I gulped and gulped until I thought I might puke, and then I filled my flagon as well. And then I washed my face. And hands. When I finished I pulled myself together and crouched down by the barrel, suddenly cognizant that I had taken a huge risk. I froze and kept my ears alert. There were no cries of alarm, at least not obvious ones. I doubted that there would be a silent alarm, but there could have been sentries. In fact, there should have been something along those lines, especially with several lootable items sitting out in the open. I glanced around the camp. The workshop was to my right, the tunnel entrance was forward of that, and the lavatory was on the far side of the workshop by a decent margin. Where are the sentries? I began scanning the hillsides, both the cliffside that the tunnel entrance was carved into, and the hillside behind me that I had come down. I found nothing. But I knew there had to be something. It just did not make sense to set up a presumably illegal weapons manufacturing operation without a protection mechanism. So despite my failure, I continued looking. And then I heard a snippet of a conversation. A voice on the wind, and not a gnoll. There was a flash of light forward, from the cliff. It had been quick, a passing glint of yellow. I sought it out again. There was a discoloration in the cliff several yards above the tunnel. The discoloration stretched out in an unnatural horizontal line, uniform, and about as thick as a hand. I thought I saw something moving there as well. I ran through what I knew: These people had what appeared to be weapons; they had slaves; they lived in a dangerous area where I had observed monsters. These people had created a settlement out in these wastes, which might be due to several factors. It could be that there were only small settlements such as this one. Or, it could be that they were some kind of criminal stronghold apart from the local population centers. I hoped it was the second, but either way, it would not change my earlier observations. I could see no probable manner that there would not be a weaponized deterrent. As I considered, I continued watching the suspicious discoloration, until I was rewarded with observing another metallic glint further in. It was enough for me to determine that the discoloration was a window, and that there was someone on the other side. Were I to guess, I would assume that they were armed with some kind of rifle, which would make the opening a sharpshooter¡¯s nest. A chill ran down my back once again, as I realized the extent of my recklessness. From what I could tell, they had not seen me. But they could just have easily as I raided their water stock, or as I scampered down the hillside. The only reason they might have not, is if they were in the middle of a shift change, or if they behaved sloppily. However, under the cover of darkness, and as I crouched alongside other immobile objects, I suspected that I was relatively safe. There were no obvious alarms, there were no mobilizing guards, and there were no potshots being taken. Thus, I plotted. The humans had food. Likely bedrolls. Blankets. Clothes. Supplies. I wanted it all. I knew their lavatories were outside. I could not know if they had facilities within their cave, where I assumed their dormitories resided, but there was a chance that someone would open the doorway guarding the tunnel. And at that point, I could sneak in. ¡°Illusion.¡± I crept to the cliffside beneath the lookout nest, getting into position. It was only a matter of time. Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.3.2 I waited at the base of the cliff for an hour. The night darkened further, leaving me questioning if this world even had a moon or stars at all. It must have had some celestial bodies, for the night had not been completely claimed by the dark, but in the shadows of the cliffs and the two mountains, it was a close thing. Regardless of the cause, however, the darkness would only benefit me and those following my craft. The time was not spent idly. While I waited, I played with Illusion, forming shapes of shadow and attempting to animate them. Of course I kept safety in mind. I never completely exhausted my pool of spiritual energy, only ever using about twenty seconds worth, before allowing it time to recharge. Mind: 46 (+1) Illusion: 6/9 (+1) I had just learned to create a poor imitation of a [Rat] when I heard the gnolls'' laughter echo from the hills. An eerie noise, akin to coyotes calling out in the forgotten industrial slums. The sound bounced off the cliffside walls, diffusing, and becoming all but impossible to track down. What were the gnolls up to? Why were they giving up the advantage of surprise? Was it from poor discipline, foolishness, or an intentional intimidation factor? All of these questions swirled through my mind as I crouched and waited to see what came next. Their laughter, their yips, only came in snippets across the wind. I could not be certain, but I thought they might have been above the cliff. They must have been making their move. They would provide an excellent distraction. I could wait no longer for a random passerby to exit the mines for the latrine. In fact, only a fool of the highest caliber would risk a trip to the latrines, with the gnolls making their presence known. I chuffed at the thought. No, I could not wait. And if I could not wait, then I would act. I covered myself in shadows and crept towards the entrance to the mines, the entire time keeping a close eye upon the sniper¡¯s nest above me. But other than the occasional glint, there was no response. I reached the heavy wooden doors guarding the tunnel. The doors had no lock, but a quick check proved they had been barred shut from the other side. They were somewhat crudely made from old materials, and the wood felt cracked and soft. I pressed my ear to the narrow gap between them and listened. I heard breathing. Someone was guarding the doors from the other side. As I could not determine how attentive the guard was, I refused to proceed. I would wait for the gnolls to further their distraction. And so, I prepared to put my patience to the test once more. However, I was not required to wait for long. ¡°...¡± a woman¡¯s voice came from the room beyond the door. As I listened to the unfamiliar consonants and vowels, as when I listened to the gnolls, I felt a similar migraine begin. I now realized this was my mind forcefully adapting, painfully, hurtfully, nonconsensually, but ultimately usefully. Mind: 47 (+1) ¡°...¡± a man¡¯s voice responded. I was unsure what they were talking about, and the meaning of their words was completely lost. But I could now parse out the individual parts of their speech. So long as they kept talking, I suspected I would gain some understanding. So long as my migraine failed to render me unconscious first. It would have to grow much worse for that to happen. I hoped. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°...ae hye-urk¡­ boke¡­ heallashno¡­¡± the woman said. It may as well have been gibberish. My headache worsened, pounding behind my eyes with every heartbeat, my ears twisted in pain, the back of my neck pinched, my face spasmed, and my right arm burned. I revisited my assumption about the migraine. ¡°...riled¡­¡± the man answered. ¡°...orders¡­?¡± the woman asked. ¡°...pull to center¡­¡± the man said. It was hard to see now, with a pressure building behind my eyes. I saw white flecks obstructing my vision, that failed to clear, no matter how often I blinked or tried to clear them. ¡°But¡­ guard?¡± the woman asked. ¡°... from lookout¡­ alarm¡­ come¡­¡± the man said. Mind: 47 (+1) I heard rustling from inside as the woman followed the man, their footsteps receding into the distance as they went further into the cave. Meanwhile, I was reeling from my headache. My legs had given out, and I leaned heavily against the cliffside as I panted for breath through the pain. The white spots had stopped growing, but they had yet to recede. It hurt. Every heartbeat left the rest of me aching. Body: 34 (+1) And my right forearm joined my left in the burning itching growing sensation. Though the right tattoo always burned deeper. Stealth: 2/9 (+1) Closed: 2/9 (+1) I gritted my teeth and bore through the pain, or tried to. I was in no condition to sneak around, let alone break into a secured enemy site. And I certainly could not remain in my current position, literally in front of the enemy¡¯s front doors, below a sniper¡¯s nest. I began crawling along the base of the cliffside, angling away from the wooden doors. But even against the cliffside, I could be spotted come morning. How long would this headache last? I could still barely see, though the pain was beginning to throb a bit less, and I thought a few of the white spots might have faded, but since I had never counted them, I could not be certain that was the case. I needed a secure place to rest. I could not confidently reach the far hillside without possibly alerting the sharpshooter. I craned my neck upwards, watching the cliffside. I doubted there was a sentry up there. I had seen no movement previously, and the cliff abutted a mountainside. While the gnolls were occasionally bark-yipping-singing, I had no evidence that they were all the way up there. Risky, very risky. But I was next to a cliff. I needed to escape. I had a ¡®magical¡¯ ability to climb. With that, the decision became clear. I began climbing the cliff, the very same cliff with the mine doors, the very same cliff with the sniper¡¯s nest. Yes, that cliff. That was the one I chose to climb. My fingers sank through the stone, finding handholds that did not exist, should not exist, but through ¡®magic,¡¯ did. My muscles carried me forth. While my mind screamed from the roaring heartbeat, while every jostle threatened to upend my stomach, I pushed through, trusting my body to see me to safety. Keeping my eyes open was growing to be an insurmountable strain. I picked up speed. I passed the height of the shooter¡¯s nest. It was a horizontal slit in the stone, not tall enough for me to fit through, but enough so someone could shoot out. The slit only stretched several yards, leaving plenty of space for me to climb around. I continued rising. Yards and yards, until the cliff began sloping away from me, beginning to even out,, and still I continued. Eventually the slope met a jagged series of rocks, and I found an empty crevasse to crawl into. The last thing I forced myself to do was taste the air. I found no traces of people nor gnolls. Safe. Body: 35 (+1) Mind: 48 (+1) Climbing: 5/9 (+1) I should be safe here, I thought. And that was one of the last thoughts I had as I curled up into my tail and buried my face and shut my eyes. Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.3.3 I was unsure how long I had rested for when I awoke. My headache had largely disappeared, with the exception of a slight pulsing pain, just under my ears. Uncomfortable, not debilitating. The sky was still a dark overcast sky, though I now noticed spots on the horizon, where a slight orange glow peeked through. Not from a sunrise, but from reflected lights. Pit fires, maybe. While sleeping had not been my intent, I could not argue that my body had required rest. I opened my flagon and took a sip, swishing the dust and stink from my mouth. The water still carried the aftertaste of the spiced beverage from before, though much, much diluted. I would have rather had more of the spice. But the water was fine too. Now that I was up, I needed to take stock of my surroundings. Like figuring out what had woken me up. I kept my ears sharp. Faint, but I could hear it, just barely. Irregular and differently pitched, at least compared to wind breezing through canyons and whistling over peaks. I crept back to the slope, keeping three points of contact with the ground at all times, until I could peer over the ledge of the cliff. There were popping sounds, almost reminiscent of gunfire, but at a higher pitch. A whistling whine, that left my ears flattened and my teeth aching. I wondered if it was the strange muskets I had seen earlier, except no bullets plinked off stone. Less frequent, but still present, were the pained shouts and yips from the gnolls. But when I peered down into the valley, I saw no evidence of a fight. I considered searching for a secondary camp, before I realized that the sounds were coming from down below, and they were muted. The combat was from within the base. Which meant the gnolls had broken in while I was sleeping¨Crecovering. Did the gnolls enter through the front door though? Considering that no bodies were littering the valley below me, I thought not. Chances were there was another entrance to the mines, and that the gnolls had known of it. More importantly, this meant that my opportunity was not lost, that the distraction was still incredibly current. I hurried back down the cliff, as fast as I could, which felt much slower than climbing up. Regardless of the time I spent, by the time I reached the bottom, the fight was still going on. I snuck to the door and pressed my ear against it once more. The fighting came louder, but not directly opposite the doorway. I unsheathed my knife and slipped it through the crack between doors and probed until I found resistance. A bar locked the doors into place. I set my knife to the bottom of the bar and pushed up. The bar was heavy, and the leverage awkward, but after straining at my grip, I was able to slide the bar up and out from the slots, allowing the door to crack open. I slipped through, confirmed I was alone, then rebarred the doors locked once more. Inside was a stone atrium with minimal furnishings. A chair, a table, a moldy looking tankard with a sour residue around the rim. It still stank of people, not the tankard, the room. Unwashed bodies. Residue of fecal matter. Trace amounts of urine. I convulsed, just slightly, from disgust and I covered my nose. At least there was nobody waiting. Only a single tunnel stretched out from the atrium, a winding tunnel, carved in the same uniform fashion that the gnolls had crafted, though rather than short and wide, these tunnels were narrow and tall, and the stone had the same melted wax appearance. From deeper in, the sounds of conflict came. The strange high pitched, ear-flattening, teeth-clenching pop-pop-popping echoed from further in, along with much less frequent yelps and cries of pain. While it might have been foolish, I had come here for a purpose, and I would not find a better opportunity than now. And so, I continued on, at a crouch, and ready to drop an Illusion at the drop of a pin. ¡°The ¡­ they doing?!¡± a brutish voice shouted from further in. I caught snippets of conversation and suppressed a groan. Motherswear it! I could not afford another headache. There was nowhere for me to hide. ¡°... not this aggressive!¡± a woman answered from ahead. ¡°Aim for the chief!¡± More popping sounds. Another yelp. The pressure under my ears began mounting, my heartbeat growing far more noticeable than it should have been. ¡°... empty!¡± the woman shouted. ¡°Get me another charger!¡± Mind: 49 (+1) The tunnel ended in a natural cavern, likely carved by an old underground river, with the rock here largely what could have been limestone, as opposed to the more volcanic strata I had grown familiar with. Unfortunately, whatever disaster had hit the landscape had dried the river completely, for not a single drop remained. Lanterns cast soft, yellow, and flickering light across the wrinkled stone. With the uneven ground and walls, there were plenty of shadows in which I could choose to hide. The slavers had taken advantage of the space, with partitions set along the walls, from stacked mudstone to cheap looking wooden planks. Wood that had to have come from somewhere green. Unless it predated the ecological disaster, though I doubted that. As I was at the junction between the tunnel and cavern, I had to decide which way to go. To the left, I heard combat. Shouts, snarls, and bashes. To the right, I picked up several interesting scents. I went right, following the slope downward. Less than fifty yards later, I found an old wagon that had been locked in place and propped up by stones to keep the bed level. Someone had put bedding down, turning the wood into a makeshift bed. It was a mix of straw, cloth, and furs, with an old pillow. The stench was thick about it though so I kept my distance. That smell had not been what drew me in this direction. Behind the wagon was a partitioned alcove with barrels and crates. It smelled both bland and spicy at once. The best smells originated from a shelf full of brown glass jars with handles about the neck. There were also burlap sacks stacked on a pallet, unlabeled, but likely some kind of grain. I checked the brown bottles first. I picked one, popped the cork, and took a sniff. It tickled my nostril, with a sweet burn. Some sort of rum or brandy. A part of me wanted to take it, but I could not survive off of booze alone, it just would not be very healthy. With much reluctance, I set the bottle back. On second thought, I swiped it and packed it away in my knapsack. Next, I went to the barrels. The lids were unsealed, which meant I only needed to lift the top to peer inside. I found roots and tubers in most of them, though one held dry leaves that smelled worse than gym socks. I put the lid back on that one quickly. For the canvas sacks, I split one open and found rolled oats. I found a smaller sack to fill, which I stored away in my bag. Considering that I needed food, I also grabbed a few tubers as well. The tubers were under protest. I need calories, I reminded myself. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. That left the crates. I had been hoping to find weapons to better defend myself, maybe a map, but instead I found bolts of cloth, wood stock, and ingots. I left that where I found them. A moment later, I heard a familiar gait approaching, along with padded clawed feet. I remembered well what those sounded like. I hurried from the pantry and slipped between a wooden partition and a stone wall, once again thankful for my limited stature. It was still a tight fit however, and I was forced to leave my knapsack on the ground at the base of the partition. It should be fine. It was unobtrusive there, difficult to spot. The footsteps grew near. There were at least two, one sniffing the air, and the other rummaging through the wagon, then the pantry. ¡°Smell, den,¡± one of them said. I was not worried about their sense of smell, as Traceless Tracks should leave me immune. But the snuffling only grew louder. ¡°No care,¡± the other said. ¡°Grab eat-meat and go. Den Mother say.¡± ¡°No you. It close. Other denmate?¡± The other gnoll yipped and I heard something slice through the air. The first gnoll growled and made space between them, before following its nose back outside of the pantry. I heard it getting closer, slowly. But that should be impossible. I kept telling myself, over and over, that I was scentless, that I left no tracks, that they should not be able to follow me. But the gnoll was following something. Maybe another gnoll had come through here before I did? The gnoll stopped just above where I had set down my knapsack. ¡°Found!¡± it said, with a gleeful snarl. ¡°Den Mother right! Humans stole!¡± ¡°We no have time! Hurry!¡± the other reprimanded the first. ¡°Grab and come!¡± I was not about to let them steal that which was mine. Even if it was ill-gotten gains, I had put in the effort to take them. I wondered if I could stop them. I might scare them off with an Illusion, although I would rather not spend all my energy when enemies could come around the corner at any moment. I also was doubtful of my chances to win a fight. But, I did not need to win. Not necessarily. I crawled back out from where I had stowed away, and fell on my rear over the backpack. I kept rolling, pinching my tail painfully, and I landed in a crouch, facing the wrong direction. I sprung at the wall, kicked off it, twisted, and landed back on a crouch facing the gnoll, a hand on my knife. I confirmed that this particular gnoll was male. ¡°Back off,¡± I snarled, unsheathing my knife and swiping the air. ¡°What you?¡± the gnoll facing me asked. When I had leapt out, he had made distance, jumping backwards reflexively. But now he was pacing around to the side, while his friend stopped rummaging in the pantry and prowled out to join him. I thought he might have been attempting to flank me. ¡°What am I?¡± I asked for clarification. I found myself using their guttural language without thinking about it, but once I realized this, my tongue stumbled. ¡°You take?¡± he asked, his eyes flicking down to the bag, then back up to me. ¡°...no,¡± I lied. ¡°Not you. Not take.¡± Their language truly felt awful to speak. ¡°Who this?¡± the second gnoll asked, finally reaching us. This gnoll, a female, carried a full rucksack over her shoulders, which she set down. She was gray with black spots, and was slightly smaller than the male. Neither wore clothes, except for their fur. ¡°It steal,¡± the male gnoll answered, apparently not believing my first lie. ¡°No smell.¡± I knew I was scentless! They both were crouched now, their clawed hands loose and ready, drool dripping from their muzzles. ¡°We fight?¡± the female gnoll growled. ¡°No,¡± I answered. ¡°You go.¡± I pointed at the knapsack. ¡°Leave.¡± ¡°What mean?¡± Both of their eyes widened in confusion. I sighed. It was challenging to speak in their language. There were many words missing from their lexicon. But with some forethought, I was able to hopefully produce a sentence that made sense. I tried again. ¡°Humans come. Get food. Run to Den Mother.¡± I finished, feeling moderately proud I had been able to do that, hoping the point got across. The male gnoll barked in that strange high pitched laughter of their kind. The female shrugged. ¡°We take,¡± the male insisted, hefting the sack. ¡°Ours.¡± ¡°No. Mistake.¡± I swiped the air with my knife once more, struggling to keep both of them in view. ¡°You go. Grab food.¡± The two gnolls paused, taking a moment to yip. The female¡¯s scarred cheek pulled tight in a feral grin. They needed encouragement. A conflict at this point would result in failure for all three of us. How long until the conflict was resolved? And how confident was I in the humans winning this battle? There were still sounds of conflict, from pained yelps, to the soft ¡®popping¡¯ that I interpreted as gunfire. Though the sounds were quieting down. ¡°No time,¡± I tried to say, though I was lacking the sentence structure to convey most of the meaning. To emphasize my point, I lunged at the male to the side in a stab, then pivoted into a wide swipe at the female. Both of them leapt backwards, easily avoiding the blow. ¡°Slow,¡± the male said. They yipped in laughter, seeming to mock me. They needed more encouragement. I racked my brain to determine a method of scaring them back. I needed space, and clearly I could not rely on them making the smart decision. Likely, if this continued, we would guarantee mutual destruction. ¡°Illusion,¡± I whispered, calling up a [Clone]. Shadows gathered and split off from me. The gnolls snarled and tasted the air. My shadow creation glided forward towards the female. She clawed at the air, unsure. I lunged once more at the male. This time, my knife slashed his hand and wrist, forming a shallow cut. He yelped and snarled. I pressed forward, while the female continued fighting the air. The sounds of battle clearly getting to her. I tried reaching his chest, but he kept a wary distance, circling towards the female, clutching his injured hand. I switched targets, this time, rushing the female from the other side of the shadows. The male barked in warning, but she was already focused on fighting the harmless shadow [Clone]. I dove through from the other side, stabbing into her thigh. The male yanked her back by the scruff just as the blade broached her fur. I allowed the shadow to dissipate and felt a burn on my right arm. Illusion: 6/9 (+1) Both of them were further back now, nearer the wagon and the entry to the pantry than me. ¡°Go,¡± I snarled, my lips pulled back revealing gum and canine. ¡°We go,¡± the two of them agreed. ¡°With food.¡± I nodded, standing protectively over my own knapsack, watching them warily. The female grabbed her rucksack, and the two went back to looting the pantry, with the male standing guard and the female packing a sack for him. We kept eyeing each other until I had gone around another bend, and from there I hid. I waited several minutes, ears peeled. From the gnolls, I heard nothing. The battle was dying down though, and I heard shuffling from further down the natural cavern, along with a cough. I smelled waste and poor hygiene, and the particular funk that skin develops when prevented from breathing from extended periods of time. I had a suspicion of what this was coming from, which would be another one of my objectives. I traveled further into the cavern, further away from the pantry and the gnolls and the human slavers, towards what I thought might be the slaves. I hoped the keys were kept nearby. Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.3.4 Despite my physical deviations, the night-eye vision proved itself valuable over and over again. The lanterns poorly lit the cavern, the loose rocks and uneven flooring created numerous tripping hazards; if not for my vision, I would have had a much slower, more difficult time navigating. The last lantern I had passed had been near the pantry, and I had been descending, deeper into the cavern, for two minutes already. Some light glistened up ahead, but not much, just barely enough to keep the cavern from being pitch black. Not only were the lanterns sparse, but as I went, I noticed that the cavern had begun narrowing, the roof lowering, and the air tasted stale and skank. The cavern narrowed to such a degree, that parts of it had to be chipped away for the path. The awful smell clued me in that I approached my target. It was either that, or an indoor cesspit. Or both. Eventually, the cavern widened up on top, so that it looked like an inverted triangle, with metal grating blocking the upper portions, and a hinged gate on the lower. Debris and rubble had been piled in on the bottom to provide a semblance of a level floor, but only just barely. The stench was particularly strong from the other side of the metal gate. Of course I heard their raspy breaths, their idle twitches, and one of their groans.. These poor people had been kept captive in these conditions for who knew how long. I inspected the gate, looking for the locking mechanism. It was not intuitive, at least not as much as I would have thought. Its hinges were set into the boulder on the left. To the right, a thick bracket had been installed, preventing the gate from opening outward. In fact, it appeared that a portion of the boulder had been carved away, to leave metal and stone as an obstruction. This gate would only open inward, towards the prisoners. But still, as I inspected it, I was unable to find the locking mechanism. Most gates kept the lock to the far side of the hinges. I worked my fingers along the edges of the gate, checking the seams. While I could not find a latch, that was not proof enough, as there was hardly enough space between the gate and the jamb, and the angle was opposite of me and prevented me from easily checking. However, as I was unable to find a keyhole, and as the gate was most definitely locked; I decided that another mechanism must have been holding it shut. I followed along the boulder and walls, but was unable to find any levers or buttons for control. I returned to the rocks and tried climbing up to where the cavern was wider, but I found more rocks had been melted and slagged on top, creating a barrier that was far too heavy for me to so much as wiggle. While I was up there, I had a better vantage of the other side of the gate. The cavern ended in a cramped space, where a collapse had brought the limestone ceiling caving in. The cramped and dark space formed a slave-pen, or what some might call a ¡®stable.¡¯ Against several of the walls, there were installed several metal brackets and lockable hooks. To that bracket, several of the leashes had been locked in place with what looked like a large and flat padlock. The leashes were still attached to collars, and those to three slaves sleeping on scraps of moldy cloth at the base of the wall. On the far side, it looked like a makeshift toilet, without any plumbing, or anywhere for the waste to really go. Since I could only make out one side of the pen, I climbed up the other boulder, and peered in. There was what looked like a minotaur on the far side, though without a collar or leash. It was leaning against the wall and snoring. I doubted the minotaur was a guard. It was naked, and from as far as I could tell, non-sapient. I went back to the first boulder to consider the three slaves: a human, an animal person, and a child. Earlier, I remembered the animal person bearing similarities to a cat, but it was difficult to tell that while they were mired in the dark and the filth. But what drew my eyes in particular was the child. A child. A pretty friend. A slave. It left my blood hot and cold and so hot that sweat prickled beneath the skin. Children should not be enslaved, ever. But as I watched the child, I noticed some oddities about his face. It just seemed a bit more angular than a child should be. Not enough baby fat. I figured that the slavers had likely mistreated the slaves and perhaps starved them. Before I got them out and free, I needed to know more. I picked up a small pebble and tossed it their way, to wake them up, somewhat silently. I was taking a risk. But I doubted they would betray me. Besides, who would they betray me to? This portion of the caverns had been abandoned by the slavers, likely due to the stench. My throw was off, and I hit the human¡¯s foot. The craftsperson. Though he did not budge. The ears of the feline person flinched at the sound though. I picked up another pebble and tossed it. This time, the pebble hit the stone and clattered. The feline¡¯s yellow eyes opened and he rubbed his face before looking my way. ¡°Ma¡¯ ax?¡± the feline humanoid said in a rough and hoarse whisper. My head tingled. ¡°Teeche ka t¡¯anik, ma?¡± he asked again. A familiar pressure began to build beneath my ears. I shook my head and waved my arms. I could not afford another migraine right then. Instead, I tried forming words similar to the humans, in their tongue, as they must have had a way to converse with the slave. Or so I assumed. ¡°N-no?¡± I managed to say, though it sounded slurred and wrong, even to my own ears. ¡°Why speak barbarian?¡± the feline ask, in a stilted ¡°It¡¯s what I know,¡± I explained, curious that he called the human language that. There were obvious implications. He tsked and clicked his tongue. ¡°Unfortunate. Raised from a cub, then? Stolen from your mother?¡± My stomach sank and my knees wobbled. Did he know Mother? No. No no no. ¡°W-what?¡± I stuttered, due to the unfamiliar language we were using. A lady never stutters and always speaks clearly. ¡°A shame, not to speak Kaivan. Su¡¯uatil. Shame.¡± Kaivan. That must have been the language he had been speaking. He thought I was Kaivan then? Otherwise, why would it be a shame I never learned the language¡­ which meant he did not, in fact, know Mother. I let out a breath that I only then realized I was holding and regarded the feline humanoid, the Kaivan. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. He had golden eyes and gray fur with many spots. He was lithe and lean, and wore only plain brown pants tied with a cord at the waist. His fingers were short and stubby, but ending in retractable claws, and his feet were strangely jointed, similar to my own. He gave the impression of lean speed. His stomach was gaunt, and while his fur was kept groomed, his fur did not appear as sleek as it should. His ears were crisp triangles with a tear on one side. His muzzle was short, his nose large and flat. Belatedly, I realized I had been staring for a little too long, and it was approaching a certain level of awkwardness. The only mitigating factor was that he was also inspecting me, and that I needed to know who I was rescuing. Apparently, his eyes also could see in low light conditions. When our eyes met each other, I feigned a cough. ¡°P-pleasantries later,¡± I said, gaining proficiency with the human¡¯s language as I spoke. ¡°How do I unlock this?¡± He tilted his head to the side. ¡°Not with the hescoria¨C¡± he hissed, ¡°the Red Queen?¡± I scowled without realizing it. I would never willingly ally myself with slavers. Never. ¡°This answers,¡± he said with a raspy chuckle. ¡°Their queen has artificed key. This is required¡­ unless your teeth can chew steel?¡± I scoffed and shook my head at his joke. Unless that was an honest question, I realized. So I clarified. ¡°I cannot chew steel.¡± ¡°So your teeth cannot,¡± he repeated, almost as though he attempted to correct me. ¡°Tell me more about this key,¡± I said, ignoring the unusual behavior. ¡°And what does ¡®artificed¡¯ mean?¡± While I had yet to find the physical lock to breach the slave-pen, if I could find it, I could pick it. ¡°The key is bronze wand,¡± he shrugged. ¡°Artificed is artificed.¡± ¡°Where does the key go?¡± I asked, hoping to cut out some of the legwork. We really needed to get moving, the gnolls and their distraction would not last forever. In fact, it had been a while since I had heard them, though the pen was far removed from the rest of the lair. ¡°Go?¡± he repeated, curiously. ¡°The hescoria queen wears it around neck. Necklace, yes?¡± ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s good to know. But where does it go in to unlock the gate?¡± I asked, further clarifying the question. ¡°This one does not understand,¡± the Kaivan man said. ¡°Key unlocks gate.¡± ¡°Yes, but how?¡± I asked, trying not to let frustration leak into my voice. ¡°Is artificed?¡± he said. ¡°This one¨C¡± ¡°-fine, just tell me what this key looks like.¡± Because a ¡®bronze wand¡¯ did not make much sense as far as keys went. As we spoke, the human slave stirred slightly, making a contented smacking sound with his lips. The feline gave him a look of disgust before answering. ¡°The key, a bronze wand with a red crystal, the queen, she wears around her neck, this should be sufficient to find. Though dangerous. Perhaps the cub should escape home and learn properly. Ears are sharp, xican alifidas, yes?¡± The occasional words were spiking my headache, and my left arm burned as the ¡®Blessings¡¯ once again changed, further mutating me. If the tattoo could physically modify my brain, then was I still me? Mind: 36 (+1) I pushed those thoughts aside and nodded slowly. The key should be distinctive enough and easy to find. But while I was speaking to him, and while I knew I should get moving, I found myself intentionally drawing out the conversation. I had not realized I had been so lonely since Nick Delaney perished; but I guessed I have had few opportunities to socialize, unless the gnolls counted. But time was running out, if we ever had any to begin with. Despite that, I felt justified asking another question. Not about the padlocks holding the leashes to the brackets, since I could pick those open easily. No, my question was for something far more dehumanizing. ¡°And for the collars,¡± I asked. ¡°How are those unlocked?¡± ¡°The keys should be around, this one is unsure of where.¡± Our voices, conversation, while not loud, must have been loud enough to wake the human. That is, if he had been asleep at all. I had my doubts. Were I in his position, I would have faked sleeping to gain insights. ¡°Huzzat?!¡± the man snorted as he ¡®woke¡¯ up. He made a show of rubbing his eyes messily with his palms. ¡°Who¡¯re you talking to, cat?¡± ¡°That one has not introduced yet,¡± the feline said. ¡°Though that one was just leaving.¡± The feline gave me a pointed look and a nod. ¡°Nuhuh cat,¡± the man snorted. ¡°You ain¡¯t pushing that slag on me. Don¡¯t think I didn¡¯t hear you all talking. The Union finally sent someone? ¡®Bout time.¡± I tilted my head in confusion, glancing between the two. They were both slaves, and I had intended to free all of them. Safety in numbers, and all that. And depending on where we landed, either could be used as a frontman. The feline must have read my confusion, for he added, ¡°I do not think that one was sent by your family.¡± ¡°Union,¡± the man corrected with a condescending tone. He shook his head though, then added, ¡°well, if you¡¯re escaping then I¡¯m coming with. And don¡¯t even think about double crossing me.¡± ¡°No one has said we will leave without,¡± the feline sighed. ¡°But if this is to work, then our friend must leave now.¡± I got the feeling that there was perhaps a rift between the human and the feline. I wanted to ask more, and to find out more about the boy, but the feline was right. I needed to get moving. I nodded at them and disappeared back into the shadows. ¡°Hey don¡¯t forget about me, or else, right?!¡± the human said, his voice echoing as I made my way back up the cavern. I left them behind with feelings of ill-ease and a forming headache. Something was bothering me, more than usual, and it took me a second to put my finger on it. The Kaivan man was gaunt, suffering from poor hygiene, with a ragged fur coat. The man had been stocky, unshaven, and while filthy, had few visible ailments. His bulk was there. Which meant he never starved. Which meant he was treated far better than the Kaivan, and that he would be far less motivated to escape. I doubted the man would refuse an attempt at escape, but, it would be better to limit his chances to betray me. I trusted the Kaivan to sacrifice much to escape, including damaging me. I trusted the man to stab me in the back if it would further his own goals. The child! I realized I had failed to open a dialogue with the child. Though I assumed the mechanisms to free the child would be the same for all of them. And honestly, the child was reason enough to risk both the feline and the human¡¯s company. I would find this ¡®queen,¡¯ steal the artificed key, including anything else of value I could get away with. I would free the slaves, in particular the child. I controlled my breathing, falling into old patterns. Even though I still could not remember where those patterns came from. But considering the lessons that kept harassing my thoughts, perhaps not remembering was good. Regardless, I had just passed the pantry and the wagon with the makeshift bed when I heard people up ahead. They were walking towards me, conversing. Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.3.5 ¡°Anyone know why they attacked?¡± a man asked. ¡°Dunno, but who could?¡± A second man, with a sly voice, said. He then added with a smirking tone, ¡°especially not poor Stephan.¡± The first man chuckled. ¡°Ha. And he won¡¯t be knowing anything now.¡± ¡°Except hundeor dung.¡± Hundeor? I did not recognize the term, but from inference, I guessed that was the actual name for the hyena-like humanoids I had previously called gnolls. Unfortunately, my headache spiked. I saw a white spec begin floating in my vision. I would just need to push through it. Or find a hole for a nap. ¡°Hey¨C¡± the first man snickered ¡°-it coulda been any of us.¡± ¡°-and you thought my joke was funny,¡± the sly one chuckled without gusto. He changed to a more serious tone quickly. ¡°Still, we should probably check out the pantry though, just in case.¡± ¡°Headed there anyhow,¡± the first man finished. As they kept going, I hugged a wall and covered myself with [Chameleon]. They carried a lantern with them, but their attention was wholly on their footing. Once they were past, I sighed and kept moving. Stealth: 3/9 (+1) I encountered none others as I walked. But as I went, I could have sworn that I traveled further than I should have. I had meant to reach the entrance, at least, the tunnel leading from the entrance, before plotting my next course. I doubted I was lost. There were no junctions, at least not that I saw. But even then, I felt certain that I had yet to explore this part of the cavern. I turned back, this time trailing a hand along the wall. Ten yards later, I found the tunnel. The lantern that should have marked it had gone out. In the shadows, it was easy to miss, even for my night-eye. With an escape route confirmed, I continued my exploration, searching for the crew¡¯s living chambers, or offices, basically wherever valuables were likely to be stored, along with the keys, of course. I did not need to travel much further until I heard the echo of conversation and activity, still too distant and muddled for me to parse. Something was getting dragged across the ground. Someone grunted as though strained. I had yet to actually see anybody, but I knew they had to be close. I kept near the walls and the recesses, never relying on the gloom of the cavern alone. It was almost too easy. I would take cover in one alcove, wait, listen, make sure nobody was watching, then hurry across the floor on light and quick feet to the next source of cover. I took my time in between, always watching, listening, and taking care to watch for traps or observers. Hasty thieves were dead thieves. As I progressed, I found fewer shadows to hide in. Lanterns dotted the walls, casting their irregular light across the stone. I spotted a few small black pocks on the stone. I came across a puddle of blood and the tang of iron and copper. Battle had occurred here. There were drag marks through the puddle, leading further away. I doubted the bodies would be kept near the offices or living quarters, but I had yet to find any other path to take. That did not mean there was not, however. This required investigation. I went to one of the black pocks. It smelled of cooked dust, such as turning on an electric burner without wiping it down. I tapped it with my finger, still warm to the touch. I glanced towards the pool of blood, then back to the scorch marks, trying to line it up. The marks appeared too erratically for me to get a read on where they had come from, exactly. Except they were from a ranged weapon or spell. The space between marks were too far spaced apart to be otherwise. Next, the puddle. I crouched beside it. It might have been human blood, or gnoll (hundeor, as the local humans call them). Droplets led away from the puddle.I lowered my nose to the ground, beside it, wondering if I could track wherever the droplets led. Embarrassingly enough, my stomach chose that moment to rumble in discontent. It had been a bit since I had eaten. I was hungry. But now was not the time. Definitely, not the time. I wish I could have determined what bled here. But in a way, I could, given a few assumptions. The hundeor never used weapons other than claws or teeth. I had not seen them carry any, and they never used any on the ooze monster, even when it invaded their den. The scorch marks were from a weapon, which meant the humans used that weapon. If that weapon or spell could cook stone, then it likely could cook flesh as well, and blood typically did not pool from cooked, cauterized flesh. Which meant the blood was from humans. Which meant the trail of droplets led to wherever the humans went for medical attention, which likely was near their living quarters and offices. And while the slide marks and the droplets seemed to head in the same direction at first, they deviated quickly. I followed the droplets, though irregular. The scent trail was there. The cavern rose in elevation. The roof did as well, just more quickly. The walls widened. The chamber grew broad, and I could no longer see the far side, nor the roof. The floor had been littered with debris, from broken glass to metal shavings and broken planks of wood. It made traveling a bit hazardous, but I was careful. As I traveled, I still failed to find any of the slavers. I knew they were around somewhere, the voices had originated from about where I was, but I could not find them. Frustrating. Why were the wall lanterns lit if uninhabited? I was overlooking something. I paused in a recess to wait, and think, and observe. Eventually, my patience rewarded me; I heard them, voices echoing, audible. ¡°Might need to hit the mint sooner than later, ma¡¯am.¡± A deferential voice. It was muted, but close. I tried tracking it down. It sounded androgynous, distorted. ¡°Why? We still have enough C,¡± a woman responded in a no-nonsense tone. ¡°It¡¯s not like the hundeor¡¯ll raid us again, not anytime soon. You saw the licking we gave their chief.¡± ¡°Sure, you know best,¡± the androgynous voice answered. ¡°Though our scouts have reported some oddities¡­¡± the voice was growing more distant. I heard soft footsteps moving away, until I lost them. I had finally found where the voices were coming from: above me. Just barely visible, if I strained my eyes while sticking my head out from the alcove and looking up, were a series of ledges and scaffolds, near where the ceiling must have been. But now that I knew where to look, I got a better look. I climbed up a ways, just to see. The lanterns helped. In hindsight, it was obvious. I should have noticed. I would have noticed, if I had walked closer to the center, rather than slinking along the sides. Regardless, observations. A rope bridge ran from wall to wall. A wooden scaffolding formed a walkway along the sides of the cavern, with a ledge partially carved in, when the stone protruded. There was not a lot of space up there, on the ledges and scaffolding, which implied that there were spaces cut further back, into the walls themselves. I needed to get up there. I could keep searching for the pathway up, but that pathway might be watched, guarded. Rather than risk it, I began to climb. And once more, I marveled how easy climbing had become. It hardly took effort, my grip felt unbreakable, I scaled the wall with confidence. I did note that the walls were grimy though, and an unpleasant residue had come off upon my hands. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Climbing: (6/9) (+1) Just below the ledge, I paused to listen. The shadows from below hid me well enough, though I realized my mistake a moment later. While the ledge just above me was out of sight, the ledge opposite me, across the canyon was not. And it was down this that a man came walking, dragging a lifeless hundeor behind him. ¡°Illusion,¡± I whispered, willing [Chameleon] to cover me. I matched the shroud to the grimey surface of the cavern. While I had difficulty visualizing colors, I was sure that it was all shades of gray, and the shadows were fairly deep anyways. Confident that I would remain unseen, I stayed in position while the man walked by. But he stopped. He was almost directly across the canyon. My Illusion could hold out for another fifty seconds at most. Why did he stop? I started looking for solutions. The man dropped the hundeor on the path and spat over the edge. ¡°Wretched animals,¡± the man swore. ¡°Godslickin¡¯ Steph had to go get shanked. Burn that fool and toss ¡®em to the mists. Makin¡¯ work for the rest of us.¡± He sighed angrily and stomped on the hundeor. The hundeor made no movement in response. I was fairly certain it was dead. He sighed again. ¡°What¡¯s the country comin¡¯ to¡­ kunnies in the streets¨C¡± he sounded like he was working up a stream of curses and complaints, when a woman shouted. ¡°Enough of that chatter! Get yer gods lovin ass back to work!¡± The man snarled then shook his head, picking up the hundeor and continuing to move. But his handle on the body was awkward. He must have decided to switch it up, because he went around towards the hundeor¡¯s legs. Unfortunately, as he moved, his face pointed my way. He glanced at me. I practically felt his gaze. ¡°Huh?¡± he said. He was looking at the shadows around me. My Illusion was just about finished. Cold sweat prickled the back of my neck. ¡°Eyes playing tricks.¡± He shook his head and kept going, just as my Illusion expired. I held my position until he had disappeared into a side passage. As soon as he was gone I continued climbing. I needed to get out of the open. I climbed over the crest of the ledge. It was not continuous stone, with wooden planks filling in where there was no stone to be carved. It was about a yard wide, all along its length, except for a few areas where planks spanned a recess in the walls. Notably, multiple side passages led off from the ledge-walkway. I could go right, or left. Either way would lead to something interesting. Further to the left, I thought I saw a flicker of light. I headed that way. I passed three tunnels before I reached the source of the light. As opposed to the yellow lanterns, reminiscent of sodium lights, that I found throughout the caverns, this was brighter and without the discoloration. As I reached the tunnel of interest, I heard breathing from within. ¡°Illusion,¡± I mouthed, and covered myself with [Chameleon] to help conceal my presence. I ducked low to the ground and peered around the corner. There was a bright gray slit, stretching horizontally across a far wall. Belatedly, I realized it was the other side of the lookout. Sitting on a chair was a human with a strange rifle across his lap, peering out the window. The sniper¡¯s nest. The light I had seen was daylight. How long had I been in this cavern? I backed up and kept moving. The ledge curved away from the face of the cliff, and the next side-passage proved promising. It led to dank living quarters that smelled of sweat and beer and worse. Several narrow cots were lined against one wall, and one of them had a person sleeping fitfully under a blanket. Nothing appeared valuable in the room at first glance, but I thought about it. These people were criminals. There was no honor among thieves, not of these sorts. If I were one, and if I had something valuable, I certainly would never trust the rest of the crew to not steal from me. Which meant I would either keep the possessions on me, or somewhere secure. There was a man in there that was truly out of it. There were locked chests by most of the cots. The risk seemed worth it. I entered. The sleeper, a bearded man with a gut and a mean snore, tossed and snorted. To the side of him, on a small stand, there was a brown glass bottle, similar to what I had seen in the pantry. The bottle had been left open, and appeared three quarters dry. I counted cots; they were all unremarkable, and there were five of them in total. A few had trunks under them, including the sleeping man. I started from the furthest corner. I slipped my knife around the crease of the trunk, checking for traps or latch. I found the latch. It was a simple lock. Using both hands, one for the torque and the other for the pick, I unlocked the trunk and cracked it open. I tested the seams once more with my knife, applying just the slightest pressure. No wires. I opened the trunk further and slid my hand inside to feel around. There was some cloth, a lot of nothing, and a fist sized pouch. I lifted the pouch and quietly shifted the trunk closed. The pouch went into a pocket, and I continued on to the next trunk. This one was both empty and unlocked. The third trunk had a small pouch and a dagger. The fourth, with the sleeper, I skipped, saving it for last. The fifth had cloth scraps and a book. I took it all, and despite my curiosity about the book, I put it all into my bag. I could inspect it later, when I was safe. I still had yet to find what I was looking for. I went back to the fourth cot, where the sweaty man was sleeping. The trunk was locked, and there was no space to maneuver it beneath the cot, with the heavy man resting on the cot¡¯s canvas, which compressed the space beneath, including the trunk. It was wedged in there tightly, but that was hardly enough to defeat me. I began sliding the trunk out, slowly, first one corner, then the other, back and forth. Minutes passed, until finally the man sagged just a little bit lower into the cot, and the trunk was out. I slid my knife along the seams, picked the lock, and lifted the lid. The trunk had a pouch, an illustrated magazine, a few soiled clothes, and a leather belt with a side-arm holster. I was incredibly hopeful for just a second, until I realized that the holster was empty, and that there was no gun in sight. I still pocketed the pouch and illustrated magazine¨Cit looked interesting. I got up from the trunk. I still had yet to find what I was looking for. But there was a chance that the sweaty ale stained man had fallen asleep with what I needed in one of his pockets. I bit my tongue, tried to ignore my nose, and gently began patting him down. Stealth: (4/9) (+1) ¡°Huzzawa no¡­ it wasn¡¯t like that ah swear¡­¡± the man mumbled in his sleep, jostling a bit. I froze until he settled back down, and then I kept going. I was in his breast pocket when I found what I was looking for, or at least what I thought I was looking for: a key chain, with a plain bronze key and a steel one. I slipped them up and out. But the motion must have stimulated a part of him in an unfortunate manner. ¡°No no heh¡­¡± he murmured and giggled. Awkward. I scowled. Before I left, I tested the keys on the trunk. The bronze one fit the trunk, which left the steel one for something else, which was hopeful. Were I lucky, the steel key would work for the captives¡¯ collars, or at the very least, to free them of their leashes. That only left me finding the artificed key, which was with the ¡®red queen,¡¯ or the leader of the crew. Queen was a rather presumptuous title, I thought. I went back out and began scouting once more. From down below, I heard steps running along the cavern floor. It left me on alert, but they had a ways to go before they came up, and I could find a hiding spot by then. The next side tunnel I found was a mess hall, with a small kitchen and table. I only peeked in; there was a man and a woman sitting down toasting each other, while the man had a bandage wrapped around his arm with blood seeping through. I kept going. I found a strange tunnel. It was long and poorly lit. Figuring I might have found a second escape route, I decided to check it further. As I went, I found the passage narrower than the other carved tunnels. There were no lanterns. And the smell grew worse and worse, to nearly unbearable levels. And soon, I found why. I gagged. Bodies. In various states of decay. Human and hundeor. Fresh, and rotten. I fell backwards and scrambled away. Why did they keep their dead to rot like that? There must have been a reason, but I could not fathom it. But that explained the cheesy egg smell. I made haste to leave that cramped tunnel behind, hoping that the smell would not stick with me. Back to the main walkway, I snuck forwards, hardly making more than a whisper as I padded along, carefully keeping my toes from clacking. It was a pain to remember lifting my toes each time I stepped, but the difference in volume was profound enough to be worth it. The next side passage I found was really more of a doorway. An open doorway. I peeked inside. A woman was sitting at a table. She faced the entryway, though appeared engrossed in a thick tome on the table. Her face was ruddy, her hair crimson, and a red scarf hung loose around her shoulders. And there, upon her neck, was a necklace with a ruby wrapped in geometrical copper and silver. That had to be the artificed key for the gate to the slave pen. Then this had to be her, the red queen, the leader of this crew of slavers. But the question was, how would I retrieve it? Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.3.6 I was biding my time while keeping low and crouched. I peeked around the corner. The other side of the open doorway was a room, at least fifteen by ten feet, carved into the stone with the same melted-wax looking walls. The room was currently occupied by my target. This ¡®Red Queen,¡¯ this captain of slavers, was sitting towards the open doorway, though her attention currently rested on a thick tome upon an old table. On her face was a scowl, and in her hand was a strange fountain pen. Her room contained sparse decorations, but decorations nonetheless. On one stone wall, a nine inch nail had been driven in, and from it hung a wooden slab, with several faded papers and rusted knives sticking through them. One of those papers had what looked like an illustration of a pompous man wearing ornate clothing, and judging from a sharp and angular script, a ¡®Baron Oren.¡¯ Which raised a question: when had I learned to read the presumably human language? To answer that question with another question: when had I learned to comprehend or speak these different languages? And to finally answer both those questions: magic. Musings aside, I had doubts. Even with Illusion, I would appear as a blurred mirage, and her quarters were well-lit enough that I felt certain she would notice. All she would need to do is look up. If she were facing the other way, then I might have been able to pull it off. But as it was? No, too risky. That did not mean options were lacking: I could wait and hide until a more promising opportunity presented itself. Hasty thieves were caught thieves¨Cand caught thieves were put in the clo¨CI found my train of thought broken with a shudder. But really, this meant I had more time to work with. I doubted the prisoners were going anywhere¨Cthey would hold, as abyssal as their situation was. Of course, actually escaping would be another matter. But with the extra time, I could make preparations. Sabotage weapons, steal supplies¡­ ideas were running now that I considered it. I could definitely make this work. Perhaps an opportunity would present itself sooner rather than later. Footsteps echoed down the hallway, rapid, approaching. Someone was running towards us. My reverie, broken. Shame-faced I realized I had been gawking. Had I been made? I needed to get off the walkway. I scrambled, climbing up the wall as quickly and as quietly as I could. ¡°Illusion.¡± I covered myself with [Chameleon]. While still moving, I saw the person, it was a man, I think I recognized him from near the slave-pen, but I was not sure. Under the grime, a lot of the bandits looked the same. While watching, I continued climbing until I reached the ceiling. His eyes never touched me. He reached the Red Queen¡¯s chambers, panting, out of breath. It seemed I was safe, for now. Unfortunately I could not see into the room¨CI had erred on the side of caution. Perhaps I should rectify that. ¡°Cap!¡± he said. He was still short of breath. I imagined bent over, wheezing. But perhaps he was handing off a package, or a letter pertaining to my location. Perhaps they were exchanging relevant information with sign language, or at the very least, with their body language. As I thought about it, I realized that I absolutely needed to see what was happening inside. I began climbing down from the ceiling, towards the top of the doorway. It was an awkward position, but with my handholds, I found myself supporting myself with my hands near completely, while my core kept my legs tucked against the wall, where my toes found more magically appearing holds wherever they touched. But I could not think of magic at that time, I needed to take advantage of it. I crawled lower, blood beginning to rush to my head. Body: 37 (+1) ¡°What is it now!¡± the woman barked. I still could not see from where I was, but I imagined she was glaring, her voice laced with irritation. I climbed lower, another handhold, another torque, another toe rest. My head just cleared the top of the doorway, my hair would have hung lower, potentially exposing me, but days worth of grime and a short cut to begin with kept my hair in place. My eyes cleared the top of the threshold, my face angled away, minimizing exposure, but making it so I stared down my cheeks and¨Ca wave of revulsion hit me, almost flooring me right there, but I held on¨Cmuzzle. I was staring down my cheeks and muzzle. ¡°We¨Cwe got a bit of a¨Can issue?¡± he hedged, nervous. I wondered if his boss had a habit of shooting irritants. I doubted it, at least, not actually literally. Perhaps metaphorically though. ¡°Just spit it out already. Night¡¯s full of Meohrdung already,¡± she swore with a scalding tone, spittle flying, I failed to recognize the curse though. ¡°Might as well add some more.¡± ¡°Uhh, yeah¡­¡± he said, wobbling a bit, and possibly almost burping. ¡°So, there I was, running the rounds, checkin¡¯ on the chattel, and got to chattin¡¯ with the artificer.¡± ¡°This better be going somewhere,¡± the woman said, clearly unimpressed. ¡°Course! He told me there was some other¨Che said¨C¡± that time he did burp ¡°-scuse me. He said there¡¯s another kunny runnin¡¯ around.¡± He finally finished. I had gathered that ¡®kunny¡¯ was a slang-term for animal humanoids, other than hundeor, which referred to what I had thought of as gnolls. But more importantly, the only other humanoid that the slaves had spoken with recently was me. He called me a kunny? I felt offended, and I lacked knowledge of the etymology of the term. And the blood was still running to my head, my ears felt like they might burst, and my eyes were bulging. I might not be able to hold the position that much longer. But, but even more importantly, that Mothersworn slave had sold me out? Ruined my plans! Mothers¨Cgood girls never swear! I almost growled in frustration, but I clamped down on any noise. I could not lose my only advantage here. ¡°Oi?¡± the woman asked, finally giving the man the time of day. ¡°Think it came in with the rest o¡¯ the raff?¡± ¡°Maybe?¡± the man asked, failing to provide any meaningful contribution at all, besides stinking up the place. ¡°Just thought you should¨C¡± The woman held up her hand to silence him. She seemed to be thinking out loud. ¡°It would be too coincidental otherwise. We still don¡¯t know what riled the hundeor into attacking¡­¡± ¡°Tryna edge in on our market, maybe?¡± he asked, venturing an idea. He was curling in on himself as he finished his thought, and as the woman¡¯s glare sharpened towards him. Her fingers were twitching to a holster on her belt. But when he finished talking, her hand crawled away. ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid,¡± the woman scoffed. ¡°Hundeor are barely sapient. Nobody¡¯s tellin¡¯ them what to do. It must have been an infiltration of opportunity. Or a baited attack. Hundeor are stupid enough to fall for that. But how sure are we of what the man said?¡± ¡°He seems a decent sort, for a guildie anyways.¡± This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°So we have an intruder, and some kunny. I doubt there would be a wild one running around following the hundeor¨Canimals tend to be territorial¨Cso it has to be a kunbearn¡­¡± I was unsure what a kunbearn was, but I assumed it was either the full name of kunny, or was some sort of alternate designation. They seemed to be assuming I was here on someone else¡¯s orders. And I almost felt like correcting them. No, I did feel like doing so. But that was only a consideration because of the Mothersworn blood rushing my Motherswearing head! Body: 38 (+1) ¡°Who would send one though? Still seems a bit coinciden¨Cental?¡± the man burped in the middle. Disgusting. Either his previous burp, or this current one, due to the vagaries of air flow, had finally reached me. It stank. He stank. My nose felt like it physically recoiled, if just a bit. How was that man still standing? The fumes coming off him were toxic. ¡°Maybe¡­¡± she continued thinking. ¡°It would make more sense¡­ but Southbridge is three days away. Maybe another cartel¡¯s moving in? The Pit Dogs.¡± More references I failed to understand, but Southbridge sounded like a destination. ¡°Could be that creepy alchemist, maybe?¡± the man offered. The woman was no longer stroking her holster, instead pacing. ¡°But we have nothing he would want,¡± she said. ¡°You said the slaves spoke with the kunny? What more can you tell me? I need to know more before calling another alarm.¡± Why did she need a justification to call an alarm? Did she lack complete control, did she worry for a mutiny, was she considerate, or was she wanting to give focused relevant instructions and knew that more data was required. If it were me, it would be the last. I figured she might also worry about a mutiny. All it took was a single bullet. ¡°Couldn¡¯t tell ya,¡± the man answered, shrugging. That surprised me. Just what sort of conversation had the man had with the artificer? It made little to no sense that he had so little to go on, except, ¡°someone was here.¡± But then again, he seemed like an idiot, and was drunk. ¡°And why the gods not?¡± she swore, venomously. It appeared the woman agreed with me. Perhaps I should consider her more as myself, if a bit more violent. ¡°That shoulda been the first thing you asked!¡± ¡°Well¨Cuhhh¡ª¡± he coughed ¡°-I thought I woulda tell you first¨Csoon¡¯s I heard.¡± She spat, ¡°worthless.¡± She got up from her seat, a scowl and a glare. Realizing where this conversation was going, I climbed back up, squirreling to the side in a way I never could have done without the Talent. The wall would have been far too smooth, and I was going from upside down to sideways to right-side up, a difficult maneuver even with handholds and pitons. And here I was, handling it with hardly a thought. The Climbing Talent was nice. Of course, as I thought this, my right forearm burned. Climbing: 7/9 (+1) But that was besides the point. The artificer, the male prisoner, had informed. A foolish decision, as it would only hurt his chances of escape. And a confusing decision at that. Why would he have done that? I told him I would free him. Did he trust his chances with his slavers over me? ¡°Well?!¡± she demanded, from a different position than before, closer to the doorway. ¡°You coming?¡± ¡°Well¡­ I was hopin¡¯ to grab another drink while I was up here.¡± ¡°Godslicking absolute gutter trash!¡± she shouted at him. ¡°If we have an intruder, you expect me to travel all the way down there, alone? Are you trying to get me assassinated? Besides, this is only because of your cock up. You should have already found this out. So no, no more drinks. Not until this is resolved. You¡¯re coming with me, or by all the cursed gods, I¡¯m gonna find this kunny and shove it head first up your dunghole you¡¯ll have fur comin¡¯ out your throat!¡± I did not consent to that. Certainly not. Though I agreed that the idiot should be punished. I wondered what the Red Queen¡¯s version of the closet was. ¡°I hear it¨C¡± the man cried, holding up his arms, ¡°I get it! I¡¯m coming¡­ no more¨Cdrinks¨Ctill this is over.¡± He finished mournfully. ¡°Fool,¡± the woman spat, before striding out, with the man chasing close behind. Both of them carried their strange pistols. The man muttered under his breath, but I was unable to hear, even with my ears. While they left, this gave me a bittersweet opportunity. Having my plans sold out could actually work out for me, at least if I took advantage of it. If not, then it would just be all costs without any gain. So, as soon as the humans were around the corner, I climbed back down and snuck into the now abandoned captain¡¯s quarters. My purpose: ransack everything of value. I started with the table. I checked the tome first, the large leather bound, yellowed parchment¡­ ledger; it appeared to contain a list of inventories coupled with schedules and names of locations I had no reference of. I had no idea why a group of bandits would keep one of these, but they could have lifted it off some victims, or maybe their operations were just that extensive. Either way, the ledger was too large for me to take; besides that, leafing through it, I found it dull and useless, unless I spent time researching the crew and operations. I did tear out a few pages with the schedules and locations, it seemed useful. The rest of the book, the bindings, and the unfilled pages, were all left behind. Beside the ledger, there was the plated fountain pen I had seen the woman using. Of course, the pen was acquisitioned straight into my bag. Small and valuable, potentially useful too. One never knew when they would need a pen. But the real win was under the ledger: a map. A map. It was laid out and held down flat by a mix of a grimy wood surface and the weight of the ledger. And while I could not make much sense of the map, lacking context or knowledge of the area, I figured it would likely include the area I was currently in, which made the map incredibly valuable to my continued survival¡­ and to finding a metropolitan area. So after unsticking the map from the table, I rolled it up and carefully shoved it into my bag. Then I went through the drawers under the table. While I was hesitant to call it a desk, since it felt more like a grimy dining room table than anything else, it did have a drawer under it. Technically, it might be considered a desk. Nomenclature aside, in that drawer I found a few trinkets: glittery silver flakes in a glass vial, a notebook, a silver key, and a heavy pouch of the strange coins that had crystals in the middle. Naturally, I bagged all of it. Other than the artificed key, unless the silver key was it, the only thing I had yet to find was a firearm. But there should have been one. Sure, I saw the woman take one of those strange guns with her, but there was no way that she did not have more than one. Crime bosses always had plenty of weapons at their disposal. Knowing this, I gave the rest of the room a closer go-over. There were knives embedded in the wood hanging from the wall. None of those looked worth keeping though, nor the papers they pierced. But there had to be something else around¨Cthere. Now that looks interesting, I thought. In a dim corner there was a safe. A heavy one, crafted of a dull matte metal that almost blended in with the rock wall. I practically scurried to it in my haste to secure whatever valuables it contained. I ran my fingers over it. The metal felt cold and welcome against my hot and worn flesh. I wanted in, and I could crack it, and least I could, if I had the time. But I doubted the time would be granted¡­ still, I had to try. I had to. I examined the safe further, scouring every inch of metal. I found no tumbler, nor lock, but the safe was certainly locked. There must have been a trick to open it. And open it I strongly wished to do: it was large enough to contain all manner of treasures. I checked for seams, for the door. My hands, my fingernails, my claws, flowed across the metal. My claw hooked on the slightest ridge. There. The seam. I followed them, found the hinges, or what I thought were them, but they were recessed, hidden. Still, I found no locking mechanism. Same as the gate to the prisoners. I thought there was a similar mechanism to unlock the safe; some artificed key, whatever that was. Then, I remembered the silver key I had found in the desk. In the off-chance that it would work, I fished out that key from my bag, and I tapped it against the safe. Nothing. I tried tapping the top of it, the sides, the front¨Call nothing. I tried following the seams with it¨Cnothing once more. No matter what I tried, the key had no effect. I sighed, my heart heavy with disappointment. Even if the safe had a tumbler, I probably lacked the time to crack it. Whatever was locked away would stay that way, a mystery. Though I resolved to myself to come back and try again, should I snatch the ¡®artificed key¡¯ that the Red Queen wore around her neck. After that, I gave the chambers one final look through. Satisfied that I could take nothing else, I headed out. I needed to check on the prisoners, to see just what had gone on; what had prompted the artificer to betray me. I planned on asking a few very pointed questions. Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.3.7 As soon as I left the Red Queen¡¯s quarters, I was back on the ledge. Voices and footsteps echoed from down below. They had to have walked the long way, the same way the original runner had. It was the only way I could explain that they were still in sight, even after I had spent minutes ransacking the office. Fortuitous. I peered over the ledge to watch them pass. The Red Queen continued to berate the man, but it was only with half her attention, less than half. Her head was on a swivel, and her eyes almost seemed to pierce the gloom. As I was so far above them, and hidden in the shadows, I doubted she would see me, but it still left me nervous she would. I took extra care to keep the ledge between me and her. Her drunk companion on the other hand, well, I hardly gave a concern towards him. Once they passed further down into the cavern, just out of sight, I twisted myself over the edge and began climbing down, not headfirst this time. I trusted my Talent, and let my hands and feet land where they did, without questing or feeling out whatever holds they landed on. My Talent, this magic¨Cit should not have worked¨Cbut it did. It amazed me continually. I could learn to enjoy this. About halfway down, I stubbed my toe. It was an outcropping of stone. A loose one, at that. The stone cracked and broke loose, falling and hitting the ground with a tremendous bang. In the cavern, everything echoed. I froze. ¡°Hear that?¡± the man asked. ¡°No,¡± the woman scoffed, with what I thought was mean sarcasm. ¡°Y¡¯sure? Cuz¨C¡± ¡°-Of course I heard that!¡± the woman shouted. I heard a slap. ¡°Go check it out.¡± ¡°Sure, but-¡± ¡°You know¡­¡± the woman led off, as though considering, ¡°I need to replace Steph¡¯s position by the back.¡± ¡°Gods¡¯ dung!¡± the man swore. ¡°I¡¯m going, I¡¯m going¡­¡± he trailed off, coming back my way, his hooded lantern bobbing in the dark and illuminating his path. If that light fell on me, and if he looked up¡­ well, I had something for that. ¡°Illusion.¡± I covered myself with shadows and remained where I was. The man, the drunk toady that he was, was looking back and forth as he walked, scanning the ground, likely he searched for whatever had made that noise, or an intruder hiding, on the ground. But I was not on the ground. And the rock that I had kicked loose looked no different than any other. He never looked up. Eventually, he gave up, and walked back to the Red Queen as he reported, ¡°Can¡¯t find nothing.¡± ¡°Maybe it¡¯s the mess hall. They¡¯re still rowdy back there¡­ or it¡¯s the alleged intruder. Stay sharp.¡± ¡°Yeah, sure.¡± They started walking again, but the man paused. ¡°About Steph¡¯s spot by the back chute¡­ you weren¡¯t serious, right?¡± he asked. ¡°Depends,¡± she said. ¡°If this trip down here was a waste of my time or not.¡± The extra menace carried through. I was left a bit curious about Steph, and this supposedly undesirable position. It seemed strange to use it as a threat, but the man seemed to take it seriously by the way he swallowed and stopped talking. They continued further into the cavern, and I tailed after them, crouching, and keeping obstructions between me and them, particularly the sharp eyed woman. Whenever I had to cross an open space, I would cover myself in Illusion. I thought of crawling along the ceiling, but I doubted my physics defying climbing ability would allow that, and a mistake there would be troublesome. Better to slink along than risking that. As I thought that, my right arm burned once more. That burn had begun to feel good, less of an itch, and more of a scratch. Stealth: 5/9 (+1) We soon passed the pantry, where a woman was going through the stock, with a checklist. She was counting what they had, and comparing to what they should have. Awfully organized for bandits. The Red Queen stopped, and called out to the ¡®employee¡¯ taking inventory. ¡°How bad?¡± she asked. ¡°Eh? That you, Cap?¡± the woman asked, poking her head back out from the pantry. ¡°It ain¡¯t great, but ain¡¯t the worst. They ransacked some, made a mess a bit, but we aren¡¯t gonna starve. They took some liquor though. A lot of liquor.¡± ¡°Godslicking cunts!¡± the Red Queen swore, a surprising vehemence. ¡°I should have kept it all in the safe. How bad?¡± ¡°They got the stuff from uisge too.¡± ¡°That was in there?¡± the Red Queen asked, a weak voice. ¡°B-but why? That¨C¡± she stopped herself, schooled herself. Or so I thought. ¡°Uh¡­ you alright there cap?¡± I was suddenly highly aware of the bottles tucked away in my bag, and I worried that they might rattle. Also, it was good to finally know what it was that I would be drinking later. The Red Queen¡¯s face had started to turn red. And then she lashed out, punching a stone wall and leaving an indent¨Cin the stone. She screamed, ¡°godsloving, godslicking, dungshoving, burning-flaming-crownspit! Why in all the Firmament was that down here in the first place!¡± She paused, heaving for breath. Both of her minions appeared perturbed. The man and woman winced as their boss continued ranting, and the man went so far as to try patting the Red Queen on the shoulder. Surprisingly, she did not shrug him off like I thought she would. After she ran out of steam, taking deep breaths, she said, ¡°You get to spread the word,¡± she told the employee. The employee gave a pained wince, likely thinking of bearing the bad news to the rowdy mess hall. ¡°And while you¡¯re at it, let them know we have a potential intruder lurking. Everyone be on guard.¡± ¡°Aye, ma¡¯am,¡± the employee said, before hanging the clipboard to the wall; she left, heading back up. ¡°Is the shocker charged, I wonder?¡± she asked the toady who remained. ¡°I-I believe so, Cap,¡± the toady stammered. ¡°Good. I need to vent a bit,¡± she said, leaving towards the prisoners¡¯ cage. The toady remained where he was standing, watching after her. ¡°Come!¡± she called over her shoulder. He gulped but hurried after all the same. ¡°Relax,¡± she said, giving him a mean grin. ¡°I won¡¯t be using it on you.¡± ¡°Than¨C¡± he started to say, before she spoke over him. ¡°Probably,¡± she completed her thought. Her grin widened enough to show teeth. He winced, but followed all the same. I followed after and soon, we reached the pens. I paused just out of view, and the captain stopped at the gate. She kicked the gate, clanging it, loudly, so incredibly loudly. My ears twitched and my headache paid its complement. ¡°Wake up, louts!¡± the Captain shouted. ¡°What¡¯s this you got me down for?¡± The enslaved human, the artificer apparently, coughed and spoke up. ¡°Apologies, ma¡¯am!¡± the artificer said, bowing as far as his collar and leash allowed. ¡°I thought it might be worth telling you that another animal tried making a deal with the kunny.¡± The Red Queen scoffed, arms crossed, tapping her leather boots in a domineering fashion. Were she not such a horrible person, she might have been enticing. But as it was, she stared down her nose at the articer and left him squirming. ¡°You must be a fool for giving up this chance at escape,¡± she said. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Well¡­ uh ma¡¯am,¡± he hedged. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I?¡± ¡°Do you want to be punished?¡± she asked with a complex tone, overlaid with a mixture of tones that would have left me on my toes and weak in the knees, at least if I were in the artificer¡¯s position. ¡°Now tell me, why.¡± ¡°I-I didn¡¯t like my chances crossing the wastes.¡± He scuffled back and forth, refusing to look up at the Red Queen and meet her eyes. ¡°Really. Is that the only reason?¡± she asked. She leaned forward, resting her forearms on the cage and perhaps leering in. ¡°Or did you hope to curry favor for your pathetic sack?¡± She waited, staring him down. He cleared his throat. ¡°And that,¡± he said. ¡°So you¡¯ve already lied to me,¡± she said. The artificer groaned under his breath, and the woman kept speaking over him, keeping him from protesting, which it almost sounded like he was trying to do, at least at first. ¡°But how do I know you¡¯re not just spinning a tale? Taking advantage of the chaos?¡± ¡°-the¨Cthe kunny¡¯ll back me up, just ask him!¡± ¡°And how would I know the two of you have not conspired?¡± she asked. I thought I heard a malicious smile, as strange as that tone would be. The feline failed to rise to the bait. However, the boy chained to the otherside of the pen stirred and awoke ¡°W-what? M-morning a-alread-d-dy?¡± he asked, stumbling over words. His voice threw me for a loop. Rather than sounding young, it had a deep and melodic accent, opposed to the sharper tongue the human language preferred. ¡°You! Elf!¡± the artificer called out, ¡°Tell them! You saw the kunny, yeah? They¡¯ll make it worth your while.¡± That threw me for a loop, but I was startled soon after by a sudden sound. The Red Queen slammed her palm against the gate. ¡°Do not speak for your betters, slave,¡± the Red Queen said, with only a hint of anger in her voice. Like she was going through with the motions, versus actually caring. Though she probably would care, if the man continued to overstep. ¡°Apologies, ma¡¯am.¡± The artificer bowed as far as his collar allowed. ¡°Knife-ears, what do you remember of the girl, the kunny?¡± Now that the boy was standing, I noticed that his ears were sharp and long¡­ and elfish. ¡°H-hard-dly w-will en-nd-dear m-m-m¨C¡± the elf struggled to form words. A scar ran across his mouth, not fresh, but like a brand had been scraped across the lower half of his voice. The Red Queen grew impatient. ¡°Enough,¡± she said simply, sternly, but not unkindly. ¡°Return to sleep, elf. You¡¯ve your duties on the morrow.¡± ¡°Y-yes-ss,¡± the elf drew out, slurring and hissing at the same time. He settled back down on a shelf, where he had several luxury items, such as a ratty blanket, and a moldy pillow. With the elf dealt with, she turned her attention towards the man, her expression hardened. ¡°Now, artificer, tell me what you know.¡± Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Perhaps emboldened by the soft treatment that the elf received, the man straightened his spine and met the woman¡¯s gaze. ¡°I¡¯ve got a name y¡¯know,¡± the man said. ¡°Do you,¡± the Red Queen spoke, unamused. Concerningly, the Red Queen held out her hand, palm up, waiting. She seemed excited. ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡± the man said, missing a hint. Just out of sight to the artificer, the toady went to a shelf and pulled what looked like an extra-long cattle-prod, with bronze tubing winding the length up to the zapper. ¡°And you think your name is worthy of my lips?¡± she asked. ¡°...yes?¡± the man asked, swallowing hard, and slowly realizing his error. The strange spear length cattle prod was put into the Red Queen¡¯s hands. She pressed the trigger on its handle, and a white pop went off from the tip, like a capacitor discharging. ¡°Sorry! I didn¡¯t mean it, dung, I mean, ma¡¯am, I misspoke!¡± the artificer said frantically, trying to bow in submission. All the while he was babbling, the Red Queen looked on, continuing to play with the cattle prod, eliciting the occasional pop of a discharge. When he had finally run out of steam, she spoke. The Red Queen began monologuing as she casually tapped the cattle prod in one hand against the other. ¡°... I treat my property fairly. I feed you, water you, take you for walks. I give clear instructions. I gave you a warning.¡± She began to push the cattle prod between the bars, approaching the artificer, slowly, with electricity crackling from the tip. The man let out a sob, ¡°I said I was sorry!¡± But his pleas had no effect. If anything, it left the woman smiling, grinning at some joke only she was in on. She continued, ¡°were I a cruel woman, I would spare you your punishment now. But, as I said, I am not a cruel woman.¡± The tip of the prod met the man¡¯s flesh on the side of his stomach. There was a pop then a continuous buzzing, all the while he squealed, with smoke rising from the point of contact. A smell reminiscent of bacon filled the air. My mouth watered, just a little. ¡°But I can be,¡± she said. ¡°You got off lightly. If I didn¡¯t need you to craft our rifles, I might have broken your hands.¡± ¡°His craft doesn¡¯t need his legs, Cap,¡± the toady offered in a mirthful tone, likely just pleased the Red Queen was focused on someone else.. ¡°Hm,¡± the Red Queen hummed, consideringly, almost playfully, though her cold eyes never stopped piercing the poor artificer. ¡°That is true. Consider this your final warning. Disrespect will not be tolerated.¡± ¡°Yes, yes!¡± the artificer said, gasping in relief as the cattle prod was removed. He continued to profess his allegiance, ¡°I didn¡¯t mean anything by it. I never planned on holding anything back. I was just¨C¡± The Red Queen had withdrawn the prodder, but she pressed the trigger once more, letting it pop and discharge in the air. The man cut his whining short. ¡°A kunbeor came here,¡± the Red Queen asked. ¡°Yes or no.¡± ¡°Yes!¡± the artificer nodded quickly, without delay. ¡°I mean, yes ma¡¯am!¡± The cattle prod popped again, flashing the room in light for a fraction of a second. ¡°The kunbeor spoke with you then?¡± she asked. ¡°Y-yes, ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°What did this kunbeor say?¡± ¡°I-I only woke up part way through, but it¨Cshe¨Cwas talking about stealing your key and letting us out.¡± ¡°My key?¡± she asked, sounding a mix of amused and concerned. ¡°This key?¡± She pulled something up from her neck, a ruby pendant. It looked nothing like a key¨Cnothing at all like one. But now I knew where my target was and what it looked like. I just had to reach it, from where it was, on a tight necklace currently worn around the Red Queen¡¯s neck. Less than twenty feet away. I could magic up an Illusion, distract them, pull the key, and then¡­ then what? No, that plan would fail. Always have a way out. If I tried doing that, they would shoot me as I fled. The cavern here was narrow enough that a fusillade would likely hit me as I ran. Of course, there was another option. They were right there. With their backs turned. I had a knife. I could slink. I could creep up on them and disable them a little more permanently. It was risky though. Not many injuries would prevent them from shooting me in return, or calling for help. And the Red Queen appeared superhuman. I did not want to risk crossing her while within grappling range. I could kill them. But¡­ no. I refused to kill. That was not me. I could maybe threaten them? Sneak up behind the Red Queen, put a knife to her throat, hold her hostage¡­ ? Except, that never goes well. And I was uncertain that the other bandits would care if she died. It depended on how beloved she was. I knew she could care less if I took her minion hostage. I could hold the booze hostage¨Cbut that was ridiculous and bound to fail. My options, my reasonable options, distilled down to somehow picking the necklace off her without her noticing, killing them and taking the necklace, waiting for the whole thing to blow over, or¡­ leaving, without helping the prisoners. I could cut my losses and leave. I did have my own supplies. The one I thought was a child was actually an elf, and perhaps an adult, and besides, was treated not as terribly as expected. And one of the prisoners had betrayed me. But did all of them deserve that fate? Such was my internal dilemma as the Red Queen continued interrogating the artificer. ¡°This female Kunbeor thought to free the other, and you included? Describe her.¡± ¡°Some kinda kunny. Glowing cyan eyes. Purple fur. Couldn¡¯t see much in the dark. Big tail though.¡± ¡°Unusual. A rare variant? But why risk one on a mission like this¡­¡± she considered out loud, before asking the artificer more directly. ¡°Did you Union send her? Does your Union train such kunbeor as muscle?¡± ¡°No! At least, I don¡¯t think so?¡± ¡°I doubt they would renege on our contract either¡­ it must be a competitor then.¡± ¡°They might!¡± the artificer protested, before catching himself and stammering, ¡°uh, I mean, ma¡¯am, they might?¡± ¡°Perhaps. But there was a clause in our contract. We have asked you before. I will ask you once more, but not again. Will you join my crew? You will find the duties similar, but the accommodations much better.¡± ¡°Just gotta do the initiation,¡± the toady added helpfully. ¡°Just¡­ that,¡± the artificer repeated wanly. Whatever the initiation was must have been awful, at least worse than living in that cage. I wondered what it was. ¡°You should feel fortunate I¡¯m even giving you the choice of joining. You haven¡¯t seen me offering to the elf or the kunny.¡± ¡°But they ain¡¯t human¡­¡± ¡°You are all my property.¡± ¡°Is the initiation still the same?¡± the artificer asked. ¡°Heh, Yeah.¡± The toady seemed to delight in answering, and his boss allowed it. ¡°But we might go easy on ya. Gotta fill some positions.¡± ¡°I¡¯m an Artificer!¡± ¡°Enough!¡± the Red Queen clapped her hands. ¡°No more. Give your answer by tomorrow. If you think of anything else, let us know. In the meantime, we¡¯ll double shifts. But if this is a ruse? Well, you better godslickin¡¯ hope not. Call if she comes back. We¡¯ll have someone in earshot. Don¡¯t cock this up.¡± ¡°R-right! As you say, ma¡¯am.¡± The Red Queen handed the prodder off to her toady and walked off, with the toady trailing behind after hanging the prodder back up. ¡°And think about that initiation. Could always use an artificer.¡± she called over her shoulder. She paused, then added, ¡°a willing artificer, I mean.¡± ¡°Uh, yeah. I¡¯ll uh, I¡¯ll think about it, yeah! And I¡¯ll call if¨C¡± The Red Queen kept walking along with the toady, ignoring the artificer as he shouted back towards them. As she and her toady walked away, I heard her comment, ¡°I may be a little cruel afterall.¡± The toady laughed at the joke, though I could not tell if the laugh were true or solely to appease his boss. Regardless, I myself had mixed feelings that were best left unnamed. It gave me much to think about as I waited to ensure they had truly left. True to her word, the Red Queen did keep the toady within earshot of the prisoners, and it sounded like another human had joined him to help stand guard and protect their ¡®assets.¡¯ It disgusted me how they turned people into things, but I might have been limited in my options. Too many options. What I needed was facts. Information. I needed to answer a simple question: can I get the feline and elf out without the human alerting their captors to our escape? If we incapacitated him, then yes, that was likely. I still had yet to get the key, however, and it was almost certainly to be kept under vigilant guard now, at least for the next few days. Could I even stay here that long? I wondered. It would be risky. But first, I needed answers. I slowly approached the prisoner¡¯s pen. The cavern was kept in darkness, with only the dimmest light shining from further up in the cavern, where the bandits kept guard. As I came closer, I decided to catch the feline¡¯s attention. If his hearing was like mine, then he could already hear me breathe. But just in case not, in case my Blessings had improved my ears above and beyond baseline, and because I had yet to see any indicator that the feline had heard me, I scratched the floor with a toenail. His face came up, and his eyes, shining green in the darkness, focused on me. Consertingly, he shook his head. It was a small movement. I almost could not be certain. He repeated the gesture, more pronounced. But¡­ why? I wanted to ask. I might have mouthed it, almost whispered, but not quite, the same why I called Illusions silently. The feline nodded at me, mimed opening and closing his mouth, then pointed at his fuzzy ear atop his head. It sent mixed signals, but I finally figured out what he meant, when he turned to the artificer and spoke. He was using his conversation with the artificer to elaborate the point that he could not directly communicate to me. Clever, if roundabout. ¡°Your betrayal was foolish.¡± The feline was speaking to the man for what I assumed was my account, as the feline and I could not discuss openly with that apparent traitor listening in. It was too bad, since there were a few very pointed questions I wished to ask the man. ¡°Very foolish,¡± the cat said in his sinuous accent. ¡°These ones had a chance to escape. Now, now, these ones do not have this.¡± ¡°Shut it, cat,¡± the artificer spat. Notably, he still smelled of cooked flesh, no matter how he rubbed at his side. Those burns would require treatment. Despite the pain, he still managed to snarl at the feline. ¡°Don¡¯t wanna hear it. You and the other freaks woulda probably just killed or shackled me anyhow.¡± ¡°Not all are as vile as alqu,¡± the feline practically sneered. ¡°Oh yeah?¡± the artificer scoffed, perhaps somewhat forced. ¡°And what¡¯s that got to do with it? You think I don¡¯t know ¡®bout what you animals do to captives? I¡¯ve heard stories.¡± Instead of denying the vague accusation, the feline only chuckled darkly, ¡°only to prey, this one thinks.¡± ¡°Like I thought,¡± the artificer sneered. ¡°Better the god you know than getting eaten alive by some monster.¡± ¡°That hardly ever happens,¡± the feline said, an amused tone. ¡°But perhaps for some this one makes an exception?¡± Now I could not tell if the feline was joking or not. It sounded like the artificer might have been in the same situation, as the man fell silent. It was the feline that continued the conversation. ¡°Will the alqu join the other hescoria?¡± ¡°Why¨Cwhat?!¡± the artificer said. ¡°I don¡¯t even know what you asked. Speak Imperial!¡± The feline stared at the man expectantly while playing with his claws. The artificer scowled, ¡°I figure you wanna know if I¡¯ll join the Queen? Why? What¡¯s in it for you? Wanna report to your little kitty friend?¡± I was not a kitty friend. ¡°Curiosity,¡± the feline answered. ¡°Merely that.¡± ¡°Heh. Well keep wondering,¡± the artificer said. Then barked a laugh, again forced, carrying more bravado than humor. ¡°Know what they say ¡®bout that and cats. Maybe it¡¯ll kill ya and do us all a favor.¡± ¡°Answer this at least,¡± the feline said. ¡°Why? Why betray your chance at freedom?¡± ¡°Ain¡¯t none of us ever free. And I don¡¯t trust ya. Also, that kunny already might as well have failed. Might as well get something outta it. Now shut it. Some of us have work in the morning.¡± ¡°Hescoria alqu,¡± the feline swore. During the conversation, the feline occasionally glanced my way, and repeated the gesture of shaking his head. He truly believed that the man was an obstacle, and one we could not overcome. Or one that the feline did not feel like overcoming. And after listening to that conversation, I thought I would struggle convincing the artificer peacefully as well. I could always kill him I supposed, but that¡­ I was no killer. Then, to everyone¡¯s surprise, the elf stirred, giving both the feline and artificer a scowl of his own. ¡°C-ca-can-n y-you sh-sh-ut-t i-it-t?¡± the elf asked meanly, through much effort. ¡°Exactly. Knife-ears gets it,¡± the man huffed, and rattled his leash at the feline. I still struggled to understand why all of the slaves did not leap at the opportunity to escape. I tried working through their motivations, their situations. The human was right out. The elf seemed ambivalent. And the feline could be down with it, but not desperate to do so. Was life free that horrible that slavery was only slightly worse? I had seen the barren wasteland. Perhaps that environment could inspire wickedness in the population. But I refused to leave them without at the very least giving them a chance, a sliver, of hope. I approached the pen slowly while the feline watched. He shook his head, at least until I pulled both the bronze and silver keys out. I knew that at least one of them would probably unlock their collars. From there, somehow the feline could escape on his own. I hid the keys on the ground, under a rock, where the feline could see. When he walked by, if he was clever, he could swipe them, then unlock himself and free himself and flee. Or attempt to. It could have been my imagination. His eyebrows did rise though, and his ears flicked forward. He mouthed, ¡®thank you,¡¯ and gave a slight bow. Then, he shut his eyes. A deliberate end to the silent conversation. I backed away lest the elf or human see. I wanted to do more. But realistically, my chances of helping them were marginal. And the chances I would get caught were rising dramatically, largely thanks to the artificer. We would all have a better chance of success and living were I to leave and return at a later date, with a better plan and preparations. The feline had seemed to acknowledge this, as painful as the fact was. Compounding to that pain, perhaps diluting it with bliss: my right forearm burned once more, and yes, it felt good, but it was no consolation to the horrible feelings flowing through me. But still¡­ I was leaving at least two people bound in slavery. Stealth: 6/9 (+1) I kept telling myself over and over that the feline had seemed to understand. And yet, I felt like someone had taken my soul and shoved it in a closet. Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.3.8 With a heavy heart, I decided to escape. I could not help further, not with the artificer waiting to betray me; getting myself caught would do no favors. If I stayed further, I would prolong the risk of discovery, though I suspected I could hide for quite a while. I strongly considered doing just that, waiting. I could hide near the ceiling of the cavern in a corner, near invisible to normal vision. And with my Talent, I could hang from the walls for quite a while. But not forever. At some point, I would need to rest, my fingers were hardly invulnerable, they would strain. Besides, I doubted I could sleep while hanging from a wall. The longer I stayed, the more fatigue I would experience, the easier it would be to make a mistake, and the riskier it became. A good thief knows when to leave, and I had already taken all that I required. So why then, was my heart so heavy? Why then, did I feel like I had made this decision before? Never play the fool, dear. Be the good girl I know you are¡­ right. I shuddered. I would be Mothersworn if I stuck around further wallowing. I had decided to escape, and escape I would do. I made my way out from where the prisoners were kept. My first obstacle was the pantry and improvised wagon-bed. A sentry was there, keeping an ear out for the artificers, no doubt. It was the same man from earlier, the toady. He still stank of booze, though his eyes had lost their glossy sheen. After observing him, I cast an Illusion and slipped past. Even when his lantern cast light touched me, he never noticed. Had I wanted to, I could have slipped back into the pantry to gather even more. But my bag already hung rather heavily¨CI had enough. Greedy thieves, like hasty thieves, usually shared the same fate, a fate I endeavored to avoid. I had just passed the wagon when footsteps came from ahead, followed by the glow of a lantern, and then a woman. I pushed my back to the cavern wall, still covered by a shrouding blur. I recognized her, she was the woman who had been taking inventory earlier, who had been sent off to warn the Mess Hall. When she got close, she spoke out to the toady. I remained where I was to listen in. ¡°Everyone¡¯s gone riled up now,¡± she said. The man groaned, ¡°Can¡¯t you talk normal, Hanny?¡± Now that he mentioned it, she did have a bit of an accent, with stretched out vowels. It reminded me almost of a twang. She guffawed. ¡°But I am ya big mule.¡± The man scowled at the name, but other than a wet scoff, let the subject mostly drop. ¡°Yeah sure. What the cap say?¡± ¡°We¡¯re all about to do a sweep while stay¡¯n in pairs. ¡®S why I¡¯m here.¡± She finished, showing off what could be a rifle, but with more tubing than I expected, and a pipe for a sight. ¡°S¡¯pposed to keep armed, too.¡± The man groaned, ¡°more walking?¡± ¡°Nah,¡± she drawled. ¡°You and I got the light duty, just staying where we are.¡± ¡°Good. Think we can turn in?¡± the man asked. ¡°Don¡¯t see why not,¡± she said. ¡°Not like anyone¡¯ll be down here fer a while, ¡®n we¡¯ll hear ¡®em first.¡± She climbed up into the wagon with him and sat beside him, leaning shoulder to shoulder. As touching as that was, I needed to keep going. And of course, my right arm chose that moment to begin burning, which made me bite my lip, instantly reminding me of my canines. And my muzzle. I started to gag, but settled for a wave of a sick and gross feeling of disgust and self-loathing. I did my best to ignore that piece of my anatomy and focus instead on my escape. Because now was not a time to go lax; the slavers would be searching the tunnels. I needed to get out sooner or later. Though again, that niggling thought returned. I could just hide. The cavern was huge and dark and full of so many places I could slip and wait for a better moment. But then I remembered how well I could see in the dark, and that this was a world of abilities I had no understanding of, what may as well have been magic. One of the slavers could have Night Eye, or some spell, or an artificed gadget to reveal living creatures. I hated not knowing what the rules governing this system were! As soon as I reached civilization, I resolved myself to find out just what I could expect: unknowns killed. Since I could not rely on remaining unseen, I needed to escape sooner rather than later. So I made haste. But Hasty thieves are dead thieves. Staying still came with too many uncertainties, uncertainties kill, and the faster I got out, the safer I would be. So I made haste! I was coming up on the intersection to the tunnel that I came in from when I heard a pair of bandits approaching. ¡°...took my bloody Chargers!¡± a woman¡¯s voice swore. That woman was not the Red Queen, but a wirier woman, with a dusky complexion. I stepped off the path and climbed the walls up towards the shadows above the lanterns, well outside of the normal field of view. People seldom looked up, and with the hooded lanterns, the beams of light hardly reached upwards. ¡°Godsloving crownlickers!¡± A man swore. The woman hissed when he said ¡®crownslickers,¡¯ which I interpreted as a particularly heinous insult. He continued in a tumble of poorly thought out words. ¡°That, and my, my¡­ uh, yea! My knife! It got snatched too!¡± The beer stained rotund man slurred, walking alongside the woman. ¡°Ya sure you not really upset ¡®bout your girlie rag?¡± the woman mocked. Oh. I suppose I had taken an illustrated booklet. And while I had yet to investigate it in detail, there had been a few raunchy images on the cover. My cheeks heated just a little, and the fur on my tail stood up just a little. ¡°Shut it,¡± the man snarled. The woman snorted. After a bit, the man confessed, ¡°but yea. That got snatched too. Godspraying thieves.¡± The insults the pair used were truly fascinating. Stealth: 7/9 (+1) Mind: 50 (+1) While I waited for them to pass on by, performing their ¡®sweep,¡¯ both my arms burned. But they never passed. In fact, they stopped. Right by the tunnel outlet. Mothersworn fool that I am! Not only did they stop there, they headed into the tunnel! The cramped tunnel that terminated in a room, with the door I had been planning on using to escape! Were they leaving, or were they planning on staying? A litany of curses ran through my mind. It appeared that my escape might have just become that much more challenging. But I did not despair. I knew there was at least one other exit. And while I might not have known exactly where it was, I could find it. But what if that exit was guarded? The two that just passed through might not be sticking around¨Cthey could be passing through, or just doing their sweep. Nothing was certain yet. Though. If they were guarding the exit. Then it was likely the alternative exit was also guarded. I doubted I could get there before the sentries. So many assumptions! My hands clapped to the sides of my head, my claws partially digging in through my grimy-greasy hair, poking my scalp. The pain helped center me. I was alright, I just needed to escape. And the exit closest to me had just as much chance of working as the further, unknown exit. I would stick with the one that was right there, that I already knew. I entered the tunnel, walking slowly, carefully picking each step. The man and woman were ahead of me. I could hear them, but not see them. While I followed down the narrow tunnel, a thought occurred to me. If a third person followed from behind, catching me between. If that were to happen then there would not be enough space in the tunnel to really maneuver. I supposed I could wedge myself into the very top and hope the passerby was short. Fortunately, nobody came from behind, at least not right then. The pair I had been trailing reached the antechamber attached to the double doors to freedom. I crept forward, keeping to the shadows. The room was lit by two lanterns, one installed on the wall, and the other on the table. The beer stained oaf had settled down on a chair, resting his elbows on his knees. The dusky woman leaned against the wall near the barred wooden door. She was flipping a stiletto up in the air, catching and throwing by the tip. ¡°How long you think?¡± the oaf asked. The woman gave him some contemptuous side eye. ¡°What?!¡± the man said, sounding offended. ¡°Don¡¯t gimme that look. I was off duty! In bed. Sleepin¡¯ it off. Ain¡¯t right, s¡¯mone slippin¡¯ in like that while a man¡¯s sleepin.¡± She rolled her eyes, ¡°well maybe if you hadn¡¯t been so drunk then you might have acquitted yourself better.¡± ¡°Like you did?¡± the man scoffed. ¡°Remin¡¯ me then, how many o¡¯ them hundeor you kill then?¡± ¡°More than your slobbish sack,¡± said. Only a slight amount of heat was in her tone, despite the words, and accusations bandied. ¡°I bet you didn¡¯t get any,¡± he said, leering at her. She chuckled. ¡°Got one at least. Not my fault Cap¡¯s faster ¡®n me.¡± ¡°Hah! Barely any at all.¡± ¡°Which is one more than you got.¡± ¡°I ass¨C¡± he hiccuped ¡°-scuse me, I assisted plenty.¡± ¡°So none. Admit it.¡± They continued nattering while I came up with several strategies to get past the two. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. But I had yet to come up with any good strategies by the time that I heard footsteps echoing down the tunnel. Someone was approaching. The room was a dead end. There was not enough space to hide. I needed to leave. Immediately. Hastily. I settled on my least bad plan. First, I fixed the image I wanted. I had played with both shadow clones and illumination, and those were among those I was most confident in, other than a general chameleon effect. But a chameleon effect would not allow me to sneak past them, unbar the door, and slip through without notice. No, for me to escape, what I required was a distraction. ¡°Illusion,¡± I breathed. I focused on one of the first patterns I had practiced, [Flame]. On the table by the oaf, a flame sparked over the lantern. The Illusion clipped the lantern and table, but if a person did not know what to look for, they likely would fail to notice it. And when someone saw a fire begin spreading out of control, I hoped, and I betted, that they would fail to notice it. At first, neither the woman nor the oaf noticed. I pushed the Illusion, leading it to grow. From my earlier experiments, I knew that I could keep the Illusion going for about forty seconds. Once the [Flame]s completely encompassed the lantern, the woman finally noticed. First her eyes narrowed, then slowly her mouth dropped open. Suddenly she was a flurry of activity, kicking off from where she had been leaning against the wall and crossing the room in a stride, before slapping the oaf. Apparently while I had been strategizing he had fallen asleep sitting down. ¡°Wake up!¡± she shouted. Belatedly, I realized that her raised voice would draw the incoming footsteps on more quickly, as they heard the sound of the alarm. It was too late for me to decide on a different course of action, though. I was now committed. ¡°Hu¨Cwha?¡± he startled, reeling from the slap and feeling his cheek. ¡°Hey wait, you can¡¯t just¨Cyou¨Cugh!¡± He glanced at the lantern, and the Illusion spreading out from and encompassing it, and he startled back and fell off his chair, before scrambling backwards, getting tangled in the legs of wood.. ¡°Bloody gods! What¨CI didn¡¯t¨Cwhen did that happen?! Do something!¡± ¡°I woke you up!¡± the woman shouted back. ¡°It¡¯s your turn!¡± ¡°You!¡± He shouted back. ¡°I¡¯m not stickin¡¯ my hand in that!¡± ¡°Did fat rot yer brain?!¡± the woman demanded. ¡°That lantern¡¯s artificed! Pull it out!¡± ¡°No lantern¡¯s worth burnin¡¯ my hand in that¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯ll let the Cap know yer opinion then,¡± the woman rebuked. ¡°You¡¯re the one that started it¨C¡± ¡°-you can¡¯t prove that¨C¡± ¡°-don¡¯t need to, you fat sack of¨C¡± I doubted I would get a better chance than this. I left the Illusion in place, and began sneaking into the chamber, picking each step as silently as I could. I did not crouch, as I needed to move swiftly, before I ran out of energy, and before they noticed me. Were I to crouch and move slowly, the decreased chance of exposure would hardly be worth it. I would have covered myself in a [Chameleon], but I lacked the finesse to keep two Illusions at once. The only thing more suspicious than a spontaneously combusting lantern is one that also spontaneously exhausts without suffering any fire damage. I kept the [Flame] active as a result. The two continued bickering. I had reached the doors standing between me and freedom. They were two wooden doors that hinged inward, locked by a heavy bar which was held in place by gravity. I remembered slipping in earlier¨Cthe hinges were well greased, and only gravity held the bar in its brackets. Ideally, I would slip out without any being the wiser. I lifted the bar from the side, beginning to free just one of the doors. I only needed so much space to slip through. In preparation of locking the door behind me when I did manage to slip out, I unsheathed my knife. My goal was to reverse how I originally snuck in, use my knife to reseal the door behind me. Keeping silent was taking a toll¨Cboth in time and attention. The bar was wider than the doors, and I refused to simply let it clatter to the ground. I had just begun inching the doors open when circumstances changed. ¡°It¡¯s not gettin¡¯ any worse. Just loop yer knife through,¡± the man said. The woman glared at him, ¡°If it¡¯s such a good idea, why don¡¯t you do it?¡± He added just a bit sheepishly, ¡°mine got stolen.¡± Then, in a tone he probably thought was roguishly but came across as gross, he added, ¡°unless yer scared.¡± ¡°Go lick a god¡¯s sack,¡± she swore, but she did pull out a stiletto. She lifted the lantern¡¯s handle gingerly, using the tip of her blade. Her hand, even on the hilt, even separated by inches of blade, still ought to have felt the heat. I finished squeezing through the door and begun dropping the bar down behind me, first by holding it by hand, but then when the doors pressed too tightly together, I replaced my hand¡¯s position with the edge of my knife. This part was delicate. The bar was heavy, leverage was against me, and my blade did not have a large surface to begin¨C The approaching footsteps had finally arrived. I could no longer see what was happening, and the bar was just about back in place, when what sounded like a bull of a man bellowed. ¡°What in the ever loathing burning piss are ya twats going on about!¡± My ears twitched from the sudden volume, I startled, and my knife slipped, sending the bar thudding to the floor, and the door came partially ajar. The door was a lost cause. They would know someone just went out. I needed to put distance between me and them. To do that, I needed time. I pushed all my focus on the [Flame]s and flashed them as big and as bright as I could. ¡°Put it out!¡± the woman shrieked. Not sticking around to see how it went, I began sprinting. My pool of energy was just about empty. If I bottomed it out completely, it would take seconds longer just to begin refilling. I would need Illusions to further my escape. I dropped the Illusory [Flame] and began recharging my energy, but also ended the distraction. As I was putting distance between me and the door, their voices were becoming distant. But I still heard what I dreaded. ¡°The door! The doors! You sacks! Somebody got out!¡± the third voice bellowed and echoed out into the small valley. Closed: 3/9 (+1) Body: 39 (+1) The doors slammed inward behind me, the three of them spilled out, led by the woman. They looked disgruntled, irritated, and they searched their vicinity. It was light enough out that they left the lanterns behind. They fanned out to search the settlement, with the pudgy man running to check the workshop. I only spared a glance while I was running, I kept close to the side of the cliff, in the shadows, continuously putting distance between me and them. It was the woman that spotted me first. ¡°Under the lookout!¡± she shouted. ¡°By the bluff! It¡¯s running fast!¡± The third man, a very large man, was holding a bronzed rifle. He tossed it to her while he pulled out another gun, a heavy and long looking pistol with a clunky base. The rifle trained on me, while the big man sprinted for me, covering ground quickly in his long strides. The first man, the slob, came stumbling out from the workshop looking around frantically until he spotted me as well. But what really stood out, was that rifle. Pointed at me. My energy pool had not fully refilled, but there was some in the tank, and I was almost to cover. ¡°Illusion!¡± I focused on a [Clone] splitting off from me, running straight, while I dove towards the left in a roll. Illusion: 8/9 (+1) Mind: 51 (+1) A pink light flashed through my right peripherals. A pop sounded from behind me.The smell of ozone. I dismissed the shadow [Clone] to conserve as much energy as I could. I resumed the course, running along the cliff once more. I could not separate too far from the base of the cliff, as that would put me in sight of the sniper in the ¡®lookout¡¯ as the woman called it. There would be cover aplenty soon. But I had to escape the valley that the small bandit settlement had been built in. A hill was up ahead. I would have to scale the incline before I could take shelter from gunfire. But there was a problem, several actually, but the largest problem was that while I ran up the incline, I would be in full view of the woman with the rifle, and judging by how she shot my shadow clone straight on, she was a decent shot. The bellower, what I had taken to call the bull of a man with a cannon of a pistol, was matching my pace, possibly outclipping me. He might have even been faster than me with his long legs. This body of mine was short, and even running quadruped, I still was unable to beat him. The only reason I was keeping so far ahead of him was that he had to keep out of the woman¡¯s line of sight. ¡°Down!¡± the woman shouted as she ejected a coin from her rifle and pushed a coin with a glowing crystal in. The bellower dove to the left. Another shot was coming. I could not rely on the same trick I used last time. So I improvised. ¡°Illusion.¡± This time, I pushed my [Clone] as far as I could behind me, between the woman and I. I only had two ways I could move, away from the cliff or forward, I dove away from the cliff, again, and hoped she shot where I had been going. There was another flash of pink light. I smelled the ozone first. Then I heard a sizzle. Afterwards came the burnt leather, and the taste of metal on my teeth. I felt my side. An irregularity of flesh could be felt through a hole in both my shirt and jacket, close to my armpit. It had almost been a lung shot. No pain, at least not yet, must be in shock, I thought. Nothing to do but continue escaping. I would treat the wounds later. I resumed running. I was climbing up the incline, nearing a divot where I could find cover. I risked a glance behind. Closed: 4/9 (+1) Body: 40 (+1) The woman ejected another coin, no longer glowing. She shoved another one in. The bellowing man had made progress since the last shot, but once again she shouted, ¡°down!¡± The bellower ducked low but kept moving. ¡°Illusion.¡± This time, in my haste, I found a well of untapped creativity. I created a sheet of darkness, what I would later think of as [Shroud], and the sheet of darkness stretched out behind me, obstructing me over several times like a sail. Mind: 52 (+1) Illusion 9/9 (+1) My right arm felt like it was on fire. Had I been shot? No, my mark. What was happening to it? No time to look! Illusion (1/9): +Touch It must have been my imagination, but that sheet almost felt thicker. But there was no time to dwell. I could not focus on my arm, on the pain that was just now catching up. I needed to escape! Focus, fool girl! I ran for all I was worth. There was no shot. ¡°Can¡¯t take the shot!¡± the woman shouted. The bellower resumed his chase. But my lead was secure. The crest of the hill was just ahead, and then I would have cover from the rifle, and I would have a plethora of escape options to choose from, and I just had to get over that crest! I was just crossing the peak when my pool of energy hit empty, when my Illusion failed, and when I was once more in the riflewoman¡¯s sights. A flash of pink light. My left arm went numb just below the shoulder. It still worked, I thought. But I must have been hit. I finished clearing the crest of the hill. Sounds of alarm could be heard behind me. Before me, the landscape opened up in the most literal of ways. The cliff-face that I had been running along inverted, the hill I had been climbing split into a deep canyon, and other than boulders and rocks and lichen, it was tiered steppes, scrambles, and worse all the way down. The view was magnificent. Body: 41 (+1) Spirit: 46 (+1) The bellower was coming up behind me, and I could see his head on the other side of the crest, then his shoulders, he was coming in quick. I needed a way to dissuade him. To my right, a particularly steep crevasse started, an offshoot of the deep canyon. I scraped the bottom of the barrel, using all of that strange mystical energy that I had left. ¡°Illusion.¡± A [Shroud] formed between me and the bellower. He stumbled and broke through to my side and I moved the shroud to keep up. He could not see. He stumbled, tripped, crashed to the ground and rolled. [Shroud] ended, exhausted. I could not remain to watch what happened. The crevasse was deep enough I could not see the bottom. It was windy enough they could not take shots. It joined up with the canyon, giving me options of escape. It was down there, waiting in the darkness was unknown. It was the best of the bad options. The bellower was recovered enough to draw a bead on me with his hand cannon. I leapt forward and downward, diving and twisting. The handcannon popped. A pink light flashed overhead, above me. I felt the heat, as close as I was. It was a miss, I hoped. The cliffside started to zoom past, I picked up speed, accelerated, soon I would accelerate too much that any maneuvering would result in an uncontrolled crash and a messy end. I was facing downward. I had one good arm. I reached out and snagged the wall, a handhold forming. My momentum was too much, my grip failed. Skin was ripped from my palm. But my body was now torquing so that now I was falling almost sideways. I reached out once more. This time my grip held. Momentum slammed me into the wall. Athleticism: 3/9 (+1) Climbing: 8/9 (+1) Closed: 5/9 (+1) My breath was knocked out of me. But my grip held. My left arm screamed in agony from where it had been shot, from where it hit the rock wall, but that was a good thing, it meant my nerves were not completely ruined. My right arm trembled, my palm oozed slick. But still, my grip held. Wheezing, unable to catch my breath, but without a choice, I began crawling down. With my left arm almost unresponsive, my descent was more of a controlled fall. It was quite a ways down. The decline evened out gradually, until I found myself at the bottom, in shadows so thick even I struggled to see through them. Shouts echoed down from above. If they came with ropes, or if they had a Spell or ability similar to my Talent, then they would soon invade my latest sanctum. I started walking. I had to pick my footing carefully. The crevasse opened to the canyon; there was more light down there, and I was able to increase my pace, even though my legs trembled, and every jostle set my nerves aflame. Another canyon split off from the main trunk, then another crevasse. Whatever catastrophe had occurred to create the Wastes had truly shattered the landscape. It was to my advantage now. The shouts grew distant. I was losing them. Soon, I could no longer hear them. A few turns later, I knew I had lost them. I just hoped that I could keep them lost. Body: 42 (+1) Spirit:47 (+1) Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.3.X.1 Around her, suddenly, all her surroundings popped into place in an explosion of senses she had never previously experienced. She felt it, all of it, so clearly, and she then understood what the old vets had described as a lifting of the veil. It was all just so¡­ there! But she could not dwell, not in the midst of it. She sensed her opponent moving against her. Boke was swinging down with a blunt bastard sword straight for her shoulder. Kate, short for Katherine, knew¨Cshe knew¨Cexactly where that blade was, its trajectory, along with Boke¡¯s footing. She recognized his stance, she remembered the potential follow ups that he could chain from it. His attack was textbook. Solid, but still textbook. Without conscious thought, she reacted, all in one fluid motion. She parried and sidestepped, moving past him. As their blades clashed, she let her blade move with his, carrying her into a twirl as she kept her feet light. With his flank now exposed, she finished the spin in a pirouette, bringing her blade slashing down on his kidneys. Her blade bounced off his jerkin. It had all happened in a matter of seconds, and it was only after she finished her counter that she realized what had happened. That she had won. That she had finally succeeded. A familiar sensation of skin-too-tight and burning radiated through her body, starting from her ribs. Her head felt sore from the new sensation. Boke took the moment of her distraction to reorient and begin another lunge. She stepped back and held up her palm. ¡°Hold!¡± she called out. ¡°Had enough?¡± Boke asked. He grimaced while massaging his back where her counterattack had struck. ¡°Hardly,¡± Kate said, feeling her own side, where the burning sensation was fading. ¡°A break then?¡± he asked, furrowing his brows. She shook her head, sending more droplets of sweat flying. A smile threatened to break her lips. It took a bit, but Boke got it. ¡°No¡­¡± he trailed off, dumbfounded. ¡°It worked?!¡± ¡°I believe so,¡± she said. Her smile finally broke through despite her best efforts. She took a second, turning away from the onlookers, to school her expression. When she turned back to Boke, it was with a much sterner expression. ¡°Yes. It worked.¡± He held up a hand behind his back. ¡°Then how many fingers?¡± he asked. She paused. Everything behind his back was a bit fuzzier, but she could still make it out. When she did, she had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. Instead, she tried for a stern voice, ¡°that¡¯s rude!¡± she shouted. ¡°So you did get it then,¡± he said, awe in his voice. ¡°But was it the one?¡± he followed up, wanting to know if she had gotten the single most sought after dueling rune that the sweord glyph had to offer. It was a very specific rune. A lot of runes could have come about from the training, and a smaller subset provided useful preternatural awareness, but only a very specific rune could provide innate knowledge of everything in the rune¡¯s vicinity. And she had got it. She knew she had. Just like she knew every sand making up the training field. But rather than answering, she tossed her blunt sword up in the air with a twirl, before catching and sheathing with flair. Once her hands were free, she untied the thick cloth wrapped about her head, a cloth which very much covered her eyes, which had forced her glyph to adjust and grow into the newest sense. It had been a gamble, but it paid off, with dividends. ¡°It is,¡± she said, her lips again trying to curl upward. But she had been working hard on the habit of not smiling, so she squashed it down, or tried to. But she had finally got it! ¡°Well let¡¯s see it then,¡± he said. ¡°Go on, show it.¡± He looked at her forearms expectantly, which were covered by her jerkin. But her sweord glyph was elsewhere. Only her body glyph took up space on her left forearm. She reminded him where her glyph was by tapping the side of her ribs, just below her breasts. ¡°Asking for a show? For you or them?¡± She asked, then nodded to the crowd that had been gathering just to the otherside of the partition between the training yard and Muster Square. ¡°Crown no!¡± Boke laughed, ¡°The captain would kill me. I¡¯m too young to die.¡± ¡°Too young?!¡± Kate joked. ¡°But you¡¯re an old man! silver beard and all.¡± He grasped at his heart, feigning a mortal wound. He must have known the comment was in jest. Out of all the on-call knights, she and him had the best rapport. And sure enough, he winked at her as he looked up and met her eyes. Thankfully he never held her height against her, part of why they had a good rapport. Though really, she only topped his height by about a foot; but Boke was by no means short, more like average and stocky. She playfully punched his shoulder, though it was covered by his black and crimson padded jerkin. Though the colors matched the High Gaurd¡¯s uniforms, they tended to wash out everyone¡¯s tan skin and brown eyes. Personally, she was loath to wear them, because if they washed out the regular person, they would end up leaving her looking like a ghost. She dreaded the comments she would hear, especially from crowds just like the one gathered in Muster Square. Boke must have noticed the sour look on Kate¡¯s face as she looked towards the other side of the wrought iron fencing where the crowd watched and leered. He grunted, some disgust coming through his tone. ¡°Think they¡¯re here for us?¡± he asked. ¡°They can see only men anywhere,¡± Kate joked, or tried to, but some bitterness did slip into her voice. ¡°They¡¯re here for me.¡± It was so irritating! Sure, she might be tall, she might have pale skin, and she might have blueish blonde hair, but she was in no way a deviant or a mutant and she was still human. Really, only idiots would think that she was some kind of spectacle. And if they were idiots, she wondered if they might be convinced to step into the ring with her, or meet her in some back alley. Somehow, she doubted they would, at least, not after the first few gossips ended up with broken noses and missing digits. ¡°I¡¯m younger than your mother!¡± Boke protested, loud enough to draw Kate out of her mood. ¡°Besides, if they are here for you, it¡¯s probably for other reasons, besides your striking beauty.¡± Kate scoffed, almost laughed at the attempted flattery. She already knew how she looked. And unlike other idiots, she did have good taste. She looked great. ¡°It¡¯s just,¡± Boke continued, ¡°it¡¯s not every day you get to see a blindfolded girl demanding for a knight to strike her over and over¡­ and, well¨C¡± he coughed ¡°-a bit viciously as well.¡± Kate did have the bruises to show for it. Granted, all but the worst were already fading, but her thighs and forearms would be sore for days. ¡°Speaking of that¡­¡± Boke said, starting in a casual way that usually meant he wanted something. ¡°Since your scheme paid off ¡®n all, maybe¡­ maybe your mother won¡¯t make me spend a month scrubbing toilets?¡± he finished hopefully. ¡°The punishment does fit the crime,¡± Kate said, consideringly. ¡°And you were, as you put it, vicious.¡± ¡°But¨C¡± Boke sputtered, but Kate kept going. ¡°-But you¡¯re right, it did work.¡± Kate smiled sweetly. Boke groaned. She finished, ¡°So instead of a month, I¡¯ll talk her down to a couple weeks instead.¡± ¡°-But you asked me to do this!¡± Boke protested, bordering on distraught. ¡°I didn¡¯t even want to! You think I wanted to spend an hour wailing on you?¡± Alright, Kate admitted, Boke was genuinely concerned about the thrashing her mother would give him. And he was right about the upcoming thrashing, which was a shame, since he had only helped Kate at Kate¡¯s request. If Kate let him get punished for that, then their rapport would disappear, and he likely would refuse the next time she asked for a favor. So of course, Kate would intervene. ¡°Boke relax,¡± Kate said, before Boke could work up a further head of steam. ¡°I¡¯ll tell her it was all me. And that¡¯s only if someone reports us, which I¡¯m not sure they did. It¡¯s not like she could see from Garrison Tower.¡± A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Which was actually a lie. Kate had been in her mother¡¯s office plenty of times, and Garrison Tower definitely provided a view of Muster Square, along with the Arsenals and the training yard. But knowing that would only increase Boke¡¯s fears, and Kate already decided to intervene. There was no need for him to fret. ¡°Appreciate it,¡± Boke said finally, nodding and letting out a breath. Tension released from his shoulders, and he began maintaining his gear. Using an oiled rag, he wiped down his blunt bastard sword before putting it away in its training scabbard. As he worked, he eyed the onlookers, who were just now beginning to disperse. He must have decided enough was enough. ¡°Alright, enough gawking!¡± Boke shouted. ¡°Unless you all wanna spend a night in a cell!¡± A few in the crowd waved him off and went back to their business. For some, this was returning to their outdoor bistro, and for others it was shopping at the arsenals and artifice shops. Not everyone left, but enough that Boke could ignore the stragglers. He turned back to Kate. ¡°I take it your sweord glyph is topped?¡± Kate thought about not answering, but Boke had gone out on a limb for her, and for those who cared enough to spy in the first place, they would already notice her three runes. ¡°Yeah,¡± Kate answered. ¡°The glyph is topped. I need to start looking for another glyph.¡± Boke chuckled, ¡°Don¡¯t even think about it, you aren¡¯t ready.¡± ¡°And how would you know if I was or not?¡± Kate asked, a trace of irritation leaking into her voice. She hated it when anyone told her what she could or could not do. ¡°You¡¯ve got to take time to figure it out,¡± Boke said, reiterating common advice which was intended for common people, because most people never knew what they wanted out of life, and glyphs were a lifetime commitment; there were only so many major slots available in a person; and a lot of the best glyphs, the glyphs really worthwhile, never came cheap or without commitments. But again, that advice was for commoners. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think I will be waiting,¡± Kate said, deigning to answer the knight. ¡°Because then I¡¯ll be wasting that time that could be spent unlocking more runes.¡± ¡°Untrue,¡± Boke insisted. ¡°You still need to learn and grow your runes. Getting that done first will make it easier to unlock future ones later on whatever glyph you do end up getting.¡± Again with the common advice. Kate gritted her teeth and tried to explain without snapping. ¡°I think that you¡¯re underestimating how quickly I can learn.¡± To take her attention off the irritating gatekeeping common advice that had hindered her all her life, she started scanning Muster Square, beyond the fencing. Of the stragglers still watching, she recognized one of her friends there, waiting. That was excuse enough to end the irritating conversation. ¡°I need to go,¡± she told Boke while tossing her practice blade to him. ¡°Put that away for me, yeah?¡± ¡°Sure,¡± he said, bemused. ¡°But please remember to talk to the captain for me.¡± ¡°Course I will,¡± she said as she jogged to the fence. She already planned on talking to her mother about getting another glyph anyways, so the timing worked out. But first, she wanted to see what her friend was up to. When she reached the fence, she crouched then jumped vertically, two yards, before clearing the chain link fencing and landing on the other side. ¡°Hey,¡± she said as she landed in a crouch and stood up, brushing dust off her shoulder. Her friend, Gregory Silverborn, shut his mouth with a click, his eyes wide. He shook it off and smiled ruefully, ¡°I¡¯ll never get used to that,¡± he said. ¡°You were watching the spar?¡± she asked, wanting to brag a bit. ¡°Well yeah, but I meant jumping that fence like it was nothing¨CI could never do that.¡± ¡°You also don¡¯t have a body enhancement,¡± she shrugged. She actually was unsure if he had one or not, but if he did, it was a terrible one. ¡°I guess that¡¯s true¡­¡± he led off. A commotion was happening further into the square, a gathering of people. Kate ignored it for the time being. The square was large enough and had enough traffic that there was always something going on. And whatever it was, was unimportant. ¡°So you were watching my spar?¡± Kate asked, her lips threatening to curl upwards once again. ¡°What, with the blindfold?¡± he asked. So he had been watching her! ¡°Yep!¡± she said. ¡°What¡¯d you think?¡± ¡°Ahh¡­ yeah¡­¡± he was speaking hesitantly while rubbing the back of his scrawny neck and breaking eye contact. ¡°You were kinda getting whacked on pretty good there up till the end. It kinda looked more like a caning than a spar.¡± Kate winced, her smile no longer a threat. ¡°Greatness always has a price,¡± she explained, while hoping that nobody else thought she had been that pathetic. ¡°But what did you think about the end of the spar?¡± Kate was hopeful that the end result would stick out more than the painful welting journey. ¡°Oh, yeah,¡± Gregory said with more confidence. ¡°That part was absolutely amazing. The way you finally put the guy down. Did you finally get that rune unlocked, what, the proprioception one?¡± ¡°Yep,¡± Kate said smugly. ¡°Nice, grats!¡± he said, smiling widely. ¡°I don¡¯t think I could have done any of that. Especially not the getting beat on part. Ouch.¡± ¡°Yeah, that part hurt. Not gonna lie,¡± she said. And then only partially joking, she claimed, ¡°I am pretty amazing, to go through all that.¡± Gregory gave a little bit of a chuckle and a little bit of a nod, but the conversation somewhat derailed. That was alright though. The commotion towards the center of the square was still happening, and Kate was getting curious if it was something interesting, like a fight. ¡°What¡¯s going on over there,¡± Kate asked, pointing at where people were gathering. It was outside the range of her new sixth sense, but from where she was, she could see that the people focused on something. ¡°Oh, oh that¡­¡± Gregory said. The way he answered left Kate suspicious. So she prompted, ¡°Oh that what? Gregory? Do I need to go over there myself?¡± ¡°Eh¡­ probably not?¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s just some Halflights, and I know how you feel about them.¡± ¡°Ew, gross!¡± she said. ¡°What¡¯re they even doing here?¡± ¡°They¡¯re doing another one of their ¡®Visibility Patrols?¡± Gregory answered. ¡°I¡¯m not really sure what that means though.¡± ¡°Worthless publicity,¡± Kate said. ¡°They¡¯ve already got enough of that, just thanks to the princess. Don¡¯t know why they aren¡¯t doing what they claim to do. Plenty of crime happening across the divide too. What a waste.¡± ¡°My thoughts too,¡± Gregory said. But Kate was not done. The Halflight Vigilants were just the worst, basically a sponsored gang that went around stepping on the High Guard¡¯s toes in all the most irritating ways. Rather than being productive, they tended to show up afterwards and claim all the glory. At least that was the word in the garrison. At some point, Gregory¡¯s face grew slightly flushed and he started stammering. ¡°Say,¡± Gregory said. ¡°Instead of hanging around those l-losers, you wanna grab a bite and watch a show?¡± He finished, looking at her with some unknown expectation. ¡°Blegh,¡± Kate said, thinking about the last disaster of a show her mother had forced her to attend. ¡°That¡¯s even worse than being near the princess¡¯s pets.¡± ¡°Oh right,¡± Gregory grimaced, giving a forced chuckle. ¡°I forgot about that. What about swinging by the pits?¡± ¡°Ha! That¡¯s more like it,¡± Kate said, slugging Gregory in the shoulder and ignoring the way he flinched. ¡°We just have to kill a few hours,¡± Gregory led off. ¡°So how about getting that bite?¡± Again, with the hopeful tone. ¡°Why?¡± Kate asked. ¡°Getting food?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°I thought you would have been ravenous after that training. But I suppose if you¡¯re full that we could do something else too.¡± ¡°No,¡± Kate corrected, ¡°I meant why do we have to wait?¡± ¡°...because the fights aren¡¯t scheduled to start until this evening?¡± Gregory answered, sounding tremulous and unsure. ¡°Oh!¡± Kate chuckled. ¡°Oh that explains it. When you said Pits, I was thinking the Western Pits.¡± ¡°Across the divide?!¡± Gregory squeaked, the blood draining from his face. ¡°Those are illegal¡­ won¡¯t your mom kill us?¡± ¡°Pfft,¡± Kate said, waving off his concerns. ¡°That¡¯s how you know it¡¯ll be good. You in?¡± she asked, raising an eyebrow and waiting to see which way he would go. ¡°A¨C¡± he cleared his throat ¡°-maybe I¡¯ll take a raincheck?¡± he finally announced. The way he pulled at the collar of his tinkering coat revealed just how far his blush had gone. Kate was not a fool, she knew what was happening, but she was also absolutely not interested in Gregory that way. ¡°Hm. Have to get back to the shop then?¡± she asked. ¡°I thought you had the day off.¡± ¡°Ahh, well,¡± he hemmed and hawed, probably thinking of an obvious excuse for being unable to go to the illegal blood sports. Eventually, he must have failed, since he admitted, ¡°I was let out early today.¡± That raised a concern; It would be unusual for the boy¡¯s master to let him out, unless something were wrong. ¡°Why?¡± she inquired further. ¡°Not enough work?¡± ¡°You could say that,¡± Gregory answered, trailing off. ¡°Business has been a bit bad with the Union coming around. We might have to change locations.¡± He let out a weary sigh. ¡°You know, again.¡± ¡°Coming around¡­ are you guys safe?¡± Kate demanded, stepping a bit closer into Gregory¡¯s personal space, not that he seemed to mind. ¡°Did they threaten you? If you need help in a scrap, you know you can ask me, yeah?¡± ¡°Yeah, I know¡­ it just seems so pointless, you know? They¡¯re so big, and we¡¯re just one shop. I¡¯ve been asking my master to just join them, but he¡¯s refusing to drop his pride.¡± ¡°Well, if you need help in a fight, let me know.¡± Kate left unsaid that she would be less useful in any other sort of boring political engagement. That would be common knowledge to her friends. ¡°So, wanna hang out?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°I mean, other than crossing the divide?¡± ¡°Yeah, actually I gotta talk with my mom¨C¡± Kate began to explain her plan, when the commotion reached them. Apparently, the Halflights had been approaching the training yard for some reason. Which was irritating, since she now had to speak louder and with more effort, almost shouting to be heard over them. ¡°-about getting another glyph!¡± she finished. Having heard her shouting volume, a few of the people swamping the Halflights turned to give Kate an appraising glance, before going back to clamoring for a favor from the local heroes. Kate could not even think the word without mentally sneering. ¡°That¡¯s amazing!¡± Gregory shouting as well. ¡°Think she¡¯ll go for it? You still have plenty of slots left, right?¡± ¡°Pfft,¡± she waved him off, ¡°you know I do. And, well I¡¯m not sure about what she¡¯ll say. I guess I could always go see someone like Skingineer,¡± she mused. Gregory blanched, for the second time. ¡°How can you even joke about that?!¡± ¡°Who said that was a joke?¡± she asked, though she was grinning, though not smiling. ¡°But truthfully, I¡¯ll probably have to head up to Bath to see the nearest Sacred Artist.¡± ¡°Oof. Now that¡¯s a trip,¡± Gregory said. ¡°I¡¯d be pretty surprised if she said yes.¡± ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s why I got a plan,¡± she said. ¡°Trust.¡± At that point, the source of the crowd finally arrived. Ingestion 1.3.X.2 Two members of the Halflights approached, though hindered by the crowd pressing in around them, all so many shoppers and bored pedestrians who clamored for the heroes¡¯ attention. The First, the leader of the Halflights, raised his hand to speak. Kate considered plugging her ears, but she had no idea if it would work, or if the rumors of the First¡¯s gift had been overblown. ¡°Calm, good folks! Calm~¡± the First spoke loudly, clearly, and with a resonance in his voice that bordered on the ethereal and unnatural. His words overflowed with an intangible power that spilled over the crowd. People stopped clamoring so loudly, the crowd stopped pushing against themselves to gain the Halflights¡¯ attention. It was amazing that a boy approximately Kate¡¯s age could gain and warrant such attention, let alone influence, among people of all ages including adults. ¡°There will be many chances in the future to receive one of our tokens,¡± the First continued speaking, now with a projected and mundane voice, though people still listened all the same. ¡°Good folk, return to your business and provide us space; allow me a polite conversation with a talented young squire.¡± As he spoke, but only at first, Kate had found herself nodding along¡­ until he called her a squire. Her nostrils flared in irritation. She had been born with a higher title and had never in fact been a squire. The false hero had insulted her by calling her a squire. She had never scrubbed armor nor had she been indentured to a knight. The anger from that insult allowed her to rally against the man¡¯s gift, his unnatural charm, the compulsion laden in his voice. Almost succumbing to it left her feeling scummy. The First, above all the Halflights, disgusted her the most. Unfortunately, his public use of the gift was perfectly legal; she had checked. But he broke no laws so long as he never compelled a citizen to perform an illegal act. And even if he did, proving such would be impossible. She glanced around her for support. None of the knights were watching, all going about their own training in the yard, on the other side of the wrought iron fence. The plebeians had left, or were watching from a distance, and those nearest had been thoroughly ensorcelled. Her only possible ally was Gregory, and his face had slackened and his face had softened. Kate snapped her fingers in front of his face until his gaze sharpened. The First¡¯s gift was truly insidious. He went by an alias: Velvetcall. Other than his terribleness, everything about him was ridiculous and Kate hated him. And for good reason, she thought. He wore a gaudy and embroidered mask that covered his face like some kind of criminal. He wore a hood to shadow his forehead and conceal his hair. And it was not just that he and the Halflights felt the need to hide their true identities. He also dressed in clothes more fit for a party than for anything productive. She doubted his hands had a single callous. In fact, everything on him from the toe up decried combat. Supple leather cloth formed his boots as opposed to a hardened and protective material. Colorful and tight pants covered his legs, providing not one iota of protection¨Calthough that might not be entirely true: Kate thought that the bright purple pants might have been able to distract an enemy in a fight, but she doubted he had the training to make that work. Even his jacket, the part covering the most vulnerable part of a person, the easiest garment to add padding or armor to, even his godslicking jacket would be wearable at a dinner party. And the absolutely most offensive part was the weapon hanging from his belt. Not a bastard sword, nor a short sword, and not even a dagger. No, his weapon of choice was an artificed shock club. A shock club! Literally everything about him, Kate could find something to hate. Just looking at him left her blood boiling and gripping the hilt of her bastard sword. Unfortunately, she could not strike him down. Well, technically she could. But she would probably be either assassinated or executed within a day, regardless of her own position. Even more unfortunately, he and his companion were hailing her and nearly upon her. ¡°Ugh,¡± she groaned. She might still escape, but then Gregory would be left to deal with the twit. Still though, Velvetcall seemed more focused on her than Gregory. A timely retreat might be wise. Though a portion of her, an alien and strange part of her, felt too calm. ¡°Salutations and greetings, citizen.¡± Velvetcall gave a short bow towards Kate, while his companion provided a curtsy. Notably, he used a singular tense and he directed his gesture towards Kate. ¡°Perhaps you have heard of myself and my companion already¨C¡± ¡°-I have,¡± Kate admitted. He almost faltered for a second before pressing forward with confidence. ¡°My name is Velvetcall, and with me is my Companion Guesswork, and I am the First of the order of protectors and heroes called the Halflight Vigilants, sponsored by Princess Marissa herself¡­¡± It took a while for the man to finish, but Kate supposed if one has a capital-g Gift for speaking, that one would do a fair share of it. After the first time interrupting, she turned her attention to his companion, Guesswork, who was far more interesting, at least to look at. She wore tight leggings and laced long boots; her tunic hugged her chest and waist; and her jacket only covered part of her torso. Her hair had been colored lilac, to both match Velvetcall¡¯s getup and Princess Marissa¡¯s hair¨Cthough it was on good authority that the Princess¡¯s hair was naturally that color, as opposed to Guesswork the imitator. Unfortunately, as with the other heroes, Guesswork covered her face with a mask and hood, so that only her eyes were visible. And those eyes, brilliant green orbs that they were, were quite inquisitive. It almost felt that they reacted to Kate¡¯s inspection as Kate¡¯s eyes lingered. ¡°...Might I request your name, squire?¡± Velvetcall asked. His prompt broke Kate from her reverie. She shook her head a bit, as though to loosen the alien calm and eject it from her core. She recognized that his soothing tone and voice affected her, but while under its effects she found it difficult to fight off. But with that prompt, she had her chance. ¡°Yeah, but no,¡± she answered. She turned towards the fencing, intending to jump it. Just as she lowered to a crouch, coiling her legs like tightly wound springs¨C ¡°Wait!¡± Velvetcall said. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. That wave of foreign spirit latched on to her own. She knew it was foreign. She understood that. But it made it no easier to resist its integration. Suddenly, she felt compelled to just listen and to hear the guy out. If she had a glyph for protection, then she might have had an easier time escaping. Instead, she paused and turned back towards him, some anger leaking through her face, breaking through the artificial calm. ¡°-just tell me why you won¡¯t share your name,¡± he said. Despite his patronizing tone of voice, his request seemed reasonable. Afterall, he only wanted to know her motivations for not telling him her name, and giving him her name would have been a trivial request to begin with. A part of her wanted to grit her teeth, wanted to run, to insult the boy, to strike him down dead. But that was normal. But he had made a request, and under the effects of his gift, she felt compelled to answer. So answer, she did. ¡°Largely because I was offended,¡± Kate explained. She had wanted to explain further about why: like how he dressed like a foppish criminal, and how his particular gift should be outlawed and punishable by death. But saying the first thing that popped into her head was just not right. It would not be her. Guesswork snorted in an almost laughter and spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. ¡°Unusual for you, Vel, insulting a lady. And here I thought you were a gentleman.¡± ¡°I¡¯m of the bourgeois, actually,¡± Velvetcall corrected. ¡°But similar upbringings I suppose.¡± He turned back to Kate, ¡°I must apologize then, even though I am unsure how I erred. But please, tell me your name.¡± Velvetcall prompted once more, his voice so resonant that Kate almost lost herself in it. Once more, Kate felt compelled to answer, despite the innermost portion of her boiling and frothing. ¡°Lady Katherine Gaurdson,¡± Kate answered. ¡°But I prefer Sir Kate.¡± ¡°Bucking expectations,¡± Guesswork commented. ¡°Certainly more martial,¡± Velvetcall said. ¡°Well then, Sir Kate, I could not help but notice your exquisite swordplay earlier so I sought for a moment of your time to¡­ talk.¡± Kate had a nascent question, but it never truly formed enough to ask. But if he had seen Kate earlier and had been impressed, then it had to have been towards the end of Kate¡¯s spar with Boke. But if that was true, then how could he have seen Kate from all the way on the other side of Muster Square, especially with the crowds between them? But a more important issue erupted from the back of Kate¡¯s mind. ¡°Swordwork,¡± she corrected. ¡°Not play.¡± ¡°I beg your pardon?¡± he asked, surprised and askance, taking a step backwards. Gregory barked a laugh, before clapping a hand over his mouth as both of the heroes looked his way. ¡°Oh, do tell,¡± Velvetcall said, glaring at Gregory. Gregory, blushing furiously with the attention on him, stammered: ¡°she hates the term swordplay because it implies she¡¯s just playing around.¡± ¡°Ah,¡± Velvetcall uttered. Guesswork nudged Velvetcall and whispered in his ear. Nobody knew exactly what her gift was, but she was always backing up Velvetcall wherever he went, so it must have been complimentary to his gift¨Chis disgusting gift. The frothing turmoil in Kate was beginning to win out. This boy had dared trying to soothe her? ¡°Right,¡± Velvetcall nodded. He then laid on his resonance once again. It was difficult to focus on anything else. ¡°We¡¯re getting off track,¡± he said. ¡°Sir Kate, you have incredible skill. The Halflight Vigilants are recruiting, and those that join are given an Imperial Glyph.¡± An Imperial Glyph was the highest sacred art a person could receive, short of a curse from the gods themselves. The glyph would always provide a branch of unique talents matching the marked person. However, as with all good things, it came with incredible costs. Such as freedom. And though they did not mention it, the Halflights were forever at the princess¡¯s beck and call. If she was shortsighted, it might sound like a reasonable deal. Afterall, she serviced the Crown already, and the princess could one day inherit. But Princess Marissa was uncrowned yet, and Kate had no desire to participate in any court politics¡­ or, more importantly, Kate had no desire to walk around the city handing out foolish tokens while looking like a fop. Guesswork butted in at this point in Kate¡¯s internal debate. ¡°Joining us isn¡¯t that bad,¡± Guesswork said. ¡°And it beats some of the other things people do for major glyphs. Just consider us before going to someone like the Skingineer, yeah?¡± Velvetcall turned to Guesswork and shushed her, ¡°I¡¯m doing the pitch,¡± he said under a low voice, though still loud enough for Kate to hear. ¡°She¡¯s not going to join,¡± Guesswork said adamantly. ¡°This way, she¡¯ll at least consider in the future.¡± ¡°Ah. Well, if she¡¯s not going to join willingly then maybe¨C¡± Velvetcall started, with his voice beginning to grow in volume until the rest of the world seemed to be fading away, everything focused on the resonance in his voice. Geusswork butted in once more. ¡°Nope! Her mom¡¯s the captain of the High Guard, I really don¡¯t think that¡¯s a good idea. Please stop.¡± Velvetcall sputtered to a stop, the resonance fading like an echo in the distance. After a pause, he took a waspish tone. ¡°If you insist,¡± he said. But Guesswork had yet to finish: ¡°besides, Her Highness really doesn¡¯t want that baggage,¡± she said. ¡°I said fine!¡± Velvetcall snapped, the spell near entirely broken, though Kate still felt the unnatural calm pressing down upon her like a heavy blanket, smothering her. He turned back to Kate with another bow as he handed her a wooden coin. ¡°In case you reconsider,¡± he said, standing upright once more. ¡°You know how to find us.¡± As they turned and left, Kate turned the wooden coin over in her hands. She had heard about them, their tokens, which were somewhere between a collectible and a favor to be heard by the princess. Inspecting the coin, on one side was Velvetcall¡¯s name and on the other was a likeness of the princess. The art had been well done. Kate tossed it to Gregory, and of course, he fumbled the catch. ¡°That was something,¡± Gregory said, shaking his head as he looked over the token himself. ¡°Can you imagine getting an Imperial Gift? Like, what would you even get?¡± he asked in a wistful tone. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Kate trailed off, awash with a strange stew of emotions. But a growing emotion in the medley was one of relief, one that she had just narrowly dodged an execution. And as that feeling came, she had to wonder why. And as she wondered why, and as she went back over the conversation, and as she remembered Velvetcall¡¯s particular gift, she took that metaphorical stew and threw it in a fire. The heavy blanket of calmness had thoroughly been burnt off as all parts of her rejoined in the fiery froth of her blood. She stood there, in the square, shaking and trembling in an uncharacteristic display of weakness as everything swept through her. Gregory tried asking her what was wrong, but Kate took no notice of him, completely lost in herself, and the violation she had felt. The conniption lasted minutes. But finally, it faded enough for anger to win out, and she began to curse and swear. Loudly. ¡°That godslicking cunt!¡± she screamed. Gregory dropped the token and jumped. ¡°Wha¨CKate?¡± he asked. ¡°You kinda looked lost there for a bit. Figured you were thinking about¨C¡± ¡°Shut up.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± he asked, a hurt look on his face. Kate schooled herself, took a deep breath, and released. It was not Gregory¡¯s fault. He might not have even felt it, that vile intrusiveness of that terrible voice. But still, he could have tried harder to stop it. But again, not his fault. ¡°It¡¯s¡­¡± she started, but trailed off. If nobody else took issue with being soothed, then how could she explain. ¡°You can tell me,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± Kate said, shaking her head, focusing her ire where she could. She began storming off towards the Garrison Tower overlooking the square, where her mother was. Despite the delay, she still had a request to make. ¡°Wait, where¡¯re you going?!¡± he called after her, hurrying to follow her. ¡°I still need to talk with my mom,¡± she called back. And after that, Kate would begin planning on how to murder that godslicking son of a whore without getting murdered herself in turn. Ingestion 1.3.X.3 Kate refused to wither before her mother¡¯s ire. They were in her mother¡¯s office quarters, on the top-most livable floor of Garrison Tower. This was a position Kate had found herself in many times before, standing stiff while measured and weighed. Her mother remained sitting behind her desk, with wall length windows behind her. The windows gave Kate something to focus on besides meeting her mother¡¯s gaze. In the distance, banners flew from the eastern hill and the baron¡¯s fortified palace. It added a splash of color against the bleak Firmament. Her mother, Lady Killian Guardson, likely knew Kate¡¯s attention lay elsewhere, besides her lecture¡­ which might have explained why Killian slapped the palm of her hand against her table, startling Kate. But Kate did not startle from the sudden sound, as Kate¡¯s newest perception had been aware of Killian¡¯s muscles tensing and hand moving in real time. Instead, Kate had startled because Killian had resorted to such a mundane means to gather Kate¡¯s attention. ¡°You bring your hairbrained scheme to me, then doze off while I¡¯m considering it?¡± Killian asked hotly. ¡°Then you¡¯re considering it?¡± she asked, smiling at the prospects of adventure. ¡°Of course not!¡± Killian shouted. ¡°But what are your tutors teaching you if you cannot deliver a godslicking pitch?! Do you think I go before the Lord General with a plan to fortify the bridge, then take a nap as he judges it?¡± ¡°...no?¡± Kate offered. ¡°You better believe not! What are you even thinking? I¡¯ll have to have words with your tutor.¡± ¡°But why won¡¯t you consider it?!¡± Kate asked. ¡°It would work!¡± ¡°Just¨Cugh, no! You shouldn¡¯t even have to ask. You cannot visit Bath on your own. Why would you even think I would allow that? You¡¯re not even a legal adult! And you think I¡¯d let you venture off on your own with mercenaries of all things?! Utter ridiculousness.¡± ¡°I can look after myself!¡± ¡°Really.¡± Killian crossed her arms and looked down her nose at Kate, even though Killian had remained sitting. What little light streamed in from the window cast an intimidating shadow around Killian, making it hard to even see her angry brown eyes. ¡°Yes really!¡± ¡°I suppose you do have some experience with questionable persons of late.¡± Within Kate¡¯s mind, warning bells began ringing. Her mother had used that tone. ¡°W-what do you mean?¡± Kate asked, already cringing at her own cowardice. ¡°Oh?¡± Killian asked. That tone again, the one that all mothers have, that all children loathe, the one that said the mother knew the guilt of the crime already, the one that said the mother was stringing the child along, playing with the victim. That sadistic pleasure, that schadenfreude, that tone. ¡°You mean you thought I didn¡¯t know?¡± Killian asked. ¡°Know what?¡± Kate cringed. She decided the best course of action was to refuse admitting to any wrongdoing. It was her only hope, which she knew, since she had been down this road before. Killian might not know something already, but if Kate admitted to anything, somehow Killian would dig and dig until the list of crimes far outweighed whatever Killian had originally known. So no, Kate kept her trap shut. ¡°Your forays into the western district, across the divide¡­¡± Killian led off, likely fishing for dirt. Except, the bait Killian fished with already was bad enough. Of course, when Kate had done it, she knew she might have been found out. That had always been the risk of the game. And depending on which time Killian was talking about, it had been a good time, and it had been worth it. But that it was coming up now? Why bring it up now, when Kate actually needed permission to do something? It was almost as if¡­ oh, oh that was diabolical. Kate wisened up to her mother¡¯s plots.. ¡°You thought I didn¡¯t know?¡± Killian finally continued, likely realizing that Kate refused to further incriminate herself. ¡°About your liaison with a pit boss even?¡± Oh, yeah¡­ that trip had totally been worth it, Kate thought. Her lips curled up a bit recalling the visceral spray and the tension of fighting with a live blade. But if Killian knew about that already¡­ Kate almost complained about how boring it was that proper blood sports were outlawed. ¡°...If you thought it secret,¡± Killian, still continued lecturing. ¡°Then you are clearly not competent enough to venture out on your own. But now, to find a fitting punishment¡­¡± Killian trailed off once more, allowing Kate to stew on this alleged punishment. However, Kate and Killian both knew already where Killian was going with this. Kate had not been fooled. And yet, Kate took some of the bait all the same, in her own ploy to drag the fisherman (her mother) into the ghoul infested waters. ¡°You knew?¡± Kate asked, putting on her best tremulous act that she could. It ended up more as a smirk than anything. Killian snorted. ¡°Of course I did. You think I won¡¯t have tails assigned to my own daughter? The city is dangerous.¡± ¡°I thought I lost them,¡± Kate muttered, wondering how she had missed a knight trailing after her. She had been using the forum malls to lose them out a side street, but if they knew which street she used, they could have had someone innocuous waiting. Killian had her ¡®ah-ha!¡¯ moment. As though she had won. As though she had defeated Kate. ¡°The fact you thought that and still failed is proof enough you don¡¯t deserve this trip,¡± Killian finished sealing the trap, or so she thought! Kate would not be deterred. ¡°Why bring this up?¡± Kate asked, already knowing her mother¡¯s ulterior motives. ¡°This is the first time you made a request,¡± Killian said. ¡°Actions have consequences, Katherine.¡± ¡°Ha!¡± Kate barked. The counterbait was taken, and now it was time for Kate to reverse the trap in a double trap! ¡°That¡¯s rich,¡± Kate said. ¡°So you held this in reserve, waiting to smite me? You could have, should have, punished me already. That you waited till now? Not right at all.¡± Kate just barely kept herself from smiling at her own victory. But apparently, Killian did not realize her defeat. ¡°And now you will instruct your mother on how to raise a daughter?¡± Killian asked sarcastically. ¡°Especially one such as yourself? So headstrong and hot blooded? So reckless and quick tempered? Think this an easy task?¡± Kate scoffed, realizing that perhaps her upset had been reversed, or at the very least countered. Regardless, it would not matter. Kate would get that glyph, regardless of what her mother did or said. ¡°For your punishment, I think additional studies are required. Perhaps, a new tutor.¡± Killian hummed thoughtfully. ¡°One on a subject you¡¯re particularly short on¡­¡± ¡°C¡¯mon,¡± Kate said, rolling her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re not gonna scare me that easy.¡± ¡°Oh, you asked for it,¡± Killian scolded. ¡°Maybe mathematics? I know you struggled on that subject.¡± ¡°Because it has nothing to do with the sword!¡± ¡°Not everything is about dueling and killing,¡± Killian admonished. ¡°Tact? No¡­ etiquette. Yes, I think that is where you need the most polish¡­¡± Kate might have cringed. Just a bit. ¡°...I¡¯ll find a governess for you. You¡¯ll have plenty of time to master your manners, since you¡¯re not to leave the tower for the next month.¡± ¡°Yeah, sounds real fair, mother,¡± Kate said, still unbothered. ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking,¡± Killian said. ¡°And so you know, it¡¯s not going to work.¡± ¡°What am I thinking then?¡± Kate asked jovially. ¡°That you¡¯ll sneak out and do whatever it is you¡¯re planning on your own. Likely end up indentured or dead in a ditch. Or worse, conscripted to a colony. No, you will not. I¡¯ll have knights guarding all your little hidey holes and seal your perimeter breaches.¡± Kate was getting a little worried at this point, but she still had routes she was sure would work. ¡°Including the old sewer system¨C¡± ¡°Mother!¡± Kate snapped. ¡°-you need to take this seriously!¡± Killian shouted back. ¡°You¡¯ll end up dead in a ditch at this rate. My own daughter, volunteering to fight in a pit? And wanting to consort with mercenaries?! Outrageous! It¡¯s time you began preparing for your future seriously!¡± They both settled into an awkward silence. Kate stewing on her punishment, and Killian doing whatever Killians do. A full month, Kate kept thinking. She was already plotting new escape routes. This would be a challenge. Killian broke the silence with a heavy sigh. ¡°Katherine, I see you thinking. Your face is expressing every little plan that runs through your head. You think I don¡¯t know my own daughter?¡± ¡°I need my next glyph,¡± Kate stated bluntly. ¡°I need it.¡± ¡°But why? Why do you need it right now?¡± ¡°Because I¡¯m wasting time otherwise!¡± Killian took what could be considered a vaguely conciliatory tone. ¡°You¡¯re still growing plenty fast, and this very year you begin at the Academy. You¡¯ll get another glyph then.¡± ¡°Other martials will have a bigger head start!¡± Kate protested. The Academy, short for Royal Academy East, held three curriculums: Management, Social, and Martial. Of course Kate would enter on the Martial track. But what Killian referred to was the fact that each of the tracks provided a single relevant glyph, with better quality glyphs going to those that could pay for it¨Cor provide their own materials. ¡°I highly doubt that any of the other children will be more advanced along their paths than you,¡± Killian said. While normally a cold and stern woman, a trace of pride leaked into her voice. ¡°And you¡¯re not exactly wasting time between now and then. Your Body still has room to grow, as do each of your runes. And that is beside the skill to use it all effectively.¡± Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. ¡°Yeah, but I can already use it all effectively¨C¡± Kate started. ¡°-You just received your third rune today.¡± Killian shut her down. ¡°Yeah, but I can do all of that while I work on getting new runes!¡± Killian pointed, now pacing excitedly, thinking of all the different options out there, all of the flavors her progression could take, if only she had access to a sacred artist! ¡°Katherine.¡± Killian stated. ¡°But mom!¡± Kate protested, not giving up. Not when it was her future at stake, not her mother¡¯s. Killian groaned, rubbing her temples with both hands. ¡°Your plan is far too risky for me to consent to,¡± Killian said, slowly breaking down. ¡°It¡¯s reckless.¡± It was progress, and Kate would take it. Now to worm into those cracks and expand until the edifice of parental strangulation was torn down and pissed upon. ¡°Yeah, I think so to,¡± Kate said, grinning. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯d sign up with some Mercs heading north. It¡¯ll be great!¡± ¡°That is not reassuring!¡± Killian said. ¡°Not at all! How many mercs have you met? Do you know the type of people in their guild? Terrible!¡± ¡°Of course I¡¯ve met them!¡± Kate said, referring to the fact that the Merc Guild Hall abutted Muster Square. Mercs were always coming and going. They were always interesting, especially the hardened women. Killian groaned, more frustration in her voice. ¡°And then there are the potential bandits, hundeor, risks of rockslides, and not to mention the dangers when you get to Bath itself! It¡¯s a big city, not like Southbridge. Not like you¡¯re used to. They¡¯re Marked for Crown¡¯s sake!¡± Kate already fantasized about visiting the fabled infinite dungeon offshoot. The thing that separated the towns from Marked cities. The thought of all the fights she could handle, and of an actual arena, left her giddy. ¡°Your face right now makes me highly doubtful that you would survive.¡± ¡°I¡¯d be¨C¡± Kate started to say, but was interrupted. There was a single knock on the entryway door, near where Kate had left Gregory out in the hall. After the knock, the door flew open. Only one person could get away without waiting for Killian¡¯s permission. ¡°-Aunt Jan?¡± Kate asked. Lieutenant Janet Muleater, Killian¡¯s sister, entered the room and immediately grabbed Kate by the shoulders, twisting her around to inspect her niece. Kate looked down to meet Janet¡¯s eye, a little confused at the antics. Janet tended to be a bit strange, but usually towards the lighthearted end of strange, and not the concerning. ¡°Janet!¡± Killian scolded. ¡°I was in the middle of a discussion with my daughter, your niece¡­ why¨Cyou¡¯re not paying attention to me at all, are you?¡± Killian asked, eventually stopping, probably realizing that Janet was behaving uncharacteristically concerned. ¡°Kate, you in there?¡± Janet asked. She pinched Kate¡¯s chin and cheeks with rough hands and twisted Kate¡¯s head each way, squishing Kate¡¯s cheeks. Thoroughly confused by the weirdness, Kate pulled back as much as she could. Janet followed, not releasing Kate¡¯s face. ¡°Aunt Jan?¡± Kate asked, though her speech was hindered by Janet. ¡°Let go!¡± Kate tried slapping Janet¡¯s hands away, but Janet pulled Kate into a tight hug. ¡°Heh, you¡¯re still you.¡± Janet said, giving a relieved chuckle. ¡°Of course I am!¡± Kate said, finally pushing Janet away. ¡°So, uh, yeah¡­¡± Janet acted marginally embarrassed. ¡°I was just coming to congratulate you after I heard the good news!¡± Kate took a few steps back when it looked like Janet might try to embrace her again. ¡°Er, thanks,¡± Kate said. ¡°This¨Cputting all this aside,¡± Killian started, seeing that the strangeness had stopped. ¡°What have I told you about knocking?¡± Killian scolded. ¡°But I did knock,¡± Janet smirked. While also a knight, Janet led the Low Guard, which stood independent from Killian¡¯s forces. This, combined with the fact they were sisters, allowed Janet certain privileges that even Kate lacked. Such as excessive ¡®backtalk.¡¯ ¡°You¡¯re also supposed to wait after knocking!¡± Killian said, ¡°You know this!¡± It was actually common sense, but Aunt Jan could never be bothered about that. ¡°Huh. Is that how it works?¡± Janet joked. ¡°Anyways, I came to find my niece when I heard the good word, and also to ask about a few¡­ let¡¯s call them concerns? Yeah, concerns.¡± A wave of trepidation welled up in Kate. While Janet might be the friendlier of the two, neither woman could have held their positions or even achieved them in the first place unless each woman had a certain steel beneath their skin. Kate would not be fooled by Janet¡¯s usual casual act. ¡°Go on,¡± Killian said, frowning. ¡°What¡¯s this I heard about my niece getting caned in the training yard?¡± Kate winced. That would not be how she would have put it, and she decided to step ahead of the arrow before it landed on Boke instead. ¡°That was all my idea, to help get my third rune.¡± ¡°And a foolish idea at that,¡± Killian scoffed. ¡°As if any of my knights would come up with such a fool ploy, let alone follow through with it.¡± ¡°Is it that foolish if it works?¡± Kate said. Results mattered. ¡°In front of all to see in Muster Square?¡± Killian nearly shouted, ¡°Yes!¡± ¡°Well where else would I have done it?!¡± Kate asked quickly, the words tumbling out. ¡°Why¡¯d you need to do it anyways?!¡± Killian demanded. ¡°And how¡¯d you convince old Bokey-boke to go along with it?¡± Janet asked, using her pet name for the knight. Kate struggled to explain exactly how she had convinced Boke, so instead said simply, ¡°we have rapport. Also, why¡¯re we judging my methods? They worked!¡± ¡°It could have worked had you chosen to engage in such foolishness in a cellar, or our private yard. Not the one by Muster Square!¡± ¡°Ah, it wasn¡¯t that bad, eh?¡± Janet prompted. ¡°And the kid¡¯s right, it did work.¡± Killian glared at Janet, held a finger up, looked at it, almost as if at a loss, then shook her head and let out a deep breath. ¡°Fine. Whatever. I¡¯ll deal with my daughter later. Why¡¯re you here?¡± ¡°We~ell, there was another issue,¡± Janet said. ¡°Similar, related, though a bit different in that the blame doesn¡¯t fall all the way with my niece¡¯s decision making.¡± ¡°But¡­ what?¡± Kate asked, trying to think of any more recent ploys. It had been weeks since she had snuck out to fight¡­ and Janet would never have sat on a juicy piece of gossip like that for that long. So what was it, Kate wondered. ¡°Well, after her little demonstration,¡± Janet said. ¡°She apparently had an encounter with the Halflight twits we all know and hate.¡± ¡°No,¡± Killian groaned. ¡°Which one?¡± ¡°Velvetcall,¡± Janet spat. Killian narrowed her eyes at Janet, then faster than Kate could track, Killian was over the desk then in front of Kate, glaring up at her daughter. ¡°And you did not think to mention this!¡± Killian¡¯s voice was tight with restrained emotion, almost a hoarse whisper. ¡°I¡¯m alright mom!¡± Kate said, trying to wave off the concern. ¡°I mean yeah, I hate the guy too, but his gift wears off pretty quick.¡± ¡°Not always,¡± Janet said darkly. ¡°No, not always.¡± Killian agreed, her face narrowing into pinched ire. ¡°You don¡¯t see the reports. Nothing untoward yet, but he can leave a permanent impression. You¡¯re sure you¡¯re¨C¡± ¡°-Mom!¡± Kate said, fighting to get a word in edgewise. ¡°I¡¯m still me. Seriously, he just tried his soothing charm. And it was right there next to the training yard, next to the knigts. It¡¯s fine.¡± Kate might have failed to mention that she was already fantasizing about murdering the boy, but that likely went without saying. They probably all were. If not for the princess, that boy would already be dead and rotting in a gutter. Fantasies of murder aside, the older women continued their conversation. ¡°What was¨Cwhy was that person even talking to you in the first place?¡± Killian demanded, emphasizing the word person to the point that it served as its own curse. ¡°To recruit me¡­¡± Kate explained, then trailed off, having an idea. ¡°Huh.¡± Killian glared up at Kate, and Janet let a strangled laugh. ¡°No!¡± Killian said first. ¡°But!¡± Kate said, she had not even said what her idea was yet! ¡°Agree with your mom here kid. By the fallen gods no.¡± ¡°Absolutely not!¡± Killian insisted. ¡°An Imperial Glyph though¡­¡± Kate trailed off. ¡°I thought you were smarter than that!¡± Killian shouted. ¡°But I need another glyph, and that is the best one available¡­¡± ¡°And you can¡¯t wait till the academy, why?¡± Janet asked. ¡°That¡¯s what I asked her too!¡± Killian said. ¡°She¡¯s too impatient.¡± ¡°Ugh! We¡¯ve been over this!¡± Kate said. ¡°I don¡¯t want to lose my head start against the other martials. And eventually I want to tourney. I need every edge if I¡¯m going to make it.¡± Killian shook her head slowly but remained silent, glowering. Probably considering all the ways to trap Kate in the tower, to keep Kate from escaping and gaining even more power, even more experience. Janet was the one that broke the fresh wave of silence. ¡°I know you well enough that you came here with a plan in mind¨C¡± Janet said. ¡°-a fool brained plan,¡± Killian interjected. ¡°So spill,¡± Janet finished. ¡°I¡¯ll sign up with some mercs guarding a caravan north to Bath to get a glyph.¡± ¡°And the way back?¡± Jillian asked. ¡°I¡¯ll find another caravan,¡± Kate hedged. Likely, Kate would actually try traveling solo, especially with a new glyph in need of runes. Getting a timely ambush would offer a great chance to fast-track that. But of course, Kate was not about to admit to that. Killian gestured to Kate in a ¡®see what I put up with,¡¯ motion. While Janet coughed to suppress a laugh. ¡°I dunno, Kill,¡± Janet said. ¡°I think the plan¡¯s got merits.¡± ¡°Oh not you too,¡± Killian groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. ¡°No, hear me out!¡± Janet said. ¡°So she travels with a caravan, what¡¯s the worst that can happen.¡± ¡°She¡¯s an impressionable young woman,¡± Killian said. ¡°And there will be¡­ mercenaries.¡± ¡°So instead of mercenaries, we go with her and bring a few knights. We¡¯ve been meaning to take a vacation anyways.¡± Kate began to feel hope. She had not expected her aunt to support this plan. ¡°I can¡¯t get away from the garrison to take you north, not with the theatrics happening across the bridge.¡± ¡°That¡¯s one way to describe the turmoil wiping out the Crown¡¯s colonies,¡± Janet said, chuckling. Killian growled. ¡°If only that were all happening.¡± With Janet as an ally, Kate decided to push. ¡°You don¡¯t have to be the one to take me,¡± Kate said, thinking herself quite the problem solver. Ingenious really. Time away from her mother, another glyph. A win-win, in Kate¡¯s book. ¡°Of course I would be there!¡± Killian said, sounding offended. ¡°Your second glyph is a big deal! And you know how dangerous it is from here to Bath? You¡¯ve never read the reports, but I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard stories.¡± ¡°Yeah, but that¡¯s exactly why my plan¡¯ll work!¡± ¡°No,¡± Killian crossed her arms. ¡°But you didn¡¯t even hear it!¡± ¡°And I don¡¯t need to! It¡¯s your second glyph! What mother wouldn¡¯t be there for their daughter for that?¡± ¡°Ours wasn¡¯t,¡± Janet said dourly. ¡°Our parents weren¡¯t ideal role models,¡± Killian said. ¡°I¡¯m trying to do better.¡± ¡°And you are!¡± Janet said. ¡°But sometimes little chicks hafta fly¡­¡± ¡°Spoken as though you¡¯ve raised children,¡± Killian muttered. Janet¡¯s face went from amused to a hurtful grimace. Killian winced. Kate bet that her mother immediately regretted the comment but could not exactly apologize. ¡°But then again, you have been like a second mother to Kate,¡± Killian offered. ¡°Best Aunt,¡± Kate added, hoping her aunt would take Kate to Bath to get that next glyph. ¡°Since you¡¯re such a doting aunt,¡± Killian said, ¡°what do you think I should do with her?¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± Janet said, letting a small smile curl her lips. ¡°if you¡¯re asking my opinion¡­ I think that young Kate here¡¯s already better than most squires¨C¡± ¡°-all of them,¡± Kate bragged. She really was the best. ¡°-all the squires, and if she gets our help to pick out the right glyph and ink, then the process of actually getting it done, if from a sacred artist, is straightforward. The only risk would be getting to the one up in Bath. Which¨C¡± Aunt Janet held up a finger to delay any protests ¡°-could be mitigated with the right plan, which I¡¯m sure Kate has?¡± Janet and Killian turned towards Kate expectantly. Kate, impatient, excited, and trembling, could not help but blurt out her genius and very well thought out plan. ¡°Caravaner¡¯s guild! I mean¨Cer¨CI¡¯ll sign up as an escort.¡± ¡°Huh.¡± ¡°You cannot enroll as a Merc,¡± Killian said, sounding offended. ¡°That¨Cjust no. I don¡¯t care what your aunt says. No. I refuse.¡± ¡°No, of course I wouldn¡¯t join!¡± Kate said. ¡°But they take on mercs with credentials, and with you I¡¯ve got a better rep than most of them.¡± ¡°You¡­ you want to sign up as a guard to a caravan north?¡± her mother asked, dubious but thoughtful at once. ¡°Yeah!¡± ¡°You know, they probably would take her on,¡± Aunt Janet said thoughtfully. ¡°And it should be relatively as safe as it gets.¡± ¡°Assuming the other guards are reliable¡­¡± Killian said, now thoughtful. After a pause and some deliberation, her mother reached her verdict. ¡°Fine,¡± Killian agreed, though somewhat unhappily. ¡°Yes!¡± Kate shouted, loud enough that most of the Crown¡¯s Barracks must have heard. ¡°Under conditions¨C¡± her mother held up a finger, and Aunt Janet nodded along. ¡°Of course, name them.¡± ¡°Your Aunt will take a squad along with you, you have to negotiate with the Caravan¡¯s guild yourself, and¨Cand!¡± Killian kept her finger up high. ¡°I have to approve both the glyph and the ink.¡± ¡°Deal!¡± Kate said, before rushing out. Gregory joined her outside the office as Kate rushed to the stairs. ¡°So?¡± he asked, struggling to keep up. ¡°We just gotta talk with the Caravaner¡¯s Guild,¡± Kate said, shouting over her shoulder. Gregory snorted, ¡°Oh that¡¯s all¨C¡± he was panting, but began catching his breath as they began down the flight of stairs. ¡°Have you ever negotiated with them before? Or negotiated at all?¡± ¡°No?¡± Kate said, already dreaming of which glyph and ink she would go with. Maybe something for protection, in case she ever came against someone like Velvetcall again. But to spend an entire glyph on resisting esoteric effects? Kate was unsure it was worth it. ¡°No experience negotiating then,¡± Gregory said sarcastically. ¡°Lovely.¡± ¡°Pfft,¡± Kate said, jumping down the center of the stairwell, falling to the next floor down. ¡°How hard could it be?!¡± she called back up, before jumping down another flight. ¡°Famous last words,¡± Gregory said, rolling his eyes, still hurrying down the stairs like a normal person. ¡°Wait for me!¡± he said. ¡°You need my business acumen for¨C¡± Kate reached the bottom of the tower and hurried out, only realizing belatedly that Gregory had yet to come down. Ingestion 1.3.X.4 Kate scanned the pedestrians along the boulevard looking for potential fights, not that she expected to find anything good here. Men and women were traveling about their business crowding the sidewalk. Most wore plain clothes and went unarmed, carrying no weapons of note. This marked them as simple laborers and of little interest to Kate. They posed little to no threat, and unless they ambushed her, they would prove an uninteresting challenge. Rather than keeping an eye on them, she was scanning the wealthier pedestrians that walked at a leisurely stroll. They were set apart by their sloth and their high quality clothes, all in the latest fashions. At least Kate thought they might have been fashionable, but she was no expert, not on something so useless as that. No, what really drew her eye was the weapons that the wealthy wore. Many were ornamental and gaudy, though a few looked usable enough. She would not make the mistake of underestimating any of them, however unlikely an altercation remained. If one was wealthy, then one could be Marked. And any glyph could make combat unpredictable. And it was not just that they were possibly threats: there were interesting weapons as well. She saw more than one exotic piece, even a kusarigama. Though she did wonder if the owner knew how to use it. Kate had never fought someone wielding one before, and she made a note of it; she would have to find someone to duel later. But not right now. She had business to attend to. As they walked along the boulevard, following the Divide, they passed from the martial districts into the more commercial ones, where artisan trade goods were crafted and sold. Women were strutting along, either leading trains of children or perhaps attempting to catch the eye of possible suitors. There were tailors and their paid models, there were signs slathered along the walls, and plenty of litter as well, though cleaners strove to sweep up the worst of it. Knights from the High Guard traveled to and fro checkpoints. The Low Guard kept posts and watch-towers on the crossings over the divide. And the Baronsguard traveled from shop to shop, making the rounds and collecting taxes. And then there were those such as Kate and Gregory, who were traveling from Muster Square to the Caraveener¡¯s Market, about a two mile trek along the boulevard. The area was nominally safe from violent crimes, though pickpockets and scoundrels had been known to smuggle themselves over the divide, or to hole up in cramped and narrow spaces where no self-respecting guard traveled. Other than potential duels and fights (which normally Kate was the instigator of), it was the risk of pickpockets particularly that left Kate wary, with one hand on her most prized possession, her bastard sword, and another hand on her satchel. Though the best protection was constant vigilance, which was why, when she glanced at Gregory trailing behind her, she scoffed. His attention had wandered; he practically slept on his feet as he watched trade-traffic move along the sunken highway following the Divide. They were walking along the pedestrian boulevard that ran parallel to the sunken highway which divided Southbridge into halves, a western and eastern. The highway, which was the sole remit of the High Guard, ran from the Jungles of Kaiva, across the Chasm, through Southbridge, and then up to Bath and beyond. With the highway being the only way to reach Kaiva and beyond, it experienced a high volume of caravan traffic. With such high traffic, the highway was actually a low-way, and ran along an artificial canyon ten yards deep, with a boardwalk and promenade on the good side and shanties built up on the other. With the interesting and colorful trade traffic below, it was understandable that Gregory was distracted. Understandable, not excusable. Feeling somewhat charitable, Kate offered him correction. ¡°Guard your pockets,¡± Kate said. ¡°Hm?¡± he hummed the question, pulling his gaze away from the stream of meohr hauling long slabs of lumber north. Nearly all lumber had to be imported through Southbridge, and considering the size of the Middens Empire, there was a lot of wood coming through. ¡°Sorry,¡± he said. ¡°Wasn¡¯t paying attention.¡± ¡°How have you not been robbed blind already?¡± Kate asked, almost genuinely curious. ¡°Oh!¡± he chuckled. ¡°Well, I guess I have been robbed in the past, but I¨CI have something for that now.¡± It almost sounded like he was bragging. But that made no sense. Who would brag about almost getting robbed? It was like bragging about almost losing a fight. Deciding that she needed clarification, Kate asked, ¡°What do you have for a thief, other than your purse?¡± Gregory rolled his eyes. ¡° No. Well, that too. But not this. After the last time I lost some C, I made a little something in the shop.¡± ¡°Huh.¡± Kate knew that Gregory was at least middling competent at artificery, but he was still an apprentice for a reason. He had a long way to go before he could make anything useful. But his experiments usually were entertaining. Especially when they exploded in his face. ¡°A demonstration then?¡± he asked, sounding hopeful. Did he want to impress Kate? Probably. Would she let him try? ¡°Sure,¡± she said. ¡°We got another mile to go, so go ahead. Show me what you invented.¡± ¡°Phenomenal!¡± he said in that gratingly weak and high-pitched voice of his. ¡°Well?¡± Kate asked, arching an eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯m waiting.¡± He coughed, ¡°I need a pickpocket to try, first. Otherwise it won¡¯t work.¡± She cocked her head. It seemed foolish, but she had little enough understanding for most of what Gregory and his master got up to. A lot of math and engineering with fractions and very small tools, all of it anathema to Kate. She would much rather punch her problems, or better yet, stab them, with vigor, ad infinitum, amen. She smirked at the blasphemous thought. ¡°No offense, Kate?¡± Gregory started, hesitantly. Kate scoffed, ¡°Some taken.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a little scary sometimes,¡± Gregory said. ¡°And you¡¯re probably frightening the pickpockets off. Maybe fall back a bit?¡± She crossed her arms. ¡°Fine. But you better walk fast. I don¡¯t want to miss the guild¡¯s business hours.¡± She actually was unsure if they did have business hours or not, but it seemed like something that they might have. ¡°It¡¯s not going to make a difference if I keep traveling at the same speed,¡± Gregory explained. As if that made sense. ¡°Whatever,¡± Kate said, before adding, ¡°this better be worth it though.¡± While she might have complained, she soon lost any trace of that ire. She had received her third rune just that day afterall. She could now sense her vicinity with her eyes closed. Granted, the range of that perception was still limited, but it would increase with practice and use. Which might happen more quickly if she began wearing a blindfold everywhere she went. Sure, it would look strange. But results were always worth the price. It took a while, but eventually there was a potential thief. From the corner of her eye, she watched a grungy little deviant making its way through the crowd. It was a child, or a grossly mutated adult, or an elf, though those were rare and seldom seen outside factorums. In this case, whatever the thing was, it was strongly deviated. It had scaled skin in patches, their right hand had too many digits, and their left too few, and one of their eyes glowed while the other did not. Kate could almost commiserate with the thing, for it was not like there was any opportunity besides crime for it, except maybe in the quarries, or mines. On second thought, there were likely shafts it could fit through that normal miners could not. There was no excuse for its life-choices then. Regardless of its foulness, Kate watched it, waiting, and somewhat excited to see whatever Gregory had planned. Even if the only result was Gregory getting robbed, Kate would still get a laugh from it. And so, Kate continued her pace, watching the grungy little thing. It slipped past a matron, its hands tracing along the baggage of the matron¡¯s skirts and slipping into her satchel. The matron never even realized as her purse was removed and hidden in the thing¡¯s rags. The pickpocket had skill, Kate would give it that. But even if it was skilled, surely someone would have seen it¨Cit looked out of place. But the High Guard walked by without giving it a first glance. The Low Guard never stormed from their watch points. And the Barons Guard continued taxing shops as though a creep were not in the midst. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it The crowds could not be so thick as to prevent any from noticing the creature. Kate began to believe that the entire city was blind. Or maybe, they all just lacked her third rune that granted her a higher form of perception. Whatever it was, Kate continued to watch. The thing was making its way towards Gregory¡¯s fat looking satchel. Kate cracked open her eyes to better watch this ¡®demonstration.¡¯ She might have also bit her lip to restrain her more martial impulses to leap into battle. The thing was likely too small to pose much of a challenge anyways. The little deviant slipped a small scaled and taloned hand along Gregory¡¯s pants line, all the while Gregory continued on seemingly and likely actually oblivious to the pickpocket. The pickpocket matched Gregory¡¯s movements but just a step behind. Its hand slipped into Gregory¡¯s satchel. All without tugging or alerting Gregory to its movements whatsoever. Nobody else in the crowd noticed. Nobody, except Kate that was. The thing¡¯s hand reached further into a satchel. An audible click came from the satchel. The pickpocket froze. A ticking could be heard, like a watch, except increasing in frequency. The pickpocket began extracting its hand, working its way out more quickly than it should. ¡°Huh?¡± Gregory uttered, sounding perplexed, as though this entire thing was not his idea in the first place. Before the pickpocket extracted itself, there was a popping sound, and then a light, almost imperceptible pink flash. Kate smelled ozone. ¡°Aieee!¡± the pickpocket wailed. People glanced around, looking for the source of the commotion. Still, no eyes landed on the pickpocket. Something was definitely up with it¨Cmaybe a glyph of some sort. But how would it have gotten one? Maybe one of Skingineer¡¯s? The pickpocket leapt away and spun in mid-air, and hit the ground sprinting, ducking and weaving into the crowd, brushing aside legs and panicking pedestrians as an unknown thing brushed against their legs. Kate bit down on both lips, but her lungs began to convulse as she resisted the urge to chortle. To some success. ¡°Ah¨CAhh¨CAhhh!¡± Gregory yelped, patting down at his trousers by the satchel, where cloth had been blackened and singed. ¡°Kate, help!¡± he cried. Kate could no longer resist. She laughed and bent double, slapping her knee. It was just too much. First the pickpocket scaring random nobodies, then Gregory utterly failing¡­ Kate wiped an imaginary tear from her eye as she finally got hold of herself. She came to help her friend. ¡°Some demonstration,¡± Kate taunted. ¡°Your little pickpocket escaped,¡± Kate said. ¡°Nevermind that!¡± Gregory shouted, continuing to make a scene, though the crowds largely ignored him other than a few disapproving or disappointed glances. ¡°How bad?¡± he asked. ¡°How bad is what?¡± Kate asked, a smile still threatening to show her dimples. Smoke was wafting up off his satchel, the leather smoldered around the riven edges of a hole where something had burned its way out. The cloth of his pants had been distorted by heat, and a slight dampness leaked through the material, likely where the skin oozed. ¡°The burn!¡± he shrieked. Kate chortled again. The wound was hardly life threatening. ¡°Good news, bad news,¡± Kate said, drawing his misery out. She used her new perception to see within the satchel, where a strange device had expanded, appeared oven hot, and had burned several pieces of scraps and ends to cinders. The wound itself looked like a thumb sized blister where the device had ejected its heat, but the heat had been a graze as opposed to a penetration. What was most interesting was the device: Kate was fairly certain it was a type of artificer crossbow or bomb, which ought to be illegal. And here he was, just earlier that day, lecturing her on illegal blood sports. The hypocrisy. ¡°Lay it on me,¡± he grimaced. Oh, that¡¯s right, Kate remembered. She was teasing him, though it might be too much, too far, now that she really looked at his face. Real actual tears were forming in his eyes. ¡°Well, the good news is that you stopped the pickpocket from stealing anything.¡± As she was merciful, she left off that he utterly failed to capture the pickpocket or do more than frighten it. She also left off mentioning that his device was likely illegal. ¡°And the bad?¡± he winced. ¡°It looks like your toy wrecked everything in the satchel.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care about that!¡± Gregory shouted, ¡°The wound! Am I going to lose the leg?¡± Kate laughed at his joke. And she would have kept laughing, but by this point, his dramatics had attracted notice from the Low Guard. Kate waved them off, and fortunately they seemed to listen to her, so far, likely thinking Gregory and Kate were playing some childish game. But if the Low Guard did search him, then they might find his device, which would then get reported to her mother. No thank you, she thought. After smiling at the guards and waving them off, she had to recall what Gregory said, something about losing a leg. ¡°Of course not!¡± she chuckled. ¡°I hope you¡¯re joking, because there isn¡¯t even any blood. It¡¯s just a blister, you flower.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not a flower!¡± Gregory protested. He then lowered his voice and looked around. Even though he was still in pain, he whispered, ¡°It was a rad-betty.¡± ¡°A¡­ what?¡± she asked. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter,¡± he said. ¡°It causes tissue damage. Kills cells. Doesn¡¯t mean there will be blood. How deep is the wound though? I might need it excised.¡± ¡°Alright, I don¡¯t know what the gods you just said, but the wound really doesn¡¯t look that bad.¡± ¡°How big is the wound?¡± Gregory asked, looking up and away. ¡°Give it to me straight.¡± Kate rolled her eyes. If it really meant that much to him though, she supposed she could inspect it a little bit closer. ¡°You¡¯re being ridiculous,¡± she said, still bending down to get a better look. ¡°It¡¯s about the size of my thumb-nail.¡± ¡°Can you tell how deep?¡± he asked. She groaned, ¡°Fine. Hold on.¡± She jabbed her pinky in where the cloth of his pants were wet and cooked. Gregory screamed in a disappointingly shrill voice. Kate¡¯s pinky went in almost up to the first knuckle. ¡°No more than a half inch,¡± she said, standing back up and wiping her finger off on Gregory¡¯s shirt. At this point, even the Baronsguard were interested, and they almost never did anything. If this kept going, then Kate would have to have a chat with them, and that was always expensive. ¡°You¡¯re being irritating,¡± Kate told Gregory. ¡°If you keep acting like a child, then we¡¯re never going to get to the guild¡¯s office.¡± ¡°But! I need¨C¡± Gregory protested, at first too loudly, though after Kate elbowed him, he dropped in volume to a much more reasonable tone of voice. ¡°-a¨Ca bandage! Or a potion. At least a doctor?¡± he asked. ¡°-You¡¯re fine!¡± Kate groused. ¡°Just walk it off. You¡¯re acting like this is the first time one of your devices backfired.¡± ¡°It was godslicking radiation, Kate!¡± Gregory insisted. ¡°It never looks as bad as it is!¡± ¡°Then maybe you should have made a better device.¡± Kate gave him no sympathy, though the more he complained, the more Kate considered that perhaps she might not fully understand the nature of the wounds. ¡°-but!¡± Gregory started. Kate talked over him, showing mercy. ¡°-if you pick up the pace though, then we can swing by a physician after.¡± ¡°I need one right now!¡± he whined. ¡°No one is stopping you from going to one,¡± Kate said. ¡°You won¡¯t go with me?¡± he begged. ¡°Only after we do the guild,¡± she said matter of factly. ¡°But¡­¡± She raised her eyebrows. He squirmed and winced, but then sagged his shoulders and head. ¡°Fine. You promise we¡¯ll go after?¡± ¡°If we have time, and it still looks like you need it? Then maybe.¡± ¡°I guess that¡¯s the best I¡¯ll get,¡± he said, finally seeing reason. She gave him a firm nod, then set out for the mercantile quarter, towards the Caravaneer¡¯s Guild Hall, and she set a brisk pace at that. Gregory limped at first, but he eventually stopped, apparently walking off the wound, and proving Kate right about the entire thing. And it was only because she had been right in the first place, that as they passed several food stalls in the square outside the guild hall, that she allowed herself to be enticed by one stall in particular. Ordinarily, Kate ignored food stalls. Most of them sold sweets or pastries or fried things. But this one, the one that led her to it, smelled divine. As she began her detour, Gregory expressed concern. ¡°Wh¨CKate! That¡¯s not the¨Cwhere are you heading?¡± At first, Kate was not sure. She was following her nose, down the aisles of stalls and outdoor dining, past stores selling candied nuts and fruit. ¡°Kate?¡± he asked. ¡°Busy,¡± she grunted. She was nearing the source of the scent. ¡°Kate! I need a doctor,¡± he insisted. ¡°Really? You seem fine to me,¡± she rebuffed him. Her eyes finally landed on the divine scent. A narrow stall in a cramped out of the way space between marketplaces, recessed a slight amount to keep from view from the main arterial. ¡°I¡¯m in shock!¡± he protested, still following along, and by doing so, once again proving Kate right. The boy was so smart in some ways, but so dumb in others. If he was really wounded, then how could he be walking? But finally, Kate arrived at the counter made of rough hewn planks and saturated with stains and juice. The stall owner, an obese man in an apron and not much else grunted at her. ¡°What¡¯re ya havin?¡± ¡°Kate!¡± Gregory hissed from behind her. ¡°What¡¯re you doing! He sells¨C¡± ¡°Shush,¡± Kate waved the boy off with a hand, while focusing on the crude menu drawn on the wall behind the man. Out of all the choices, she felt drawn to a single, most delicious one. ¡°Cone of liver ¡®n berries,¡± she ordered. ¡°Kate!¡± Gregory hissed. He was ignored. ¡°It¡¯ll be twenty,¡± the man said. Forgetting the first protest, Gregory choked. ¡°Twenty C?!¡± Gregory protested, ¡°That¡¯s triple what I pay for lunch! And for this?¡± he finished in a squeak. ¡°Worth it,¡± Kate said. ¡°I¡¯ll take two.¡± She ruffled in her pouch and started pulling Chargers from her purse. She found ten pieces, still glowing ones at that, and dropped them on the counter. The man made the Chargers disappear then began filling two paper cones with ladles of red bits and bobs. Kate licked her lips and wiped a slight bit of drool from her lips. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re getting that,¡± Gregory said, disgusted. ¡°What sort of meat even is that?¡± ¡°Sure you wanna know?¡± Kate answered, mocking him. ¡°Lady¡¯s right,¡± the man grunted, handing over the two paper cones. The bottoms of them were already saturated with juice. ¡°Yer order.¡± ¡°Thanks!¡± Kate said, her smile breaking loose and flashing dimples at the man. His lips curled up, but just briefly. ¡°Yer welcome.¡± Kate turned and offered a cone to Gregory as she nibbled a chunk from the top of hers. ¡°No¨C¡± Gregory refused, face looking green. ¡°-basically cannibalism.¡± ¡°Nah, just meohr.¡± the man responded, even though Gregory had not been asking the merchant. Kate had already been walking away, back towards the square, nibbling on the meat. Gregory gagged, ¡°That¡¯s almost the same thing.¡± ¡°No it ain¡¯t,¡± the man scoffed. ¡°Now git.¡± Kate paid no mind, immersed in her meal, and focused on the destination before her. Across the square, beneath an overly large artistic rendition of a wagon wheel, was the southern administrative center of the Caravaneer¡¯s Guild. Ingestion 1.3.X.5 Kate led the charge towards the Caravaneer¡¯s Guild, dragging an increasingly pale faced Gregory in her wake. She tried her best to avoid distractions, but there was a lot going on in the square, more an open mall with all sorts of strange one-offs imported from far and wide. Exotics. There were even stalls selling weapons! They passed a table, a well guarded table, selling actual living stones. These rocks and gems glowed and warped space around them in rhythmic patterns, akin to a heartbeat. They could be used for high end alchemist, or sacred arts. Of course they had to be ground up first. But still, whole living stones! Another table sold rarer slabs of junglewood, ranging from ebony all the way to leaden wood. Some of the slabs could be carved into effective swords, though those tended to pair better with a different archetype of sacred art than Kate was going for, so she hardly paid that stall any attention. ¡°K-kate?¡± Gregory tried distracting her. Not going to work. For she had found the holy grail of the market. An arms dealer selling exotic weapons. An entire stall devoted to unusual artificer weapons. A kami that could slice through stone, a variable sword that warped and changed depending on which of the three wounds it was used for¨Cthe merchant was giving a demonstration of that one. A thrust that lengthened, a parry that shortened to slip past a guard. Effective half-sword techniques. Kate wanted it. She was practically drooling. But as she watched the display, Gregory tugged on her arm, irritating her by pulling her attention away from what mattered. ¡°I-if we¡¯re going to shop,¡± Gregory started, ¡°can we at least stop by an alchemist? A quick potion? This wound is really starting to hurt.¡± ¡°Huh.¡± Kate, now realizing she was never going to reach the Caraveener¡¯s Guild Hall to sign up on a caravan heading north, at least not at the rate she was currently traveling, felt another stroke of impatience. ¡°Kate?¡± Gregory asked, twisting around so that his wan face was directly in front and below Kate¡¯s. ¡°We don¡¯t have time for that,¡± Kate said. Reluctantly, she pulled away from the arms dealer. The merchant, seeing Kate leaving, shouted after them, ¡°won¡¯t be here much longer! Hurry back while we got the goods!¡± Kate felt pain at leaving it, but Gregory was right, they were running short on time, and really did need to get moving. ¡°Maybe later,¡± Kate called back over her shoulder, longing in her voice. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can keep up,¡± Gregory whined as Kate pulled them closer to their destination. But a crowd was forming between them and the entrance, a crowd in an almost plaza, where stalls had been built to encircle a space, routing everyone through the area. At the far end, butted up against heavy wagons with tall enclosures, a stage had been set up. A man on a narrow stage, almost a platform of stairs barely wide enough for three to stand upon, a man dressed in finery with a top hat, he was waving at the crowd, calling to them about something that was about to begin. ¡°What in the world¡­¡± Kate wondered. ¡°No,¡± Gregory groaned. ¡°I think I¡¯m dying.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be a baby,¡± Kate said. She had had worse injuries than that little hole in his thigh. It was barely an inch deep, if that. But still, he was hardly blessed with a hardy constitution. The man was repeating an advertisement of some sort, letting everyone know that a show was about to start. Kate only half heartedly pushed through the mob. There were all sorts of people, including parents with small children perched on their shoulders. If Kate knocked them down on her way through, her mom would find out about it for sure. That was the kind of thing people cared about. ¡°Come one and gather ¡®round folks!¡± the man called out. ¡°Gather ¡®round! You¡¯ll not want to miss these bargains! A once in a month event! Merchandise and wares, straight from the distant Mulands, straight from the depths of the Kaiva Jungle; exotic specimens never before purchased, virgin and hale constitutions! The opportunity to start fresh, and not muddle through someone else¡¯s poor training! A once in a lifetime chance to housebreak your very own! Step right up good sir, good ma¡¯am! Bring your children in close to see the wild and pure specimens, brought straight for your pleasure! No need to bid nor buy, though of course that is what we want! A chance to see something new, without leaving the fair confines of this glorious city! What say you, Southbridge? Step on up, gather around¨C¡± And on he went, rather repetitively. But it worked. Kate found herself drawn to the crowd, ensorcelled by the auctioneer¡¯s repetitive calls. ¡°Godslicking dungeaters,¡± Gregory swore. ¡°This is one of those auctions?¡± he spat. ¡°One of what?¡± Kate asked with half an ear. Thankfully, due to her size, she could see over most of the crowd, except for the little girl in front of her, but Kate merely had to step to the side to regain her view. ¡°Kunny auction,¡± he snarled. ¡°Huh.¡± Kate vaguely recalled something happening to Gregory¡¯s mother involving a revolt in the market district. It might not have been a full revolt, but just a pet off its leash. If it had been a full revolt, then Kate would have had definitely remembered. ¡°Don¡¯t huh me!¡± Gregory snapped. ¡°If you¡¯re going to stick around for this trash then I¡¯m leaving. I should have left to find a doctor already. Some friend you are.¡± ¡°But¡­¡± Kate paused, wondering if she did in fact need Gregory to help land work as a guard along with a compliment of knights. Considering that she might not have exactly known what she was doing, and she might have failed to pay attention when her aunt and mother were explaining the details of the deal¡­ yeah. She needed him. ¡°Starting us off! A round ear Kunny, from a tribe of mighty warriors! This is the opportunity of a lifetime folks! Buy your very own untamed and frightening prize-fighter! Think of it as an investment! Its winnings are sure to pay itself off! Starting off at three hundred C! Do we have¨C¡± A kunwayl was led onto stage. It was a male beastkin with feline features, but rounded ears. spotted fur covered it, a yellow base with gray spots. Scars marred its coat, stretching across its ribs and stomach, where three of its nipples were missing. The auctioneer tapped a cane against the kunwayl¡¯s pectorals, exclaiming the warrior¡¯s prowess. But if the kunwayl had been a good warrior, then how had it been captured? It growled at the auctioneer, showing its fighting spirit was at least intact. If not for the sealing collar around its neck, there could have been an incident. With the beast being collared, its growl might have been all bark and no bite. Kate kind of wanted to discover which it was. Preferably with a sword in hand and in the ring. ¡°And look at those claws!¡± The auctioneer pulled its paws up to face the crowd. At first, nothing happened, but the auctioneer jammed the pommel of his cane into the padding between the kunwayl¡¯s fingers, leading to the claws to spasm outward involuntarily. Several people oohed and awed, but Kate was not impressed. Sure, it had claws. So what. She had a sword. Big deal. Kate felt someone push her shoulder. She scowled and turned to confront whoever it was, but she saw Gregory heading away from her, pushing into the shallower parts of the crowd, in a direction that was definitely not towards the guild hall. ¡°Hey!¡± Kate called after him, hurrying to catch up. ¡°What gives?¡± ¡°I already told you!¡± he said. ¡°Wounded¨C¡± he pointed at his leg. ¡°I¡¯m going to get it fixed. We can do all this another day, when you actually feel like getting it done.¡± There were gasps and clapping from behind her, the kunwayl must have done something interesting, but Kate paid it no mind. She had just confirmed that she actually did need Gregory¡¯s expertise to get through whatever discussion was required to sign up on a caravan. He was not allowed to leave! And he wanted to leave because of that tiny little wound? She gave him a closer inspection. His face was pale, and some sweat beaded on his brow, despite the cooler climate. ¡°You know,¡± she said, speaking slowly. ¡°You don¡¯t look too good¡­ you should have said something earlier.¡± Gregory gave a small kitten growl of exasperation. ¡°I¡¯ve been saying that! Know what? I¡¯m done. Done!¡± He continued leaving. ¡°Hold!¡± Kate shouted at him, clamping a heavy palm down on his shoulder. ¡°Let me go,¡± Gregory hissed. ¡°Just let me think a second!¡± she said, ignoring his request as she weighed her options. She did have something that could help, but if she used it, she would have to fill out a requisition form from the garrison. But would filling out that form be faster than whatever time she would lose having to negotiate the contract on her own? She doubted it would be a straight comparison of time, but she had a feeling that the form was the cheaper of the options. ¡°Fine,¡± she said, reaching into a satchel and procuring a stoppered glass tube full of a honeyed solution. ¡°Here.¡± ¡°You had a health potion the entire time?!¡± Gregory said, looking somewhat scandalized and irritated at the same time. ¡°Yeah,¡± she grunted. ¡°And you owe me for it too! You gonna drink it or what.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll drink it,¡± he groused, breaking the seal with his thumb and popping off the top. He tossed it back and grimaced as he swallowed. ¡°Blegh. Why¡¯s it taste so bad?¡± Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. ¡°Might be old,¡± she said, shrugging. The garrison did tend to keep supplies well past their expiration. ¡°Will it work?¡± he asked, now looking a bit more concerned as he eyed the empty vial. ¡°You tell me,¡± she scoffed. Gregory seemed to wait a moment, feeling at his wound. ¡°Not completely better,¡± he said. ¡°But it took the edge off at least.¡± ¡°Good enough to keep going?¡± Kate asked. It had better be, that had been her only one. He wobbled his head on his skinny little neck before he finally gave a nod. ¡°Good,¡± she said. She gave him a careful once over. His face had some color to it now. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± She set out, leading the way. They had to backtrack a bit to avoid the crowds and plaza, though Kate did peak through at several points as they went around. A different beast was now on full display. This one might have been a female, but Kate never took the time to look, especially with how strongly Gregory felt towards them. The stress of thinking about another kunwayl might push him over the edge the wrong way. He was puny enough that it might. Minutes later, they reached the entrance to the Caravaneer¡¯s Guild Hall, or so they had thought. Having never been to the hall before, they were taken in by surprise as they stepped past the broad gates and into an extensively landscaped courtyard, filled with fragrant plants that had no business growing in the Middens. Kate halted as the strange smells and sights confronted her. Gregory stepped up beside her and froze as well once he saw the gardens with a maze of paths winding through them. ¡°Why a maze?¡± Kate wondered, thinking how impractical the whole affair was. Attackers could trample the greenery to get where they wanted, while everyone else had to take circuitous routes. And there were quite a few people traveling those paths, though they all seemed to know where they were going. ¡°Woah,¡± Gregory said. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of¨C¡± Whatever he was going to say was cut short by a gruff voice from behind. ¡°If you¡¯re gonna gawk, then do it to the side!¡± Kate glanced to see whoever it was that was brushing around and past Gregory, and she smartly stepped further off the path and towards a bench that had been conveniently set up at the start, beneath a tree with yellow leaves and red flowers. But she paid the tree less attention than she did to the speaker. It was a man that looked like he knew how to fight. That could get interesting. He must have been a soldier of some sort; he wore a dusty jerkin armor, a crossbow, and a sword and board. But he lacked a tabard, and he lacked the colors of allegiance. Kate realized, belatedly, that the man was likely a mercenary. Gregory was a bit slow on the uptake, having turned to look at the mercenary as opposed to moving aside like he ought to have done. As the mercenary went by, he swore. ¡°Godspissing kids! Don¡¯t just block the road!¡± Kate watched the mercenary as he continued on his business. ¡°Seemed friendly enough,¡± she said. Gregory laughed and shook it off. He instead went to inspect the tree that Kate had stepped under. ¡°It¡¯s all artificed,¡± he said, admiration thick in his voice. Which was strange, because when Kate looked, all she saw was brass tubing weaving through the ground. More interesting was the light pole nearby, the glow was bright yellow, almost white. Clearly some artists portrayal of the daystar. But who knew how accurate that was. ¡°How much did they spend on this?¡± Gregory asked, while continuing to bend low and inspect the tubing. ¡°Just to keep this running the cost would be insane,¡± Gregory said. Kate only paid half an ear to his babble and considered her next obstacle: figuring out where to go in order to sign up on a caravan heading north. It should have been obvious, considering the number of people passing through. Kate scanned the pathways. There were three of them, heading each to a separate wing of a building. The most promising one was where the probable-mercenary had gone, where other roughshod and travelworm adventurers had gone. That was to the right, on the opposite side of the highway. But that pathway did not appear welcoming and there was a stern man leaning against the wall while smoking a pungent cigarillo. Kate was by no means afraid, but the people coming and going from that wing had definite business and appeared recognized by that man, at least judging from the head-nods and acknowledgements. She was unsure which fork would even take her that way. Stupid mazes, she thought. She turned her attention to the other parth. Someone turned down the left path. He wore a long duster and a half-plate mask covering his right eye. At first, Kate thought the man might be a Halflight, but his clothes were largely practical, and he seemed a bit old considering the Halflights were mostly Kate¡¯s age. He was wearing a bandolier with small glass vials, and he had stained skin in places that it showed. An alchemist then. And likely one that had suffered a mishap, or that had a deviation, at least that would explain the mask. The man glanced at Gregory who was now on hands and knees and muttering about a ¡®control panel.¡¯ The alchemist scoffed. Kate¡¯s cheeks warmed, just a tad. Embarrassing. However, the alchemist¡¯s scorn lasted only a short while, for the last mercenary that had gone by had seen the alchemist while turning down a path that doublebacked. The mercenary scowled and marched through a shrub fence, leaving damaged twigs and bent plants in his wake. The mercenary got up to the alchemist and started shouting. ¡°Get your godspissing self on outta here!¡± the mercenary shouted at the alchemist. Kate watched the encounter with interest. Fights with alchemists were always unpredictable. Almost as bad as fights with artificers. It came down to their preparations. Kate hoped they fought. It had been too long since she had been in a three-way brawl. The alchemist responded in a snooty tone that made his upbringing obvious to all. ¡°It is hardly for you to decide if the guild does business with me,¡± the alchemist said, unaffected by the mercenary shouting and spraying him with spittle. ¡°I am a paying customer afterall.¡± ¡°Heh, that right?¡± the mercenary chuckled darkly. ¡°Well, none o¡¯ me ¡®r my mercs¡¯ll ever travel with you again! I let the whole guild know! Yer toxic!¡± ¡°Inconvenient,¡± the alchemist said, wiping his jacket and face clean of the chunks that had flow out of the mercenary¡¯s mouth. ¡°And an overreaction on your part. You have no proof that it was¨C¡± ¡°-don¡¯t need proof! It was yer godslovin cargo they wanted!¡± ¡°-again, no proof. Now, if you¡¯ll excuse me,¡± the alchemist said, trying to walk past the mercenary. But as the alchemist went by, he was shoulder checked and he stumbled. Glass vials jingled. ¡°Watch it you oaf!¡± the alchemist scolded, some heat finally entering his voice. ¡°Whaddya call me?¡± the mercenary said, even though oaf was likely the lightest of insults. It was more that the mercenary was looking for an excuse to fight. Kate recognized the attitude well enough. The alchemist continued scolding the mercenary, seemingly ignorant of the potential fight brewing. ¡°Your clumsiness could have unleashed a caustic vapor!¡± ¡°Huh?¡± the mercenary said, pausing, as it dawned on him just what it meant to unintentionally unleash some of the alchemist¡¯s creations. If the alchemist had not been bluffing, that is. ¡°Yes, you heard me,¡± the alchemist said. ¡°Be more careful. Cretin.¡± ¡°Hey now!¡± the mercenary said, drawing a short sword. ¡°I think I¡¯m owed an apology.¡± ¡°You wouldn¡¯t dare.¡± At that time, a High Guard knight had been passing along, coming from one of the side paths. It was a woman that Kate failed to recognize, but she seemed to be stationed on tariff duty, which was the equivalent of a border guard. However, even if the knight had a desk job, that did not mean that she could simply ignore a potential violent dispute. ¡°Whatever this is,¡± the knight barked, approaching more carefully by stepping over bushes and plants. ¡°Cut this out! Not the time, nor the place.¡± ¡°This is beyond your usual remit,¡± the alchemist pointed out. When the knight looked like they would protest, the alchemist hurried, ¡°not that I have a problem with your intrusion! Indeed, I am grateful for it. This lowly merc has accosted me.¡± ¡°What did you call me?!¡± The mercenary snarled. ¡°For the love of the Crown,¡± the knight groaned. ¡°I just got off shift and I need to deal with this?¡± If the knight worked there, then she would know where Kate needed to go. Kate decided to interject herself into the little spat as she came up from the side. ¡°Hey!¡± Kate said, pushing past the alchemist. ¡°Where do I go to sign on for a caravan north?¡± ¡°Excuse me?¡± the knight said hotly as she turned around. She must not have recognized Kate either. ¡°I thought you would know?¡± Kate added, unsure if the knight had just misheard, or if the knight was upset. ¡°And you thought it a better use of my time while I was in the midst of resolving a dispute?¡± the knight said. Oh, so it was that type of situation. If Kate failed to recognize the knight, then the knight might have failed to recognize her. So Kate pulled the sigil out from where it hung around her neck. The sigil almost matched her mother¡¯s exactly, and her mother¡¯s sigil went on all of the High Guards official paperwork, including pay documents. When the knight saw the sigil, the knight narrowed their eyes. ¡°And you are?¡± the knight asked. ¡°Sir Kate,¡± Kate answered. ¡°Captain Guardson¡¯s daughter, then?¡± ¡°Yeah. So where do I go?¡± Kate asked, now more certain that the knight would listen. The knight shook her head and groaned. ¡°Why me?¡± She seemed to ask nobody. The mercenary did seem apologetic towards the knight at least. The knight came to some internal decision, ¡°Still, first come first serve. Can you wait? I¡¯ll show you where to go after.¡± After that, the knight frowned at both the alchemist and the mercenary. ¡°Alright, I don¡¯t want to deal with this, I shouldn¡¯t have to, and if I do, then I¡¯m getting the Low Guard involved. That¡¯ll mean time before the magister for both of you. Now, do I need to separate you like children, or will you both go your own way?¡± The mercenary continued staring down the alchemist, almost daring the man. The alchemist broke first. ¡°Fine,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t have time for this confrontation, either. Some fools aren¡¯t worth the time.¡± he said as he left. The merc watched him leave, before spitting on the ground. ¡°Good riddance. Fool¡¯ll get more killed, mark my words.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t think you¡¯re above this mess either,¡± the knight said, though she sounded far less irritable now that the confrontation ended. ¡°You still need to leave too. Unless you actually want a trip before the magister.¡± ¡°Nah,¡± the mercenary said. ¡°Just hangin about to see if the girl needs help.¡± ¡°Gross!¡± the knight said, scowling. ¡°She¡¯s my captain¡¯s daughter, don¡¯t be disgusting.¡± ¡°Not that,¡± the mercenary growled. ¡°Ain¡¯t a monster. Wha¡¯dya take me for?¡± ¡°A merc,¡± the knight said drolly. ¡°Heh, true.¡± the mercenary chuckled. ¡°N¡¯ways, you looking to sign up on a caravan, you wanna follow the center path to the door with the sign ¡®at says reception. They¡¯ll steer ya right.¡± Kate narrowed her eyes in thought. ¡°He is right,¡± the knight said. ¡°Though this maze is more complicated than that.¡± ¡°But I gotta nother idea, yeah?¡± the mercenary said. ¡°But it depends on if the kid can use that there sword.¡± Kate scoffed. ¡°Of course I can. Unless you want a demonstration?¡± Kate grinned, hand on her hilt ready to draw. ¡°Woah!¡± the mercenary waved her down. ¡°Easy there. I¡¯m a married man.¡± ¡°Are you?¡± the knight asked, shocked. ¡°Eh¨C¡± the mercenary gave a hand waggle. ¡°What does that even mean?!¡± Gregory asked, having joined them at some point. ¡°Means kinda,¡± the mercenary explained. ¡°But¨C¡± ¡°Just get to it!¡± the knight snapped. ¡°I should be halfway to the tavern, not putting up with this meohr dung!¡± ¡°Well, if the kid can use the sword, then signing up with the Merc¡¯s Guild would be a better bet, since we got a standard contract with the Caravaneer¡¯s ¡®n all. Ya¡¯d even get paid for it.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what you wasted our time with? That¡¯s it?¡± the knight asked. ¡°Yep,¡± the mercenary grinned as he turned and left. ¡°Ugh. Mercs.¡± The knight swore. ¡°At least he¡¯s gone now.¡± She turned to Kate and Gregory. ¡°Now then, where did you need to go?¡± Ingestion 1.3.X.6 Gilded doors stood between Kate and her mission of securing travel arrangements with a caravan company. Wood, expensive wood by the looks of it, full of golden filigree except for a smudged panel meant for actually physically pushing the door. ¡°Mahogany¡­¡± Gregory said in a hushed voice, but Kate cared not. She firmly pushed the door inwards and stomped over the threshold, finding herself in a finely appointed room with carpets and an aquarium. She had meant to storm the gates and find the receptionist and force them to comply with her wishes, however, the realities of a well established business thwarted her intent before she ever began. The receptionist sat at an elevated desk so that she looked down upon whoever she was helping, and she was currently occupied. A frail old man was currently bothering the receptionist, and forcing Kate to do something so banal as waiting impatiently in line. ¡°Ugh,¡± Kate said, no growled, as she tapped her foot and began to wait in line. ¡°It¡¯s not that bad,¡± Gregory said, with a much haler face now that he had consumed her healing tonic. He went over to inspect the aquarium, that was lit and climate controlled through artifice. As with so much of this place. Kate¡¯s calloused hands and overly large and muscular frame left her feeling somewhat of a brute, but she would not trade her hard won and hard built body to fit in to such accommodations. Even if her feet sank into lush burgundy carpets. There were even potted plants beneath artificed lights! Not even Garrison Tower¡¯s high chambers contained such luxury. ¡°These are colorful!¡± Gregory admired the fish swimming in the aquarium. ¡°Think they¡¯re from the Liching Sea?¡± he asked. Kate scoffed. As if anyone would import anything from the Liching Sea. The only way there was by air, and even then, it was just a bad idea. All around. Even Kate would hesitate to confirm the rumors. ¡°Look at a map,¡± Kate said under her breath to express her doubt. Gregory must have heard. ¡°But look at them! Choral¡­ and the bright colors¨C¡± he pushed the back of his hand against the glass ¡°-and it¡¯s warm!¡± he exclaimed. ¡°It must be! I can¡¯t think of another warm body of water¡­¡± As he nattered on, one of the larger fish, one that was both narrow and wide, that was striped yellow and blue, drifted towards where Gregory¡¯s hand rested against the glass. ¡°...but if that¡¯s the case¡­ I heard they were largely carnivorous. I wonder¨C¡± he tapped an index finger against the glass. But rather than swim away, the fish darted forward and opened a sharply toothed maw which it slammed against the glass and made a dull ¡®ting.¡¯ Gregory jerked back. The glass held firm, but the fish almost seemed to scratch the material. And looking a little closer its face against the glass, the inside of the material had several faint scratch marks. ¡°Young man!¡± the receptionist looked up from where they were helping the old man. ¡°Please stop harassing the fish. If you¡¯ll look just above your head.¡± She gestured at a sign at the top of the tank prohibiting touching the glass. ¡°Oh.¡± Gregory let a weak chuckle. ¡°Sorry.¡± He stepped further away from the fish, and whispered to Kate, ¡°totally from the Liching Sea.¡± Kate had to agree that it seemed possible, but rather than admit that Gregory was right where she was wrong, she paid attention to the petitioner ahead of her in line. The receptionist, named Lonnie Tress according to the placard on her desk, was pointing out several contractual options available for the man. ¡°I don¡¯t really know which I need,¡± the man said. ¡°I just need to send my godson back to his mother in Kwin!¡± ¡°That¡¯s more detail that I need to know, really,¡± Lonnie said. ¡°You need to pick an option though.¡± ¡°Can you explain them again?¡± he said. With Kate¡¯s sixth sense, she perceived Lonnie clenching her knuckles out of sight behind her raised desk. ¡°Certainly,¡± Lonnie bit out. ¡°This option¨C¡± she pointed at a sheet of paper to the left ¡°-includes amenities at the middle of the caravan. ¡°-this one, does not.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a steep difference in price,¡± the old man said. ¡°Because one comes with more risk and less logistics,¡± Lonnie said. ¡°How risky is it?¡± ¡°To Kwin?¡± Lonnie asked. ¡°Past performance is of course not indicative of future trips, but it would be surprising if there wasn¡¯t at least one untoward event.¡± ¡°Like bandits or something?¡± ¡°Yes. So to help you decide, how important is it for your godson to arrive. How much do you love him.¡± ¡°Love might be a too-strong term. But his parents would kill me if something happened to their little apple. Better get the pricier option.¡± ¡°Good choice,¡± Lonnie said wryly. Kate let out a relieved breath when the man finally finished signing and handing over a down payment. Once he was gone, Kate lunged to the front, ready to strike down the last obstacle between her and a place on a caravan heading north. But when Kate reached the front, things failed to happen. Not immediately, and not after several seconds. And when things did finally happen, they had no bearing on Kate and nor were they in anyway useful. Lonnie was taking time to file the contract that the old man had signed. And the shuffling of papers was taking forever. It took so long, that another man came to stand in line behind her. This was getting ridiculous. Kate could take it no longer. She rapped her knuckle on the wooden desk. And if that did nothing, then she would take drastic actions. After she knocked on the desk, the receptionist responded. And it was none too soon. Lonnie sighed, disappointment and irritation both laced through her voice, but Kate had had worse, mostly from her own mother. Lonnie¡¯s tone did nothing to dissuade Kate. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re in the right place, child?¡± Lonnie asked, glancing up over her spectacles to look over Kate. Kate scoffed, ¡°I¡¯m not that young.¡± ¡°Mmm,¡± Lonnie answered, lips pressing together. As the inspection continued, Gregory stepped in. ¡°We¡¯re here to negotiate passage north to Bath,¡± he said plainly. We? Kate thought. She knew she needed to go north, but Gregory too? He must have been mistaken. ¡°Then you¡¯ll need your guardian to come in person,¡± Lonnie said. She began to call to the next person in line, but Kate was not having it. ¡°No, hey!¡± Kate said, slapping the palm of her hand against the desk. ¡°My mother sent me here, and I have some authority,¡± she pulled out her sigil from around her neck and she showed it to the receptionist. Kate thought that surely the receptionist could not be so much of a pillock to not know what the sigil meant. Instead, Lonnie scoffed. ¡°That means far less than you think,¡± she said. ¡°Next!¡± Kate struggled to believe it. After all this effort, and she was getting turned away? Her grip tightened on her sword hilt and she bore half an inch of steel. Gregory glanced down and winced, but then stepped to the side, blocking off the next customer, and stealing Lonnie¡¯s attention. ¡°We both know that isn¡¯t true,¡± Gregory said in a smooth, beseeching tone. Kate felt a moment of weakness and disgust that it was Gregory saving the day, and with such weakness on open display as well, but if it got her out of Southbridge and got her the next glyph, then she could defer to Gregory¡¯s expertise. At least for now. On this single thing. ¡°Crown save me from pretentious teenagers,¡± Lonnie groaned in misery as she stretched upwards and lamented towards the roof. ¡°You should know that we are here at the behest of our guardians,¡± Gregory said. ¡°Authorized as their agents. And the sooner you help us, the sooner we can go back to them and that you can get back to your other work.¡± ¡°This is irregular,¡± Lonnie finally said. ¡°Petitioners and stand-ins are usually in their majority.¡± Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. ¡°But is that a requirement?¡± Gregory asked, as though he already knew the answer. ¡°Yes, actually,¡± Lonnie said waspishly. ¡°It is!¡± ¡°Really?¡± Gregory asked, somewhat taken aback. ¡°Just help them so they get out of our hair,¡± the man standing behind them said. ¡°Unless you think you can have them forcefully removed.¡± Lonnie glanced over Gregory¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Them? The girl has the knight¡¯s sigil. Unless it¡¯s stolen, I doubt they would take her.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not stolen!¡± Kate said. ¡°The captain¡¯s my mom.¡± ¡°Oh. So just ordinary nepotism,¡± Lonnie said derisively. ¡°Thank the crown for that.¡± ¡°Technically not nepotism?¡± Gregory said, though sounding unsure. Kate might not have been sure either, but she was fairly certain it was not, as she was not given an actual position with the knights, at least not yet. She could have joined if she had wanted to, though. ¡°Whatever,¡± Lonnie said. ¡°Fine. What can I do for you two minors, who are not legally authorized to make binding contracts? What notary service can I provide?¡± Now that was just over the top, Kate thought. But so long as she was helping, Kate did not care. ¡°Thank you,¡± Kate said with a small amount of relief to finally be getting somewhere. The man behind them in line, who must have been listening to the entire exchange, chortled. He was laughing at them! Kate craned her neck to glare backwards at the man. This was all Lonnie¡¯s fault. She wondered if she could convince her aunt to shake the place down, maybe do an impromptu inspection on the office. Probably not. Janet Muleater might seem like she appreciated a good joke, but Kate¡¯s aunt had a notorious degree of seriousness when it came to the job. ¡°We wish to book travel north to Bath,¡± Gregory said, using that ¡®we¡¯ term again. ¡°Standard contract?¡± Lonnie asked. ¡°No¡­ not exactly,¡± Gregory said, grimacing and finishing weakly. When Lonnie inquired for more, he waved Kate to explain. It was apparently out of the boy¡¯s toolkit. Hardly a matter, Kate could do blunt. ¡°We want to sign on to guard a caravan north,¡± Kate explained. ¡°As guards. Not as passengers.¡± ¡°Wasting all our time!¡± Lonnie groaned. ¡°If you want to sign on as mercs, then do it through the Mercenary¡¯s Guild! There are proper channels for a reason.¡± ¡°Pfft,¡± Kate scoffed. ¡°What merc can come close to comparing to me?¡± ¡°Seasoned adults,¡± Lonnie pretended to weigh out in one hand. ¡°Kid,¡± she weighed out in the other. ¡°Hm, I wonder,¡± she finished sarcastically. Kate narrowed her eyes, but before Kate could snap something less than complimentary, Gregory hastily interjected. ¡°And the knights Lieutenant Muleater promised,¡± Gregory said. As if those knights were the selling point, and not Kate! Not a single swordmaster in Southbridge could defeat Kate in a fair spar! And he mentioned the knights like they were what would keep them safe. And Lonnie seemed to be more interested in them as well. Kate gritted her teeth. She would have to make them understand somehow. Her grip became so tight on her sword it became detrimental. She chided herself to loosen her shoulders and grip. If she had to draw, it would be fast and decisive and straight into a horned stance so that she could reach over the desk and free that irritating woman from her head. Just imagining the arterial spray helped clam Kate down, just a tad. Meanwhile, the conversation continued. ¡°Do you even understand what you¡¯re asking?¡± Lonnie asked angrily. Another insult to the tally. Kate should begin keeping a list. But that sounded like paperwork. Boring. ¡°Yes?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°What of it,¡± Kate demanded, with perhaps some menace leaking through. Gregory winced, and Lonnie almost flinched before narrowing her eyes. ¡°Then let me explain,¡± Lonnie said. ¡°We don¡¯t just have a standard contract for this, which means drafting up a new form! Which, of course, is outrageous. If you want to go north, just sign on as passengers and be done with it.¡± Kate growled and punched down on the desk, leaving a dent in the wood paneling. ¡°We¡¯re better than any merc,¡± she said. ¡°You should pay us to make it worth our while.¡± ¡°Or what?¡± Lonnie asked, arching an eyebrow. Gregory groaned, ¡°I¡¯m sure we can come to a compromise on the pay. We only need to cover the knights¡¯ salaries, and we don¡¯t need so many of them as we would the mercenaries.¡± ¡°Which means what to me?¡± Lonnie asked. Kate had been wondering that as well. It sounded like Gregory knew more about the detachment of knights than she did, and they were only coming because of her. But, if this was what it took. ¡°That using us and our detachment will be cheaper for you. Probably by about half, if my estimates pan out.¡± Lonnie gazed thoughtfully, and seemed to nod to herself as she ran the numbers. And finally, when she opened her mouth, Kate thought for sure Lonnie would agree. If it was cheaper, and the quality was better, then why say no, right? ¡°No,¡± Lonnie finally said, bursting Kate¡¯s swelling hope. ¡°What?¡± Kate blurted. ¡°What do you mean?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°Then let me explain,¡± Lonnie said. ¡°Mercenaries are a known entity, under a known contract, with inherited clauses that everyone agrees to, including caravan masters. Introducing a new element, at the whim of teenagers? No. If you want to go north, do it on your own, or sign on as a passenger. Now get out. I don¡¯t care if¨C¡± ¡°Ahem,¡± the man behind them cleared his throat. ¡°If I may interject before moods grow too much more heated?¡± Kate turned to look at the man suspiciously. His eyes briefly passed over Kate¡¯s sword, which may or may not have been partly unsheathed. ¡°What now?¡± Lonnie huffed. ¡°I believe,¡± the man said, ¡°that there may be an opportunity here.¡± ¡°No, as I just explained, there really isn¡¯t?¡± Lonnie said. Then thought better of it, ¡°And pardon my bluntness, but who are you, exactly?¡± ¡°Manny Stillson,¡± the man answered with a bow. ¡°Junior caravan master from the southern routes.¡± ¡°Oh¡­ ohhh,¡± Lonnie said. ¡°One of the refugees then?¡± ¡°We prefer the term ¡®geographically displaced,¡¯¡± the man, Manny Stillson said lightly. ¡°But yes, I am. And I really do believe that there is an opportunity here.¡± Lonnie deflated from exhaustion. ¡°Fine,¡± she said. ¡°Let¡¯s hear it then. Though I¡¯m tempted to tell the lot of you to do it elsewhere.¡± ¡°I will be quick,¡± Manny said. ¡°Out in a jiff, or so they say.¡± ¡°Nobody says that,¡± Kate said. Manny had the good grace to ignore the outburst and continue regardless. ¡°It is a fact,¡± Manny began, ¡°that I am beginning a new caravan train northwards, and with a fresh start, I am open to accepting a few irregularities, just as we¡¯re starting out and gaining capital, so to speak.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Kate asked. Gregory pursed his lips to ask, but Lonnie beat them to the punch as she rolled her eyes. ¡°Basically,¡± Lonnie explained, ¡°he wants to jump from junior to full-fledged caravan master, and he¡¯s cutting corners to make it happen.¡± ¡°In not so few words,¡± Manny smiled, though it never touched his eyes. ¡°But as I said, this is an opportunity for all involved.¡± ¡°A bad one,¡± Lonnie scoffed. ¡°If this is how you lot run business in Kaiva, then it¡¯s no wonder you¡¯re all running ragged.¡± ¡°Pardon?¡± Manny said, sounding shocked. ¡°What, may I be so bold to ask, makes you say that?¡± ¡°Why on the Crown would you choose to use kids to protect your caravan as opposed to tested, seasoned, mercenaries? Mercs aren¡¯t that expensive, and from working in the south, I think you should know the problem of skimping on security.¡± ¡°Half the cost by my calculations,¡± Gregory pointed out. ¡°Not nothing.¡± ¡°No, certainly not nothing,¡± Manny said, nodding his head. ¡°And besides, one of my clients has had a minor squabble with the mercenary guild; he is offering additional compensation to make up for this.¡± ¡°Oh. Oh him?¡± Lonnie asked. ¡°Yeah¡­ yeah this makes sense. Alright. You want the guild to act as the notary then?¡± ¡°Yes, if you wouldn¡¯t mind,¡± Manny said. ¡°Just a standard contract, please.¡± ¡°Any standouts?¡± Lonnie asked as she pulled three sheets of printed paper from a cabinet behind her. ¡°Insurance of goods?¡± Manny asked. ¡°Against whose collateral?¡± Lonnie asked, a pen in hand and ready to mark several changes into the documents. Manny turned towards Kate, when she stared blankly, to Gregory. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Gregory led off. ¡°No, no I don¡¯t think so. We¡¯re not putting up anything of that sort.¡± Kate nodded. That made sense. She was unsure exactly what collateral was, but it seemed like a bad thing. ¡°Hm,¡± Lonnie tapped the next section of the contract. ¡°Then salvage rights?¡± ¡°Ours,¡± Gregory said. ¡°Of course ours. We¡¯ll be the ones collecting it, so it¡¯s ours to keep.¡± ¡°No, not of course!¡± Manny frowned. ¡°You simply cannot have it both ways. Either you are employees or partners. If you¡¯re employees, then you are paid as such, and what is found is the caravan¡¯s as you were paid to find it. But if you¡¯re partners, then you need skin in the game, namely collateral against a successful trip.¡± ¡°But¨C¡± Manny started to protest, but Kate interrupted. ¡°-fine, whatever. Just give us the standard.¡± ¡°As employees?¡± Manny asked. ¡°No, as guards,¡± Kate said, irritable and eager to be done with the boring nonsense. ¡°Very well,¡± Manny said. ¡°But of course, as non-standard guards, and as you are not professional mercenaries, as you¡¯re lacking years of expertise, the pay you shall receive shall be commensurate¡­¡± ¡°So many words,¡± Kate groaned. ¡°Just pay us what knights earn regularly, no lower¨C¡± ¡°-Kate!¡± Gregory hissed, worried for some reason. ¡°Let me handle the negotiations!¡± ¡°No. Just, match the pay, and we¡¯ll travel with you and keep you safe. Deal?¡± ¡°Kate¡­¡± Gregory started to protest, but kept his peace and just shook his head. ¡°Gregory, I¡¯ve just about had it with this. If I didn¡¯t think mom would send a regiment to track me down, I¡¯d start walking north today. I really don¡¯t need this godslicking dung.¡± Lonnie scoffed, ¡°would be dead or enslaved in days.¡± ¡°Hah!¡± Kate barked a mean laugh at Lonnie¡¯s joke. ¡°Say that to my face!¡± ¡°Kate!¡± Gregory shouted. ¡°Please, stop.¡± ¡°Then make it happen, Gregory,¡± Kate said hotly. ¡°Fine!¡± Gregory snapped. ¡°The contracts. Knightly pay, no insurance, no salvage. Deal?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°Deal,¡± Manny said smoothly. ¡°Though we will need to leave the actual compensation to be filled in later, once we have a firm number on a knight¡¯s salary¡­¡± ¡°Knights are paid about hundred C a week,¡± Kate answered plainly, proud of herself for remembering that much. Gregory groaned. Lonnie muttered, ¡°so low?¡± ¡°Deal!¡± Manny said gleefully. Lonnie finished filling in the three contracts and slid them over across the desk. ¡°Caravan Master Manny Stillson signs here,¡± Lonnie said, pointing at one line. ¡°I¡¯ll type and date, don¡¯t worry about that. And, the Guardson sigil here, please.¡± Lonnie pointed at a spot for Kate to stamp her sigil, and provided a pad of ink. Once they finished, Lonnie switched the documents around so that all three had both Manny¡¯s signature and Kate¡¯s sigil stamped upon it. Once they were done, Lonnie collected one form for herself and slid the other two over, one for Manny, and the last for Kate. ¡°And that¡¯s that!¡± Lonnie almost cheered. ¡°Now kids, make sure you show your guardians the contract. Because if they protest, then¡­ well¡­ actually, the risk is all Manny¡¯s from here on out.¡± Lonnie chuckled¨Cit was not a nice sound. ¡°Have faith,¡± Manny said with a tighter, slightly pained, smile. Ingestion 1.4.1 The canyon descended further and further, narrowing, and becoming littered with broken shale and sharp flint. Despite the daylight, the canyon was narrow and jagged and deep enough that little light was to be found. Even with my night-eye I found the terrain treacherous. Despite that, I continued fleeing for the better part of an hour, with the voices of the humans and their alarm receding into the distance. Though the distance was difficult to discern; the echoes and wind played tricks with the sound. I lasted thirty minutes before I first stumbled, tripping over uneven ground. I jostled my left side against the wall. I bit my lip and felt a slight whimper work itself up from my core. Leaning against the wall I paused, catching my breath, taking stock. My wounds¡­ while they did not bleed, they ached deeply, similar to bone tired, but a line of fire through and through. One through my left deltoid, and the other through my ribs. Luckily, the shots missed my vitals¨Celse my situation would be far more precarious. Not that it was not precarious as it was. While there, I listened. The breeze ruffled my ears. Rocks clattered in the distance. Perhaps from the wind, an unsteady landscape, or perhaps the slavers in pursuit. I pushed off the wall and continued on. The bottles clinked. Tempting, but no. That would be later. After I checked my wounds. After I found a refuge. And a refuge I sought. My side throbbed. Every step, another flash of fire, each flash growing in intensity, following along each and every fiber passing near the wound. Just what had those weapons done? No projectile could do this. But magic was strange. From Traceless Tracks, I thought I would be safe, lest the humans stumble upon me. But if magic allowed me to be untrackable, then perhaps magic existed to reverse the effect, to draw them to me, as a hunter pursuing wounded prey, following a trail of heart-blood. I imagined a woodsman hunting their game, tracking, pursuing all for a trophy. What would that be in this case, my scalp? Or would it be a pelt. I shuddered at the thought, but the motion sent pain spasming up my side. Motherswear it! I gritted my teeth and mostly repressed the high pitched whine escaping me. Rocks clattered again. I thought I heard a bark, maybe a swear, it was difficult to tell how far, but the fact I could hear them at all meant they were too close. I muscled on, ignoring the pain radiating with every step. I tripped again and collided with rock. Body: 43 (+1) I growled and scratched at the flint, cutting away jags of the stone. No, I could not leave a trail. I rebuked myself. No noises, no trails, nothing to lead the hunters to me. Several steps further, traveling in a clear line that followed the lee of the crevasse beneath an overhang, step after step. No trail. How sure was I that they could follow me? I had lost the ooze monster, and that creature seemed better suited to following a trail than a human. But I could not discount the fear that there may exist a supernatural mechanism to pierce Traceless Tracks. However, that may verge upon paranoia on my part. An inkling of a memory began teasing the back of my mind. It was not the time for recollections, but it was of note as I had yet to truly recall anything from before. But, not the proper time. I pushed the memory back down. I needed to focus on the land I was traversing. Even if the hunters had no way to track, it would not be overly difficult for them to climb down into the crevasses and canyons and flush through them. They could stumble upon me by more chance than skill. I needed to keep moving! Another step. A rock tripped me. My own negligence¡­ I needed to rest. Needed so many things. I had yet to go through my gains from the heist. The bottled spirits enticed me far more than they should have. But I needed to keep going! Except, did I? I did not hear the humans right then. Many irregularities and wrinkles in the terrain meant a plethora of hiding spots to choose from. Traceless Tracks would likely be sufficient to lose their trail. Perhaps I could rest. Find a hole, briefly shut my eyes. Just for a moment. Just long enough to collect my strength before pushing onward. If I shut my eyes, would I awaken surrounded by enemies? Would I awaken at all. These thoughts and more harangued me. Already I was near the wall of the crevasse, in the lee of the wall. I leaned against the stone. I rested my eyes, for just a second. And there, while in the shadows, the bubbling memory surfaced¡­ The memory started vaguely, emotions rather than substance; I would rather have gone without. Feel and horror, being pursued, I remembered that much. A horrid nightmare chasing me, a violation of trust, a threat of silence and pain and going back to¡­ I shuddered, struggling to pull out from the memory. But I was too weak, too tired, and perhaps, just a bit too curious. I had enough awareness to break the surface of the waking dream, enough so to idly muse. Tiredly, I had a rational thought: memories were loathsome things. When I cannot recall them, I want them. When I cannot entertain them, they strip me, flog me, and beat me down. Soon, the fatigue drew me back under. The memory came. I had been running. Fleeing. A horror pursued, though I had not caught sight of it. I just knew it. It had done something, something to a pretty friend. It had been doing something to all my pretty friends. A predator, one that left me so frightened I had bolted and had grabbed a possible chance of freedom¨Cthough it had led me into the woods. A forest of unfamiliar hills and textured terrain, fir trees thick enough leave no room for brambles, only dead branches at my height. They grabbed at me. Loomed at me. Terrified me. But they were better than the alternative. I swallowed my fear and continued onward, inward, away from the hunter. I was wounded. Many scratches and scrapes. My cheek bled. My knee bloodied. My hair a mess. Tears and grime stained my cheeks. I had survived that first day by luck and the fact that death by thirst takes longer than twenty four hours, at least in a temperate clime. But thirst I had aplenty. As well as hunger. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Evening began and shadows fell; the forest grew increasingly dark, until only flickers of moonlight shown through the slivers of canopy. I could no longer see. I stumbled in the dark, roots or rocks, I was unsure. Darkness forced me to slow my pace. I wandered with my arms outstretched, unsure which direction I was headed, though hoping I was not wandering in circles. With my hands before me, I noticed just how small they were. Still pudged with baby fat. The trunks of the fir seemed mighty all around me, but this was no old growth forest. Could not have been. How small had I been? What age? It must have been young. Soon, without my frenetic pace, I cooled off. My clothes, a frilly dress, damp with sweat, chilled me. So cold! I had no blanket; my escape ill-planned, if planned at all. I could not recall. Desperate for heat, I scooped mounds of fir leaves, moldy dirty needle like leaves, on top of me. I burrowed in to find any warmth I could find. My teeth clattered. But no longer did I feel like the matchstick girl. Why did I remember the matchstick girl? A bitter part of me, a small part of me, felt jealousy: at least in the story, the matchstick girl had died warm and happy, even if an illusion. Howls and yips danced among the trees. Not wolf howls, these lasted longer, warbled more, and came at a higher pitch. The coyote¡¯s were singing. My fear redoubled. My body was small and weak. I had bled. Surely they could follow the scent of my blood and set upon me. Hours passed. The coyotes sang from nearby. I felt I could almost reach out and touch them. I thought I saw yellow eyes flicker by. Impossible¨Cmy eyes had been shut tight. My imagination then. It had to have been. A squeal, a shriek, then rending of flesh and snapping of jaws. I waited. And waited. All that night, I waited, expecting to feel teeth tearing through my skin, through the nape of my neck, at any moment. But nothing came. Dawn peaked over the hilltops. The morning crisp and cool. But I could see. I could no longer stay. I needed to escape the forest, find a road, civilization, help. So long as it was far from the horror that chased me here in the first place. I vaguely remembered the horror, a face¨Cno! I blotted it out, too terrible to even envision. In my waking body, somewhere distant, I felt the fur raise on the back of my neck. Even there, in the real world, I knew some monsters were better left forgotten. I got to moving. Traveling. Downward. Following after the sun, chasing the morning. I never warmed up, but I did grow warmer. My dress was a mess. Torn. Stained. My knees had bled through my white stockings. I was missing a Sunday shoe. This was bad. Very bad. Good girls are clean girls. My body flinches and recoils. No, best not to think of it. Safety first. Close to midday, I stumbled out onto a paved road. This meant civilization. But also danger. The horror would be searching for me, likely watching the road. Not many lived this way, but some. All it took was one stranger. One heading into town. From there, the sheriff office. The monster always warned against the sheriff; they must have been safe. So far as plans went, I felt it was a good one. I could not help but smile, just a fraction. Excitement. Soon I would be free. If ever I could be. A car was coming. They traveled the right direction. I did not recognize the vehicle. I could not remember if the monster had others. Maybe. Maybe not. I waved them down. They slowed to a stop. Of course they did. I was a pretty girl. I was a good girl. They always stopped. It was a nice man. Older, a bit rough, smelling sour. But nice all the same. He spoke. I could recall the intent, but not the words. He worried I was attacked and lost. He asked where my parents were. I cried; this was not difficult. ¡°P-police,¡± I stuttered, in a pathetic voice, almost a mewl. This also, was not difficult. I requested a ride. Of course the man acquiesced. He was not the monster. He might have been a monster though. It hardly mattered. We were traveling in the right direction. He kept glancing at me, frowning, as we drove. He asked questions. I made faces and refused to answer. He turned on the radio, and though staticy, there was music. Not very good music. That I kept to myself. We were halfway to town; the roads curvy, over and down hills, passing through old mudslides, some farms, many trees. Eight miles to go. When I looked away from the man, I could not help but smile. Almost. Almost free! What would I even do with it? Maybe school? My pre¨Cmy friends¨Chad mentioned it. It sounded fun. Maybe I would try? Seven miles to go. A car on the side of the road. The hood open. Dread coursed down my spine. I shivered, trembled. ¡°N-no!¡± I said. I already knew though. I knew that car. A woman was flagging us down. How did she know? She must have spied upon traffic. We were on one of the few straight-aways. I begged the man to keep driving. I pled. His face twisted in a mix of confusion and something else. The woman was not ugly. She made her assets work. She looked pitiful. The man said it would only take a second. That a gentleman never let a damsel go unassisted. The man was a fool. No longer could I contain myself, I told him that, that he was a fool. He parked behind the woman and got out. The woman¡¯s eyes met my own. Those cold horrific eyes. Then she pointed at her engine. Of course, of course the man went to look, bending over the engine block. I needed to run. I scrambled out from the seat belt. I pushed open the door. I could still outrun her! I could get back to the forest, I could¨C The man collapsed, the woman tossed something aside, glass¨Ca syringe¨CI had seen her use similar before, when we brought friends home. He might wake up, he might not. I could not wait to find out. I ran down the shoulder, down the embankment, towards the safety of the¨C Her long legs, so much longer than mine, they ate the distance between us, too quickly. Her spindly fingers on my shoulders. My momentum arrested. I kicked and screamed. Good girls never run. Mind: 53 (+1) ¡­that memory, that torment, I wished had remained forgotten. I recalled where I was, in the crevasse. My body felt different now; I could see in the dark; I could do magic; I had survived in the wilderness for days. Resting had been a terrible idea. I needed to run. Needed distance between me and that awful dream. I began moving further down into the canyon. But I could not keep my head clear! I stumbled, on roots¨Cno!¨Con rock. There were no trees here. Even now that horrid dream found ways to torment me. I fell, this time catching myself with my right arm, my good arm. The impact still jolted through me, through my wounds. Agony. I was trembling. I was in no state to go on. I could not. Had I found shelter in that dream, then perhaps I would have found a different fate. Shelter. I made my decision: I would find shelter. I scanned further downhill. The terrain, irregular. Many places from which to choose. A shelf of rock with a crack between it and the floor. The shadows were deep enough, even during daylight, that my eyes could not penetrate that space. It would have to do. It would work. Yes. Shelter. One step, one agony. Two steps. Three. Each movement hurt, but I refused to succumb. Nine steps. I stumbled again, this time catching myself on the ground with my left side. Sharp rocks. My nerves screamed. I screamed! Though it sounded like a yelp. I hated myself for it. But I hated the pain more. I wormed the rest of the way into the interstitial space between rocks. My wounds¨CI should tend to them. But I felt so weak. My eyes still so heavy. My throat parched. Every time my heartbeat, pain throbbed. I wanted to sleep. But if I did, would I remember? I did not want to. The fate I found was the least of my torments¨Cthe guilt was worse, always the worst. The glass bottles of spirits had clinked. Just one sip. I could manage that much. With one hand, I worked a bottle loose, I worked the cap off, I took a healthy swig and nearly spat it out. Fire. Lightning. Down my throat. Or my lungs. I coughed. Some sprayed. The cuts on my lips, on my muzzle, they stung. I took another swig. Spirit: 43 (+1) Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.4.2 Closed (7/9) +2 Body: 46 (+3) In hindsight, drinking fortified spirits until I passed out was a suboptimal mechanism for coping. My head throbbed from dehydration, my tongue tasted awful and slimy, and I had slept poorly with sharp rocks beneath me. Everything was sore. My wounds appeared inflamed. And as if to confirm that the decision had been a poor one, both of my arms ached and the skin felt like rubber stretched thinly over lava. Melted, thin, and runny. I had made gains the night before, but I would not repeat it. A bottle, what in common vernacular could be called a fifth, entirely consumed. My pants were dry. I felt no urge to urinate. Odd, how that occurred to me. This body was a strange one. Magical, even. I still hated it. It took far too long for me to collect myself, to wake up, as it were. And only then, when I was certain that I could move, I listened. I heard the wind. I smelled acrid smoke similar to overly crowded and smogged up industry, but nothing else. I appeared safe for the moment. Then there was time to inspect my wounds. But first, I sat down, leaned against the wall, still under the shelf, and I took a drink from my flagon. The water had some spice to it, a remnant from the flagon¡¯s previous contents, not an unwholesome flavor. Something was digging into my left side. Belatedly, I realized it was my satchel. A poor pillow, and I had gotten tangled in its strap. That, and my jacket, made extracting my wounded left side difficult. Moving my left was still agony, magic had not fixed the problem. My stomach churned in fear at the thought of looking. How bad would it be? Nobody else was here to help, it was all on me. A part of me wished Nick had survived, just to have someone familiar watching my back. I realized I was stalling. Carefully, very carefully, I slipped my arm out through the straps. Small whimpers escaped my throat and my eyes leaked. Minutes passed. My ears flat, my tail limp, my whimpers growing in volume. Skin pulled away where I had been shot. Skin stuck to the insides of my leather jacket, fused with the material. Like ripping off a bandaid. I could do this. I had been through worse. I yanked my arm from the sleeve. ¡°Motherswear it!¡± I screamed in pain before I slammed my jaws shut with a click. I should have bit down on something. I was lucky to still have my tongue. That had hurt. A lot. Body: 47 (+1) I leaned back against the wall and sat back, panting. Maybe a little break. I could worry about everything else later. I drifted off and welcomed the distance from the pain¡­ Another dream. This was not real. I chanted it, over and over. But the emotions came too strong too quick. I was overwhelmed by dread and terror. How old was I? It must have been young. A child. These were the thoughts of a child. Because I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the horror lurked beyond the door. Were I to pound on the door, there would be pain. Were I to open the door, pain. It was dark. Cramped. Too hot. A putrid incense burned my nose and left my eyes watering. ¡°Good girls make pretty little friends,¡± a voice spoke from the otherside, from the horror. ¡°And only good girls can come out and play.¡± ¡­I shuddered awake. Those dreams, already elusive, already fleeting, could not be forgotten quickly enough. Sweat slicked my skin and left my fur feeling gross. A sip from the flagon, but just water. I needed something stronger. So long as I practiced moderation¡­ it should be safe. I found the second bottle, my last bottle. I uncapped and took a swig, fire burning itself down my throat and out my nose. I felt lightheaded, a strong improvement. Good. I re-capped the bottle and stowed it. I had a feeling I would need more later, to chase these nightmares away. Besides, I needed to check my wounds. I could not afford to be drunk. But I had drank enough that the spirits fortified my resolve. Without further delay, I checked my wounds; I lifted my tank-top, ignored the parts of my stomach where too-many¨Cno! Focusing solely on my ribs, there was a pale strip of puffy flesh that oozed where I had been grazed. None of the flesh was missing, at least not from the shot. But the discoloration, the pain, and the smell¨Cnot good. The flesh might have even been dead. Or cursed. Checking my deltoid, where I had been shot through and through, it was similar. There was probably a line of dead flesh running from entrance to exit. I had no clue how to treat this. I worried rot or poison would set in. There were too many unknowns. I needed help. I needed people, and preferably not the bandits. Unless I had looted a magical healing solution. I doubted it, but it was worth checking. And I needed to go through the haul anyways. Besides, I had a map, and with luck, I could find civilization nearby. I began emptying the sack. Probably the most precious find had been the map. I set the rolled and folded paper aside to come back later to, and kept going. I had a few tubers from the bandits¡¯ pantry, but I expected that they had to be cooked to be edible. Especially after I sniffed one. Despite reservations, I gave on a nibble, just the slightest bite. They tasted like stale boots. I set the tubers aside for when hunger drove me to desperate measures. Next up was a series of objects: multiple purses, of various makes, sizes, and materials. The nicest one had come from the Red Queen¡¯s office, and was crafted from a pale leather with an embroidered saber. The pouch on its own looked valuable, and I decided to keep that one based on those merits. The rest of them, I emptied out on the ground before me. There were many coins, metal disks with the center filled in with gem-like glass. They almost seemed like stained glass windows, except the material was all the same color. Though, some of the coins emitted a faint light from their gem-like centers. The moment I poured them out, a multi-hued glow filled the dark crevasse, although the glow must have been fainter than it seemed. Still, I could not risk exposure, not at this time. I collected all the coins that glowed and filled my newest and best pouch with them. With them put away, I picked up a few of the dim coins, the ones that did not glow at all. These were not the first time I had seen the coins of the land, what I assumed passed for currency. I had found them in the hundeors¡¯ den, and I had seen them when the bandits¡¯ shot me. The rifle had been slotted with a glowing coin, and had a dull coin ejected. All of my observations hit me all at once. It made sense. They were called Chargers. That had been what the bandits had been discussing. Their currency had an immediate practical use. Could they be recharged? They must, otherwise the metal settings would be a waste, unless it was necessary for exchanging the energy. Could I draw the energy out, I wondered. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. I held the coin in hand, I focused on it, tried to feel anything other. But other than the glow, I could perceive no difference between a full and empty Charger. But of course I would not just develop a supernatural sense. I might have greater eyesight, hearing, and olfaction, but I lack any new category of sense. Except for my Illusions. For the sake of thoroughness, I envisioned a Charger (easily with one directly before me), and I cast an Illusion. ¡°Illusion,¡± I whispered. Unsure of what I was expecting, the spell was a bit of a letdown. The illusory Charger just sat there. It had no feeling to it, no weight. But I knew that was incomplete, that my Illusions could do more than that. They should, at least. Inspecting the markings on my right forearm, I examined the glyph representing Illusions. There was a fresh glyph branching off the first. The glyph read: Touch. I ought to be able to make the Illusion tangible at least. I poked the Illusory Charger again. My finger passed straight through it. Letting the Illusion drop, I thought about it. The first Glyph, the major one, was for Illusions, and I had to whisper, or at the very least mouth the word to activate the spell. Would the same apply to the sub-glyph Touch? Focusing on the Charger once more, envisioning its weight, the chill of the metal, I whispered ¡°Touch.¡± Nothing. It failed to work. Several more times I attempted this. I grew frustrated. Was I misinterpreting something? Had my ability to cast Illusions broken? ¡°Illusion.¡± A Charger once more appeared, floating in the air before me. It then occurred to me. Touch was a sub-glyph to Illusion. The Illusion had to come first. Of course, in hindsight, it made sense. ¡°Touch,¡± I said, envisioning the weight and feel of the Charger. It dropped from the air and hit the ground with a dull thud. That¨Cthat had potential. Mesmerized, I poked and prodded the coin, watching it slide along the ground. If I had not cast it, I would not have realized that it was a¨C It popped, and a wave of fatigue washed over me. Spirit: 44 (+1) Mind: 54 (+1) Illusion: Touch: 2/9 (+1) That was too early! There should have been at least twenty seconds left on the Illusion. I needed to understand why. A minute later, when my pool of spiritual energy had fully recharged, I created another Illusory Charger. ¡°Illusion.¡± Immediately after, I added, Touch.¡± The coin behaved as before, exactly similar to the original Charger. I counted the seconds. The Illusion lasted around twenty seconds. About half of what I should have gotten. Adding tangibility halves the duration, meaning that my pool of energy exhausts twice as quickly. Fascinating. I wondered what other limits there were. It had easily become the most potent tool in my kit, and thieves relied upon knowing every inch of their kit. But I had gotten derailed. Of the original charger, I could discern no difference between full and empty coins, other than the glow. Even with an Illusion, I found no difference. And without detecting the ¡®energy¡¯ surrounding the full Charger, I lacked a mechanism to extract it. If the energy is actually there in the first place. I continued playing with my Illusions as I resumed going through every other item in my haul. I had spent a significant time on the Chargers, and there was still plenty more to get through. And then I remembered, from the hundeors¡¯ den, I still had a gun like device. The bandits slotted Chargers into their own guns. I remembered a slot on the gun-like device that I had requisitioned. I needed to try this. I went digging through the contents, brushing past the obsidian egg, also from the hundeor. Distracted once more, I prodded the egg. It had glyphs decorating the side of it, in silver. It did not seem to be active or alive. It certainly was not trembling and about to hatch. But still, there was just so much I did not know. Back to my hunch, I finally dug up the gun-like-device, much the same as I remembered it. It was a mixture of bronze and dark wood, with dark metallic circuits engraved in the bronze. There was a trigger, and at the top of the gun, near where the hammer would have been, there was a slot about the same width as a Charger. I picked up one of the spent Chargers and set it in, it fit perfectly, and slid most of the way in, with only a portion of the metal lip visible. A switch had toggled up when I pushed the coin in, and experimenting with the switch, I found it was a fast eject for the Charger. I wanted to try it out. No, I needed to try it out. I pulled out a full Charger, and I had been just about to slot it in, when my brain caught up with my body. I had no idea what this device would do. I thought it would be safe, but I could not guarantee that. My hubris had already gotten me injured; I could not risk another mistake. Besides, even if the gun worked like I thought, it would still make noise, or a flash, or something noticeable. I could not afford to be noticed, not while I could still potentially have hunters chasing me. Thus, with a heavy heart, I put the Chargers and the perhaps-a-gun away, and I went back to the rest of the haul. Thinking of weapons, I had come away with two daggers from the bandit¡¯s encampment. I did not recognize the metal, but they both held a better edge than my utility knife. They had sheathes, but came with no belt. I slipped both daggers around my right thigh, on the same harness as my utility knife. They dangled and clinked and fit poorly; I worried they would hinder my movements. I ended up removing the daggers and putting them back into the keep pile. Next, and this one I had been looking forward to since I had found it, I examined the magazine. It was thin, and the pages had been varnished for protection. The covers were plain and brown, with some of that same strange script written across the front. I ignored the script, trying hard not to look at it too closely. My head hurt enough as it was. I opened up to the first page. It was an illustration of a woman in a tasteful dress with an umbrella over her back. The umbrella was laced and colored black with red highlights. The dress came up to her neck, and went down to her calves, where she wore slippers. The dress had plenty of volume, but cinched at the waist, more so than I would have expected. It dawned on me: she wore a corset. ¡°Incredible,¡± I breathed. The woman was posing against a carriage, with strangely colored trees in the background. The entire illustration was painted and embossed, and the level of detail was exquisite. Even her makeup was on point, with ruby red lips to match the umbrella. I began flipping through the magazine, holding each thick page carefully with my fingertips. I had to handle the pages cautiously with my claws and fingernails. I did not want to tear such a treasure. The magazine showed trees, vegetation other than lichen. Which meant it had to exist somewhere. This world was not completely covered in wastelands. And there was a society! Civilization¡­ I had my suspicions from the bandits, but the magazine confirmed it. Somewhere out there, was civilization and a lush paradise. Despite my wounds, I felt the beginnings of a twinge of hope. I continued leafing through the magazine. The pages were full of women in tasteful dresses posing in forests or clean cities, dining at cafes or in one case watching some sort of performance. There was even a woman in a veneer ballgown who was wearing a mask. That last one had probably been the most scandalous, which might have explained the mask wearing. But maybe not. There was much I had yet to learn. I spent a long time looking through the magazine. It was a treasure. After I had my fill, I carefully put it away, and pulled out the only other item I had yet to investigate: a leather bound journal and a letter. I had set these aside until last, since I knew they would leave me with a pounding migraine. But I needed to be fully literate, and any clues would help me going forward. The letter first: It was a piece of yellowed paper folded in three. The paper felt thick, and the writing on one side of it was meticulous. As I read through, or tried to, my eyes kept glancing off the individual sigils. Some of them I recognized, and from those I inferred more. I remembered how their language sounded, and I tried to guess which phonetic went where. It was a mess. My headache returned. A pressure continued to build up, between my ears, behind my eyes, the back of my head. I had done this before, I could do it again. The pain was lessened by the fact that I already knew the language, or so I hoped. It seemed to match up. Mostly. This should have been impossible! I lacked a rosetta stone. But still, it was working. My left arm burned and ached, and I forced myself to continue. Mind: 56 (+2) Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.4.3 I groaned and stretched, wincing from the heat coming off my ribs. And then there was the headache which impaired me as much as my wounds¨Calmost. But I had succeeded; I could now read in whatever the language was called. Which meant I could competently read the map. Which meant civilization. However, my eyes felt swollen and my head throbbed. I reached up to rub my face, a force of habit more than anything. My claws caught on my muzzle by mistake. A sharp pain as my claws scratched the tip of my nose; I recoiled in shock and struck the back of my head against the stone. A growl escaped my throat. Good girls never swear. But it came close. Motherswear it, but that had hurt! I thought. My nose felt damp; I smelled blood¡­ my blood. Mixed in with the stink coming off my wounds. And of course, my left arm decided then and there to update. The tingling burn radiated up through my shoulder, hitting the line where I was shot through, bottlenecking like a river against a log jam, and then bursting through. This time, when I growled, it was intentional. My wounds were still there of course. Otherwise they would have already healed. Body: 48 (+1) After a moment¡¯s pause to calm myself, I took stock of my current situation. Night had fallen while I had read by Charger light. Everything appeared in monochrome, with little more than broad outlines visible, even to my keen eyes. It appeared that waiting for my hunters to leave had been the correct call. I let out a breath and relaxed against the stone. Now I could travel at my own pace. I had supplies. I was finally on my way to safety¨Cto civilization. I took time to relax, just sitting, recovering. Breathing deeply and calmly and just focusing on nothing. I sampled some more of the bottled spirits. I was still unsure what type the spirits were. Too sweet for whiskey, too spicy for brandy, and too smokey for rum. Far too much flavor to be vodka. But whatever it was, it quickly grew to be my favorite. When I reached civilization, I resolved to learn the brand, and where to procure it. Preferably from a rich baron¡¯s haunt. It was while I was sampling the spirits, swishing the flavor across my tongue, that I heard it. Or thought I did. My ears twitched. There it was again. I had definitely heard something. The wind was blowing through the crevasse, singing past rocks in symphony. But that had not changed from before. No, what I thought I heard was something else, something just slight, barely audible over the wind. Laughter. I heard laughter. But not quite. The laughing barks of the hyena-like humanoids. Hundeor. What were they doing here? I wondered. I wanted to curse my luck¨Cbut that would be counterproductive. My mind blazed and my thoughts ran. Why were they here? No, more importantly: how close were they? I could not smell them, at least not yet; but they could be downwind. Sounds tended to echo in the crevasse, but only if they start in the crevasse, else they dissipate quickly. There was a chance the hundeor were down here with me. And if that were true, then they were likely hunting me. But why? Why were they pursuing me? Because I had robbed them. But had they not exhausted themselves against the humans? I had thought that their vengeance had already been had. So why now were they pursuing me? How did they even know that I was here? The last I had seen any of them had been near the bandits¡¯ pantry when one of them had spotted my stolen sack. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. But how had they tracked me from there? Traceless Tracks meant that there were no trails, but they could have kept watch on the bandits, and they would have seen me enter the canyon system. There were not enough places to hide down here, the paths were too narrow, and there were too few splits. If they were flushing through the canyons, then likely, they would discover me soon. This refuge had been compromised. I needed to relocate. Mind: 57 (+1) I hastily packed everything back up. It took longer than I wished; my left arm hung limply; the slightest jostling on my left side caused sweat and pain until it seemed that every hair follicle was on fire. But once my bag was packed, I crossed my next challenge: putting on my jacket. I almost packed it away. But it would not fit in the bag. And tying it around my waist would be both an encumbrance and difficult to manage as I only had one functioning arm. I almost abandoned it. But it had been a gift. From who, I could not quite remember, but they had been important, one of the sole bastions of warmth from my old life. Leaving it behind was intolerable. I firmed my resolve and began putting it on. I started with the left arm, dangling it and guiding it into the sleeve. I zipped it up half way then slung my knapsack back on. My right shoulder was no problem. But when the strap crossed over to my left side, I just about passed out again. That had been ill advised. I decided to hang the sack from my right shoulder on my right side. I would have to take care not to lose it, but the alternative was leaving the haul behind. Intolerable. As I packed, I listened to the hundeor on the wind, trying to gauge their distance. Difficult, but I thought they might have been closing in. It could have been paranoia and fear, or even the wind playing tricks. But I thought they sounded just a little bit closer than before. I hastened my pace, hurrying away from them, further into the canyon system. While I focused on them, and perhaps not my path, I tripped on a loose rock. I fell forward. With the walls so close, I tried catching myself with my right arm, but I was also holding the backpack. I banged my elbow instead, then involuntarily twisted as my elbow caught on the wall. My left side hit the ground first. The pain, the agony, I could not contain it. I barely resisted screaming. Fire pulsed through my veins, my nerves screamed. I bit back a scream before it could do more than partially escape. It took some time to recollect myself. The pain had been significant. But laying on the ground would likely prove untenable as a long term tactic. The hundeor were coming closer now. They might have heard me. Staying on the ground was not just untenable, but suicidal. I needed to move. I forced myself to move. I could not let myself die, not until I¡­ there was something I needed to do, just on the tip of my tongue, remembering would have to wait. Biting my tongue, I started forward again. I crawled back up, getting my knees under me, then stumbling forward. I would not give up but I might falter. Regardless, I would survive. Like a chantra, I repeated this over and over again. But as the pain grew worse, I began to forget my reasons to continue surviving, if I ever had any at all. Certainly, giving up would ease the pain, if only I would succumb. Body: 49 (+1) What use was magic if I felt miserable? What use was remembering if my memories only provided torment? What use was there in forcing myself to continue? This was depression. I knew it. But knowing it never lessens it. And the agony failed to help contribute to any survival mechanism I might have. Death might be painful, but it could not compare to what I currently felt. Death might be scary, but it would only need to happen once, and then I could taste the bliss of nothing. I rolled onto my back. I propped out my jacket¡¯s lapels. At least I would die fashionably. I patted down my pockets for a smoke. But I had stopped smoking¡­ for¡­ for¡­ I could almost remember it, at the tip of my tongue. This was going to drive me nuts. Just another misery for the pile I guess. Clumsily, I reached down towards my right thigh for my knife, my sleeve caught on the hilt. That was when it hit me. I remembered. Mind: 58 (+1) My sister. I had a sister. Somewhere out there, was my sister, who loved me, who gave me this jacket, who convinced me to stop smoking, and who had convinced me to do something else, something major, an objective. One that had yet to be accomplished. That one person that cared for me, that pushed me to be better, that helped me make amends to balance all of it. She would not be let down. I would not let her down. No, I refused. Closed (8/9) (+1) I rolled back over and crawled my way up. I lurched forward, first a stumble, then a walk. I focused on each and every one of my steps. Body: 50 (+1) It would not be today. Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.4.4 Their yips and bark-like calls echoed through the crevasse behind him. Their footfalls destabilized the scree, causing crashes from behind. They were making far more noise than they should have, but they had thrown stealth to the wind, and they had no need for it. They were flushing me out from the narrow canyon. The hundeor were gaining, approaching, coming near, and I was in no condition to outrun them. But even so, I refused to release the spark of self-preservation, and I steeled myself and my courage: I would continue. But I only had one direction I could go, and with my left side wounded, climbing to escape was no option. No, I had to press forward. Regardless of if a trap waited or not. As I continued as fast as I dared while watching for uneven ground and loose stones, I weighed my options. The crevasse was dark, even for those with night-eye. I find a spot to hide. I doubted this would work, as the hundeor would check every nook, cranny, alcove, or shaded outcropping. At least I assumed they would. I doubted they were so foolish as to not. They had an animalistic wisdom. I considered that an Illusion might work, however. If the hundeor moved by quickly enough, before my Illusion expired. It was that, or get run down like prey. In a straight out chase, I would lose. As I continued forward, I had yet to come across a wide enough spot for me to hide and remain untrampled. The hundeor cackled in laughter somewhere behind me, louder now than before. Another option, one I had held in reserve: I could try climbing. I thought I could muscle through my weakness, through the pain, especially considering the stakes. The wall to my right might not have been a sheer face, but still steep enough to provide a challenge. Rather than perpendicular to the ground, it angled at perhaps eighty degrees. I set my right arm up and relied on the handhold to form. I began pulling myself up. The strain, even though using my right side, still pulled at my left. Fire spread through my chest. My lungs spasmed. I gasped and let go and began falling backwards. Refusing to land on my back, I kicked off from the wall and landed on my feet in a crouch then on my rear. Body: 51 (+1) My vision whited out for just a second. When I recollected myself, the hundeor had come even nearer. How had they not seen me yet? Had they heard my yelp? They were laughing, perhaps joking, though their words remained indistinguishable. With climbing verified as an impossibility, I had no choice. I needed to find a wider spot on the crevasse. Surely something would open up, if I just continued onward, and kept an eye for an opportunity. Minutes went by. I continued my trek forward. I had to slow my pace from a jog, the bouncing impacts, while slight, had felt horrific and left me light headed with difficulty breathing. I could not afford to lose consciousness. All the while, the hundeor nipped at my trail. They must have been playing with me. Or driving me towards a trap. Perhaps they lacked knowledge of my sorry state, and assumed I was bigger game than they could handle on their own. Or perhaps they were hunting at a leisurely pace. Regardless, it left my nerves wrought as my mind churned to find a solution. There was one, but a bad one, one I detested. My pace slowed. I kept pushing myself forward, but my strength waned. The hundeor were nearly upon me. I glanced over my shoulder, they sounded like they were right there, but I failed to see them. Was the sound just a trick? I wondered. I stumbled again. Banged my right side. Scraped my face and side of my muzzle. I could not keep going. I panted for breath, I actually, literally, panted. Like a dog. It disgusted me. This body, it disgusted me. Another glance, still no sightings. I continued forward, still hoping for another possible solution. Another minute passed, or perhaps minutes. Time blurred in a fog. I was flagging hard. A far off part of me acknowledged I was feverish, and perhaps delusional. Were there even hundeor pursuing me? I had to believe there were. But what I needed was a break. To catch my breath. Yes. Only to do that. Then I could continue. Just as I was about to settle against a fold in the canyon wall, I noticed that around the corner, that the crevasse opened up, just slightly. The crevasse opened up, the floor was filled with loose slate and scree. The left wall had partially collapsed, leaving the bottom of the crevasse just a little higher, and the left wall more or less a steep scramble. A new option: I could escape by climbing up the scramble. The footing would be treacherous, and in my current state lethally problematic. Fatigued. I just wanted this all to end. My eyes tracked the scramble upwards. I could almost make out the sky. I could almost make out shadows moving towards the top where it evened out. Was that where they planned to ambush me, I wondered. As I set about climbing? The climb already looked difficult enough as it was. Regardless, the slightly wider area along the crevasse served my requirements well, for my last remaining option. I found an almost corner, angled away from the way I had come, and pressed myself against the wall, waiting. My tail pinched and pressed against my legs and the ground. Not only was this uncomfortable, but also a liability when I moved. I twisted so that it hugged the wall beside me. An irritating posture that provided more of a profile than I wanted, but it was that or suffer yet another tripping hazard. Two options remained, well three, if I included surrender. The first was to use Illusion and hope for the best. The second, well, even if I loathed it, I had better prepare, just in case. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. I settled my sack down behind me on the ground and began digging through it. From the pale leather purse I grabbed a fresh Charger, one of the coins that still glowed. I pulled out the nice and sharp looking dagger and shoved it into my pants¡¯ pocket. It stuck out and likely would not remain there long, but it was also within easy reach of my right hand. But the dagger was secondary. After some rummaging, I found it. The gun-like-device. The Charger fit into the slot like a charm, and the trigger pushed outward slightly, on a tense hinge. The hundeor had still yet to arrive. I had time. It would be folly to waste it. I glanced around at the loose rocks, then at my bag. That could serve as a distraction. Yes.Carefully, and as soundlessly as I could, I began stacking the small rocks around the bag, giving it a larger profile, a more noticeable profile, and not one immediately recognizable, but one that was obviously unnatural and ill fitting in the crevasse. Some leather peeked through the gaps between rocks. A problem: With the bag there, originally positioned behind me, that meant that my position was now between where the hundeor would come out and the distraction. That was ill thought on my part. I considered relocating the bag and stones, but I felt certain at any moment that the hundeor would arrive. So I relocated myself, leaning against the scramble, still at the corner near where the hundeor would arrive. Still, a sub-optimal position, but at least I would not obstruct the hundeor¡¯s sightline of the distraction. I realized, belatedly, that using my bag in this way committed me to the second option, unless I felt satisfied in losing the bag and the provisions therein. Still, the plan repulsed me, and I hoped another solution would present itself. Nonetheless, I kept the gun-like-object ready, held in my right grip, with a finger near the trigger. And I waited. It took longer for them to reach me than I thought. They approached the final stretch with caution. They sniffed the air and scratched the ground and walls as they went, feeling for irregularities that their eyes may have missed. There were two of them, two hundeor. The fact they scratched the walls left me nervous¨Cdid they know about my Illusions? It was possible. Several of them had ¡®seen¡¯ them. I doubted they knew of my tangible Illusions. But using those would drain my reserves quickly, and I would rather not. Though if I had to, of course. Just twenty seconds of touchable Illusions went a long ways with creative application. As they came near, I saw the individual markings on their fur. One male, one female. They wore no clothes, only their fur. I recognized them. They were the same two that I met in the bandits¡¯ cave, near the pantry. Had they been watching me the entire time? Or had they watched me flee from the bandits¡¯ settlement? Regardless, they knew far too much. They neared the edge of the scramble, within five yards now. I could see them, which meant they could see me. Currently I relied upon the rocks of the scramble to break my lines, to provide camouflage. But as they neared, that reliance grew to be intolerable. Fortunately, I had a solution. ¡°Illusion.¡± I covered myself in [Chameleon], a blur surrounding me that matched the texture and coloration of the rocks I rested upon. If they reached me quickly enough, I could even use ¡®Touch¡¯ to completely fool them, or trip them, or¡­ gain the initiative. Motherswear it, was I really going to do this? Doubts plagued me. I was no killer. I was no murderer. I have had the chance before, it would certainly have improved my quality of life, but killing? It¡­ it just was not who I was, nor who I wanted to be. But was it really murder? Assuming I was unable to non-lethally incapacitate them, of course. They were animals. They were hostile. They had a language, they were sophont. Stealth: 8/9 (+1) Traceless Tracks: 4/9 (+1) What were my alternatives? Nothing good. I could not sacrifice initiative. Under the cover of my Illusion, I pointed the strange gun at where the hundeor would come out. But they paused. It was the male who had been leading. He stopped before I had both him and the female in view. Well, he was partially in view, but not enough for me to chance it. I held off, counting down the seconds I had left on [Chameleon.] He was looking at my distraction, the bag buried in stones. I reprimanded myself for that impulsive action. It had caused the hundeor enough consternation that they were now even more aware and on guard. Lessons learned, I guessed. He sniffed the air. ¡°Why stop?¡± the female asked from behind him. ¡°No smell,¡± he said, more of a bark and grunt. He pointed a clawed finger ahead of him at my bag, at the distraction. The female crouched down on her heels behind him to the side and her gaze followed where he was pointing. ¡°What that?¡± she asked. ¡°Den Smells. Found thief.¡± ¡°Why no move?¡± she asked. ¡°Dead?¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± he grunted. ¡°Maybe hide. We check.¡± ¡°You check,¡± the female scoffed, pushing him in the thigh. ¡°I stay. Guard.¡± ¡°We both¨C¡± The female shoved him harder, sending him stumbling out into the open, just in front of me, practically brushing against the tip of the gun. ¡°You do!¡± she demanded. He glared behind him for a second, but she extended her claws and made to swipe his backside with her claws. He yelped and hurried forward, while she laughed in that strange and eerie yipping song. She remained partially in view behind the corner. The male was just passing me, almost to my bag. I needed to do this. I would get no better opportunity. I had no choice. But still, doubts and indecision weighed me down, pressured in on me, as though I was sinking down into the depths of an ocean. I could not breathe. What if it killed him? I needed to kill him. But did I? Last minute alternatives: I could surrender; I could negotiate; I could flee; I could another Illusion to lead them away; I could trade what I had stolen from the bandits¨Cso many other options. But those other options were all uncertain¨Cunlikely to work¨Cwould remove my initiative. But was I heartless enough to not even try to peacefully resolve this? They had tried to eat me. I had stolen from them. While my indecision assaulted me, while the panic dragged the air from me, I found a lifeline. I grabbed it and pulled, and everything made sense again. Good girls listen to their mothers. I hated it. But these hundeor had struck first. They could have left well enough alone. This is on them. The responsibility, theirs, not mine. I had already aimed the muzzle of the gun-like-object at him. I screwed my eyes shut and pulled the trigger. Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.4.5 Even through my closed eyes, I still saw the bright pink flash A puff of hot air brushed against my fur. Notably, I felt no recoil. But something had definitely happened. I kept holding the trigger, strafing the direction where I thought the hundeor were. One of them yelped, almost screamed. The light flickered, then stopped. After the blinding light, all that was left was near impenetrable darkness. Even after I opened my eyes. ¡°W¨Cw¨Cthere?¡± the female stuttered. I was unsure what she was attempting to say. I finally released the trigger and began blinking my eyes. Spots flew across my vision. I could barely see. When no response came from the male hundeor, the female let out a keening wail. I had to steel myself against sympathy¨Cthey had pursued me, I kept reminding myself. One boon from the female¡¯s distraught wail: I had no problem locating her. She was to my right, lower than me. I had been shooting more towards the left, where the male had been, but I thought I might have hit her too. My vision began to clear. Body: 52 (+1) I blinked away the last of the spots. Where the male had stood, he no longer stood. In fact, I saw no evidence of him at all. Even the rock had recessed in a broad circle behind where he had stood, where the rock took on a waxy-melted-sagging texture. That explained how the hundeor had created their tunnels. But this was a poor time for recollections. The female screeched as she smoked. A portion of the blast must have hit her. But obviously, she yet lived. Besides a few scorch marks, she seemed unharmed. I pointed at her and once more depressed the trigger. Nothing. The trigger lacked the tension I had been expecting. From the first time, the melted stone had partially evaporated, and the toxic smoke burned my nostrils and left me dizzy. My feet burned where exposed. Sparks must have flown off from the first shot. My pants had several new smoldering holes. More wounds. In the recesses of my mind, a repressed thought uttered a manic laugh, saying the more the merrier, that if I were to suffer, I might as well suffer. Of course, I pushed that insanity away. I had survived worse. And I had things to do. The gun was dangerous. But it failed to fire a second time. Perhaps it needs a fresh Charger, I thought. I began digging through my pouch for a new one, while the female collected her wits. I expected her to be somewhat disabled, either from the blinding flash, or the smoke, or general shock. I ought to have had enough time to reload. An incorrect assumption on my part. ¡°You¨Cyou!¡± the female shouted. She leapt at me suddenly and without warning, springing up from where she had been crouching, and crossing the distance in a single fluid bound, skirting around the corner that had partially sheltered her. Upon me she landed, claws digging into my flanks. Her weight hitting my injured left side. Unable to help it, I screamed in pain and fell back, screaming again as I hit the irregular and sharp rocks. My hands spasmed. The gun dropped to the ground and clattered away. I lost track of it. The hundeor drove down upon me, her hands raking my sides again and again. Body: 53 (+1) Talent Unlocked: 9/9 (+1) To make matters worse, not only was I savaged, not only was the hundeor slavering and angling her jaws towards my throat, but my right arm burned and burned and felt as though I had doused it in gasoline and lit a match; and that fire did not restrict itself to that arm, but spread, swelling out from my pores outward, digging in through my muscles, tracing their fibers, scalding ligaments, and crushing bones. Once more, a scream escaped me. Talent Unlocked: Eschiver: Evasion (1/9) A string of drool fell on me from the hundeor. She could have killed me, but seemed to change her mind at the last moment, and rather than tear my throat out, she chose to maul my face. Or attempt too. As her jaws came down, an instinct left me tilting my head to the left. Her jaws tore shallow grooves through my cheek, with my fur helping to blunt the damage. With her head beside mine, I torqued my body, with my remaining strength, I headbutted her, sending her off balance to the side. I followed the momentum, twisting my body up and over her, like some sort of acrobat. The movements came easier than they should have, the sting of pain from my wounds felt less than they should have, and I had a second of respite to think of solutions. I had so many. A tangible Illusion could stop her. She brought her legs up and curled them, so that the claws on the edge of her toes-claws, her talons, her filthy and crude and crusty yet still sharp cutting implements, they began digging in, cutting into my jacket. But before they could hook in, instinct drove me rolling over her, using her to soften my own impact with the ground. Again, my flanks ought to have been disabling. The lines of fire stretching down my ribs had felt much worse earlier. Granted, it was impossible for me to notice that my third Talent unlocked, though I still had yet to check. I thought it might have been pain resistance, or something to grant an acrobats mind and body. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. While I mused, the hundeor did not remain idle. She scrambled to all fours and crouched in a spring, ready to shoot towards me. ¡°Illusion. Touch.¡± It was not difficult. With the amount of time I had seen in the wastes, the envisioning came quickly and easily, and an illusory rock wall, no thicker than a finger, formed between us just as she committed to her leap. She crashed into the wall. Pain split my head. A pounding roaring headache. The Illusion shattered and I fell backwards, clutching my head. Illusion I (2/9) (+1): Touch (2/9) (+1) The hundeor snarled and crashed into a real rock, her attack destabilized and her momentum uncontrolled. It would not limit her for long. That had been the first time one of my Illusions had broken. I was unaware that they could break. I would need to be careful of that in the future. I would need to test it. But for now, I needed to deal with this animal, and with the searing near-blinding pain behind my eyes, I doubted I could use another Illusion so soon. I needed options. Time seemed to slow. The hundeor had recovered and began springing towards me again. By instinct, I reached towards my pocket while sidestepping her angle of attack. My hand landed on the hilt of the dagger. The dagger. I remembered the dagger. Or did my new Talent remember it for me? Regardless, in a jerky motion, I unsheathed it as sidestepping, and angled it towards her. She crashed into it, it drove into her, by her own momentum, into the space between clavicle and neck. She shrieked. Her momentum hit my arm, and sent me spinning and crashing into the ground. The pain avoidance could not cover the agony from landing on my left side, on my wounds. I was going to die. Motherswear it, but I was dying. I was certain of it. Body: 54 (+1) A minute passed. I heard a gurgle, a wheeze. Another minute. The wheeze turned to a wet almost-laugh. Still, I had yet to expire. I groaned and rolled over, inspecting myself quickly. My jacket had taken the brunt of the damage. Her claws had shredded the material in long gashes, and the briery edges were only slightly damp with blood. My previous wounds, however¡­ I patted down my left side, gently, and the slightest pressure left me gasping. Another wet chuckle, or what I realized were a series of abortive yips. The female hundeor, still alive. She was crawling towards me, eyes burning with hate and fury. My dagger still embedded near her neck, halfway to the hilt. Should it be removed, she likely would have been in far more dire straits. But as it was, she had nearly reached me while I had been lost in my own suffering. Foolish. I castigated myself. What if she had reached me, I wondered. No, not wonder, for I knew what would have happened. I needed to act. But did I? I fell backwards, my back pressing against the slope of the scramble. I scooted upwards and away in an undignified fashion. Still, as slow as my escape was, it was still faster than the hundeor. I could just out run her. She would seek medical attention or die. Either way, I would not be caught by her again. I saw the moment she realized this, her eyes narrowed and she growled. The fur on my arms stood on end. She and I both saw the glint of silver on the ground near where I had originally been, where I had ambushed them from. The gun. She was far closer than me. But it was empty, out of ammunition. Possibly. So I hoped. But maybe not. Either way, I could not risk letting her have it. For two reasons: I needed it; she might get it working and use it against me. I lunged for it just as her arm stretched out and her filthy paws latched around it. She brought it up, or started to. This was a risk I refused to take. I landed on her and wrestled for the gun. She bit my arm. Her claws jabbed into me. I realized I had made a mistake. I should not have closed into melee. I had thought her weaker than she was. It might have been a ploy. Foolish! Not the time for castigation. Always the time, whispered the manic giggling voice. I needed to either break away or finish this. Breaking away would lose me my gun, possibly my supplies. Finishing this would¨C No. I refused to think. Only act. The dagger, half sticking out from the top of her chest, it was right there, within reach, so, I reached. My fingers closed around the hilt. ¡°No!¡± she barked. I shoved the dagger in with all the might my wounded state could match. Fortunately the dagger was sharp. It slid in with little resistance. She gurgled. I pulled the blade out and stabbed once more, this time messily, into her neck. She fell back, grabbing at the wound. I sat there numbly, watching, holding the dagger, pretending that I remained ready to act. She gave up pressing the wounds shut, and began crawling once more. At first, when she moved, I thought she would make one last attempt at vengeance. But no, she was headed away. Did she attempt to flee then? It was a little late for that, if so. But no, not that either. She collapsed near the burned and melted stone, still hot and sizzling. She sobbed, and must have found the last of her well of strength, for with on last lunge, she threw herself forward, onto the hot stone. She wailed and called out what might have been a name, might have been her mate¡¯s name. And then¡­ then she was silent. I began shaking. Then I began crying. But a thought occurred to me: this confrontation had been by no means quiet, and there were other hundeor in this tribe of animals that had hunted me. Earlier I had theorized that the two dogs had been flushing me out for an ambush. And earlier I had thought I had seen shadows moving in the above. All of this painted a grim picture, with one certainty above all other. I needed to leave. Crying over my atrocious actions and decision making could come later, I could learn from my lessons later, but if I were to survive, I absolutely needed to vacate the locale, to gain distance, and much of it. I owed my sister that and much much more. I grabbed my things and fled down the canyon, this time heading the way I had come from, figuring it the safest if the hundeor thought this end was already covered. But all the while, I could not shake the feeling I was being watched. Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.4.6 After I stumbled back into the canyon, I found myself leaning against a wall, barely holding myself up. My injuries had only grown in severity since I had received them, and to make it all worse, I felt incredibly frustrated at my new Talent, because at least on the surface, it appeared all but useless. Eschiver. I only had a vague idea of what that glyph included. To deny, avoid, forswear, evade¡­ why had I received such an untimely Talent? Every other time I had a new unlock, it had always been applicable to my needs at the time. When I needed to flee, I received Athletics and the ability to scale sheer vertical walls. When I needed to shake a pursuer, I received a Talent that helped me go unnoticed and that removed my tracks. But now, now that I was grievously wounded, bleeding, weeping, oozing, what did I get? A general ability to avoid taking damage in the first place. Certainly that would have been useful before I had been shot! But receiving it after the damage was already done? Insult to injury. Why could I not have received a Talent to mitigate the damage I had already taken, or an ability to heal? It left me wondering who had been responsible for marking me, for bringing me to this awful world. Useless. No giving in to despair! I chided myself, ignoring the whispering doubts and self-recriminations hounding me. I kept going, now climbing up a very slight slope, heading back towards where the bandits may have been. But there had also been turns and arterials turning off from the central canyon. I planned on finding one and taking it, escaping the hundeor and bandits, and then finding medical attention. I thought I heard a scratching noise padding along behind me. I turned quickly, the motion sending me careening into a wall. I winced, but kept from yelping. When I looked, I found nothing. Delirious. Feverish. Really, it was magical that I had yet to peel over dead. I really ought to have by now. Dehydration killed, and that was without festering holes in flesh. Which I had. The festering holes. The rot. The fever. It had grown difficult to form coherent thoughts. But still, I forced myself to continue. I ignored the temptation to lay down and die. I found a branch, a narrow one, one that I squeezed myself through. It opened up a bit beyond the initial pinch, otherwise traveling the ancient stream bed would have been murder. I continued trailing my right hand along the wall, to keep my balance, to keep from stumbling. Laying down would be so easy. Just follow gravity. Water flowing. So simple¡­ Why was I continuing this journey? Either the sun was going down, or my eyes were worsening. It could have been either. Alternating sweats and chills hindered me. One second, I shivered. The next, my jacket felt unbearable. My legs weak. Each step, each step¡­ just another step further. But why? Why must I suffer so? At the back of my mind, I knew I needed to rest. But I also knew, that should I rest, that getting back up would be all the more difficult. Likely impossible. Body: 55 (+1) Despite the pain, despite the delirium, I continued, pressing forward. At least I was continuing until I walked into a sudden dead end. My nose, the tip of my muzzle, hit the wall. I rebounded and landed on my rear. The base of my tail got caught between rocks and back, spraining it. And as I continued rolling back onto sharp stone, once again I hit my poor inflamed and rotting from the inside left side. This time, I did yelp. I hated my newest Talent. Or perhaps I was just spoiled. I had several supernatural abilities, such as climbing, and sneaking. But now, with this evasion, I had not even been able to evade a mothersworn wall! Or the ground! It was a disappointment. I was a motherswearing¨Cfuuu¡ªa motherswearing disappointment. I slung my bag off and settled back into the corner. Without any better recourse, I allowed myself to cry. And I pulled out the bottle of fortified spirits. I had found an ideal spot for a break. Defensible, and a dead end that would offer no escape. Just perfect. Evasion: 2/9 (+1) Body: 56 (+1) Traceless Tracks: 5/9 (+1) I jerked awake. An empty bottle on my lap, drool dripping down my neck, and cramps all along my legs and back. My neck felt stiff. I could barely move. Had I been in any other situation, I would have curled up in a hole and waited for help to arrive. But here was the thing. I heard a chuffing and a scratching somewhere further out, further in the way I had come from. This was fine. I had a plan. That I had developed while imbibing strong liquor. Deliciously strong liquor. When had I begun drinking? Why was my bottle empty? My thoughts, still muddled. I clamped my jaws shut before I accidentally giggled and gave my position away. They probably already knew where I was. Yet they had not entered my narrow cramped offshoot yet, so maybe not. I decided to err with caution. A bubble escaped up my throat and came out as a very small, tiny, practically unnoticeable emission. The chuffing sound never truly went away, though it came closer than further then closer once more. They were out there in the primary canyon, circling, seeking me, or working up the courage to enter the little dead-end offshoot I had crawled into. I doubted anyone would blame them for their lack of courage in accosting me in this narrow space. They probably knew I was armed with a deadly weapon. It was unlikely that they could flank me in this canyon. If they were to chase me in, they would do so single file, squeezed together by the terrain. An ideal shooting ground. But waiting for them to enter had not been my plan. No, but it did make use of the fact that the walls of the canyon were so narrow, that with my back pressed against one wall, I could touch the opposite with the tips of my fingers. Or, more practically, with my legs. Collecting my things, I pushed my back against one wall, and began walking my ways up. My Talent made this task easier than it should have been. My back practically slided up, as though it were lubed. And my feet never slipped. My Talent failed to help mitigate the pain. But the light-headed dullness from the spirits did. I was about halfway up the canyon walls, congratulating myself, when I heard the hundeor speaking. But their voices were not coming from below as I expected. No. But from above. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. That was not per the plan at all. Even in my delirious and possibly drunken state, I had the wits to pause my ascent. I listened in, straining to make out their voices. It came difficult at first, with the distance, and the wind, and the chuffing from below, but as I focused, it grew easier. Mind: 59 (+1) A stern female was speaking. I recognized that voice. The den mother from the hundeor cavern, from where I had raided their supplies, and possibly had lured (unintentionally) an ooze monster into attacking them. Afterwards, I had followed them to the humans¡¯ encampment, where I know at least several of the hundeor had perished. However, hearing her speak now, this confirmed my suspicions that the hundeor were making a unified effort to hunt me. I could not say that their motivation was unwarranted either. Of course, that meant nothing, except that I was unlikely to successfully negotiate with them, especially when I had killed two of their own personally. As I listened to their conversation, our irreconcilable differences only grew more apparent. ¡°...stole our treasures!¡± the den mother shouted. Several yips and barks followed, coming from around the speaker. I was unable to count them exactly from my position below them, but there were at least two others. ¡°...killed my children!¡± she snarled. ¡°Even led ¡­ to our door! We ¡­ vengeance!¡± She shouted at the top of her lungs, causing dust to come loose, raining down on me from the top of the canyon. ¡°We will wear her entrails!¡± If they were above me waiting, and if several were below me waiting, then I lacked many options of escape. But that did not mean I lacked any options. I just needed to think about it a bit, and not give away my exact position. I remained where I was, holding as still as I could. My back hurt, and my legs had begun to tremble from providing the constant tension holding me up, but I could remain where I was for a while yet. ¡°Wet your claws!¡± the den mother shouted. Her minions repeated her with less eloquence. ¡°Wet claws!¡± I counted three others from their voices. This was growing increasingly sub-optimal. ¡°Open your maws!¡± she demanded. ¡°Open maws!¡± they repeated in varied barks and howls. They were going to flush me out from where they thought I was. Which meant I had an opportunity, a hazy one, and one not without inconsiderable risk. But an opportunity nonetheless. ¡°Chase her! Find her! Rend her flesh and crush her bone!¡± She howled. ¡°Go!¡± That moment several things happened at once. From down below eager barking echoed up as claws scraped on stone, coming through the narrow entrance. From up above, three of the hundeor laughed as they dove over the sides of the canyon, jumping from wall to wall to slow their descent into a nonlethal fall. At that time, I mouthed, ¡°Illusion,¡± forming a [Chameleon] blur around me to help hide me. It would not last for long, but it gave me time to figure out my next steps. Within seconds, the hundeor from up top met the ones down below, and both groups realized I was not down there. Their faces almost appeared comical. From down below, I would be a dark smudge on the night sky, still within the shadows of the canyon wall. So near imperceptible. ¡°Where prey?¡± one of them asked. ¡°Here? Smell ... No her.¡± The den mother apparently grew impatient. ¡°What happen?!¡± she shouted over the edge, peering down into the darkness. I could just barely see her outline. She stood twenty feet to the side, not directly above me, which meant my Illusion likely was unnecessary at this point. Unless she had excellent vision, she would not be seeing me. Evasion: 3/9 (+1) My hips had begun to spasm, and the twinges traveled all the way up to my left side, leaving trails of fire. Ordinarily, I would remain where I was until the perfect opportunity presented itself. But in my current state, I doubted I could hang where I was for much longer. As silently as I could, I began sliding up the wall, relying on the noise of the hundeor down below to cover up the sound of my back scraping against the wall as I rose. I made it to ten feet below the lip of the canyon wall. Thus far, none had noticed me. I remained as alert as I could, and ready to call forth an Illusion at a second¡¯s notice. The den mother began pacing back and forth snarling as the reports came up from down below. ¡°No see prey!¡± one of the hundeor down below called out. ¡°What you mean?! We tracked her here! Is dead-end!¡± ¡°We wrong?¡± the hundeor asked, scratching its chest. ¡°Look harder!¡± the den mother shouted back down. ¡°Yes den mother.¡± I had less than five feet to go. The moment I reached the top, I would cover myself in an Illusion and begin slinking away. If I got far enough, then I could rely on Traceless Tracks to hopefully lose them. It was one thing for them to track me in a canyon system where the directions I could choose were limited. It was another to track me on the surface where I could take my pick of directions. As I continued, already prepping the Illusion in my mind¡¯s eye, the den mother grumbled to herself. ¡°She has tricks. She was down there. She has tricks¡­¡± She froze, seeming to have made a realization. ¡°She is here.¡± She growled and grew even more alert. Three feet to go, and I began twisting around my good arm to finish my climb. Her ears flicked. ¡°She¡¯s up here!¡± the den mother shouted. She was already running towards me. I still had a foot to go before I could reach the top with my arm. She was three paces away. Three strides. Not nearly enough space. I had run out of time for a safe course, and instead had to take a gamble, roll the dice. Stepping one leg before the other, I ran up the wall while keeping my back in place. My legs were soon above me. I kicked off. My legs tasted air. I began to fall down, headfirst. My calves hit the ground at the top of the cliff face, I hooked my legs, holding myself up and sitting up. My side strained. It hurt. I pushed through it as rapidly as I could. Body: 57(+1) Athletics: Climbing: 9/9 (+1): I rolled in a tangle face first on the top of the cliff. The den mother stood on the other side of the narrow chasm. She leapt across as I was getting back to my feet. She went around and cornered me, my back against the cliff, her to my front. ¡°No more,¡± she growled. ¡°You suffer. Return what you stole.¡± From down below, several hundeor clattered. They shouted over each other in enthusiastic barking, showing their support for their den mother. ¡°Can¡¯t climb!¡± ¡°Push her down!¡± ¡°Kill!¡± If they were stuck down there, then I still had a chance. I just needed to deal with the den mother first. ¡°Can¡¯t we talk it out?¡± I asked hesitantly, already knowing she would say no, already preparing, putting my right hand on my sheathed knife. Slowly, I began to draw. ¡°Die,¡± she snarled, lunging and swiping at me. I jumped to the side, and went further than I should have. I landed softer than I expected, leading to an awkward stumble. She followed through, swiping again, her long claws hissing through the air. I pulled out my knife and held her at bay, or tried to. But my efforts were weak. She was not convinced of the danger of approaching. Or she did not care. ¡°Illusion.¡± I formed a black [Shroud] over her head, blinding her. In the moment of her distraction, I jumped towards her, driving my weight into the knife into her. Or that had been the plan. She sidestepped away from the cliff while raking her claws across my arms and shoulder. My wrist seized and my knife fell, hitting the stone out of reach. My concentration faltered and my Illusion broke. She gave a wolfish grin while showing me her bloody claws. She brought them up to her muzzle and licked them clean. My stomach churned while I hugged my arm in. I stepped backwards, away from her. My back was no longer to the cliff. I could turn and run. But I would never outrun her. She could catch me the moment I turned. ¡°For family,¡± she said. ¡°They ¡­ be avenged!¡± She began coming towards me, methodical, slow, drawing out my suffering. I refused to give up. I had already decided to live. I would not let this animal make me an abjurer. ¡°Illusion,¡± I said. I formed a [Clone] beside her. She glanced derisively at the shadowed person and snorted. ¡°More tricks? ¡­ won¡¯t work.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯ve seen this one yet,¡± I told her. ¡°Touch.¡± My energy pool began to plummet. I knew I could only keep this Illusion active for a short period of time. But I only needed a short period of time. The clone took on substance, becoming a solid humanoid, made of an indeterminate but solid black material. She growled and crouched slightly. Her muscles tightened. Her eyes unfocused. She was going to jump. My tangible [Clone] slammed into her first. She yipped in surprise. The [Clone] carried her over the side of the cliff, mostly into the chasm. She barely clung to the side. My [Clone] hung from her. ¡°Whaa¨C¡± she yelped. But I took no time to flaunt. My [Clone] pushed away from the cliff while still holding her, away and downward. Her grip loosened, and she plummeted downwards in a tangle with the construct. Touch: 4/9 (+1) I grabbed my knife and hastened to get away from there, but before I left earshot, I heard the hundeor in the canyons howl mournfully. Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.4.7 I managed to continue stumbling along most of that night. My heading and direction were unknown, but I needed to put distance between myself and the canyons in order for my Talent Trackless Tracks to obscure me from the hundeor. After all, leaving no tracks would do me little good if they could still see me when they managed to exit the canyons. A portion of me, a practical and ruthless portion, wondered if it would not be better to simply pick the hundeor off one by one. I could drop stones down upon them, or perhaps even tangible Illusions. If they were dead, then they would pose little threat. But no, not only was I not a killer¨C ¨Cliar¨C ¨Cbut I could not be certain to hit all of the hundeor before they reached me. In fact, there could be other hundeor already on the surface striving towards me to take their vengeance. In the end, I decided my best course of action was to simply flee in a random direction, down into the lower hills, away from the canyons I had taken refuge in. However, my pace was not quick by any means. By the time the morning came, and the assumed sun began to rise, I could still hear the hundeor on the wind, calling to each other, mourning. Rather than risk discovery, I found a cleft between gray boulders to shelter and rest in. I found no sleep that morning. Curled up in a ball and narrowing my profile as much as possible, I kept alert as I listened for pursuers. The hundeor searched for me. I heard them, sometimes in the distance, and sometimes near. It must not have taken them long to exit the canyons, and I assumed they were scouting the hills. But unless they were incredibly lucky to stumble upon me, or I made a foolish mistake and revealed myself, they would not find me. And so, I waited. After an hour of constant vigil, I began to grow weary. My eyes weighed heavily. But still, I resisted, in case I had need of a quick Illusion to cover myself, or to strike down a foe. To keep myself awake, and to keep from wasting time, I busied myself practicing Illusions. If the hundeor managed to get the drop on me, then I would regret expending much of my energy upon practice. But with my sharp ears, I remained confident that I would know of their approach well enough beforehand. The first that I practiced, that seemed the most beneficial should I be forced into combat, was a tangible clone wielding a knife. My first attempt was just as rough and misshapen as the one I had used to tackle the den mother. The tail was crooked and discolored, its clothes stiff and lacking a certain element of realism. Its fur appeared clumpy as opposed to a summation of many thousands of hairs. Its eyes were too big and too dull. The worst part of the Illusion was the knife. I ran a finger along where the edge should have been, but only found a cold surface that was both flimsy and blunt. While turning and inspecting the Illusion, I used up all twenty seconds worth of Illusion time on the attempt, exhausting my pool, and leaving myself with a slightly worse headache. Again, I thought. This time I focused extensively on the knife itself. It had not improved that I could tell. I tried taking it from the clone¡¯s hand, but the knife would not budge from the grip. When I pulled on the blade, it seemed to stretch. When I pulled on the clone¡¯s hand, its arm stretched. It reminded me of cold taffy, slow to give, but giving all the same. I decided that I would not succeed in taking the knife by force, and I tried having the clone open its hand to release the knife. It took a moment. It was not as simple as providing an instruction. I had to envision it. I found it easier to imagine opening my own hand, but in the clone¡¯s stead. My hand might have twitched as well when I tried sending the direction. I would need to address that control issue eventually. But finally I was able to inspect just the knife on its own. Unfortunately, the twenty seconds worth of time ran out, and the clone expired. My headache only grew. Spirit: 45 (+1) After my energy recharged, I tried once more, this time immediately opening my clone¡¯s hand. The knife, despite my expectations, failed to follow gravity and fall. It remained stuck to the clone¡¯s hand. Upon closer examination, I found that there was no gap between the hilt and the palm of the hand. I tried pulling the blade once more. This time, I could see the palm deform as tension was applied. It was a solid piece. All of the Illusion, it was just one object. The knife actually merged with flesh. I let the Illusion expire as I thought about it. In a way, it made sense. I had struggled to create parallel Illusions in the past. If I had been able to separate the knife from the clone, then it would be two Illusions, unless I let go of one or the other. But was this a limitation of the Spell, or a limitation of my expertise? But there was no reason for me to tackle this problem wholesale. The next Illusion I crafted was one of just the knife. This time, it felt real, like metal. I tested the edge on my thumb, and while not razor sharp, it could still cut if enough pressure was placed on it. I used the [knife] to scratch at the boulder. It did begin to bend with undue strain, and it felt easier to disform than my utility knife did, but the fact that the [knife] felt solid at all was magical. Literally. I might have snorted at the poor attempt at humor. I continued practicing on forming the knife, over and over. Each attempt, it became just a little more solid, and a little more acute. By my fifth attempt, I thought I might be able to shave with it. By my tenth attempt, I thought I might be able to do so without receiving razor burn. Each attempt blended into the next, again, again, and again. Touch (5/9) (+1) Spirit: 46 (+1) Mind: 60 (+1) A chuff. Startled from my trance, I realized I had lost track of my surroundings. I ceased to breathe and let my last Illusion drop. Replaying what I had just heard, I could have sworn it was an animalistic exhale. Very cautiously, I looked around my surroundings. They had yet to spot me, or if they had, they had yet to assault me, at the very least. I assumed it had been the hundeor that I had heard. ¡°Illusion.¡± I cast a [Chameleon] around me. It had improved since my initial inception of it, but not by enough to truly hide me, at least not under the light of day and exposed, out in the open. Still, better than nothing, I thought. Another chuff. Nearby, but also faint. Were they waiting for their brethren to arrive to assault me? I could not think of another reason that they would solicit themselves nearby without actually trying to attack me. I expected that they had noticed me while I had been entranced by my practice, and that they had sent for reinforcements. I absolutely needed to know what I was dealing with. And so, very slowly, very softly, I crept forward to peer around the edge of the boulder. No hundeor was in sight. The chuff came again, but this time joined by another sound, a scraping, and what might have been a chitter. It was coming from close. Where were they? Were they playing games with me? No, that made no sense. The sound was coming from up above. I scanned the rocks above me. No sign of hundeor there either. This was unusual, even for hundeor. Not that I would make myself to be an expert on their behavior. Convinced that something was afoot, I circled the nearest boulders and climbed a ways up a hill to gain a better vantage. I finally spotted the source of the noise. A small mammal was scraping lichen and snails off of the boulder I had been resting under. It had four legs, and looked almost like a gray teddy bear. A marmot. My Illusion expired, and my head pounded. I grew somewhat dizzy. At some point during my practice, my headache had morphed into a full on migraine. I went back to sitting down in the shade, drinking water, and I avoided practicing again until my headache subsided. Not completely unproductive, however, as I did check the map. Likely, the map would be the only way I could survive given my wounds. The one going through my shoulder continued to puss and the rancid scent had only grown worse. Even if I did find medical attention, I felt unsure of my survival. But still¡­ I had to try. I had promised that much. So after unrolling the map, I tried to find the nearest population center that might be able to assist me. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Whoever illustrated the map spent more time adding artful flourishes than valuable detail. They had failed to add any legend or cardinal direction, so that I could not even be sure which direction was north or south on the map¡­ if this world even had such concepts. I felt certain that they must. I had trouble imagining a scenario where the inhabitants found another way to navigate, but I supposed it might have been possible. But given that the map lacked much that I would have otherwise desired, there was still much value to be found. For instance, the map appeared to be focused on the Underside of the Middens Empire, at least according to its title. I scanned what I thought were populating centers. And while I could not be certain, I felt that the most detail would be spent drawing where people lived, especially if those people would be potential buyers for said artistic map. On the farthest corner, a city of many walls had been built around an assumed oasis. It had several layers of walls from the art, as well as many large buildings that were either artistic interpretation of keeps, or crude sky-scrapers. It could go either way from as far as I could tell. The city, if indeed it was a city, was labeled ¡®Bath.¡¯ Considering the oasis it had been built around, it seemed a sensible name. If I had found an oasis in this hellscape, I would have built a city around it as well. But knowing that this was a marker for a city, I could infer several others based upon this. For from Bath extended a thick and long line bisecting the map. As the line appeared to follow the topography, I decided the line was likely a road, and a well traveled one at that. At the far end from Bath, was another city, though drawn much smaller than Bath. This second city featured a large bridge that went off map, and the city¡¯s name was Southbridge. I felt certain I had heard mention of it, so it was likely closer to where I was than Bath. However, I still had difficulty deciding where I was on the map, for the wastes were fairly generic and I could not be certain how accurate the mountains and canyons were on the map. I did note that parts of the land were more shattered than others, and I thought I was likely in one of the more shattered areas. Then it occurred to me. The map¡¯s previous owners were bandits with a sizable encampment. Likely, they would have marked themselves upon the map, or at least places of relevance to them. So spreading out from Southbridge, I looked for aftermarket additions, or marks that failed to match the style and weight of the rest of the map. I quickly found one. Then another. And then, another. Apparently the previous owners had left plenty of markings along the map, near the major roads, near Southbridge, and a few further out into the more difficult to traverse areas. Knowing that I had not seen any roads yet, and that I was likely in one of those difficult to traverse areas, I narrowed down the potential areas I was in by a substantial amount. One of two areas. One was on the left side of the road, and one on the far far right side. Both were near mountains and rough shattered looking terrain. Unfortunately, I was unable to narrow it down further. I was forced to take my best guess. I tried lining up what I had seen with the map the best I could, and I maybe thought I was on the left side of the road, heading towards it, with the canyons between me and the encampment. By that time, it was getting closer to the afternoon. I forced myself to eat a raw tuber, and I took sips of water, hoping to conserve at least some of it, but knowing that I likely would be unable to. Since I had not heard the hundeor approach any closer, other than the false scare caused by the marmot, I decided to do my best to take a nap and recover some of my energy. That night, I set out, heading in what I wanted to call an Easterly direction, towards what I hoped was the road. There were no further incidents while I recovered that afternoon, and that evening I set out once more. As I still was unsure of the hundeor¡¯s last location, even under the cover of darkness I still kept to the cracks and crannies, always keeping an object to my side to break my outline. It made travel last longer, but given my physical state, I had little choice. I traveled all through the night. I constantly found my path obstructed by crevasses or cliff faces, which was likely exacerbated by my strategy of keeping near rough terrain. Body: 58 (+1) Come morning, I felt I had run a marathon, and I had difficulty feeling my left arm. As daylight broke, I collapsed in the shade of a cleft, and I began to shiver uncontrollably. I felt incredibly cold. But was also sweating profusely, which was of course ill-advised, given the shortage of water. Unable to rest in my current condition, I went back over the map, trying to find any of the hills I had seen on the map. I found a couple possibilities, but it was all too inexact to know for sure. I needed to rest though, if I were to continue the next evening. I tried my best. I really did. I tossed and turned and curled around my bag and tail. The shivering never ceased. The only comfort I found was in the last of my bottled spirits. That night, I set out again. This time I took a straighter course, to keep from getting turned around. It had been hard enough keeping my heading the night before. I set a distant rise as my guiding mark on the horizon and I set off. After I had been walking for some time, I began to grow delirious. Or perhaps, even more delirious than I had been prior. I thought that I might have seen strange green creatures from the corner of my eye. But when I looked, I saw nothing. It was a distant problem. All I needed to do was focus on my guiding mark, my anchor, and keep walking, one foot, then the other. Another day. My fever grew worse. I trembled and began digging through my bag, looking for anything that could abate the suffering. I drank the last of my water. I ate the tubers until I gagged. The food of this world tasted so foul! Towards midday, I awoke from a nightmare. I thought that I heard a clickety clacking, reminiscent of high tension wires, or the wind blowing through a bamboo forest. I saw nothing around me, though there were some very curious scents. Ones that reminded me of yellow and curiosity. Mind: 61 (+1) A migraine drove me back under. The sky was dark by the time I awoke. I was unsure how much of the night I had wasted. My health had continued to decline. I smelled sick and rank, and that was ignoring the rotting. My temperature had continued to spike, which left me feeling far too cold. If I were to survive, then I would need to continue. Working myself up to actually move took some time and internal pep talking, but I did eventually arise. The penalties for failing to do so were far too dire. And so, I continued onward. Objects continued moving in the peripherals of my vision. But that failed to matter, so long as I continued on my headings. So long as I did that, then I would be saved. Maybe. Hopefully. Possibly. My breathing labored. I saw a flash of green. When I looked, I thought I saw a green human covered in flowers and vines. While it did not speak, the scent I caught from it was a mixture of curiosity and impressed with a mixture of yellow. Mind: 62 (+1) A stabbing pain near the base of my skull left me cringing and cowering down. When I got back up, other than a trace impression of concern, the creature was gone. An hallucination. For all the impact the creature had, it might as well have been, even if it had been real. I continued onward. Sometime later, the sky brightened. I scanned my surroundings, then the map. I tried to understand where I was. But I felt dizzy and tired. Concentrating proved impossibly difficult. I doubted I could survive much longer. I needed to find help. I needed to reach the road. I decided to take the risk and travel by daylight, to press on. I continued trudging forward, only occasionally stumbling. What felt like an eternity passed, just one foot after another, step after step, again and again, and I just had to keep continuing on towards my guiding marker right there on the¨C A jolt of dread traced down my spine and knocked me from my reverie. I was unable to locate the guiding marker I had been using. Where was it? I scanned my surroundings, but could not find it. Which meant I had lost it some time ago. Which meant I had gone off course. I cursed myself. But no, good girls never¨C I don¡¯t care what good girls do! I screamed to myself. For I had lost my direction. I was lost. The map was worthless. I was going to die. Despairing, I collapsed to my knees. After all this effort, this would be how I died. Almost humorous. The scent was calming. A musky scent, carrying concern along with something more, a complex undertone. Taken as a whole, it was meant to comfort me. I thought. A weight pressed against me. I jostled and swayed. When I cracked my eyes open, I was looking up at what certainly must have been a dream. It was an odd cow-like humanoid, but vines grew into its flesh and skin, while tendrils flexed along its exterior. The clicking sound was from these tendrils as they slipped over each other with its movement. My head still hurt, along with everything else, but the pain had fractionally abated. The scents were interesting. It was almost a song. They changed over time. Soothing. Mind: 64 (+2) I found myself drifting off once more, leaning into the creature¡¯s chest as it carried me. It was evening when I awoke. I found myself on a rise. The creature had vanished, leaving me on an uncomfortable bed of stone. My back felt cramped. My mouth tasted odd, sweet with sour afternotes. I licked my lips, and found hints of the same flavor. I had been fed something in my sleep. I had no recall of it. I might have been drugged, as revulsive as the idea seemed. What the creature¡¯s motivations were: unknown. I patted down my things. Or where my things should have been. I began going over myself more frantically, then looking around. It was missing. My bag was gone! But if it had meant to rob me, then why had it carried me here? So many things failed to add up. I needed to determine where ¡®here¡¯ was. I began surveying my surroundings. As I glanced down the steeper side of the slope, my heart leapt. There were wagons. A road. People. A laugh broke my lips as I started down the hill towards them. While I was descending, perhaps carelessly, a piece of slate slid out from under me, and I ended up crashing to the ground then tumbling down the scramble. Embarrassing, yes. But at the time, all I could do was yelp and whimper and try to protect my injured side as I rolled. Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.4.X.1 Sentry duty was boring. In fact, the entire trip was ending up much more dull and boring than Kate had been hoping for. There Kate was, patrolling around the camp as evening set, doing absolutely nothing to improve herself. She could be practicing her forms, working with Gregory on artificed sword designs, or even sparring with one of the knights. But instead, she had to do the first shift of sentry duty while everyone else got settled in for the night. They had been on the road for a week, and Kate was getting sick of it. There had yet to be even a single bandit attack. From the stories, Kate had been expecting more. At the very least, to dispatch a highwayman or three. But no, nothing. No action. Just¡­ travel. It made her sick. And according to the Caravan Master, there were still two weeks to go until they reached Bath. Kate shuddered at the thought, and almost pulled at her hair to relieve the stress of it all. Only the redeeming fact that she would receive an additional sword aligned sacred mark at the end of the journey calmed her down. The results would be worth it. That was what kept her going, kept her sane, kept her from cutting down those that would hinder her. Another deep breath. She continued her route around the camp. She would not throw away her entire life just because of a moment¡¯s impatience. It was just¡­ hard. Yes, that was it, she thought. But like any other challenge, she would overcome. And besides¡­ sentry duty did not necessarily have to be a complete waste of time. While she patrolled, she kept an eye on her aunt. Aunt Janet, otherwise known as Lieutenant Muleater, was the nominal leader of the knights assigned to accompany the caravan north. Aunt Janet was also the one in charge of Kate. Kate scoffed at the thought. Whatever. At the center of the camp, Janet had just settled down by the fire, in discussion with her uncle Ken. Ken, unlike Janet, was only a knight, despite his bloodline. He was always a bit bitter about it, but that was his problem. Currently though, while Kate was unsure of what they were discussing, she was glad for Janet¡¯s distraction. Soon, as Kate patrolled, she put a large covered wagon between herself and Janet. With the view obstructed, and with Janet¡¯s back turned, and with Janet¡¯s distraction, Kate felt it was safe enough. ¡°Finally,¡± Kate huffed. She stopped walking and began unlimbering. She stretched and held poses to warm her core and exercise the small muscles. Once she had a gleam of sweat, she unsheathed her bastard sword and began practicing her forms. From the Bull to a Lunge, a passing step then the Heron, a power slice than the Sloth. She danced from form to form, attempting to envision a shadow foe. Shadow fighting had never been her expertise, it required too much effort to imagine an enemy and fight it at the same time, but she had no choice with the slim pickings on the trip, and she had been getting better. Her imaginary foe now used some simple attacks, which Kate parried into a pummel strike, followed by a passing cut. The biggest problem she encountered was separating the imaginary foe from herself. As she knew what the foe would do in advance, it was difficult to be surprised, and was hence a poor substitute for live combat. Better than nothing, though. While she danced and focused on creating her foe, she lost track of her surroundings. To her own detriment, of course. ¡°Shirking in your duties again.¡± Kate finished her strike and suppressed her groan. In her sixth sense, she perceived Lieutenant Muleater leaning against the wagon, watching judgefully. ¡°I¡¯m keeping an eye out.¡± ¡°Please. Anyone could have snuck up on you. I wasn¡¯t even trying. You need to work on your battlefield awareness¨CI won¡¯t have my niece dying of something embarrassing.¡± ¡°You¡¯d be alright with me dying then?¡± Kate joked, trying to get her aunt off her back. ¡°No. Of course not.¡± Janet sighed as Kate sheathed her weapon and turned around so that they faced each other. ¡°You begged us to go to Bath,¡± Janet said. ¡°You begged. You¡¯re the one that wanted to do this. You¡¯re the one that wanted to sign up as a merc.¡± ¡°Yeah, but only because you and mom wouldn¡¯t agree to sponsor a proper trip north!¡± Kate protested, already knowing where Janet was taking this. ¡°For good reason,¡± Janet snorted. ¡°And that doesn¡¯t change the fact that you wanted this. And let me tell you, the duties you have right now? They¡¯re light compared to what real mercs would have.¡± ¡°I¡¯m good for a fight,¡± Kate huffed. ¡°That¡¯s what matters.¡± Janet groaned. ¡°Most of what knights do, gods, even most of what mercs do, isn¡¯t fighting. It¡¯s work like this. Prepping gear and supplies. Walking. Grinding away the hours while trying to stay alert. Because let me tell you, that one moment you aren¡¯t alert? That¡¯s the moment you¡¯ll die.¡± Kate scoffed. ¡°I¡¯ve let my guard down plenty of times and I¡¯m still alive. So obviously you¡¯re wrong.¡± Janet clenched her fists and tightened her shoulders, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply out from her nostrils. ¡°You know what I mean.¡± ¡°Yeah sure, whatever. You done?¡± Kate asked with somewhat intentional irreverence. Janet growled with exasperation. ¡°Crown save me from my sister¡¯s teenage daughter!¡± ¡°You could try punishing me,¡± Kate needled, knowing full well that Janet¡¯s options were limited. Janet barked a laugh. ¡°Yeah? How? Not like I could cane you, and even if I could, you¡¯d just consider it training. The closest I¡¯ve got is putting you on second shift, but you¡¯d probably just ignore your duty without someone to keep you honest. It¡¯s just so frustrating!¡± Kate smirked. ¡°If only there was a way to show you that actions have consequences¡­¡± Janet said thoughtfully. Something in her tone caused Kate to grow wary. Almost as if Janet had a way to punish Kate already. But no, if Janet had such a method, then surely it would have been put to the test already? ¡°Maybe I could take your discretionary funds while in Bath¡­¡± Janet said thoughtfully. And while that would be onerous, it really did little to bother Kate. If that was all Janet was thinking of, then Kate had nothing to worry about. Relief started to set in. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. ¡°...Or maybe I could take your sword.¡± ¡°What?¡± Kate¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°You heard me.¡± ¡°But¡­ if I don¡¯t have my sword, then how could I fight if we¡¯re attacked?¡± ¡°You still don¡¯t get it,¡± Janet sighed. ¡°The first duty of a sentry is not to fight. It¡¯s to give warning. If you did see something, you would call out and then I would arm you. And it¡¯s not like you don¡¯t have a dagger.¡± ¡°Bu¨C¡± Kate stuttered in protest. Surely Janet was jesting? But as Kate looked into Janet¡¯s eyes, Kate saw nothing to bely humor. ¡°-you¡¯re serious.¡± ¡°I am.¡± ¡°You¡­ you want to take my sword?¡± Kate asked, feeling numb all over from the horror. ¡°If I catch you shirking your duty again? Then yes, you don¡¯t deserve it.¡± Kate gulped. ¡°I¡­ alright. I¡¯ll be good.¡± ¡°You had better,¡± Janet said. ¡°I¡¯d hate to explain to your mother that you died due to your own inattentive folly.¡± Janet left to return to the fire, leaving Kate to dwell on her fate. A moment passed, and Kate shook herself from her reverie. Kate decided that she had better follow through and keep an eye out. At least for a few days. Until her aunt forgot about the threat. Kate continued her sentry, pacing around the perimeter of the camp, and watching the hills. It was not much later, with the sky dark, that Kate caught a glimpse of movement along one of the rises. Her blood warmed and the hair on the back of her neck rose. She should let someone know. But¡­ she should verify first. After all, it could have just been nothing. Kate left the camp and prowled into the darkness, heading towards where she had seen movement. As she approached, she caressed the hilt of her blade, rubbing it with her thumb, feeling the ridges of the bindings. Time was slowing down. Each breath deliberate. Lithe steps, as light as a dancer. Her mouth watered with anticipation. ¡°Kate!¡± Kate cringed. Gregory had called out and was now jogging towards her from the camp, his heavy footfalls made as much racket as a drunk meohr. ¡°Did you see something?¡± he asked, only somewhat out of breath. ¡°I know that your aunt¡¯s been a bit harsh, so don¡¯t you think you oughtn¡¯t¡­ do whatever it is you¡¯re doing?¡± he asked with weakness and hesitation. Kate had stopped stalking towards the hillside, but she had yet to turn her back on a potential foe. However, she needed to respond to the boy. ¡°Is there a reason you¡¯re out here?¡± Kate asked, her teeth only somewhat gritted. ¡°I¡¯m making sure you don¡¯t get in trouble,¡± Gregory said. ¡°So what, you were just watching me this whole time?¡± Kate asked. ¡°No?¡± Gregory said. Kate chuckled, or tried too. Her voice was far too high pitched to really convey the derisive intent that she meant. ¡°So how¡¯d you know I left?¡± she asked. ¡°...I thought I¡¯d check on you and see if you wanted company,¡± he said. ¡°And that just happened to be when¨C¡± ¡°-yes! Fine, alright. I might have been watching for you to come by. Is that such a crime.¡± Kate scoffed. ¡°At least you admitted it.¡± Before she could further dress him down, or he could further weasel out of it, they heard a cry, followed by a crashing sound. Slate skittered down the hill, and Kate tracked movement coming down it, and fast. ¡°Stay behind me!¡± she called, drawing her bastard sword and charging into battle. The clattering stone came to a stop at the base of the hill, along with a lump of something purple. Kate rapidly scanned the surroundings for any sign of a trap. She hoped for a trap. For anything. But no, it was just that lump. As she approached, it came within range of her sixth sense. ¡°Oh.¡± ¡°What is it?!¡± Gregory asked from behind her¨Che stood far too close. If this had been a battle, then he would have entangled her from moving effectively. But it had not devolved to a battle, and Kate suspected it to remain that way. Rather than answer Gregory, Kate approached even closer, though carefully keeping her sword ready to strike from a fool¡¯s pose. The creature, and it was a creature, was wounded and still breathing¨Cthough faintly. It had a thicker and poofier tail than she had ever seen before, and its ears were sharper and longer than was typical as well. Even its muzzle appeared more pronounced. It wore strange clothes, a style that she had yet to encounter. It left an overall impression of exoticness. She nudged it with her foot. When it failed to respond, she kicked it over on its back, uncurling it somewhat so that both she and Gregory could have a better look. ¡°I-is that a¨C¡± Gregory started. Kate nodded. She was having difficulties looking away from the creature. Kate felt certain it might have been female. While difficult to tell on beasts, especially when they concealed their gender, Kate just had a feeling. She felt a compulsion to almost check. ¡°-a kunbeorn,¡± Kate finished for him. ¡°Is it¡­ dead?¡± Gregory asked. Kate shook her head. ¡°Not yet anyways.¡± ¡°But¡­ what¡¯s it doing out here? I think¨C¡± Gregory wet his lips ¡°-I think you should kill it, Kate.¡± The very idea repulsed Kate. ¡°No.¡± ¡°But we don¡¯t know why it¡¯s out here! It could be a trap. And it would be putting it out of its misery anyways.¡± ¡°Out of its misery, or out of yours?¡± Kate asked. ¡°W-what?¡± Gregory asked. Kate bit her tongue before she further alienated him. As if anyone that knew him could do so without knowing his feelings towards kunny. ¡°Nothing,¡± she said instead. ¡°But I¡¯m not¨C¡± ¡°Kate!¡± She cringed again. Janet and one of the sweord knights were closing in on them with their weapons drawn and their heads on swivels. ¡°What did I just get done telling you!¡± Janet scolded. ¡°I was doing what you said,¡± Kate half-lied. ¡°Nu-huh. No. You¡¯re supposed to sound the alarm if you find something¨C¡± Janet finally reached them and glanced down at the creature. ¡°Whose was it?¡± she asked. ¡°Oh crown,¡± Gregory swore. ¡°Is there somebody else out here?¡± ¡°Unless you think this thing came here by itself?¡± Janet made a circling hand signal to the other knight and he began climbing up the slope. ¡°It¨Cshe¡¯s wounded,¡± Kate said, correcting herself. ¡°Hm? How can you tell?¡± Janet asked. ¡°Battlesense,¡± Kate shrugged. ¡°Through i¨Cher shoulder and side.¡± ¡°All the more reason to figure out whose it is and where they are.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t see any wounds,¡± Gregory murmured. He was hanging back from the hundeor as if she would bite him. And while she had an impressive muzzle, Kate doubted the creature was in any condition to engage anyone, at all. ¡°Under her jacket,¡± Kate clarified. ¡°Clear,¡± the knight called from up on the rise. ¡°Nobody¡¯s up here.¡± ¡°Just my luck¨C¡± Janet groaned. ¡°What do we do?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°Kill it?¡± he finished just a bit too hopefully. ¡°Possibly,¡± Janet considered. ¡°What would the owner say though?¡± Kate said. ¡°And that¡¯s a point against culling,¡± Janet said as she pointed to Kate. ¡°But if it¡¯s wounded, then there¡¯s a threat nearby. Describe them.¡± ¡°They look strange,¡± Kate said, struggling to put what she sensed to words. ¡°The skin¡¯s blistered around what might be a line? It runs through her shoulder. The line¡¯s a bit more obvious on her side¡­¡± ¡°Godskissing luck,¡± Janet swore. ¡°What?¡± Kate asked. Though now that she looked at the wounds, thinking back, the blistering did seem a bit similar to Gregory¡¯s ill-advised anti-pickpocket device. ¡°Oh. A rad weapon?¡± ¡°From an arcbow.¡± Gregory¡¯s face paled. ¡°But those aren¡¯t sanctioned by the Crown.¡± ¡°Yep. Which means something a bit more organized that we¡¯re inclined to deal with.¡± Kate flapped her lips. ¡°We can take them.¡± ¡°Can we?¡± Janet said, her voice a bit colder than normal. ¡°Running off to that sort of battle, without even knowing who it is¡­ you¡¯re gonna stumble into a premature grave, Kate. You know I love you, but you need to grow some sense.¡± ¡°Pick the thing up. We¡¯ll head back to camp and raise the alert.¡± ¡°We¡¯re bringing it back?!¡± Gregory protested. ¡°This is somebody¡¯s property,¡± Janet said plainly. ¡°And it looks like it was well taken care of too.¡± ¡°Probably valuable,¡± Kate said, already bending down to lift the kunbeor up in a bridal carry. Kate could not help but notice the sweet scent coming up off the creature as she lifted. Her tail brushed Kate¡¯s arm, and it felt even softer than it looked, despite what must have been the grime. And even then, under the grime, Kate could see significant potential. ¡°Definitely handsome.¡± ¡°W-what?!¡± Gregory asked, probably from Kate¡¯s last comment. ¡°Just thinking out loud,¡± Kate answered, beginning to carry the creature back towards camp. Ingestion 1.4.X.2 As they returned to camp, Kate could not help but focus upon the far-too-light creature carried in her arms. Even when Janet ran ahead to set all the knights upon their surroundings, still, Kate gazed upon the creature, who Kate was increasingly certain was a female, thanks to Kate¡¯s sixth sense. In fact, if not for that very same sense, then Kate would have doubtlessly tripped on the way back. She was just that engrossed. That was how unusual the kunbeor seemed. At least, Kate thought the creature was a kunbeor since the creature wore clothes and had probably been trained. The creature also lacked the look of a pit-fighter¨Cfar too young and small and light. If not a kunbeor though, then definitely some kind of kunny. Just one unlike any Kate had ever seen before. The ears were longer and a bit sharper, the muzzle was a bit more pronounced, and instead of being uniform, the tail was broader at the bottom third before narrowing to a tip. Kate managed to work a hand around to the creature¡¯s face and cracked open one of the eyes: a bright and reflective cyan, from what Kate could see in the approaching firelight. ¡°Ugh,¡± Gregory sneered. ¡°You¡¯re touching it? Seriously?¡± Gregory said disdainfully, drawing Kate from her inspection. She felt a wave of irritation, but pushed it down. They had almost reached the camp anyways, and were just passing through the outer perimeter of circled wagons. ¡°Just curious,¡± Kate played off her inspection. ¡°Hey, you ever see a kunny like this?¡± Kate asked. Gregory scoffed, offended. ¡°You¡¯re asking me?¡± ¡°Oh¡­ that¡¯s right.¡± Kate said, pretending she had just remembered who had murdered Gregory¡¯s mother. ¡°Nevermind I asked.¡± ¡°Godslicking kunnies,¡± Gregory swore, sounding depressed and angry. At least he had stopped bothering her. Kate left him to his grumbling while she continued her inspection. The tips of the ears looked soft as felt cloth and were a bit lighter than the rest of the fur. Kate ran her fingers across it, pinching the skin and fur gently, stroking the ear, just a bit. She decided that she needed to perform a proper inspection to both treat the wounds and to get to know her new pet. And Kate had already decided that somehow, that she would have this kunbeor. Before Kate reached the firepit, she was intercepted by the caravan master and apprentice alchemist. Apparently Lieutenant Janet Muleater had come straight back to rouse the guards and had left the rest of the caravan in a state of confusion. Of course, everybody noticed knights fanning out to scout the perimeter. Given that the caravan was parked in the wastes, this generated not a small amount of concern. Which explained why Caravan Master Manny Stillson came wringing his cap between his hands with Charson on his heels. ¡°The knights are abuzz, Lady Guardson,¡± Stillson said. ¡°What¡¯s happening? Are we in danger?¡± Stillson grimaced and gave the alchemist some side eye. ¡°Is it¨C¡± he dropped his voice to a whisper, ¡°the wyrkwik?¡± The what? Kate thought. But before she asked just what those were, Charson had already butted in. ¡°You have already been told, Manny!¡± Charson protested. ¡°It¡¯s nothing to do with me. Probably bandits. How would any of those things reach this side of the chasm? Besides, the wyrkwik wouldn¡¯t have left that¨C¡± Charson nodded towards the creature held in Kate¡¯s arms ¡°-thing alive and uninfested.¡± ¡°Do we know that it isn¡¯t?¡± Stillson asked, backing a step away from Kate now that he recognized what she was caring. ¡°What¡­ what did you find?¡± he asked. ¡°We are unsure, Master Stillson,¡± Gregory answered on Kate¡¯s behalf. ¡°Isn¡¯t that right Kate?¡± Gregory nudged Kate, drawing her from the assessment she had been giving the creature. In the light, Kate saw the creature had the most peculiar lilac fur, lush and glossy. ¡°Hm?¡± Kate asked. ¡°Oh, right. We need to determine what threat we face. Is there a bench available?¡± ¡°But it¡¯s not infested, right?¡± Stillson asked nervously. Charson scoffed, ¡°you should know it isn¡¯t.¡± His lips curled into an arrogant smirk. ¡°But yeah, a bench?¡± Kate asked, getting the idiot men back on track. ¡°If I may ask for clarification, what for?¡± Stillson asked. ¡°You won¡¯t be vivisecting it, right?¡° The caravan master looked a little queasy at the mention of that. ¡°That happened once,¡± Charson said drolly. ¡°Once.¡± ¡°Yes, but my table was ruined,¡± Stillson said. Kate ignored the by-play between them. Because in the end, whatever those two got up to was their own business. What Kate wanted, no needed, was a space to examine the creature, the girl? The kunbeor. ¡°The table?¡± Kate pressed. ¡°Ah¨Cwell we should have one available in my administrative wagon. Let me just make sure it¡¯s cleaned up. Wouldn¡¯t want to stain it further¡­¡± Kate followed, but not before Charson leaned in to look over the kunbeor. Charson¡¯s sole visible eye was fixed upon the girl. ¡°What is that?¡± Charson asked. He reached up to the lens in his half-mask and flicked a toggle while looking over her. ¡°Certainly not a Kaivan variety I¡¯m familiar with.¡± ¡°Me either,¡± Kate shrugged, blowing past him and heading towards the covered wagon that Stillson had disappeared into. Inside, the caravan master was grumbling about the mess while looking for a clean space. Kate peeked around him, and saw that the wagon was absolutely stuffed to the brim and a cluttered mess. Absolutely packed with junk, some of it possibly rotten, and none of it appropriate to examine the kunbeor. ¡°Why do you need somewhere nice to set it down?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°Just use the ground by the fire.¡± ¡°Huh. That would work...¡± Kate had enough presence to question herself, and why she had at first insisted on a table. Why had Kate wanted to treat the creature like she would a human? It was just an animal, she had to remind herself. They lived in the dirt just fine. Discomfortable with the notion, but still following through, Kate found a clear spot near the firepit and set the kunbeor down flat on the ground. By that time, Janet had returned. ¡°Figure anything out yet?¡± Janet asked, stepping up and hovering over where Kate knelt. Upon seeing Janet, Charson interjected himself into the conversation. ¡°Lieutenant, what is this creature, and from where did it hail? I¡¯ve never seen one like it.¡± ¡°That is one of the questions we want answered,¡± Janet said. ¡°But it looks like my niece hasn¡¯t even examined its wounds yet.¡± ¡°Right,¡± Kate said, coughing away the embarrassment. Kneeling over the kunbeor, Kate began assessing the injuries, beginning with peeling off the jacket. It got caught on the kunbeor¡¯s skin where the wounds were, and there was nothing for it except to tug it off as gently as possible. As Kate peeled the sleeves off, the creature whimpered in its sleep. But as the sleeve came loose, Kate realized that this was no ordinary creature. Her eyes landed on the creature¡¯s forearms. ¡°She¡¯s marked?¡± Kate said, thinking out loud. ¡°W-what?!¡± Gregory yelped. Janet unsheathed her blade, moving like a viper, faster even than Kate could react, and held the tip against the creature¡¯s throat. ¡°Get a Seal!¡± she called out. ¡°Joel! Get me a godslicking Seal!¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t that a bit much?¡± Kate asked, watching the cold steel dimple the creature''s soft neck. The very tip nicked the flesh, causing a droplet of blood to form. ¡°An unknown marked creature of unclear motivations?¡± Janet said. ¡°No. If we didn¡¯t have Seals on hand, I would insist we kill it.¡± ¡°But¨C!¡± Kate began to protest, but it was Caravan Master Stillson that made a counter argument. ¡°Surely this kunbeor is worth much more than the risk of keeping her. The owners will likely reward us appropriately when their servant is returned. Even more so because of the markings.¡± ¡°My first duty is our safety,¡± Janet growled. ¡°Keep your profits out of it, merchant.¡± ¡°Is that not the purpose of this trip?¡± Stillson countered. Janet leveled a glare at him for just a second, before turning her attention back to the kunbeor. Kate had a feeling that she would have continued the discussion, but for the very same security concerns she was arguing for. Afterall, getting stuck in an argument was counter to situational awareness. Knight Joel Warson approached carrying a Seal. It was a specially made collar for constraining and limiting marked individuals. It was designed to prevent access to the ethereal realms and it disrupted most sacred arts. Personally, Kate found them distasteful, but so long as one never slipped around her neck, she could live with them existing. ¡°Lieutenant,¡± Warson said, holding out the Seal for inspection. ¡°Nevermind that,¡± Janet said. ¡°Hurry and put it on.¡± Warson nodded and began to lower himself to the creature¡¯s level where he would manhandle the collar around the creature¡¯s neck. A wave of revulsion hit Kate, though she failed to really identify the source. However, she knew something was intolerable, and rather than thinking about what, she blurted, ¡°I¡¯ll do it!¡± ¡°You know how?¡± Warson asked, raising his eyebrows in confusion. ¡°Just slip it on, right?¡± Kate asked. ¡°You¡¯ll need to verify the circuit¡¯s closed,¡± Warson explained. He glanced at the Lieutenant as though needing confirmation. ¡°Ugh, fine! Let her do it,¡± Janet said. ¡°So long as it¡¯s Sealed, I won''t spit.¡± Kate took the collar from Warson and slipped the collar open. The clasp was a simple catch, though the hinge was practically invisible. The collar was constructed of black metal and low silver. The geometric designs engraved upon it might have been enticing, if not for their effect. As it was, looking too long at the designs left Kate¡¯s stomach turning. Once the collar was opened, Warson directed, ¡°Make sure to remove the keyed pin.¡± He acted as though she had forgotten, or as though she were some rube. She knew how collars worked. ¡°Of course,¡± Kate snapped, her cheeks heating just a tad. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Along the hidden hinge there was a removable artificed pin, with a head of ruby and a needle of steel. It was the key to the lock. Once removed, the only way to open the collar would be to re-insert the pin. And of course, the pin was keyed. Even if someone provided a different pin of similar make, it would fail to work. Gregory had tried describing the ¡®entanglement¡¯ in the past, but none of them really mattered, nor the how, only the what. Once the pin was removed, she hung on to it, drawing as little attention to it as she could. She then put the collar around the kunbeor¡¯s neck. Kate¡¯s breath caught as she slipped her hands behind the neck and around the throat. The skin was so smooth and soft! Even with the fur. Almost like silk. The collar clicked into place. Kate felt that something had just been robbed from the world, and she disliked the sensation. Janet resheathed her sword. ¡°The pin?¡± she prompted Kate, holding out a hand. ¡°Hold on,¡± Kate said, pointing at the wounds visible on the creature¡¯s shoulder. The tunic bared her shoulders, leaving much visible. ¡°We need to treat these.¡± ¡°Which has no bearing on the key,¡± Janet said, wiggling her fingers. ¡°Hand it over. Now.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± Kate almost spat, dropping the artificed pin into Janet¡¯s calloused hand. ¡°But these wounds¡­¡± ¡°Are rotting, I believe,¡± Alchemist Charson interjected, peering over Kate¡¯s shoulder. ¡°In fact, it is surprising you can stand being so near that stench, Lady Guardson.¡± Kate paused. How had she not noticed that, she wondered. ¡°Yeah, but we gotta do something,¡± she said. She dug through her pockets until she found the strongest healing elixir she had brought, the one she reserved for emergencies, and the one she had bought with her own Chargers. Gregory muttered under his breath. If not for Kate¡¯s sixth sense, she would have failed to realize he was protesting. At least at first. When she uncorked it, he finally made his outburst audible. ¡°You cannot be serious!¡± he shouted. ¡°On a gods serving kunny?!¡± ¡°The lad¡¯s right,¡± Warson said, eyeing the elixir dubiously. ¡°That is quite the expense¡­¡± ¡°Worth it,¡± Kate said, as she slowly poured the vial into the kunbeor¡¯s mouth, past the delicate lips, the unnaturally white teeth, and long thin tongue. Kate shivered as she watched the creature¡¯s throat bob as she swallowed. ¡°May I see the vial?¡± Alchemist Charson asked. ¡°At least, if you¡¯ve no further use of it, Lady Guardson.¡± ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± Kate said absentmindedly, handing it over. The alchemist took it and held it up to his nose, sniffing it, before dabbing his finger inside and tasting it. ¡°A high ranked healing potion. Though I would still expect it to fail against such severe wounds.¡± ¡°What rank?¡± Warson asked. Janet was hanging back a bit, and when Warson asked that, Janet perked up. ¡°Silver,¡± Charson answered. ¡°At the least.¡± Kate began to feel a tad bit uncomfortable, especially with how Janet was not focusing on her. Surprisingly, the next outburst came from Gregory instead. ¡°Silver!¡± Gregory shouted. ¡°You barely gave me a copper when I needed it! Why in the Crown¡¯s name would you¨C¡± Kate had to think back to what Gregory was referring to. But eventually, she remembered. He had been burned when his his anti-pickpocket device that misfired. He had complained about it non-stop for the rest of the day, like a little child with a smashed finger. It was pathetic. He was pathetic. So Kate cut him off. ¡°-it worked, didn¡¯t it?¡± Kate sneered at him, feeling a wave of hostility at being challenged. ¡°Besides. You were welcome to use your own potion when you were the one to injure yourself. And your little owie wasn¡¯t even that bad.¡± Janet coughed. ¡°As interesting as this spat is, I do have a question for my niece.¡± Kate winced and tried to avoid Janet¡¯s eyes, instead watching the creature begin to heal. The blistered flesh oozed heartily, dripping yellow puss out and down onto the ground. It must have been getting squeezed out, Kate thought. She was glad the elixir had worked, since it had cost quite a bit. ¡­Which must have been the same thing Janet was thinking. ¡°How did you afford the elixir?¡± Janet asked. ¡°Does it matter, Lieutenant?¡± the caravan master asked, sounding both hesitant and curious. He seemed like he would have wanted to ask a different question. Like maybe, ¡®do you have much left in the way of spending capital?¡¯ ¡°This does not concern you, merchant.¡± Janet¡¯s voice had gravel mixed in. ¡°But it does matter. It matters if Lady Guardson used my or her mother¡¯s budget.¡± ¡°Yeah, but no,¡± Kate answered, somewhat relieved that the conversation was moving away from that. ¡°It was with my own funds. Nothing taken from the knights.¡± ¡°Uh-huh.¡± Janet crossed her arms and looked up at Kate with incredulousness. ¡°And how¡¯d you manage to afford that?¡± Kate grimaced, already expecting the response, but she decided she might as well just come out and say it. Cowardice never suited her particularly well. ¡°Prize money,¡± Kate answered bluntly. ¡°What?!¡± Janet shouted. ¡°When? Where? Don¡¯t tell me it was¨C¡± Charson spoke over the top of Janet. ¡°Lieutenant. Lady Guardson. Look.¡± He pointed at the creature. The hole in the creature¡¯s shoulder was finishing sealing. Charson handed a handkerchief to Kate. ¡°If you would?¡± Kate looked at the silk cloth for a moment in confusion. Charson mimed a rubbing motion. Kate got it. She cleaned off the site of the wound from the brackish pus that had been ejected. The fur was a bit discolored, but the skin underneath looked pure and mostly unblemished. ¡°Amazing,¡± Charson said. ¡°That elixir should not have worked. But it did. I must know why.¡± Charson nearly pushed Kate aside as he reached in with a sharp looking tool that he had seemingly procured from nowhere. Naturally, Kate protested. ¡°Hey!¡± ¡°A simple probe,¡± Charson said. ¡°No reason for alarm.¡± ¡°No,¡± Kate flew back with. ¡°I think there¡¯s plenty of reason for alarm. What do you think you¡¯re doing?!¡± ¡°Simply determining how this creature has regenerated so quickly,¡± Charson said absentmindedly as he pressed a thick needle into the healed area. ¡°And taking a biopsy for later.¡± ¡°That¡¯s¨Cyou¡¯re¨Cugh.¡± Kate wanted to protest further, but she bit down on her tongue instead. She knew it would not end well if she did. It was not as if she, Ser Kate Guardson, would argue against learning more about a potential curiosity, especially not when it came so cheaply. Except¡­ there was another angle she could pursue. ¡°Don¡¯t damage somebody else¡¯s property.¡± ¡°This is hardly permanently damaging,¡± Charson answered smoothly, all the while pulling another tool from his belt. This one was disturbingly hooked, with some manner of sensor at the tip. ¡°Odd,¡± Warson said, looking at Kate apprehensively. ¡°What?¡± Kate asked. He shook his head slowly, ¡°I would have expected you to be eagerly scouting for fights. And not mothering this creature.¡± ¡°He¡¯s got a point,¡± Janet said. ¡°You sure you¡¯re feeling alright? Did the creature do something?¡± ¡°She was in a bad way when I found her,¡± Kate said. ¡°So I doubt it.¡± ¡°Walk me through what happened¡­¡± Janet said. While Kate talked, Warson continued standing guard over the kunbeor while Kate walked Janet through an abridged version of the night¡¯s events. Meanwhile, Gregory was talking shop with Charson, and the caravan master was ordering drivers about to make ready in case of an assault. Apparently the first order of business, if attacked, would be to secure the cargo. In the end, Janet looked dubious. She said that she hated that there was an unknown entity operating in the vicinity, and that the caravan now had a responsibility to hold a potential threat. A potentially very expensive threat. Fortunately Janet had moved on from the idea of simply executing the creature. Especially after Kate had spent her silver ranked elixir. ¡°...we need to have its marks appraised,¡± Janet concluded. ¡°We have no way of knowing what it¡¯s capable of, or what it might have done to you, even while supposedly unconscious.¡± ¡°Right,¡± Kate said with a nod. ¡°So, we¡¯re keeping her right? Since we¡¯ll need to have her assessed later and all¡­¡± she added weakly, as she noticed Janet staring at her with a dumbfounded expression. ¡°About that, Lady Guardson,¡± the caravan master said, having apparently been waiting for just that opportunity. He had a folder of papers in hand, which he gesticulated with. ¡°Salvage rights belong to the caravan on this journey. If the property goes unclaimed after we make notice of discovering it, I think by sixty days at the nearest provost in Bath, then by the Crown¡¯s law, and by the contracts you signed, the kunbeor would belong to me.¡± Kate¡¯s face felt numb for a fraction of a second, but she managed to bluster through her discomfort. ¡°Yeah, but that¡¯s only if she goes unclaimed. And looking at those marks? Her owners have to be searching high and low for her. Or their next of kin, if they were ambushed.¡± ¡°We still need to interrogate it to find out who attacked it,¡± Janet pointed out. ¡°The subject is currently recovering and is unable to respond,¡± Charson said. ¡°How long until it wakes up?¡± Warson asked. Charson shrugged helplessly. ¡°I have insufficient knowledge to determine that.¡± ¡°Perfect,¡± Janet said in a deadpan. ¡°Just perfect.¡± ¡°What are we going to do with her until then?¡± Kate asked, already thinking of how the creature would look cleaned up, and wondering if she could start to see what sort of training it had been given. Since the kunbeor clearly came from a place of wealth, there was really no telling what all the kunbeor had been taught. ¡°We are transporting several others of its ilk,¡± the caravan master pointed out. ¡°Simply put her with them.¡± Kate scowled. ¡°Put her¡­ with them? It¡¯s a night and day difference.¡± ¡°But the asset would be secured there,¡± Warson said. ¡°And I still find your aberrant behavior dubious.¡± Kate scowled even harder. Janet clapped her hands. ¡°Right! Night¡¯s not getting any younger. Warson! Get it stripped and locked down with the others. Work with the caravan master if you run into any sorta difficulties.¡± ¡°I can do it!¡± Kate volunteered. Janet paused and exchanged a wary look with Warson. ¡°Really?¡± Janet asked. ¡°Yeah,¡± Kate said quickly. ¡°I feel responsible, since I found her and all.¡± ¡°Alright¡­¡± Janet said slowly. ¡°But Warson will stick around nearby, just in case.¡± ¡°Won¡¯t be necessary, but thanks,¡± Kate said. Stillson went to leave, and Charson intercepted the caravan master to speak in hushed tones on the other side of the campfire. Gregory stuck around, and Kate got to processing the creature. Which in this case, meant that Kate began prying the rest of the kunbeor¡¯s clothing off. The strange tunic was simply cut off. It had been worn by the creature¡¯s travailles, and scarcely concealed anything anyways. It was nothing incredible, except for the strange lilac colored fur, and the lushness of it, despite the travel stains. Still, Kate disliked that Gregory and Warson were there as well. A portion of Kate wanted the creature all for herself. But she supposed her options in this case were limited. It was either Kate stripping the kunbeor as they watched, or Kate let Warson do it all on his own. And the thought of Warson with his grubby hands all over the kunbeor left Kate feeling slightly ill. As Kate went, she took an unofficial inventory of the kunbeor¡¯s possessions, starting with the knife. It was unique. A make that Kate was not personally familiar with. Which was strange, since Kate was familiar with most sorts of knives. It was curious. As Kate worked, Gregory butted in. ¡°What are you doing?¡± Gregory asked, sounding miffed. ¡°Why¡¯re you stripping it?¡± Kate thought he was probably still jealous over the healing potions. But Kate could hardly be blamed for his fragility. So she decided to ignore him, focusing on the girl instead. It was Warson that took time to answer. ¡°We¡¯re doing this for several reasons. One, we must ensure the creature does not have any contraband that could defeat its containment.¡± Speaking of those types of devices, Kate had already found the lockpicks in the creature¡¯s jacket, though Kate had avoided bringing that up. But given how well they were made, Kate would not be surprised if the kunbeor had been trained in subterfuge and thievery. Whoever her masters¨Cprevious masters¨Cwere, Kate thought they must have been interesting. Warson continued explaining, ¡°Two, the creature¡¯s fur is sufficient, and training it to rely on clothes wrecks its robustness. And three, none of the others are currently wearing any. It might brew dissent and lead to a violent situation amongst its peers.¡± Kate slipped the creature¡¯s pants down and Kate¡¯s breath hitched. It was amazing just how human-like it seemed in that regard, even with the velvet soft fur and great fluffy tail. Warson cleared his throat. Kate¡¯s cheeks burned. She realized she had stopped part way, with the pants around the knees, and Kate finished, before picking the kunbeor up. ¡°Right, so where are we putting her?¡± Kate asked. She already knew, but she had hoped the answer might have changed. That she might have been able to keep the creature for a night or two. Unfortunately, the answer remained the same. ¡°With the rest,¡± Warson said with a sigh. ¡°Right.¡± Kate grimaced. Still, that was in line with what she had been expecting. She made her way over to the special transport wagon that Warson had been referring to. And of course, Gregory followed along like the follower that he was. The wagon had a solid wooden roof to keep the elements out, and bars around the rest of it. It was large enough to contain quite a bit, but instead it had been limited to a cargo of three, at least on this trip. The floor was littered with straw and worse, and it stank of musk and urine. There were three kunnies already in there. Siblings, allegedly, from the same litter. They were likely destined for the arena in Bath, but maybe not. Kate thought it was a waste to ship fighters all the way up when there were so many others ready to fight in any large city. But whatever. Warson verified that all the collars were connected to chains, and then unlocked the back gate with a borrowed key. ¡°Slide it in there,¡± he nodded. Kate ignored the looks for the kunnies as she set the kunbeor down as gently as she could on the filthy floor and pushed her in, until she was within range of the others. Kate exchanged a glare with one of the cats. ¡°If you hurt her, I¡¯ll take it out of your hide,¡± Kate threatened. The cat chuffed. ¡°This one is not the one who should cause worry¡­¡± The cat crouched forward as far as the chain would allow, and she looked over the girl with an increasingly bewildered expression. The cat added, ¡°grom where is this kitten brought?¡± ¡°I was hoping you would know,¡± Warson said, before shaking himself. ¡°No matter. Call out immediately if she awakes. There will be extra jerky for you if you do so.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± the cat said in a tone that left Kate¡¯s skin crawling. As Kate left, she kept within earshot. She needed to figure out a way to secure the girl as her own. And how would she explain it to her mom when she brought a pet home¡­ Ingestion 1.5.1 SEALED Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Weakness and torpor. A chill running through me. My neck constrained by a rigid weight. Prickles running across my scalp, across the base of my ears. My head resting upon soft warmth. My skull pounding, a pressure behind the skull. It was the points of hard contact trailing through my scalp that drew me up from the reverie. ¡°So the kitten awakes,¡± a soft and feminine voice purred. I cracked my eyes and found green cat eyes hovering over me. They reflected what little light there was in a primitive sheen. Those eyes were embedded in an orange and gray face, similar to the cat person I had met in the bandit¡¯s slave pen. Though this female appeared older, judging by the fur on her chin. Startled, I jerked upwards, or tried to. My body barely responded. But, but I did not feel overly cold, nor was I shivering. I wished I knew more of wilderness survival. I could not remember the symptoms of hypothermia or shock, but the last I could remember, death was imminent. And now I woke up with my head resting on a strange woman¡¯s lap. Was I still sick? Disoriented, but trying to make sense of my surroundings, I asked, ¡°my fever?¡± ¡°Is broken,¡± she said. ¡°Though the smell of rot remains heavy, it appears the worst has passed. Small thanks to the humans.¡± Humans. My eyes widened and my ears perked up. There were two others nearby, both feline humanoids. They rested to either side of the woman addressing me. One of the men chuffed, but remained stoically silent. The other was looking outwards and asked, ¡°should not these ones call the child warrior?¡± The female hissed, ¡°not yet. It is unsure what the human¡¯s motivations are.¡± ¡°Do not tarry long, sister,¡± the male said. ¡°Their punishments are swift.¡± As they were speaking, I noticed a few perplexities. Ones that dumbfounded me. Ones that left a sinking, horrid sensation like a rapidly growing pit in my stomach. Without realizing, my breath came short. There were bars. The woman who had been caressing me wore a collar, similar to the slaves I had seen previously. There were bars. A stiff uncomfortable weight constricted my neck. There were bars all around me and I was collared and there was too much wind on my body and¨C ¡°Kitten.¡± The female¡¯s voice, an almost tender growl, pulled me out from the spiral. It failed to ameliorate the situation, but the blossoming panic attack abated, if slightly. But still, I had to confirm. Slowly, hesitantly, fearfully, I reached my right hand towards my neck, where my fingers brushed against thick metal. A collar. I had been collared. Not only that, but I had been caged. And as my right hand traced upwards, I confirmed another fear with my left. My skin, my fur, had been exposed. I had been stripped of gear and clothes. ¡°They¨C¡± I started, but could not fathom just what they had done, nor why. A hole existed in my memories, several of them. I remembered an animated plant carrying me. Or I thought I did. It could have easily been a fever dream. I remembered sighting the road, coming down the hillside, tripping, falling, hurting. And then I awoke here. Collared. In a cage. ¡°They¡­¡± ¡°Did this, yes.¡± The female began grooming my head once more, trailing her claws gently along my scalp. It sent pleasant shivers down my spine, into my tail, and melted my tension away. It was also concerning, in a way, that contact like this caused me to drop my guard so easily. But it had been so long since I had felt a friendly person, been near enough to touch, that I thought my weakness might have been excusable. ¡°But¡­ why?¡± I managed to ask. It was the male that answered, spittingly. ¡°Because Qari.¡± I failed to recognize that word. I tilted my head slightly, still on the female¡¯s lap getting pet. ¡°This means the humans are an enigma.¡± The until then silent brother coughed wetly, but then added in a weak voice, ¡°Qari spent too long in holes and lost both honor and wisdom. Fools!¡± he spat, before grumbling to clear his throat. ¡°Rest, brother. Please rest. Recover your strength,¡± the female chided. ¡°Kissen is right,¡± the healthier brother said, referring to the sister. The sister¡¯s name must have been Kissen, unless I was mistaking a different pronoun for sister. It seemed like her name. ¡°To survive these ones will need to win. Unless the warrior child can be convinced to spend another elixir.¡± Elixir? I wondered. My lips did taste reminiscent of grape cough syrup, and my left side felt remarkably uninjured. This world already had magic, so why not potions as well? But if the humans had given me an elixir, why would they then imprison me like an animal? To protect their investments, perhaps. But what did they intend for me? More importantly, how could I use this to my advantage? If they were already willing to expend resources, then my bargaining potential was greater than naught. I felt the felines¡¯ attention settle upon me. ¡°What business did these Qari have with this one?¡± Kissen asked, now rubbing behind my ear. My leg threatened to twitch. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not sure. What happened?¡± I asked, revealing as little as possible, except that I had been unconscious. ¡°The humans found and brought one that was sick and wounded. After the girl-child warrior healed those injuries with alchemics, this one¨C¡± Kissen placed a hand on my forehead to ensure I knew who she was speaking of ¡°-was stripped, collared, and placed here under our protection.¡± That was a surprisingly detailed answer. ¡°What should be discussed are these,¡± Kissen tapped my forearm where my tattoos were on display. ¡°Why defile your body?¡± Defile? A bit of a strong term, I thought. But it said a lot about the feline race that they felt this way. Not wishing to alienate potential allies, especially not ones within melee range that had claws, I sought sympathy. ¡°I¡­ I am unsure,¡± I said. ¡°And why speak the Qari tongue?¡± The healthy brother asked. Without realizing it, I had been using the same language that the humans had, as it seemed structured in a more comprehensible manner. But recalling our conversation, the felines had been speaking in the exotic sibyllic language. ¡°Shh, Larissen,¡± Kissen hushed her brother with a slight reprimand. ¡°This one suspects a stolen kit and foulness. There are rumors of their arts.¡± You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. If I followed correctly, she thought I had been stolen as a child by the humans and been¡­ experimented on? What these foul arts were was a mystery still. But I could infer their unpleasantness, and they could have explained some of the differences the felines had observed. Larissen, the healthy brother, scoffed. ¡°All the more reason to reject all the Qari have. If understanding Kaivan is possible, then Kaivan should be spoken.¡± I winced. I could speak their tongue, but it would come across as jarring, both to myself and them. But still, I would try. Appeasing them in such a simple thing could buy goodwill cheaply. ¡°Understand, yes,¡± I spoke haltingly. ¡°But speaking, difficult.¡± Larissen gave a slight growl but then turned his attention back towards where human voices were emanating from. It appeared, giving the slight orange glow on the top of the caged wagon, that a fire was in that direction as well. The humans likely sat around a firepit while I had been left to rot in a cage. If not for the soothing received from Kissen, I likely would have attempted an escape. Or to have drawn the humans¡¯ attention to request answers. ¡°Do not overly stress yourself for our ears,¡± Kissen said. ¡°Kaivan is a practice learned with time. Though while hopefully not too difficult, but understandable if answering this is, this one wonders how you received these markings, and from what land birthed your tribe.¡± Humorous. I also, wished to know the answers to those questions. Mostly. I know what land birthed my body, but it was not this one. And as for who marked me? I was willing to gamble that it was the very same who that brought me here and dumped me on this forsaken piece of rock. But these were not details that I could share. Well, I could. But doing so may reveal more than I wished. I lacked the context of these people to understand significance, and until I had that understanding, I refused to risk revealing more than I should. So to answer Kissen, despite the fact that it would cost me goodwill, I shrugged, as though to convey either a difficulty speaking, or a helplessness. While I hoped the gesture appeared vague, unfortunately, it did not work as intended. ¡°The little kitten wishes to keep her secrets,¡± Larissen remarked. Kissen bared her teeth a fraction while looking at him. From my angle, it appeared menacing, though not directed at me. ¡°All are entitled them.¡± ¡°Unless the secrets cost these ones,¡± Larissen replied a bit hotly. ¡°And do her secrets weigh against these ones?¡± Kissen asked, a growl in her throat to issue warning. All the while, I wondered how they knew I kept secrets. That had not been my intention to communicate, which meant I had failed to communicate appropriately. Of course I was keeping secrets, but I did not expect them to jump straight to that particular interpretation. ¡°When her Qari masters come? And when our presences are entwined? Then yes!¡± Larissen hiss-shouted. Kissen made a sound remarkably similar to a yowl and she took the hand she had been tracing through my scalp and used those very same claws to swipe at Larissen¡¯s shoulder. Larissen spat, his hair standing up. ¡°Knock it¨C¡± the sick brother coughed up a disgusting bit of mucous ¡°-off. Draw ire of¨C¡± he coughed again. Larissen froze just as he began to retaliate. Kissen¡¯s eyes widened and her ears flattened. ¡°Not over,¡± Larissen hissed. ¡°No, it is not.¡± Kissen agreed. ¡°But for the sake of our brother¨C¡± I was unsure what sort of concilliations the two siblings had been near, as a girl shouted as she approached. ¡°What gives?! You¡¯re supposed to call when she woke up!¡± The girl, a human, a teenager, she carried a long sword at her hip as she stomped towards our prison wagon. She was tall. Her hair a pale blonde, and her skin had an almost bluish tint. In the dark, I could not gather many details. I needed to know more before I interacted with her, especially if she meant to interrogate me, which seemed the most likely outcome. ¡°Who is this?¡± I asked under my breath in Kaivan. ¡°A girl child warrior,¡± Kissen said. ¡°The one that gave an elixir and brought kitten here.¡± ¡°The one that collared¨C¡± I started to ask for confirmation, raising my voice slightly in outrage. I knew it would only hurt my position, but some emotions could not be fully constrained. ¡°Speak Imperial!¡± the girl demanded, apparently disliking our private conversation. Which also informed me that the girl likely failed to comprehend the Kaivan tongue. It would prove an advantage later. But currently, there was no reason to test the girl¡¯s patience. For it seemed she had little. But then, after a moment¡¯s consideration, her eyes met my own, and her face softened, at least by a fraction. ¡°Unless you don¡¯t know it?¡± She turned to Kissen, her hand on the pommel of her sword, as though she readied herself for violence. ¡°You! Kunny! Does she know Imperial?¡± Kissen glanced down at me. Her hands had returned to my head, petting my cheeks and chin. She gave me an raised eyebrow, as thought expecting an inclination from me. I wondered if she were willing to lie for me. I considered letting her. But then I would have to follow through with the communication barriers, and gaining sympathy from the humans would be much more difficult. So I answered. ¡°I¨CI do.¡± I affected weakness in my voice. ¡°A-are you the one that found me?¡± I attempted to look pitiful, which was not difficult under the circumstances. As I shifted, I recalled that I was in the nude. And as the girl¡¯s eyes wandered over me, I felt incredibly exposed, uncomfortable. I pulled my tail around to cover my nethers, but I could do little for my¨Cfor my chest. A twinge of dysmorphia came. I ignored it the best I could. While I spoke, I heard Kissen whisper under her breath, ¡°do not trust.¡± I appreciated the advice, but that was not a problem I would likely ever have. The girl glanced towards my tail, and her free hand twitched slightly. Were I not attentive to detail, I would have missed it. But she almost made a grabbing motion. An idea slowly began to dawn upon me, a suspicion. And if true, then several options opened up. But I would need to learn more later. For now, I had to establish a favorable position with my captor, and all without alienating my fellow prisoners. ¡°Yep!¡± the girl said boisterously, thrusting her chest out slightly, her legs spread shoulderwidth apart. ¡°I healed you too. I¡¯ve gotta say, I¡¯ve never seen anything like you.¡± Anyone, I wanted to correct. But doing so would hurt relations. If that were not a priority, then I would ask why she had put a mothersworn collar on me and shoved me inside a cage! ¡°T-thank you,¡± I said instead, squashing most of the welling anger. And I was thankful, at least partially. ¡°You saved my life. May I know your name?¡± ¡°Sir Kate Guardson.¡± Unusual, but I gathered that the ¡®sir¡¯ term was gender neutral so for as I could tell, and instead stood in as an identifier of a warrior aristocrat. ¡°And yeah, I did save you. It took a pretty expensive elixir to do it too.¡± I was about to thank her again for doing so, but then she had to go and add, ¡°you basically belong to me now.¡± ¡°What?¡± My voice came out in a high pitched whine in a knee jerk reaction. I scolded myself and wrestled my incredulity back under my self control where it belonged. ¡°I don¡¯t mean it in a bad way!¡± Kate said, ¡°Besides, whoever owned you last barely took care of you¡­ by the way, who did?¡± she asked in a difficult to pin tone, but one that sounded akin to poorly wrapped disgust. There was also another part of what she said of note, and I thought a simple inquiry would not go amiss. ¡°Did?¡± I asked. She used a past tense. But if she thought I were property¡­ then why past tense? ¡°Yeah, did.¡± She scowled at me. ¡°And if you or someone else tries saying otherwise¡­¡± she trailed off while rolling her shoulders and cracking her neck. The threat was implicit. Either this girl was remarkably confident, or insane. Potentially both, which would be a troublesome combination. ¡°So anyways, I got questions.¡± I had questions as well, but I doubted she could answer them, even were I to risk asking them. ¡°Kate!¡± a boy¡¯s voice called out. ¡°Where are you?¡± The girl had the slighted grimace, one laced with irritation. ¡°There you are!¡± He said, finally reaching the prison wagon. He stopped just a short distance away. ¡°What¡¯re¡­ you?¡± he glanced over at me, and his mouth snapped shut. He scowled. ¡°Oh.¡± ¡°What is it, Gregory?¡± Kate asked. ¡°I thought you would have been asleep by now. Instead you went waking up half the camp.¡± ¡°I couldn¡¯t sleep,¡± he shrugged. ¡°Were you trying to talk to it?¡± he asked. It? Not a small amount of fury was felt. ¡°Her,¡± Kate corrected. ¡°And yes. We still need to find out who hit her, unless you forgot.¡± ¡°Oh, I remember,¡± he said dubiously. ¡°I¡¯m just surprised you¡¯re bothering with conversation. Aren¡¯t kunny too dumb for that?¡± A part of me strongly desired to protest. A part of me longed to destroy this boy. But, no. This was an opportunity. In fact, this child¡¯s assault upon my character could be seen as a boon. ¡°S-sir Kate,¡± I mumbled softly, drawing both their gazes. The boy with annoyance, the girl with something else. ¡°A-am I¡­ dumb?¡± I asked hesitantly. ¡°Pffsht,¡± she blew air out and waved her hand, ¡°No, course not. Obviously you¡¯re different. And if somebody would open their eyes they¡¯d see that. But no, that would be too much to ask from a blind¨C¡± ¡°Oh, I need to open my eyes?¡± the boy snapped. ¡°I¡¯m not the one trying to have a midnight discussion with an animal!¡± he finished in an angry hiss. Kate glared at him, her mouth a tight and thin line. Before she could respond, a third voice joined the fray. ¡°Both of you ought to be asleep,¡± a man said. He wore some nature of thick clothing, possibly canvas, died black with red accents. Similar to Kate, he had a sword. But he also had what looked like a collapsable crossbow. It would not surprise me to learn his jacket was armored. ¡°I¡¯m keeping watch,¡± Kate explained. Gregory snorted in disbelief. ¡°I¡¯ll keep watch,¡± the man said. ¡°You go to bed. ¡°Yeah, but¨C¡± Kate started to protest. ¡°-Lieutenant''s orders. Take it up with your aunt.¡± Ingestion 1.5.2.1 Sir Kate huffed, stomped, and stormed off to presumably find her Aunt, while Gregory chased after her offering poor consolations. To me, it was clear that Gregory wanted Kate. It was also clear that Kate, at least at that time, did not return those affections. While I might not know where I learned to read human body language, it was plain as day, akin to reading a book¡­ in English. But after the two of them left, the soldier called Warson remained behind. At first, he watched them leave. He appeared concerned. More for Kate than Gregory, at least judging by the minute angle of his chin. Being able to understand a portion of my surroundings again filled me with some relief, despite the temporary awful circumstances I found myself in. I felt confident I could escape, or gain my release from these humans. Already I had begun laying plans for my escape, even as grogginess once more fought to bring me back under. Before I slipped off to slumber, Warson turned his attention back towards me. His expression was a mixture of curiosity and concern. He acted from a wary place of confidence. He likely considered me a caged threat. Which, technically, I was. The fact that he held suspicions would make my plans more difficult. The fact that his expressions were so easily read made manipulating him simpler. In the end, I would need to proceed with caution. I held my peace, allowing him to break the silence. ¡°I have questions,¡± he said. ¡°It will be in your best interest to answer truthfully. If you are compelled to offer a deceit, remain silent. Do you understand these directions?¡± He asked and waited. His tone incredibly serious. I pondered for a second what he meant by compelled, but in the end, decided to play a cooperative role, at least so far as it cost me little. ¡°Do you understand?¡± he asked once more, growing slightly impatient and tapping his belt with a finger. I nodded. ¡°Verbally respond, for confirmation,¡± he said. An unusual request, unless there were a recording system in place. But that level of technology did not seem apparent¨Cexcept for the strange artificed devices. Curious. And concerning. ¡°I-I understand,¡± I answered, allowing some of my fear to come through, acting slightly more timidly. I watched his expressions carefully. They remained unaffected for the most part, but some of the tension in his cheeks decreased, if by a minutest amount. ¡°Good,¡± he said, tapping a gleaming piece of metal on his belt. Originally I had thought it a simple rivet, but it was off-center, and failed to match the surrounding divots in the leather. If there was a device, then that could be it. Unless it was a false flag, meant to subvert my attention. ¡°First, answer this simple question. Have you been given a name?¡± he asked, watching me intently. This was no simple question. Had I been given a name? I supposed I had, though it was not here. And the follow up he could proceed with could reveal several items I would rather keep private, such as the fact this was not my original world. I could not expect that revelation to do me any favors. But I had to answer something, and truthfully at that. ¡°Yes,¡± I said. Because I had been given a name. He nodded, tapping the device in his belt twice more. ¡°How many names have you been given?¡± What is his obsession with names? I wondered. I thought that perhaps there was a cultural significance here that I was missing. Up until that point, the three Kaivan had remained wary and silent. But Kissen, likely reading my ears, or feeling the tension along my scalp and lower back, interjected, ¡°This confuses the kitten,¡± she said. Warson narrowed his eyes at Kissen. ¡°Remain silent,¡± he commanded. She chuffed, and I sensed a great amount of ill will in that single exhale. But she agreed, albeit slowly. Her claws running through my scalp seemed to have sharpened though, and the feeling rode the border between pain and pleasure. Warson turned back towards me. ¡°Now then. How many names?¡± ¡°One?¡± I answered. ¡°You are unsure?¡± Warson asked, frowning. I nodded. ¡°Verbally,¡± he commanded. ¡°Yes, I am unsure.¡± ¡°Very well. Who provided you with your last name?¡± he asked. ¡°And I remind you, answer truthfully or not at all.¡± I wish I knew why that was the case. Why truthful or not at all? I understood he would not wish to be deceived, but why provide the option of silence, and what would it entail in terms of consequences? There was much I lacked knowledge on, and I decided to avoid risking the unknown unless forced to. ¡°My mother,¡± I said, barely avoiding the shiver of disgust that I felt. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. He frowned slightly. ¡°This was the last person to provide you a name?¡± I almost nodded. ¡°I-I believe so. W-who else would have?¡± ¡°The human wants your owner¡¯s name¡± Kissen rumbled under her breath. I hardly heard her. Were her mouth not right above my ears, I likely would have missed it. Even so, Warson¡¯s lip curled up into an almost snarl. ¡°You will not be warned again,¡± he said. Kissen winced, but otherwise made no further movements. I was glad that she had explained. I had failed to realize that this world employed blatant slavery. I had known the bandits did, that the outlaws did, but I had hoped that was the extent of it. I had hoped it was like back home, where slavery was kept hidden and out of sight. But from what I have seen so far, that might not be the case. Especially if the guard assumed I had an owner. This would become a dangerous issue. While I thought this through, a silence stretched out. Finally, Warson¡¯s face softened slightly, as though moving past the issue with Kissen. He said, ¡°But, correct all the same. First though, what is your name?¡± he asked me. This was a question I could answer. Except, doing so might reveal more than I wished. For instance, if my name were unusual for the locale. I earnestly desired to test the assumption that Warson could detect deceit. If I knew the answer to that, then I could play a much stronger hand. As it was, I had to answer, as I had already revealed I had a name. But I could remain silent. He would assume I was compelled to withhold my name. Unless he lied when he explained his ¡®truth or silence,¡¯ ideal¡­ however; why would I assume he had been telling the truth? My head hurt from wrestling all the unknowns. It was a simple question, and it deserved a simple answer. I would just use a nick-name that fit in. There was a Gregory, and a Kate, so there probably could be a Jackie. I hoped. ¡°Jackie.¡± Larissen, the healthier Kaivan brother, inhaled through his teeth. I was unsure why. Kissen had tensed a little as well. Warson narrowed his eyes. ¡°And you said your mother gave you this name?¡± I winced. I needed to deflect. If this military organization assumed I was a slave, then that would mean they assumed I had an owner. If I had an owner, then they would be obligated to find and return me to them. Assuming this operation was legal. Assuming the legal system enforced property laws in that way. A triple assumption led to an incredibly shaky foundation, but it was all I had. The alternative being the truth, and the truth likely generating more interest than I could afford. Fortunately, as I sought a solution, a solution presented itself. ¡°T-that¡¯s what mother made me c-call her,¡± I said. Shamefully, that stutter had only been half forced. From what I could recall of the woman, I would really rather not recall her at all. I shuddered, and Kissen patted my head. Warson watched me, ran his tongue over his teeth, then finally nodded. ¡°What was her name?¡± he asked. I shook my head. I could not remember. And even if I did, I doubted I would say. ¡°Verbally.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said. He scoffed but let that angle drop. ¡°Where she resides?¡± In relation to this world? I wanted to laugh, with a tinge of hysteria. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± He almost growled, but after running his finger over his belt, he let it drop. Instead, he caught me off guard by completely changing tactics. ¡°Do you have Sacred Art?¡± he asked. I frowned at him, letting my confusion show. I thought I knew what he was asking, but I could not be certain, and this seemed an easy way to dig for more data. He breathed out heavily, then almost, almost, gave a rueful smile before explaining. ¡°Markings, Glyphs, Sigils, internalized dynamic artificing that grows, changes, or otherwise affects the body or world.¡± ¡°Like these?¡± I asked, tapping my currently non-injured left arm. ¡°Just so,¡± he said. ¡°Where did you get them?¡± I winced. I would have loved to known the answer to that question. After a length of silence, he followed up, ¡°You cannot say, or you do not know?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I confirmed. He harrumphed. ¡°Fine. Do you at least know what they do?¡± he asked. If I answered, then he would ask what those abilities were. If he knew my abilities, my kit, then my future chances of escape would decrease, and I might find myself employed to someone else¡¯s plot as a disposable asset. Especially if they considered me property. Especially if they knew my predispositions. In this case, I really only had two options. Silence. Or almost the truth. ¡°I¡¯m not exactly sure,¡± I said. While I understood what some of my abilities did, there were several I did not. Such as Obsession. Warson frowned. ¡°That¡­ that cannot be the truth.¡± He paused some more, tapping his belt again. Eventually, he shook his head. ¡°What are your Glyphs?¡± he asked. This time, I remained silent. His face hardened. Whatever sympathy I had endeared was rapidly spent and burnt on this, but I had no choice, not really. After a few moments, he asked, ¡°Did you charm Sir Kate?¡± Now that, that caught me off guard. ¡°N-no? What does that mean?¡± I asked. I genuinely was unsure. Did he mean in the sense of etiquette? Because something told me he did not. He scoffed and shook his head. ¡°Recover your health. The Lieutenant will talk with you on the morrow.¡± And he spun and left, though I doubted he went far enough that he could not overhear me if I did decide to talk with my fellow prisoners. After some time, sleep was almost upon me. My eyes heavy. The sky, dark. My body still recovering. I felt thirst, but there was naught to drink. I hungered, but naught to eat. Unless I were to turn to cannibalism, which I refused. Especially as my fellow prisoners were still alive. It was as I nearly slept, that Larissen asked, ¡°What foul human stole you?¡± ¡°Hmm?¡± I responded, barely paying attention. ¡°Your name. And the human that made you call mother. Disgusting. All could see your revulsion upon speaking of this Qari. Does this person still live?¡± he asked. I shook my head slowly, ¡°No,¡± I whispered. ¡°No she does not.¡± Ingestion 1.5.2.2 That night, despite my weariness, slumber came poorly. I had given it a valiant effort. And while I would have rather dug out more information regarding my disfavorable circumstances, or the way of the world, when I had tried asking questions, Kissen insisted that I rest. It was not as though she had to argue it much, for I truly was exhausted. Whatever healing I had received, that on top of my journey, had left my bones weary. My skin felt loose and my legs soft, and not soft in the good way. That, and the emotional strain of having been stripped¨C That and the emotional strain, had left me quite fatigued. So I tried sleeping. I really did. With my head in Kissen¡¯s lap, with her fingers tickling my scalp, I attempted it. Valiantly. And I failed. It grew frustrating. It was not until Kissen began humming a melodic lullaby that I began to drift off. Somehow, her voice harmonized with the wind through the bars of the cage and I found it easier to ignore the sounds of the camp, easier to ignore everything. I drifted off and dreamt of tropical jungles. Perhaps I had other dreams as well, though if so, I did not remember them. When I awoke, it was near dawn, and the camp was beginning to break. Though that all fell to the wayside as I realized that all three Kaiva were staring at me. I blinked the last of the sleep from my eyes, rubbed the sides of my face with the palms of my hands, and stared back in what I imagined to be an owlish fashion. ¡°In what language were your dreams?¡± Kissen finally asked. ¡°Hm?¡± I hummed cautiously. Was she able to look into my dreams? I thought not. That would be a bit of a stretch, even for magic. Though I still knew next to nothing on how magic worked in the first place, so it might not be outside the realm of possibility. ¡°These ones heard your mumbles from your sleep,¡± Kissen clarified. It was still somewhat difficult for me to parse the Kaivan language, and it was not getting easier except through exposure. I wondered where my natural language comprehension had gone. Normally, only exposure had been required to ¡®magically¡¯ understand a language. Granted, it usually came with a migraine. But still, I should have had an easier time understanding and speaking the dialect. The only difference I could think of to account for the delay was the collar. So many questions. In a way, I was fortunate I had been exposed to Kaivan earlier, in the Red Queen¡¯s facility. Though the dialect spoken by that feline humanoid differed slightly from the one spoken by the three I shared a cage with. ¡°What did these mumbles sound like?¡± I asked. As I now knew several languages, I could not be certain which they referred to, though I had my suspicions. ¡°It was too different for these ones to remember,¡± Kissen explained. ¡°But it was not a language recognized, and these ones have traveled far.¡± The only other two languages, besides Kaivan and the ones the humans spoke, was Hundeor, and English. Since I would have no reason to dream in Hundeor, it must have been English. Of course, admitting that would be dangerous. So instead, I fell back on deceit. ¡°This one cannot say.¡± I answered in Kaivan, butchering their language a bit more than necessary, to help draw attention away from the partial lie. Unfortunately, the diversion failed. ¡°As is unsure?¡± Larissen pressed. My ears laid flat in frustration. Why would they press? Surely people talked in their sleep, and surely it was largely babble. Had I said something particularly revealing? While I wondered how to avoid answering, Kissen must have detected my frustration, for she answered for my sake. ¡°Your questions bother the young one, brother.¡± Kissen glared at him. ¡°Surely her tribulations are heavy enough without our added weight.¡± Larissen scoffed, sounding anything but convinced. However, he let the matter drop. I could not let Kissen¡¯s favor go unappreciated. Good behavior must be encouraged, after all. ¡°Thank you,¡± I told her, and I meant it. Answering questions around my origin were the last thing I had on my mind. ¡°But I¨Cthis one¨Chave questions,¡± I said. The human language slipped in while I tried keeping in Kaivan. But the structure of their language just felt strange. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°Then ask,¡± Kissen murmured. I took some time to figure out the best way to ask these questions of mine. For questions could reveal much about the person asking, and I would avoid revealing too much. If anything, I would avoid revealing anything at all. I decided to begin somewhere obvious, where I would not expose anything that eyes could not already determine. ¡°What am¨Cis this one?¡± I asked, sweeping over my body with a hand to ensure they got the point. ¡°I have not encountered any like me,¡± I broke my attempt at Kaivan. ¡°Nor my brothers,¡± Kissen said. ¡°That is a question that will likely be asked by others as well.¡± ¡°Not Kaivan¨C¡± the sick one said in a scratchy and weak voice ¡°-but maybe further south? A hidden tribe?¡± ¡°Could it be that the priests and emperors would allow such exotic beauty to go unclaimed?¡± Larissen said. The fact he called me beautiful was jarring for many reasons, and left me feeling incredibly uncomfortable and ill at ease. I shifted marginally to get away from him, though not much space was available to do so. It was the thought that counted. ¡°No, this one thinks not,¡± Kissen said. ¡°So where then?¡± ¡°Qari,¡± Larissen spat. ¡°Look at her marks. It had to be the humans.¡± Kissen and the sick one murmured in agreement. There was much that I was missing. And this provided the perfect in-road to the next topic, and perhaps one of the greatest ones. ¡°Why? What are these marks?¡± I asked. Because while I could infer much regarding the markings, there was still plenty I lacked. Such as how they worked, why they changed, how that change was affected by my actions, by my surroundings, and what limitations they might have. Such as if they served as a tracker for a malign entity. ¡°Stolen arts,¡± Kissen said, almost in a growl. ¡°Abominations,¡± Larissen spat at the same time. The sick brother meant to say something as well, likely to that same effect, but he broke out into a fit of coughing instead. Kissen leaned over and patted him on the back. ¡°From where did the humans steal them?¡± I asked, trying to fit in as much as possible to build rapport and empathy. ¡°From the Great Spirits of the earth,¡± Kissen said. ¡°And what do these marks do?¡± I asked, avoiding the entire topic of religious origins. While the origins likely affected culture, I had no interest in sparking a debate at the time. Besides, I had more practical interests. ¡°Depends on the spirit robbed, on the defiler¡¯s skill, on the stone crushed and inked¡­ almost always the marks enhance. This is how the humans have prevailed thus far against the Kaiva.¡± There was both pride and a hint of admiration in Kissen¡¯s voice, although not nearly enough to overcome the loathing that was plain. And that loathing I could understand. I tapped my collar. ¡°What of this?¡± She hissed but hesitated from immediately answering. ¡°A seal¨C¡± the sick one said ¡°-on your marks. Weakens¨C¡± he coughed. ¡°Rest brother!¡± Kissen scolded. ¡°Sister is right,¡± Larissen added, concern evident. Both siblings must have cared deeply for the sick one. It was nice to see that family dynamic. I had a sister too. ¡°If that is so,¡± I said after a pause, ¡°then why do you three also have collars?¡± Again, I used a pidgin speak. Kaivan was anything but easy to wrap my head around. ¡°These are not the same,¡± Kissen said. ¡°These are plain steel. Yours is artificed. Ours restrain through force, despite our strength. Yours restrains through force and soul.¡± Again, there was that hint of religion or spirituality peeking its way in. And again, I wanted nothing to do with the uncomfortable topic. The only thing left to learn, as they had little to truly offer in the way of explaining my marks or collar, was in the specifics of our confinement. Or of the broader world. There was fortunately an easy way to broach the subject. Especially as a proper introduction was never done. By that point in time, light had begun to leak through the overcast skies, and I could see all three Kaivan much better. I decided to examine them a bit more closely. The action would fit in well for my cover of having never encountered true Kaivans before. All four of us were in the nude, with the exception of the collars and our fur. And there were many similarities. Enough so, that I almost considered myself one of them, at least in body. Our feet were clawed, with four toes to the front, and a fifth hooking near where our ankles were. And our ankles had a strange almost second joint to them. It made running as a quadruped possible, as well as standing and walking like a proper humanoid. Our legs were shorter as well, or perhaps it was the rest of us that was taller. Each of us had a tail. Though theirs were straight and of consistent width, mine flared widely at the top third. The difference could be explained by fur alone. Unfortunately, as we were all in the nude, genitalia were exposed. This was the worst of it. I did not know how the brothers handled the shame. At least Kissen and I had fur to cover most of it. I could pretend I wore a bodysuit of fur. It helped ease the discomfort. So far as sexual dimorphism went, the genitalia were the only obvious tells. In humans, one of the greatest tells was typically the breasts. This had been one of the worst things about my new body. One of the worst, glaring differences. And it appeared it was a trait I shared with the Kaivan as well. Six nipples. Ugh. Even the thought of it disgusted me. I hated it. Loathed it. But there it was. Six of them. No breasts. I felt the urge to vomit. In regards to the differences, they seemed mostly superficial: their claws were sharper than mine; their muzzle shorter and flatter than mine; their ears smaller and more triangular than mine; their whiskers more pronounced than mine. The most obvious difference was also the most superficial of all: our fur color. Theirs was a tawny gold and brown and mine a deep lilac. Kissen at some point became aware that I was staring, and she chuffed in amusement. ¡°Drink your fill, Kitten?¡± she asked. ¡°Sorry,¡± I said, feigning embarrassment. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ I¨Cthis one¨Chas never really had a chance to see other Kaivan before.¡± I lumped myself into the same group as theirs, at least while I was with them. Larissen tensed up slightly though, while Kissen chuffed. ¡°Perhaps, perhaps. That remains to be discovered, but discovered it will be. In the meantime, what further questions are on your mind?¡± ¡°You! Cat!¡± a boisterous voice interrupted us. ¡°You were to let her rest! I didn¡¯t give you permission to talk with her!¡± Sir Kate. What a ridiculous girl, I thought. Ingestion 1.5.3 ¡°You! Cat!¡± Sir Kate interrupted us with a boisterous voice. ¡°You were to let her rest! I didn¡¯t give you permission to talk with her!¡± Rather than fight or protest the accusation, Kissen surprised me by swallowing her ego and making a strategic decision.¡° Forgive,¡± Kissen spoke quickly, lowering her eyes and bowing her head slightly. Kate scoffed, paused, then took a deep breath, as though reminding herself of something, though I could only guess as to what. She then glanced around in an obviously suspicious manner. If there had been anyone watching, they certainly would have begun paying attention after seeing that poor attempt at duplicity. ¡°Last night, I realized something as I nodded off.¡± Kate was now staring at me. She bit her lower lip and her eyes took a hungry cast. She continued. ¡°I never gave you a name.¡± I was taken aback. She claimed to have never received my name, I surely thought. There must have been a custom of sharing a name and receiving a name in turn. At the back of my mind, I hesitated to fully believe that. I ignored the small voice that told me names were only exchanged among equals. And as she had already given me her name last night, I perhaps spoke out of turn, and perhaps, it was done deliberately. ¡°Jackie,¡± I offered. ¡°What?¡± she asked, her eyes narrowing in what could have been considered suspicion. ¡°No, that¡¯s not¡­ what?¡± she asked again. ¡°That¡¯s my name,¡± I said quickly. I then remembered to act deferentially, and went heavily as to make up for my earlier forthrightness. ¡°Y-you gave me yours last night, but I never got to¨C¡± ¡°No, that¡¯s not it¡­ I didn¡¯t give you that¨C¡± she shook her head, confused. ¡°Who gave you that name? Was it Charson? I knew that godsloving cunt would try¨C¡± she shook herself and cut herself off before glancing around once more, likely to verify none had overheard her insulting a ranking member of the caravan. ¡°The furless intends for your slave-name,¡± Kissen spoke, now in a heavily accented version of the human¡¯s tongue, what I had learned was called Imperial. Kissen again surprised me, now by speaking out of turn, throwing Kate a line to help pull Kate out from her confusion. I thought there might have been several reasons for Kissen doing so, namely to endear herself to Kate, or to prevent Kate from lashing out in anger. ¡°Yes, that.¡± Kate nodded. She did not appear appreciative of Kissen¡¯s interjection, though Kate did ignore how Kissen had spoke out of turn. ¡°Who gave it to you?¡± ¡°I-I went through this y-yesterday with Warson,¡± I said, faking weakness to allow Kate a false sense of dominance. If my read on her was correct, then that would endear myself to her further, and thereby increase my odds of a favorable outcome. ¡°My name was given by a human named m-mother¡­¡± I stumbled over the last word by accident, but it helped sell my story, not that I was speaking a lie by the strictest of definitions. ¡°But nobody here at camp?¡± Kate asked, relaxing her shoulders. I had not realized they had tensed up. I castigated myself. I needed to remain vigilant and avoid missing such cues. ¡°Nobody.¡± ¡°Then I shall name you,¡± she said, eagerly watching me, weighing me. Unfortunately, when she said that, I cringed. It was an automatic reflex, and one that I was unable to stop in time. Which she saw. ¡°You don¡¯t approve?¡± she asked, sounding slightly shocked. ¡°You don¡¯t want me for your master?¡± her voice grew in volume and anger as she spoke, though she never shouted, and her anger could have fallen somewhere in the range of irritation. It was still a dangerous territory for me to be in, especially with how I was at her mercy. ¡°I-it¡¯s not that!¡± I protested. ¡°B-but¡­¡± ¡°Then but what,¡± she said, almost sneering, definitely scowling. ¡°I like my name,¡± I said softly. She scoffed. ¡°And that matters?¡± she said, almost by reflex. Once the words were out of her mouth, she deflated a marginal amount, closed her eyes, and centered her breathing. ¡°If I may offer a suggestion?¡± I asked, cringing slightly at the thought of further endangering myself, but refusing to abandon one of the few things I remembered of my identity. She exhaled through her nose before answering, ¡°What?¡± ¡°T-that¡¯s my preferred name, but not the full one that m-mother gave.¡± ¡°Your previous owner accepted your nickname?¡± she asked. Thankfully, she was already aware of the concept. I shook my head. ¡°Interesting,¡± she nodded slightly, as though accepting an idea she just had. ¡°What was your given name then? In full.¡± ¡°Jackylyn,¡± I answered. I had always hated the name in its fullness, largely because of who gave it to me. ¡°Very well,¡± Kate said with grandiosity. ¡°Then I shall name you Jackie. You¡¯re welcome.¡± I almost rolled my eyes. My initial assumption concerning Kate was that she was egotistical and impatient to a ridiculous degree, and her ¡®favor¡¯ towards me was doing little to change my mind. But still, I would not bite a hand that might feed me. At least not yet. And not for something so trivial. So I thanked her. ¡°Now tell me of this last owner,¡± Kate said, changing subjects. ¡°Particularly, where to find her.¡± She rolled her neck and cracked her knuckles, leaving little in the way of doubt towards what she meant to do once she found this ¡®owner.¡¯ I shook my head. I could not truly answer this without giving away more than I could. I just hoped she would keep a level head in regards to the denial. ¡°Why not?¡± she asked. ¡°Under a geas?¡± Her face had pinched, and her pale blue eyes reminded me of cascading glaciers crashing down on hapless victims. ¡°Of what nature.¡± ¡°I¨CI cannot say,¡± I said. She hummed, almost growled. ¡°Does she still stake a claim over you?¡± she asked. I doubted it, for several reasons. But before I answered, Kate revised her question. ¡°Will she contest my claim?¡± Kate asked more forcefully. ¡°Claim?¡± I asked, repeating the question, and feeling more of that dread creeping up from the pit of my stomach. ¡°Of you.¡± I almost gagged. I did, a little. Bile hit the back of my throat, and I turned the involuntary reflex into a helpless shrug while I swallowed it all back down. ¡°Helpful,¡± Kate said sarcastically. ¡°Well, no matter. I¡¯ll deal with any and all. Now tell me of you. What¡¯s your breed. What sacred arts do you have, and what do they enhance?¡± What followed was a lengthy session that repeated largely what I told Warson. Kate seemed dissatisfied at the lack of information in my answers, but I defaulted to pretending that I was under a geas when silence was required. Thus far, I had yet to inform anyone I had the power of Illusions, not that they worked with the mothersworn slave collar on. When she finished her litany of questions, I asked one of my own. ¡°What will happen to me?¡± I asked. Depending on the answer, I might try gaining different accommodations, or at the very least, my clothes back. Being nude and on display, even with my fur, was not a comfortable experience, not comfortable at all. ¡°You¡¯ll come with me, of course.¡± The way she said it carried no doubt whatsoever. She was supremely confident. Outrageously so. ¡°Of course, you¡¯ll do whatever it is kunbeor normally do. In addition to your duties to me. And spar. It would not do for you to embarrass me.¡± As she spoke, I could not help but notice she had been salivating slightly. It was a labor to avoid squirming beneath her attention. I wanted to ask so many questions. But the opportunity was lost as we were interrupted by a laborer. ¡°Ah, ¡­ is good merc is here,¡± the man said with an accent I struggled to parse. ¡°Walk the kun...¡± Kate wrinkled her nose in distaste. ¡°I¡¯m not a merc.¡± ¡°... is what I said,¡± the man replied. ¡°But you watch, ¡­?¡± ¡°Fine, yes. Do her first,¡± she pointed at me. The man looked at me dubiously. ¡°... is safe?¡± ¡°Course it¡¯s safe!¡± Kate said with exasperation. ¡°I¡¯m here, aren¡¯t I?¡± ¡°Yes, yes. Good.¡± the man muttered while fishing for a key dangling from his pocket by a chain. I watched his hands carefully while he fumbled for it. The key appeared normal, without any of the technology this world relied on, although I could never be certain. The man¡¯s hands were thick and calloused while stained with grime and worse. His fingernails were grotesque. And once I focused on him, I could smell the fecal matter and stale beer. But finally, he opened the gate. The three Kaivan shifted in preparation. I was still unsure what was happening. Kate moved around to the back of the prison wagon, near the man and the gate. I noticed that she scrunched her nose while examining the man as well, and she kept a few steps from him. ¡°You¨C¡± he pointed at me, then pointed at the ground outside the cage. ¡°Down.¡± Was he, was he commanding me like a dog?! I thought in outrage. Kissen patted my shoulder and murmured, ¡°This is your only chance for relief this morning. It is better to listen and comply, despite the shame.¡± It was also a chance to escape. I could try running for it. But, with the collar on, I felt weak. My body was slow to respond. And a quick experiment and a mouthed, ¡°Illusion,¡± proved that all my powers were offline. So while I could run for it, I doubted I would get far. But what a failed escape attempt would accomplish: increased restrictions and scrutiny. So I chose to comply. Unlike the three siblings, I had never been leashed to the back of the wagon. Which meant I was free to get up, well, sit up more accurately. The cage on the prison wagon was not tall enough to stand. I crawled to the exit. As I sat on the edge and slipped off, back onto the ground, on wobbly legs, the gross man breathed on me as he snapped the end of a cord to my collar. The cord was several yards long, and looked to be braided with metal. It occurred to me belatedly, that I had been leashed. Where had the man even pulled the leash out of, and when? I scanned my surroundings quickly and found some cabinets on the underside of the wagon. Likely, it had been stored there. I wondered what else was stored there as well. Outside the prison wagon, standing there in front of the disgusting male and the leering Kate, nude, with the wind bristling through my fur, I could not help but feel exposed and helpless and I despised it. But my only recourse was to play the game and win my freedom. Along with whatever supplies I could requisition on my way out. Likely with the Kaiva. I wondered if they would lead me back to their people, and if that civilization would act more¡­ civilized. A question for later. I felt a tug at my neck. ¡°Come,¡± the man said, yanking on the leash again. ¡°Hey, easy,¡± Kate snapped. She grabbed the leash from the man and pushed him aside. ¡°I¡¯ll walk her. You take care of the others. Or whatever.¡± The man brushed himself off and glowered. Kate stared at him and raised an eyebrow, almost as a dare. He shook his head and turned back to the prison wagon, searching through a cabinet beneath it. He muttered about ¡®crazy mercs,¡¯ which I was sure that Kate also heard. However, she let it pass, instead leading me away from the wagon. It was humiliating, following after her, with a slack leash kept between us. I wanted to claw her throat. I wanted to claw my own throat. I repressed everything. I would get through this. I would survive. I would escape. I would kill¨Cno. I repressed it all. I stood as proud as I could, I refused to cower, and I followed along after Kate while focusing on what I could. As we walked, I watched the perimeter. I watched the guards, these so-called knights. I memorized faces and wagons. I found weak points. I saw valuables. I might have figured out where my tools were stored, though that was only a guess. What I failed to find was the means to escape my collar, though I hoped one would turn up. We were headed beyond the circled wagons, and beyond where the knights watched. We were heading far enough away that I was having second thoughts about my refusal to escape. But there would be no way that Kate would leave herself vulnerable if there was not some way to protect herself. And yet, there she was, with her back turned to me. Was this a sign of her arrogance? Could I risk it? It was tempting. But I needed to be sure, first. And it was not as though I could just ask her. I would need to be subtle. ¡°W-where are we headed?¡± I asked. ¡°A-and why?¡± Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Walking,¡± she said with no nonsense, though I thought I heard a tint of humor. ¡°They do it for all the kunny to keep them fit for wherever they go.¡± ¡°And me?¡± I asked, momentarily forgetting to act meek. ¡°Like godswant will I let you languish in that cage with the rest of them. You should be with me, not¨C¡± she growled and shook her head. ¡°-whatever. I¡¯ll figure it out. You need to piss or something?¡± ¡°Wha¨C ?¡± I asked, mouth agape. ¡°You know, make water, or whatever.¡± She was speaking so casually, even though it was so incredibly¡­ demeaning. ¡°You got the parts for it.¡± ¡°Tha¨C¡± I started sputtering before getting myself under control. ¡°Is there cover?¡± I asked. ¡°Latrines?¡± I said, hopefully. ¡°Nah, just go over there¨C¡± she pointed at a spot a few yards away, still in range of the leash. ¡°At least turn your back?¡± I asked hesitantly. She snorted, amused. ¡°Sure. Not like it matters with my battle sense¡­¡± she said under her breath. If not for my enhanced hearing, I surely would have missed it. Despite the demeaning situation, I encountered another problem. Since I had arrived on this world, in this body, I had yet to actually need the restroom. I had not made water, nor¡­ less savory waste. My body was unique in that regard. And I felt, should that uniqueness become apparent to these humans, that my situation would deteriorate in some way. And so, I took this opportunity to fake it. I squatted down and made the motions, while trying to make a ¡®psh¡¯ sound, to some success. It was not as though I had a surplus of options. It was embarrassing, so, so embarrassing. After I stood back up, Kate turned around smirking. ¡°That was something,¡± she said. Did she know? I wondered. My cheeks heated up and I felt absolutely ridiculous. ¡°I haven¡¯t eaten or drunk anything lately,¡± I offered as a lame excuse. Though come to think of it, I was thirsty and ravenous, more so than before this mothersworn collar had gone on. ¡°Let¡¯s fix that then,¡± she said, nodding. ¡°Can¡¯t have my pet starving.¡± To my credit, that time I hardly cringed at all. Kate led us back to the prison wagon soon after. As we passed the perimeter, we were intercepted by Warson and Lieutenant Muleater. Warson carried himself rigidly with a worried expression on his face. The Lieutenant appeared upset, judging by the slightly red hue to her otherwise brown complexion. ¡°You were ordered to keep away from it!¡± Muleater said scathingly. I wilted away from both her and Warson, hiding as much as I could behind Kate. Kate meanwhile, stood undeterred and nonchalantly, though from her shoulders I could tell the nonchalance was more feigned than anything. Still, her acting was good. ¡°I don¡¯t remember anyone ordering me to do that.¡± ¡°Warson told you to¨C¡± ¡°-he told me to go to bed, and that you would want to discuss it with me today. Nobody said nothing about avoiding her. And this kunbeor is a her. And her name is Jackie.¡± Muleater¡¯s mouth twisted and her eyes narrowed. She glanced back to Warson, who shook his head with a shrug. ¡°That was the name the kunbeor gave me last night. It appears that no damage was done so far; the seal remains intact.¡± ¡°Of course there¡¯s not any damage!¡± Kate protested. ¡°What did you guys even think would happen?¡± ¡°We don¡¯t know what would happen,¡± Muleater said, calming down slightly, though still stressed. ¡°There is too many questions unanswered, and I am suspicious of this¨Ckunbeor¨Cthis Jackie¨Cthat just so happened to fall into our laps! People don¡¯t just leave bags of C lying around Kate. You¡¯re smarter than this. I know you are.¡± ¡°Yeah, I am smarter than this,¡± Kate said, seeming to miss part of Muleater¡¯s point. ¡°I see a kunbeor that is valuable and unclaimed, one that is sealed and unable to hurt me. The only thing we need to worry about is whoever the cunts were that shot her. Which is what you should be asking her about.¡± Muleater growled and spat on the ground. ¡°Fine. You¡¯re right. Get the kunbeor back in the cage and I¡¯ll come by after my godslovin¡¯ coffee.¡± The man was just finishing shoving the sick Kaiva back into the cage, while his siblings strained to reach him and help ease him back into place. ¡°--so lazy!¡± the man grunted, finally pushing the Kaivan in. He clapped his hands and went around, grabbing the leash and tying it to a hook well out of reach of the cage. ¡°... about done, just¡­¡± he continued on with his thick accent, one I still struggled to parse. I missed the ability to quickly learn and speak languages, even if it came with a headache. Though, I doubted this man in particular had anything of value to say. ¡°... , there!¡± he said as he saw Kate and then me. ¡°... up in there¡­ !¡± Kate scoffed, but helped me up into the cage. With the collar weakening me, and with my hunger, I was not too proud to accept her helping hand while climbing in. Once I was in, the man grabbed my leash and hooked it along with the rest, before I could protest. It looked like Kate thought about it, but in the end she declined. Instead, she said, ¡°Get her fed and watered. I need to take care of myself, but I¡¯ll be back. You better not skimp either.¡± ¡°Yes, yes.¡± The man bobbed. Once Kate turned around, he spat on the ground and swore under his breath. I noticed that Kate¡¯s hand tightened on the hilt of her sword and her stride had a slight susurration, but in the end she chose to ignore it and keep walking away. ¡°I feed your ¡­ pet ¡­¡± he grumbled while rummaging under the cart. He came back with a trough that was thin enough to slide between the slats of the cage. He dumped water and chunks of dried something into the same trough, letting it mix with the grime and the dirt, which he then placed before us. The water, the grime, the mystery chunks, all mixing together. I eyed it and winced. He then stomped off, still complaining. Kissen helped her sick brother eat, while Larissen looked at me and chuffed in amusement. ¡°Disgusting, these ones agree. But it is all that is given, and to starve is to die. Eat and survive, pup.¡± As though to emphasize his point, Larissen speared a mystery chunk, now sopping wet, with a claw and then bit into it. It smelled gamey and fragrant, but in a dusty and sour sort of way. And despite the nastiness of the meal, Larissen was right, and my stomach agreed. I was starving. The food¨Cthe soup¨Cwas all I had. I was not too proud to die from starvation, not when the food was right here in front of me. So I dug in and tried to ignore the taste, and the maggot I found squirming in the mystery meat. *** Some time later, after a meal that both left me ill and fed, Muleater returned, followed by Kate. Muleater smiled as she rapped the hilt of her rapier against the cage, letting out a reverberation that ensured we were all awake, despite the fact none of us had been resting, except the sick one. All of our ears twitched and flattened against the assault; Kissen and Larissen scowled at the noise, but what could they realistically do to act out against the humans? ¡°I¡¯ve got questions,¡± she said. ¡°And you¡¯ve got answers.¡± Kate came around from behind and stood beside Muleater, crossing her arms. Muleater glanced at her niece before scoffing. ¡°You¡¯ll be sticking around then?¡± Muleater asked sardonically. ¡°I¡¯m here to make sure you don¡¯t hurt what¡¯s mine,¡± Kate said, standing firm. ¡°Awfully presumptive, but alright. Let¡¯s get started,¡± Muleater said with a grin. It sounded as though she was going to add more but then thought better of it. Instead, she went with, ¡°Introductions then. My name is Lieutenant Janet Muleater. This is my niece, Sir Katherine Guardson.¡± This felt dangerous. I almost would have rather gone back to the previous treatment. But I had to push forward. Though I made sure to sound particularly pathetic. ¡°M-my name i-is Jackie,¡± I said. From the corner of my eye, I saw Kate nod and smile at me, as though I were a dog that had just performed a trick. Perhaps that was exactly as she thought. ¡°I understand my niece named you?¡± she asked. Dangerous. While I had already given my name as Jackie prior to being ¡®named¡¯ Jackie by Kate, depending on how I answered could embarrass Kate, which would bode poorly for me. But, I could not be caught out in a lie, not so soon. Better for them to think deceit was the farthest thing from me. ¡°Yes Lieutenant,¡± I answered. ¡°Your full name was Jacklyn, but you go by Jackie?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I said, nodding my head slowly. My suspicion was mounting that Muleater was deploying a social engineering technique, or perhaps several of them. ¡°And the others? You, cat¨C¡± she pointed at Kissen ¡°-you seem chummy with Jackie here. What is your name?¡± More names! What was it with these people and names? If Kissen was wondering the same, she never voiced her doubts. Instead, she answered: ¡°This one is named Kissen, Huntress and Stalker of the Ziggurat Wardens.¡± ¡°Do you know where your owners are sending you, Kissen?¡± Muleater asked. I wondered if this interrogation technique might have worked better had we all been separated first. Though I supposed that would have been difficult under the conditions. And perhaps the humans thought it unnecessary. ¡°Perhaps,¡± Kissen said. ¡°This one believes for fighting.¡± ¡°From the invoice, it looks like you¡¯ll be sent to farm for cores¨C¡± ¡°-Lucky,¡± Kate muttered under her voice. Muleater narrowed her eyes but never called Kate on it. ¡°-does that sound right, Kissen?¡± ¡°Perhaps, yes.¡± ¡°Good. You¡¯ve met Jackie before today?¡± ¡°Y-no?¡± Kissen said, sounding confused. ¡°You have?¡± ¡°N-no, have not. Why say this?¡± ¡°Of course I only had to check. You other two?¡± The two brothers shook their heads in denial, though the sick one punctuated his with a raspy cough. ¡°Unfortunate,¡± Muleater said, watching the sick one, before turning her attention back to Kissen. ¡°Are you familiar with other beastborn that appear as Jackie does?¡± ¡°No, this one is not,¡± Kissen confessed, which was more or less what she had told me earlier. ¡°Nor my brothers are familiar. These ones suspected¡­¡± ¡°Humans?¡± Muleater asked with a wry tone, an amused smirk. ¡°Yes, please forgive.¡± Kissen said, though she smelled rebellious while sounding the opposite. It was an interesting juxtaposition, and I suspected my scent came across similarly. ¡°Perhaps some alchemist somewhere. Certainly Alchemist Charson seemed interested enough. But there are those marks of Jackie¡¯s¨Cany idea what they do?¡± she asked Kissen. Kissen shook her head, ears flat and hair raised. Apparently she disliked the manipulation as well. It did seem a bit heavy handed, if even the Kaiva could pick up on it. ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± Muleater pressed. She watched Kissen intently, almost radiating an invisible force. It grew difficult to think an my mind felt fuzzy. ¡°You never met Jackylyn previously? You have no knowledge as to her abilities or owner?¡± Kissen pushed back against the force, swallowing and issuing a yowl. ¡°First a lack of trust, then a flood of questions. This one is uncertain to your motives. Ask and trust, or do not ask at all.¡± The pressure stopped just as quickly as it came, and left Muleater chuckling as she shook her head. ¡°Well then, thank you for your cooperation.¡± She focused back on me. ¡° ¡°You have Sacred Art. From who? Who Marked you?¡± Muleater asked plainly. I stammered, struggled to answer. I knew this question would be coming, but I had no good option. Everything I could say would result poorly. I could try lying, but I bet that Muleater had a way to weed through those. The only thing I knew for certain was that I could not tell the entire truth. When I took too long thinking, Muleater gave an exasperated growl, ¡°Those glyphs on your arms! Who gave them to you?¡± I shrugged helplessly. I wanted to say ¡®geas,¡¯ but if she could detect lies then that would go very poorly. The only way I could play this was for Muleater to assume that. Which meant I had to continue playing helpless. The pressure came back, and began amping upwards. The rest of the world began to obscure itself behind a nonexistent haze, and all I could focus on was Muleater¡¯s lips and her voice and her eyes that seemed to be weighing into me. ¡°Who.¡± Muleater commanded. ¡°...I-I d-d-¡± I stammered, just barely keeping myself from answering, but it was like climbing a greased rope. It just wanted to slip its way out, taking all of my concentration to keep it in. The pressure grew, breathing was now difficult. My chest pressed in. My heart pounded in my ears. ¡°D-don-n-¡± It was coming out! No! A part of me screamed, but it fell on a mute mind. Would it not just be better to give in? The truth certainly could never harm me¡­ ¡°Janet!¡± Kate scolded, echoing from nowhere. ¡°Stop!¡± And just like that, the pressure stopped. I gasped for breath. I could see again. I felt Kissen patting my back, tracing patterns in my fur. She was humming so slightly that I thought I was imagining the sound. Meanwhile, Kate was glaring at Muleater, face pink, hands on the hip. Muleater appeared indifferent to Kate¡¯s attitude and kept going. ¡°Hm. Looks like Warson might have been right,¡± Muleater said. ¡°Very well. Where did you receive your wounds?¡± ¡°F-from¨C¡± I started answering, but found it difficult to even speak. I had to wet my mouth before trying again. ¡°Bandits,¡± I answered much more clearly, though my voice still had an unflattering croak to it. ¡°That¡¯s something at least,¡± Muleater said. ¡°Can you tell me which ones?¡± she added. ¡°Do you know which group they were, who their boss was?¡± ¡°The Red Queen,¡± I said, fully willing to give the bandit leader up to the knights. While I might have considered myself a thief, and while I would ordinarily never reveal another criminal¡¯s secrets, I made an exception for slavers. And besides, the Red Queen¡¯s servants had shot me. When Muleater heard the name, she froze for a moment, while Kate whispered what sounded a lot like an excited, ¡°Score!¡± ¡°Gods!¡± Muleater snapped out of it, swearing loudly. ¡°That scum?!¡± She breathed a few times, getting herself back under control. Meanwhile, Kate laughed. ¡°A bit of an overreaction, yeah? Just some trumped up bandits. We¡¯ll knock ¡®em down no problem.¡± ¡°Niece,¡± Muleater said deliberately and slowly. ¡°I mean this with all possible love. But you don¡¯t know anything about this group. Bandits are bad news. Especially those ones¡­¡± Kate scowled at Muleater, which Muleater returned full power. In the end, Kate gave in. ¡°Fine¡­ but we do run into them, then I¡¯ll prove you wrong.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± Muleater said. She turned back to me, emanating a slight pressure. ¡°How far away did you encounter them?¡± I shook my head helplessly, ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ I was pretty out of it. I had a map somewhere though,, in my bag. If you bring it to me, I could point it out.¡± ¡°Did you remember seeing a bag?¡± Muleater asked Kate. Kate shook her head. ¡°No, just those odd clothes, high quality lock picks, and that strange knife.¡± ¡°Looks like you misplaced it then,¡± Muleater told me. ¡°Why can¡¯t you say how far away they are?¡± ¡°I had a fever¡­ it had been days. They shot me and I ran and got sick¡­ I was hallucinating badly by the time I arrived here.¡± Muleater growled and shook her head. But by this time, camp had finished breaking and a corpulent fellow was shouting out orders to hitch the meohr and load up. ¡°We¡¯ll talk more later,¡± Muleater said. She started to turn, before thinking of one more thing to say. ¡°And thank you.¡± Kate stuck around a minute longer until Muleater called her away. Kate gave me one more hungry look before complying. ¡°The furless ones, those Qari, make me sick,¡± Larissen spat. ¡°And the way that blue one watches you, cub¡­ like prey. Be worried.¡± I agreed, but I had too many thoughts and feelings running through my head to even know how to respond. It was all just so much, so fast. Kissen clicked her tongue.¡°Perhaps. But the young one still recovers and must rest. Just as our brother tries.¡± ¡°Not well,¡± the sick one rasped out. ¡°Is there¡­ more water?¡± Kissen sighed, ¡°No. Perhaps more later. Hold strong until then and rest.¡± He sighed mournfully and continued breathing pitifully. I could barely pay him any attention, not to him, not to anyone. I had been enslaved. I needed medical attention, I sought out help, and humans had enslaved me. Kate was acting as though I was some sort of pet. It¡­ it was just¡­ so¡­ Tears began prickling the corners of my eyes as everything was catching up. It was so unfair! I cursed it all. No, I was the one that was cursed. Rotten awful horrible luck! I dropped further into despair, and would have kept falling, except for a familiar voice drawing me out. ¡°It will get easier,¡± Kissen said softly. She was right beside me, if a little behind, and her greater height put her face near my ears. Her breath tickled. ¡°Does Kitten wish to be petted?¡± ¡°... no,¡± I said, sniffling ever so slightly. ¡°This one thinks she does,¡± Kissen said with fondness, equally soft. Kissen gently picked me up and pulled me onto her lap. She began stroking my ears at the base. I melted at the touch, leaning back into her. The scalp massage continued, and I found myself purring. I did not overly mind. It was a pleasant diversion. Perhaps it would become easier, I thought. I found myself drifting off as the wagon jolted into movement. While the wheels bounced along the road, I sank further into Kissen¡¯s lap, into her administrations. Kissen began humming a pleasant melody once more, and I found myself drifting off to sleep. Ingestion 1.5.4.1 As we traveled, Sir Kate featured prominently in my thoughts. Or rather, she interjected herself frequently. I had learned from the Kaivan that it was she who had insisted upon healing me when I had been brought in. It was also Kate that had found me where I had collapsed. And once again, it was Kate who had argued against a summary execution for ¡®safety¡¯ and ¡®peace of mind.¡¯ It would not be inaccurate to claim that I owed her my life several times over. When the Kaivan told me, there had been a certain unspoken, almost imperceptible expectation. I could not even accurately define the weight, but it was there nonetheless. The way Kissen tousled my hair, and the way that Larissen kept an emotional divide between him and I, which stood in stark contrast to his sister¡¯s mannerisms, it all added up to imply they thought I had mixed loyalties. As though saving my life left Kate entitled to my loyalty. A laughable idea. However, I could not exactly state that. If the Kaivan expected me to be honor bound to serve Kate, or something else ridiculous along those lines, then they would likely consider me honorless when I told them I felt otherwise. And if they considered me an aberration in regards to their societal norms and values, then we would be in the exact same place, or perhaps worse. At least this way, their false expectations came with a dash of empathy. But speaking of Kate. The tincture or tonic or such, however the locals termed their medicine, had been remarkable. Just think, a drink that could heal gangrenous and rotten wounds, wounds that would ordinarily force amputation or excisement. This world truly contained some remarkable feats, and I felt an urge to understand more. If I had been capable of such magics in my previous life, I was certain things would have been different. Not that I remembered much¨Cno, I refused to. Though there were still quite a few jarring elements: blatant slavery, a mixed tech-base, and large stretches of apparently apocalyptic wastelands. Out of those three, while it was the slavery that currently affected me the most, I was only ever in that situation because of the shattered wasteland, and I could have likely avoided the worst of the slavery if not for the strange technology, or rather, artificery, of this world. I found myself tugging at the collar again. My grip felt weak, and I could barely squeeze a finger between my flesh and the metal. I had long since given up finding the hinge, and the locking mechanism appeared a thin divot no wider than a needle. Even with my lockpicks, I was unsure I could open it. No, that was bravado. I knew I could not open it. To do so required a special artificed key. And I had no idea where that key resided. My nail scraped across the metal, failing to leave so much as a mark. The material seemed impervious against most forms of damage. If only I had received a Talent for breaking collars. Not that I was certain that Talent would work, as everything else I had received from these tattoos had retreated. No longer had I a magical way to climb. I doubted I could avoid leaving a scent trail. And how could I begin to Evade anything? Of course, my Illusions failed to form. And even my mind felt sluggish. I hungered and thirsted more often than not. And I found myself in a constant state of weariness. While not all of the weakness had to be attributed to the collar, since I was recovering from what should have been mortal wounds, the collar was a convenient target. And so, I focused on trying to remove it. To no degree of success. My latest attempt, I had pried a nail up from the bed of the wagon. With the nail firmly gripped in hand, I began running the edge across the metal, pressing lightly, with my thumb following after to check the progress. So far, even the iron nail failed to leave a mark. But even a river could erode stone, given enough time. I made another pass, keeping the edge in line with where I thought the previous pass had been. And then another. -thwick-thwick-thwick- This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. The nail scraped continuously, picking up speed as I adapted to the motion. ¡°This will not work,¡± Larissen said, scoffing at my attempts, and turning an irritated ear towards the scraping sound. I ignored the comment, except to continue scraping the nail across the collar. -thwick-thwick-thwick- Larissen¡¯s ears twitched with each motion. I thought that I might have felt a groove. ¡°Let the Kitten try,¡± Kissen said. ¡°Perhaps luck will favor her.¡± -thwick-thwick-thwick- ¡°This will not happen,¡± Larissen said. -thwick-thwick-thwick- ¡°And all this does is irritate ears and inflame the Qari.¡± -thwick-thwick-thwick- I ran my thumb nail over the surface of the collar. There was definitely a mark where I had been scraping, but it felt odd, different than I had been expecting. ¡°And are any furless near?¡± Kissen asked in that lilting melody. ¡°And can the furless hear over the din of travel?¡± Kissen was referring to the roll of the wheels on the road, the vibrations of the cart, and the frequent shouts and loud conversations between the drivers. She had a point. Larissen growled in irritation, ¡°Like claws on dry slate.¡± ¡°Not that bad, dear brother,¡± Kissen said, chuffing. I kept feeling at the mark. It was faint, almost imperceptible. But something about it was just¡­ off. It took a moment for me to understand what I was feeling. I scratched at the mark a bit more. The mark fell off, pulling away from the collar. A wave of unease hit me. An indent should not have done that. ¡°Kitten?¡± Kissen asked, seemingly sensing my distress. But I could not be bothered to listen to her. I had to make sure, to verify, to confirm, that the impossibility was real. I passed the pad of my thumb back over the spot. It was completely smooth. A horrific realization was dawning upon me: the collar had not been wearing down, but instead, the nail had been rubbing off and accumulating on the material. That should not have happened. A brief panicked thought assaulted me, the fear that I would never remove the collar. ¡°Kitten, breathe,¡± Kissen chided. ¡°This is not so harsh as to kill. Patience and breath.¡± It was not until I felt her running her claws across the back of my nape, above the collar, at the base of my skull, that I snapped free from the downward spiral. Kissen was right. While I still breathed, there was hope. I had the skills. I just needed the opportunity to lift the key. I also needed to understand. ¡°How?¡± I asked. ¡°How can the material be so resilient?¡± Kissen¡¯s throat rumbled but it was Larissen that answered. ¡°The Qari do as they do; digging and plundering living metals. These metals carry a fragment of spirit. Resilient is a good term. Cursed is better.¡± Oh. It sounded potentially that more mysticism and spirituality were involved in the explanation. In a way, it made sense that uneducated primitives would default to that nature of explanation. However it left much to be desired. And I could not exactly push for details without coming across as irreverent. ¡°Where do the living metals come from?¡± I asked. ¡°The Folde,¡± Larissen said blandly. I was unsure what that term meant. Seeing my confusion, Kissen clarified, ¡°The ground. My brother makes a joke. A poor attempt.¡± He chuffed but offered no further explanation, seemingly content to watch the bleak world pass us by. After some time, he saw me watching out the same side, watching the broken rocks and the lifeless terrain. He waved a hand out, ¡°This is the result. Take, take, take, never give. That is the Qari way.¡± He spat. Interesting. An ecological disaster that humans were at fault for? Not an unheard of concept. Though I would not expect the uneducated to arrive at the conclusion correctly. But perhaps the idea had merit. As far as improper assumptions went, however, I had made a few regarding the Kaiva. I decided to rectify them by learning more. ¡°What of your people?¡± I asked. ¡°The Kaiva?¡± ¡°What of us?¡± Larissen asked brusquely. ¡°The kitten merely wishes to learn of her people that the humans wrongly denied her. Be nice, brother.¡± ¡°Hm,¡± was Larissen¡¯s response. He made his meaning clear. He would not answer, but nor would he obstruct. ¡°What would the kitten wish to know?¡± Kissen asked. ¡°Everything,¡± I said. Kissen chuffed. ¡°Anything first?¡± she asked, amused. I thought about it for a moment, watching the bleak landscape roll by. ¡°Are there really jungles out there?¡± ¡°Yes. Oh yes. As big as mountains.¡± Ingestion 1.5.4.2 The rest of that day, as we traveled, I learned more about the fantastic jungles to the south. Having steamy and tropical climes, I of course had to ask about the gloomy weather, and if they perhaps had at least seen the sun. Apparently, the term came across as unfamiliar. The closest translation I could think of was the Kaivan term for ¡®great sky spirit,¡¯ which they misconstrued as the grand temples their civilization built around and upon. I had been lucky, when I had asked that question. Knowledge, or hints of knowledge, as of seeing something as fantastical as a heavenly body, other than an overcast sky, would have painted me as quite the outsider. Apparently. But regardless of the near faux pas, I learned a substantial amount until the caravan stopped that evening to make camp. We had settled into a speculative conversation, once again, as to my origins. Such as my species, and where I might have originated. The Kaiva had made a game of trying to guess based on whatever clues they thought they could derive. ¡°But the eyes, her eyes!¡± Larissen said. ¡°Such a burning blue, where else could that come from but the sea?¡± Kissen snorted, ¡°Rhymes gain no points.¡± ¡°But this is serious,¡± Larissen said. ¡°Far to the west, the isles, and beyond that, the jeweled sands. Are those not rumored exotic?¡± ¡°But¨C¡± the sick one, who was named Issen and the eldest of the trio, interjected with a rasp. ¡°-but how could a pup go from there to¨C¡± he ended in a cough. ¡°Easy, brother,¡± Kissen said. ¡°And this is also my question.¡± ¡°Humans, of course,¡± Larissen explained. Neither of the other two could immediately refute that. Kissen instead came from another angle. ¡°My brother forgets, that Kitten speak our tongue. That is not so across the Liching Seas.¡± ¡°And how is this known?¡± Larisssen asked. ¡°Are these undead Kaivan?¡± Kissen asked, amused. Issen snorted, but added nothing else. Larissen did have a follow up for that, however. ¡°Perhaps not, but another reason could exist as well.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Kissen asked, mildly amused. ¡°Yes. That reason. It is¡­¡± he trailed off to build suspense, ¡°...humans.¡± Issen chuckle-coughed while Kissen snorted. I finally decided to divert the game. I had another question for them, Kissen in particular. It centered around a term she continued to use when speaking of me. ¡°Why call me Kitten?¡± I asked, slightly mangling their tongue. ¡°Or¡­ pup?¡± From my sparse memories, I knew I was old. Around my twenties, or so I thought. Well beyond what either of those affectations would imply, unless the Kaiva were unnaturally long lived. So I felt marginal surprise when that ended up being exactly their answer. ¡°Youth,¡± Issen said. Kissen and Larissen both agreed, nodding along. Which was strange. Granted, physically, I was smaller than all of them, even Kissen, so that I could not necessarily explain it as sexual dimorphism. But that could have also been a genetic quirk, similar to the other physical differences. Still though, I had to know more. ¡°How young do I look?¡± I asked. Kissen and her brothers exchanged glances. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Fifteen, and no older.¡± By this time, we were no closer to discovering my origins, and the camp had been set. Our discussion had unknowingly drawn the attention of one of the humans. ¡°Animals,¡± a man said, approaching. He wore a hooded jacket made of dark leather, with a padded vest. Leather bandoliers strapped across his chest and waist, which were lined with fluid filled vials, some glowing, some opaque, none of them labeled. Beneath his hood, the left side of his face had been masked, with an orange lens completely hiding that eye. His mouth had been left uncovered, revealing canines that seemed inhumanly sharp. Most notably, though, was not his looks, nor the alchemical mixtures. No. It was the scent of distress and pain that lingered after him, alien, yet familiar, and almost jogging a memory free. The man could have cared less about my inspection. He smeared at me. ¡°You, animal¨C¡± he said with much disdain ¡°-what species are you?¡± I guessed that even the humans wanted in on the game. Not that I would admit that out loud. I could have imagined Larissen saying something along the lines of, ¡®This one thinks the human should get in line.¡¯ Apparently, he saw something in my expression he disliked, for he raised his voice. ¡°Answer me!¡± he demanded. I opened, then closed my mouth. Not to be obstinate, but I had trouble getting a read of this man. And without knowing if what I said would further my cause or not, I was disinclined to offer out potential leverage against me. When my silence became apparent, he snarled and threatened. ¡°I will find that answer. And the means will not be enjoyable. Now show me your arms.¡± He wanted to see the tattoos? With that attitude? I thought not. I pressed my forearms to my sides, hiding the marks from sight. ¡°Beast,¡± he spat. One of his hands traced the vials along his bandolier, and they stopped on a corpulent orange one. I tensed, and I was not the only one. He almost pulled it loose. Almost. But at the last second, he seemed to think better of it, instead smiling nastily. ¡°At least it shows your feeble brain comprehends basic Imperial. Which may be useful¨C¡± he muttered, more to himself than to me, before refocusing me with his ire. ¡°-I know your glyphs are in High Silver. What living stone was used? Who performed the Rites? How¨C¡± At that point, he was interrupted by a familiar, boisterous, and ridiculous young woman. ¡°Alchemist Apprentice Charson,¡± Sir Kate called out loudly, striding up to meet him. ¡°These are questions that I find relevant as well. Have you determined any answers?¡± The man, apparently Apprentice Alchemist Charson, performed a complete reversal in his attitude and inclined his head slightly to Sir Kate. ¡°I have found the beasts uncooperative. Have you had more success in this matter, perhaps?¡± ¡°No,¡± Sir Kate answered. ¡°Lieutenant Muleater and scouts were unable to find her trail. Whoever injured her did so far enough away as to leave no residue and it is unlikely that they followed her.¡± ¡°Unfortunate but expected. Perhaps the beast has a Talent that played a role?¡± Sir Kate shrugged, ¡°She will tell me soon, I feel.¡± ¡°Ambitious to trust a beast¡¯s intent,¡± Charson said. ¡°Though perhaps it feels indebted as you expended quite the valuable healing tincture. Not that creatures understand wealth. But surely, even simple minds must understand the value of healing¡­ how will you justify that expense, if you would humor me?¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± Sir Kate asked, frowning in confusion. ¡°Healing another¡¯s property,¡± he said. ¡°Do you think its owner will compensate you, perhaps? Or are you expecting a reward?¡± She narrowed her eyes. ¡°Something like that.¡± ¡°Or perhaps, you mean to lay a salvage claim?¡± he asked with a wry smirk. ¡°But do I not remember your contract¨C¡± ¡°Enough,¡± she said brusquely. Charson feigned insult. ¡°Now, I know many find my craft distasteful, but surely you could afford manners? You could, after all¨C¡± ¡°Enough!¡± she snapped. ¡°I don¡¯t know what your game is¨C¡± she pointed a finger at his chin ¡°-but stop! I¡¯m not in the mood.¡± ¡°And here I was near about to offer you an elixir,¡± he said, in an insufferable smug yet deceitful tone. ¡°Perhaps one to benefit your speed and dexterity? A permanent boost?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± she asked. ¡°What for?¡± ¡°Merely for the¨C¡± ¡°Nah,¡± she said. ¡°Keep it to yourself. I don¡¯t need any deviations on top of everything else, apprentice.¡± She finished all but in a disdainful sneer. The conversation was breaking down, and I could not fathom why. What rivalry was at play, or what injury had their egos suffered? The antagonism was difficult to follow; I was missing context. Fortunately, before I was caught up in any further escalations, the Lieutenant barked for Kate¡¯s attention. ¡°Kate! Have we discovered any abilities from the Marks? Any unusual behavior?¡± ¡°No!¡± Kate shouted back across the camp, rather than heading towards her aunt. ¡°Then attend to your duties!¡± Muleater shouted back. Several other voices were cajoling throughout the camp as people settled in. A moment later, Muleater added, ¡°And Ken is available for a spar.¡± ¡°Ugh,¡± Kate groaned. ¡°Fiiine,¡± she said. She turned and left after that, but not before she gave the alchemist one final threatening glare. ¡°Keep your hands off her,¡± she warned, stomping away to attend to her duties. Ingestion 1.5.4.3 ¡°This isn¡¯t a godslickin challenge!¡± Kate¡¯s voice echoed through the camp. After she had left, she and another knight had gone to practice fighting. From what I heard, Kate had been deeply disappointed. -ting- A pebble clattered off metal. ¡°Nice block, lady!¡± one of the drivers called out. While I could not see any of what was happening, I could hear enough to form an idea of what was happening. People were throwing stones at Kate as she practiced with (I assumed) a blunt sword. She had not been amused, judging by her tone of voice. ¡°Then we¡¯ll need to make this more interesting,¡± a man¡¯s voice said, partially strained and out of breath. Likely her training partner. Kate growled. ¡°Think she can get ¡®em all?¡± one of the drivers asked. ¡°Wanna up the ante?¡± another offered. The observers treated the entire thing as entertainment and were laughing and catcalling. I could smell Kate¡¯s ire from where we were. They likely were taking their lives into their own hands without realizing. -ting- -ting- -ting- -ti¨C ¡°Argh!¡± Kate bellowed. I flinched from the volume. Issen chuckled wetly, while Kissen slapped him upon his back to help break the phlegm loose. ¡°Is it always like this?¡± I asked. ¡°The child-warrior?¡± Larissen asked. ¡°Her, yes. Sir Kate?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Larissen answered. ¡°Her desire to improve is great. And her practice is often.¡± ¡°Sometimes she¡¯s worse,¡± Lieutenant Muleater said, coming up from the outer side of the prison wagon. I was startled, not realizing she was there until she spoke. ¡°But while she¡¯s sparring, let¡¯s chat.¡± She dragged a stool along and sat down near the bars. ¡°I take it you¡¯ve been enjoying your accommodations?¡± she asked. I could not fathom if she was serious or if she was speaking in jest. My mouth hung open as I processed that. I most certainly was not enjoying them, but if I said that, then would that worsen my position? I lacked a read on Muleater. Fortunately, I did not need to answer in this case. Issen snorted, breaking the silence. Muleater chuckled. The fact she was laughing left me thinking it had been a joke, but her laugh held an edge to it, and was somewhat off putting. ¡°You don¡¯t sound like you¡¯re at the peak of health, kun.¡± Muleater was speaking to Issen now. ¡°Maybe you¡¯re wishing my niece had a soft heart with you instead of the kid, yeah?¡± The sick Kaiva shook his head, protesting, catching Muleater off guard. ¡°No, this one does not,¡±Issen said. ¡°An old man or a young girl, which should be saved?¡± ¡°Depends on who you ask,¡± Muleater said. ¡°But I didn¡¯t come to talk philosophy. I wanted to find out more about the Red Queen and her crew. And if maybe you decided to spill a bit more about those questionable circumstances we found ya in...¡± These people reminded me of a dog gnawing on a bone. They just would not let go. How many times would they try asking, and in how many different ways? ¡°...we might be able to get better accommodations for you if you helped us out a bit here.¡± I had no doubt this time that the offer was genuine. Likely it was simply another interrogation tactic. Or possibly, she meant to sow dissent between myself and the Kaivan. Likely, this lieutenant thought I was foolish enough to take her at her word. If she wanted my cooperation, then she should have never had me put in a cage. But it was not as though I could say that, not so plainly. However, that did not mean I could not make use of her bad-faith offer. ¡°W-what do you mean?¡± I asked in a purposefully weak voice. Kissen gave me a pinch beyond Muleater¡¯s sight. Likely, she wanted me to understand that humans could not be trusted. It was sweet of her to think she needed to warn me. ¡°Oh, what couldn¡¯t be improved?¡± she laughed, slapping her thigh. ¡°Better food for starters. Maybe more yard time. But it depends on how cooperative you are¡­¡± she trailed off meaningfully, putting the burden on me, as though I was the one that needed to prove I was worth treating with dignity. ¡°W-would the same apply for these three?¡± I asked, hoping to continue strengthening the empathy between me and my co-captives. ¡°Kitten,¡± Kissen hissed ever so lightly. The fact that Kissen was protesting meant my strategy was somewhat effective. If Muleater heard Kissen, then she pretended not to hear, instead continuing the conversation with an irritating hum. If a hum could pose a question. ¡°Yeah, sure. If you want, that is,¡± Muleater said. I nodded jerkily, ¡°it is.¡± ¡°Generous of you. If I knew you were so obliging, maybe I wouldn¡¯t have overreacted when we first met!¡± she said, continuing in that light-hearted tone, one that attempted levity, but only in the sort a hardened criminal would have. ¡°But then again, you¡¯ve got those markings, and aren¡¯t those beauts. You know what that artwork does?¡± she asked. I shook my head slightly. ¡°Heh, I didn''t think you would. ¡®Course, I can¡¯t give ya any favors for that answer. So earlier you mentioned the Red Queen. Mind telling this gal how you bumped into that piece of work?¡± I needed to give some answers, but it was getting tricky, keeping all of my previous answers straight. This was how interviewers caught liars. But fortunately, I had a plan besides relying on silence. I gave another jerky nod, but not too eagerly. I was remembering something horrific. Then, after feigned hesitation, I answered verbally as well. ¡°S-she s-shot-t me¡­¡± ¡°But how did you find her? I¡¯m not gonna ask why she shot you, or had you shot. But how¡¯d you come across her, is what I¡¯m wanting here.¡± Now, to come across as traumatized and repetitive. It was a fine line, but my act would be critical to avoiding additional suspicions. ¡°They¨Cthey shot me. I was running, but not fast enough. I hid in a canyon before running again.¡± Muleater sighed and pinched her nose. ¡°Fine, yes. Her people shot you. Can you describe the weapons they used, then, since you¡¯re so held up on them?¡± Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°Ye-yes¡­ they were like guns, but with¨C¡± She held up her hand to forestall me, and instantly I knew I had made a mistake. It did not take me long to figure out how. ¡°Gun?¡± she asked, barely stumbling over the word. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m unfamiliar with the term. What do they look like?¡± Of course. I had been too busy congratulating myself and I had to go and make that mistake. Mentioning something that might not even exist here. Using a foreign word. I growled at myself, before realizing I was giving away a cue, one that Muleater¡¯s sharp eyes took in. I calmed myself, at least on the exterior. I needed to recover. ¡°Putting a pin in that, what did these ¡®guns¡¯ do? What did they look like?¡± That, at least, I could answer. And I should answer. Otherwise, it would come across as suspicious that I wanted to keep the term a secret. Because, why would someone be motivated to do that? So, I answered happily, playing off my previous faux pas as an error in translation. ¡°They pointed them at me and there was a flash of¨Cof light¨C¡± I faked a slight sniffle, not enough to really be noticeable, but enough that subconsciously it might affect someone. Of course one of the Kaiva huffed. ¡°It burned. In and out, it was numb at first, but then started to ache, then burn. It left a hole in my favorite jacket too¡­¡± I watched Muleater¡¯s face carefully. Her eyes flickered to the side, near one of the uncovered wagons. I could not be sure, but when I went to look for my jacket, I would check there. ¡°From the wounds we observed, we believe those were artificed weaponry. Incredibly prohibited artificed weaponry.¡± She frowned. ¡°Was the Red Queen group your previous masters?¡± ¡°Wha¨Cno!¡± I said, accidentally breaking tone and revealing far too much. Like the fact that I considered slavery absolutely reprehensible. Which, if I was reading my surroundings right, was a novel viewpoint around these parts. ¡°I mean, no,¡± I corrected, but it was too late. Her eyes narrowed just slightly. ¡°I want to believe you,¡± she said. ¡°But this is not making a lot of sense. Why were they shooting at you then, if you weren¡¯t escaping them? And not that I blame you¨CI get it¨Cthey sound like terrible owners. Illegal weapons and who knows what¡­¡± Oh, she was good. I might have been taking her as a simpleton, but that was me underestimating her. I would avoid doing so in the future. But how should I recover this position? I could admit to breaking into the Red Queen¡¯s base with an intention of theft, and the admission was tempting if the Red Queen Bandits truly were some sort of outlaw scourge, but there were a few issues. All of this story could be a ploy from Muleater to cause me to entrap myself by admitting to illegalities. Admitting to thievery lowered empathy points with law officers. And thievery against thieves might not actually be legal. Overall, it was just better to avoid any admissions of thievery. So I lied. ¡°I stumbled across their base¡­¡± I said, already planning what had caused me to end up there in the first place, the gnolls. But to my surprise, she took the conversation in a different direction. ¡°You know where their base is?¡± she asked. I was pretty sure I had already answered that. Was she trying to catch me out in another lie? What had I answered last time? ¡°Maybe? D-do you have my map? ¡­ I remembered a few landmarks.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll circle back around to that. There¡¯s a reward for taking them in¨Cespecially if they¡¯ve dipped their fingers in the weapons market. But before that, would you mind telling me how you came across them?¡± ¡°I¨C¡± I paused, and was sure to keep my face and eyes neutral, avoiding fidgeting or glancing one way or another ¡°-was running from¨C¡± ¡°Running from?¡± she asked. I originally had called them gnolls. I had heard humans call them hundeor. But what was the proper term, and what would avoid betraying my own sources of knowledge. I could not describe them without risking showing I know descriptors I should not. In the end, I defaulted to what the bandits had called them. ¡°Hundeor?¡± I said. ¡°They wanted to eat me? I think.¡± ¡°You ran across hundeor too?!¡± she crowed. ¡°I guess you¡¯ve got some luck, huh? How long you think you must have been wandering the wastes to run across all these hostiles?¡± I shrugged and shook my head slightly. She was still digging for information, of course. She may have been hiding her tactics under friendly conversation, but I had no doubts that anything I said could and would be used against me. But I had to answer, otherwise I would gain additional suspicion and lose any rapport I had built. ¡°It¡­ it was difficult,¡± I said, wetting my lips. ¡°There was no food. No water¡­ when I stumbled upon the bandit camp, I found a water barrel¡­ but¡­¡± I trailed off, hoping that would allay any further questions until I could make my eventual escape. ¡°But?¡± Muleater asked. Unfortunate, but it had been a far fetched hope to begin with. ¡°It was not worth it,¡± I said, making a show of feeling my tender side where I had been shot. I did my best to school my expression as my hand passed over where my breast should have been, and as I was again accosted by the fact that I had been stripped naked, and that I had¨Cfur¨Ceverywhere. A wave of disgust and self loathing filled me, but not a fraction of it pierced my face. ¡°I see¡­ how long were you wandering the wastes?¡± she asked. Most unfortunate. That was a question that would lead to more questions which would then reveal facts that I most definitely did not want to reveal. Such as how I awoke, and that I felt this world was not my own. In fact, I ought to stop claiming to be a human, even though I was. That would only raise suspicions, or cause people to think of me as a jokester, which would harm credibility. Regardless, I needed to redirect the conversation and hope it did not come back to my origins. ¡°I think¡­¡± I trailed off, breaking off my eye contact and looking downward, while curling up slightly around myself. With my differing body and anatomy, I was left unsure if I truly conveyed the emotion that I was faking. ¡°Yes? What is it?¡± Muleater asked, leaning in. ¡°Whatever it was, you¡¯ll be safe in my custody until we reach Bath.¡± As if that was what I wanted to hear. But I had her now, and now it was time to redirect. ¡°There were other¡­ things¡­¡± I said. ¡°Creatures. I think they helped me, but also maybe¡­ did other things? I¡¯m having difficulty remembering. But the creatures, I can remember them.¡± Muleater frowned. ¡°Describe them.¡± And so I did. While I had been feverish at the time, I had definitely lost my backpack to the creature, and even if it had traded me its possibly-drugged beverage in return, the trade had not been ideal. The creatures certainly had been odd. They had appeared made of moss and vines, with flowers ornamenting them. Despite the material, they had conveyed the image of danger. ¡°Wyrkwik,¡± Muleater hissed. In an instant, her tone had completely changed. Her false joviality gone. ¡°You met them? In the wastes? That makes no sense. How could they have crossed over?¡± she muttered more to herself than anyone. ¡°Someone must have smuggled them in¡­ those bastards.¡± She punched the wall of the wagon, shaking the entire cage and cracking the thick plank of wood. That had been an unnaturally strong blow. And her hand appeared undamaged. ¡°What were they doing?¡± I shrugged helplessly. ¡°Is that how you survived out there?¡± I grimaced. I did not want to admit that the wyrkwik traded me water and rations for my backpack. Who knew what superstitions existed, or if these people believed that the wyrkwik offered diseases. It would be better to avoid the risk altogether. She grunted. ¡°I need you to give me more than that.¡± ¡°They¡­ they herded me?¡± I paused, both for impact, and because, looking back at it, I really was unsure what their purpose was. But it was undeniable that they had played a strong role in my arrival at the caravan. The question remained. ¡°Why?¡± Muleater asked, more to herself than anyone. ¡°How close were they?¡± I shrugged, ¡°A day¡¯s run,¡± I said, still unsure how distances were measured here, and unwilling to give anything up. ¡°Gods loving monsters!¡± she snarled in what I thought was a curse. ¡°We¡¯ll talk more later,¡± she finished, turning from me and striding off towards the caravan master, shouting, ¡°We¡¯re breaking camp earlier. I want to see some hustle!¡± she clapped her hands, kicking dirt at a driver who was still sleeping under his wagon, and bellowed: ¡°Come on! Move it! Lazy sacks of slag!¡± It was not long until the caravan drivers assembled, hitched their wagons to the bi-pedal mules, and broke camp. Before we started moving, one of the drivers tossed a jute sack into the cage with us, which held our meals for the evening. We soon began moving, while Kissen opened the bag and sneered. ¡°These furless know nothing of cuisine.¡± ¡°More of their grains?¡± Larissen asked. ¡°No meat even,¡± Issen groaned. ¡°Starvation will kill before this lung rot.¡± ¡°Still,¡± Kissen growled, handing a loaf of black bread to each of the males, and offering another to me. ¡°These keep one¡¯s strength¡­ if barely.¡± I held the ¡®bread¡¯ in my hands and barely considered eating it. It felt hard, it smelled as rank as dirty socks, and caused not a minor amount of repulsion. I recognized the bread as what the gnolls had kept in their pantry, which meant it had a long shelf-life. I could only hope that people in cities had better food than this. Because as it was, I refused. I handed it back to Kissen and shook my head. ¡°Kitten, I know this is foul. But this is all that will be given this day.¡± ¡°It looks rancid,¡± I said, switching to the language of these Kaiva with hardly a thought. Now that I knew what to look for, I realized that my ability to pick up languages was quite incredible, even extrapolating off to words I had yet to hear. The ability was miraculous enough it ought to have shown up on one of my glyphs as a Talent or Gift. But so far, I had not seen any obvious sign of my linguistic might. But I had noticed that my Blessing of Mind always increased drastically, accompanied by a terrible headache, when I encountered new languages. Perhaps the Blessing increased my mental prowess to the point I could just ¡®learn¡¯ languages like that? That would be incredible enough to be unbelievable. And yet, I saw no other possibility. ¡°It is rancid,¡± Kissen said. ¡°But the alternative is starvation. And this Kitten already smells weak.¡± I shook my head. Sure, I was hungry, but not that hungry. ¡°Kitten is a picky eater,¡± one of the males joked, putting emphasis on the nickname, demonstrating a level of insult which was likely meant to spur to me to eat. But that was hardly going to work. Ingestion 1.5.5 Rather than stopping for rest that night, Muleater convinced the caravan master to harness the meohr back up, to affix lanterns on the wagons, and to keep everyone pushing forward. The drivers complained, the meohrs were whipped, and even some of the knights complained. Now, while this would not ordinarily concern me, especially as I was riding rather than walking, there was a tiny, small, and hopefully insignificant issue. Muleater was basing this entirely unpopular decision upon what she heard from me. And what a foolish decision that was, for several reasons: One, Muleater had made clear that she placed no trust with me, but she was still deciding to make a drastic decision from solely my word. This was compounded from my point of view, as she made no secret of where her intelligence had come from. Two, the so-called parasitic plant people, the wyrkwik, had yet to show themselves to the caravan; if it even was the wyrkwik, then these clearly were not malicious as they had let me through without harm; besides, last I saw the possibly-but-probably-not-wyrkwik, it had been at least a single day¡¯s worth of travel between us and it already. Though I supposed it could not be assumed that since they wyrkwik failed to attack the night previous that they would never do so. Three, they could not determine that the creature I may or may not have hallucinated was or was not a wyrkwik. And finally, four, they were taking a risk by traveling through the night, for the darkness was deep, and the route through the craggy wasteland treacherous. But who was I to critique them? I had all the moral right to both critique and judge. Especially when I was getting nasty glares from the humans. To dispel the unease, I snorted, almost chortled. At the sound, Larissen¡¯s ears twitched. ¡°Something amusing?¡± he asked. He and his siblings had been watching what they could of the landscape, but even my eyes struggled to pierce far into the gloom. The lanterns actually hindered our night-eye, somewhat. ¡°Just wondering why the humans are driving through the night.¡± Larissen¡¯s ears twitched, and he gave me a glance that insulted my intelligence. ¡°Was the report of mikuya not from your lips?¡± Another word I failed to recognize, though I quickly made an assumption. ¡°Mikuya, that is the Kaivan term for the wyrkwik?¡± I asked. Larissen scoffed and shook his head, turning back to watching the gloom roll by. It was his brother Issen who deigned to answer. ¡°What would humans know?¡± he said in a raspy and faint voice, one that took all my focus just to hear and parse, almost a whisper. ¡°What should be trusted, a close neighbor or a distant spy?¡± I had to break down what he was saying, because as with moth Kaivan, their intent was not immediately clear. But if I understood what he was saying, it was that the Kaivan that deserved the privilege of naming the creatures, and not the humans, based solely upon proximity. And in a way, it made sense. The Kaivan should be more knowledgeable on the creatures, that was, if they shared a demesne. ¡°The mikuya then,¡± I said, quickly conceding the point to them and using their term. ¡°What are the mikuya, and¡­¡± ¡°And why do the humans flee when none chase?¡± Kissen said from behind me, her breath tickling my ears. ¡°That.¡± ¡°The mikuya are the walking jungle,¡± Kissen answered plainly. ¡°And if wise, then all flee when the mikuya come.¡± ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± I asked, somewhat surprised at the admission of pseudo-cowardice. ¡°The creatures are corruptive, spreading and infecting those venturing onto their lands.¡± I was going to need more knowledge than that; I strongly regretted the language barrier between us, because this was difficult to parse, and I was certain I had misunderstood. ¡°Infecting?¡± I asked. ¡°The plant creatures?¡± I asked, just to make sure we were still speaking of the same thing. ¡°If it is what was seen,¡± Issen said. ¡°But¡­ how would they infect anyone, given that they¡¯re¡­ plants? Spores, maybe?¡± ¡°The creature the kitten saw¨C¡± Kissen referred to me, rejoining the conversation ¡°-was the creature shaped as an animal, but covered in roots?¡± I thought back to the memories and spoke as I tried to recall through the fever dreams. ¡°Vines, or maybe roots? It¡¯s foggy, but I thought it might have been a plant shaped like a meohr,¡± I said. The meohr pulling the wagons looked the same, like almost pacified minotaurs. ¡°Likely this was a meohr, before becoming infested,¡± Kissen added. I thought about that for a bit. If I recalled correctly, the meohr, the bull person, had been covered by green pigment and white tendrils that grew in and out of its discolored flesh, and those tendrils flexed and drove each movement. That there was a species that could so radically alter or consume an otherwise benign humanoid draft animal¡­ It left me with a growing gnawing pit of concern. So of course, I had to ask the next most relevant question. ¡°How?¡± I asked, my mouth and throat having gone dry, thinking the rest of my question should be obvious. ¡°Hm?¡± Kissen prompted, almost humming. ¡°How does it spread?¡± I asked once more, already taking an inventory of my flesh. For the first time, I was thankful that I had been stripped bare of clothing, as it made the inspection quicker, and I could rely on the fact that obvious discolorations would have already been sighted. ¡°These ones are unsure,¡± Issen confessed. ¡°None of those who enter their lands have discovered this¨C¡± ¡°-of those that have returned, anyway,¡± Larissen added, chuffing at a joke that I missed. ¡°Is it by disease?¡± I asked, after struggling for a way to ask of the details regarding viral and bacterial infection. ¡°Perhaps,¡± Issen said with a shrug. ¡°But those infected seldom leave the mikuya lands. These creatures are territorial. And if sapient, then the mikuya are isolationist in the extreme.¡± ¡°Are they only found in the jungles?¡± I asked. Wondering what they were doing up north, hoping that I had not been in close proximity to a contagious vector. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°South is what was so thought,¡± Issen answered. ¡°But perhaps those thoughts are wrong.¡± ¡°Why would they even be up here?¡± I asked, still not figuring it out, and attempting to cling to a false hope that it was somehow not the mikuya I had encountered. ¡°And why would they let me leave?¡± I just barely refrained from mentioning again how the possible-mikuya provided me aid, as I did not wish to draw attention to possible sympathies between a perceived antagonistic force and myself. ¡°Why here?¡± Kissen mused. ¡°It is hard to imagine that anyone would choose to live in the wastes like this when lush vegetation exists to the south.¡± Larissen spat. ¡°Any lands the Qari touch are like this. Perhaps the creatures wish to reclaim the life of the land. This one doubts the mikuya could worsen these lands.¡± A distracting thought was most welcome. It seemed the Kaiva blamed the humans for the ecological disaster that surrounded us. Without a way to verify that claim one way or another, I could only say that there was a correlation between humans and the wastes, at least so far as the Kaiva were concerned. This would be information for later. Currently, it meant there were racial tensions between the Kaiva and humans, which was corroborated by the fact that they were in a prison wagon and collared like animals. Though still, If the humans shattered the land, then I could believe it, because it would hardly be the first ruining. There was another question I wished to ask, one that would help me decide where to travel once I stole back my freedom. The issue with asking it, however, was that it could destroy some of the sympathies I had been developing between the Kaiva and myself. But the temptation was growing to ask, my curiosity increasing, and if I asked carefully, I would likely avoid hurting my relationships with them overly much. So I decided to risk asking. ¡°Are the Kaivan so different from the humans?¡± I asked. ¡°What?¡± Larissen spat. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Kitten?¡± A pained chuckle was all Issen added. ¡°In regards to the land. Kaiva has trees? Do they not harvest them? Do they not have factories of their own?¡± ¡°They, Kitten?¡± Kissen scolded. ¡°It was not simple industry that caused this disaster called the shattering. It was the humans and their greed for power, to steal from the spirits to sate their maw.¡± This would then tie back into their religion, I was sure. Similar to a ¡®great flood¡¯ or a ¡®heavenly war¡¯ then. Perhaps the humans were not at fault after all. But another point occurred to me, once again. It had been subtle, but Kissen scolded me for two things. One, for using a human pronoun in an otherwise Kaivan sentence. And another, for separating myself from the Kaivan, in using ¡®they.¡¯ The fact that Kissen was willing to argue the opposite, that I was of Kaiva, was too good of an opportunity to let pass. I needed to take advantage of it. Letting doubt leak into my voice, ¡°I¡¯m still not sure I¡¯m a Kaiva,¡± I said. ¡°How could I be, if I know nothing of the people?¡± I tried to mimic their inflections when they themselves referred to the Kaiva people. I was only partially successful, but I think I hit it close enough. ¡°No kitten is born knowing,¡± Issen scoffed. Perfect. ¡°I look so different, though,¡± I protested falsely. ¡°And I mangle the tongue,¡± I added on. ¡°But what else would Kitten be?¡± Kissen asked, amused. ¡°Your ears are sharp, tail is long, claws and maws,¡± she almost sang. Perhaps a verse from a Kaiva nursery, I theorized. But even if she was being humorous, the fact she was arguing was good. It was excellent. This cemented the empathy they felt towards me. But other than my manipulations, and the opportunity that fell into my lap, I really did take a chance to examine what they were saying. While I had no chance to really examine myself in a mirror, she had some points, but she also missed some things. The Kaiva were definitely feline in nature, with shorter muzzles and long agile tails. They were far away from the color lilac, and my tail was far bushier at the end than theirs. I thought I might be more of a canine than them, or fox like. But in the end, these little differences hardly mattered in comparison of us to a human. And¡­ and I needed to come to terms with my appearances. To do otherwise would be a weakness. Even if it pained me. I was covered in fur. I had a tail that was absurdly long and fluffy. My fingers ended in claws, and so did my toes, but I only had four toes on the front, and a fifth toe on the back. I had a strange ankle and foot joint, my hips were shaped differently. My ears were on top of my head and long. The muzzle was strange, with sharp teeth and a narrow tongue, and my nose in the wrong spot, just like a dog¡¯s. Fortunately I still had hair, but it was far shorter, and silkier than it should have been, and it was a deeper purple. But the worst difference was my chest. I no longer had breasts. My chest was flat, and my nipples lined my stomach, with six of them, three on each side. Just thinking of that left me feeling ill, but I needed to come to terms with my new reality, otherwise I would never have a chance at changing it. The silence grew heavy after that, all of us lost in thought, except Issen who snored. While we traveled, an orange glow lit one hillside to the west. It was not the sun, nor any heavenly body, but one of the many oil fires that pervaded the land. Against that glow though, I saw what might have been a silhouette. A familiar one. A meohr, with branches growing from its shoulders. It was the same, or similar, to the one from my fever dreams. A possible-wyrkwik, or mikuya, depending on the language. And it was seemingly waving at me. The caravan continued moving, and within fifteen seconds we passed the point where it was hidden behind another stone. I expected one of the knights to have seen. I expected an alarm. But when no alarm was sounded, I began to doubt the vigilance of the humans. My eventual escape might be even easier to carry out¨Cassuming we even reached our destination. With the incompetence of the guards on full display, I began to have my doubts that we ever would arrive. As I thought, I noted that there was still no alarm from the knights. Nobody else had seen the creature then. But it had waved. Had it been for me? But if so, then what was the message? I considered alerting the caravan, but quickly decided against it. They were fearful of the mikuya, and they might think I had some form of collusion with the mikuya. Besides, would they even believe me? I nudged Kissen. She lazily swatted at the air and rumbled, though her eyes remained shut. I nudged her again, just a little harder. ¡°Mwhaa?¡± she asked, sitting up and looking at me expectantly. I might not have thought this through. But then again, I was beginning to build a profile for Kissen, and I thought this would work. ¡°A few minutes ago I saw the same mikuya from before, I think,¡± I said in a low voice. Her eyes widened and she hissed. ¡°For certain?¡± ¡°Looked like a meohr made from plants. It was in the distance though, and only a silhouette. Hard to be sure.¡± ¡°What was it doing?¡± ¡°Just watching,¡± I said. I left off the part where it waved. ¡°Scouting, but being obvious with it. Why¡­ ?¡± Her eyes landed on my arms, where my Marks rested. Her ears perked up, along with her eyebrows. I could roughly follow her train of thought. If a species was acting abnormally, then look for abnormal causes. My ¡®Marks¡¯ counted as abnormal. It seemed both she and I were thinking the same, for she asked, ¡°Who marred Kitten¡¯s flesh?¡± referring to the tattoos on my forearms. ¡°This one knows you have not answered, but tell this one true, was it the mikuya?¡± Finding it no longer made a difference, at least not if we were attacked. Besides, Kissen was adamant I answered, and she could likely smell deceit. I had nothing to gain by lying currently, and I doubted she would rat me out to the humans. So I took a slight risk, and I gave a limited and truthful answer. ¡°I don¡¯t know who,¡± I answered. ¡°But who are you calling marred?¡± I was perhaps not arrogant or narcissistic, but nobody enjoyed hearing their appearances were marred, even if they happened to be a freak. ¡°Among the Kaiva, the Spirits are held in esteem, not the fallen gods.¡± She hissed when she mentioned the gods, the distaste evident upon her face. ¡°Marks such as these are only received from these fallen gods, or from the mutilations the furless so adore.¡± She paused, then just to make it abundantly clear, in case I missed it. ¡°Not of Kaiva.¡± ¡°So truth¡­ Kitten does not know?¡± Kissen asked once more. I hummed a bit with trepidation, before once more, repeating my answer, but perhaps giving away just a slight bit more. ¡°I¡¯m not sure how I got these,¡± I said. ¡°But it might have been mikuya, I guess. I know they saw me, and saw my marks. But does that sound like them? I don¡¯t know the creatures well, but from what you and your siblings told me, I find it difficult to believe that they would empower outsiders.¡± ¡°This makes sense,¡± she said. ¡°Perhaps, even if not the source, there is still interest in your abilities¡­¡± ¡°Regarding the possible mikuya, what should we do?¡± I asked. After a moment''s pause, she chuffed. ¡°Nothing. Let the Furless taste the fury of the jungle if it comes. Slavers deserve nothing less.¡± Just then, Issen growled, ¡°Quiet please. This one¡¯s rest is disturbed.¡± Ingestion 1.5.6.1 When I next awoke the light was shining through the perpetual overcast. Were were still rocking along the road, though the wagons were traveling slower now than the previous night. The pace seemed to frustrate the caravan, judging by the irritable shouts from the drivers and cracks of their whips against their draft animals. Not long after I opened my eyes, the meohr had begun to flag. An hour after that, a meohr collapsed, forcing the entire caravan to pause. It gave a pained and bovine groan, thrashing against the harness. It was foaming from the mouth by the time a driver reached it. ¡°Exhaustion,¡± the driver said, as the other caravaneers gathered around. Calls began rekindling for setting up camp and recovering. The Caravan Master, Manny Stillson, took time to listen to the calls, nodding with an empathetic expression. ¡°I hear ya, I hear ya!¡± Manny said, quieting down the drivers with his hands. ¡°We cannot continue, I agree. The pace is reckless.¡± It was then that Lieutenant Muleater reached the discussion, stomping towards them. ¡°Why¡¯re we stopping!¡± she barked. ¡°We¡¯ll be losing more than that if the godslovin jungleborn catch up with us.¡± ¡°Wyrkwik, Lieutenant,¡± the Alchemist said, joining the discussion with a condescending expression. ¡°Please. Jungleborn is far too vague.¡± She scoffed, ¡°Point stands. We need to keep pushing.¡± While the drivers quieted down, they looked at Manny Stillson with expectation, and he nearly buckled under Muleater¡¯s glare, but he managed to hold firm. ¡°It¡¯s simply impossible to keep pushing,¡± he said. Before Muleater could cut him off, he hurried onward, ¡°Unless you want us to end up stranded without a single meohr to our name!¡± She scoffed, ¡°You¡¯re overblowing it.¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s your¨Cour¨Cfears which are overblown.¡± Muleater spat, in a vulgar tone. ¡°If you shit in one hand and hope in another¨C¡± ¡°-crude, lieutenant," Manny said, shying away. Though the drivers seemed amused. ¡°Yeah?¡± Muleater asked. ¡°Well we¡¯ll see if you¡¯re changing your tune if the wyrkwik hit.¡± ¡°Please, Lieutenant,¡± Charson said. ¡°I find that incredibly unlikely.¡± In the end, the knights lost the argument. They might have threatened to continue on, but it would be pointless for them to abandon their charges, unless their fates were in mortal danger. And even then, I assumed it was their duty, or some such. As it was, so long as I avoided blame for the marathon the previous night, then I was satisfied, at least for the moment. And stopping to rest was not without benefits. It meant that the Kaivan and myself were finally allowed to stretch our legs. Though I was a bit disappointed when someone other than Kate arrived to take us for our ¡®walks.¡¯ So very dehumanizing. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with,¡± one of the knights said. I noticed a book was sticking up from out of his belt. I thought his name was Joel Warson. ¡°Just grab one,¡± the other said. It was the same one that Sir Kate had gone to spar with in the morning. A Ken Guardson, I thought, who was also Kate¡¯s uncle. Kissen shoved Larissen towards the door to go first, and the guard with the leash motioned for the feline to crouch down. After the leash was hooked to the collar, and the artificed key pulled away and handed to the other guard. The gate was opened, and the feline was let out. As soon as he was out, the gate was shut once more. If I could have used my Illusion, I might have made a run for it then and there. But then any future chances of escape would be spoiled, and I believed that future opportunities would be better. Besides, I still felt weak. And¡­ well, there was far too much humiliation present for me to think rationally. Plans forged with emotion always fail. ¡°About time,¡± Larissen muttered as he left. When he came back, Kissen wanted me to go next. However, I resisted that idea. Unlike me, they actually had basic biological needs to relieve. So instead, next after that went Issen, who required some help in getting down. Help which Ken scorned to give. Issen ended up stumbling when he reached the ground, nearly falling, and instead getting caught by his leash. ¡°Kunny,¡± Ken swore, giving the leash a tug. Issen coughed, but kept his eyes turned downward. Kissen went after that, and then finally, it was my turn. They motioned me forward, and I winced, but obliged all the same, duck walking to the exit. They fumbled the hook around my collar, pinching my skin. But soon, I was attached to two separate leashes, which seemed a bit much, and they dragged me out from the cage so that I could ¡®stretch¡¯ and ¡®do my business.¡¯ They let me set the pace, as though I was some pet on a leash. Disgusting. It left my blood boiling. But at the same time, I could not hope to escape. Or could I? ¡°Illusion.¡± I mouthed the word. Nothing happened. Whatever ¡®Seal¡¯ that my collar applied was still in effect. My priority in escaping needed to be removing the collar, first and foremost. Which meant I needed to find the key for it. But I had a plan for this. I stopped mid step on the way towards the cairn where the Kaiva had been taken to do their business. ¡°Is it possible for me to stretch my legs?¡± I asked politely and demurely. ¡°Hm?¡± Asked one of the guards, Joel Warson, the one with the book hooked into his belt. ¡°Aren¡¯t you already?¡± Ken Guardson scoffed and shook his head. ¡°Stop treatin¡¯ them like people, Warson.¡± This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°It seems an easy enough request, and it isn¡¯t our property.¡± ¡°-Ugh, no.¡± Ken snapped. ¡°And why not?!¡± Warson asked, glaring at Ken. Ken sneered, though it must have been difficult for Joel to see in the low light conditions. I wondered if the guards had some Marks to empower them and their perception? They must, if they were regularly up against enhanced enemies. That would be something to watch out for as I planned my escape.. ¡°-Just because the beast talks doesn¡¯t mean we should listen to it!¡± Ken snapped. I bit back the acerbic retort that I would have leveled at him; doing so would be counterproductive. ¡°Unlike some people, she is well-spoken,¡± Joel said. ¡°But that is not why I think we should.¡± He made a non-subtle glance to my arms and Ken rolled his eyes. While they argued back and forth, I continued stretching as much as I could with two leashes, and observed my surroundings. I bent low to touch my toes, and glanced under the caged wagon, where I had seen the guards pull leashes. I tried to spot anything that looked like a key for the collar, but I had been pretty out of it when the collar had gone on, and I had yet to see a collar come off, so I was unsure of exactly what the artificed key looked like. But that was besides the point; I was scouting out my situation, my surroundings, and gathering the details I would need to make a plan. Finally, the two guards wrapped up their argument. ¡°I still say it¡¯s a waste,¡± Ken argued. ¡°But clearly I won¡¯t convince you. Just let¡¯s get this done.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s.¡± Joel waved me forward, making it clear I had permission to walk, so long as it was within reason. I tried smiling as sweetly as I could, but the effect was lost with the muzzle, and Joel winced. ¡°Right.¡± I shrugged and took off walking around the perimeter, leading them, like a dog on a leash sniffing new scents at a park. Self disgust and dysmorphia struck once more, but I shoved them down, repressing brutally. If I were to win my freedom, I would need to learn every detail. As I searched for details, I started going just a little too fast, and Ken yanked the leash towards him, causing the collar to dig into the side of my throat and also leave me stumbling, almost falling to the ground. ¡°Really?¡± Joel asked, unimpressed. Ken shrugged, ¡°It was going to far.¡± Again, I buried my anger. I had suffered much in the past, and I would suffer much more in the future. What mattered was my immediate plans. We made it a quarter of the way around the circled wagons when I found the second thing I was looking for; the wagon I suspected they had stored my ¡®confiscated property.¡¯ I particularly noted that they failed to consider the property ¡®mine¡¯ as pets could not own property. The thought left me clenching my jaws. As we passed around the wagon, I saw a stack of crates and a chest locked between the crates and the front wall of the wagon. It had the same yellow-gray color as the guards¡¯ uniforms. That was likely it. Of course, I could not stop and stare. I continued my walk. But on the next wagon, something did draw my attention. But¡­ I had a difficult time understanding why or how. It almost felt like distress. But nobody was in distress, at least not that I could see, and it did not feel like a person in distress, but¡­ understanding this phenomenon began giving me a headache. Without realizing it, I paused. ¡°Done?¡± Joel asked. ¡°Sorry, not yet,¡± I said, forgetting my act as I took a few steps towards the wagon. The feeling of distress was definitely coming from the wagon, along with an almost-acerbic scent, and something else. It grew stronger with each step I took. The leashes began to go taut. And then I was intercepted by the man wearing a half-mask and hood. ¡°What are you doing?¡± asked the Apprentice Alchemist, Charson. Joel glanced towards Ken, but Ken merely answered both of them with a glare. ¡°We were just finishing,¡± Ken said. ¡°Finishing what?¡± Charson asked. ¡°Why are you here with¡­ this?¡± he waved a hand at me. Despite his partially pleasant tone, the edge of wariness and fear leaked into his voice. And he also felt ¡®distressed,¡¯ but it was a different flavor from that which came from the wagon. I also noticed that he kept one hand on his bandolier of glowing vials. If those were weaponized flasks, then it left me wondering why? Why was he acting this way? At least a dozen people had been around this wagon throughout the course of the day, including the other merchants storing their wares alongside his. Why now? ¡°We allow the beast-kin to stretch their legs once a day on trips that span over a week,¡± Joel explained. ¡°That may be within your purview,¡± Charson admitted, ¡°But I have yet to see any of the other animals brought this way. I also notice that this creature behaves differently from the rest. Are we certain the creature is safe? Or has the creature manipulated the situation to benefit an unknown entity? It is curious. And curiosities are dangerous, no?¡± ¡°Are you implying we cannot keep you or your wares safe?¡± Ken bit out, almost growling. ¡°Hardly!¡± Charson protested. ¡°Not at all.¡± ¡°It sounds like you are.¡± ¡°Merely cautious¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Joel said, nudging Ken. ¡°I¡¯m sure that Alchemist Charson meant nothing by it¨C¡± ¡°-Apprentice Alchemist¨C¡± Ken corrected, scowling. ¡°-and we should be returning now anyways,¡± Joel continued. He made a half bow to Charson, ¡°If you have any further concerns, the lieutenant will be sure to listen.¡± Ken scoffed. Charson grimaced at the mention of the lieutenant. I realized belatedly that Joel and Ken were naturally falling into a familiar routine meant to either interrogate prisoners or avoid unpleasantness in general. It was ingenious, and while earlier I had thought Ken to be naturally mean-spirited and short tempered, I now revised my opinion. Either it was an act, or Joel turned Ken¡¯s sour disposition into something useful. Joel began pulling me backwards, far more gently than Ken would have, and I gave up examining the wagon¡¯s wares. Though my eyes naturally landed on one crate in particular that I thought might have vibrated, just ever so slightly, and rattled. I had one last glance of that, and Charson¡¯s frown before I turned and left, following both guards as they led me by the leashes back to the prisoner wagon. The encroaching migraine I felt, and the leashes, caused me to miss several steps. I stumbled into Ken. He snarled and shoved me back, and Joel reached out to steady me. ¡°Easy there,¡± Joel said. While we were approaching, I overheard a hushed conversation between Larissen and Kissen in the cage. I would have rather heard nothing, with the pounding cramping headache, but heard it nonetheless I did. ¡°-cannot replace your kit!¡± Larissen scolded in a hissed whisper. ¡°This One knows!¡± Kissen responded in a louder hiss. ¡°The idea insults her memory. This One is insulted!¡± ¡°Could have fooled my senses,¡± Larissen said. ¡°The young one will lead to trouble. Her marks¨Cthe Furless will not¨Ccannot¨C¡± he yowled and hissed in pain. We were close enough now that we could see them. He was clutching his face. Kissen spat. ¡°Quiet down,¡± Joel said, wrapping the metal handle of the leash against the cage. ¡°People are resting.¡± Ken scoffed. ¡°Some of us actually worked today.¡± Kissen did not rise to the challenge. But Joel did. ¡°I feel that they would gladly work, if it meant leaving their cage.¡± Larissen put a clawed hand on Kissen¡¯s shoulder, squeezing it just enough to draw her ire. Her green eyes had almost been glowing balefully at Ken. Ken unlocked the prison door, Joel ¡®helped¡¯ me climb in, the door was closed and locked, and the leashes were removed. Each additional sound caused my headache to worsen. Green blackness scintillated around the edges of my vision, and I smelled ¡®colors¡¯ while feeling ¡®taste.¡¯ It was reminiscent of when I had learned new languages in the past, but my magic was blocked away by the collar, or Sealed. At least, that had been my assumption. My Marks felt normal, without the burning sensation I had associated with growth in the past. This was unusual. Just when I thought I had things figured out, the rules changed. I hated it. Kissen sensed my distress and helped me curl up on a cleaner spot of the floor, while she rubbed my back, her claws tracing patterns down my skin, through the fur. If not for that distraction, I likely would have found no rest that night. Ingestion 1.5.6.2 My slumber, as restless as it was, had been interrupted that night, when Muleater insisted that the caravan depart once more. I had to acknowledge the lieutenant''s perseverance. Whatever these wyrkwik were, she truly registered them as a threat. Naturally, the argument came when all of the caravan¡¯s civilians protested, the caravan master most vocally of all. ¡°It simply does not make sense!¡± Caravan Master Stillson insisted. ¡°We¡¯ve seen no evidence of those dreadful creatures, and the only contrary evidence you¡¯ve had is the word of a beast, and one that¡¯s not even ours! We literally found it on the side of the road! Why should we risk our necks on this alone? Please, be reasonable.¡± ¡°Well maybe so,¡± Muleater said. ¡°But see, I did my own research on your little outfit when my niece came back with a contract. It seems you¡¯ve had run-ins with the creatures before. Now, I don¡¯t know how it¡¯s done in the Caravaneer¡¯s Guild, but in the Low Guard, it sounds pretty coincidental that the first we hear of them north of the chasm is when we¡¯re traveling with you.¡± ¡°And whose fault would it be if they made it across the bridge?¡± Stillson shot back, evermor irritation thick on his voice. ¡°Surely you would never imply that your order would fail to keep the bridge clear.¡± ¡°Nice try guilting me,¡± Muleater said wryly. ¡°But that¡¯s my sister¡¯s job. Besides, that¡¯s neither here nor now. If the wyrkwik are nearby, then we need reinforcements, and fast¨Cgods¨Cwe need to sound an alarm before they get themselves established!¡± ¡°Everyday this journey continues, I am reminded again and again of one thing,¡± Stillson complained. ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°That I should have paid for actual mercenaries!¡± Muleater barked a mean sounding laugh. ¡°Would that you did. But they wouldn¡¯t give you a contract, would they?¡± Muleater said, theatrically tapping her chin. ¡°And I wonder why.¡± ¡°Yes, I wonder,¡± Stillson said with a dejected tone, crossing his arms. ¡°But regardless of what you wish, it¡¯s simply not possible for us to press any further. The animals are still exhausted, the lanterns have limited fuel, and we¡¯re still resting from the slog of a marathon you enforced on us last night and this morning! We simply cannot.¡± ¡°Gargh!¡± Muleater through her arms and gave an exasperated growl. ¡°If we were closer to Southbridge, I would have turned us around.¡± ¡°Bah,¡± the merchant spat, giving up some of his sophistication. ¡°And forfeit the contract?¡± ¡°Godslickin contract!¡± Muleater shouted. ¡°Some things are worth more than a few baubles. Not that you¡¯d know, merchant.¡± She emphasized merchant as though it were a filthy word. ¡°There¡¯s nothing more important,¡± Stillson said. ¡°Not to a caravaneer, anyways.¡± Muleater scoffed. Both of them came to an impasse, glaring at each other. While Muleater glowered, eventually, after Stillson refused to budge, she let out a groan, seeming to deflate. ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s wait for the scouts to return then. But if there¡¯s any evidence we were followed, then you had better be prepared to haul.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Stillson said. ¡°If. If there is evidence¡­¡± I drifted back to sleep, Kissen still humming and running her claws down my scalp. Once more, I was pulled from my slumber, along with a vague sense of distress. I thought I caught a whiff of an acerbic scent. I felt the color ¡®orange.¡¯ It was nothing conclusive, but an almost-perception. Just on the verge of what I could define. Like an object always just out of view. Even more strange, the fact that I felt as though I were eavesdropping, but not with my ears. It was layered over reality, not quite there. It was¡­ strange. And how these faint, vague, and ill defined feelings were enough to wake me up, I was still unsure. I had theories, but I lacked any way of testing them. That was, at least, until the caravan started moving and Kissen stirred awake. ¡°Do you smell anything¡­ strange?¡± I asked her. She chuffed in amusement. ¡°This One just opened her eyes. What scent should be caught, except that of beasts and their waste?¡± The way her eyes flicked over the humans, I knew she was not considering us in the term ¡®beasts.¡¯ ¡°It¡­¡± I struggled to find the description. She paused, her eyes turning curious, considering. ¡°What does this scent taste of?¡± ¡°That¡¯s the thing. It¡¯s almost at the tip of my tongue, but I can¡¯t really describe it. Maybe bitter? With a hint of sour? But that is not quite it either¡­¡± I trailed off, flailing at words to help her figure out what it was I was smelling. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Kissen dramatically lifted air to her nostrils and inhaled in quick short breaths. She held that pose for several seconds, closing her eyes and scrunching her nose, leaving her canines showing in just a hint of a snarl. Then she snarled. She hissed and swatted both Larissen and Lorissen to wake them. ¡°...what has Kitten caused now?¡± Larissen asked while Issen coughed and cleared his lungs. ¡°Kitten was not the cause of this,¡± Kissen hissed. ¡°Does Hysobla also invade your nostrils?¡± ¡°Hysobla?¡± I asked, while both males frowned, and Larissen began to repeat the same motions Kissen had implemented. ¡°A fragrance of the jungles,¡± Kissen answered, hushing me by answering my question. Larissen frowned, then nodded. ¡°Perhaps a merchant trades the ware?¡± ¡°Would this not have been noticed before?¡± Kissen asked. Larissen shrugged, but he did not put his heart into the motion. ¡°There is much unknown. Assumptions are unwise.¡± If Hysbola was a fragrance of the jungles, which I took to mean that it was a spice commonly found to the south, then I would not be surprised if a caravan was trading it and carrying it north. However, it was curious that we never noticed this previous, not that this curiosity proved anything. It was just that, a curiosity. In fact, I was unsure that this Hysbola was even what I had smelled or felt. How would a spice cause me alarm? ¡°Does this Hysbola cause strange feelings as well?¡± I asked. I was beginning to suspect that Hysbola was actually a drug, and that maybe I lacked a tolerance against it, or was sensitive, or had been exposed against its source, and I could think of a few places that could have happened. ¡°Describe,¡± Kissen commanded. ¡°Can this one not rest?!¡± Issen groaned. Kissen chuffed, but refused to let the question go unanswered. She held me firm by my shoulders, I could feel her attention upon me, even though I was facing away. ¡°Please, describe. This is of immediate import.¡± Her focus left the hair standing on my back. My tail stilled. I worked my tongue for just a bit, gathering the description, which I still had yet to fully understand myself, and I was the one who had been feeling it. ¡°Your questions have frightened Kitten,¡± Larissen grumbled. Kissen started to growl, but I hurried to answer her and cut off the argument before it could grow out of hand and draw the guards¡¯ attention to us. ¡°I¡¯m¨Cthis one¨Cis not frightened, but I¡¯m struggling to think of how to explain this.¡± ¡°With words,¡± Lorissen said humorously, before coughing. ¡°Right. Well¡­ this will sound strange, but when I smell it, I think I¡¯m feeling the color orange on my skin, and I¡¯m picking up an incredible sense of unease and distress.¡± ¡°Is it your Marks?¡± Larissen asked. ¡°No,¡± I said. I almost gave more away, about how I lacked any glyphs like that, but I was unsure if people could read glyphs like I could, considering I had a seemingly supernatural ability to comprehend language. I also almost name dropped ¡®Talents¡¯ or ¡®Skills,¡¯ which, again, I was unsure about how commonplace either was. ¡°Mikuya were seen,¡± Kissen stated. ¡°And the Furless seem ill at ease. Perhaps the scouts found evidence?¡± Mikuya. Wyrkwik. Jungleborn. That made sense. If they were close enough or upwind, we might have picked up their scent. Although, I had not realized that their scent caused these other, secondary symptoms. If they were releasing a chemical or pheromone as an attack? A possibility. What actions would I take? They had multiple chances to attack me, yet they did not. And while that was no evidence that they would continue doing so, it did imply they valued my survival, if for some unknown reason. The vegetal meohr I had seen yesterday had almost seemed to be waving at me. That would not be classically considered a hostile action. While I still had doubts, I decided how I would handle this. ¡°Should the Qari be alerted?¡± Larissen asked. Kissen frowned. Issen coughed. I shook my head. ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°They should not.¡± ¡°Why?¡± Kissen asked me. ¡°If the mikuya attack, the humans would be our only defense.¡± ¡°If the Jungleborn attack them, then that is their problem,¡± I answered. ¡°And ours once our cage is left undefended.¡± ¡°We could always use the chaos as an opportunity to escape.¡± Issen spat. ¡°And go where? How is escape even possible?¡± ¡°Do not underestimate me,¡± I said, perhaps too coldly. Kissen arched an eyebrow and her whiskers quivered. I added, ¡°Besides, the Jungleborn did not seem hostile, at least to me.¡± ¡°Kitten does not know mikuya,¡± Larissen said. ¡°Kitten does not,¡± Kissen agreed. She saw my confusion, so she explained: ¡°Mikuya only care for themselves. All creatures are wise to avoid them.¡± The mikuya did not strike me that way. It turned out to have been a moot point anyways. An hour after dawn saw us miles along the road, with the mules pulling the wagons at a brisk walking speed. The Kaiva did not speak much, but Kissen kept near me, and she kept her ears sharp. Occasionally, she would wrinkle her nose in displeasure. I had smelled it too. ¡°This is not Hysbola,¡± Larissen said. Whatever the scent was coming from, it smelled alert and dangerous. A sourness that invaded my nostrils and left the back of my tongue tingling. It was getting stronger. ¡°No, not Hysbola,¡± Kissen agreed. Her voice sounded grim. ¡°It smells hurt,¡± I said. The Kaiva exchanged uneasy glances, and Kissen motioned for me to sit next to her, against the back of the cage where we had one solid wall from the wagon itself. After I settled in, the two males went to either side of us, even the sick and weak Issen; they blocked Kissen and I in, almost shielding us, at least as much as possible. ¡°A precaution,¡± Kissen explained. Her voice was strained. Thirty minutes later, a call of alarm went out and the wagons jolted, several stopping which caused the rest to stop. The drivers shouted. ¡°Circle up, circle up!¡± Caravan Master Stillson bellowed. ¡°Don¡¯t just gawk! Circle up you! Guards! You better earn your pay!¡± ¡°Gods take it!¡± Muleater shouted back. ¡°I told you! I godslickin told you!¡± Ingestion 1.5.7 A lot of things happened at once. Were it not for my enhanced hearing, I likely would have missed a lot of it. But between my genius and my hearing, I was able to infer a lot¡­ of what was happening, for lack of a better term. In short, it appeared one of the scouts had returned with dire news. The guards were responding as they found appropriate, and I learned much from my observations. For one, I continued studying Lieutenant Muleater, for her character appeared far more mercurial than I would have otherwise expected. In some instances, she appeared merry and lighthearted, but in others, she acted cross and threatening. I was certain I could identify a pattern, if I¨C I cut my own musings short. There were more important things to focus on, currently. Such as my escape. ¡°Sweords on me!¡± Muleater shouted at the same time. ¡°Strayls, find your vantages!¡± Sir Kate headed towards Muleater with a determined step, but she was intercepted by Gregory. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Gregory asked, his voice shaky with fear. ¡°Don¡¯t know,¡± Sir Kate said, already stepping around him. ¡°But I¡¯m about to find out. You remember what to do if we get attacked?¡± Kate almost sounded concerned, but mostly impatient. I had long since wondered why Gregory sought Kate out for friendship, and I had long since concluded that he was infatuated with the girl. It seemed that the feelings were largely unreturned. ¡°Not really?¡± Gregory said, chuckling nervously. ¡°Nobody ever really went over what¨C¡± ¡°-Just stick with the other civies,¡± Kate cut him off. ¡°It¡¯ll be fine.¡± She never stopped moving during that entire conversation, and she left him behind without pausing. He was left staring after her, with a confused expression. The caravan master walked by him and clapped him on his shoulder before drawing him towards where the meohrs had been led. The meohrs, who I had also heard called ¡®mules,¡¯ were set in a circumference perimeter inside the outer ring made by the wagons. The rest of the non-combatants awaited within the inner perimeter formed by the meohrs¨Cit appeared the meohrs were a last form of defense, or a distraction, should attackers breach the wagons. Things grew too hectic for me to pick up on individual conversations, but two guards with crossbows were setting up on top of wagons, while the rest of the guards stood with Muleater, near the mules. It occurred to me that her last name might not have been a coincidence. Though none of the ¡®mules¡¯ looked particularly concerned around her. Issen hissed, ¡°Switch with me, Larissen.¡± He crawled over, coughing only once, as he went to the outside wall of the wagon, facing the wastes. ¡°That¨Cthat¡¯s the direction they may come from!¡± Larissen protested. ¡°Surely this one should take the most dangerous position¡­¡± At the same time, Kissen protested as well, ¡°Brother! Not with that poor health. Please be reasonable.¡± Issen snarled, collapsing halfway atop of myself and Kissen, but mostly landing on the side of the cage facing the wastes. ¡°This is because of my ill health!¡± he said. ¡°But the eldest deserves¨C¡± Larissen began to protest. ¡°-If this one is eldest then listen to him!¡± Issen hissed. The argument left Issen exhausted, coughing wetly, and producing a wet smear on his fur. ¡°All the more reason not to switch¡­¡± Kissen grumbled, though the protestations were dying down as the humans prepared themselves for combat. Issen finished crawling over us, curling in upon himself, between Kissen and I, and the wastes. ¡°Probably for naught, anyways¡­¡± Larissen grumbled under his breath. ¡°No mikuya travel these lands.¡± ¡°Perhaps,¡± Kissen said half heartedly, still watching Issen with much concern. Minutes passed in terse silence, with minute fluctuations in the scent. It would oscillate in strength without correlating to the wind, which either meant the sources were moving, or that the emissions were variable. The scent itself changed as well, though the changes were always subtle. As I focused on them, I noticed that same headache reforming, along with a splitting headache. However, my ¡®Marks,¡¯ or rather tattoos, failed to change, unlike previous times I had been oppressed by headaches. ¡°This one wonders when the humans will grow bored,¡± Larissen said, chuffing as he watched the humans stand guard with weapons ready. ¡°This one wonders if their swords will rust first.¡± He sounded impatient, but I assumed it was his way of easing his nerves. Kissen growled and swiped his shoulder. Her attack lacked strength, but her claws still left faint trails of blood. It did not appear the start of aggression, but rather that of chiding. ¡°What?¡± Larissen asked, annoyed, rubbing at the scratches. ¡°Impatient for more slavery, or impatient for battle?¡± she asked him, inferring that it was he himself who was bored. ¡°Neither,¡± Larissen scoffed. ¡°Impatient to watch the Furless suffer. Impatient for your Kitten to aid in our escape.¡± I was surprised to hear him speak of my upcoming plans to escape, especially as I had yet to vocalize them. But then, perhaps some of my preparations had not gone unnoticed. We did share tight confines, I justified. I was about to respond, when Muleater''s voice rang out an alarm. ¡°East, South-East!¡± Muleater shouted. ¡°Call ¡®em as you see ¡®em!¡± The ¡®sweords¡¯ as Muleater called them headed in the opposite direction of the prison-cart, so our vision was limited. They passed between two wagons, and one of them shouted. There was a meaty thunk. There was a twang and a clank as a crossbow fired and was reloaded. ¡°How many?!¡± a man shouted, I thought it might have been Ken. ¡°Too many!¡± Muleater shouted. Followed by, ¡°Aim for the flowers atop their heads!¡± All three Kaiva siblings were engrossed with watching the battle. Having heard the advice, Larissen scoffed, ¡°Fools.¡± I glanced his way questioningly, but it was Kissen who answered. ¡°The flowers are often decorative, not purposeful.¡± ¡°Fire or alchemics, not crossbows,¡± Larissen added. ¡°Aim for the flowers¨C¡± he mocked ¡°-dumb Qari.¡± The mikuya, also known as the wyrkwik, and also known as the jungleborn (my headache had yet to improve), appeared as animated plant matter, or vine infested creatures. I was eager to see one up close, while I was in an appropriate state of mind. I went to move forward and to the side, so that I could get a better view of the fight, or where the crossbowmen were at least, but Kissen pulled me back with an arm around my side. ¡°Do not take risks needlessly,¡± Kissen reprimanded me. I was thankful that she chose not to use her claws while scolding me. But perhaps, her abuse was reserved for her brother. As she pulled me back, I did resist slightly. ¡°Is it really a risk, though?¡± I asked. ¡°Either the humans will win, or, or they will not. I don¡¯t see how these open bars will offer much protection if they lose. They could almost reach through and grab us. Even with Larissen and Issen on the sides.¡± Despite the poor attempts at chivalry from the brothers, I had no misconceptions about our safety here. Anyone could reach in with a sword or stick even and hit us. We were vulnerable so long as we stayed in the cage. ¡°Do these ones have an alternative?¡± Larissen asked. ¡°Do not mock us for the decisions these ones can choose. There is little else left.¡± He must have caught onto my disdain for his and Issen¡¯s protective measures. But while he might have asked that question rhetorically, I did, in fact, have an alternative to propose. ¡°Escape,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s what we¨Cthese ones¨Cshould focus on. This cage offers no protection.¡± ¡°Not that this one disagrees,¡± Kissen said, ¡°But who could these ones escape this cage?¡± That was a good question, and one I had been wondering myself. I no longer had my lockpicks since they were in my jacket. But the night before, I had managed to collect a piece of thin scrap metal that had fallen onto the road, perhaps an old nail that had vibrated loose from a wagon long ago. The metal itself had been rusted, but thin enough that I could work it with my claws by tracing over them again and again. It was a far cry from my own set, but it was usable in a pinch. The question now, was one of timing. A cry of pain sounded from combat happening on the far side of the wagons. I tried to match the voice to the guards I knew. It might have been Joel Warson, but it was hard to tell. From the center of the wagons, one of the merchants whimpered, while others spoke in hushed tones. But not the Alchemist Charson. ¡°If these guards cannot defend us, then why did we hire them!¡± Charson demanded angrily, speaking to no one in particular. Those next to him made some distance, as though worried he would draw the ire of the enemy with his voice. And he might have, for as much as I knew. The mikuya were still largely creatures unknown. ¡°Oh don¡¯t give me that!¡± He scolded those nearby. ¡°I could have dealt with the threat easily by now.¡± ¡°Then why don¡¯t you?¡± one of the drivers asked. ¡°Why should I?¡± Charson asked testily. ¡°Do you know how much alchemicals cost? Would you want to reimburse me for it?¡± ¡°Might be expensive,¡± the driver said, ¡°but beats getting killed.¡± Charson sniffed derisively at the driver. ¡°If it¡¯s you doing it? Then hardly.¡± ¡°Gentlemen!¡± The caravan master, Manny Stillson, came between them. ¡°I am sure that Apprentice Alchemist Charson will do his utmost if required. Just as I¡¯m sure that my employees will conduct themselves appropriately¨C¡± The driver scoffed. Charson did not appear persuaded, and crossed his arms while scowling in the direction of the fight. Another cry of pain came from the combat. The acrid scent on the air developed a sweet hint for several seconds, before returning to the aggressive bitter notes. ¡°There¡¯s too many!¡± Ken¡¯s voice shouted, from the other side of the wagons. I could not see what was happening, but I could infer. ¡°Fall back!¡± Muleater ordered. Less guards filtered back between the gaps in the wagons than had gone out in the first place. ¡°Take the gaps. Watch below! Strayls, keep ¡®em from flanking!¡± Among the survivors, there was Sir Kate, Ken, and a few others. I failed to see Joel. I could not help but wonder if the mikuya had gotten him. Then another cry sounded, from a crossbowman on the crates near or side. ¡°They¡¯re coming around!¡± a strayl shouted. There was a twang as his crossbow shot off. He must have missed; the bolt skidded off rocks and clattered along the ground. ¡°Need some sweords here!¡± A green head poked through a gap in the wagons near the crossbowman who had missed. A cat, the size of a jaguar, prowled into the clearing. It was covered in clovers and vines, and what flesh it had appeared gray and mottled, mixed with small fibrous roots seemingly holding it all together. Its eyes had been replaced with green orbs flickering like flames inside its head. White and pink flowers had sprouted from its neck and torso, almost a floral mane. The way it languorously entered the clearing, it was making its challenge to the guard clear. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Another twang. The opposite strayl let loose a bolt. It whizzed through the clearing, over the heads of the mules, and slammed through the beast¡¯s shoulder. Sap oozed from where the bolt embedded, and the cat recoiled slightly, but otherwise failed to react. While the strayl across from us was focused on the cat, a large green snout pushed up and over the far side of the wagon where he was perched. I opened my mouth, almost to shout a warning, but then I remembered that these were my captors, and my teeth clicked together. A paw reached over the crates and swiped the strayl. He screamed and rolled. He tried shooting back at the bear, and maybe he hit it, maybe not, but either way, the bear kept on coming. A paw hooked its claws into the man¡¯s midsection and hauled him off the crates, back towards the farside, near where the ¡®sweords¡¯ had abandoned the fight. Sir Kate came running towards the moss-lion, almost seeming to flash through the air at supernatural speeds. I found it hard to follow her, just barely catching her afterimage as she pushed through the mules and engaged the beast. Her sword lashed out just as the moss-lion pounced. She feinted into a side pass. The moss-lion kept going. Gray sap flew out in a trail as she danced by. The moss-tiger landed and turned, its injured side hanging lower. It opened its maw, looking as if it was miming a roar, but no sound came out. That acrid stench wafted off the beast, almost visible as a putrid cloud; strangely I felt myself longing to help the creature. But Sir Kate found no pity for the creature, making every step flow into the next, like a flowing river, graceful yet inevitable. While Sir Kate continued her butchery, the rest of the guards were failing to stem the mikuya tide. Creatures, some gnolls, some rodents, all composed of seemingly rotten flesh and vines, poured in through the gaps in the wagons, and for the rodents, under the wagons, and began harrying the mules. Strangely, they did not murder the mules. But they did hamstring them. The meohrs bellowed piteously, yet collapsing upon the ground passively and offering no resistance. Then, the first of the mikuya reached the civies cowering at the center of the camp. Loudest among these was Alchemist Charson. ¡°Incompetence!¡± he shouted. He was hidden behind the collapsing meohrs, so I had no way to see what he did. But I felt the results. A wave of dry heat pushed over me, and one of the wagons caught flame. ¡°Hey!¡± The same driver from previous shouted, voice laden with panic. He was facing towards Charson. While I was unsure what the driver¡¯s motives were, they were apparently not to Charson¡¯s liking. Charson held a vial overhead, causing the driver to stumble back, trip, and land in the loving embrace of a mikuya. The driver thrashed and screamed as the creature fell upon him. It avoiding killing the driver, but instead slashed ligaments to disable, before dragging the screaming pleading crying driver back beyond the encirclement. Meanwhile, Charson threw the vial. It glinted through the air, caught the light and shone an opaque orange, before crashing down on the ground besides the driver and gnoll. Orange gas expanded out from the broken vial in a hiss, soon becoming a cloud, surrounding the driver and creature alike. The driver¡¯s screams intensified before ceasing. The cloud grew a bit further, reaching the edge of the wagon that I suspected held my jacket. The wind dispersed the cloud some, but not by much. The gas acted heavier than it appeared. ¡°Regroup with the civies!¡± Muleater shouted, bringing Ken with her as she drew closer to the middle, striking down every creature that came close. Sir Kate finished dismantling the moss-lion and headed towards the center as well. Moans of pain, cries, and sobs sounded throughout the clearing. It was a complete rout. The wind shifted, and the heavy cloud began rolling towards us and several mules. A few wisps of the orange gas wafted onto the closest meohr, causing its distressed and pained moans to increase in volume before coming to a ragged conclusion. It was not just a complete rout, it was chaos, and that fog seemed the worst of all. ¡°I think it¡¯s time to go,¡± I said, breaking myself and the Kaiva from the reverie. We had been idling, watching the conflict previously. But with the chaos, and with that fog spreading out, the time for observation had come to an end. I pulled away from Kissen and approached the front of the cage, towards the locked gate. ¡°The problem is the same as before!¡± Larissen said. ¡°How?¡± I pulled the crude lockpick and torque I had made by bending and carving the rusty nail. Larisse scoffed at my makeshift lockpick. ¡°This one has doubts,¡± he said. Rather than pointing out his lack of constructive criticism, I tuned him out, getting to work on the lock. Meanwhile, Kissen was watching the orange smoke crawl across the ground, almost forming fingers as it brushed against wood and the fallen. The mikuya avoided it, giving the fighters in the center a secure side they could put their backs against. I even heard Muleater demanding the Apprentice Alchemist to use more of whatever that gaseous Geneva violation was. ¡°The keys to our collars, though?¡± Kissen asked. The humans had failed to leash us prior to the encounter, but our collars remained in place, and mine in particular had sealed away my Talents and Blessings. So it made sense that she asked that. But¡­ no, I did not have the key to the collars, unfortunately. I avoided answering verbally, still struggling to make the shoddy lockpick work. The lock itself was not overly complicated, thank mother, but the angle was awkward as I had to reach around and pick it blind. The pins were heavy and loose, and the torque was a bit too thin and risked stripping the sides of the lock. If the torque came loose, then the pins would fall back out and I would have to start over. Forty-three seconds. That was how long it took me to unlock it, at least once the Kaiva stopped distracting me. The time was not my personal best, but I felt there were justifiably extenuating circumstances. The padlock clanked open, I twisted it off, and the gate swung open. I jumped down and motioned for the others to follow. ¡°Impressive,¡± Larissen said as he and his sister helped Issen to the exit and then to step off the platform. ¡°Keep it down,¡± I mouthed, hardly a whisper. I knew the cats could hear me. Now that we were out in the open, any of the mikuya could come across us. We needed to get distance between us and this mess, and preferably without alerting any potential enemies along the way. ¡°But the key?¡± Larissen demanded. ¡°It is required! These ones cannot leave with the collars!¡± At least he had kept his voice down when he spoke. I doubted anyone would have heard him over the sobbing panic and pain happening within twenty yards of us. ¡°There is no time,¡± I said. The chaos had begun to get to me. ¡°We can try to find it, but¡­¡± I waved off towards the melee, and towards the horrific alchemical fog. ¡°...how?¡± ¡°It may be difficult, but what will be our chances with these, Kitten?¡± Kissen asked, flicking her collar, then my own. ¡°The wilderness is not friendly, even less so to those crippled.¡± ¡°The key was probably with the guards,¡± I said, trying to reason with them. ¡°Which means somewhere in there.¡± I pointed once more at the gas cloud. ¡°We won¡¯t be able to stick around to find it.¡± Though, they did have a point. I would very much like my collar removed as well. It was just a matter of impossible logistics. Issen coughed and exchanged a look with his siblings. An unspoken communication. One that I was not privy to. ¡°No,¡± Kissen hissed. These cats were going to get us caught by the maybe hostile but certainly not harmless mikuya. And if not that, the humans. And if not that, the alchemical gas! ¡°This sickness¨C¡± Issen coughed again, wetter this time. The air quality might have been irritating his throat ¡°-kills. Just as your daughter. All here know it.¡± Except for me, I did not know it, nor exactly what his sickness was. But I did know one thing, if these Kaiva were going to stand around chatting, then there was something I needed to get. I crouched and snuck around the outside of the prison wagon, well outside of the fog as I started making my way around the perimeter. Kissen caught up with me. ¡°Kitten,¡± she said, a warning in her voice. I paused, looking over my shoulder and holding her eye. She glanced back to where she had left her brothers then back at me. She finally sighed, ¡°Be careful,¡± she finished, before heading back to where she left them. ¡°Will do,¡± I mouthed, more to myself than her. I had cleared the prison wagon, when a moss-meohr came around from the opposite side, looking over the crates and almost sniffing. Or pantomiming sniffing. From what I had seen so far, I doubted these creatures required breathing. To my left, between the prison wagon and the next wagon in the circle, there was a gap, and through that gap I could see naught through the cloud of orange fog. I did see plenty of evidence of its passage though, from the corroded wood and melted drippings on the ground. It was nasty stuff. The wagon ahead was the one that was interesting to me, and the wagon ahead of that had the moss-bear. I ignored it for now, instead running along the wagon I was interested in, and then finding the chest with the guard¡¯s markings. The chest was lodged tightly between a crate and the front wall of the wagon. While I could not be certain what I wanted was in there, I had a strong suspicion it was. Unfortunately, I could not open it without freeing it. I grabbed a handle on my side and pulled as hard as I could. It scraped along the wood for half an inch tops, before getting stopped by friction. I pulled again. This time I got it to move a quarter of an inch. On a third try, I failed to budge it. It was jammed in, stuck. I almost let my anger get the best of me, but I needed to think this through. On one side, was an immobile wooden wall that extended a yard above the wagon floor. On the other side, three crates had been set side by side, with two more stacked on top of that. Since there was no way I could move the wagon wall, then I would need to move the crates. I jumped up the side of the wagon. From the height, I saw a blood smear on the crates where a strayl had been, emphasis on the past tense. From the vantage, I could also see over parts of the orange fog. All of the mules had fallen, along with most of the drivers. Several merchants huddled around Charson, offering him their life savings to save them. Even Charson looked grim, though I could only see half his face with his mask on. Sir Kate and Muleater were fighting off another wave of mikuya, and judging by the corpses around them, this was not the first wave they had stopped. After Sir Kate finished slaying a moss-bear, she looked up and her eyes met mine. Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened to yell something, before Muleater reprimanded her and redirected her attention back towards the mikuya continuing their assault. I ducked back down, just in case one of them had a ranged weapon, and I started pushing the crates off. The top crates went over the side easily. The bottom ones were wedged tight. This was continuing to grow more and more frustrating! I looked around for anything I could use for leverage, when the moss-bear snuffled up to the wagon beside me. While standing on all fours, it was tall enough that its head was on level with the crates. It looked at me. And I got a look at it. Maybe too good of a look. The moss-meohr looked like it might have been a grizzly at some point, but not anymore. It had no fur. What skin was showing was gray with splotches of black and a waxy yellow. Tendrils and vines weaved in and out of its skin, forming a mesh of plant growth. Where it had several sores, miniature, almost microscopic tendrils, writhed around and grabbed each other, pinching the flesh shut. Its teeth looked metallic. Its gums green and yellow. It did not seem to breathe. Its eyes were missing, instead its eye sockets were filled with orbs of sickly flame. The only redeeming part of this creature was the large pink rose flower sprouting from its forehead. It chuffed. I might not have needed to breathe, but it appeared that it still could choose to do so. Without any other way to respond, I waved at it, tentatively. It chuffed again. It pushed its gigantic snout into my waist, pushing me back against the crate so that I landed on my rear. Not aggressive, but far too close for comfort. It refused to back off though. It put its front paws on the edge of the wagon and lifted its head up and over me. It looked down at me. Yellow acrid sweet green¨Cmy head hurt, ached, the migraine was coming back. The moss-meohr was still looking down at me. I was out of options. Its teeth were the size of my thumb. My ears lay flat against my skull. It waited. For what, I did not know. But it looked heavy, strong, and perhaps non-aggressive, at least towards me, for whatever reason. Going out on a limb, I reached up and patted the side of its head. It leaned into my hand, just a bit. ¡°Mind helping me out?¡± I asked. I felt something else going on, the scent of smell and the feeling of color shifted just slightly, and I could almost, just almost, understand something more, like an object hovering just beyond the edge of my awareness and taunting me from my peripherals. It pulled back and continued staring. I got those strange scent feelings again, though they were difficult to interpret. The creature seemed confused? I was uncertain. How to convey something more complicated. I rolled back down, off the wagon, and grabbed the chest by the side, pulling at it again. The moss-meohr made an unclear sound, clicking its jaws. ¡°A little help pulling this loose?¡± I asked. It chuffed, then nudged me to the side with its snout, before reaching over with its claws and shoving them into the top of the chest, as though it were butter. The moss-meohr scraped it along the bottom of the wagon before shoving the crates less than an inch to the side to gain some clearance, before pulling the chest up off the wagon. As it was traveling over the side, it broke open, dropping several items, but most importantly my clothes and jacket. ¡°Thanks!¡± I said, before quickly getting dressed. I could have grabbed them and run back to the cats, but then I would get stuck holding an awkward arm load while we navigated treacherous terrain. I decided that taking an extra minute to get changed would be a minimal additional risk. While I was getting dressed, the moss-meohr ambled off, back the way it came. As soon as it left, Kissen and Larrissen ran over. I noticed immediately that they were missing their collars, and missing Issen as well. Kissen held the artificed key in her hand, she approached as I finished sliding my cargo pants on. I threw on my tattered tank top next. ¡°Issen?¡± I asked. Kissen shook her head sadly. ¡°My brother insisted on retrieving this key. His sacrifice will always be in my thoughts.¡± Larissen bowed his head in respect for two seconds. Kissen brought the key up to my own collar and clicked it open. My collar dropped to the ground. A revitalizing wave of strength and energy swept through me. My migraine decreased, my muscles felt fuller, my skin tighter. The air thicker, tastier. My fur, lusher. The world became clear, though I could not put my finger on any single sense. Everything improved. I¡­ I had not realized how much I had been relying upon my marks. Even my hunger had dissipated some. While I would have taken time to marvel, we were pressed for time. I holstered my knife on my thigh. I quickly donned my leather jacket. Kissen observed my clothing with a curious expression before shaking her head. ¡°The mikuya overwhelm the furless, and soon danger will give chase. Is Kitten ready to depart?¡± I climbed back to my feet and nodded. We started heading directly away from the wagons, running. Me on two feet, and the Kaiva on all fours. I was able to keep up with them, but just barely, and even then I could not know for sure they were running as fast as they could. I realized though, that by running on all fours, they presented a smaller profile on the horizon, and against my own reservations, I joined them running on all fours, picking up the pace until I was passing them. As I passed Kissen, she said, ¡°Did my eyes deceive, or did Kitten make friends with a mikuya?¡± Ingestion 1.5.X ¡°The inquisitor has arrived, Princess Mars.¡± Mars, short for Marissa, and currently second in line for the throne, glanced up from the report in her hands. She met her trusted First¡¯s eyes for a second, searching for any sign of alarm. When none was found, Mars let out a relieved sigh and filed the report away in her desk. ¡°I take it the inquisitor has not come for an arrest then?¡± ¡°Not this time,¡± the First said. The First, the right hand of Mars, preferred to use her title over any other name. A habit developed due to the woman¡¯s affinities and sigils, or at least Mars thought. Regardless, it was easy enough to oblige. And it provided a certain operational security. ¡°It was a joke,¡± Mars said, though a slight smile threatened to break her composure. ¡°As was I,¡± the First returned with an unruffled and dry expression. ¡°I¡¯ll show him in, then?¡± Mars shrugged, ¡°May as well. Oh!¡± she snapped her fingers and pointed. ¡°Before I forget. Did you recognize him?¡± The First nodded, ¡°Yes, Princess. From the Tower. From what I determined, this visit is more disciplinary for him, rather than investigative into us.¡± ¡°Hm. Wonder what he did to deserve us,¡± Mars grinned. ¡°Well, show him in. But give me five minutes to get ready.¡± ¡°Your will.¡± The First left the chambers to go about her given task, while Mars pulled out a compact mirror and reviewed her image and composure. Her black hair was held firmly within a bun, which while comfortable, was not the image she wished to portray. Fortunately, she had a trick for just that. From a drawer, she pulled out a lavender militaristic cap and rested it over the bun. She then checked her foundation and eyeliner, nothing was smudged, not that she would have time to fix any problems should they have occurred. Finally, she straightened her jacket, connected the buttons, and pulled out a simple knick-knack to decorate her desk with: an artificed falchion, one capable of shearing through armor as easily as cloth. The statement amused her, as the falchion had since time memorial been the tool of the Landed to run down unruly peasants, just for its ability to slice through cloth armor such as gambisons. The artificed falchion, likewise, could do that, but also added those that could afford protection to the same grouping as the peasants. It was an understated reminder of the world¡¯s place before Mars, for the Landed and peasants alike. A polite and coded knock sounded at the heavy wooden door. All was well then, without signs of obvious subversion. ¡°Princess Marissa, the Inquisitor requests an audience. Shall I send him away?¡± A question largely for show, to show the Inquisitor the regard his station deserved. After a notable pause, Mars folded her arms across her chest, kept her back straight in her chair, and lifted her chin. ¡°Enter.¡± The door opened wider than should be necessary, and the Inquisitor entered. Mars¡¯ eyes almost widened at the sight of his deviation. He wore massive hawk wings on his back, likely from an improper calibrated Bonding. Unless it had been intentional, which given the benefits of flight, may very well have been. Princess Marissa gave him cool regards, allowing him to take in the spartan office. His eyes paused momentarily on the falchion, before he cleared his throat and bowed. The First stood behind him, to the side of the door, doubling as both chaperone and bodyguard. The Inquisitor whetted his lips, and grimaced, before straightening. ¡°Princess Marissa, I must beg forgiveness for my unannounced arrival, but my orders were unexpected and I reached Southbridge prior to any messenger sent from command.¡± Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°Oh?¡± Princess Marissa asked, a single eyebrow raising fractionally, by design. The Inquisitor squirmed as he met her lilac colored eyes. ¡°And what were those orders?¡± ¡°They were unclear, Princess¡­.¡± he trailed off. Princess Marissa¡¯s eyebrow raised further. ¡°Except that I was to assist you in your endeavors¡­¡± ¡°Why were you selected for this task?¡± Princess Marissa asked, thinking back. It was true that she had requested additional Inquisitorial presence in Southbridge, but that was largely a bluff. She had reasoned that if she requested aid from an overworked and bureaucratic institution, that she could be certain that they both would neither send help, nor send an investigator to any alleged rumors or misdeeds. However, it appeared that unknowingly, the Tower had called her bluff. An unfortunate development, but not irrecoverable. In fact, it might even serve as a boon. ¡°That¡­ I cannot say for certain, Your Highness.¡± ¡°Then speculate. The most likely reason?¡± ¡°I¡­ well, I must pay penance.¡± Princess Mariss exhaled smoothly, almost a scoff, but more fitting her station. ¡°And the Tower thought to assign you to me, equating your duty with punishment?¡± Inquisitor Nathaniel winced, but nodded. ¡°Speculation, Your Highness.¡± It was fitting. And while Princess Marissa had to play the part of mild offense, she actually was unbothered. In fact, all the while they were speaking, she was wondering where to send the Inquisitor to both hamper her enemies and to prevent delays to her own plots. Although, she did find it curious that an obviously devoted and likely competent Inquisitor was suffering under the Tower¡¯s management. Perhaps, in time, she could exploit that. Thoughts for later. ¡°For what offense then, are you punished?¡± Princess Marissa asked, continuing to think. She knew her brother would send agents to Southbridge in an attempt to thwart her, even if he was an idiot and had no idea what she intended. He was obstructionist that way, simply knowing that whatever Princess Marissa desired was counter to his own desires. And idiotic though he may be, in that regard, he was correct. But the issue was that doubt could not be cast upon her own family without proof, and even then, it would need to be done quietly and discreetly. ¡°I pushed for direct intervention despite my superior¡¯s orders.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Princess Marissa halted in her thoughts, replaying what he had just said. ¡°You were insubordinate?¡± ¡°For just cause, Your Highness!¡± he said in an outburst. An aura radiated off of Princess Marissa¡¯s First, detectable as a sudden chill in the room as hoarfrost began spreading up the walls from the floor. The Inquisitor cleared his throat. ¡°Beg pardon, Your Highness.¡± ¡°You are forgiven.¡± The Inquisitor almost started to deflate, before Marissa held up a finger. ¡°This time. Do not let it happen again.¡± After a pause, the aura receded, and Marissa gave an imperceptible nod to her First. ¡°A thousand apologies,¡± he bowed once more. ¡°Enough. But now I am curious. What made you so impassioned as to forget yourself and earn penance?¡± Left unsaid, was the fact that he risked worse than disgrace. While it was generally frowned upon to execute Inquisitors, a slight imprisonment could be smoothed over, especially if the Inquisitor was already serving penance. In fact, this only strengthened Marissa¡¯s position. ¡°An infestation of wyrkwik to the north,¡± the Inquisitor said. Once again, a chilled silence filled the room. All of Princess Marissa¡¯s attention fell upon the Inquisitor. Either the Inquisitor was incompetent, or the Tower was. Either could be believable, but Princess Marissa absolutely needed to learn more. ¡°Verified?¡± Marissa prompted. ¡°I flew low enough to see the infestation. It is a colony in the wastes several days north along the highway.¡± That made little to no sense. The wyrkwik, or as the baseborn called them, the jungleborn, lived in the jungles, it was in their name. Not only that, but to have crossed the divide, they would have had to have been smuggled in, which meant human collaborators. If the wyrkwik truly were established to the north, then the city would be hard pressed to serve Princess Marissa¡¯s plans. In fact, all of her plans would be ruined. A major incursion could wreck this portion of the kingdom, and leave other borders exposed to the north and east. No, this problem needed to be dealt with. ¡°I believe we got off on the wrong foot, Inquisitor.¡± Princess Marissa stood, feigning a smile. ¡°Please, tell me more, and how I may assist in clearing this infestation.¡± Inquisitor¡¯s Nathaniel¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Crown be praised,¡± he said. Ingestion 1.5.8 Despite the fact that my collar had been removed, despite the fact that my Blessings and Marks had been unsealed, despite the fact that I was finally both hale of health and free, despite all these advantages, when compared to the Kaiva, I was falling behind. We had quickly fled the camp, the mikuya, the humans, the toxic chemical weapon unleashed by the alchemist. I, running as one normally runs, and quite quickly as well, easily setting a pace to rival olympic athletes. And yet, the Kaiva were bounding ahead, loping on all fours. They were heading down a slope between two small mountains, entering a valley of loose scree and slate. I followed. While I focused more upon the two cats, I failed to mind my footing, and I slipped upon a flat piece of slate, sending me tumbling. I caught myself with an early step, overbalanced, and went face first down upon the sharp rocks. The collision tweaked my left arm and neck; but while painful, these were not disabling. After sensing my tumble, Kissen paused first; Larissen kept running for ten yards before slowing to a stop. ¡°Kitten?¡± Kissen asked, coming back towards me, radiating concern. ¡°We might need to slow down though,¡± I said, easily swallowing any false pride I felt. If I could not keep up, then the pace must be reduced. The biggest threat I faced was that the Kaiva would abandon me, although that failed to match with my model of Kissen. I doubted she would actually allow my pace to separate us. Larissen scoffed aggressively from where he stood. While I doubted he would seriously abandon me as well, he was the one I was least certain of. However, I assumed he was putting on a gruff front. But then again, perhaps I should reconsider their characterizations, I thought, especially as their elder brother had just perished earlier that night. My inner thoughts unbeknownst to them, Kissen was the one to deign and answer my worries of lessening our pace. ¡°Perhaps,¡± Kissen said, considering me, with her eyes lingering on my left side. ¡°A slower pace may be required.¡± ¡°And let our pursuers catch their prey?!¡± Larissen demanded. ¡°This is¨C¡± ¡°-do we even know where we¡¯re running?¡± I asked, cutting him off as politely as I could and changing the subject away from his likely valid concerns. ¡°What is our planned destination?¡± Larissen bit his tongue and gave a frustrated hiss. ¡°Southbridge,¡± Kissen answered. ¡°This is the only way back home.¡± Larissen hissed in disagreement. ¡°Yes, Southbridge is impossible, but what other direction should be taken?¡± Kissen asked her brother. ¡°Not suicide,¡± Larissen said. ¡°No, Of course not that¡­¡± Kissen growled. ¡°Why even suggest this?¡± Larissen failed to respond, instead continuing forward in silence, descending further into the valley. The walls had begun steepening, although they were still wide apart. I began to suspect we were entering a gorge. The only redeeming feature of this interplay was that the pacing was reduced, if slightly. I still jogged at a quick pace, though my sides no longer ached. Thinking that I could earn favor with Larissen without spending much effort, I finally voiced what I thought his point had been earlier, though he had not spoken it clearly. ¡°Why would traveling through Southbridge be akin to suicide?¡± I asked. ¡°Oh,¡± Kissen said, while Larissen grunted in satisfaction. ¡°Well, the city belongs to the furless, and the bridge crossing the chasm is well guarded.¡± ¡°That does not sound impossible,¡± I said, already thinking of potential solutions, or ways to sneak through. ¡°If we pretended to be slaves, or collared, maybe?¡± While I lacked detailed knowledge of local customs or the city of Southbridge itself, I felt confident that I could figure something out. ¡°So eager to wear a collar again?¡± Larissen sneered. And just like that, the moments¡¯ worth of goodwill evaporated due to a careless comment. But I did not back down, as I thought that weakness would be only punished further by the male cat. ¡°If it¡¯s easily removed?¡± I asked, cocking an eyebrow with a bout of false bravado. ¡°Then what¡¯s the problem?¡± Larissen scoffed, while Kissen seemed intrigued. ¡°Perhaps the subterfuge has merit?¡± Kissen said, sounding more as though she was thinking aloud than anything else, and this likely for her brother¡¯s sake. ¡°Already Kitten demonstrated abilities¨Cthink of the cage that Kitten unlocked¡­ this is perhaps a solution?¡± ¡°Fine,¡± Larissen growled. ¡°For lack of better options, the hysob eating Kitten can¨C¡± Hysob¡­ I thought that was the fragrance from the Kaivan Jungles that alerted the cats to the presence of the mikuya? But why would he refer to me as hysob eating? Unless that was an insult, but even then¨C Kissen hissed and ran towards Larissen, tackling him in a yowl. Both siblings clawed and rolled across each other, scratching and biting, until Kissen ended on top, with her feet perched on his stomach, ready to claw his belly. ¡°Apologize, brother.¡± She hissed into Larissen¡¯s face, nose to nose. Larissen hesitated several seconds as Kissen¡¯s claws sank further in. Finally, he relented and groused, ¡°Apologies. That should not have been said.¡± I knew then that he had insulted me, based on the tone alone. But the insult itself lacked any significance of any sort, and other than knowing I had been insulted, I had no inborn feelings on the matter. I would have waved off the apology, but for the fact that Kissen had just gone through lengths to secure that apology for me. And so, I duly considered it for a moment, ensuring that my face showed a mix of feigned emotions. Finally, with a shuddering breath, I said, ¡°Forgiven.¡± Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Kissen nodded and let her brother up. It was then that I asked, ¡°But what matters most is our next step. Where are these ones heading?¡± I gestured at the gorge we had traveled into. Kissen gave her brother another nasty look before jumping off him, driving the air from his lungs in her takeoff. When she landed, perched on a rock, she pointed forward. ¡°This path leads south¡­ ish.¡± ¡°Ha. It heads many directions¡­¡± Larissen muttered. ¡°But how would these ones know which without a map.¡± Kissen growled in warning, but had no true justification for how she knew one direction from another. I had assumed that the beast person would have some innate sense of direction, but perhaps that had been erroneous on my part. ¡°Is this route safe?¡± I asked. As I asked that, I was considering the gnoll-like hundeor, the ooze monster, the bandits, and now, the mikuya. The wastes were hotly contested, despite their lacking desirability. Kissen shrugged. ¡°Larissen shall keep threats away with his pleasant disposition alone.¡± It took a moment to realize she had joked. By the time I realized it, it was too late for even a polite laugh. Larissen, meanwhile, scoffed at the attempt. ¡°This One gives thanks for the confidence¡± he said dryly, before taking the lead. We continued through the gully, which was almost a valley with how broad the bottom was, and continued meandering at a steady pace for several hours. I remembered that I had wondered at Kissen¡¯s inherent sense of direction, and how she had ¡®known¡¯ where the gorge led. When we were three hours in, and the gully curved away from the south at a sharp angle, I found a concrete answer to that inquiry. She did not, in fact, know where we were going. The southern wall of the gully was a scramble and then a near vertical of at least fifty feet. All three of us craned our heads looking up. It did not need to be said, but our best bet would be to climb. This would pose no difficulty for me, but I could not say the same for the siblings. ¡°This way is South,¡± Kissen spoke softly, her voice barely audible over the wind. ¡°Foolish, sister.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know about that¡­ How¡¯s your climbing?¡± I asked them. ¡°Were this obstacle made of wood or bark? Good.¡± ¡°Not so much with cliffs of stone,¡± Kissen finished for her brother. Both of them appeared ill at ease with the idea of climbing. I could abandon the Kaiva. Leave them behind, and continue my journey alone. But there was safety in numbers, and to be honest, they were the first two people I had met since Nick who had treated me as a person. And while that friendship alone would not have swayed me, it definitely weighed into my decision. ¡°Then we keep moving,¡± I said, starting a light jog North East, following the gully along. The two siblings followed, until Larissen overtook me and led the way. As we traveled, we kept our eyes open for any signs of enemies, but that was not the sole thing we sought. ¡°Is there no water in these lands?¡± Kissen hissed. ¡°Not that I¡¯ve found,¡± I said. I had already given this some thought, as I had yet to come across any source of natural water, but I had seen other sources. ¡°I think most people use artificed devices to extract water.¡± Larissen scoffed. ¡°Then how would animals drink?¡± he asked. Kissen nodded. ¡°There must be water¨Cperhaps hidden¨Cbut there must be.¡± We continued on, still not seeing any signs of vegetation. Only gray and black stains, slate, and rock. In the distance, there were plumes of black smoke, and above us, the ever present overcast. It was approaching evening when Kissen and Larissen finally relented and agreed with me. ¡°This is a land of death,¡± Kissen said. Neither Larissen nor I disagreed. The gully took several more turns as we went, but it hardly moved us any further South. It seemed that other than our initial luck, we traveled in a more Easterly direction. When night began to settle in, both of the Kaiva turned to me. Their lips were already chapped. ¡°Kitten survived these wastes before joining the caravan,¡± Kissen said. ¡°-How,¡± Larissen butted in. ¡°How is survival possible here?¡± ¡°I struggled,¡± I told them honestly. ¡°But I was able to steal supplies. The bandits had water.¡± ¡°Then bandits shall be found,¡± Kissen said, Larissen agreeing. An hour after night fell, the clouds above only illuminated by the orange flames in the distance beyond the horizon, we found a recessed cavern along one of the gully walls. As we required rest, we made our way for it. None of our senses revealed any recent activity, so we guessed that the cavern was free to use. Not that inhabitants would have stopped us. We made our way in. The cavern itself was short, hardly more than a room with a dusty floor. As there were no stalagmites present, I could only guess what forces might have caused the creation of the cave. The walls lacked any of the waxy appearance that the artificial caverns had. We decided to rest there until morning, and then seek out bandits that we could raid for resources. As I slept that night, I startled awake. A clawed hand had hit my shoulder. In the near darkness, I could barely see more than an outline. But the scent belonged to Kissen, and it carried the hint of distress. Worried of a potential attack, I froze, refusing to make a sound, at least until I knew the reason. If Kissen was remaining silent, despite her wary behavior, and despite the manner in which she woke me up, then there had to be a good reason. I similarly saw her rouse her brother; he jerked awake, and grunted a question before she pinched him with her claws, causing him to sulk silently. I kept my ears wide open, seeking for any source of alarm. I dared not speak, and it seemed the Kaivan siblings shared the same though. It was not a moment later, when I heard a hushed voice from outside the cavern, from the gorge. The voices sounded familiar. They were human. Outside the cavern, the humans from the caravan were huddled in conversation. Had they tracked us? I wondered, in a near panic. Would they attempt to capture us? Did they blame us? So many questions rushed through my mind, but I knew that I would not allow myself to be captured. I had my Blessings, and my Mark. I had my magic. And while the humans did as well, I would have the element of surprise, and my wits¡­ But why were they there? I needed to know before I knew how to respond. Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.5.9 I edged closer to the entrance, keeping my ears sharp. Kissen shot me a warning glare and reached towards me, but I deftly ducked around her hand and passed near where the dim light from the overcast night filtered in through the gaps in the stone. While the lighting was dim, it would not be impossible for careful eyes to see. I kept near the wall, and mouthed ¡°Illusion,¡± allowing the shadows to grow around me. If I played the Illusion correctly, then it would seem like an almost natural extension of blackness against the already dark wall. I hoped to avoid revealing any of my tricks, but the risk in this case was worth it, for I had to know. ¡°Kitt¡ª¡± a whisper cut off as Larissen clamped his palm over Kissen¡¯s muzzle. I peered out from the entrance, finally catching sight of the humans. I could now hear distinct words. Mind: 69 (+1) ¡°Did you hear that?¡± Sir Kate asked. She was near the front of the humans, with her sword ready in her hand. Her eyes peered into the shadowed cavern, glossing over where I hid. My exposure would have been minimal, even without the Illusion. ¡°What¡¯s the hold up?¡± Ken Guardson asked briskly from behind her, his attention on the surrounding cliffs and rocks where an enemy might hide. ¡°I don¡¯t like standing exposed like this, and we¡¯ve got weary civies to think of.¡± ¡°Yeah, but I¡¯m pretty sure I heard something,¡± Kate said, still cautiously watching the cavern. If you cannot trust the shelter, then move on! I thought. That would have solved many problems. Instead, they continued with their plans, stubborn as mules. ¡°Ken¡¯s right,¡± Muleater said. ¡°If there¡¯s something in there, we can handle it. We have to.¡± ¡°Ugh, fine.¡± Kate groaned, but her voice quickly grew firm. ¡°If we¡¯re to do this, then we¡¯ll do it right. Ken, keep two to my left and one behind.¡± Ken scoffed, but complied, getting closer to position. ¡°Aunt Jan, you¡¯ll watch our rear?¡± Kate asked. ¡°Yeah, hurry it up though, will ya?¡± Lieutenant Janet Muleater said. ¡°We don¡¯t know if the damned wyrkwik are out there.¡± She acted so blase. It made no sense. They had just been through a series of traumatic events. They had been traveling since the ambush. Their numbers had been drastically reduced. Why was she acting like none of this mattered, like Kate¡¯s observations were empty, like no threat could possibly await within the cavern that they sought shelter in? And then it struck me: they were numb. They had not been following us. As incredible as it was to believe, they had found the same cavern as we by happenstance. They likely fled a similar direction as we did, and were funneled by the same gorge. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Still, as incredible as it was to believe, it had to have been happenstance, because if the humans had been following us, had been tracking us, then they would not be acting so half-heartedly in entering the cavern. But as it was, this left us with an opportunity. They were exhausted. They were ill prepared for an ambush. And it seemed that the Kaivan twins had a similar thought at the same time. Kissen and Larissen flanked either side of the entrance, their claws seemingly longer and sharper in the dim light. At a later time, I would have wondered if the Kaivan had some ability to control their claws. But even then, even with the humans as exhausted as they were, they had swords, they had Marks, and seemed far more deadly than two naked cats with naught but their claws and teeth. The only merit to our¨Cno, their¨Cplan, was the element of surprise, and that of our desperation. But even with those two advantages¡­ I had seen Kate spar. Her abilities with the sword were supernatural. Other than an immediate claw across her throat, I doubted our chances. Wait. Mind: 70 (+1) We had another element on our side¨Cmy Illusions. I could blind Kate. And then Ken. And then Muleater¡­ with each of them presumably more skilled and more practiced at combat than the last. Just how far could we take the element of surprise? And did we want a conflict at this point? While the humans had imprisoned me, they had also healed me. And they might have been our ticket through Southbridge. There was also another challenge. Among the civies was one Alchemist Charson, and the chemical weapon he had unleashed back at camp was still fresh in my memory. Kate was almost upon us. The Kaivan siblings readied their ambush. Kissen glanced my way. I could almost imagine her shining eyes questioning me, why I had yet to join them in preparations for an ambush. But did this need to result in a fight? Could we win the fight? Or were the siblings desperate to go down swinging. Another look her way, at her round eyes, showed a slew of emotions, from determination, to resignation, and even a loathing hate. They were not thinking rationally, which meant the burden of rationality fell to me. The tip of Kate¡¯s sword passed the threshold. The siblings prepared to pounce. The moment stretched out into the infinite silence between heartbeats. My decision was made. ¡°Wait!¡± I shouted. Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.5.10 The Kaiva growled, a menacing sound that filled the air with dread. ¡°Treachery!¡± Larissen spat, while Kissen demanded, ¡°Kitten, why?!¡± I raised my hands in a futile attempt to stop them from launching an attack. There was no time to explain my actions so I had to hope they could see reason and not rush into battle. If only I could make them understand me and trust me... ¡°-Who goes there?¡± Ken bellowed ¡°-Ha!¡± Kate shouted, ¡°I knew I heard something!¡± ¡°-Pull back,¡± Muleater commanded. ¡°Alchemist Charson, join them on point, I''ll cover the rear!¡± But Charson stubbornly refused. ¡°Do not presume to order me into doing what you refuse to do yourself!¡± he snarled. ¡°-This one will never wear a collar!¡± Larissen howled in defiance, his fur standing on end and every muscle tensed for battle. He seemed ready to throw himself at danger without hesitation. ¡°I think I heard the kunny tongue!¡± Sir Kate remarked as she listened in on us with her human ears, or perhaps it was a Mark that granted her additional perception that allowed her to hear our conversation from across the cavern entrance. ¡°They must be with the wyrkwik?¡± A voice came from further back, where the civies hid. It might have been the Caravan Master, Manny Stillson. ¡°No,¡± Lieutenant Muleater answered coolly. ¡°Most likely these are our cargo¨Cthe ones we presumed missing.¡± ¡°Probably infested,¡± Charson sneered. ¡°They tampered with my¨C¡± he cut off as Stillson elbowed him in the side and shot a meaningful glare. ¡°How would you know?¡± Ken asked Muleater skeptically. ¡°They could be another group¨Cmaybe even bandits that the purple kunny mentioned.¡± Sir Kate had a quick solution: she shouted into the cavern, ¡°Hey! Who are you and are we gonna fight?!¡± Kissen glanced at her brother who was clearly ready for a fight and snapped her claws in warning. ¡°Brother¡­ wait.¡± ¡°But¨C¡± Larissen started, but was immediately silenced by Kissen. ¡°It is too late to stop. Let Kitten show her play - and hope it works." She gave me a suspicious stare, sensing something was off. I had to break the tension so we could get out of this alive. "Before I answer that," I said, my voice ringing outside the walls, ¡°may we have your guarantee that we will not be harmed or otherwise restrained?" Charson scoffed. ¡°Why should I¨Cwe¨Ctrust you? Especially, if you are who I think you are¨Can infested beast!¡± ¡°We have one surprise for you then,¡± I threatened, still attempting to defuse the situation with the oldest negotiable and bargainable tool in any peacekeeper¡¯s skillset: the threat of applied violence. ¡°What are you even doing here?¡± Sir Kate asked rapidly, but was quickly reprimanded by Muleater. ¡°-Stay on point, we still don''t know if they''re friendly or not,¡± Muleater said. ¡°-Or infested¡­¡± Stillson muttered. ¡°We could be - all we need is that guarantee," I replied as I stepped closer towards the exit. ¡°Otherwise you''ll regret crossing paths with us.¡± I was able to see them, but I was unsure if they could see me. I was still within the shadows of the cavern, and it was night out on top of that. Given the lowlight conditions, I doubted a traditional human could see me. However, with so many Marks and Seals and just general magical mothersworn-things in general, I had been learning to doubt those assumptions. Even so, I counted them off: if this was all of them, then their survival rate had been abysmal. All five of them stood at the mouth of the cave and looked down the path leading away from our camp. Ken Guardson tapped Leutenent Muleater¡¯s shoulder with his greatsword. ¡°Janet,¡± he said, ¡°You cannot possibly be considering allying ourselves with these things? They are nothing more than fodder; you will not gain any appreciable knowledge by joining them. And they may be¡­ with the wyrkwik. They all come from the same place.¡± Kate winced, as did I. ¡°I agree¨C¡± Charson butted in. ¡°The most they are useful for is entertainment or parts, or perhaps if in surplus, the pits. Besides, they are undoubtedly infested by now. Else why would the wyrkwik allow their escape?¡± Meanwhile, I tried to soothe the Kaiva to allow me the chance to continue bartering. Thankfully, despite her reservations, Kissen seemed at least sympathetic to my plight. "Kitten''s plan is not simply to¡­ say hello?" Kissen mouthed silently next to me. ¡°Gain a more favorable position for these ones?¡± It seemed that despite Kissen¡¯s sympathies, she still did not understand the act of coexistence and cooperation. But I could work with this. Larissen thought otherwise. "This ends poorly," Larissen huffed just slightly louder than Kissen. "Lieutenant?" Sir Kate asked, prompting the Lieutenant who had been lost in thought. ¡°Ken, switch me. I''ll take point," Muleater said as she pushed past the others and headed up towards the cavern entrance where I and the Kaiva hid. Ken made a scoffing sound at the thought of fighting us¡ªno doubt we were less prepared--before falling back towards the civies; apparently rearguard meant babysitting. As she passed Charson, who stood to the rear of Sir Kate, Charson reached out to tap Muleater''s shoulder. "Janet," he said "You cannot possibly be considering allying ourselves with these things? The most they''re useful for is entertainment or parts." I shuddered at his words, and both the Kaiva tensed. ¡°As you said already,¡± Muleater said without pausing, striding past him. He tried blocking her, grabbing at her shoulder. I knew who the siblings would attack first if things came to blows. Muleater¡¯s lips tightened as she pivoted around Charson¡¯s hand, and she continued towards the front. ¡°If it improves our chances?¡± Muleater said all the while, ¡°Then yes, I will. And it¡¯s Lieutenant Muleater. Do not take liberties.¡± ¡°Hardly the time for a correction,¡± Charson replied with an edge in his voice. ¡°Need I remind you who saved us from the attack?¡± ¡°Saved?¡± Sir Kate scoffed, jumping to Muleater¡¯s side. ¡°We all bled and fought, and it was the Jungleborn that retreated.¡± ¡°The proper term is wyrkwik,¡± Charson corrected. ¡°Only the uneducated baseborn call them ¡®Jungleborn.¡¯ Your station demands better.¡± Lieutenant Muleater continued her approach, only halting when she heard the deep growl rumbling from Kissen''s throat. We all tensed at that. And I had thought it would be Larissen that ruined our chances of a team-up, not Kissen. Unless she meant to delay Larissen¡¯s reaction by separating the two? It seemed I still had much to learn about the Kaiva and how they thought, at least if I were to appropriately model their behavior. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Kissen¡¯s whiskers quivered and her mouth opened partially, revealing her sharp fangs. She took another step forward, glaring at Sir Kate with unrestrained hatred in her eyes while Muleater reached for her sword. "Enough!" Muleater snapped, turning her attention towards the cave entrance where we were hidden in shadows. The tension thickened until I could have cut it with a knife; even though Muleater couldn''t see me clearly, I felt like she could discern me nonetheless. "I''m inclined to give that guarantee," she said thoughtfully before turning back to face us, "But Alchemist Charson and Ken have a point." Muleater paused, letting her bait hang in the air as she waited for us to respond. Was it a trap? Was she just stringing us along to move us out of position? Apparently, the Kaiva siblings thought so. A nervous energy rolled off my companions and I had to think quickly before they gave in to their instincts. We were so close to avoiding violence that would likely be unwinnable without casualties or wounds. ¡°We could benefit from each other if we join forces,¡± I murmured. ¡°I can offer our speed and scouting abilities¨Cand Marks which provide assurance to my claims. We have a great deal to gain by working together.¡± Muleater hesitated, her gaze flicking towards Sir Kate and Charson. I had to come up with more incentives for her to say yes. ¡°It would help if you showed your face instead of hiding. It''s hard to trust someone who won''t commit that much," Muleater said. "Would showing ourselves make it easier?" I asked, keeping my voice neutral. "It''ll be a start," Muleater replied dryly. I took a deep breath before I continued. ¡°A start? Then you¡¯ll want more¡­ ?¡± Muleater nodded, and I scrambled to think of any other incentives I could provide that would establish goodwill and cooperation. There was one thing I could think of, but I was hesitant to commit. However, what other choice did I have? ¡°Or maybe revealing a bit about what my Marks do?¡± My words caught in my throat as I spoke them¡ªit was a dangerous move but one that might convince Muleater to cooperate with me. ¡°That would be expected among allies,¡± she said, her tone suddenly more certain. Kate hissed, ¡°Really?¡± ¡°-At least somewhat.¡± Muleater hurried to add. Footsteps echoed in the room as my mind raced with possibilities; either way, I still had one card left in the deck. If only I could find a way to sweeten the pot¡­ "Of course, with the guarantee of cooperation, we will work together for mutual benefit," I finally said, steeling myself for her reply. The two siblings sensed the tension between us as I anxiously awaited Muleater''s decision. ¡°Kitten?¡± Kissen asked, with a hint of anxiety in his voice. ¡°Lost our chance of ambush, for this?¡± Larissen said sternly, although their words were still barely audible. ¡°For nothing?!¡± Mind: 71 (+1) That gave me an idea, another tactic I could use. I waited impatiently for Muleater to respond. I didn''t want to continue the discussion any further, as I was afraid it might weaken my standing. The quietness was overwhelming and soon Sir Kate spoke up. ¡°So¡­ ?¡± Sir Kate broke the awkward silence. ¡°This is nonsense,¡± Charson remarked grumpily as he pulled out a vial from his bandolier, which shimmered an orange hue. ¡°I can clear them out in seconds. They are entirely in our power. Why do we play games? Unless it doesn''t matter if we set camp tonight; unless leaving potential beasts and enemies at our back does not bother us. Unless erecting strong fortifications against the Jungleborn is not a priority. This is foolishness! Why is a lowborn leading¨C¡± ¡°-enough!¡± Muleater shouted, his voice reverberating through the room making me flinch and causing the siblings to jump in surprise while hatred shone through on Charson''s face. At that moment, Sir Kate took a step away from Charson, subtly readying herself to pounce him if necessary. I made sure to take mental note of the situation. ¡°If the Apprentice Alchemist wants to do things on his own, he¡¯s more than welcome to leave,¡± Muleater continued. ¡°But for the guards and the rest who were put under my charge, we go about this my way! And I believe joining forces with the kun will improve our chances of survival if an accord is reached. So what will it be, Apprentice Alchemist Charson? Will you stay and follow my orders or will you depart? Whatever you decide, decide now.¡± Charson snarled, his eyes ablaze with fury. ¡°Leave. You and your charges will surely die out here. I¡¯ll report word to Master Silverborn when I return to civilization.¡± He started storming off, but he paused at Ken, eyeing his backpack with greed. But Muleater quickly intervened, brandishing her weapon. ¡°Don¡¯t even think about it!¡± Muleater said through gritted teeth. ¡°Ken Guardson! Permission to defend yourself and your supplies against Charson is granted, and lethal force is authorized!¡± Charson cursed under his breath before striding off into the night, following the gully. As we watched him leave, tension hung heavily in the air between us and the guards. Muleater''s gaze was cold and calculating as she turned her attention back to me. ¡°Now, as for you¡­¡± she began. I met Kissen''s worried gaze, feeling a knot form in my stomach. We had been caught in dangerous territory, and tensions were high between our groups. I knew we needed to tread carefully. ¡°It was you!¡± Sir Kate exclaimed excitedly. ¡°I thought I recognized your voice, How¡¯d you¨C¡± Spirit: 47 (+1) ¡°-please, Kate,¡± I interrupted sharply. ¡°We don''t have time for this. Let me handle this.¡± Kate looked hurt by my dismissive tone, but I couldn''t worry about that now. My priority was diffusing the situation before it escalated any further. Larissen eyed me suspiciously from the corner of her eye, clearly still harboring doubts about our alliance. But I pressed on regardless. ¡°We''re not here to cause trouble,¡± I said calmly yet firmly. ¡°We just need to pass through these lands safely.¡± Muleater''s expression softened slightly at my words, but her grip on her weapon never faltered. The tension remained palpable as we waited for her response. ¡°I had missed you, kit,¡± Sir Kate said to me, using a new pet name that was similar to ¡®Kitten,¡¯ but infinitely worse, coming with a healthy dose of condescension and something else that I could not put my finger upon. Through sheer willpower, I managed to keep the revulsion off my face at the pet name. Muleater paid no attention to her though, instead fixing me with a piercing gaze that seemed to be searching for something within me. Her sword was kept in a seemingly careless position, but I could feel the energy radiating from her body- the readiness that came from a fight and a journey- and I wasn''t sure what special capabilities she might possess. Regardless, with Charson¡¯s departure, I believed that I had won. It was just a matter of securing the spoils now. "My name is Jackie," I said with an awkward wave. "And these are my companions Kissen and Larissen". Kissen had stepped out from behind me and was standing next to me while Larissen stayed further back, radiating his hatred silently. "You don''t have your Seals," Muleater remarked, referring to our collars. "And you are wearing...that." "My gear," I said without missing a beat, not wanting the conversation to veer towards this point. "We had to take the collars off; they were holding us back." And causing pain and humiliation and showing how twisted our society is¡­ but again, voicing those points would do nothing positive for my current situation. "I see..." she replied slowly before asking. "Will you help us get through Southbridge without your collars? I assume yes, but I must verify." I paused for a few moments before finally answering in the affirmative, albeit hesitantly. "Yes¡­ for now at least." Kissen poked me discreetly, but even so I couldn''t get myself to say anything more than that. ¡°Huh. Wasn¡¯t expecting that,¡± Muleater said. ¡°If we do part ways before that, can I trust you won''t double cross us?¡± My chest tightened as I realized how easily this woman could call my bluff and see right through the deceit I was so desperately trying to sell. I swallowed hard and said, ¡°Of course not,¡± with as much sincerity as I could muster. She tapped the device on her belt, and nodded in satisfaction. She sheathed her weapon and released her grip, extending her right hand for a shake. I resisted the urge to flinch back, however the two Kaiva did. Muleater almost smirked at me and said, ¡°You¡¯re much more socialized for your kind. Now, do you have a camp setup in there? We¡¯ve got some tired feet, and a long day tomorrow.¡± Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.5.11 Early the next morning, we woke at dawn and the humans reluctantly shared their rations with us. They surprised me with their packaging. Because from what I had seen of the world so far, it relied on low-tech solutions, like swords, crossbows, and even meohr-pulled wagons. But then, coming from their backpacks, were almost shrink wrapped packets of wet nutrient bars. All the packaging was missing was colorful advertisements or name brands and they could fit in in any convenience store. The bars even tasted like I would expect, like a cross between a sports bar and breakfast in a package. With no time to waste, I fingered open the seal with my teeth and ripped off the tab with my claw, then tore into the bar. The taste was unexpectedly sweet, like pancakes on Earth but without syrup or honey. While I could grow accustomed to the overly saccharine flavor, the Kaiva thought otherwise. Kissen shuddered when she took her first bite before she daintily held up her packet in disgust. ¡°Food is food, sister,¡± Larissen commented, though he was scowling at his own. ¡°A truth,¡± she agreed. Afterwards, she tore into hers as well, taking smaller bites than usual, but soon her growling stomach won out over caution. As I ate my own, I decided that the flavor was increasingly worsening. No, I took it back as I bit into what must have been some sort of dingleberry. I winced and forced the stuff down while watching the humans devour theirs enthusiastically. ¡°Are you enjoying that?¡± Sir Kate asked, her voice light and teasing. Gregory Silverborn gave a half-smile as he scooted closer to his companion. ¡°I doubt it. Kunny don''t usually appreciate people food.¡± Kissen glared in their direction, but Larissen was the one to speak up, ¡°Define people, Qavi.¡± An insult that the humans failed to recognize exactly, but understood the implied tone. ¡°Brother! These are our allies!¡± Kissen protested, a strange smirk that mixed both joviality and anger that completely befuddled both myself and the humans. She swiped her hand down and raked her claws across his shoulders. He yowled, and the two of them tumbled across the ground, hissing and spitting and laughing. Gregory sneered, ¡°See? Animals.¡± I barely restrained the growl before it grew audible, though Kate glanced my way and winced, if ever so slightly. The words should not have bothered me so, but¡­ but there was some truth to them. My body was not my own, not anymore. I had a tail! It was just too much. And as if those physical changers were not terrible enough, no, but there were mental changes as well! Could I even claim to be me any longer? Would I end up acting like the Kaiva? And then, there were the little things that defied physics, that defied biology, that were just altogether confusing. I had been in this body for at least a month now. And yet, my cycle never came. Did that whole business change with this body? I would need to find out. Those types of surprises were the worst. I wondered if I should bring it up with Kissen, as the older female here? But then, that would admit another gap in my knowledge that might reveal something that should remain hidden. I did not know what I never knew and it was maddening to try learning everything while keeping these secrets! But while on the topic of biology, while just finishing a meal, that left another deviation: no waste products. I never urinated or defecated, but I did eat. Where did that mass go? These were the questions I pondered while the humans packed their camp and led back out into the gully. But once we were moving, I forced myself to switch mental tracks. We were in hostile territory, even with the numbers, especially with the numbers, which could draw attention quickly. And so, with vigilance and trepidation, we set out along the gully, expecting an ambush at every corner. My senses were heightened, scanning every angle for Charson''s presence; his thoughts on our mission made it clear he wanted nothing to do with it. The Kaiva and humans kept a close watch as well, though none of their senses compared to mine. Surprisingly enough, it seemed I took security the most seriously. The Kaiva trusted to their senses and grimaced at the noisy humans, but they did not seem overly alert otherwise. The humans seemed to be scurrying about, talking and walking at different paces, and it was difficult to discern a marching order. Soon, I was dragged into it as well. Sir Kate soon came upon me, her presence making me wary. For her, my feelings were mixed. I both wanted to be near her, and detested her. All at the same time. Were I human, I knew she would be exactly my type. But I was not. And she had treated me like property. But still, she was my type, and I could not help taking a moment to study her appearance¡ªshe wore three swords¡ªa bastard longsword jutting out of a belt on her side and two shortswords harnessed on her back. Her carefree attitude clashed with the dread that emanated from her form; it was clear that stepping into danger was nothing new to her. Despite my hesitation in building relations with her, I decided it would be worth it¨Cher blue-tinted blonde hair, blue eyes, skin so pale it seemed blue, lithe limbs and her entrancing smile were far too appealing to ignore. As I watched her, my heart raced. She was captivating¨Ca vision of beauty, and I could understand why Greg Silverborn followed her around like a dog after its master. But I also felt a wave of revulsion wash over me; this girl had called me ''kit,'' she had treated me as a pet, as though I were property. And other than... no, no one was permitted to do so, no matter how charismatic or ruggedly beautiful, and no matter how their callouses would likely feel... just no. The space between us seemed to expand as the silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity. My face torn between a lustful smile and a loathing grimace, with my expression fortunately hidden by my muzzle and sharp canines. I managed to smooth out the awkwardness and gave her a simple and slight nod. She fidgeted while approaching, toying with the hems of her jacket. Meanwhile, her jealous little lover-boy, Gregory Silverborn, hung back with suspicious eyes fixed firmly upon me. ¡°So, come on, spill it... what Marks do you have?¡± Her voice was strangely tight, the implication of something brewing in the air. My eyes narrowed and my lips curled downward as I remembered how Lieutenant Muleater had greeted my talents with skepticism only a few hours ago. Muleater had been less than impressed with my forthcomingness. I kept things vague, and only told my present company some of what I could do, the most obvious and situational things that would leave me underestimated. I had told them I could climb any surface, that I was lighter than should be naturally possible, and that I could sneak. Of course, I never mentioned my Illusions. Those remained an ace up my sleeve, one which could mean the difference between life and death should the situation sour. I took a deep breath and considered if I would share more. I was leaning towards no, but while I thought on it, she spoke once more. ¡°Look,¡± she said. ¡°If we''re going to fight together, then you should know what I can do." I thought about her suggestion while I kept examining our surroundings. The walls of the gully had started to incline, and the floor had widened out, but the others were still hesitant to scale the sides¨Ceven though it could shrink our travel time by days. The humans brought enough supplies that they were certain we''d be alright. I wasn''t as convinced. As I thought it over, she brushed a mark off her coat; I doubted she would ever get it back to its initial yellow state. ¡°Alright,¡± I said, nodding hesitantly. It made sense. That did not mean that I agreed, however. She stopped adjusting her clothing and gave me a wide smile. It made me almost regret what I was about to say next. ¡°But only if you tell me yours first,¡± I said with intentional humor, hoping to distract and derail, or at the very least lighten the situation. She chuckled in response, while Gregory glared and grumbled. Luckily, she spoke before Gregory had a chance to protest. ¡°Alright, alright¨C¡± she smiled and showed off a blade ¡°-I guess that makes sense. As you already suspected, I use swords.¡± ¡°More like a blademaster,¡± Gregory chimed in with obvious flattery and a sharp glare directed towards me. ¡°Not even close to that level yet,¡± she said immediately, sounding wistful. ¡°I have so much more to learn before I can even think about being called a master.¡± ¡°But you''ve won tournaments!¡± he pointed out rather proudly. ¡°Yeah¡­ that¡¯s true," she conceded reluctantly. "But there''s always room for improvement; as someone once said." She paused and gave an amused shrug before continuing, ¡°I actually can¡¯t remember exactly what that old dude said exactly. But you get the idea, right? ¡­ Right?!¡± she grinned. ¡°Anyways, show me your maaaarks!¡± she finished, laughing. ¡°Forgetting something?¡± I asked her, attempting to raise a brow. Without a mirror, I could not be sure it worked. ¡°Oh right! I share first. Uhmmm¨C¡± ¡°Kate!¡± Gregory protested. ¡°-No, I got this, don¡¯t worry. It¡¯s nothing she wouldn¡¯t have figured out on her own anyways. I¡¯ve got some Body enhancements; improved speed and dexterity plus battle awareness. That one was my latest gain.¡± "She''s not giving herself enough credit," he interjected before she could stop him. "Her battle-sense is really good¡­ Amazing for someone her age. With the major glyphs she does have." ¡°We can chat about me later," Sir Kate said determinedly, "But right now it''s your turn." She gave me a pointed and almost teasing stare. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°A deal¡¯s a deal,¡± I said, even though I had no intention of honoring it fully. Instead, I recounted what I had shared with Lieutenant Muleater. Sir Kate was also less than impressed. ¡°Is that all?¡± She asked sternly, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. My confidence faltered, and my ears and tail dropped slightly. I wanted her to respect me like she respected Gregory; after seeing her fight, I knew she deserved it. Despite the risk of overexposing myself, I let my emotions show. ¡°I have a Body one too, but it¡¯s still¨C¡± ¡°What?¡± Sir Kate questioned sharply, her voice laced with suspicion. Why would she be suspicious? Did she not admit to having Body enhancement as well? ¡°Haaah¡­¡± I said, shrugging. ¡°I guess I should ask this first: how do Marks work?¡± I asked, trying to conceal how desperate I was for an answer with false humor. Also, attempting to once again distract and derail. Gregory snorted with disdain. ¡°Can¡¯t even accuse her of lying¨Cthe beasts know even less than the¨C¡± ¡°Gregory Silverborn!¡± Sir Kate interrupted him sharply. ¡°She is an ally and you will treat her with respect!¡± A part of me swelled when she defended me¨Cand the rest of me hated that traitorous part for committing attempted Stockholm syndrome. ¡°But she¡¯s weak and clueless! Why are you wasting your time on her?¡± Sir Kate took a deep breath and counted to three before sighing. ¡°Go back to the group, Greg. Now.¡± ¡°But¨C¡± ¡°Get out of my sight!¡± She shouted at him. That was a bit over the top, I thought. All parts of me grew suspicious. Why was she acting this way? I assumed she was attempting to sway me to her ¡®sympathetic¡¯ side, for either potential boons, or perhaps information. I would not be falling for the honey bucket, however. No, I refused to fall like such an easy mark. Nevermind her strong shoulders¡­ Meanwhile, Greg huffed and threw his arms up in protest before turning away. Kate watched him leave then shook her head and cleared her throat. ¡°Sorry about that,¡± she said. ¡°Now what were you asking about Marks? Anything part in particular?¡± I studied her cautiously, my mind racing with anxiety over her true motives. ¡°Just general information, if you don''t mind¡± I said through gritted teeth, desperate for any shred of insight. She smiled again and my heart slammed against my rib cage in an attempt to break free. ¡°Of course! I suppose they really don¡¯t have anything like this in the jungle, but I would have thought...¡± She halted abruptly, shaking her head to clear her mind before offering me a reassuring smile and continuing the explanation. ¡°There are different kinds of Marks. The static ones tend to be cheaper and can always be added later, so there is some sense in getting them first. But Living Marks like mine come with flavors; for example, my battlesense has three glyphs that will likely branch out into even more depending on how I use it as I age. So it¡¯s important to practice regularly and stay active if you want your Mark to grow. Same goes for Enhancements too ¨C like my speed body Mark. And then the God Marks¡­¡± she ended with a frown. ¡°But I don¡¯t know much about those, that¡¯s inquisitor business.¡± As I probed further, my curiosity intensified. "What¡­ what are those?¡± I asked, keeping my voice calm, avoiding any shaking quiver that might convey my concern. Her expression grew grave as she replied. She winced, her eyes betraying a deep-seated fear. "Sorry, but you''d have to ask an Inquisitor or a Nobel Agent, and¡­ well¨C¡± she shot me a look ¡°-I don''t recommend that," she finished with a shudder. My heart raced with the intensity of the moment. If she simply did not know the answer, it would be one thing. But her discomfort with the topic spoke volumes about its gravity. If I dug deeper, our fragile relationship could spiral out of control. It was a risk I had to take. "Why swords?" I asked abruptly, feeling the weight of my own impatience in my words. She blinked, taken aback by my sudden intensity. Her smile slowly faded away like a dying star in a black hole. "In what sense do you mean?" she countered hesitantly. I tapped my lips thoughtfully, readying myself to push forward into this new venture. My index claw dug into my chin by mistake and drew blood. She snickered at my clumsiness, breaking the tension for just a moment. "I guess I haven''t seen any Kaivan use weapons," I explained through gritted teeth as I licked my wound clean. I realized, at some point, that the Kaivan in question had come near enough to join the conversation, though they had thus far remained contentedly brooding as we walked. Off to the side, Kissen''s fur bristled with indignation, while Larissen growled a warning deep in his throat. Kate appeared oblivious to their reactions. I could see her naivete in assuming she had said something wrong, but I merely held my tongue and kept my tail swishing menacingly behind me. ¡°Okay then, lemme explain it," Kate said, licking her lips in anticipation, and completely ignoring the brewing unease from the Kaivan siblings. ¡°Swords are the best.¡± My eyes were hard and narrowed at her unhelpful answer, but then I realized she was making a joke, and that this was the perfect way to ratchet down the conversation. The pause was brief enough that I thought the awkwardness might have escaped notice. Meanwhile, I was trying to figure out what was bothering the Kaivan. Their ears were perked and their heads swiveling. Did they hear something? I noticed Kissen¡¯s nose scrunched just slightly, with her mouth agape and tongue visible. Kissen was tasting the air. Which meant they smelled something. I scanned the gorge, trying to pick up what had them spooked. But with the multitude of large broken stones strewn across the ground and the steep walls of the gorge, we were vulnerable to an ambush from any angle. And from what I had seen, these guards lacked ranged weapons; only swords, which was partly why I had asked her questions in the first place. I assumed all their ¡®strayls¡¯ or crossbowmen as I would have called them had died in the ambush. But as I studied the rugged craggy walls of the gorge more closely, out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw a brief moment of motion along the top of the cliff, right along the lip: a flicker too quick to discern what it may have been or where it had gone. That brought up yet another curiosity that would need answering soon enough. I ceased walking, becoming utterly still except for my tail''s slow swish. Kate¡¯s serious gaze transfixed me, seemingly still processing the conversation, never aware of the body language that screamed danger. The other humans had yet to catch up with us, but I hoped that they at least would understand. Kate continued speaking with the intensity of conviction. ¡°I assume you aren''t asking why humans use weapons, since we don''t possess claws, but why I favor swords?¡± She continued without pause. Her passion was unmistakable as she declared ¡°Swords are elegant, fast, and versatile; no other weapon can match it!¡± Other than that one slight almost-movement, I had failed to detect any signs of hostile parties in the area. If I were to raise the alarm for nothing, then I would lose credibility. I decided to remain wary, and to trust the Kaivan to actually say something if they found something worrying. I began walking and talking once more. "But couldn¡¯t crossbows hit you from range?" I asked, playing devil¡¯s advocate to Kate¡¯s passion. She scoffed with disdain. "By the time one loads and points one I''d have them at point." Then she fell silent, her distant expression hinting of past experiences that left their mark on her soul. The cloying aroma of sweet perfume suddenly wafted through the air as we walked, making us all pause for a moment¨Cyet I shook my head gently and we resumed our slow pace. But still, where had that smell come from? Out of the blue she made a bold offer: "You want me to show you how to use one?" My mouth opened in surprise, "Pardon?" I stammered in confusion. ¡°The sword? You asked about it, I take it you¡¯re interested right? My trainers told me one of the best ways to learn is by teaching. I was thinking when we make camp tonight that I could show you some of the basics.¡± My heart raced and my mind spun in circles. On one hand, I wanted to learn something so unique as swordsmanship, but on the other hand I had never been one for anachronisms. But was it really an anachronism here? I was undecided, but I was still leaning towards a ¡®yes.¡¯ But what sold me on the offer was that learning swordsmanship would be an incredible way to bond with Kate and strengthen our relations. Which would deepen empathy. Which would decrease the likelihood of getting stabbed in the back. So I answered. "Yes," I said, "I would like to learn." A smile spread across her smudged face and her scent intensified with undertones of caution and purpose that almost tasted like cherries. I had only come across one force in my life that could emit such emotions through scent. "That''s great!" She exclaimed. "Since you''ve got a Living Mark, at least I''m pretty sure you do, then we might get you an Unlock something blade-related. With your current skill set, it might end up as footwork related at first; but that''s the most important part anyways. Maybe you could end up a sword dancer¨C" she wiggled her eyebrows. She looked me over again, twisting her lips and scrunching her brow in thought before continuing. "But oh yeah! Able to climb anything, not leaving tracks definitely a mobility theme... depending on what kinda stone went into your Mark, you might even emulate The Ghost!" My heart skipped a beat as she continued her explanation with far too much enthusiasm, referencing things I had never heard of before. Fear and excitement tore through me like a wild beast as I considered the possibilities of learning swordsmanship in such a short amount of time. ¡°Wait, stones?¡± I asked. ¡°And The Ghost?¡± The more I learned, the more questions I had. ¡°She''s an absolute legend. How have you not already known that stuff?" She then pretended to slap her forehead while shaking her head in disbelief. ¡°Oh that¡¯s right! Haaa¡­ alright so the stone used in the ink makes a big difference on how glyphs will manifest¡± The wind suddenly shifted to our backs and I could taste both amusement and hunger radiating from somewhere, reminding me of a creepy stalker or urban prowler. My suspicions were once again heightened as Kate began listing off Living Stones and their common to exotic effects. Still though, the Kaivan siblings held their peace. What had I been smelling, I wondered. ¡°Out of curiosity though,¡± I said abruptly, cutting her off again. ¡°How did your group escape from the mikuya¨Cwyrkwik¨Cyesterday?¡± Kate looked at me with surprise and a slight hint of anger flitting in her eyes. ¡°Didn¡¯t Aunt Jan tell you?¡± she asked calmly, though I could sense the tension beneath her words. ¡°Not really,¡± I replied, feeling like an intruder into this conversation. The scent that had been hanging in the air was still present, making it clear that the hunter was still following us, but for some unknown motive. ¡°But I saw you fighting and it didn''t look like you were doing very well.¡± ¡°What¡¯re you trying to say?¡± Her voice had gone cold now as if daring me to answer her question. It made me feel uncomfortable knowing that just yesterday we had lost so many of our people yet here she was appearing unfazed by it all. I chose my words cautiously so as not to offend her. ¡°Your fighting was brave and impressive, every movement you made was quick and precise. But there were just too many enemies for one person to fight.¡± A slight blush crept up her cheeks as she tried to hide her embarrassment behind a cough. ¡°That''s true... there were a lot of them so we decided to make a break for it and head south. Though not on the road.¡± The further we went, the more I sensed that something was wrong. Somehow, in the discussion, while Kate listed off stones and their power expressions, we separated from the Kaivan. They had broken off slightly, crouching in the shadows of a boulder. She noticed at the same time as I. "Why are they over there?" she asked, nodding her head in their direction. ¡°They¡¯re worried,¡± I said, still unsure of how to say that I basically ¡®smelled¡¯ a possible enemy, like some sort of bloodhound, like some sort of animal. I knew I needed to say something, but I really did not want that sort of comparison in anyone¡¯s mind, let alone Kate¡¯s. I was being impractical though. I needed to say something! ¡°Why¡¯re they worried? About what?¡± she asked slowly, cautiously. ¡°I¡­ I think they might have smelled something.¡± ¡°Like what?¡± she said. Her eyes widening a fraction. ¡°Did you smell something too?¡± I grimaced. ¡°I¡¯m not confident, but I think it might be mikuya following us.¡± "What?!" Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.5.12 I was filled with a mixture of emotions when I saw that Kissen had separated. If she thought there was a credible threat, then why did she let me walk ahead? I would expect that behavior from Larissen, maybe, but not her. Did she have another plan in mind? I tried putting myself in her place, but I still had trouble fathoming her intentions. When I alerted Sir Kate that the Jungleborn were following us, I heard Lieutenant Muleater¡¯s demand for proof. In response, I shrugged and told her I was uncertain but that I thought I caught their scent. Unfortunately, she wanted something more concrete, and then realized that the Kaiva siblings had fallen so far behind that the humans thought they had separated, and in fact, that might have been the Kaivan siblings'' intention. I could still spot them lurking in the distance, but they were well concealed, and if I had not spotted them moving, then I likely would have failed to notice them. The humans did not take the news well, but without recourse, and with the possibility that the mikuya were behind the siblings'' disappearance (they were not, but I kept that to myself), we began picking up the pace, starting to jog, during which, Kate stayed by my side to ''scout¡¯ the way ¡°I can¡¯t believe we haven¡¯t caught up to those kun yet,¡± Kate said, eyes focused ahead. "Assuming they are ahead of us," I answered. "Right, but you gotta stay positive." Kate shrugged, acting surprisingly optimistic. She easily kept pace with me, her taller frame giving her a long stride while I labored to keep up. ¡°Well going off that assumption, they are faster than us,¡± I responded, my voice colder than intended. "But why would they have gone ahead without telling us?" "Scouting? Maybe they got tired of waiting around for the rest of us? I don''t think the wyrkwik could have caught them without us noticing." "Anything''s possible," I said. ¡°True. But speaking of how fast your friends are, why aren¡¯t you running ahead with them instead of staying back here?¡± So many reasons weighed on my mind, but I wasn''t ready to give voice to them. So instead, I called back upon a joke. ¡°You promised me sword practice,¡± I replied instead. "Priorities." And then we came upon the fork in the gorge where an ancient river must have split. As we were ahead of the rest of the party, we stopped to wait for the rest. I knew that if the Kaiva wanted to follow us, they could track our scent, but Muleater seemed like the sort that would be upset if we chose a direction without her input. And so, we waited. Well, that and another reason. When we reached the fork, up ahead on the left I caught sight of the mikyua meohr, the one covered in vines and moss with green glowing eyes. I grabbed Kate and pulled her back out of view. It was far in the distance, and standing upright, not making any efforts to hide itself. It likely knew we were here, and it had no qualms of returning the favor. Such alien motivation. "Wha?" she asked, tensing as our bodies tangled against the cliff-face. "One of them is up ahead," I explained, the color partially draining from Kate''s face. ¡°...gods. They¡¯re herding us. Not even being subtle about it.¡± ¡°That..." I thought about it, and could not disagree, although I failed to understand why, unless there was a trap ahead. "That could be it," I finished. I was interested in how Kate would play this. Were it me, I would lay a false trail and then stealthily double back and sneak past the mikuya meohr. Because if the Jungleborn wanted the humans to head to the right, then that was the direction that they absolutely should avoid. Even I felt reluctant to take the right path, and the Jungleborn had previously demonstrated a degree of passivity to me. But at the same time, taking the left path just seemed too risky. What if the Jungleborn had anticipated our decision? What if they were laying in wait for us on the other side? ¡°We¡¯ll wait for the rest then decide,¡± Kate said. ¡°But I¡¯ve got a feeling I¡¯ll be showing you the basics of sword work sooner rather than later, and I don¡¯t mean as training.¡± A little over ten minutes later, Muleater, Ken, and the civies. Muleater gave the mikuya a grim look, standing strong and in plain sight herself. The mikuya had yet to budge since we first saw it. ¡°First the road, now the gorge, but why?" Muleater asked, thinking aloud. "If they could kill us or capture us, why not just do so?¡± ¡°Think it¡¯s a bluff?¡± Ken asked. Or a double-bluff, but without springing a trap it would be difficult to tell for certain. Muleater hesitated before speaking again: ¡°The left path leads further south... but what dangers will we find there? Can we survive if we take that route? Neither option looks good...." She pulled out a square piece of quartz that had a yellow vein running through it. She held it flat on her palm and the quartz slowly rotated until it pointed more towards the left than the right. "This is our best chance," she said reluctantly. "If we make it through this unscathed, well, that''s something." ¡°Through the wyrkwik though?¡± Ken asked, his voice laced with a hint of doubt. Gregory swallowed audibly. ¡°Are... are we sure? I have obligations in that direction-" he pointed to the right "-which way is that again?" Kate rolled her head and cricked her neck, her expression daring them to challenge her. Unsheathing one of her swords and tossing it up with a twirl, she caught it and gave a playful slash. ¡°Should be fun,¡± she said, though her tone sounded partially forced to my ears. Muleater put away her quartz, her eyes lingering on mine for a few moments longer before turning to address Kate. ¡°Did you not come across the other Kun?" I hesitated before shaking my head, offering no other reason as I suspected Muleater could discern falsehoods. Ken scoffed at my answer while Muleater nodded slowly in understanding. "They would have been useful," she said, her tone pointedly directed at Ken Guardson. Kate winced under Muleater''s scrutiny and licked her lips nervously, shooting me a swift glance before answering. "I thought they were scouting ahead," she said uncertainly. Ken laughed mockingly and crossed his arms over his chest, looking between us expectantly. "You thought, or were you too busy playing with your newest pet?" My anger surged and I forced myself not to respond, my knuckles whitening as I balled my hands into fists. Muleater stepped in between us before matters escalated further, her words firm but gentle. "Regardless, prepare yourselves. We can discuss this later. And this will be discussed." Muleater glared at me, while Ken smirked. We inched forward, eyes scanning every nook and cranny for hints of trouble. The sun crept higher in the sky, casting an orange glow as we moved closer to our destination. Soon, the trees began to thin out, and I could just make out the silhouette of a large moss and vine covered beast ahead. Muleater paused and motioned for us to huddle together. She pointed towards the bear and whispered, ¡°Anyone have any ranged weapons?" She glanced between the guards who shook their heads, and then lingered on Gregory who shrugged helplessly. "Artificed weapons are-" he started to make an excuse, but Muleater stopped him with a held up hand. "You''re friends with my niece. That takes a certain amount of-" "-is now really the time?!" Kate snapped. Muleater scoffed, then shook her head. "Well, that means we''ll have to take it in close-ranged and smart. Flanking tactics?" she asked. Kate laughed, "Nah, I''ll show you how it''s done." She winked at me, and then began jogging towards the beast. "Kate!" Janet called after her. But when Kate failed to cease or slow down, in fact, only speeding up, Janet groaned, "After her!" She and Ken took off at a sprint to catch up, but whether it was to stop her or confront the beast together, I knew not. I approached more cautiously, with the civies trailing after me, torn between fear of being left exposed, and fear of approaching the infested meohr. The beast was impressive, I will give it that. This was the first time I had seen it close under the light of day. Its horns were curved and black, gray and molting vines and tendrils snapped with every one of its twitches, piercing in and out of the flesh, almost animating it in a grotesque mockery of what a meohr should look like. Its eyes shone green in a way that was clearly supernatural. It was not a beast I would want to fight, as it towered over even the humans, nearly three yards tall. And yet, Kate raced towards it without a care in the world. In fact, I thought I heard her laughing, like some berserk valkyrie. My heart raced as I watched the beast from afar, unsure of what it could do or how I should proceed. I had Illusions, but I would not be showing that card, not even in the direst of situations. If matters truly deteriorated, then I could always escape. Except, that would mean... leaving Kate to perish. Not that she failed to deserve such a fate. Emotions warred within me, even when they should have been the farthest thing from my mind. And then there was the stench, the pheromones or whatever it was that the creature released. These scents were not peaceful nor intoxicating, not smelling of burnt cinnamon. No, instead, it stank of resignation and deception; whatever secrets this creature held, I did not want to be party to them. Kate moved with a speed that belied her size, feet barely touching the ground as she fled forward. Behind her, a cloud of dust and rocks erupted into the air as if a bomb had gone off. With every desperate step she took, images of being devoured alive by the infested meohr flashed in her head. She reached it just in time as the meohr started to bring its heavy hand down with tendrils whipping out from its fingers. Taking quick aim, Kate lunged forward, thrusting her long bastard sword up through its gaping jaws and halfway up to hilt. The rank smell of rage and hatred filled my nostrils as I breathed in deeply, feeling an underlying anger radiating from the beast that was more powerful than any fear or pain it should have felt at having such a weapon embedded in its throat. Something was wrong here and I could not help but to question why. Before I could answer that question however, Kate had already begun her next maneuver. She released her grip on the sword and spun in one smooth motion, her face passive yet determined as her hands flew upward to grab both of her short swords which she had hidden away in their sheaths at her hips. Completing the twirl, she faced the bear once more with two gleaming blades now ready. The creature roared ferociously as it tried to shake out the bastard sword stuck between its jaws and throat. Kate activated some sort of ancient dance around the raging bear of an infested meohr, slipping aside nimbly each time it swung its head back to snap at her. As if in a trance, she began slashing furiously at its flank, driving her blades deeper than expected until finally its movements slowed and it collapsed onto the ground lifelessly. Fear seized me as I watched. Mixed emotions warred. I felt horror for both the creature and worried for Kate and hated myself for feeling anything at all. But I felt a strange connection with this creature; yet, I liked Kate and had no idea if the vine covered meohr would be an ally or not. There was no time to think. "Look out!" I screamed to Kate as the meohr leapt on top of her, blocking my view of her. Without hesitation, I flew towards them, with Muleater and Ken close behind. The beast remained motionless, seeming to relish in the panic that enveloped us all except itself. Its eyes still twinkled with life, yet it refused to move. What were its motives? "Kate!" Muleater shouted desperately, running forward, but not as quickly as I passed by her. Gregory continued to shout out her name, his voice shaking with dread. Meanwhile, Ken held his sword at the ready, never letting down his guard as he constantly searched their surroundings for signs of attack. I reached Kate first and saw past the meohr''s huge figure. It didn''t take a breath or make any effort to close its wounds; even worse I could feel its amusement at our distress. At that moment I realized just how different these mikuya really were. Sir Kate lay still, pinned under the immense mass of the creature. A creature which did not breathe nor twitch nor move. Were it not for the scent pervading off of it, I would have been fooled by its act as well. Why it chose to play dead, I could not fathom. Grunting, Kate said, ¡°I''m fine. I just need a little help, that''s all.¡± The beast before her seemed to stretch up for miles; its torso the size of a sofa and built with thickly interwoven plant-like material and flesh. It oozed a sickening sap-like blood onto the ground and over Kate¡¯s body, leaving only her neck and head safe from harm. ¡°How¨C¡± Muleater started to ask before catching herself ¡°No, hold on. We''ll get you out. Greg, Ken, get ready to pull. Manny, Beast, we''ll lift. Grab hold of the flank and get ready to¨C¡± ¡°Wait!¡± Kate cried out in protest, ¡°It''s not that bad¨C¡± Before she could finish Muleater cut in harshly: ¡°Yes it is! Crown only knows how you''re not dead already. What were you thinking?!¡± ¡°Is now the time?¡± Ken asked quietly. ¡°Yes. Now get ready!¡± Muleater shouted as they all stepped forward at once. I moved to stand beside her but she shoved me away, forcing me to cross Kate and take up my position opposite the Gregory where he was preparing to drag Kate out once a portion of clearance was afforded. We reached under as far as we could manage while Ken and Muleater grabbed the thickest vines they could find. Muleater let out an almighty cry: ¡°Lift!¡± Ken and Muleater strained with all their might against the weight of the mammoth meohr. A vine snapped like a gunshot, releasing a rancid puff of dust that made me gag and choke. Sickeningly, I noticed that neither Ken nor Muleater were saying much, and their mouths were clamped tightly shut. Had they knowingly let me inhale that toxic dust without warning? Or was this some sick test of loyalty? Although I held no fear for the dust, it smelled foul enough to drive me away from it. As I pulled on Kate, I noticed a slight give at the same time as the boy. ¡°Almost there,¡± Gregory Silverborn said through gritted teeth. With a fierce determination, he and I both pulled at Kate until she slid an inch, then two more. But something lodged. The meohr jerked suddenly with each tug on Kate''s body. She cried out in agony, ¡°My swords! I can¡¯t get them out!¡± ¡°Leave the damn swords behind!¡± barked the Muleater. ¡°We''ll get replacements later.¡± Suddenly, we heard a loud growl coming from deep within the beast''s throat, causing us to pause momentarily in fear before we began pulling again even harder. ¡°-From where?¡± Kate panted, her lungs desperately needing air. The putrid stench had almost choked her moments before and she was loath to waste any breaths on arguing. She stood firm in her convictions. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. ¡°Let them go!" Muleater bellowed. "Heave!" Ken, myself, and Muleater all pushed with every ounce of strength they had. The creature shifted. There was a sickening slurp, a scratching sound, and then Gregory and I were frantically tugging at Sir Kate, drawing her away from where she had been wedged until she had cleared the meohr by at least ten feet. Notably, the meohr failed to budge other than a pained groan, which I was sure the humans attributed to a death knell. Besides, they had other things upon their mind. "We were in close proximity. Do you think we may have been infested?" Ken asked warily. "Crown forbid," Muleater replied solemnly. Before we went our separate ways, Kate moved towards the meohr¡¯s throat to reclaim her bastard sword. The meohr radiated an eerie sense of watchfulness but no other physical signs of life; yet I could not shake the feeling that it was still alive. My senses tingled in warning and Muleater seemed to pick up on my uneasiness as Kate took another step closer to its open maw. ¡°What?¡± she inquired, understanding my sudden concern as one experienced with Kunbeorn typically would. ¡°Kate, wait!¡± Kate froze, hardly daring to breathe as she weighed up her chances of getting away from the bear. For a moment, there was peace between them; the meohr seemed content to remain still and silent, no longer bringing with it the terrible smell that had been so overpowering before. Ken was busy scanning the rocks for any signs of danger, but his face remained grim, "still nothing." Muleater stepped closer to me, so close that I had to look up at her chin. Her hand rested on the hilt of her blade, a reminder of the power she held over my life, or at least that she thought she did. I was ready to drop an Illusion on her at the first twitch, and I just hoped that I would be fast enough to preserve my life if she turned hostile. I doubted that it would turn hostile, but still, fear and doubt lingered in my mind as I thought about how easy it was for the humans to resort to lethal levels of violence. And now, Muleater was turning her attention fully upon me, looming over me and my diminutive form. ¡°Before, you noticed something amiss before the rest of us,¡± she said. ¡°Are we at risk? Were there more infested following us?¡± We were still near enough to the infested meohr, the still living creature who was feigning death, that the creature could listen in to our conversation. A spike of curiosity wafted off of it with the conversation. Curiosity and warning mixed together. Was this a test, then? While it was true, I did know that more of the mikuya followed us, and that the meohr was still aware, I felt that divulging these secrets now would worsen any future interactions I had with the terrifying parasitic creatures. But I had to say something. I settled on putting up a weak showing. ¡°I¨CI¡¯m not sure,¡± I said, hoping that would be enough for him to let it go. ¡°But it was something," Muleater insisted. "No wariness is unfounded with these monsters. What caught your attention? You are worried. Why?¡± Her voice held a hint of aggression that immediately set the guards on edge. All eyes were suddenly on me, and I felt a sense of unease creep into the air as Gregory stood next to Kate, looking at her expectantly, as though she would turn upon me for holding back secrets of their enemy, as ridiculous as their assumptions would seem, accurate or not. ¡°I thought I smelled something,¡± I said, which was the truth¡ªat least part of it. Gregory scoffed in disbelief and shook his head. He seemed more interested in trying to win Kate''s attention rather than seeking out any real solution to our common problems. The Caravan Master Manny Stillson stepped in before the situation became worse and suggested that we not discard my abilities as a Kaiva nose so hastily, though the guards seemed hesitant to agree. Meanwhile, Kate impulsively took a risk by jumping onto a nearby boulder for a better view. ¡°If the beasts share lands with the wyrkwik, then how can we really know they aren¡¯t working together?¡± Ken put forward. "Perhaps Charson was right." ¡°Don¡¯t be daft," Manny said. "The infested are a blight to all life. Not even the kun would willingly infect themselves.¡± I thought I detected a smug satisfaction emanating from the meohr, once again confirming my suspicions of it listening in on our conversations. the fact that the creature understood our language was a concern, or would have been, were I its prey. ¡°You want to know what I noticed?" I asked Muleater, firming up and meeting her glare, eye to eye. I dropped all pretenses of timidity, as my tremulous behavior failed to have the impact I desired. "Then plainly, I will tell you. I smell them. The mikuya, wyrkwik, infested, what have you. They are watching us, but they are not so close as to attack. Not yet-" I caught myself before I added more to the statement, a potential lie that might be caught, that this was all that I knew. Muleater nodded, musing to herself. Kate quickly took the opportunity to ask for her sword. When no one denied her, she hurried over and heaved it from the ground. The meohr still didn''t stir but an unwelcome scent replaced the bloodied atmosphere, and Kate ran away with her weapon in hand. We were not able to free her two short swords that were buried deep in the acting-corpse; Muleater deemed it best to move on as soon as possible. Kate was not happy about this decision and voiced her disapproval as we moved away from the purportedly-slain beast. As we left our weapons behind us, a sense of dread followed us; Kate was the first to pick up on it. ¡°You still smell them?¡± she asked me. I took a deep breath through my nostrils and nodded. ¡°The same as before," I said. ¡°Then they¡¯re trailing us,¡± she said grimly. Muleater spoke up then, her voice tense. ¡°The question is why?¡± she said, turning towards the Caravan Master for answers. He hesitated, wiping away the sweat and grime from his face with an old handkerchief. ¡°That is a heavy question asked of me, Lieutenant,¡± Manny Stillson enunciated slowly. Gregory Silverborn scoffed in disbelief at his words. ¡°He probably doesn¡¯t know,¡± Gregory said under his breath. The Caravan Master drew in a heavy breath, his eyes shadowed with dread and loathing. "No, youngling, I in fact do know, unfortunately." Manny spoke as if he were admitting to something that could not be changed. "The Jungle-rot, the infested, the wyrkwik, they are a disease. They spread across the marshes and the forests, corrupting nature and wildlife." The weight of his words hung like a tangible thing in the air. Gregory rolled his eyes. "We know that much already." Muleater leaned forward, his voice low and urgent. "Enough," she halfheartedly reprimanded Gregory, before asking Manny, "What is their typical behavior?" A flicker of fear crossed the Caravan Master''s face before he replied, "Their behavior is cancerous. Tumorous warts. Half dead-no, zombies. Yes, that is their behavior." "But what does that mean?" Muleater pressed. "Their infestation is well called the living vegetation," the Caravan Master said somberly. "They spread through trees and plants, their corrupted animals remain hidden as guards, or range to hunt prey to further corrupt." He looked from one person to another, as if gauging their reactions. "At least, that is how they behave to the south. Here, there is not much in the way of plant life to animate." "Has the Caravaneers Guild experience with them then?" Ken asked. "In some ways, yes," Manny Stillson admitted. His voice dropped to a whisper as he continued, "When Caravans encounter them in the jungles, there are seldom survivors." He paused for emphasis before adding, "When mercs are contracted to find them, they report wagons still laden with goods, but void of life, with evidence of combat and sometimes remains." His jaw clenched in remembered horror. Naturally, the wagons are collected and sterilized. But the cost in lives is high. If attacks occur infrequently, we pay for the woodlands surrounding the route to be burnt. Should the corruption have spread too close to the route, the infested often retaliates and the results are dire. Those routes are lost, and new roads must be funded. Only the barriers wrought by fire and vast stretches of burnt and poisoned land keep the corruption from claiming the entire land" The weight of the Caravan Master''s words hung heavy in the air as we all contemplated the dark fate that awaited us if we erred in our escape, or if we crossed the mikuya again. Truthfully, they sounded terrifying from the caravaneer''s perspective. Just thinking of a parasite invading my brain, leaving me agentless, without control of my own body... I felt a shiver cross my back, like the prickling heat of an early summer morning. It was not a cold sweat, but an excited one that started at the base of my neck and ended in my fingertips. I tried shaking the feeling with a question. ¡°They require verdant lands?¡± I asked, adopting some of the mannerisms of the Caravan Master. Sir Kate nodded along to my question, and flashed me a small smile. It may have held hints of condensation, as though a pet just performed a remarkable trick. Gregory Silverborn frowned. ¡°That they do,¡± the Caravan Master answered. ¡°Then what in the fallen gods¡¯ forgotten names are they doing here?!¡± Ken demanded. The Caravan Master shook his head slowly. ¡°This is beyond their habitat. I cannot say. But I hope they have not set their sights north of the divide.¡± "It seems that these monsters have a worse reputation to the south than the ones that ambushed us. Otherwise, if they are so fearsome, thow did we escape?" Gregory challenged with irreverence. ¡°Watch your tone, boy.¡± Ken said. ¡°We barely escaped, and that lease was bought with the blood of good men and women." "But the creatures could have kept attacking," Kate said, "Remember, they pulled back at the end. Do they normally retreat when they''re winning?" I felt goosebumps rise on my arms when she said it. Why indeed. ¡°It is most unusual,¡± Manny insisted, "though at the time, I attributed it to Alchemist Charson''s efforts. Who knows what concoctions or alchemics he could have unleashed." ¡°Mm.¡± Muleater turned around to address him, her hand rested on the pommel of her sword as she scanned behind them for any signs of additional attackers. Ken spat out a dismissive word and folded his arms over his chest. Glancing back towards the surrounding boulders and cliffs, he asked tersely, ¡°So you think there is an explanation? Or should we get moving?¡± "Walk and talk," I offered him, as he did have a good point. Once we began moving, I further asked Kate, ¡°What more can you tell me of your escape from the ill-fated ambush?¡± ¡°Hey yeah, it was weird,¡± Kate said. ¡°But I think we should instead be looking at why they''re up here at all.¡± ¡°And blockading the highway,¡± Muleater said grimly. "How many other caravans have they attacked?" ¡°But are they blockading?¡± the Caravan Master asked. ¡°We have not observed trade interruptions, and the highway is the only arterial for trade inland from Southbridge to Bath.¡± "You know, there was something odd that I noticed before the ambush," I said, deciding to fish for more details by offering tantalizing bait. ¡°There was a crate that smelled of the mik- I mean, the wyrkwik- that I noticed.¡± "What?!" Muleater demanded, at the same time that Ken swore, and Manny winced. "Why didn''t you say anything earlier?" Kate asked, looking somewhat hurt. As though she were entitled to everything that I knew. Ridiculous girl. With strong calloused fingers- "I was unsure how you would take it, and I wasn''t certain." I shrugged. "Whose crate was it?" Muleater demanded. Manny''s wince evolved to a grimace. "Maybe the alchemist''s? I saw him checking on it-" "-when?" Ken demanded. "How could you see anything from the cage wagon?" I coughed, wincing at the reminder of the dehumanizing time. But I answered, albeit weakly, "During a period where I was allowed to walk, I caught its scent. It was with Joel and you, at the time." "Huh. It was that crate, huh?" Ken said, looking faraway. "I hardly remember it. But it was Charson''s alright." "Care to add anything?" Muleater asked Manny Stillson, but Manny shook his head. "What each merchant ships is their own business. It is the job of the highguard to prevent smuggling, as you are well aware." "Playing that way, huh?" Kate scoffed, sneering really. Gregory also looked upset with the Caravan Master''s weak excuse. "When we return to civilization," Muleater said, "Then there will be questions. And you will answer them." "You have no-" "-My people were slaughtered, our lives were endangered, and our nation has been invaded by a hostile organism!" Muleater snapped, cutting off Manny. "This goes far enough that the inquisitors might get involved. I can''t wait for you to give them that same line." Manny swallowed, his throat bobbing, but he weakly shook his head and said nothing further. We continued traveling, conversation died away after that, except for the soft sounds of night and our footsteps on gravel and dried lichen. Kate kept close to me, always a step or two behind Gregory''s stride. When she caught my gaze, I gave her a hard stare. She pulled back for a moment then scurried ahead to catch up to Gregory again. The wind picked up around us as we made our way deeper into the gorge and only started to calm once night came. We camped in a hidden recess where the walls of the gorge folded in on itself. My small frame was used more as a stuffed animal than anything else while Kate hugged herself against the chill of night. That night, while I was keeping watch away from Muleater''s side of the gorge, and we were both keeping watch at the same time, as the humans failed to trust me, I heard a voice calling out to me. ¡°Kitten.¡± That had been Kissen''s nickname for me when we were together, yet it wasn''t her voice that called; it was masculine, with a touch of growl, Larissen. Was he here because Kissen sent him or something happened to her? As much as I wanted to believe she sent him, I doubted that we would willingly approach me if he had any choice in the matter. I sought him out and saw his faint outline against the cliff face, away from the humans. He beckoned for me to follow him, but from too far away for me to catch up, let alone the humans on watch with me. Muleater either failed to hear him or pretended not to as part of some plan of hers. With all that I knew about her, either could be true. If she was feigning ignorance, I couldn''t help but wonder if it was her way of testing me or prey upon the Kaiva siblings after they had abandoned us. Had she really failed to hear his voice? If so, I shuddered at the thought of how easy it would be for someone to slip past her unnoticed. I had to think fast and act in a way that kept my choices open. Taking a deep breath, I mouthed one word: "Why?" As he said nothing in response, I felt my heart sink. No matter how much I tried to force my words out louder, there was no answer from him. After what felt like an eternity, he finally moved his body ever so slightly¡ªin a manner that showed his agitation with the task of finding me amidst the humans. I couldn''t help but worry that something had happened to Kissen or that he somehow blamed me for the situation we were in. ¡°Kissen,¡± he whispered, pausing, weighing the options. ¡°Kitten¡¯s help is needed.¡± His voice wavered almost as if he knew the request was a burden. But I failed to make that decision easily; leaving now would sacrifice all of the hard work I had put in to build up trust with these humans. To go to Kissen''s aid meant joining a weaker group, especially if she had been hurt. But Kissen¡­ she had been welcoming, the first real and positive contact I had since arriving in this mothersworn world. I needed to at least learn more before making a decision. ¡°What happened?¡± I asked, moving carefully so Muleater remained (hopefully) oblivious. ¡°This one will lead to my sister and my sister will be saved,¡± Larissen said, offering little in terms of an explanation. But he was still beckoning me to follow, leaving little room for discussion. Was this a trap? What would be the purpose of doing so? Were they planning to separate me from the humans before striking? So many thoughts raced through my head, that my heart quickened; I felt torn between two choices. Should I stay where it was safe or take a leap of faith into an uncertain world? Larissen was already leaving, looking over his shoulder with expectation. ¡°For my sister,¡± he said in a hushed voice, yet still laden with emotion, with desperation. This was no ploy. He was no actor. Kissen really was in dire straits if Larissen had returned to the humans he hated so. But did that mean that following him off to who knows where was the correct call? Surely there were better ways to go about this. Should I follow him now, or wait until morning when we would reach the humans? The terrain was broken and uneven; it would be difficult for us to travel through it in such darkness. Larissen had jumped up on a rock some distance away from us and was facing me with an unreadable expression. From that far away, I failed to discern any details of his face in the night. He waited impatiently as if expecting me to follow him immediately, but my mind frantically turned over these thoughts, considering all possible outcomes. Tactically speaking, I knew that ignoring Larissen altogether was my best option¨Cdespite feeling guilty over what may have happened to Kissen¨Cas I had no idea of her current situation or if I could even help her at all. On one hand, I felt obligated to Kissen for her efforts even though they had been unsuccessful. But could I justify leaving the humans alone in such darkness? Yes, they deserved no mercy nor devotion. But could I justify risking my position with the humans who carried rations and supplies and offered a method of passage through human settlements? I paused, still conflicted. I wanted to help Kissen and knew that I could do so if I left the camp. But, I was scared of what would happen if I did leave. Larissen had seen me and my gesture but Muleater had yet to notice anything out of place. I crept back into the camp, careful not to alert anyone else. Larissen hissed, anger and desperation as I turned my back. But I was just checking on the humans, on Muleater, on the supplies. I tried waving him down and gesturing for him to wait. If I was to accompany him, I had one more task before I could leave. To ensure the best outcome, I needed someone sympathetic to my cause when my absence was noticed. So, I nudged Kate awake, anxious for her reaction. ¡°Whau¨Cmy turrr?¡± she asked groggily, wiping sleep from her eyes. I shushed her before she could draw even more attention. I needed to explain. But how could I explain to her with gestures that I was leaving and why? Surely speaking aloud would alert Muleater and remove the choice from me altogether. Although perhaps that would be ideal. But no, Kissen needed help, and I would not abandon her in her time of need. Especially when I could gain another favor. But only if I could keep the humans content. Could I keep the humans content? Maybe Kate, I thought, I hoped. The confusion on Kate¡¯s face was clear as she shook her head in response to my pantomime. I tried again, repeating the motions and nodding my head, but still she refused to understand. Frustrated, I clenched my fists and threw them towards the sky, looking for something that would show her what I wanted. As I showed her the motions for a third time, something in her seemed to click¨Cthough now it seemed like she had only gained understanding so that she could decide if she truly disliked the plan or not. I could think of no other way to keep her from alerting those around us before I left, so I put my faith in her that she would keep silent vigil in my place. I was about to leave, when her hand shot out and grasped my wrist. I could clearly see the fear in Kate¡¯s eyes. She wanted me to take her with me¨Ca foolish idea considering she would be noisy, poorly trusted by the Kaiva, and would prompt Muleater to follow us with all haste once her absence was discovered. No, the best place for Kate was here in camp, covering for my absence. Yet, she desperately clung to my arm. She was not letting go. I needed to give her something to guarantee my return, as nonsensical as it seemed. But I had an idea. I carefully removed my leather jacket, the only thing of true value I owned, and placed it gently around her shoulders. She hesitated for a moment before finally nodding in acknowledgement; she knew my gesture meant more than just a piece of clothing. My heart heavy, I made my way back outside to find Larissen waiting impatiently. We couldn''t speak too loudly being so close to camp, but his urgent whisper broke the silence, "What took you so long? Time is of the essence if Kissen is to be saved!" Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.5.13 Larissen ran southwards, bounding from crevice to stone, loping on all fours as only the cat people could do. I was tired from the hour, nervous, but I was also ''Blessed'' with an enhanced body. I should have been able to keep up. Operative word, should. After several moments, he realized I had begun trailing behind him. He came to a stop when he cleared a slag field, where twisted rusted hulks and lava rocks littered the ground. He crouched and waited, his tail flicking back and forth in clear agitation. When I reached his position, he glared impatiently at me. "Hurry!" he hissed, the sound of his voice disappearing into the wind. His whiskers quivered. And then he continued onward, setting just as hard a pace as before. Soon, he once again outpaced me, and once again, he was forced to pause and wait. I wondered what situation Kissen could have found herself in to require such haste, so much haste that even her brother was unable to spend time preparing me and himself for whatever situation we would be encountering. I had begun to develop a few suspicions, and were it not for the ace up my sleeve, my ''Illusion,'' I likely would not have had the confidence to continue following Larissen so blindly. But I did have that spell, which was a powerful enough trump card that I felt that any risks I faced could be overcome. Afterall, there was a chance that Kissen¡¯s life depended on my actions. Her life was worth at least some risk on my part. Or so I continued telling myself. Heading into danger was not my typical mode of operations. As we traveled, we passed more hulking ruins, so twisted and eroded that their original identity and purpose could not be divined, if they ever had a purpose. They might not have even been artificial. We passed two pools of bubbling oil, and one of those pools was aflame, casting the gully in orange flickering light¨Cwhich actually made it more difficult for me to see, as it was at once bright enough to disturb my night-eye, and cast dark shadows upon the innumerable debris. The walls of the gully began narrowing, and the floor began rising upward at a slight slope. After the fifth time that Larissen was forced to wait, he waited long enough for me to come close enough for him to scold me. ¡°Why is Kitten so slow?!¡± he demanded. I shrugged, "You''re fast." "Faster than a Marked kit nearing her prime?" He said in a dubious tone. In truth, I probably could have moved faster, but then I would end up exhausted whenever we got to wherever we were going, which presumably would be a place of danger. So instead, rather than admitting my sandbagging, I attempted a slight diversion. "I would keep up faster if I knew where we were going." ¡°These ones are going to my sister! And we must hurry!¡± he said, growing uncomfortable when I asked and seeming to interrupt himself. ¡°But why? What happened to her? What can we expect?¡± I pressured, but he was already turning, rushing off into the night. I rolled my eyes. Yes, this was not suspicious at all, I sarcastically mused. ¡°If it was not for Kissen,¡± I complained, as I started chasing after him. It was now a matter to discover what treachery awaited me. Of course, there existed a chance that Kissen truly had been injured, and that Larissen was responding to the situation poorly, but there were just too many discrepancies between Larissen¡¯s behavior and the alleged situation. Such as a large one: What would he have expected me to have done if Kissen was in danger? While I mused, I lost sight of Larissen more and more frequently. The terrain certainly did not help; sight lines were impossible to keep clear. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, I knew his heading¨Cin a gorge, as it had been narrowing, we were lacking in a diversity of directions to choose from. Either forwards or backwards. I began considering practicing Illusions once more¨Cthere had been a few ideas I had wanted to try, but had been unable to with people around¨Chowever, I could not be certain that Larissen was not watching me currently, and I preferred to keep Illusions secret, if at all possible. Because of these considerations, I would like to say that it was for this reason, and this reason alone, that I was caught off guard. I was passing yet another train sized rock when a clawed hand slashed out towards my chest. In that split second, I was caught by surprise. I was mid step, my position awkward, my center of balance in a bad place to respond. I saw a glint of glass in the palm as the fist opened, the momentum and the flat of the hand pushing it towards me. My thoughts just caught up, that it was Larissen¡¯s hand, and that was a glass vial in his hand, when that glass vial smashed against my chest. A saccharine smoke wafted up from the broken glass. I further lost my balance and fell backwards- Dizzy. Vertigo. I could barely tell up from down. The world spun. I tried getting back up, but stumbled. The sharp edges of gravel and worse cut through my fur. ¡°Wha¨C?¡± I managed to get out. My mental faculties were still present, but my perception was skewed; but my motor control lagged; speech proved more difficult, my mouth numb and somewhat unresponsive. ¡°Choosing the humans over kin of course had consequences,¡± Larrisen said, coming around and squatting down in front of above¨Cbelow¨Cbeside¨Cme. He was all I could focus on, but there were three or four of him dancing around me, all while he remained stationary. There were colors that should not have been there. Sounds that came from nowhere. A hallucinogenic, I realized, a strong one, and coupled with something else. Considerations: Larissen had obtained and deployed a glass vial of aeresolized hallucinogenic; the only source of such items I had yet encountered had been associated with the Apprentice Alchemist Charson; the same Alchemist had stated a strong desire to purchase me for parts; helping the Alchemist in this pursuit deviated extremely from the Kaiva¡¯s behavioral profile. ¡°Hhe hassh Khishennn?¡± I asked, slurring shamefully, but the intent should have been clear. ¡°Shush,¡± Larissen said smoothly. I felt something trace along my skin, I think my neck, but my nerves were on fire, burning. ¡°This one supposes it is proper to tell you why, before¨C¡± his voice continued to echo across the canyons, reverberating through my chest, the pressure forcing me further down in a spiral, and all the while the flaming burning sensation only grew. ¡°-this, for my sister.¡± I got the thrust of it, or I thought I did, but what did it matter? I was spiraling. I hurt. I ached. I felt blissful nirvana pouring down my nostrils and throat to drown me in acid. He was going to kill me. It hurt so good that I might have appreciated death. But Larissen was going to kill me; it was for a good cause, I was sure, to save Kissen¨Cbut could we trust the Alchemist¨Cbut I hurt¨Cbut I¨Cbut¨C The world slammed back around me. My right forearm burned, over my Mark. I recognized the feeling, it was the same as when a Talent unlocked or grew a new glyph. Something had just changed. Of course I was unable to take time to check my arm. I had to act. Stealth: 9/9 (+1) -> 1/9 Alchemical Immunity (Unlocked) (ineligible for growth) My senses had returned. And just in time. Larissen¡¯s hands were about my neck, pressing against my arteries. Already I grew light-headed, and this not from the aerosol drugs, but from the lack of oxygen reaching my brain. My eyes sharpened on Larissen. He continued throttling my neck; he was looking elsewhere; he could not even watch my face as he murdered me; not that I blamed him for his squeamishness. ¡°This is for my sister,¡± Larissen said, more to himself than anyone, as though he were justifying his actions. ¡°At least, This one shall be able to say that this was painless.¡± Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°And you-" I coughed "-called me a traitor.¡± I spoke more through a wheeze than any vocalization, as the pressure of his hands against my throat was compressing my vocal cords. The pressure slackened slightly, though his hands still pressed tightly enough to remain uncomfortable. His eyes widened and he glanced back down at my face. I stared back up at him. Comprehension dawned as he began speaking and interrupting himself, thinking out loud, perhaps for my benefit, though I doubted it. ¡°How is it that¨Cno, this matters not¨Cthis is a shame¨Cbut this still must be done.¡± Regardless of how he felt, I was not about to let him throttle me or worse. My thoughts went to my knife on my right thigh. I could reach it, and unsheathe it, but if his ears were as sharp as mine, then he would hear. And his claws were near my throat, near the very arteries and veins he was pressing against. Why he had chosen to strangle me instead of bleeding me dry, I did not know; it could even be a cultural preference for how little I knew. And while I did not know his reasoning, I preferred to keep my blood inside. Besides, even if I did draw that knife, and even if I successfully leveraged it; Larissen was still bigger than me, he was atop me, and I lacked confidence in my ability to successfully disable him even in the best of cases. And I did want to disable him, for I needed answers, and despite his attack, I still did not want to see him die. Despite the straits, the situation was not that dire. Not now that I had recovered from the hallucinogenic poison. Because I still had that one trump card, and I had been itching to try a new trick. But as with all new things, this took work. I focused, envisioned, what I wanted to create, as though I could wield the very fabric of the universe; and in a way, I could. I had created basic versions in the past, but nothing this intense, this startling. And for it to work, it would need to startle. I might not get more than one chance. So even as the edges of my vision turned green and the blankness of oxygen deprivation kicked in, I focused, down to the smallest fraction of an inch of what I wanted to see, and more importantly, of what I needed Larissen to see. ¡°Illusion,¡± I mouthed. ¡°Hu¨C¡± A flame bloomed to life in front of Larissen¡¯s face, in front of his eyes. This flame was white hot, or would be were it real. It covered all of Larissen¡¯s field of vision. By reflex, he jerked back. One of his claws nicked my skin, just barely penetrating my softer neck-fur. The second he started jerking back, I arched my back, thrusting him up and off of me; I scrambled to the side. ¡°Illusion,¡± I said, this time more powerfully able to focus. I kept from using anything tangible, as I needed to make my Spirit pool last, and I was also embarrassingly out of practice. The flame vanished, and a [Blur] covered me instead. I gained distance from Larissen and unsheathed my knife. He stopped slapping at his face and snarled. ¡°Tricks! This is as awful as the humans! Why my sister saw anything worthwhile in yourself, this is a mystery.¡± While he complained, he balanced himself, claws extended, he scanned his surroundings. His ears swiveled as I exhaled, and he turned my way, though his eyes failed to lock on. ¡°If not painlessly, then¨C¡± I was sure he would continue making threats, but my Illusion would not hold forever. As he was speaking, I was sidestepping away. He followed the faint patter of my feet, despite the fact that it should be barely audible over the wind. ¡°-so be it,¡± he finished his threat, beginning to stalk towards me. His eyes were more or less pointed towards me, but from his pupils I could tell he still had trouble seeing me exactly. I had about forty seconds of my Illusion left. I let it drop. He came to a stop, crouched and ready to pounce forward. His eyes saw me crouched, with my knife held in a reverse grip, which I hoped looked intimidating. ¡°Why do this?¡± I asked him, in the Kavia tongue, hoping to build enough empathy to jolt him from this madness, at least temporarily. ¡°To save my sister!¡± he snarled. What I wanted to say, was that it failed to make any sense, that he was acting like a crazed beast, and making terrible decisions. However, that would fail to work for so many reasons, and it would also reduce any building empathy. Afterall, how often did people respond sensibly when, in the heat of the moment, someone comes up and tells them that they are acting dumb? So instead, I asked him another question, one that I suspected would bring us to the root of the problem. ¡°Where did you get the vial?¡± I asked him. ¡°The accursed human,¡± he hissed and spat in Kaivan. ¡°The Alchemist Charson?¡± I asked, just to confirm. His hiss continued in a strong and angry confirmation. I could have asked him more about his motive, but I struggled to find a way to do so that failed to elicit the image of subservience, and bring up such an image would lead to the wrong sort of sympathy. I did not want him to associate me with that in any way. So instead, I shifted the target of accusations, to demonstrate we were on the same side. ¡°The human hurt Kissen?¡± I asked, allowing anger to tint my speech, all calculated. He spat in Kaivan, an affirmative. ¡°Where is the human, for vengeance.¡± Larissen growled. For a moment, I worried I misjudged him. But then he stood and clenched his fists and yowled to the sky. ¡°It will not save Kissen!¡± He released some of his pent up anger and anxiety. I thought of interrupting him, but this was good. As long as he was directing that aggression elsewhere, then he and I could continue a productive dialogue. And so I waited, until he had somewhat calmed down, and he finished. ¡°Only your body, for her life.¡± ¡°What has the human done?¡± I pushed. ¡°Poisoned my sister. The human will trade the antidote for you.¡± It sounded like a classic hostage con. And given the Alchemist''s personality, and his thoughts on us ''beasts,'' I thought it unlikely that Kissen would survive the ordeal, even if Larissen and I had cooperated with the Alchemist''s plans. Not that I would, of course. But this would take special attention to salvage, if it even was possible to salvage. But I owed it to Kissen to try. And, other than that, the Alchemist had effective tools that would bolster my own chances at survival. ¡°Lead me to them,¡± I said. ¡°This one will steal the antidote from him... and then we can gain vengeance.¡± He must have realized that he had a better chance of saving his sister this way, than of trying to kill me. He nodded slowly. ¡°Then follow,¡± he said. ¡°If this works, then my tongue will taste his blood.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you mean if this doesn¡¯t work?¡± I asked in the human tongue. ¡°No. In that case, it will be the human that tastes misery.¡± I nodded. I could not open an argument now, as it would risk the forward momentum that we both shared. I doubted he would redirect those hostilities back at me, but the possibility was there. After we got his sister back, if Larissen still crossed a line, then I would address it then, but not before. He motioned me to follow, and he slunk through the gloom at a slower pace, keeping low to the ground, and heading towards the eastern wall of the gorge. Unsurprisingly, he moved with the grace of a cat, near silent and impossible to see in the gloom. I crouched down and followed, but it was difficult once again for me to match. My pants rustled and brushed against themselves, my side hurt and left me over balanced, and I could feel blood dripping down from where my wounds had reopened in the scuffle. It hurt my professional pride to admit that Larissen was stealthier than me, but there were mitigating circumstances. As we traveled, I checked the newest glyph on my right forearm. Soon, we arrived. The air smelled of lingering caustics, with perhaps a hint of bleach and burnt hair. We slowed our pace, creeping along the cliffside as it protruded inward, into the gorge. The scent grew stronger, we were downwind. I realized that Larissen had led us at an oblique angle to approach them, so that we would be coming from both downwind and the other direction. I might not have thought of that, but I would like to think I would have. Soon, I heard the clinking and scraping of a mortar and pestle. I saw slight wisps of smoke rising towards us, stinging my eyes and nose. We slowed even further. I could smell Kissen, though it was mixed with bile and waste. And then, we could hear two sets of breathing: one normal; one damp and ragged. I reached Larissen as he paused, squatting near a soft corner. He held out an arm to the side and I paused, crouching alongside him. He glanced at me, then nodded towards where the cliffside receded back. It looked like a crevasse splitting off from the gorge, with the narrow path illuminated by what looked like firelight, but accented with green and purple. We heard a hiss from inside, then a male¡¯s voice. ¡°-gods worshiping boric powder! Is it too much to ask for substrates to cooperate? This isn¡¯t even an advanced purification!¡± It was Charson. A weaker voice from within moaned, ¡°...antidote.¡± ¡°Not unless your littermate returns with the specimen. I hope you animals are as capable as unsanitary¡­¡± ¡°-then water?¡± Kissen pled, more of a gasp. ¡°Rations are limited, beast. Now be silent.¡± My blood boiled. Intolerable. How dare this¨Cthis¨Cman do this! But before I could succumb to the torrent of rage and emotions best left ignored, I instead focused on a sliver of the feeling welling up in my chest. Cold anger. Rational. Logical. Manipulate the situation to resolve the situation in a useful manner. Larissen still held his hand out. A snarl of fury twisted his face, his fangs bared. I put a hand on his shoulder, telling him to wait. We had talked of this on the way here. He would wait. I would thieve. And once the antidote was secured, then¡­ well. That was a bridge I could cross later. ¡°Illusion.¡± Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.5.14 ¡°Illusion.¡± As I quietly uttered the word, my heart raced and the calm of a job settled in, my heart in my ears, my breathing controlled, my anxiety ebbing. This was my element, I reminded myself again and again. I distracted myself from all that could go wrong with what could go right. If I could do this before coming to this mothersworn world, then I could certainly do this with my magical power-up, as opposed to... as opposed to before. Though even with these new tools, I knew that perfect camouflage was impossible. Firelight danced across my lilac fur and dark clothing. I could not dally. But that did not mean I should move quickly and carelessly. No. But with surety and exactitude. For while I now had these new abilities, I was unsure what abilities Charson had: for all I knew, he may have had enhanced senses. Thus, at the correct sneaking pace, I rounded the corner and beheld the make-shift campsite that tried to be a laboratory. Charson was hunched over a boulder, which had been turned into a makeshift table for his alchemical tools. He worked diligently, writing in his leather bound notebook, checking the glass bulb atop the lantern, and stirring a concoction in the mortar and pestle. But while I was far from an expert of chemistry, to my senses, nothing that he had assembled resembled an antidote. As I took in the rest of the campsite, it became clear that Charson was working with limited options. No fire had been set for warmth and the only light came from one single lantern, which doubled as a bunsen burner. The smell of smoke must have been from Charson''s concoction. The most notable detail of the campsite was its proximity to a crevasse at the edge of the gorge. Just past the light cast by the lantern, darkness prevailed and any sense of direction was lost. Where exactly did the crevasse lead? I wondered. These thoughts and more washed over me as I considered my next move¨Call while knowing that time was running out and I still had yet to spot an antidote. Not that I knew what an antidote would look like. I did finally spot my primary objective. Slumped against a wall, mere feet from Charson, laid Kissen. Her chest heaved with each breath, sweat and grime plastered her fur. Her eyes were open but unseeing, her face twisted in agony. A wave of rage rose up inside me. My hair prickled at the nape of my neck as I swallowed hard and attempted to corral my emotions. Stealth I: 2/9 (+1) Mind: 73 (+1) Charson would pay for what he did. But a clinical part of me reminded me that vengeance came second. Saving Kissen came first. And besides, I was no killer. Well, mostly not. My thoughts traveled odd paths when I ought to have been focused on saving Kissen, on retrieving an antidote, and on neutralizing Charson. The Illusion had nearly run out. I had a decision to make. Proceed with my objectives, or retreat and regroup. Retreating and getting help from Larrisen seemed the smartest option. But Kissen seemed in a bad way. Her breaths came in short, wet wheezes and she curled up into a ball; signs of hypoxynation. I had moments left to make a decision: get help or risk everything to save Kissen now? In the end, the decision was easy. I inched forward, my heart thundering in my chest as I silently stalked toward Charson. His work had already entranced him, his head drooping near the flame, mumbling to himself as he thought aloud. The proximity to the light would worsen his night-eye. Were this back on earth, it would be near impossible for him to see anything but that directly before him. Here though? With seeming magic enhancing who-knows-what? I could not take that assumption for granted. But I had already committed to my course. I needed to act swiftly and surely; faltering now would lead to failure. So I pressed forward, and finally, I reached the edge of the wall directly behind him. I took shallow breaths as I quivered in anticipation. Only ten seconds had passed since I first cloaked myself with Illusion.Dropping it was always an option; doing so would give me some respite and the ability to re-engage if needed. But taking attention away from this task and expending energy on returning seemed both foolish and dangerous. So, I stayed focused and kept my Illusion active. My heart pounded as I entered armsreach of Charson, adrenaline surging through my veins. I kept my breathing shallow and light, the bare minimum to sustain me. Body: 62 (+1) Inching nearer with caution, I reached around him and felt towards his bandolier. Every nerve on the edge of my skin quivered as my fingertip grazed the vial, memorizing its shape before gripping it tightly and yanking it from its holster. I gingerly held it and made it disappear into my pocket before moving on to the next. Charson carried far more than a single vial after-all, and I had little clue as to their contents or purpose. However, one thing was clear: I absolutely could not let Charson have access to them. Body: 63 (+1) Spirit: 48 (+1) I reached around for another vial, my fingers certain, despite the fear and cortisol pumping through me. Sure fingers, required for surgeons and pockpickets alike. No time for nerves. I fell back on an old mantra as older training carried me forward. As I stole the vials, I could not help but wonder what horrors Charson kept in those glass tubes. I still had nightmares from the first concoction of his I had seen, that orange gas... I remembered seeing skin boiling off mikuya and the fallen humans- I clamped down on the stray thought before I shuddered and jeopardized my objectives. As I stole the third vial, he muttered to himself in a twisted language of science and violence. ¡°-overcooking enzymes. I¡¯ll hang her by his occipitals¡­ but what substitute? ...¡± The words sent chills down my spine, but I forced myself to ignore it. My focus had to remain on emptying his bandolier. With each passing moment, my hands threatened to shake, until finally, my mantra shattered, my training failed, and my digits began to tremble. It was suboptimal. On the fourth holster, I found it empty. My growing panic surged through me like a tidal wave as I realized that Charson could have taken any one of those vials without me noticing. Even then, he could be readying a chemical weapon to use against me. Stealth I: 3/9 (+1) My hand was still probing the empty holster when he spun. He knew I was there! Without time to think, I reacted. I made a rash decision. But I only had one chance, and I had no desire to face any of Charson''s weapons. I had my chance to strike and I seized it. Body: 64 (+1) In a flash of movement, in a burst of agility that surprised myself, I unsheathed my knife and whipped it around, positioning it at his throat, the threat obvious. His expression shifted from a smug anger to surprise, though I tried keeping towards his back, so I could not watch every twitch of his face. I could just imagine my blade glinting off the lantern light. But, imaginings aside, he had frozen. And I realized that I was unsure of exactly how to proceed. I would have to wing it. "Charson," I said, attempting to keep my voice low and threatening. I likely failed to succeed. "Fix her," I demanded, gesturing to Kissen''s limp form on the ground. "Fix who?" Charson asked, his irritating voice still smug and self-assured. He tried turning further away from the blade. I clicked my tongue from behind him, trying to act as intimidating as possible despite his towering height. "Fix. her." I repeated, tension leaking through my voice. Instead of fishing out an antidote, Charson complained. "That stupid cat failed such a simple task?" he asked rhetorically. "Obviously I could not trust a beast. No matter." He began reaching for something. "Uhb-bu-bu," I said, pushing my knife against Adam''s apple. I was thankful that my knife was dulled from the days of travel through the waste, as that dullness worked to my favor. A sharp razor would hardly be felt until it was too late for threats. I continued issuing those threats. "Unless you want a shave." The words left my mouth awkwardly, but I refused to back down. Unfortunately, Charson failed to be intimidated. Fortunately, I was not alone. "This cat has a name!" Larissen hissed, storming into the room and taking in the scene before him. When he saw Kissen lying motionless on the ground, he rushed towards her and collapsed beside her. "Sister!" he cried out in anguish, holding up her head and placing it upon his lap. Kissen¡¯s eyes flew open, they were glazed and foggy, smeared with a putrid gunk. ¡°Antidote! Now!¡± I seethed at Charson, pushing the knife further into his neck. Despite the threat, despite his untenable position, instead of fixing the problem that he had created, he merely chuckled. He chuckled! Why was he not worried? Either he simply held no value for his life, or he had an ace up his sleeve. ¡°Speak! What was the deal again, beast?¡± Charson smugly said towards Larissen. ¡°The instructions were to bring the specimen intact, yes?¡± A wave of fear washed over me. Had Larissen betrayed me? Yes, he had. But that was in the past. Or so I hoped. But if he had to choose between me and his sister? Even if the hope of success in following Charson''s instructions was impossibly slim... No, I was thinking nonsense. My thoughts must have been still muddled from the earlier concoction. Stay focused! I reminded myself. Mind: 74 (+1) ¡°I must pay compliments as they are due, however..." Charson trailed off. "You''ve achieved your goal whether or not you intended to do so.¡± Tension surged through the room as if lightning had struck. He was going to act. I needed to end this. But if I simply slew him, then the hopes of identifying the antidote would be impossible, and Larissen would blame me. But every moment we spent like this brought Kissen nearer death. And so, I channeled my angst into words, gritting out a question that could make or break this entire situation. "You can''t cure her, can you?" I asked. Larissen''s hiss filled the room in a promised threat, while Charson scoffed in derision. "Of course I can. Given enough time and materials, I can cure anything." He sounded smug, even as he was outnumbered, even at knife-point, even as Kissen lay at death''s door. My feelings of unease grew. But I had not come this far to be shut down by his bravado. And since I had come this far, I may as well go further still. "But you don''t have what you need and you''re not even an expert!" I prodded, hoping to prompt Charson into revealing his hand towards Larissen. "Not even an alchemist if you can''t cure your own poison." But he seemed unbothered, except irritated that a lowly beast would deign to take his attention. He smirked at me, despite the face I was to his back, I could still see the edge of the sneer. "You cannot even fathom, beast." This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. It was becoming increasingly difficult to feign level headedness; my voice began to waver just slightly. But I absolutely needed to entrap Charson for the sake of Larissen''s loyalty. I needed to end this. So, I tried calling him his bluff. "You can''t do it, can you?" I asked. "I bet you don''t even have an antidote.¡± Larissen whined piteously as Kissen struggled for breath on the brink of death. So easily could Larissen change allegiance if even the hint of an antidote was offered. I had to make sure he and I remained aligned to save her life. We could absolutely ill-afford infighting at this stage. Charson scoffed. What he said next caught me by surprise and made the fur on my back stand. ¡°Why would I even make the attempt?¡± Charson asked. He was admitting his motives? Now? Why- He began reaching for the bag at his side. My clawed hand clamped down hard on his wrist. To ensure he felt my grip, I squeezed hard enough to leave an unmistakable message in his skin. But he huffed in defiance. Fortunately, he moved no further. I needed to figure out what he had been reaching for, but before I could investigate, Larissen rose from his sister and made a play. ¡°What is required to save my sister''s life?¡± Larissen spat, trembling with anger and desperation and snarling at the alchemist. ¡°To begin with," Charson said, unbothered by my grip, unbothered by my knife. "Your side of the deal, upheld." I cast a furtive glance Larissen''s way. He seemed rather uncertain. Too uncertain. I needed to keep our alliance secure. ¡°Very well,¡± I said, wrenching Charson''s arm and beginning to slide the dull knife across his throat. "We''ll need to search your corpse-" Charson''s tone shifted immediately as my knife began moving. "W-wait! You accursed beast!" I paused. Charson beseeched Larissen. "If she slays me, then you''ll never save your sister." "I doubt you''ll save her regardless," I said, still keeping a careful watch of both Larissen and the alchemist. "You''re a liability." I started dragging the knife once more, and even over the smell of the concoctions, of Kissen''s sickness, I could still catch the scent of blood. It may have reminded me that travel rations were unsatisfying. "Wait," Larissen said, licking his lips. "We should hear him out." "Yes, yes you should," Charson said. I could hear a grin forming in the way he spoke. "In fact, I have the antidote right here!" He pivoted and ducked down, my knife sliding across his face and passing over his leather half-mask. His hand finished shooting into his pocket. I shouted, tried to reacquire his arm, regain control, but he moved fast, far faster than I anticipated. His hand re-emerged with a glass vial, which he promptly threw straight down upon the rocks at his feet. He laughed madly as the glass shattered. An acrid fog billowed up and around us, stinging my eyes and burning my throat. Charson''s face contorted in pain as he grabbed his half-mask, tugging the bottom half down in a practiced motion to protect himself from the fumes. His mask apparently had a hinged filter that could slide over his mouth and nose. Handy, that. In seconds, the fog had engulfed both me and Larissen. ¡°So this is your way of admitting that no one can cure Kissen then?¡± I growled, unable to hide my fear and rage. I had been aware that it was a slim chance, that there was no possible escape for Kissen once she had fallen into his clutches. But still, I had held onto hope until now. Even if there was little else I could do for her now, at least I could still find closure and make sure I could live with my own conscience afterwards. But now? Now, I needed to salvage as much as I could, beginning with my own life. ¡°What does this do?" I asked, trying futilely to wave away the yellow smoke that was now engulfing all of us. Nothing was dissolving, at least not yet, so I doubted it was something besides corrosive. The taste of burnt mangoes and old copper made my tongue tingle. ¡°What, and ruin the surprise?¡± Charson asked, his mask partially muffling his voice. It was then that Larissen screamed in turmoil, his cries shaking the crevasse and piercing my eardrums. My eyes darted from Charson to the scene in front of me. Kissen yowled out weakly before gurgling and going silent. In horror my gaze shifted back to Larissen who had buried his claws into her face. Larissen turned towards me, disregarding Charson while he snarled with rage. His wide eyes were filled with hatred as his fangs bared and his tail bristled all the way up his back to his ears which were perked up in alertness. I cursed inwardly, realizing that Larissen was about to attack me due to an unknown alchemical effect which may or may not be permanent. He had gone rabid. Very suboptimal. He was faster than me and far more vicious. As the vapor spread, it grew thick enough to cut off what little light there was. Mind: 75 (+1) It almost seemed to morph in the shadows from yellow to black, transforming into a death shroud, enveloping us, embracing us, welcoming us into madness. The world became pitch black and our senses were robbed. Yet I still heard him. My other senses remained untouched. He hissed and spat and yowled, uttering insane gibberish that made no sense. I turned to where Charson ought to have been. I heard a whistling through the air, approaching. I dove to the side, clipping a sharp rock and spraining my left elbow. Body: 65 (+1) Evasion: 4/9 (+1) The vial shattered nearby, despite my maneuvers. A different scent, this one noxious, different than the first. I staggered backwards towards the far wall of the crevasse, trying to escape the smog. Larissen, hearing the movement, hearing the glass shatter, found my position. He rushed towards me, passing through the choking haze and narrowing gap. Options ran through my mind. I needed to distract him. "Illusion." I said, forming a shadowy clone of myself. But of course, if no-one could see, then an illusion constructed solely of sight was useless. I focused on it, and added the next portion of the spell, "Touch." Illusion I: 3/9 (+1) Touch: 6/9 (+1) I could practically feel the energy pouring out from me at double the rate. The [Clone] struck Larissen, distracting him as I tumbled towards the gorge. A swirling black cloud trailed behind me like a sinister phantom as I fled for my life from the expanding smoke and impending doom. My [Clone] dissipated. I felt the draw upon my power end, even before I exhausted my pool. I wondered if he had killed it? I wondered if that was even possible? Larissen roared after me, his howling echoing off the narrow walls. In my distraction, I stumbled on a rock and crashed to the ground. He leapt forward, gaining ground on me in seconds. No matter how hard I tried, he was faster. With every step, my muscles burned like white-hot fire. I pivoted and scrambled back in desperation as he blocked my path. The yellow smoke did not stretch far enough for cover. It was my only chance at escape and I threw myself into the murky abyss, trying desperately to vanish into its depths. I headed back towards Kissen, where Charson had been before it all began. But there was no time to think about that now, I had to stay ahead of Larissen until the drug wore out or he tired himself out completely. The haze clung to me like a thick fog as I ran past Kissen and along the crevasse where Charson had gone. Once again, my sight failed me. But I could still hear! I heard his clawed steps echoing, approaching, gaining. I could practically see him running on all fours, salivating over his prey, his breath heavy with rage. My Illusions would hardly trouble him, he had already shown he could end my [Clone]. So I chose to continue fleeing, hoping he would lose interest, or lose sight of me. Panic surged through my veins as a plan formed in my mind. "Illusion." I tried again, exploiting my trump card. "Touch." A boulder formed between him and I. It was no taller than my waist, but it was solid; I had much experience with the drab gray material over that past month in the waste; I would have liked to think the Illusion was realistic, although I took no time to inspect it. I focused on making it as heavy as it ought to be. I continued running. He tripped and stumbled and yowled. I kept going, letting the Illusion drop, conserving what energy I could. Illusion I: 4/9 (+1) The fumble ended too quickly; he regained his footing and once again began overtaking me. "Illusion. Touch." I sent another [Clone] to distract him. The distraction lasted seconds, but allowed me to gain yards of distance. "Illusion." I surrounded myself with a shadow and let the [Clone] drop. My energy was depleting fast. I could not keep this going for long. Larissen would have to tire soon! I hoped. I could not imagine him continuing this level of aggression for long. Not unless the alchemics enhanced him, which, it may- In the moment of my distraction, Larissen had pounced, soaring through the air, claws outstretched towards me. I tumbled to the side as he flew past where I had been. I castigated myself, I had to keep focused! But, what could I do? I could attempt to fight him, but I lacked confidence in myself to win, or even survive. For not the first time, I wished I had practiced my Illusions further, I might have had a trick to pull that would resolve this situation. But no, I had been too set upon hiding my abilities as a secret ace. Which I managed to do, but that disused and unpracticed ace was serving me little good now. After he landed, he circled, crouched, and once more, He launched himself at me with a primal roar. Another [Clone]. Another distraction, another course change. More fleeing. His ears tracked me; he ignored the [Clone] and sprang towards me. He chased after me like a rabid wolf, ready to pounce on its prey. We were out of the fog. If I could just last long enough, then maybe the drug would work itself out of his system. "Illusion!" I cried desperately, attempting to form another boulder, but my energy was gone. My efforts were for naught as my reserves ran dry. My last remaining choice, my only hope, was to run and gain the time to refill my spirit pools. I began to doubt my chances for survival. Suddenly he leapt forward and his clawed feet dug deep into my left side, causing excruciating pain. I stumbled sideways and ended up on my rear, scrambling for something--anything--to save myself before it was too late. The gleam of my knife caught my eye, then the vials from earlier seemed like an appealing option, but they would only bring about death for one of us. Would it be him or me or both of us should I grab and deploy a random vial? Neither! I had to find another way out of this mess. My hands felt something hard beneath them just as he lunged forward again: A stone! I flung it straight at his face, distracting him long enough for me to bolt to the side. The drug''s effects must surely be waning by now! The yellow fog was hugging the ground now, with wisps and swirls rising above my chest. It seemed to be dissipating. Leading him back into that would only reset the duration of the drug, but at least I could hide there, if I kept low. I turned to face him. My back to the fog. Did I dare risk it? He was watching me now. His eyes wide and unfocused. Drool hanging from his teeth. Blood dripped from his claws. Was that blood mine or Kissen? No, focus! I heard something soft from behind. It reminded me of leather and stone and perhaps metal. Was it Charson? I had thought he had left. Or was it a scavenger coming for Kissen? Regardless, it was an empty distraction. Unless, unless I could use it? Larissen growled. His eyes, unfocused as they may be, shifted to just over my shoulder. What-? I dare not show my back to him, but was there a different danger? If a scavenger had wandered into the cloud, then would it also go berserk, would it also pursue me? I side stepped, keeping Larissen in view as I tried catching a glimpse of whatever it was moving through the fog. I saw a shadow, a large human-? I felt it before I realized it. Claws were digging deep into my back, searing pain that left me screaming and stumbling forward blindly. Larissen had moved so quickly! I replayed it in my hand as I fell. He had darted in and slashed me on his way by. But he was not riding me down. It was a... a run-by? He came in at great speed, tore through my back and ribs with his claws, and kept running. I was crashing into the stones, the far too sharp stones. the fog was not far way now. I rolled over to face where he had gone, where the possible scavenger was. The shadowed humanoid grew and grew. It was a giant. It was-- She stepped into the light. Sir Kate Guardson. But I had left her at the camp, to cover for me? What was she doing here? Her sword was in hand. Her ice blue eyes were wide with too much white showing. In a moment of clarity, I remembered the berserking gas still looming nearby, which she had come through. I was injured, exhausted, and vulnerable on my back. Kate was maddened, and Larissen was somewhere, lurking. Kate was focused upon me. I did not like my chances. But some of my energy had refilled. "Illusion." I let the familiar chameleon-like blur fall over me. I could not maintain it for long. Kate already knew I was here. But it was all I could muster, and I hoped she would forget me in favor of the cat. Spirit: 49 (+1) Illusion I: 5/9 (+1) Larissen growled from somewhere within the cloud. Kate was over me, her sword drawn and raised, her technique lacking as she treated the sword like a hammer. Not that I could take advantage of it now. I doubted I would survive. I thought of my sister. I thought her name was Trix. She had been adopted. We both had been. Well, adopted being the polite term for stolen. Kate''s sword came down towards my chest. I raised up my arms to shield me, more a force of habit, a flinch, than any technique. The angle of her sword failed to match the angle of her swing. It was likely the only thing that saved me. If ''saved'' could be the correct term. Her blade still passed through my left arm, just above the elbow, catching on the bone, shattering and- and- Hot liquid spilled over my skin as shock spread throughout my body. My now severed arm dropped onto my thigh. The sword pulled away, back up, forgotten. I curled around the wound, the pain distant, like I knew it was there, it should be there, but was absent, and I knew it made no sense, and I knew it was shock, but my arm, my arm! In the distance, I was only vaguely aware of Kate''s bellow, of Larissen''s growls. Of the clashing steel and claw and grunts of struggle. None of that mattered. My arm... my arm... Blood was pouring. It was pointless. It was... Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.5.15.1 A rocking motion. Back and forth, swaying. Warmth and softness pressed against one side. Yet, I felt cold. So very cold. My arm itched¨Cmy left one. It felt strange, unresponsive, then too responsive. Unrestrained. As though a weight had been removed. No¡­ no. As I awoke, slowly, groggily, I remembered. No matter how I denied the memory, it was there. I tried diving back into blissful unconsciousness. This would best be forgotten. No. no¡­ Denial would do no good. It had happened. I needed to take stock, make a plan. Hard facts. They needed considering. I needed to move on. The same as when I awoke in a strange body. Just now, I was awakening in a strange body sans another part. What was one more non-consensual bodily modification? The fact I was awakening at all should be surprising. I had been losing a lot of blood last I remembered. I had been at the mercy of a feral Kate Guardson. Obviously, something had happened to my benefit. I cracked my eyes open. Groggily. Already, I was having second thoughts about it. But I needed to know, to confirm, to understand at who¡¯s mercy I now found myself at. So, with great reluctance, with some trepidation, and with almost no desire, I opened my eyes. I found the source of warmth. It took me a second to put it together. The pressure on my upper back, the backside of my hips, the sag of my rear, the sway. I was looking up at Kate, at the side of her chest, at her neck, then the bottom of her chin. I was getting carried, bridal style. Why was she carrying me? I presumed she was no longer feral. Had she been cured? Or had the effect worn off. Or, was it something else altogether, perhaps collusion between her and Charson? My hed ached. A distraction. I needed to take stock. Other than the fact that Kate currently held me, the way she held me made little difference. Logically, I knew that as true. And yet, I found myself coming back to it, again and again. Her stomach, even through her tabard and gambeson, was firm and lithe. Her chest, not so ample to obstruct my view of her face. Her chin, glorious. Though while it was night out, I could still see enough of her figure. Thankfully, this body had come with effective dark-vision. Strangely, I noticed that I heard two sets of footsteps, and the clinking of gear. Who else was there? Who else was I sharing this moment with? No. I was distracted. I needed to focus. But my head felt light, and my arm felt lighter. I glanced down at my elbow. Something was missing. My arm. I groaned. Why had I bothered? ¡°Yeah¡­ you kinda lost a ton of blood,¡± Kate said, glancing down upon me. ¡°You should rest.¡± I nodded. That was sensible. I would deal with it all later¡­ I was tired. I could just drift¨Cdrift off. Yes, I should rest. But a part of me rallied, demanded those hard facts. I found myself speaking without intending to do so. ¡°What happened?¡± I asked. I pointedly did not glance at her hips, where a blade and several scabbards hung. Instead, I looked once more at the stump of my left arm. The jagged sleeve where the sword had cut, the strange silver sheen where I expected bone and grisly sinew. The silver sheen through me for a loop. ¡°Wha¨C?¡± I began, but trailed off. The second person, walking besides Kate, made themselves known. ¡°Kitten deserves an explanation,¡± Larissen¡¯s voice came from somewhere, behind us. ¡°Silence, beast,¡± Kate said, with mild aggression carried along in her voice. ¡°This is your godsloving fault!¡± He scoffed, ¡°Who cut who?¡± ¡°Not for your lack of trying,¡± she said. ¡°If you coulda, you woulda.¡± If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°What. Happened?¡± I repeated, after clearing my throat a bit, a bit more firmly. ¡°My arm.¡± I clarified. I could see, well not see, hear, that Larissen had survived and was close. And we were headed somewhere, presumably back to Muleater and the others. What I needed to understand was what happened to my arm that made it almost glow in a silver light where it had been severed. ¡°It¡¯s gone,¡± Kate said plainly. ¡°You would have died before I found you, but your Mark sealed the wound.¡± When she found me? I almost scoffed in manic derision. She was there when my arm was cut off! But perhaps she did not remember. And alienating her now would fail to serve any purpose. Though perhaps I could use the guilt, if she felt it, which I believed she did, or would. I scolded myself internally for already forming machinations. I needed details. I needed to understand. The term ¡®sealed¡¯ had also been used in conjunction with the slave collars. That was concerning. I needed to ask. ¡°What does that mean?¡± I asked, then waited nervously in anticipation for the worst news possible. ¡°I¨C¡± Kate looked like she was about to say something, then shook her head slightly before saying something else. ¡°We¡¯d need to get you to an expert to find out exactly. But at the very least, your Mark there won¡¯t grow any further. You¡¯ll be lucky if you keep your past gains.¡± It took a while to sink in, but when it did, I decided that it could be much, much worse. ¡°What happened after I¨C¡± I trailed off, looking down at my stump, at the useless bit of arm attached to the elbow, at the not quite glowing silver surface. ¡°It¡­ it was bad,¡± Kate said as she gazed outwards, breaking eye contact, conveying unconfessed shame. Which, truthfully, she should be feeling. The bitc¨Cmothersworn¨Cwhor¨Cgirl¨Chad cut my arm off! Unaware of my inner turmoil, or perhaps aware and ignoring it, she continued. ¡°What Charson did¡­ I think he released an unlawful alchemic, but we¡¯re out in the wastes so it might not be unlawful. But¡­ still¡­¡± Did she not remember? She and Larissen had bantered, so she must have at least put it together, and that was if she failed to remember cutting my arm off! Was she feeling guilty? If so, good. Now, how could I use this? No. I needed answers. I revised my question. ¡°And Larissen?¡± ¡°The cat?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Larissen jumped in, ¡°the Kaiva. This one. While dazed¨Cthis one had a¨Ca collar¨C¡± he hissed in Kaiva ¡°-placed around his neck.¡± ¡°Speak Imperial or stay silent,¡± Kate said boisterously, but it was like putting on pretenses. She was a young adult speaking up to a larger older male. It seemed ridiculous. I almost laughed. I schooled my reaction before she noticed, though Larissen might have heard a slight hitch to my breath. ¡°You collared him?¡± I asked. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°But¡­ why?¡± ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I?¡± she said. ¡°We had a deal,¡± I said. ¡°No collars.¡± ¡°Cannot trust qavi,¡± Larissen spat in Kaivan, using one of the more derogatory terms for humans. ¡°I said¨C¡± ¡°We had. A. Deal. No collars.¡± It was getting harder to speak, the fatigue settling in, but the fact that she had collared Larissen the moment he was incompetent bode poorly for my own freedoms. ¡°It¡¯s for his own safety. For your safety.¡± How Kate could say that with a straight face, I could not fathom. Unless she truly believed that? Regardless, it mattered not. ¡°No collars,¡± I insisted. That had been the deal. ¡°Look. That was before that one¨C¡± she thumbed towards Larissen ¡°-deserted, entrapped you, attacked you, attacked me. That deal doesn¡¯t exactly apply to him anymore, don¡¯t you think, yeah?¡± ¡°Mitigating circumstances,¡± I said. I wanted to drift back to sleep, but I could not stand it. Even if Larissen were scum (which he was not), and even if I hated him (which I did not), I still would not see him collared and leashed like some sort of pet. Not even Charson deserved that fate. ¡°You attacked me and him too.¡± ¡°Mitigating circumstances,¡± she grumbled in reply. ¡°You mutilated my arm,¡± I finally said, despite my better judgment. ¡°Should we collar you?¡± ¡°What?! No!¡± she scoffed as though the very suggestion was idiotic. ¡°Why would you even suggest that?¡± ¡°We aren¡¯t¡­ aren¡¯t animals¡­¡± I said, losing steam. I was growing increasingly dizzy. My eyelids, heavy. ¡°Folly to teach this to humans,¡± Larissen chided softly. Kate growled and lashed out with the heel of her boot, kicking Larissen hard enough to send him stumbling to the side. He recovered after a few steps, but he walked with a slight limp from where her boot made contact on his hip. ¡°I warned you! If you¡¯re gonna speak, speak Imperial!¡± she then scolded me, me! ¡°And I¡¯d hate to alienate you further, but you can¡¯t compare¨C¡± ¡°Do. Not.¡± I said as firmly as I could, despite the twisting spinning delirium. Focusing on the conversation was growing to be too difficult to bear. ¡°Don¡¯t what?¡± she asked. ¡°You¡¯re smart. Gods, you¡¯re Marked. So you¡¯ve gotta be smarter than at least what¡¯s common¨C¡± she failed to specify what baseline she was using for that comparison, but I had my suspicions it was not humans ¡°-so you must have realized the truth by now.¡± I felt like I had a lack of oxygenation. My arm ached, the arm I no longer had burned in phantom stings and hot needles, and a cold clammy sweat was slicking my skin. Feverish. Possibly shock. I was not in a good place to contest her. If the collar was still there in a few hours, on Larissen, then I could dispute it then. But currently, no. I was too injured, too weak. But, I could not just give up so easily. I could not swallow this built in societal prejudice; especially not if I was ¡®one of the good ones.¡¯ Contempt for this society would never cause change. Focusing my last remnants of willpower, I croaked, ¡°Not. Animals.¡± Before the swaying of Kate¡¯s gait turned and rolled me down into a colorful and unrestful sleep. Ingestion 1.5.15.2 I drifted off in Kate¡¯s arms, saddened at Larissen¡¯s enslavement, grieving for Kissen¡¯s fate, worried for my own future, and reminded of something vague and distant. It was not a state to elicit restful sleep. It was then, of no surprise, that I was plagued by dreams. Or of one, in particular. The dream itself contained several salient and notable traits, that I could hang on to, and that the rest of the scene appeared built around. But the details were blurred, as though viewing through a hallucinogenic fog. But I recalled enough to know that this was no simple nightmare. I had been young. Too young. It verged on the edge of what a child could remember. It was my first clue. The second, I was in a vehicle, I think, a sedan? That was a detail blurred. In the front seats were two adults, a male and a female, and they were gorgeous and happy and yet their faces were a mystery. How could an unseen face be beautiful? I wondered, but knew that thoughts were non-linear at the best of times. And then there was a jarring sound. A screech. A lurch. A bang. Another bang. Smoke. Flames. Coughing. Hands pulling me free, strange hands, not from the couple in the front seat. And then I was carried, similar to how Kate carried me currently, but then, in the dream at least, I was leaving the beautiful couple behind in a fiery wreck. Looking up at my savior¡¯s face left me chilled. The dream faded, as all dreams do. I tried to hold on to what I could, feeling certain that it was a key to a memory. But that memory slipped through my fingers, leaving a residue of despair upon my proverbial hands. Yet still, it was a clue, and more than I had before. Who was the woman that had carried me, and why had that car burned? Who had been in the vehicle, and why did I feel a sense of hopeless longing towards them? The fragments of memory left me with more questions than I had started with, and soon, those questions too faded. When I awoke, It was to the sound of a stern scolding. ¡°What were you thinking?!¡± Muleater said in a tone that bordered on shouting. I blinked my eyes open, or tried to. Gunk had crusted over my eyelids. I reached up with my hands to rub them. Only one hand, my right hand, arrived. My left hand never did. My left arm felt too light. My left arm burned and itched and¨C Oh. I remembered. I calmed myself down. Panicking would fail me. Logical assessments would serve me. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. I finished rubbing the gunk out from my eyes, using my right hand, my only hand. Finally, I blinked my eyes open. Meanwhile, Muleater had continued her reprimands, never actually pausing to let Kate have a word in edgewise. ¡°I had no idea where you went. Think about it. If you got into trouble, which you did, I couldn¡¯t be there to help. Gods take it!¡± She swore, then tried regulating her breathing with limited success. ¡°If you never came back? What would I tell your mother? We¡¯d never know either; we¡¯d never find your body here. You want that? You want your mother having a gods-loving funeral? Even Ken was worried! And don¡¯t get me started about your lover boy.¡± ¡°Uncle Ken would¨C¡± Kate tried to get in, but Muleater spoke over the top. ¡°-just tell me, was it worth it? Were these beastborn worth it?¡± ¡°If you¡¯d just let me explain¨C¡± ¡°-I don¡¯t want an explanation,¡± Muleater snarled. ¡°I want you to understand the gravity of our situation. I know you have trouble giving the attention this is due, but I need you to listen to me very carefully: your mother left you in my charge. We are in the Wastes. Our supplies are limited; there are wyrkwik or worse hounding us. So please, tell me, why did you go chasing off after her? Alone!¡± Muleater pointed at me. Kate had rested me against a stone at some point while I was resting, and she was now gripping her sword hilt with white knuckles. ¡°I was recovering assets.¡± Kate¡¯s voice was tight, and could have been an attempt at dispassionate, but there was enough fury leaking through that she was only partially successful. ¡°And I succeeded! I also returned with intel.¡± There was a brief lull in the conversation. There was pacing. A sigh and a mumble, ¡°intel she says¡­ is that what she calls that?¡± Meanwhile, someone stroked my head, behind the ears, and it felt nice, soothing, relaxing¡­ it carried me away from the throbbing inflamed pain. ¡°...There¡¯s no getting through that skull of yours is there,¡± Muleater said, now sounding somewhat sad. ¡°When we get back home, I think your mother and I might have a chat with your swordmaster.¡± Kate crossed her arms, still unimpressed by the threat. ¡°Are we done then?¡± Muleater sighed, almost deflating. ¡°Yes, I suppose we have to be. Everyone grab your things, we¡¯re moving out.¡± ¡°And the kunbeorn?¡± ¡°You brought them back on your own, so you can figure them out on your own. That includes feeding, walking¨Cattending them¡­ or putting them down. You choose. Maybe a few consequences will help.¡± It was dehumanizing, but then, these people never considered myself or the Kaiva to be human. Muleater was talking about us like we were pets. And perhaps, to them, that was what we were. If I were hale, I would have protested. Strongly. And likely by stealing supplies and absconding into the night. But I was not hale. Kate grumbled, but picked up a leash that had been attached to Larissen¡¯s collar, and gently picked me up in a bridal carry. I kept silent, though I did not appreciate being treated like luggage. However, if the alternative was walking with my injury, I knew which was worse. Ingestion 1.5.15.3 Travel had become an awkward affair. I found myself weak, and torn between feeling too cold, then too hot which caused me to sweat, which was then followed by feeling too cold again, but now damp from the sweat as well. I found it difficult to concentrate, and watching my surroundings did not come easily. Then, there was the fact that Larissen was still collared and leashed. He acted subdued, hardly speaking at all, with a distant gaze. The only person seemingly in good spirits was Gregory, who tried chatting with Kate repeatedly, only to be rebuked. Kate finally told him off, but even then, he still hung around her like a lost puppy. And then there was Kate: subdued, sullen, and despondent. The reprimands from Muleater must have gotten to her. It was easy to forget her youth, for while she looked no older than fifteen, she acted mature. She had entered combat, for mother¡¯s sake. She clearly was younger than I, especially if she let a simple rebuke affect her so. Or perhaps that was hypocritical of me. Hard to say. As we walked, the Caravan Master Manny Stillson continued attempting to salvage profits, starting, apparently, with Larissen. ¡°With the deceased¡¯s property recovered,¡± Manny said, ¡°We might iron out ownership rights sooner rather than later.¡± He spoke with a nervous tension, wringing his hands as he asked Muleater. ¡°This isn¡¯t the time,¡± Muleater responded, focused outwards, along the cliffs surrounding the gorge. ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out later.¡± ¡°Well, we might,¡± the Caravan Master said, ignoring the dismissal. ¡°But-¡± Muleater groaned. ¡°Just spit it out so then you can silence yourself.¡± ¡°When we do arrive, we will doubtlessly have many other pressing concerns. Would it not be better to clarify the contract now, at least verbally?¡± Kate¡¯s attention perked up, and Larissen scoffed, before eyeing me and mouthing ¡®qavi.¡¯ However, Muleater did appear to consider the merchant¡¯s words, at least momentarily. ¡°I¡¯ll be honest,¡± Muleater said, all the while continuing setting the pace, with everyone else following along as we approached the forking crevasse around where Apprentice Charson had been the night before. ¡°I don¡¯t envy you right now,¡± Muleater finished. ¡°Yes, well¨C¡± Stillson coughed. ¡°-the situation is somewhat dire. Though it could be worse. We had insurance, fortunately¡­¡± ¡°Say,¡± Muleater scratched her chin, and acted as though she just thought of something. ¡°If you¡¯ll be claiming insurance, then wouldn¡¯t the merchandise¨C¡± her eyes glossed over Larissen, and then myself, leaving both Kate and I stiffening by a fraction ¡°-would they not be subtracted from that sum?¡± ¡°Well, there is some leeway¨C¡± the Caravan Master started in a hesitant tone. ¡°-I¡¯m fairly certain there is a Crown Law regarding that as well. But I suppose you¡¯re not planning on writing the entire event as a loss then¡­¡± I could almost hear the humor in her voice, though her enjoyment did little to remove the implicit threat that even I felt. I doubt anyone had forgotten that Lieutenant Janet Muleater was a lower knight, which I interpreted as this nation¡¯s equivalent of a sheriff or a deputy. ¡°But of course I would never violate a Crown Law!¡± Manny protested quickly. ¡°Afterall, I am a respectable guild member¡­ I just thought there might be some uncertainties to work out.¡± ¡°Of course, of course. If you want to work those uncertainties out, you¡¯ll need to bring it up with Sir Kate. She¡¯s the one that recovered the property. After all.¡± ¡°Right,¡± the Caravan Master bowed slightly. ¡°I¡¯ll do that then.¡± He did not, in fact, do that. He glanced back at Kate, then at Larissen, before falling back to walk in front of Ken and besides Gregory. We continued walking, ascending the incline in a southerly direction. People were hopeful that we were coming to the end of the Gorge. With the incline, the narrowing of the walls, and the shortening of the walls, it would not be long until we escaped, and then we could plot a wider course to finish our journey. And from there, I would need to figure out how to either integrate into society, or pass through the human gates to pass through to the Jungles of Kaiva to the south. However, we encountered a problem. An obstacle, more like. At the peak of the hill, at the very mouth of the gorge, there was a large and hostile party awaiting us¨Cof mikuya, or the wyrkwik, as the humans termed them. Personally, I felt that animated vegetation, or plant zombies, would be a more apt moniker. But while in Rome¡­ Regardless, there were far more of the mikuya waiting at the top of the hill than the three combat-worthy humans in our party. We had Ken, Janet, and Kate. There were at least a dozen or more mikuya, ranging from infested hundeor, a meohr, and even a few humans. ¡°Ambush!¡± Muleater shouted, drawing her sword. ¡°Everyone, blades out!¡± I thought the term ¡®ambush¡¯ may have been inappropriate, but I refrained from commenting, deciding it was better to avoid the lieutenant¡¯s ire. However, proving my point, the mikuya removed stationary, refusing to advance upon us, refusing to abandon their advantageous position. Something was amiss with all this, but I could not be certain of their motive. The scenario was not adding up. Despite these doubts, the humans pressed forward. While we had been climbing the incline, Kate had been gracious enough to support most of my weight. But upon Muleater¡¯s command, she partially shoved me off to draw her sword. She did spare me an apologetic glance as I collected myself. ¡°Sorry, I need my hands though,¡± she murmured. ¡°Ridiculous!¡± the Caravan Master shouted. ¡°Absolutely preposterous! We travel for days from an ambush, fleeing through the rough, and¨C¡± he stopped when Kate thrust Larissen¡¯s leash into his hands. ¡°If you won¡¯t fight, then hold this.¡± ¡°A feral Beastborn?! This is not what I contracted you for, and you expect me to just¡­¡± he trailed off as Kate strode past him to join Muleater at the front. ¡°Who knows, perhaps it will protect you.¡± ¡°More likely to claw my throat out.¡± ¡°Better it than them,¡± Gregory nodded ahead. ¡°Unless you¡¯d prefer your chances up there?¡± ¡°Master Silverborn,¡± Stillson said, his patience failing. ¡°This is no simple matter. Their sworn duty is to protect us!¡± While the merchant and boy squabbled, the three guards began advancing in an irregular line. It turned into a free-action, as the mikuya were holding their position, radiating a smug patience with only the slightest undertone of anxiety. I had regained my balance, still failing to comprehend the absolute idiocy of Muleater¡¯s tactics. There must be a reason she chose to advance immediately. Was she worried the mikuya were waiting on reinforcements? But even then, the mikuya¡¯s actions made no sense. Why wait to ambush us, in full view? Why had the previous infested meohr blocked our path, only to feign its own demise? Muleater¡¯s poor decision making had nothing on the mikuya¡¯s irrationality. But no, I had to chide myself. While their motives were unknown to me, I could not assume any being was irrational. Even if their thought processes were foreign and strange. I just needed to understand them. The facts ran through my mind quickly, far more quickly than they should have normally, which I attributed to either my ¡®Sealed¡¯ Mark, or the stress of the situation. The mikuya were an invasive species. They had demonstrated tactics and strategy that failed to align with any animalistic behavior I could think of, which fell far beyond their normal attributed aggression. Their behaviors appeared alien to the humans and Kaiva, who had at least heard of them before. The mikuya could infest organic lifeforms, causing mutations and takeover. It all joined together in a jumble that failed to make sense. But there had to be a larger pattern that fit the data. I lacked so much knowledge; I might have been missing a key piece. I could extrapolate, but my conclusions would be risky, possibly dangerous, depending on the assumptions made. But had I been the only one making assumptions? Stolen novel; please report. The humans and Kaiva had made plenty of assumptions regarding the mikuya, from their motives to their behaviors, possibly even their habitats. If their assumptions were in error, then their conclusions, in fact, everything I had learned from them could be in error. Certainly, some of the generalities could hold true, but not in this specific case, which was what mattered. Ken, Kate, and Muleater pushed forward at a hurried walk, their weapons out. They picked their way up the rocky slope, gravel crunching, their breath labored. The mikuya remained still, watching, moving as little as plants while they waited, except for the occasional blink, or wind ruffling spotty fur or the tendrils permeating their flesh. The humans still had ten yards to travel, and they began slowing now, approaching with more caution, with a wariness that must have been second-guessing their suicidal charge. Gregory, Manny, Larissen, and myself remained further down the slope, by seventy yards, but still within view of the upcoming confrontation. Larissen appeared subdued, hardly sparing any attention at all for the humans, instead choosing to look at the fur on the back of his hands, still stained red from the blood of his sister. I was absolutely certain that this was not a fight the humans could win. Kate was unable to beat a single meohr, and now there was a meohr and friends. Unless Janet and Ken were true masters of combat, unless they had some magic I had yet to see, there was almost no possibility that they could win. Which meant I needed to plan for their failure. Which meant I needed to turn this into my opportunity, and I had a few thoughts on how to do so. The mikuya still made no move. But they would soon, I could smell their readiness to pounce. I still tried to understand the creature¡¯s motives. Did they seek to entrap the humans? To keep us within the gorge? Perhaps they were wearing down their supplies, or running them to exhaustion¡­ but if that were so, then that strategy would be foolish, as they could have taken the humans at any point. Perhaps they were trying to herd the humans like cattle? But again, that would be foolish. They could simply restrain the humans and forcibly transport them to whichever destination they had in mind. I doubted they had come all this way for a simple game, though the best motivation that I could use to ascribe their actions was that of play, of entertainment. But still, that did not feel right, but if true could be used to my advantage. Regardless, the humans would lose this direct confrontation. I could use this to earn Larissen¡¯s freedom, to escape. Kate would likely be injured, if not killed. Could I stomach that? A part of me thought she deserved that or worse. But another part? No¡­ I could not allow it! I needed to intervene. Desperate to prevent the pointless combat, I scrambled forward, lurching with each step and almost faceplanting. ¡°Stop!¡± I shouted, while winded, while running. Muleater and Ken ignored me, while Kate might have flinched just slightly at my voice, before following Muleater and turning her focus, her laser like focus, upon the coming fight. This was making no sense. ¡°Please hold!¡± I tried, stumbling once more and this time tripping all the way, pinwheeling my one and a half arms before catching myself on my elbow and stump. Pain shot spasming up my arms. I gasped and rolled, hitting a sharp rock, because of course there were sharp rocks. But the pain, the flaring pain, did not matter. If this continued, there was a good chance of casualties, possibly all of us. And while the mikuya might spare me once more, relying on the mercy of an entity with unknown motivations would be even more foolish than Muleater¡¯s decision to advance. I struggled to climb back to my knees. A boot hit my back and sent me flailing back down to the rocky ground. More pain. Who had kicked me. I turned. It was the Caravan Master. ¡°Wha-¡± I croaked a question. Why had he done so? Was he ignorant that I meant to save us all, him included? How dense could the man be? Manny sneered, keeping an eye on both me and Larissen, with Larissen¡¯s leash in one hand, and a dagger in the other. The dagger still had specs of food on it from his last meal. Manny loomed above me, his girth prodigious. ¡°You think I don¡¯t see what you¡¯re doing?¡± Manny sneered. ¡°It was always suspicious, your unknown links to the infestation, but you stopping our guards on the cusp of victory, when we¡¯re nearly free of these blasted wastes?¡± ¡°They aren¡¯t on the cusp of victory, you delusional fool!¡± I said, my voice still tight and strained, my strength leaving me as I suddenly felt far too cold. ¡°Of course they will,¡± the Caravan Master said. ¡°It¡¯s what they¡¯re paid for.¡± Gregory, of course, had to get in edgewise as well. ¡°Faithless beast. You¡¯ve seen Kate fight. She is a true prodigy. What are a few infested animals against her?¡± ¡°Who¡­¡± I licked my lips, ¡°who¡¯re you trying to, to convince?¡± Larissen remained silent all the while, staring at his hands. Nonresponsive, as he had been for most of the trip. If, no when, the guards were pushed back, then Larissen would need to fight. ¡°Remove, the, collar,¡± I gasped. ¡°And free this beast?¡± Manny scoffed. ¡°No. Now be a good pet and remain silent.¡± These humans were idiots! All of them! It was so frustrating. Perhaps they deserved their fate. But did Kate? Maybe¨Cno! I had to succeed. And besides a backwards glance, Kate continued forward, towards her demise. ¡°They¡¯re not going to¨C¡± ¡°-he said be silent!¡± Gregory interjected, stamping his foot like a petulant child. Were they all idiots? No, I had to assume they were not. The Caravan Master was scared, and choosing to put his faith in the Chargers he spent on security to save him, and he was hopeful that we would soon be free of the gully and on our way to the outskirts of Southbridge. Gregory, he probably was an idiot, a love-struck fool, a person who perhaps excels technically but fails in all other categories. Muleater was choosing to attempt pushing through the mikuya despite the dangers, which I assumed she must have acknowledged. I could guess her motivations. Perhaps we lacked the supplies to turn around. Perhaps she hoped to push through before reinforcements could arrive and further sour our odds. Perhaps she was just tired of the gully. She had not shared her motivations with us. Her motivations would not matter when the humans lay dead, when I was at the mercy of the mikuya. My options were limited, but not completely exhausted. I reached into my jacket and removed several of the vials I had liberated from the Alchemist. None of them were ones I recognized, but I doubted anyone would, except Charson. None of them had labels, only the color of their content. Neither Gregory nor the Caravan Master noticed my movement. And then suddenly, the guards closed the distance, moving almost more quickly than my eyes could follow. I was too late. They were too close. They were clashing, all of them following Muleater¡¯s opening lunge. Mikuya flesh was speared and sliced through. The suckling sound of blades pushing through wet flesh, the grinding when they hit something a little harder. But none of the infested creatures fell. Instead, as though of one mind, despite the fact that they were of varied species and sizes, they stepped forward, engulfing the blades within their own bodies, entrapping the weapons, de-clawing the humans. Ken lost his grip on his sword, still firmly stuck in a fungal hundeor¡¯s chest. The infested creature grinned and coughed and grabbed the hilt with both hands, falling back and away from him. Muleater punched some nature of infested jaguar in the face. Teeth scraped against the steel plates on the knuckles of her gloves. Kate pushed forward, separating from the other two humans, dancing between the mikuya, slicing in a whirlwind. However, despite what should be grievous wounds, from slit throats to impaled hearts, the infested continued to push forward, down into the Gully, pushing Ken and Muleater back, while two creatures prowled around Kate to encircle her, to keep her separated from the others. A gnoll crashed into Muleater¡¯s legs from the side. I thought she would topple, but she remained firm, slamming the hilt of her sword into its face. None of the mikuya had fallen, not unless it was intentional. They always got back up. None of them smelled distressed. The humans, however, did. I lost sight of Kate behind the line of mikuya, but I believed she could survive. It was the rest of us that I worried about. What could I do though? They were on the verge of catastrophe. I could throw the vials, but I could not be certain of their effects, and I could be certain the humans would suffer along with the mikuya, due to their proximity. Manny¡¯s boot was still upon my chest, though his attention was on the battle. That was the first thing I needed to change. I might have been too weak at present to fight my way up, but I had the vials. ¡°Let, me, up.¡± I spat out. The Caravan Master tore his gaze away from the fight and looked down at me. I twisted slightly, unbalancing his footing. He stepped back, frowning, until his eyes landed on the vials in my hand. His eyes widened. ¡°You¨Cthose could win us the fight!¡± he said. ¡°Accurate. But. No¡­ collar, off.¡± Green spots were spinning around me. I would not last much longer, not with his weight upon me. ¡°Just take them from her!¡± Gregory shouted, bending down to rob me of them. I hissed and made to smash the vials. ¡°-wait!¡± Many said, urging caution. ¡°A deal, yes? The vials for your friend¡¯s freedom?¡± ¡°She clearly stole them from Apprentice Alchemist Charson,¡± Gregory grumbled, still bent over and partly reaching me. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t they be ours by right?¡± ¡°Try teaching a beast property laws,¡± Manny retorted. I could barely keep my eyes on him. I was slipping back into unconsciousness. I managed a nod. He held out a hand to Gregory. Gregory paused, before reaching into a pocket and handing a bronze stick with a ruby on the end. The Caravan Master placed it in a square divot on Larissen¡¯s collar and the metal fell off. I held my hand open, and Gregory snatched the vials up. ¡°Run those up, quickly now!¡± The Caravan Master trailed after Gregory, but not running nearly so fast. Gregory made a beeline for Muleater. With the fat man off of me, I could finally breathe. The green spots began to fade. Larissen crouched beside me, to assist me. Now that he was freed, some life seemed to return to his face. Oddly enough, his eyes had some cloudiness to them. And for just a moment, it was as if he mistook me for someone else. His expression softened. ¡°Kissen?¡± he asked. ¡°No,¡± I answered as softly as I could, unsure of how to react exactly. I decided that truth would be the best course though, especially as I felt certain his confusion would be momentary at most. ¡°It¡¯s me, Jackie.¡± It was then that I heard the hiss-boom and felt the ground shake. Ingestion 1.5.16.1 I regretted my feebleness. Truly, I did. Soon after the explosion, from whatever alchemical device the humans had deployed, I succumbed to exhaustion, to the weakness, and though my state may have been justified by the severe wounds I had received earlier, it was still a failure. I succumbed. I passed out. Consciousness slipped away from my grasp. Had I maintained awareness, then I might have further cemented my position within the group. However, despite how I loathed my own weakness, passing out did have benefits, at least in that whatever sapience governed the mikuya might not be offended by my contributions to the humans. I had, afterall, been indisposed. I was in no way responsible for whatever actions the humans had taken. Once again, I awoke to a sway, though a different gait than when Kate held me. Warmth and fur pressed against my cheek. I cracked my eyes open. Larissen was carrying me. Concerningly enough, I did not hear any others walking nearby. I put two and two together quickly. ¡°What¡­ what happened to the others?¡± I asked, a soft murmur. I continued to relax, Larissen¡¯s corded muscles and bristly fur giving comfort against the pain. ¡°This one does not know, but most likely the humans survived. The alchemist was more effective than assumed.¡± ¡°And we left them?¡± I asked. After a pause, he eyed me derisively from up high. ¡°Yes,¡± he scoffed. ¡°Of course these ones left the qavi.¡± ¡°But¡­ why?¡± I asked. ¡°They had freed you¡­¡± ¡°The qavi already broke their word once. Foolish to trust.¡± ¡°-but they increased our chances of survival,¡± I argued. ¡°They had supplies.¡± ¡°Again, foolish. Their rations were nearly depleted.¡± ¡°Safety in numbers?¡± It was taking a lot out of me just holding my head up and meeting his gaze. Now, a hint of amusement entered Larissen¡¯s voice. He was arguing to humor me, I was certain. ¡°At the cost of traveling slow and calling the mikuya to our location,¡± he explained. ¡°But they won¡¯t trust us if we encounter them again!¡± And while the chance might be slim, we had already stumbled upon each other by happenstance once. Doing so another time was not out of the question. I was preparing my logic to refute what I assumed would be his counterargument, when he offered an unwelcome fact. ¡°Humans never trust Kaiva. To think otherwise is possible is foolish¡­ though, cub¡­¡± he licked his sharp teeth and narrowed his feline eyes. ¡°Your love for these enslavers is worrisome.¡± That, and my exhaustion, gave me pause. It was clear that I would not sway him from his opinions. And while he was somewhat amused, his mood and the argument could easily sway into something worse, which considering I was at his mercy currently, was suboptimal. In fact, cementing relations between him and I should be of the highest priority. He continued walking, carrying me, and I collected my thoughts. In the end, I supposed it all failed to matter in the slightest. Without supplies, I was back to where I started¨Cworse, arguably, as I now lacked an arm. He seemed content to silence, and for a while I permitted it. But without else to do, except rest, I decided to begin building up our relationship. And so I started. ¡°Why did you bring me?¡± I asked. ¡°You could have escaped, traveled more quickly. But you risk yourself to carry me. Why?¡± This question was asked carefully. As he answered it, he would look for reasons to justify his action, which would both provide me leverage, and also firm of those very same reasons within his own mind. Afterall, most people, when asked ¡®why¡¯ they were doing something, would not immediately stop. It was not as though he would drop me then and there. Well, he could, but it would not fit with my model of him. He licked his lips and his far too sharp teeth. His tongue appeared raspy, though thicker and longer than a cat¡¯s tongue, at least in proportion to the rest of his face. He chuffed, but the emotion behind the exhalation was unclear. ¡°This one saved the kit to honor my sister,¡± he said. We continued for some time, backtracking the way we had come with the humans. The gorge was one way, for the most part, though an ambitious climber might scale the walls. And the rough walls were hardly uniform, with the crevasse the Alchemist found as an example. But because of the limited paths available, pursuers could easily follow. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. ¡°What will we do?¡± I asked, emphasizing the ¡®we,¡¯ the cohesiveness. ¡°This one is unsure.¡± He paused, but looked like he had another thought on the cusp of his lips. I had nothing better to do, but I did not want to rush him. And his gait was beginning to rock me back under. I worried for my health, if I still could not remain awake. ¡°But¡­ but suggestions would be welcome.¡± I wondered why he paused. Did he consider a lack of planning to be a weakness? I had not thought that the Kaiva showed a cultural disposition to not owning up to one¡¯s shortcomings, but I lacked enough data to know for sure. It might also have been that he had to think about it, and realized that he came up short. Either way, I had a few ideas to leverage this. ¡°Do we still want to go south?¡± I asked, attempting to take stock of Larissen¡¯s own frame of mind. ¡°There is no point,¡± he said, unknowingly mirroring my own thoughts earlier. Cast adrift then, purposeless, apathetic. Understandably, depression. I knew how to deal with my own moods, but if he also felt this way, then this would add difficulties. But, it also added an opportunity, if I was willing to grab it. Because while depressive moves largely decreased functions, it also gave me a lever, especially as I suspected that I knew the originating cause: grief. And that could be exploited. ¡°Then, perhaps we could make a detour?¡± I offered. ¡°This one listens,¡± he said, an ear twitching to prove his words. ¡°Before we head south, maybe we should aim for revenge?¡± ¡°Against the humans?¡± he asked. ¡°Against a particular human.¡± ¡°The Alchemist,¡± he spoke the word with a hiss, some of that same anger from before, returning once again. While revenge as a whole would be unproductive, we needed to get off the beaten path, and the only way I knew to do that would be following the crevasse. The best way to get Larissen to carry me into the crevasse would be vengeance. And besides, I wanted to re-arm with more vials. And perhaps, interrogate the man. ¡°The alchemist could not have gotten too far,¡± I asserted, though I had no way of knowing for sure. But the important part was that Larissen lacked a means of verification as well. ¡°The human would have at least a days¡¯ head start,¡± Larissen said, thinking out loud more than anything. ¡°And the path taken is uncertain.¡± ¡°We could track him,¡± I said, before blinking the tiredness from my eyes, or trying to. ¡°His scent may be covered by an alchemic. It was how the human snuck upon these ones in the first place. How, how the human captured my sister¡­¡± he finished softly. That made sense, and I had meant to ask about that before. If the alchemicals could cover up scents, then that would be useful to remember. But even then, his choice of passages would be limited. ¡°We did not come across him in the gorge,¡± I said. ¡°And he would not have snuck past the Jungleborn.¡± ¡°This is not so certain, but is likely all the same.¡± ¡°Which means he probably went further into that crevasse. It might even be a dead end.¡± ¡°It might also open up into many pathways.¡± ¡°But we wouldn¡¯t know unless we tried,¡± I insisted. Truthfully, if the crevasse did split, then it would put us in an even better position, at least so far as avoiding any pursuing parties. After a pause, he relented with a nod. ¡°This is true,¡± he said. ¡°These ones will pursue our prey. But until these ones find him, Kitten should rest. Your strength cannot recover otherwise.¡± his eyes lingered on my stump, and on the muddy footprint marring my top. I resisted the call of sleep for another fifteen minutes. And calling it sleep would not be accurate. A deep set weariness radiated from my bones. Keeping my eyelids open was a chore. Even breathing felt strained, like not enough oxygen was in the air. My muscles still felt weak and rubbery, and when I focused on my arm, to read my Mark, I found my hand trembling. At last, Larissen softly chided me, and I listened to him, trusting him to get us to the crevasse, and I shut my eyes. I regained awareness periodically, but it was like a fog, drifting in and out, blurry and out of focus. I heard the wind, I heard paw steps, and Larissen¡¯s chest. I could not help but wonder at all the decisions leading up to now. I could not deny that I felt regret. So many other decisions could have been made. Kissen might still be alive for one. Or Nick, if I had been firmer in my demands. Honestly, I was lucky Larissen held no blame for me over Kissen¡¯s death. It was my decision to negotiate with the humans after all; we could have ambushed them instead, when the humans first stumbled upon us in the cave. Not that an ambush would have worked, especially not since they had the Alchemist at the time. But even after that, had I abandoned the humans at the same time the Kaiva did, then I likely would have helped them escape the alchemist¡¯s trap¡­ or, I would have been captured along with them. It was hard to say, impossible to say, at least logically. But grief was seldom logical. I was lucky that he was refraining from blaming me. Not everyone would, in the same position. The next time I drifted to awareness, I had a thought: what if he separated me from the humans to take advantage of me, or to behave maliciously. My eyes slammed open, my fur standing on end. It was still daylight, and Larissen glanced down. ¡°We are nearly there,¡± he said. I nodded, wanting to believe him, and lacking any other really good choice. It left me uncomfortable. I hated, hated, being at someone else¡¯s mercy. And Larissen might not be that stable. But I could only continue with my ploy, no other options existed, at least not then. ¡°To the crevasse?¡± I asked, looking around and failing to recognize much of the landscape. Though the gorge looked far different between the light of day going one direction, and the gloom going the other. ¡°Yes¨C¡± he said, with a slight hitch of his breath while angling to the side. ¡°-can you not smell it?¡± There was a caustic smell, and of copper and something worse. ¡°I can.¡± ¡°It is best if this one heads further in alone,¡± he said. I resisted the idea at first, but I had little choice in the matter, except to find a suitable place, in a corner, almost an alcove, that was full of windswept dust and lichen. ¡°How long will you need?¡± I asked, having a faint idea of what he was planning. His sister¡¯s corpse was still there, at least as far as we knew. Though it was possible that someone moved it since. ¡°This one knows not. Wait here,¡± he commanded. That would be a dangerous precedent to allow him to set. ¡°Don¡¯t take too long,¡± I said, partially resisting, and hopefully preventing the precedent from hardening like concrete. ¡°This one will take as long as required,¡± he said. And with that, he left me and entered the crevasse on his own. I took another nap. Ingestion 1.5.16.2 Larissen was taking longer to return than I assumed. At first I had thought that he would relocate his sister¡¯s corpse, perhaps say a few words in her memory, and then that he would return. And while I was unsure of the exact amount of time that passed, I felt it was longer than was reasonable, especially with our potential pursuers, and especially with the alchemist escaping. And then that brought another sobering concern: perhaps the alchemist had ambushed Larissen for a second time? Perhaps the alchemist had been busy harvesting ingredients when Larissen happened upon him? It was unlikely, but it was still possible. And it was plausible enough to use as an excuse for interrupting Larissen, even in his grief. So, I roused myself and ventured towards the entrance to the crevasse. It was good I had an excuse, I realized, as I entered the crevasse, near where the Alchemist had set up his temporary workshop. The acrid chemicals were still in the air, though faded and less sour than the night previous. There, I found Larissen on his knees bent over the corpse of his sister. He had pulled her head onto his lap, and with his head bowed, he was weeping. When he glanced upward, towards me, his eyes were wide and wet, with a scintillating quality. I approached him slowly, each step measured and calm. When he made no move or indication of a negative reaction to my presence, I closed the last few yards between us, and I knelt down beside him and Kissen. We remained there in silence for a while. He did not speak, and I knew no words to help with his pain, that would avoid risking alienation. Because I lacked knowledge of Kaivan funeral customs, if they buried or cremated their dead. I did not know if they treated death as a celebration, or if saying trite phrases would be polite. It was awkward. A part of me wanted to pat him on the back and say ¡®chin-up.¡¯ The rest of me argued that doing so would be preposterous and burn what good-will I had. Thus, silence. In the quiet, I had no other option but to observe her. She seemed so small, her fur so flat, her face¨CI tried to look anywhere but her face, considering how Larissen had killed her, but those mangled sockets with blackened red jelly glistening¨C Never again would she call me ¡®Kitten.¡¯ While initially I had disliked the moniker, now I found myself missing it. She had been a source of comfort, the first I had come across in a long while. She had deserved better. She deserved more. To honor her in my own way, I strove to commit her to memory. But as I looked down at her, I almost saw another image overlaid atop her, a hallucination perhaps, or a trick of the shadows, perhaps even a memory; and the image only lasted there for a second, less than that even. But in that time, I had thought I had seen a red-headed girl, with freckles, and flat green eyes. And then it was just Kissen, Kissen and her empty scabbed sockets. I flinched. ¡°My sister¡­¡± Larissen began. I shifted my gaze to him, grateful for a distraction. He licked his lips. However he approached his deceased sister would give insight into the customs of the Kaiva, and would give me pointers on how best to respond. ¡°My sister,¡± he said, ¡°must be honored.¡± I nodded slowly, still regarding him for more clues. He licked his lips again, almost worried, but psyching himself up. This bodes poorly, I thought. ¡°Yes,¡± I answered, because that was the only answer that I could give. Larissen trailed a claw across Kissen¡¯s fur, along her skin, leaving a line, a possible scratch. Larissen shuddered. ¡°Then this must be done. It is our way.¡± He traced his nail once more over her chest, this time from top to bottom, until he reached her diaphragm. ¡°Uhk kik el. El kik uhk- Her blood, our blood. Uhk kik el¡­¡± He chanted, over and over, until it was a murmur, growing in speed, almost too fast for me to separate out the individual words. Then, reaching some unknown climax, he let out a terrific yowl. With that announcing his turmoil, he then plunged his hand into her stomach, his claws spearing her flesh, parting it, and the rest of his hand following. I wanted to flinch again, to pull back, to admonish him for the gruesome behavior. But I knew that would only sour relations. So, with great effort, I kept myself neutral. Afterall, who was I to judge these Kaivan customs¡­ even though they seemed bizarre. Inside the wound he created, his hand carved upwards, under her ribs. Her chest bulged. Her neck bulged. Her head rolled to the side. She was quite dead, but everything was connected. He was up to his elbow now, reaching around, before seizing something and pulling his arm back red and black from viscera and worst. But before his hand returned to the surface, something elastic caught, and he growled and redoubled efforts. A sickening stretching creak, then a snap of possible broken bones; his arm came free of Kissen¡¯s stomach with a slurp. He held his fist up, a mound of flesh clutched tight between his fingers, lines of dripping red flesh hung loose. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. I focused on the lines at first, and gradually realized what they were. As he held it up above his head, above my head, with us still on our knees, he resumed his chant, though with an additional line now included. ¡°Uhk kik el. El kik uhk. Her blood, our blood. Uhk kik el¡­ uhp uksi el, el uksi uhk. Her heart, our heart. Utsik benil, el utsik uhk. Her honor, our honor. Uhp picksen ke. Her spirit, ours...¡± While he chanted, I found my attention drifting somewhat. I startled just slightly when I felt a cool dampness near my lips. Refocusing, I found Larissen holding Kissen¡¯s heart before my lips. This surprised me and confused me greatly, before leaving me horrified. Though I kept my face as neutral as possible. He was holding her heart less than an inch before my muzzle. I could only assume what he intended, but I must have been wrong. I must have been wrong. My eyes lingered on Kissen¡¯s heart before me. It had been mutilated in the extraction, and the veins hanging from it almost hid its identity. But no, there was no way to deny it. This was Kissen¡¯s heart. And it was before my mouth. I could only hope otherwise, but no, I knew, knew what he wanted me to do¡­ I just¡­ I had to make sure. After a long enough pause, I glanced at him. He nodded to me. ¡°Eat,¡± he said. ¡°Just a bite.¡± Still, I struggled to control myself, my mouth refused to open. No, I refused to open it. How could this honor her? It was just so incredible, I struggled to believe it. Enough time passed that he must have felt the need to elaborate. ¡°Our ways might seem strange, but they are our ways.¡± I regained some control of my lips, of my jaw, of my tongue. But I did not take a bite, no, not yet. I did not know if I even could force myself to do so. This was a piece of Kissen he wanted me to eat! ¡°Would Kissen have wanted this?¡± I asked, tremulous, and hoping the answer was otherwise. ¡°Yes,¡± Larissen confirmed. ¡°So was done for our parents and their kin. So will be done for us.¡± ¡°This was done for your brother as well?¡± He grimaced, but had yet to pull the flesh back. ¡°No. The circumstances of his death made it impossible. His heart could not be recovered. This makes it all the more important to salvage my sister¡¯s legacy, to help remember my brother¡¯s. For his flesh was her flesh, at least some.¡± It should have occurred to me that this was an honor reserved for family. But at the time, I struggled to overcome my own reticence. The black and red flesh hung before my nose. It reminded me of the hundeors¡¯, but slightly more fragrant in not an unwholesome manner. This had come from Kissen¡¯s corpse, I reminded myself, with disgust for my own body, and its own reactions. When my stomach gurgled, I felt ashamed. It had been so long since I had eaten meat. ¡°Yes,¡± he encouraged. ¡°Eat. Just a bite. These ways must feel strange, but this is tradition. This is right. Open.¡± He gestured again towards my muzzle, towards my clenched teeth. He pushed the heart against my lips, letting me feel its rubbery and slimy and wet and cold and¨C And, almost against my will, I obeyed. I¡­ I opened my mouth. His arm moved. Slowly. Marginally. Fractionally. But closer. Cold slimy flesh pushed through my lips. A pressure scraped against my teeth. Coppery iron tang. A sharp inhale. Larissen¡¯s other hand reaches over to my chin, and pushes my mouth closed. My teeth scrape off the edge of it. Jelly sloughs off and lands on my tongue. Delicious. Without thought, I swallowed. ¡°uhp uksi el, el uksi uhk,¡± Larissen said. He brought the flesh away from me, and I took a jagged breath, thankful that it was over, done, and behind me. Then, he brought the heart up to his lips and paused, steeling himself with a deep breath, before opening his own mouth, some saliva hanging off his canines, before he bit off a small end of Kissen¡¯s heart. He swallowed. ¡°Uhp uksi el, el uksi uhk.¡± Then he brought it back to my face. Once more, my field of vision was completely absorbed by the heart. I glanced at him. He nodded, smiling, with blood staining the side of his mouth. I hesitantly opened my mouth, he pushed the flesh against my lips, and I bit down, a nibble, just a slight bit more. I swallowed. ¡°Uhp uksi el, el uksi uhk,¡± he chanted. Then gave me a look. He brought the heart back to him and took another bite. ¡°Uhp uksi el, el uksi uhk,¡± he chanted still, arching an eyebrow at me. The heart came back towards me, I opened my mouth and leaned forward slightly. I took a bit larger of a bite this time. ¡°Her heart, my heart,¡± I chanted along with him, ¡°uhp uksi el, el uksi uhk.¡± He smiled, and then he brought the ritualized meal back to his lips. This process repeated, until no more flesh remained in his hand, until no more veins, no more arteries, hung dangling. Then we knelt there in silence, with blood staining our muzzles. Feelings of acceptance, contentment, flowed through me. More than just eating a meal, for the flesh was not much by volume. But something else, something more, something almost¡­ spiritual. We both remained there, floating in this semi-lucent state. It was like that, that the humans found us. With Muleater supporting an injured Ken, and Kate guarding the rear while also supporting a limping Manny Stillson. The guards stopped, with Gregory bumping into Kate, then looking over Kate¡¯s shoulders to see the reason for the delay. While the other humans looked on in a mix of disgust and bewilderment, it was Gregory that broke the silence. ¡°Gross.¡± Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.5.17.1 Their timing was unfortunate. Larissen hissed and bounded upward, quickly to a low crouch and ready to attack. Kate pushed Manny aside and strode forward, barely restrained by Muleater and Ken, who watched warily. When Kate saw Larissen free and crouched, ready to spring, she bared her steel. Muleater had yet to draw, and Ken was lacking any weapons altogether, except for his eating knife. They were running short on weapons then. ¡°Why are humans here?¡± Larissen asked in the Imperial tongue, though with a thick Kaivan accent. Gregory opened his mouth to speak, likely to deride us further, and further sow discord between our two groups. Lieutenant Muleater raised her voice first and beat Gregory to the mark. ¡°Escaping the infested,¡± Muleater answered Larissen¡¯s question. ¡°The question could be asked to you. Why are you here?¡± Larissen spat, still remaining cautious but loosening slightly. Likely, he realized that combat now would be to our detriment. I hoped he realized that anyway. He answered, presumably to aid in de-escalating. ¡°These ones are honoring our sister,¡± Larissen said. I was left wondering at that, at those exact words. He had said, ¡®Our sister.¡¯ He used to refer to Kissen as, ¡®My sister.¡¯ A stark change. Had the shared customs meant so much to the Kaiva? Perhaps. It raised certain questions regarding cannibalism in their culture, how widespread it might be, and the societal ramifications. But I could not allow myself to be distracted by idle thoughts, not when an immediate problem was at hand. While I appreciated the newfound bond shared between Larissen and I, and while I did want to honor Kissen¡¯s memory, I would think it ill advised to alienate myself from the humans with those very same customs, namely the cannibalism. Truly, they had arrived at an unfortunate time. ¡°These are the customs of the Kaiva,¡± I added, shifting focus to an attribute of the society as a whole. ¡°Surely the Crown has customs that seem bizarre to the Kaiva.¡± I meant to then correlate the fact that both of our groups had customs, and that this tied us in common. Surely they were not so uneducated so as to not understand such a simple precept? Gregory snorted when I mentioned the Crown, showing that I had apparently misused the term. Kate was now frowning, and Ken scowled. Manny Stillson held a calculating glint to his eyes as he hobbled over to a rock to sit. Apparently his leg had been injured in the time since I had seen him last. ¡°Middens is nothing like you animals,¡± Gregory sneered, emphasizing the term of his apparent kingdom. He pointed at me. ¡°And you are not even Kaivan.¡± Muleater held out an arm between Gregory and Larissen, despite the fact that neither had moved from their spot. The aggression Larissen radiated must have been felt by all. His fur had bristled, and his claws, on his hands and his feet, were scratching against the stone beneath his feet. Larissen¡¯s hiss turned into a spit. It took him several seconds to regain enough composure to speak. ¡°It is always the way with humans, these false pretensions, these failures to understand. My sister chose Kitten as a near-daughter; blood and spirit are honored. My near-niece is Kaiva. Such folly to claim otherwise.¡± ¡°Regardless, this doesn¡¯t change our circumstances. Will you let us pass?¡± Muleater asked. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Before Larissen could protest out of pride and doom us to a disadvantaged conflict, I spoke, ¡°Naturally. Of course. Why would we not?¡± Did she think we would charge a toll for passing? Not that it would be a terrible idea, except we were hardly in a position to enforce such a policy. Muleater nodded. Gregory looked as though he wanted to protest, but a firm glare from the lieutenant caused his mouth to snap shut. As Kate moved to collect the Caravan Master, I could not help but notice the frown upon Manny¡¯s face. Manny likely saw it too then. The missed opportunity. He could be an almost ally then, at least until he betrayed us for profit. The prospect of dealing with such a greedy snake failed to daunt me. I knew their ilk well, even if I might not remember how. I decided to venture just a slight bit more. I asked, ¡°But why do you need to pass?¡± Apparently, the humans took this question as an act of aggression. Or perhaps untoward negotiation. They were used to low-lifes in Southbridge, from what I understood. Likely, such a phrase would proceed some sort of alleyway brawl. Ken brought his dagger up, and Muleater drew her sword by a fraction, so that the stained metal could be seen. ¡°You go back on your word again?¡± Muleater asked angrily. ¡°So soon?¡± ¡°No,¡± I said, wincing as she implied I had betrayed them in the first place. That would need to be addressed eventually. ¡°But¨C¡± and here I almost slipped up and voiced the accusatory word ¡®why¡¯ ¡°-what brought us to this juncture? Weren¡¯t you driving the mikuya back, last I saw? Did you not use the vials?¡± ¡°Ugh,¡± Kate groaned, ¡°Fat lot of good they did.¡± She had already resheathed her sword as she stepped forward, seemingly forgetting the Caravan Master until he cleared his throat. ¡°The alchemicals were effective,¡± Manny offered. ¡°However, there were more wyrkwik than we anticipated.¡± ¡°It makes no sense!¡± Ken snarled, lashing out and punching the stone wall. ¡°How¡¯re there so many! This isn¡¯t the south. How¡¯d they cross the chasm?! Which dirty fallen-gods-loving piece of rubbage let them¨C¡± ¡°Peace,¡± Muleater said softly. ¡°What matters is that we were driven back with injuries. What matters is that we were pursued, though at a distance.¡± ¡°They¡¯re taunting us,¡± Kate growled, gripping her hilt more tightly and frowning. ¡°Mikuya are many things,¡± Larissen said, standing up a bit further as he spoke, ¡°but this does not sound like those many things. These seem¡­ different.¡± ¡°Agreed,¡± the Caravan Master said. ¡°But they likely will pursue us even here and we must be going¡­¡± he was back to that greedy regard, and I could almost feel his eyes land on my pockets. The very same pockets that held the remaining pilfered vials from Charson. I still had some left. I could use that. I smiled a fraction. ¡°We may be traveling the same way,¡± I said. ¡°But I worry if our objectives might not be the same.¡± ¡°Why? You¡¯re working with the mi¨Cwyrkwik¨Ctoo?¡± Ken asked. A strange question. I had to wonder what sort of paranoia led him to that conclusion. Perhaps because Larissen and I had fled while they had fought? ¡°No,¡± I said seriously, before attempting to affect a smile. ¡°At least not that I know of. But once we are done honoring our fallen, we plan to travel into the ravines and broken territory in pursuit of justice.¡± ¡°Against?¡± ¡°They mean Alchemist Charson, I believe,¡± Manny Stillson said. ¡°I think our interests might not be so unaligned as you say. It was the alchemicals that turned the previous battle, afterall.¡± ¡°We hunt the alchemist for vengeance, not, not vials!¡± Larissen scolded, his fingers spreading and his claws seeming to extend if just slightly. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious,¡± Gregory asked the other humans incredulously. ¡°We aren¡¯t going to take their side against Alchemist Charson. It was they who caused him to leave in the first place!¡± ¡°Abandon us, you mean,¡± the Caravan Master corrected. ¡°But so did they.¡± ¡°How else will we find him though?¡± the Caravan Master asked. ¡°The beastborn can trace his path. This is likely our only path to survival.¡± ¡°But to consent to them hunting one of our own?¡± Ken interjected. ¡°I mean, it makes sense,¡± Kate said. ¡°You¡¯re just wanting to save your little¨C¡± Gregory was speaking unpleasantly. ¡°Enough,¡± Muleater said. ¡°Enough. I heard your points. If we want to survive, we just might need to find the Alchemist, especially if he is this way. Just a day previous, we had been working together¨C¡± Muleater focused on me now. I had risen up to stand by Larissen. ¡°-Is this still true now?¡± Larissen could not contain himself. ¡°So long as our hunt is not¡­ stopped,¡± he said, struggling to find the appropriate word and finally settling on a suboptimal choice. ¡°Very well,¡± Muleater said. ¡°Finish with your dead. We must depart soon to stay ahead of the Wyrkwik. Already I smell ¡®em on the wind.¡± True enough, the sweet and rotting scent was on the wind. The mikuya would not hold long in their pursuit. Not for the first time, I felt some small comfort that their hostilities seemed focused on those around me, and not necessarily me. But that was a problem for later. For now, I needed to continue cementing my relationship with Larissen. We had a funerary custom to finish. At the thought, my stomach grumbled slightly. Ingestion 1.5.17.2 The humans loomed while Larissen and I completed the funerary customs. Were I the same girl from before, I would have been horrified. But I was not. I had been forcibly altered, and then further molded by circumstance. But I could empathize with how the humans likely felt, at least judging by their expressions, ranging from revulsion (Gregory), to something oddly close to envy (Kate). Regardless, I did my best to ignore them, focusing on following Larissen¡¯s lead. However, he himself was perturbed by the audience. He radiated an awkwardness and hesitancy that stalled out the ceremony. I, also, could understand this: many suffered performance anxiety. But with the mikuya approaching on the wind, and with Charson¡¯s trail fading, I made a decision to hurry the process along: by removing the source of anxiety. I waved slightly to the lieutenant. ¡°Give us a moment,¡± I requested. Gregory and Ken scoffed, the Caravan Master showed nothing, and Kate frowned. But before the others could interject, Muleater answered. ¡°Don¡¯t make us wait,¡± she said, before leading the humans further along into the crevasse, until they were out of sight, though they remained within earshot. Larissen turned his gaze back down to his departed sister and sighed. ¡°Such a waste,¡± he said. I was unsure what he meant. A skeptical portion wondered if he was referencing the lack of meat preservation, but another, much more reasonable portion, wondered if he meant her death in general. Playing it safe, I queried, ¡°We¡¯ll get justice though.¡± ¡°No,¡± he shook his head and tsked. ¡°Justice is a thing of humans.¡± ¡°You mean you don¡¯t want it?¡± I asked, curious. I could tell there was something more from his tone. ¡°No,¡± he scoffed. ¡°These ones will seize vengeance. Soon this will be ours.¡± I nodded in agreement, seeing no profit in disagreeing over banalities. But time was fleeting, the mikuya approaching, and the humans waiting without patience. ¡°What else remains to honor Kissen?¡± I asked, watching Larissen¡¯s face intently. His teeth clicked shut. His eyes narrowed. His ears laid flat. Finally, he huffed and shook his head. ¡°This is not the way of our people, but our people are long distant. This one hopes our negligence will be excused.¡± ¡°What would normally have been done for Kissen?¡± I asked in the Kaivan tongue, though the modes of speech did not come as naturally as they should. He hesitated. So there was something more to these rites. Which made sense. Most cultures had more developed farewells than a few simple chants. Typically, it involved an entire sub sector of industry, and likely religion as well. But we were rushed for time, we lacked supplies, and he knew that. He knew these limitations. Knowing this, and weighing the risk, I took a gamble. ¡°No amount of time is too much to honor her memory,¡± I said, emphasizing how much I thought that we should devote time to honoring Kissen. ¡°This is what Kissen deserves. This is worth it.¡± And it truly was a gamble. Because Larissen just might agree, which would put us both in a worse situation. But I calculated that by over emphasizing the obvious opposite, that he would be forced to moderate himself in the opposing direction. Although, as the words fell from my mouth, I realized that I took it too far, and that the plot might backfire. But there was no way to climb out of it now. I was committed. ¡°My sister is worthy,¡± he said, humming thoughtfully. ¡°No matter what those fools press¡­¡± Unfortunate. That is not an angle I could recover from without significantly weakening my position with him. And we really did not have the time to dawdle much further. But I would not be the one to budge first. To do so would put me in an even worse position than before. ¡°What must be done?¡± I asked in Kaivan, trying to avoid wincing, keeping my face as neutral as possible. I hoped he would take the hint. Not only were we pressed for time, but we lacked supplies, for whatever other rites might be required. I prayed I would not have to call my own bluff. He paused as he licked his teeth, cleaning them of stray strands of heart-meat. Finally, he began in a start stop fashion. ¡°It¡­ there would be more ceremony. Her body would be embalmed and¡­ and it does not matter. Home is not here. The scent of our hunters grows stronger, and that of our prey grows weaker. We must go.¡± Of course, no sign of relief passed my features. ¡°Are you certain?¡± I asked. Now that he had committed us to departing now, I could milk this just a little bit further. His breath hitched. He glanced down at his dead sister once more, before he nodded. ¡°Yes. These ones must depart.¡± He turned to leave, though he waited for me to pass. While I was still feeling weak, I was glad he did not immediately need to pick me up to carry. It showed he thought I still retained independence, despite the missing left arm, despite the wounds. I could not afford to appear overly weak, despite the fact that I was. I followed after him, gritting my teeth with each jarring step. He may have kept a slower pace than normal. Though very soon, we rejoined the humans and pressed further into the passage, where the walls were narrow, and cramped enough that we could not walk more than three abreast, and the sky was not visible above due to the slanted overhangs of the walls. They did not lead the way. Oh, Kate tried to lead, as she must have been feeling rash and impotent from the earlier fight and was itching to either redeem herself or burn off that energy. However, Muleater coughed and shook her head when Kate started to move, after we came into view. ¡°The kun are the ones best able to find the shy alchemist,¡± Manny Stillson, the Caravan Master, said. ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± Muleater said. ¡°They can track the scent¡­¡± she might have said more to sell the point, and I almost heard her claim we were acting as minesweepers, to clear any traps the alchemist may have left. But she absolutely did not say those words. At least I thought. I may have been developing a fever. ¡°But there is only one way to go,¡± Kate answered without a shred of hesitation. ¡°For the sake of the Crown,¡± Ken growled. ¡°We don¡¯t want them at our back. They already deserted once.¡± ¡°Twice,¡± Gregory corrected. ¡°Once,¡± I ventured to correct him. Otherwise it would mark us as accepting the accusation. ¡°Larissen deserted once. I never did.¡± Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Gregory scoffed, ¡°And when we fought the wyrkwik? I suppose you stuck around and helped?¡± ¡°Besides the vials I gifted?¡± I asked, getting into the swing of the rhetoric now. All the while, I had squeezed past the humans, following Larissen. ¡°You surely mean traded,¡± Manny said, ignoring the fact that it was him who had shoved me to the ground and stomped upon my chest with his unhealthy girth. ¡°Can¡¯t even remember earlier today,¡± Gregory sneered. ¡°Are we certain they are competent?¡± ¡°Refresh my memory then,¡± I said, a half smile playing across my lips. I was just passing Kate, and one of her hands trailed across my fur, sending tingles down my hips. I ignored the contact and kept going. ¡°What were the vials traded for?¡± I asked. ¡°If they were indeed traded.¡± Gregory faltered, though Manny filled in. ¡°For the freedom of the male beastborn,¡± the Caravan Master said. ¡°Exactly. For his freedom. It was not desertion,¡± I said. Besides, Larissen and I were hardly military, and if civilians were to flee a battle, it would not typically be called desertion. But I had to make sure these humans thought of us as reliable, despite our history. ¡°And you?¡± Ken asked me. ¡°Why did you flee with your tail tucked between your legs. I thought you were all in.¡± Kate gave a sharp look towards him, which she then turned towards me. I almost shied away, but I had justification. A good one, I felt. ¡°I was unconscious,¡± I said. ¡°Excuses,¡± Ken grunted. We continued onwards, with Larissen and I leading, using our natural abilities to ensure we remained on the trail. Though due to my weakness, crouching low was difficult. As such, most of the tracking fell to Larissen. But even if he was responsible for tracking, I could not help but catch scents. In the crevasse, the air had grown somewhat stagnant. We were too deep for the winds of the surface to reach us, and there were far too many twists and turns for the air to flow easily. Due to this, the ever present scent of the mikuya faded, though that was hardly a relief. That only meant we could no longer follow their progress. The stagnant air did did make it easier to track Charson, though. The burnt acerbic chemicals that had wafted from him as he had passed down this very same passageway the day previous. However, Larissen¡¯s services might have been superfluous, as Kate was correct. There was only one way to go currently. She was walking just behind me, and I felt her batting at my tail occasionally. At least I assumed it was her. I hoped it was. The alternative was that it was Gregory, and that would have left me feeling violated. Gregory had worked his way up to walk beside Kate and while he lagged a step behind her, he could in theory reach for it. I glanced behind once, just as something touched my tail. But the sudden motion somehow hurt my arm, despite the fact that turning my neck should have had nothing to do with the cut below the elbow. I hissed from the pain. ¡°You need to be careful,¡± Kate lectured me. ¡°Injuries like that take their toll.¡± ¡°Since when were you a veterinarian?¡± Gregory asked. Somewhere further back, Ken grunted out a chuckle. ¡°Shut it,¡± Kate growled out, elbowing Gregory and sending him careening into the wall. ¡°Hey!¡± he protested, but Kate kept walking, and he had to hurry a few steps to catch back up to her. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean anything by it.¡± ¡°No,¡± she bit out. ¡°You did. Not appreciated.¡± I shook my head. There were layers to this interaction, at least on Kate¡¯s side. Gregory was just acting the jealous and spurned adolescent. But Kate? She was dealing with guilt, for, for¡­ I shook my head again, a little more sharply. My left arm burned, my ribs ached, my forehead pounded. ¡°Quiet,¡± Muleater called out. ¡°Ears sharp. Or did you forget where we were?¡± Kate scoffed and muttered, ¡°not that noise would make a difference.¡± It was true, they likely did know where we were already, although there was no reason to confirm it for them, if they were close enough. And as for Charson, he likely had yet to discover we were following. In that case, silence could be critical. If the conversation had gone on, I might have stepped in. Worst case would be Larissen¡¯s intervention, as he would certainly lack tact. But other than Kate¡¯s murmur and glare towards Gregory, the conversation did end. The trudge continued, through the dark passageways, with the only light coming from weakly glowing artificed devices hanging from the humans¡¯ belts. Lanterns, they called them. After a while of trudging, I began to weaken further. My equilibrium worsened. The ground seemed to sway, and my fever had come back. A while after that, I stumbled and tripped. Then I was spinning my right arm, trying to grab anything to catch me before I hit the ground and jolted my left side on stone and¨C Warm arms wrapped around my stomach and chest slowly catching me and stopping my momentum, before picking me up and wrapping me in a bridal carry. It was easy to forget just how preternaturally quick Kate was. As she carried me, Larissen glanced behind at us and grimaced, before turning his attention back forward. Gregory had an acerbic comment. But I could care less. Kate glanced down at me, a concerned and saddened smile. Some time later, we came to a split in the passageway. Larissen examined each one. The one to the left veered off at an acute angle, angling back in the direction we had come. The other path was a straight continuation of the one we had been following. ¡°Well? We let you tag along,¡± Gregory said. ¡°Which way?¡± ¡°Patience, Silverborn,¡± Manny Stillson said. ¡°Profits are lost when we rush. Better to spend minutes now than hours later.¡± Kate coughed, almost a chuckle, though I was unsure why. She glanced down at where she was holding me and winced. ¡°Sorry,¡± she mouthed. ¡°This is why I never had kids,¡± Ken grunted. Muleater rolled her eyes but must have agreed, if slightly. Larissen pointed along the main path and set out again. I noticed that the burnt chemical smell was a little bit fainter, but still present. But that was not the only scent that was changing. The mikuya scent had been picking back up again as well. I wondered if I had any options besides a fever and frailty; I supposed I could practice my Illusions, but at the moment only Larissen knew of them, and I refused to give up a useful advantage against the humans; especially Gregory. The only one who was decent was Kate, and she was the one that had cut¨C We continued walking. Well, everyone else continued walking, and I continued to be carried, reveling in the warmth, softness, and sense of safety that Kate offered. Which I knew, intellectually, stood orthogonal to the fact she had been the one to amputate¨C I also recognized, intellectually, that in my current feverish state, that I perhaps was not thinking as clearly as I should be. And so I nuzzled into the top of Kate¡¯s chest. And she rested her chin against the top of my head, pushing my ears aside in a not entirely pleasant manner. Of course, the moment had to be ruined by a complaint from Gregory, about his sore feet, to no one in particular. ¡°Should have invested in better boots for the travel,¡± The Manny interjected lightly. ¡°I introduced you to my acquaintance, the master cobbler; she truly offers grand work. Every caravaneer knows the importance of comfortable boots.¡± ¡°Again about the cobbler,¡± Ken grumbled. ¡°I swear if you had a tryst with the woman we would have heard about her less.¡± ¡°Ah, hem,¡± the Caravan Master cleared his throat. ¡°That is¨Cwhat I mean to say, is that this is purely a platonic venture. Not that I would find fault in her beauty of course. But that it is not the reason I would recommend¨C¡± ¡°We get it,¡± Kate said, with little humor. A sentiment that both Ken and Muleater appeared to repeat. Gregory complained about a blister forming on his heel, and then I felt his eyes land upon me, where I rested in Kate¡¯s arms. ¡°I wish someone would carry me,¡± he grumbled. Kate was on the verge of lashing out, but I beat her to it. ¡°No you don¡¯t,¡± I said. ¡°What. You think you¡¯re the only one feeling unwell, cat?¡± Gregory said, his face almost a weary sneer. I wanted to correct him. Because I was fairly certain I was not in fact a cat humanoid. I was fairly certain that Nick Delaney had been correct, that I was a fox humanoid, and not a cat. But that fact hardly mattered, and I was unsure why it lingered in my mind. My clouded mind jumped from one fact to another, and I could not restrain myself from speaking further. ¡°Well?¡± Gregory pushed, reminding me of my point. ¡°You¡¯re not willing to pay the price of this ride,¡± I said softly, feeling the fire radiate up my shoulder. Were I thinking more clearly, I would have been hesitant to use this in conversation so lightly. Kate likely felt a great amount of guilt for what she did. Referencing the fact with irreverence would lessen any future payoff I might receive from the fact. Or perhaps the lingering guilt would make that payout all the sweeter. I was unsure. ¡°To have Sir Kate carry me?¡± Gregory scoffed. ¡°I think I would consider it. Besides, with what Chargers did you pay? Or was it when you¨C¡± He was about to put his foot in it and I was interested in seeing just what he said, and how it would sour his relations with his own people. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Kate stopped him before he could say anything too juicy. ¡°Cut. It. Out.¡± Kate bit out each word. Gregory clamped his jaws shut, and in the gloom, I could almost imagine his face reddening in shame. The conversation might have ended there. I could not have that. ¡°What price, you ask?¡± I asked, my voice just slightly cracking. Gregory glanced surly towards me. I waved my stump at him. ¡°Be my guest to pay it.¡± Before he retorted, Kate reprimanded me. ¡°Did you want to walk?¡± she asked. I could not tell how serious she was, but no, I did not. I shook my head and swallowed. ¡°Then be good.¡± I nodded. I turned my head so that I would not see Gregory smirking. Ingestion 1.5.17.3 Featherlight: 4/9 (+1) Within two hours, we arrived at another fork. This time, the main branch curved one way, and an even narrower passage veered the other. As we had been traveling, I had begun to have a theory. The crevasse could have been a stream bed, once upon a time, before the Wastes had dried up. Then that, coupled with the geological upheaval that had shattered the land, had resulted in these passageways we had been navigating. Per that theory, the smaller branch might have been a tributary feeding into a larger stream. It likely was a dead end. Which made it all the more interesting when Larissen pointed towards the cramped passage. ¡°This way,¡± he said. He was pointing towards the narrow offshoot that assumedly went nowhere. Likely, this was why he refrained from immediately leading the way in. Well, that and the cramped nature of the passageway. It would have been a tight fit. While the passage was wide enough for a person to walk, that width was bent. A person would either need to crawl, as a result, or mold their body to the bend as they went. ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± Kate asked. ¡°His scent goes in.¡± Larissen shrugged. ¡°How far? This one does not know.¡± Muleater pushed past the Caravan Master and Gregory, until she stood behind Kate and peered over her shoulder. ¡°Could he even fit?¡± she wondered. Gregory snorted. ¡°Only if he transmuted himself.¡± Nobody else laughed at his joke, if even it was. When his humor fell on deaf ears, he glared at me as though it were my fault. Ignoring him, Kate mused aloud. ¡°He might not be that far in,¡± Kate offered. ¡°Or¡­ it could be a trap,¡± Ken muttered. We paused, eyeing the opening dubiously. Getting trapped in the narrow passage with a hostile on the other end would be catastrophic. Horrific, even. ¡°I wonder,¡± Manny said hesitantly. ¡°Did¡­ did he¨CCharson¨Cdid he carry his supplies with him when last encountered him?¡± I thought back to it. He did have his chest-like satchel, along with a backpack. I thought I saw where this was going. ¡°He¨C¡± I answered, with my voice only slightly trembling from my weakness. ¡°-yes, he did.¡± Though, even if he did not, I would not have changed my answer. ¡°Then where are they?¡± Muleater asked, seemingly picking up on Manny¡¯s train of thought. ¡°He couldn¡¯t have fit anything through there.¡± ¡°This is where his scent leads,¡± Larissen repeated himself, an edge of anger slipping into his voice. ¡°And I don¡¯t doubt it,¡± Muleater said. ¡°I¡¯m merely addressing the practicalities.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t forget, Charson is a tricky bastard,¡± Ken said, frowning at the crevasse. ¡°But if we¡¯re to do this, we need to do it quick.¡± ¡°Right,¡± Muleater said. ¡°Entering will be a fool''s errand though. We¡¯ve no idea if it even goes anywhere. As Ken said, this is likely a trap.¡± It was silent for a moment, broken only by Gregory when he shuffled his feet. Larissen glared at the humans. The situation was not tenable in the long term. If the party fractured, then there would eventually be violence. Either when Larissen and I tried to take whatever rations the humans had left, or when the predators of the wastes picked up on our trail and took advantage of our weakness¡­ or when the humans betrayed us. I doubted that Kate would do so, but I could not guarantee that the other humans would stay true to their word. What Larissen and I needed was leverage. Leverage that I might still have, for I still had the two vials from the alchemist, after all. A plan formed, but I would need to speak up, and my throat felt oh so parched. My lips cracked. My tongue glued to the roof of my mouth. ¡°We¨C¡± I cleared my throat again, the others looked at me. Larissen¡¯s hot eyes, and Kate¡¯s bored ice. ¡°-we could scout ahead for the alchemist¡¯s baggage.¡± ¡°That¡¯s dumb,¡± Gregory said. ¡°If he went in there, why would his baggage be out here? It¡¯s not like he¡¯d leave it.¡± ¡°No, but he might have stowed it before scurrying into that hole to hide,¡± Ken said. ¡°Especially if he thought he could ambush us.¡± ¡°Are we sure he couldn¡¯t fit his bags through there?¡± Kate asked. I had also wondered that. If Charson was so creative, I thought he could have managed it, by either making trips, or squeezing a bag in front and behind. But there was another issue with that plan. I just had to wait for Larissen to point it out. And after a few moments of arguing, he did. ¡°Kitten,¡± Larissen said, with a hint of embarrassed reproach in his voice. ¡°If the human doubled back, then his scent would travel both directions. It only goes one.¡± Kate narrowed her eyes; her breath calmed and I could feel her sword hand twitch beneath me. Interesting. Was she reacting this way because of Larissen¡¯s tone? And why had Larissen sounded reproachful? I had theories, and most of them revolved around my failures as a beastborn, at least in Larissen¡¯s eyes. ¡°His trail stops here?¡± Muleater asked. Larissen nodded, ¡°Is what this one said.¡± ¡°Then¡­ then he¡¯s in there¡­¡± Muleater thought aloud. ¡°It could widen out further in,¡± the Caravan Master offered somewhat hopefully. It would have to, to fit his girth. ¡°There¡¯s too much unknown,¡± Muleater said with frustration. ¡°It could be a dead end, it could be an ambush; what we know is the wyrkwik are coming, and the surest way forward is the path we¡¯ve been taking. We can¡¯t follow him in.¡± ¡°Not all of us, at least,¡± I said. ¡°But who would we send?¡± Muleater asked, considering. ¡°I¡¯m the smallest,¡± I said. ¡°You can¡¯t, not wounded like you are!¡± Kate protested immediately. ¡°You want to leave us? If you got trapped in there, or worse¡­ no, it¡¯s just a bad idea.¡± She sounded hurt at the end, and as though she wished to add more but refrained. ¡°Cowards,¡± Larissen said with disgust. ¡°This one would go, but does not trust Kitten will not be harmed by staying behind.¡± ¡°That¡¯s rich,¡± Kate scoffed, turning her hurt into anger, which she easily redirected. ¡°You would probably just bring her along to eat, you¨C¡± I coughed to quiet her. That attitude was unhelpful. ¡°No harm will come to her if she sticks with me,¡± Kate changed tact. ¡°I guarantee it.¡± Larissen eyed me. He radiated concern. I nodded, smiling, my tail flicked. ¡°Are they trusted?¡± he asked in Kaivan. In Imperial, I answered, ¡°I trust her.¡± It was a lie, of course. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. He gave a firm nod, then angled towards the cramped offshoot. He glanced another look back my way. And now, came time for the leverage. ¡°Wait!¡± I called him back. He turned fully to me and Kate. ¡°What now¡­¡± Ken groaned. ¡°Take these,¡± I said, retrieving the last two vials from my pocket and holding them out to him. Larissen¡¯s eyes widened, his ears perked up. ¡°Just in case.¡± ¡°What are¡­¡± Manny trailed off. ¡°You¡¯ve been holding out?¡± Muleater asked, offended. ¡°No,¡± I answered slowly. ¡°You never asked if I had more,¡± I explained. Not that I would have told her if she had. I had no guarantees that they would have resisted the urge to rob me in my weakness. ¡°To keep him safe,¡± I added to further ameliorate any guilt she thought I might have. Her eyes softened. ¡°Thank you,¡± Larissen said, taking the vials and ducking into the passage. Muleater shook her head as she watched him squeeze into the narrow passage. Then she spoke over the muted conversation between Gregory and the Caravan Master. ¡°Kate, guard the rear. Ken, watch the passage. I¡¯ll take the front. The rest of you check your feet.¡± ¡°Ma¡¯am,¡± Kate said, not completely serious, and turned towards the direction we had come from. Since I was still in her arms, I went with her. She eyed a small ledge on the wall, a few yards away, and she brought us over there, before settling against the wall to wait. She looked down at me. Apparently, unbothered by my weight. ¡°Will you be putting me down soon, I wonder?¡± I asked, hopefully playfully. I was in no condition to walk far, but I could not come across as wanting to be carried, at least not too much so. She scoffed, but nodded, and set me down gently beside her, so that my back was leaning against the wall, and my feet on the ground. My tail got caught in an awkward position, between the stone and my backside. She realized immediately it was getting pinched, and she traced her hand down my side until reaching my tail, and she gently pulled it aside, and angled it partially towards her, so that I was partly leaning against her, and partly against the wall. She put an arm around me. In a way, we had a private moment. While the others were just yards away, in the dark passageway, with only the light glow of the lanterns at their belts, they were dim blobs of light, and their hushed voices would be barely audible, were I a human. My ears were sharp though, and they twitched as I overheard Gregory complaining about bestiality and perversions to a sympathetic Caravan Master. Of course, I suspected that sympathy was false. The only empathy the Caravan Master felt was towards cold hard cash, or in this world, Chargers. But to Kate, this must have seemed a private moment, which explained the boldness she felt in overcoming the barrier she felt between her and her affections. I was unsure how to proceed, and set upon the safest course: passivity. ¡°I think the others are upset with you for holding out on those vials,¡± Kate said. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean anything untoward about it,¡± I said, almost apologizing but not quite. ¡°It just didn¡¯t come up. I¡¯m really truly sorry,¡± I lied once more. ¡°Forgive me?¡± I added in a weaker voice. She sighed, and I heard her shake her head, her short hair dragging through the air. ¡°I¡¯m not upset with you, you¡¯ve nothing to apologize for. It¡¯s just this situation.¡± She groaned. ¡°But they¡¯re gonna ask, and I gotta know, why did you hold out on us? We could have used those to break through the infested earlier. We could be almost to Southbridge by now.¡± ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± I repeated, but in a weaker voice, increasing the fragility of my tone, not that acting so was difficult at the moment, considering my health. ¡°Please forgive me?¡± She sighed, ¡°Like I said, there¡¯s nothing to forgive,¡± she said, and then in a huskier voice, leaning in closer to the back of my head, with her height putting her mouth near my ear. ¡°But I could think of ways for you to make it up to me. If you insist that is.¡± I resisted the impulse to shudder. Though an autonomous shiver did run down my neck, my spine, my tail. This could not end well. It just could not, would not. But at the same time, the affection was not wholly unwelcome. Kate was attractive. A strong calloused woman, or girl really. Competent, and blithe to most emotional leverage, if her lack of empathy was any indicator. Though she did feel shame, and she did feel desire. It was not a healthy mix, especially when she desired that which shamed her; it could easily lead to problems. For me. I needed to pick my next words carefully. ¡°But Sir Kate,¡± I gasped. ¡°What would your friends say?¡± I asked, perhaps too coyly. ¡°Gods take them,¡± Kate scoffed. ¡°We might not survive. Take pleasure in the moment. And I want to receive my pleasure, from you.¡± Oh. That was not the reaction I expected. This was not good. I had overplayed, hoping she would compensate the other direction¡­ not this. Mothersworn it! One of her arms was over my shoulder, holding me against her, and her other hand began sliding from my knee up my thigh. The shiver I felt expanded, my body betrayed me. But my mind did not. Another tact, then, to attempt extricating myself without burning bridges. ¡°This lowly one desires it as well,¡± I said, mimicking the inflection and accents of the Kaiva, if only slightly, just to emphasize my point. ¡°But¡­ is it not taboo? I could not stand for my mighty savior to be lessened in the eyes of the humans.¡± I might have laid it on a bit thick, but my mind was distracted, between the illness, and the encroaching, reciprocated, and unwholesome desires. I had to continually remind myself that this union could only end in tears. Her hand paused on my upper thigh, her grip there firm. ¡°You don¡¯t want to.¡± ¡°No! I do,¡± I said. ¡°I really do.¡± I did not. But I did. I could not say honestly one way or another, but at this time, doing anything further than talking would be a mistake. ¡°Then why?¡± she asked. Was she seeing through my manipulations, or was she dense? I could not believe she was foolish. I decided that she must be speaking from a place of spurned desire, or perhaps a memory of rejection. Another complication. I needed to change references. Something that would snap her out of it. This game was growing dangerous. I swiveled at my waist, until I was facing her, and I leaned my muzzle in and upwards, so that I was facing the lobe of her ear. ¡°I¡¯m scared,¡± I said. And for once, I spoke truthfully. For I was scared. Not only of the mikuya, of the humans, and of the Kaiva, but also at the idea of romance. My body¨Cit was not mine, not really. The pain I could endure. But the mannerisms? How could I even kiss with a muzzle instead of true lips? Even with my mouth towards her ear, that meant my damp nostrils were abutting her face. I was hideous. Nothing was right. Nothing! It was¨C She turned her head and placed her lips against mine. I snapped back, in shock, or I tried to. It was all reflex, of course. Fortunately, her arm held me in place and kept me from fleeing far. Her head leaned after me, her lips against mine. Her tongue, tracing the very inside of my lips, making a line from canine to canine. Breathing was difficult. My nostrils were at the front of my face, pressed against her upper lip. I grew light headed. Spots danced in my vision. I twisted slightly, and broke away enough that I could breathe in a deep gasp. ¡°Heh, sorry,¡± she said unapologetically. ¡°That was fun.¡± I nodded, still in a daze. ¡°Once we break for camp, I was thinking you and I could take the same watch shift.¡± I continued nodding. ¡°Then when we¡¯re back in Southbridge¡­ well, we¡¯ll figure it out then. I¡¯ll convince mom to buy something, maybe a remit? Or maybe it would be just easier to fake a collar. Or a real one? That could be fun¡­¡± she grinned wickedly. That was when I stopped nodding. While that could be fun, I would not trade my freedom. I could not. Slavery, an unforgivable offense. The reminder sent a burst of rage through me. I pulled away from her, overcoming her grip. ¡°I will not be owned,¡± I said, weakly, softly, almost imperceptibly, but I still said it. ¡°Not like that,¡± Kate said slyly. ¡°But it would be easier that way¨C¡± ¡°No. I know what you¡¯re thinking. But how could I trust it? How¨C¡± I was going to continue protesting, but a scent grew when the air shifted. Hints of saccharine rot. I strained my ears. Kate moved to open her mouth, but I put a hand, my only hand, over it. She protested, but I hissed. There. I thought I heard it. A shuffle. From the way we had come. Kate, finally realizing that something was wrong, opened her mouth to ask. She really did not need to ask. It was obvious. ¡°Mikuya,¡± I said. Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.5.18 To her credit, Kate only let her mouth hang open for a second, before jumping off the ledge and unsheathing a bastard sword. In the process, she forcibly dislodged me from the wall and nearly sent me stumbling towards the ground. Though she did catch me before I landed. She appeared sheepish, and she should have too. My left side was already throbbing just from the acceleration and manhandling. I glowered at her and she quickly turned her attention back towards the way that we came from, towards the gorge, towards where the mikuya were coming. Of course, she failed to see them. They were not within sight range, not in the narrow and cramped passageway¨Cwithin ten yards, all we could see was shadow and stone. She let her sword hang in a lazy one handed grip while she used her other hand to run through her hair. A part of me was tempted to ridicule her for her actions. But that was not how friends are made, nor kept. And I still needed Kate¡¯s aid. Besides¡­ even if she was a bit too aggressive, did she really deserve derision? Yes. I squashed those infantile thoughts¨Cthey would only hinder. My observations unbeknownst to her, she groaned. ¡°Of course they aren¡¯t there. You smelled them then?¡± I nodded. ¡°How far out?¡± And that was a difficult question to answer. It was only due to the wind that I caught a sudden whiff of them, and while it was strong, exact distances were difficult to answer. What I could say though, was that the mikuya had entered the crevasse network, as the wind would have brushed by them before delivering the scent towards me. I shrugged, ¡°Can¡¯t say exactly. They¡¯re at least to where Kissen was.¡± ¡°Who?¡± she asked quickly, before shaking her head. ¡°Right. Doesn¡¯t matter. How long till they reach us?¡± I shrugged again. I had no way of measuring their speed. Honestly, she should have been happy with the meager warning I was able to provide. ¡°Fine. We can deal with this. But I need you to try and figure it out,¡± she said in a stern tone, before softening the statement with a flicker of a smile. She headed back towards Muleater and the others to report. Meanwhile, I was left peering into the gloom, towards the encroaching mikuya. I counted off seconds and tried to gauge how much closer the sounds had come, but with how the sound bounced around the passages, and with how irregular those sounds were, the effort turned out to be pointless. All I knew was that they were approaching, but perhaps not overly quickly. I was unsure how far away they even were. With my inability to track their progress, my thoughts turned towards other matters. Pressing matters. Larissen had yet to return. Already, I was preparing myself by modeling the humans¡¯ likely course of action. Undoubtedly, they would press to retreat. With Larissen still absent, they would abandon him. Afterall, they held little value for the worth of a beast¡¯s life. If I went with the humans, it would be without Larissen. This would annihilate any empathy I had gained from the Kaiva. Additionally, without him, I would be helpless against the humans. They could simply collar me as I slept. I decided that a more proactive course was required in order to prevent an unfortunate turn of events. I approached where they discussed. Muleater glanced towards me, wondering why I came, as if I would have no say in our course of action. I played it off. ¡°I have seen no evidence that they moved since I last caught their scent,¡± I said. It was an awkward way to deceive them, if not for Muleater¡¯s unknown ability to discern truth, any lie I wished to tell took far more effort. In this case, I wanted to pretend I had relevant news that would excuse me broaching their discussion. Not that I should have needed an excuse. Muleater gave me a measured look before asking, ¡°How far off?¡± Again, that question. ¡°At least to where we laid Kissen to rest.¡± At least Muleater knew who Kissen was and recognized the name, albeit after a few seconds¡¯ pause. ¡°Too close,¡± Ken said, spitting on the ground. ¡°Need to move.¡± ¡°Larissen has yet to return,¡± I reminded him, and the rest of the humans. ¡°We¡­ we can¡¯t stay here,¡± Kate said, in a soft voice, towards me, as though she were breaking delicate news. I shot her a glare and saw her wince, before swallowing back whatever else she was going to say. ¡°The beast was too slow. Looks like he¡¯s getting left behind,¡± Gregory said, sounding just a bit too gleeful. ¡°Unless you want to crawl back there to try finding him?¡± His eyes lingered on my missing arm, right on the stump. ¡°Nobody is going in there after him,¡± Kate growled. ¡°Children,¡± Ken muttered under his breath, almost a curse-word in its own right. ¡°Regardless, we¡¯re moving. Pack up!¡± Muleater ordered, referring to the bags people had taken off, and the boots that had been taken off feet. The way those feet stank made me almost glad I could no longer wear shoes. But I could not allow myself to become distracted. ¡°We can¡¯t leave him behind,¡± I said, nervous to directly oppose the humans. But abandoning Larissen, and trusting the humans to honor a deal¡­ it was simply not a tenable option. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Gregory said with a smirk. ¡°I¡¯m sure we can find another animal for you to rut for.¡± What was his problem?! A flash of irresponsible anger swept through me. My lips moved before I could reign anything in. ¡°What an utter fool,¡± I spat and immediately regretted it. But the words had been said. ¡°Coming from an animal?¡± Gregory scoffed in an angry tone. He had squared up with me, and his hand was reaching into the inside of his coat. I reminded myself that he was an Artificer, the same kind of person that had made the guns, that had made the collars and keys, and that undoubtedly held several foul surprises on his person. ¡°I doubt you even know what those words mean,¡± he sneered. ¡°Careful,¡± Kate said. She positioned herself to the side but still between both Gregory and myself, ready to intervene, perhaps. I hoped at least. But her presence granted me some courage to further push. Every second spent arguing here was another second for Larissen to return. And afterall that, I still had plenty of anger to vent, and allowing him to continue molesting my character would set an unfortunate precedent. But mostly, despite the logic, it was the anger and weakened state that pushed me. However, anger was no excuse to escalate. I needed to regain myself and recompose. But as I went to de-escalate, I looked upon his gloating visage and my temper flared once more. ¡°What else should I call a little boy who chooses to fight his allies in the face of adversity?¡± I growled. Ken snorted a laugh, interjecting. ¡°Point. Not that you¡¯re much better, cat.¡± Before Gregory could lash out, Muleater snapped everyone out of the argument. ¡°Enough. Just. Enough. The wyrkwik are coming and we need to move. So stop and finish putting your boots on!¡± she finished, snarling and pointing her blade at Gregory, where he still held one boot in his hand where he had been loosening the laces. ¡°Or don¡¯t and walk barefoot.¡± Gregory¡¯s mouth opened, ¡°Oh.¡± He leaned over and started doing just that, lacing his boots up. Why he did so, he continued grumbling, ¡°doesn¡¯t change my point.¡± ¡°What?¡± Muleater snapped at him. ¡°...nothing,¡± he grumbled. ¡°That¡¯s better.¡± Unfortunately, I had yet to think of a way to alter the party¡¯s course to abandon Larissen. It would be the expected course of action. No subtle manipulations would alter such a bulk condition in such a short period of time. I would need to spend my social currency and act bluntly. But we had yet to leave, and I still had a chance to sway their course of action, however slim that chance was. ¡°We can¡¯t abandon him!¡± I said, cringing at the desperation that tinted my words. ¡°I know it¡¯s tough,¡± Kate told me. At the same time that Muleater said, ¡°-We are unable to hold this position. You yourself brought this warning to us. We would be fools to not act.¡± ¡°Perhaps if you had any more of those vials?¡± Manny Stillson asked. Suddenly, I regretted my choices to give all of that leverage to Larissen. A single vial would have worked just the same, while I could have kept the remaining. I did not anticipate the need to renegotiate before his return. And I really should have. I shook my head, ¡°But Larissen will return with them, and possibly more if he found the alchemist.¡± ¡°It would be good Chargers spent after bad, I am afraid,¡± Manny said in a falsely apologetic tone. Another wave of anger passed through me. Was Larissen equitable to goods? Was I? Was that all the Caravan Master saw in us? Of course it was. I had already known that. And I had willingly thrown my lot in with them. I was not a human. I had to keep reminding myself of that. These were not my people, because of the societal barriers that humans had erected, that I doubted would ever be torn down. This was irrational. I was acting irrationally. But at the same time, it was impossible to act otherwise. I backed away from them, from Gregory, from Kate. They all seemed to loom threatening over my short stature. ¡°No,¡± I said, hesitatingly, fearfully, but courageously all the same. ¡°Wha¨C?¡± Kate started to ask, but I turned and fled towards the narrow cramped offshooting passage that Larissen had entered. They shouted. I could not be bothered to care. ¡°Leave her,¡± one of them said. ¡°No!¡± Kate shouted again, chasing after me, into the narrow passage. I banged my stump of an arm on a wall as I crawled and angled myself through the tight passage, barely fitting. ¡°Just wait!¡± Kate demanded, squeezing into the passage after me. She latched onto my ankle. I kicked. ¡°Let go!¡± I shouted. ¡°I¡¯ll carry you! It¡¯ll be fine! You and I¨C¡± ¡°-No! I¡¯m not a¨Cjust no! Let go!¡± I kicked at her hand once more. The other humans were shouting behind us, out in the larger crevasse, not that it mattered. They would not follow. I was surprised that Kate had, to be honest. Not that it mattered. I kicked again, flailing. The grip loosened. I slipped out and pushed further into the narrow passage. Kate scrambled after me, slower, due to her bulk. The humans tried stopping her, but I hardly noticed. I had to find Larissen. He would have the vials, he would have the leverage, he would see me as more than a trade goods. ¡°Stop!¡± Kate shouted after me, still pursuing, just a bit slower. ¡°You¡¯ll die! Your wounds will open. We can figure it out!¡± This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°No!¡± I shouted back. Trackless Tracks: 7/9 (+1) I squeezed and scrambled through a turn in the passage, and came out into a wider atrium, where the wall had split, and a seemingly natural cavern descended, away from the crevasses and potential of convoluted paths to the sky. Kate came out after. If not for her pursuit, I would have marveled. It had been a while since I had seen the sky. And here, in this atrium, at the bottom of a massive stone pit, I could see it far overhead. Even the overcast sky could not ruin the moment. And then there was the cavern, descending from the atrium on the opposite side of the pit, from where I had emerged. As I saw no one else in the pit, Larissen must have traveled down there. I was already putting distance between her and me, between the crack in the wall that we had emerged from, taking a few hesitant steps into the cavern. I felt some reluctance in venturing underground, but it was the only path that Larissen could have taken, and I did smell his trail heading that way, along with the caustic burnt hair smell that I had begun associating with the alchemist. ¡°Just wait!¡± Kate shouted, easily catching up with her broad steps. Her arms came around, to either side, I dove forward, but she had come in too fast. Her arms wrapped around my chest and lifted me up, my feet kicking futile in the air. ¡°No!¡± I said, thinking frantically. ¡°You aren¡¯t getting me back out through that hole. Not without Larissen.¡± It was true, the passage we came through was narrow enough that I doubted she could force me through, not when I was kicking and fighting for all I was worth. She scoffed, ¡°Could always knock you out.¡± ¡°You wouldn¡¯t.¡± ¡°If you keep acting like a dumb animal, I might.¡± That gave me pause. And then anger revived, bubbling up and overflowing through my mouth like toxic sludge. ¡°Is that what I am to you?¡± I snarled. ¡°Then why don¡¯t you let me leave. Let. Me. Go.¡± ¡°I¨C¡± Kate paused. I had stopped struggling. It was both undignified, hurt my position, and just hurt, in general. I was hanging limply in her arms, very cognizant of the firm muscles, even beneath the thick cloth jacket. ¡°-I didn¡¯t mean that. It¡¯s just¨C¡± ¡°Just what.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to lose you.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not an object to be lost!¡± I said, ignoring other ramifications, still suffering from the geyser of anger that these insufferable humans left me with. ¡°You collared me. You amputated me. You treat me like subhuman filth!¡± ¡°It¡¯s¨C¡± Kate was growing flustered, her breath hot on my ears, tickling them. ¡°-that¡¯s¨Cyou know it¡¯s not what I meant!¡± she sounded offended. ¡°You didn¡¯t mean to collar me?¡± I asked mockingly. ¡°You didn¡¯t mean to lock me in a cage?¡± ¡°Yeah, but that was before I knew you.¡± ¡°So, it¡¯s excused then?!¡± I hissed. My anger had peaked and was now ebbing, leaving me exhausted body and soul, but not mind. I needed to calculate a way to retrieve Larissen. How could I influence this conversation? Kate was flustered, she was digging a proverbial hole¨Cthen the idea hit me. ¡°Tell me why then. Why should I forgive, because mother knows I¡¯ll never forget!¡± ¡°Wha¨C? Look,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re different. I didn¡¯t realize just how different. But if you were a regular kunny, then I would never have fallen for you.¡± I scoffed. ¡°And that excuses how you treated me? How humans treat us?¡± ¡°Why¡¯re you so insistent on lumping yourself in with these other animals?¡± Kate asked angrily, some spittle flying loose from her lips and landing on my fur. ¡°Why?! Because you and the world see me as one already!¡± I shouted. ¡°Yeah, but they aren¡¯t human!¡± ¡°I¡¯m not human!¡± I shrieked. ¡°But the way you act¨Cit¡¯s just like a human. You¡¯re just like one of us, just¡­ just¡­ with deviations.¡± She justified, more to herself than to me. I was unsure what she even meant by deviations. Unless she thought I was some mutant, escaped from a carnie show. ¡°You¡¯ve known me for what, a few days?¡± I asked. ¡°What happens when your infatuation with me ends?¡± I would have glared at her to make my point, but she was still holding me firm, my back against her chest. ¡°That¡¯s not going to ever happen,¡± she insisted. ¡°But how can I trust that?! All I know is how you humans behave. And it¡¯s not great.¡± ¡°They just need to get to know that you¡¯re different, then they¡¯ll accept it! And if not, I¡¯ll protect you.¡± She seemed so confident that she could protect me. But could she, against all the other humans? Would she stand by what she was saying now? What about when the world turned against her? For some reason, I doubted it. ¡°There¡¯s a problem with that plan of yours,¡± I said. ¡°What?¡± she asked. ¡°This all depends on you! What if¨Cwhen¨Cyou change your mind?¡± ¡°Yeah, but I won¡¯t.¡± ¡°But what if you do?¡± I insisted, hoping to make her see the folly she was asking me to commit too. She groaned. ¡°How can I convince you otherwise? Name it. Let me prove I¡¯m serious here.¡± I scoffed, shaking my head, cooling down somewhat. I could at least get her to help me, if she was going to harass me then she might as well be useful. ¡°Help me find Larissen,¡± I said. ¡°Prove that you¡¯ll put a Kaiva first before the humans.¡± She paused. ¡°Like I thought.¡± ¡°No¨CIt¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s just not easy, yeah?¡± I scoffed in disgust, hitting her with my head. ¡°Let me go,¡± I demanded. ¡°You¨Cthis isn¡¯t that simple!¡± she protested. ¡°You¡¯re asking me to go against orders!¡± ¡°Like that makes a difference to you. I¡¯ve seen you go against orders before.¡± ¡°Not an important one like this. The wyrkwik could already be attacking the group!¡± I thought I would have heard the sounds of combat, if that were so. Even echoing through the narrow passage. However, that was not the case. ¡°This proves it.¡± I said, letting loose a bitter laugh. ¡°I knew I couldn¡¯t trust you. I¡¯m just a novelty. You don¡¯t really care.¡± ¡°I do!¡± she said, lying, I was certain. ¡°Then prove it.¡± I crossed my arm across my chest. She hesitated, before nodding, and setting me down. ¡°Fine. Fine!¡± she shouted. ¡°Let¡¯s make it quick. He couldn¡¯t have gone far.¡± An awkward moment passed where neither of us moved. She was still holding me. Her breath, her chest moving, pressed against my back, my tail wrapping around her thigh; even though we had both exhausted strong emotions, or perhaps because of it, I grew incredibly aware of her body, and the surface between her and I. From the way her breath hitched, I thought she might have experienced that as well. And then she swept me up further and cradled me and began a brisk yet careful pace further down into the cavern. ¡°You know I don¡¯t think you¡¯re an animal, yeah?¡± Kate asked out of nowhere as she continued carrying me. The argument must have been bothering her. Which was good. It should be bothering her. I shook my head and clamped my mouth shut. She certainly could have fooled me. Normally caging a person is reserved for after the second date. However, the argument was immaterial, and we had a vested interest in avoiding alerting any potential enemies of our position: sound had a way of traveling through these caverns. But Kate was missing the hint, and she continued to keep the conversation going. ¡°Why¡¯re you so insistent on finding this¨Cguy?¡± Kate asked, though she seemed to have swapped in a different word at the end of that sentence there. Or perhaps I was projecting, but I had a feeling it would have been less than complimentary. This question I could answer. But again, discussion would be counterproductive. Instead I gave the shortest answer I could think of, if perhaps a bit curt. ¡°Do you normally abandon your allies?¡± I asked, answering her question with a question. ¡°He abandoned you first,¡± Kate said in a hushed tone. ¡°He made you look like a fool. He tried luring you away to kill you. How did he get you so wrapped and twisted?¡± she asked. ¡°You should be happy I want you to come with us without him.¡± Those were legitimate points. I suppose, given the dearth of better options, I had been latching on to suboptimal alliances. But in Larissen¡¯s point, he only ever betrayed me when his sister¡¯s life was on the line. I suppose I took too long considering, as she took my nonresponse as a point. ¡°Exactly,¡± she said. ¡°So why are you sticking your neck out for him now?¡± There were a lot of reasons. A lot of tactical, important reasons. But before I could answer that, she tacked on another question, and this one far more accusatory. She continued, ¡°More than that, why are you sticking out mine and everyone else¡¯s neck?¡± ¡°You followed me,¡± I said simply, trying to keep the emotions from spilling over. ¡°I tried to go alone. You¨C¡± I swallowed and really tried to drive this home through her thick skull ¡°-you followed me.¡± ¡°To try and stop you!¡± she insisted. ¡°To save you!¡± By this point, all considerations for stealth had been forgotten. Kate and I were now in a battlefield of words, where she and I both fought for supremacy in a cold war of ambushes and feints. Or, more likely, my fever had begun actively degrading cognitive functions. Regardless, I would not give in this time. There needed to be some degree of mutual respect. ¡°It was not your right!¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t belong to you.¡± ¡°Well maybe you should!¡± ¡°Excuse me?¡± ¡°...¡± she paused, before doubling down. ¡°Clearly you aren¡¯t making great decisions. You want me to just let you run off and die? How far can you even walk right now? For the crown¡¯s sake! I¡¯m carrying you right now, as we speak!¡± I shut down. I could not be owned. The very thought of it left me in a state of impotent fury that left me sputtering, spitting, and snarling. When I realized I could not speak, at least not in any language Kate would recognize, I began flailing, twisting, kicking, and even biting, all in a messy confrontation to attempt and secure my freedom. I would not be owned. I just¡­ would¡­ not! My left stump began bleeding, the wound opened from the sealed flesh. My sides twinged and almost snapped. My jaws latched onto Kate¡¯s shoulder, and I bit as hard as I could, but apparently not hard enough to even draw blood. I saw red. I heard it. All I could taste was this strange energy that refused to make sense, refused to rationalize, and superseded all thought. Was I feral? The thought caused my anger to only grow. A toe claw latched on below Kate¡¯s chin. I kicked as hard as I could. Nothing ripped, nothing tore, only my flesh and bones were strained. I panted for breath, I had to release her shoulder. A pressure wrapped around me. A white static. Diffuse heat. After an indeterminate amount of time, my breathing evened out. I had overreacted. My cheeks heated; my ears and tail wilted. Not good. Not good at all. But salvageable. Emotional outbreaks were allowed, and if performed in moderation, could garner sympathy. Sometimes. Depending on previous relations. I finally realized where the pressure was coming from. Kate had stopped walking, choosing instead to lean against a wall and slide down, with me now wrapped strongly in her arms, on her lap, with her squeezing me just on the verge of discomfort. She had even been rocking. Her breath was like thunder to complement the galloping of my heartbeat. Several deep breaths later, my wits completely returned. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have said that,¡± Kate apologized, or came as close to it as I had ever heard. ¡°I¡¯ll never think of you as property, I swear.¡± ¡°Or an animal?¡± I asked quietly. I hated that I sounded that weak. But honestly, I would have chosen to sound that way, even if I were strong. It was too useful to foster the impression to leverage my¡­ rigorous outburst. ¡°Or that,¡± she said. ¡°What¨C¡± I started to ask, but several questions competed for supremacy, until finally I settled on the most important one and changed course. ¡°-how long did we waste?¡± I asked. ¡°Too long.¡± ¡°And we were too loud¡­¡± I sighed regretfully, not feigned this time. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¨CI overreacted.¡± That was only a slight lie. ¡°A bit,¡± she nodded, agreeing, seemingly accepting the apology though. I narrowed my eyes. She should have rejected it. She must have felt me tense, as she added hastily, ¡°But I could have chosen my words better.¡± She climbed to her feet, still holding me. ¡°And you¡¯re still not fit to walk. Think we¡¯ll find Larss soon?¡± ¡°Larissen,¡± I corrected idly. ¡°And I hope so.¡± Featherlight: 5/9 (+1) We had turned down towards the cavern and began walking. As the element of stealth could not even be pretended, we continued chatting in low voices. After some time, I heard soft steps padding towards us. They were close. In the gloom, I thought I saw a feline figure stalking towards us. My lips pulled back and my ears perked up. ¡°Larissen,¡± I said. Kate froze, then let me down to my feet and put a hand on her sword hilt, ready for confrontation. I ignored her, still focused on Larissen. ¡°Did you find him?¡± I asked, referring to the alchemist he had been scouting for. Larissen hissed. ¡°This one failed. His scent disappeared.¡± ¡°This was all for nothing then?!¡± Kate near-shouted, blame and condensation dripping from her tone. ¡°Fallen gods take your hide!¡± She glared at Larissen. ¡°You said Charson came this way!¡± ¡°Yes. As the prey did¡­¡± he paused warily, eyeing me in her arms. ¡°Why this aggression?¡± I interjected before Kate could pick a fight with Larissen. ¡°The mikuya were approaching our position,¡± I said. ¡°And the the humans did not leave?¡± ¡°They wanted to. I¨Cwe¨Ccame to find you.¡± Larissen remained silent for a time, considering. ¡°If this is a bust we need to head back,¡± Kate said, spinning around and leaving, without carrying me. It would be the first time that I had to actually walk in a while, and I relished the opportunity to exert my independence. At least I did until I took several steps, and found my legs uncoordinated. I stumbled along until Larissen steadied me. ¡°What happened?¡± I asked him. ¡°The scent disappeared. This one ranged further ahead and found no signs. No cracks or hidden passages were found. The prey frustrates the hunt.¡± ¡°We told you the Alchemist was tricky,¡± Kate said from up ahead. ¡°He could have made a tincture to fool you.¡± ¡°Unlikely,¡± Larissen spat, offended. ¡°Do you still have those two vials?¡± I asked. He nodded, but made no motion to return them. ¡°At least we got something out of this,¡± Kate grumbled. ¡°Those might be the only thing that save us now.¡± Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.5.19 The sounds of combat echoed across the cavern walls as we neared the sky-lit pit. At first, it was only an echo, which even my ears strained to hear over the ambiance of our footfalls. Larissen heard it as well, which was no surprise, his ears were as keen as mine. ¡°The rest of the humans are fighting,¡± Larissen said, eyeing Kate speculatively, but otherwise unhurried. ¡°Perhaps these ones should head elsewhere?¡± While the Kaivan manner of speech was always burdensome to understand, Kate, after a helpful nudge from myself, was able to parse what he was saying. He was proposing that we abandon the other humans and find another way out. And considering that the pit opened up towards the sky, it was reasonable to assume that we could very well escape while the humans kept the mikuya distracted. His proposal contained merit, and his ill-will towards the humans seemed justified. But, there were reasons to attend to the humans and proffer aid. Namely, that reason was Kate. ¡°We are not abandoning them!¡± Kate snapped. ¡°What good are you even?! I thought you Kaiva were warriors.¡± She had sneered the word while glancing derisively at Larissen. He bristled and responded cryptically. ¡°Should a child lecture on the ways of combat?¡± Kate scoffed. Her hand on her hilt loosened just slightly. That was not a great sign. I noticed that she tended to tighten when forced to endure suffering, but loosened when preparing for combat. She was likely seconds away from striking. However, Larissen continued, perhaps sensing the danger. ¡°Regardless,¡± he said. ¡°This one defers to Kitten.¡± He turned his attention to me, intentionally turning away from Kate and diverting her ire, if only partially. ¡°Shall these ones attack a stronger force to save the humans?¡± ¡°Is there another way out?¡± I asked, my eyes following the cliffside walls up, from the floor of the pit up to where they met the overcast sky. Kate¡¯s upper lip trembled into an almost snarl and her eyes narrowed towards me, offended by my betrayal, at least from her perspective. ¡°We aren¡¯t abandoning them!¡± She spat. I resisted the urge to cave immediately to her demands. This was difficult, as she radiated an aura of fury that left me wishing to flinch away. But the question had to be asked. It was better for some to escape then for all to perish. And if I failed to at least consider Larissen¡¯s proposal, then he would grow even more resentful. So I avoided her glare and looked to Larissen for my answer. ¡°Could we climb out?¡± I asked him. ¡°This one thinks perhaps yes,¡± Larissen answered, his ears pert and his stance crouched, ready to spring should Kate draw her sword. With her focused upon me, she gave no indication that she noticed the change in his posture. ¡°Will the mikuya follow us?¡± I asked, adding another question towards Larissen. Kate scoffed and answered, ¡°probably, but it doesn¡¯t matter since we¡¯re not leaving.¡± She was now looming over me, but I resisted! I instead flicked an ear towards Larissen. ¡°Possibly,¡± he admitted. ¡°But much ground could be covered before.¡± Now that his idea had been openly considered, I could now steer him away from that and oblige Kate, beginning by asking a simple question.¡°But could the vials be used to defeat them¨Cthe mikuya?¡± After a pause, he gave a rigid nod. Kate¡¯s posture began to calm down as she may have had an inkling that I was not immediately for abandoning her allies. ¡°But the vials would be insufficient for resolution,¡± he added, as though any of us thought that simply throwing the vials would be enough to guarantee permanently removing the mikuya. He was likely seeking out additional justification for fleeing, trying to sway me, and possibly (but unlikely) Kate as well. I noticed his tail was lashing behind him. He was growing impatient. The longer we discussed and debated, the worse our prospects, regardless of the action taken. ¡°We could split?¡± I asked, feigning a nervous tone. ¡°Send the vials back with Kate?¡± Larissen scoffed in denial at the same time Kate said, ¡°no.¡± Were the situation different, I might have found humor in their brief agreement. ¡°What would happen if the mikuya found us?¡± I asked Larissen, dragging the point before him. His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. His claws jutted out from his fingers just slightly. His answer need not be verbal. ¡°Then it¡¯s best for us to have allies, in case we face another skirmish,¡± I stated the obvious facts. ¡°Especially since it¡¯s not guaranteed that we would escape here, let alone before the mikuya found us. And our vials could win this battle the humans currently face.¡± Larissen growled in a way reminiscent of a groan. ¡°Why not just lay our lives down to save them then?¡± he asked rhetorically. ¡°It is a risk,¡± I agreed. ¡°But our chances are better together than apart.¡± ¡°Enough!¡± Kate said. ¡°We need to godslickin hurry!¡± Kate swore. She picked me up, slung me over her shoulder like baggage, and began jogging towards the narrow crack in the wall which led to a cramped passage and eventually to the conflict between the humans and the mikuya. Larissen followed reluctantly. So, while the air was pushed out from my lungs with every step, and while my side and arm throbbed in pain to match, I gasped out in the Kaivan tongue, ¡°the humans have our rations,¡± while holding his eyes. I was unsure if Kate heard me, though I hope not. After that reminder though, Larissen did pick up the pace. As we approached, from the shouts, pained grunts, and clashing instruments, it was clear that the battle grew dire. While Kate may have heard some of it, she missed some of the nuances, such as the battle shouts, and the unmistakable sound of steel slicing flesh, and the more ominous clicking of taut wire like vines over joints. Naturally, I kept her abreast of all I heard. And just as naturally, she sought more than I could provide. ¡°How many are there?¡± Kate asked, leading the way by squeezing through the crack. She was too impatient to wait further. Yet only yards separated us from the battle. As we feared that we would be entering the battle from a disadvantaged single-file, we sent Kate through first with one of the two vials. The vials were unmarked, but the cloudy orange fluid appeared caustic enough and hopefully lethal to the mikuya. Though delivering it to them without ingesting the caustics ourselves would be a challenge, one I was all too content to delegate. Kate had now gone far enough ahead that I struggled to hear her over the chaos of battle, and specifically of the popping-clacking of the mikuya. From past encounters, I suspected that the mikuya were more animated by the vines covering and spearing into their flesh than by the flesh and blood of the infested victim. ¡°Too many,¡± Larissen said. Belatedly, I realized he was answering Kate¡¯s question, though I doubted she heard. Next after her, there went Larissen. It surprised me, but I supposed he felt the need to protect the ¡®Kitten.¡¯ A foolish premise, but a useful one all the same. Not being combat ready had its advantages, such as being last into the fray. As I squeezed and contorted into the crack, Larissen added under his breath, but loud enough that I could still hear even though he was ahead, ¡°It is still possible to flee.¡± Again, he was pushing for the abandonment of the humans. And granted, were we to do so, now would be the perfect time. But all of the reasons from before were still valid. ¡°Then we¡¯d face even worse odds,¡± I explained, more grunted, as I wrestled my own path through the narrow gap. It remained unsaid that my reasons were likely different from his. For example, I would rather not allow Kate to perish. At least not without suitable reason. When I crawled near the gap, yet before I could see the space, I heard Muleater curse over the waves of mikuya. And as for the mikuya, their musk was near suffocating. I tasted their battle-hunger. My own hackles rose in response. I felt it wise to append my previous statement in the Kaivan tongue. ¡°Worst comes to worst, throw the vial. Then, these ones escape.¡± Larissen made no response, at least not that I heard, and I could only see flashes of his tail ahead of me, though he might have nodded in agreement. If necessary, I was more than willing to shout. But I would prefer not to alert the mikuya to our position, especially as Kate was soon to be exiting. Stealth I: 4/9 (+1) The cramped crawl took an eternity. Or it felt that way. In actuality, only minutes passed. I could finally make out the exact words of the humans. Their plight sounded desperate. ¡°Gods take you vermin!¡± Ken¡¯s bellowing shout covered the din momentarily, before a wet sucking twang. ¡°We can¡¯t hold them!¡± ¡°We¡¯re not leaving my niece!¡± Muleater¡¯s voice shouted back. ¡°Perhaps, perhaps not abandoning, so much as retreating to regroup and strategize?¡± Manny Stillson oozed. I was halfway through, and Kate must have been nearing the exit. ¡°Retreat?!¡± Ken barked, almost a manic laugh. ¡°How?! They¡¯ll chase us down.¡± ¡°But¨C!¡± the Caravan Master protested. Ken shut him down. ¡°We can hold them from the side-passage. At least most of us can esca¨Cargh!¡± His dialogue cut off. ¡°Ken!¡± Muleater roared. Footsteps pounded followed by a meaty schlurp. ¡°It¡¯ll take more than that,¡± Ken said, almost coughed, his voice strained, ¡°to put¨Cme¨Cdown!¡± ¡°Here!¡± Kate¡¯s voice sounded. Steel flashed across leather and vines, snapping through them as through taut rubber bands. ¡°We¡¯re back!¡± ¡°Crown be praised!¡± the Caravan Master shouted. ¡°The vials?!¡± ¡°Got one,¡± Kate answered. She must have pulled one out. ¡°Throw it!¡± Muleater shouted. Larissen made it to the exit, following after, but stopped abruptly. I ran into his tail unceremoniously. ¡°Wait!¡± he hissed loudly, not to me, but to Kate. But it was too late. I heard a whoosh. A smack. A tinkling of broken glass. Then a noxious odor reminiscent of the night we escaped the caravan, of the yellow smoke that dissolved organic matter. Sounds of combat paused momentarily, one second stretched to the next. I had yet to see what happened, but in those seconds, I hoped that Kate succeeded, that the caustic fog obstructed the path completely, that our escape was secured. And then the silence broke. Ken grunted, Muleater swore, and Gregory along with Manny, they lamented. ¡°Fools,¡± Larissen scolded. He finished exiting, and I followed, if cautiously. When I stuck my head out to peek at the scene, I saw why Larissen had reacted. The mikuya had not been halted, nor even delayed. Their formation was built around an infested bear, one that looked both ancient and giant, with large tentacles sprouting from its back like a prop from a low-budget horror film. One of its tendrils had been severed and leaked pus on the ground, but there were five more that spread out to cover its flanks. But that was not all protecting its flanks. Smaller mikuya fought alongside it. Two hundeor, one missing an arm, the other a leg, both with tendrils providing poor replacements and growing thicker as the fight progressed. Five vultures harried the humans from above and behind, distracting them and forcing them to divide their attention. Smaller rodents and vermin weaved beneath the feet, ruining the footing and providing questionable support to the bear. I thought there may have been several marmots as well. It was chaos. And they were still alive and well and pursuing combat. And as bad as they were? They were only the vanguard. Behind the bear was a column of mikuya, comprising of a variety of infested, from humans to dogs and cats, and animals I had yet to encounter in the wastes. I thought I even saw a Kaivan. I did not take time to count their army, but it was not less than twenty mid-sized creatures, with a handful of large beasts such as the bear. The gorge was narrow enough, more of a long crevasse between the two cliff walls, that the caustic fog should have halted them. Should have. That was not the case. Floating above them at least ten yards, the cloud of fog floated asymmetrically, almost hugging one of the walls. Other than obstructing the flyers from one direction, the fog was doing very little to hinder the enemy. The vial had broken against the walls of the crevasse, but far too high to hinder ground traffic. Larissen was correct. This situation was untenable. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Mother-, I swore internally. As I took all this in, Kate joined Ken and Muleater at the front, subbing in for Ken and allowing him to fall back to wrap his injuries and take a respite. ¡°What happened?¡± I asked Larissen in a low voice, using Kaivan in case it was sensitive. He was hanging back behind Kate and Muleater, catching vermin on his talons as he could. He ceased movement until a rat or vulture came within range, and then he flickered forward to spear them either with his fingers or his toes. ¡°The vial was thrown in haste. It was deflected and sent far off course. It should not have been thrown in haste.¡± Disgust dripped from Larissen¡¯s tone and mannerisms, coupled with the way he wiped a flailing infested rat from his claws. ¡°Our chances are foul.¡± Gregory groaned from behind me. ¡°This is hopeless!¡± The Caravan Master meanwhile registered Larissen and myself. He came to us, a frantic wide eyed expression conveying almost-madness. ¡°Tell me you found Charson or his cache,¡± Manny shouted while grabbing my shoulders and shaking me, ¡°Tell me!¡± I winced at the pain and gasped, a fire spreading through my left side where my sore inflamed nerves screamed. Before I could snap, Larissen beat me to it. ¡°Fat qavi! Release Kitten! Go seek the prey yourself¨C¡± he knocked Manny¡¯s hands away from me, ¡°-that is, if your girth fits through the passageway.¡± The Caravan Master snarled and moved to grab Larissen, I think more by instinct than deliberation. Larissen ducked under his arms and smeared infested blood across his jowls. Above, the cloud of yellow smoke was still spreading, albeit slowly. It crept outward, expanding downard but also to the sides and upwards as well. Every bit it expanded also diluted the effect just slightly, and it had a long way to travel before blocking off the gorge, if it ever did at all. Ken finished wrapping his midsection with strips of gray cloth, but the cloth was already stained with blood and the wound smelled of offal. While knowledge of his specific wound eluded me, I could guess that he had been partially disemboweled, judging by the scent. If that was the case, I had my doubts he would survive. Before the Caravan Master could further antagonize Larissen, I made a recommendation. ¡°We still have the other vial,¡± I said. ¡°Perhaps we could use it rather than turning on eachother?¡± ¡°It may be a waste,¡± Larissen spoke in Kaivan, for me alone. ¡°But it might not,¡± I answered him in the same language. ¡°What are you animals saying?¡± Gregory asked. Larissen hissed and clicked his tongue at Gregory, but I spoke first. Tensions were currently high, for good reason, but if I wanted to survive, then we would need to cooperate. That meant less needling. So I pointed up at the mustard fog, where it had been displaced by a rotten throw, by poor execution. ¡°To prevent that from happening again.¡± ¡°That wasn¡¯t Kate¡¯s fault!¡± Gregory snapped. I had not said that. Why did his argument offend me so? I licked my lips and calmed myself, while sounding as condescending as I could. ¡°Who said that it was?¡± I asked. ¡°Godslicking idiots!¡± Ken snarled. ¡°Enough chatter¨C¡± he thrust his hand out, palm up, towards Larissen and I. ¡°-give me the vial. I¡¯ll take care of the rest.¡± Larissen narrowed his eyes, his ears flat, and his tail swishing briskly. ¡°How can these ones be sure that this one cannot throw truer?¡± he asked roughly in imperial. Ken¡¯s face scrunched in confusion. I sighed and translated. ¡°He wants to know how you¡¯re so certain that you¡¯ll throw the vial better than Larissen will.¡± Ken growled and snapped impatiently, ¡°Just hand it over!¡± ¡°You¡¯re wounded,¡± Manny Stillson stated. ¡°And the kunny are renowned for physical labors. Perhaps¨C¡± Just then, one of the bear¡¯s tendrils slapped Muleater¡¯s sword upward, leaving her hips unprotected from the bear¡¯s fore-paw. It swiped Muleater and sent her staggering. An infested hundeor lunged forward to take advantage. Ken shouted a warning. But Kate was already moving, flashing to the side with a lunge then a pirouette, almost as a ballerina, her blade making a mockery of the hundeor and separating its leading limb at the wrist. I rubbed my own stump in empathy for the infested creature. But with Muleater still off balance, the mikuya pressed forward. Kate was only one person, and despite her acuity and speed, she could not cover the entire passage. The smaller creatures, the vermin, they began slipping through enmasse. A cat, sensing a chance, leapt atop the bear, then flung itself up and over the front lines. Ken swore again and forgot the last vial, instead throwing a rock at the cat. I heard something tear within the man¡¯s body, his wound opening further. He grunted, but otherwise ignored the pain, pushing up to Muleater and pulling her back. ¡°What¨C?¡± Muleater began to demand. ¡°Recover.¡± Ken took Muleater¡¯s sword as he spoke; his own sword had been lost previously when the Jungleborn had ambushed us. Kate made room for him, and the position was stabilized for the time being. Muleater grumbled about cocky small-brained men, but only as she checked her thigh where the bear had struck. Notably, there was little blood. The coloration of her pants made it difficult to tell, and the material had already been slicked from the leaking pus of the mikuya, but the fabric had not been torn. I thought that Muleater might have been as surprised as me that the wounds were not greater. But after she checked under her pants, she simply shook her head then turned to Larissen. ¡°Well?¡± Mulater asked with expectation, most likely referring to the remaining vial. ¡°We don¡¯t know what the vial does,¡± I said. The vial held a clear fluid, one I had not seen the Alchemist use previously. To accentuate my point, Larissen held the vial up in the gloom for Muleater to see. The Caravan Master was the one to confirm. ¡°Perhaps a solvent,¡± he said. ¡°But without Charson here, it is impossible¨C¡± his voice cracked slightly ¡°-to tell. We can only gamble and hope.¡± Muleater scoffed disparagingly. ¡°Got any other ideas?¡± The yellow fog had drifted low enough that the bottom most portion of the yellow cloud brushed against the top of the bear. It gave a silent roar and its skin cracked and popped; its muscles tensed, or rather, the exoskeleton of vines and tendrils tensed and coiled like steel cables under tension. It could not retreat, as many mikuya congested the passage behind it. It could not remain in its position, as the fog was descending upon it¨Calbeit incredibly slowly¨Clikely only causing an excuse to press its attack. ¡°Back!¡± I shouted, at the same time that Kate and Ken sounded the alarm. Larissen had already begun pulling me away from the fight, away from the fork, and further along the narrow gully. In the end, the bear¡¯s attack was anticlimactic. It leapt forward, its powerful hindlegs propelling it forward by half a yard. I thought it would go further. That much weight would have barreled through our lines, regardless of sword play. But it stopped just at our line, knocking Ken and Kate back several steps, but otherwise having no dramatic effect. The fog lowered a little more, but its rate of descent slowed, visibly slowed, and it hardly drifted further. The hundeor and mid-sized creatures easily traveled under the fog, still not obstructed at all. Kate and Ken stepped back gracefully as the mikuya continued to push forward. All of us were forced back, step by step, to make room for the fighters and their fighting retreat. With the entrance to the side tunnel now covered with Jungleborn, we had no means to retreat except the one. Our best bet would be to block off the rest of the space beneath the caustic fog, or to hold the mikuya back beyond it until the fog finally spread out enough to obstruct the entire passage. ¡°This one¨C¡± Larissen said slowly, consideringly, as he hefted the vial in his palm testing its weight ¡°-this one intends to throw.¡± I nodded in agreement. I could find no fault with Larissen¡¯s intent. Especially as we were continuously pushed back and would soon lose sight of the fog. But I would hate for the vial to be thrown off course once more; there were still mikuya flyers harassing us, afterall. I stooped over and grabbed a rock of my own, hefting it awkwardly. It was approximately the same size as the vial. With a sleight of hand, one would not tell instantly it was not the vial. Larissen saw me, and seemed to approve. ¡°Ready?¡± I asked. ¡°After me.¡± He nodded. ¡°Yes,¡± he confirmed. I threw my rock, a toss more than anything. It flew overhead. A vulture swept down to intercept. In the following instant, Larissen loosed his vial, with a much faster throw, aimed true. The vulture, already committed to the stone, failed to alter its course in time. The vial flew over Muleater, over Ken, and bounced off the backside of the bear. The soft backside of the bear. We needed the vial to break. ¡°Did that¨C¡± Gregory began to ask, having been watching all the time, and likely fearing the same as I. The vial bounced though. It clattered. I heard it clatter. It must have struck a stone. But nothing happened. ¡°-not break?¡± Gregory finished his question which we were all silently thinking. ¡°If it did break, then it¡¯s a dud,¡± Muleater growled. ¡°Perhaps a solvent, as afeared,¡± the Caravan Master whispered. ¡°We are doomed.¡± ¡°No,¡± Muleater said softly, then repeated with a firm voice. ¡°No. We are not. Look!¡± she pointed at the fog. It had lowered by perhaps another foot in the interim, forcing the hundeor to duck or drop to a quadrupedal stance, not that it hindered them by much. ¡°We force them back and hold until the passage is blocked. Then we retreat!¡± Ken grunted; while he had been listening in, he had perhaps been partially distracted. A tendril from the bear slapped his face, causing spit and blood and perhaps a tooth to fly. He did not fall, but swore and dove at the bear with his sword, stabbing it in through the shoulder of the beast. However, this careless attack left him overextended. The bear¡¯s claws parted leather and flesh in retribution, its tendrils struck his neck, but still Ken pushed forward. ¡°Guardson!¡± Muleater shouted at the same time as Kate, ¡°Uncle!¡± ¡°Suicide or bravado?¡± the Caravan Master asked. While Ken dove in, the bear was not pushed back. Ken was to one side of the bear, and the lesser beasts there were pushed back, but not the bear. No, the bear was far too large for that. Kate tried to cover for him, but she was on the other flank, and she had yet to abandon her own defense, though her pained face made it obvious she was considering it. That could not be allowed. ¡°Do something!¡± I hissed at Larissen. I did not know what could be done, but something must. But as frantically as I searched for ideas, I came up with naught. From experience, I knew Illusions were worse than useless against the Jungleborn, as though they failed to even perceive them. I could not climb, not with one arm, and even if I could it would not help. And my ability to leave no trail would be useless in this situation, unless I struck out upon my own. What we needed was a coordinated push. Muleater could fight. Larissen could fight. The rest of us, perhaps not, but also perhaps yes. ¡°What should this one do?¡± Larissen asked bemusedly. ¡°We need to get to the vial!¡± I insisted. ¡°Would be death, This one thinks.¡± Muleater at the time had rejoined the front, attempting to support Ken as the man was struck again and again by tendrils and claws. How he remained fighting, I knew not. But I suspected it had to do with either a Mark or a lesser power. Gregory and the Caravan Master looked on, though the Caravan Master eyed the way behind him, as though weighing his chances of splitting and routing. Those two provided me with no value, worse than that, they had been antagonistic towards me and reduced my standing in the group. Gregory had the excuse of youth at least. But the Caravan Master¡­ I shoved him with my good arm. ¡°Aid them!¡± I demanded of Manny Stillson. ¡°Why not you?¡± Manny snarled, taking another step back, closer to Larissen and I, as we had been leading the retreat. ¡°I have not a warrior¡¯s mein.¡± His statement may have rung true, for he was no warrior. Other than a knife for food, he carried no weapon, and his soft arms showed he lacked practice with any physical labor. But we were scraping the bottom of the barrel, and Kate had begun to frantically slash, both at the bear¡¯s tendrils, its flank when she could, and the lesser beasts before her, but as she slashed, she received damage along her shins and thighs and off side. The small lacerations bled, bled sweetly. She was my chiefmost ally besides Larissen, and this was how I rationalized my concern. This forced my hand. I acted for the greater good. I shoved at the Caravan Master once more. He protested. ¡°Stop that!¡± he swore, insulting me with a sneer, though panic was creeping in at the edge of his voice. ¡°Larissen,¡± I said in Kaivan, ¡°there is no love for this man. Perhaps his corpulence could delay our enemies?¡± Larissen flashed me a feline grin. ¡°Yes,¡± Larissen agreed, for he held no love for the fat merchant. ¡°Stop this at once!¡± The Caravan Master protested strongly, glaring at me, then more fearfully at the larger Kaivan. Larissen grabbed him by his vest and forcefully turned him so that his front faced the ongoing battle. ¡°No!¡± Help!¡± But none of the human warriors were within range, only the boy Gregory. ¡°Hey!¡± Gregory shouted. ¡°Unhand him!¡± Gregory pulled his own knife loose, but hesitated, for he was no warrior either. Just a child. An arrogant, spoiled child, who faltered in the face of true adversity. Larissen began shoving the Caravan Master forward, towards the battle. ¡°Arm yourself,¡± I called after him, granting him my advice. ¡°No!¡± the Caravan Master screamed. Muleater glanced behind, at the Caravan Master who was being forced into battle. But it was only a glance, hardly spared, before she turned back to the mikuya jaguar she was currently fighting. The Caravan Master reached the line and was shoved past Kate, she gracefully stepped to the side near the bear, turning the maneuver into slash, this one upward diagonally against the flank and tendrils, neatly slicing one of its two remaining tendrils in half. The Caravan Master was shoved bodily into a hundeor and kept going, as Larissen used the man as a shield. They breached past the bear¡¯s rear, and Larissen gave the Caravan Master a final shove, sending him falling forward, arms pinwheeling, as the mikuya fell upon him. Manny Stillson, while a cretin, I will say this: his screams were memorable. And they served an adequate distraction. ¡°The vial!¡± I shouted towards no one in particular. Larissen wasted no time. He crouched down, out of sight from where I was, and came up shortly after with something in his hand. It was large enough to be a whole vial. He slammed it on the ground, ahead of him, near where the Caravan Master writhed and screamed. This time, glass shattered. A hiss of volume rose up, a mist. Larissen jumped back, over the bear, still beneath the fog on the periphery of its radius, and clawed his way back while stealing a tendril along the way. The fogs met, the white with the yellow, and white phosphorescence popped at the surface between the gasses. Heat and miniature stars flared when I stared. Larissen leapt back from the front of the bear and landed behind our lines. The Caravan Master¡¯s screams amplified, then grew muted as the fog covered him. Eventually, they tapered off into a mewling, which lasted much longer than I had thought. In a way, I was horrified. A man had died. Granted, the man was a slaver, and likely would have done either me or Larissen in given the chance. But I had motivated Larissen to slay him. I was at least partially responsible for the death. No, I was completely responsible for it. I already planned for ways to recover relations with the surviving humans. But that was only granted by the luxury of survival. After all, guilt could never be felt by the dead. I hoped. With the passage sealed, at least temporarily, Kate finished the remainder of lesser creatures. Larissen caught the flyers as they came low enough for his pounce to catch them. Muleater grabbed her sword back from Ken and drove it into the bear¡¯s neck, until the blade went clean through. The bear struggled on, but the clacking of taut vines and tendrils slowed as it lost more of its mass and sustained more damage. I detected sadness from the bear, but not heartbreak, and not the woe that I would associate with imminent death. Instead, it was the sorrow of a lost or wasted possession. Soon, the bear stopped emitting any emotion at all, just the stink of infested death. Muleater finished pulling her sword out from the bear and gave it a kick for good measure. Ken was leaning against the wall, gasping for air, his front a mess of riven flesh. Kate nudged a body into the mist and watched it begin bubbling and warping. Gregory, however, was not taking well the noble sacrifice of the Caravan Master. In fact, Gregory had finally worked the courage to confront me over it. He had finally drawn his cheese knife and leveled it towards me. Despite the grimy steel pointed towards me, I was unworried. If Gregory truly meant me harm, he would have pulled some artificed device. And as it was, Larissen was near enough to intervene. And Gregory knew it. The other humans began gathering around. ¡°W-why?!¡± Gregory shuddered, waving his knife at me. ¡°Why¡¯d you have to kill him?!¡± Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.5.20 ¡°W-why?!¡± Gregory shuddered. He took a faltering step towards Larissen, his knife in one hand, and a glowing device in the other; some artificed object that I had seen him clutch from time to time. I assumed a weapon of some sort, but it could just have easily been a memento. ¡°It worked,¡± I said, before Larissen felt it necessary to resolve the situation with violence. ¡°Y-you murdered him!¡± Gregory retorted, spittle flying from his grimy lips. ¡°He was a non-combatant. You should have protected him¨Cus!¡± ¡°Agreed.¡± Muleater helped Ken find a comfortable position to recline, some distance from the corpses of the mikuya. I was unsure if Muleater was agreeing with Gregory or with us, but considering that Gregory was a fellow human, I knew which way I was betting. Apparently, I was not the only one that assumed such. ¡°Was this one expected to lay down his own life?¡± Larissen hissed at Muleater. If I said nothing, it appeared we would devolve into a conflict amongst ourselves. Obviously, I intervened. ¡°The smoke won¡¯t block the passage for long,¡± I said, reminding them all of the real issue. ¡°We can discuss while we move. Make the caravan master¡¯s sacrifice worthwhile.¡± Gregory scoffed. ¡°Sacrifice? That¡¯s rich.¡± He crossed his arms and glared at me, while Kate chewed on her lower lip in indecision. She glanced towards her aunt for a cue. Muleater, meanwhile, appeared torn. ¡°The respite may not last long, but Ken is in no shape to move,¡± Muleater said. Ken coughed, drawing all attention back to him where he leaned against a wall. ¡°Go,¡± he said, coughing again. Kate protested, ¡°We aren¡¯t leaving you behind¨C¡± ¡°Can¨Ccan¡¯t¨Csave¨C¡± he broke off into another raspy cough. Muleater sighed and pinched her brow. ¡°Gods take it Ken! We aren¡¯t leaving you behind!¡± ¡°No¡­ choice,¡± he gasped. A tear worked its way down Kate¡¯s cheek as she looked forlornly at Ken and his lacerated ribs. Ken coughed again, this time blood spilling from his mouth. I could have rushed us further, but there was a familial tension here. While I was unsure of it exactly, I knew that Ken and Janet were somehow related, either cousins or half siblings, and that Kate considered both of them as family. And now Ken was on his way out. But as the moment continued, I grew restless, along with Larissen, and even Gregory. Fortunately Larissen could read a room, and he held his peace, although he did fidget. It was Gregory that hurried us onward, thus drawing the ire onto himself. ¡°We don¡¯t know how long the alchemics will last before the creatures give chase,¡± Gregory said. ¡°We need to go.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not leaving one of my own behind!¡± Muleater snarled at Gregory, before stopping herself, taking a breath, and closing her eyes. ¡°I apologize if this is blunt, but were you not sworn to protect us?¡± Gregory asked, sounding hardly apologetic at all. ¡°L-leave!¡± Ken coughed again, hardly getting the word out. He took a gasping, wheezing breath, and somehow found the strength to utter, ¡°Give. Blayed.¡± I was unsure what that word meant. Blayed. I would ask later and learn it is an older word inherited by the Midden Empire to represent glory. The nation had a proud martial history. ¡°Ken¡­¡± Muleater said, before pausing. ¡°That¡­ I¡­¡± Gregory went to open his mouth again, but he finally noticed the glare Kate was sending his way. Larissen and I remained aloof from the rest. ¡°Please,¡± Ken coughed. ¡°...blayed¡­¡± Muleater grimaced, then nodded lightly. ¡°Always were the stubborn one,¡± she said. He chuckled, more of a cough and a wince, but I thought it was meant to be a chuckle. Blood dribbled down the side of his chin. ¡°No. You. Rem¨C¡± he coughed ¡°-member you ¡®n the hearh?¡± Another word. Hearh. From the context, I could not derive its meaning. ¡°It has to be down there somewhere!¡± Muleater returned his laugh, her grim lips curling up just slightly. ¡°You ready?¡± Ken closed his eyes and nodded, before opening them as wide as they would go and looking up at Muleater¡¯s face. ¡°Dreor bana¡­¡± Ken led off, wheezing several gasps before desperately finishing, ¡°ak blayed.¡± Muleater repeated grimly. ¡°Then dreor bana ak blayed.¡± As she finished speaking, she slid her dagger across Ken¡¯s throat, cutting deep. I gasped softly from surprise. I had not expected that. Despite the mortal wound, and the likely pain, Ken kept his eyes wide open, maintaining a vigilant stare as blood spurted out. Gregory¡¯s face paled at the sight of the copious blood. Kate watched on grimly. Larissen appeared disinterested. And Ken breathed his last with a gurgling gasp. Muleater remained over him for seconds more, before rising and turning towards us, or towards the only way out. Along the way, Muleater passed Kate, and put a hand on her shoulder. ¡°Your uncle died well,¡± Muleater said. Kate nodded, but said no more. Muleater pointedly ignored Gregory as she passed, and instead she glanced at me. Her lip twisted in the start of a sneer. ¡°Better have died today, and a crippled kundeor is still among us.¡± She spat at my feet, then kept going. ¡°Keep up, or don¡¯t. But never slow us down, or it will be my blade you taste.¡± I was flagging behind. My wounds left me weak, and my weakness left me unable to keep up with the others. I had gone from getting carried to walking. I thought of pressing Kate to hoist me along as she did before, but given her dark visage, I thought perhaps asking would prove unwise. Larissen might have aided me, but he needed his claws free and out, should the humans betray us, or the Jungleborn come upon us quickly. The canyon we moved through was not opening up, if anything, it appeared to be descending the further along we went. This was perhaps my only saving grace. If our journey was uphill instead, I would rather not think on it. We had been traveling for the better part of an hour. The alchemical barrier must have fallen by that point. We expected the Jungleborn to set themselves upon us at any moment. This made the rearmost position tricky. We needed a defensive, a, a deterrent, should the Jungleborn attack. Trackless Tracks: 8/9 (+1) I offered, as I was traveling towards the back anyways. Larissen volunteered the second he saw me do so. But Muleater refused, claiming she would rather someone she trusted at her back, or even the mikuya, who she would at least trust to strike her down, rather than Larissen who had already proven treacherous. I protested that assertion of course. The Caravan Master had been dead weight, and now he was dead. Not that I said that, of course. Given the fact I was the definition of dead weight, I truly did not wish any comparison made. So as it was, Larissen and I were the vanguard. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Which again, made little sense, except in a paranoid sort of way. If we kept ahead, then any trap or unstable footing would be spent upon us. If we kept ahead, then they could keep eyes upon us. But the problem was that I could not match their pace, not for long; my endurance was nonexistent. My energy had been exhausted. Each step became a challenge. I could only keep pressing on, knowing that failure would be worse than being left behind. For being left behind was a tolerable solution; the Jungleborn had spared me before, I thought they would do so again. No, the problem was that Muleater would just as quickly slit my throat, or Larissens¡¯, to deliver justice¨Cthe only reason she resisted was our dire circumstances. And, I suspect, that Larissen served as a disposable vanguard. Another step. Then another. I stumbled, and Larissen steadied me. He was in poor shape himself from the earlier skirmish. There was little to no lichen this deep in the canyon¨Cthat was further up the walls, near where light was present. We were in the gloom, but even in the dark, I could see the wet tears across his chest and derriere. Another step. I could do this. We were descending. Downhill. My foot clipped a loose rock. Another stumble. I caught myself on the wall. I was delayed momentarily. Too long. ¡°What¡¯s the hold up?!¡± Gregory asked. ¡°Kate, put your pet in its place!¡± ¡°Not her pet,¡± I muttered, putting myself back on my feet. Larissen had slowed beside me, his claws were out, and he hissed backwards, with his tail poofed. ¡°If you have energy to argue, then you can march,¡± Muleater said sternly. I tried finding support from the only human that was sympathetic, and I glanced towards Kate. But unlike her normal self, Kate remained quiet, glowering at Larissen and I. Was she blaming us? It seemed that way. Though it was not our fault her uncle had perished. But from her point of view, we likely contributed to his demise. This would be a tricky one; if I wanted to preserve her as an ally, I would need to exercise extreme caution. Were I to continually remind her of her uncle, or remain near her as she continued dwelling on the recent loss, there existed a significant chance that the connection between myself and his death would increase, at least in her own mind. That would lead to a festering pit of hate if left unabated. But it was not as though I could simply tell her that I had nothing to do with his death, even though it truly was the mikuya who were to blame. Afterall, decrying a fact often actually cemented that very same fact, regardless of the fact¡¯s veracity. What I needed to do was distract her, or focus her upon something other. Perhaps Larissen. Though that would mean betrayal of another ally, and one arguable more valuable to my continued survival than Kate. Another step, then another. ¡°Regret the decision to join with the humans yet?¡± Larissen asked me under his breath. A good question. While the humans had some supplies, currently we were just shy of walking at knifepoint. It would not have been impossible for Larissen and I to survive without them. But after wandering the wastes in all bleakness for so long, the thought of going back to that near solitude, even if Larissen was there, left me shivering and suffering a deep seated sense of unease. Wishing for distractions for Kate, I discovered one. Not that I brought it up immediately. Behind us, echoing along the canyon walls, there was a faint clicking, like many high tension wires catching along themselves in a storm. I knew that sound. I had come to loathe it. The mikuya. It appeared they had made it past the alchemical smokes. Larissen¡¯s ears perked, a sign that he heard as well. He and I shared silent glances. Despite his age, he deferred to my judgment on informing the humans. Which was unfortunate. Because if he was the one that alerted the humans, then Kate would be more likely to associate him with her uncle¡¯s demise than me. Afterall, he would be one step closer to the concept of the mikuya, at least in the minds of humans'' minds. Even as I thought this, I felt ashamed and I castigated myself. Larissen was an ally. But there were several practical reasons for delaying the alarm. Mainly, that I was already traveling as quickly as I could. And should the humans have time to consider their hasty retreat, things might just go very poorly for myself. Especially if I was unable to keep up. Muleater had been very explicit with her threats. I decided that it would be better to wait, until either we knew what the mikuya planned, or until they came too close for the humans to initiate an orderly retreat. More steps, and with each one, it grew more difficult to take the next. My feet ached. I kept catching my toes on the uneven ground. I kept stumbling. And Gregory continued his campaign to end me. What a petty person that he was. The clicking continued to echo faintly, not loud enough for unenhanced hearing, and not overly increasing in volume. It remained constant, neither approaching nor falling behind. ¡°Tailing us,¡± I said in Kaivan, a breathy whisper through dry and chapped lips. ¡°But why?¡± Larissen asked. But why indeed, I wondered. We continued to discuss why this may be. Perhaps they were herding us. They might be waiting for us to break. They might be leisurely following our trail. In the end, we thought it most likely that they were ensuring we did not escape the way we had come. Though as we had yet to find another side passage, that caution seemed unlikely. Unless they did not know. Too many unknowns. ¡°Speak imperial already!¡± Gregory seethed from behind us. ¡°What are you two hissing about? More treachery? Ways to slow us down further?¡± ¡°Be quiet,¡± Muleater ordered, her voice lacking all patience and sounding somewhat ragged. We continued walking in silence, Muleater lingering further behind. Until she heard it. She must have. She hastened up towards the front. ¡°We¡¯re being followed,¡± she claimed. The volume of the high tension wire-like tendrils had not increased significantly. But it must have been enough. I kept forgetting that the humans potentially had enhanced senses. I absolutely needed to remember that. In this case, it would look bad if¨C ¡°How do you know?¡± Gregory asked, at the same time Kate asked, ¡°How far?¡± Muleater gestured to her ears behind her grime covered hair. ¡°And why did our animals not hear them before now?¡± Gregory asked, with extra derogatory in his inflection. ¡°Do they not have keener senses?¡± ¡°A question that needs answering.¡± Muleater was moving her way towards the front now, towards us. Noticeably, her hand on her hilt, her countenance prepared for combat. Which should have had her facing the opposite direction, not towards us. Why had Gregory had to have opened his mouth? And now Kate was turning her focus onto us; this was having the opposite effect in social manipulation than I had planned. While I considered how to resolve this positively, Larissen mistook my delay as inability, and he answered on our behalf, without my consent. ¡°It is difficult to hear from the front, especially over your racket,¡± Larissen said through his thick accent. That was a good counterpoint. False, of course, but plausible. I wished I had thought of that. My fatigue must have been hampering my rational thought. We needed a rest¨CI really needed a rest. ¡°Hm.¡± Muleater reached the front, besides us. We had momentarily paused in our journey, all of us focused upon her. ¡°I don¡¯t believe you.¡± ¡°What purpose would deceit serve?¡± Larissen asked. ¡°Covering a betrayal.¡± Muleater bit out. ¡°Do you deny our persecution by the wyrkwik alongside you?¡± I asked, picking my way over the questions carefully and using the humans¡¯ term for the mikuya. If I asked her ¡®why would we,¡¯ she would rack her mind for a motivation that would justify our betrayal, further cementing the erroneous notion within her mind. The same would occur if we outright denied it. Rather, I redirected her attention towards the facts. At least one interpretation of them. ¡°We have suffered as well,¡± I said. ¡°Perhaps you don¡¯t value our lives, but we do. Two of our members have been killed.¡± ¡°And many more of ours?¡± She demanded. ¡°However, your circumstances have improved, ours have worsened.¡± ¡°All of our circumstances have worsened,¡± I said. ¡°Unless starvation and worse are boons?¡± ¡°Words.¡± She scoffed, and shouldered past me. ¡°Everyone, doubletime.¡± I was thankful that she refrained from slitting my throat. But despite that gratitude, I could not help but utter, ¡°Now you trust us at your back?¡± unable to resist needling. Another piece of evidence of my deteriorating control. The filter between my mind and mouth was worsening. But there was no way I could keep up with them, not if they increased the pace. What was best case would be getting left forgotten by them. Yet my mouth rebelled, or my mind did. ¡°Trust, no.¡± She barked a quick and mean laugh. Gregory pushed back us, then Kate. Though Kate did spare me a concerned glance as she moved. ¡°Why leave them behind us then?¡± Kate asked. ¡°I see no way for them to betray us now. Not with the wyrkwik approaching from behind. If they are true to their word, then perhaps they can buy us a moment longer to escape.¡± ¡°Then should we not cripple them first?¡± Gregory asked, with a malicious tone. Kate kept silent. And that silence, while not unexpected, stung like the betrayal it was. ¡°No need,¡± Muleater said, after moments of consideration. The humans had pulled away now, despite Larissen and I continuing at the same pace. ¡°The male won¡¯t leave his young behind¨Cthey are already handicapped. And at least this way they can last a bit longer.¡± I thought of calling out to them, for them to leave us at least some rations, but there was no point. ¡°For the best, this one thinks,¡± Larissen consoled me. ¡°Now to find diverging paths to escape the mikuya.¡± Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.5.21 The humans abandoned us. They disappeared quickly into the gloom of the crevasse ahead of us, leaving us in their dust. They had left us behind, because I was too slow. I assumed that Larissen would abandon me as well, eventually. I was overly aware of my own frailty. I found myself focusing heavily on my surroundings. I tried to tell myself I was being useful, that I was worth dragging along. I still had my keen observational skills, afterall. Which we needed. The sides of the narrow crevasse were well textured, with many irregularities that could hide a forking pathway. As I observed, as we moved, albeit at a much slower pace than the humans hurried retreat, we heard the clicking-clacking of the mikuya grew closer. The sound, louder. they approached. An inevitability. There were enough of them that they sounded like a bamboo forest in the wind. There were also no forking paths, at least none that we found in the time we had. One oddity: as the clicking-clacks increased in volume, the sounds caused by the humans began to do so as well. Since Larissen and I had not increased our pace, then either the humans had slowed down significantly, or there was a trick in the acoustics up ahead. Or, or, they were coming back. But if that were the case, then things had gone quite sour. Larissen noticed the same thing at the same time. ¡°Quickly, hide,¡± he demanded. It took me a second to parse what he said, and in that time, he found a recess in the cliff face and pulled me in. We were just off the main path, and in the darkness we were near unseeable. But even so, I doubted the mikuya would miss us¨Cif Illusions failed to work on them, then a hiding spot would fail as well. Besides, I theorized they depended more on scent than anything else. I opened my mouth to ask along those same lines, but Larissen shook his head and hissed for silence. I pursed my lips, or tried to. Instead, my mouth quivered and my ears and tail drooped, but not by a lot. I was still learning about this body, but it seemed to know what I meant to show, at least some times. ¡°What?¡± I breathed. ¡°Shush.¡± I glowered but waited, straining my senses to figure out what he had noticed that was so critical that he could not even take the time to explain it to me. When I realized what it was, my cheeks burned and I huffed. The humans were still getting louder, which meant they were coming back our way. Why were they coming back our way? The mikuya were even closer now than they were before, though it sounded like the humans were closer. Reasons ran through my head. Without asking them, there would be no way to know for sure. There could be mikuya waiting, there could have been a blockage, or they could have just had a change of heart about leaving us. The humans were almost within sight now. We could overhear bits of their conversation. Their tones were grim. ¡°-haven¡¯t seen them yet,¡± Gregory said. ¡°Think they found another way out?¡± Kate asked. ¡°No. Gods take it, we¡¯ve been checking!¡± Muleater swore. ¡°They might have just not made it this far yet?¡± Kate offered. ¡°Probably gave up and ran off to join the thrice-cursed infested then¨C¡± Gregory started. ¡°-you keep mentioning them doing that but I don¡¯t see why they would,¡± Kate defended, leaving me feeling just a little bit better about my investment in her. ¡°But¨C¡± ¡°Quiet,¡± Muleater said firmly. ¡°Ready yourselves. If you have meaningful words, use this time to share them now. Else, prepare.¡± Did Muleater just not say quiet? And now she was asking for meaningful words? This failed to make sense. Unfortunately, neither Gregory nor Kate called her out on the apparent discrepancy. When they were almost to us, Larissen put a hand on my shoulder then covered his eyes, before giving me a meaningful look. Embarrassingly, it took me until the humans were just about in sight for me to figure it out. ¡°Illusion,¡± I mouthed. I covered our recess in thicker shadows, with the same greenish tint as the rest of the basalt we had passed. The Illusion covered as much surface as I could, which was just enough to cover both of us and look natural. Though I was still unsure why we were hiding. I meant to take a step out to snag Kate as she went past, but Larissen held me in place. Soon, the humans had passed. When they had gone far enough to not risk being overheard, I finally asked, ¡°what are they doing?¡± ¡°Is it not obvious?¡± Larissen answered. I supposed that it probably would have been, but my delirium made intelligent thought a bit more difficult. Thankfully, he answered his own question soon after. ¡°The humans will attempt to break through the mikuya.¡± I figured that much out on my own, ¡°but why?¡± They had been escaping, last we saw. Why had they turned around? His tail swished behind him in agitation and he shook his head. ¡°This one does not know,¡± he said. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we find out?¡± I asked, prompting him to rejoin the humans, safety in numbers and all that. Although, if they were to push through the mikuya, they might end up volunteering Larissen and I to go first, fodder for the meat grinder. ¡°Perhaps, but¡­¡± he paused and seemed to be weighing his options, as though whether or not to say something I might disagree with. I waved my stump in his face to help encourage him. He coughed, then finally spat it out. ¡°With the humans throwing the trail off, it is likely that the mikuya will not realize our absence. This is a good thing, this one believes.¡± ¡°But if the humans couldn¡¯t beat the mikuya earlier, then how could they do that now?¡± I asked. ¡°In our tongue,¡± he insisted, for the first time that I speak in Kaivan as opposed to Imperial. I stared blankly at him, uncomprehending the fact that he chose now of all times to make that point. ¡°To answer your question. This one does not believe that the humans can. The humans must have no better choice.¡± ¡°They¡¯re going to die.¡± He growled as I continued to use Imperial, which flowed better in all honesty. But rather than making an issue of it, he nodded. ¡°Yes.¡± Even Kate¡­ and granted, she had somewhat betrayed my trust. But then again, she had also had mitigating circumstances. Trust? I rolled the word around and realized that I was surprised to have actually felt that, and possibly more, for the girl that had violated my basic human rights. Or rights, considering. ¡°But¨C¡± I started to protest. Larissen hissed to silence me. ¡°The humans might survive. But regardless, after a time of waiting, our own travels should be much safer. The mikuya cannot maintain their vigil forever.¡± The plan was pragmatic, ruthless, and¡­ left me feeling ill at ease. But I could in no way, under my own power, help the humans, if even Larissen would allow me to escape him. And Larissen would unlikely help the humans. In fact, I could think of no way to convince him otherwise. And so, perhaps with some shame, I relented to Larissen¡¯s plan. And so we remained in our hiding place and we waited. The sounds of battle could be soon heard. Shouts. The clicks and clacks. A scream. And then silence. It was over far too soon. Not the silence, that lasted far too long. A stray tear escaped my burning eyes, but I ignored it as best I could. Larissen had been correct, this was the best way. And so, Larissen and I waited with our backs to the cliff. If we moved, made sound, or somehow alerted the mikuya to our location, then Kate¡¯s sacrifice would have been in vain. And so we waited. Waited for the mikuya to assume the humans were the last of the party, for the mikuya to let their guard down, and for the opportunity for ourselves to escape. Night fell. What little light there was disappeared, and the gloom became complete darkness. At some point, I drifted off to sleep. I jerked awake the next morning. Dim light filtered through the recesses above us in stone. I had failed to realize it earlier, but the narrow canyon appeared to be a half collapsed cavern, with cracks serving as poor sky-lights. It was still dimly lit, if at all, but my eyes gave me night-vision which seemed to work well enough. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Larissen was guarding us when my eyes landed on him. He had positioned himself between myself and the passageway, partially exposing his body in the process. The way his head continually pivoted from left to right, it was obvious he was on the lookout. That obviousness was compounded by his pointy alert ears, and his ultra-still tail. ¡°A-are we safe?¡± I croaked out. ¡°Our language, Kitten. Now that the humans are gone. This is good practice.¡± I decided to relent, if he would be a stickler about it. If he was willing to make such a hassle about it, even with his low whispering voice, then the mikuya must have been gone. Or at least far enough away to pose little threat. Reformatting my question in my own mind before speaking, I asked, ¡°Are these ones safe?¡± ¡°Perhaps,¡± he shrugged. ¡°The mikuya have made no sound since the sun rose and their scent is no stronger than before. But caution serves the hunter well¡­¡± he trailed off expectantly. From previous conversations in the slave wagon, with him, Issen, and Kissen, I recognized his phrase. I knew what he sought, and I gave it to him, furthering our rapport. ¡°...for the jungles are unforgiving,¡± I said. After another pause, I asked, ¡°When will these ones leave?¡± My throat was parched enough that every word hurt to speak, and I fantasized of waterfalls and steak. I felt hungry enough that I might have even been tempted to try the lichen again. Or a gastropod. ¡°Uncertain,¡± he said. ¡°Perhaps tonight. In the meantime, save your strength. Rest.¡± My stomach rumbled faintly, though loud enough for both him and I to hear. He huffed, but not in amusement. ¡°Hunger is always a formidable foe,¡± he said. I nodded, not that he saw. I tried to rest my eyes, but I found myself fantasizing of feasts; a persistent nagging thought occurred and grew in time, until the thought screamed and blared through my mind. The humans should have left something behind. Their rations, or possibly themselves. My mouth salivated of its own accord. It was certainly a temptation to sneak out to where the humans had fought. That was tempered by fear. And that Larissen would undoubtedly disagree. But he could not have been any less hungry than I, unless he had been holding out. But it was not as though he had a way to smuggle goods past me. Unless he had snuck out while I had slept or rested. Which might be why he wanted me to rest again. At the back of my mind, I vaguely understood that my paranoia was unjustified and likely driven by hunger and thirst. My stomach growled again. ¡°Perhaps these ones could scout the humans?¡± I asked, raising the possibility. Anything to find nourishment. Or refreshment. My throat ached. I imagined it cracking as we spoke. Larissen tsked. ¡°Too dangerous. Must wait.¡± I considered that. I really truly did. But if food was just around the corner¡­ ¡°No,¡± he answered, yet again, before I had even asked once more. Had I been that obvious about it? I refused to beg. It would only make me sound weak. But perhaps an argument? Or¡­ or I could demonstrate just how safely I could perform the reconnaissance. ¡°Illusion,¡± I mouthed, covering myself in a Blurred Camouflage. I began to crawl around Larissen, though his ears tracked me. ¡°This one is not fooled,¡± he said. ¡°It is difficult to sit hungrily, but it is also far safer to wait.¡± ¡°But¨C¡± I started to protest, but was cut off. Not by Larissen though. It was a sound neither of us wanted to hear. A creaking, clicking, clacking. High tension wires criss crossing. A bamboo forest in the wind. The sound came from far too near; I could not determine from which direction either. Glancing at Larissen, I let my Illusion drop. His eyes wide, his ears swiveling from one direction to the next. He turned his attention to me. ¡°From which way?¡± he asked. ¡°Both?¡± I offered up hesitantly. The sounds were neither growing in intensity nor decreasing. They were just there, and far too regular to be natural motion. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Furthered when I saw the way Larissen was looking at me. ¡°It wasn¡¯t my fault,¡± I insisted. He shook his head, almost sadly. ¡°This one is apologetic.¡± I did not like the sound of that. ¡°Why? Wha¡­ why?¡± I asked him what he meant, but I knew. Why would he be apologetic, unless he had been the one to summon the mikuya. Was that why he had us wait? Was that why he had let the humans run off ahead? Suddenly all our previous interactions were reframed with suspicion. ¡°You betrayed me?!¡± I asked, in Imperial, perhaps a touch too loud. Not that it made a difference, the mikuya grew no louder. They hovered just beyond our sightlines, either direction, surrounding us, even from above. ¡°Betray? No! Never,¡± he said. ¡°But our place here is compromised.¡± So, he refused to admit he had brought them here. And I only suspected him because of his apology, but he was not making sense. What was he getting at? ¡°Why the apology then?¡± I asked. His claws were looking just a bit too sharp. His teeth a bit too bared. He was far too focused upon me for my comfort. I took a step or two back, preparing an Illusion just in case. ¡°Do¡­¡± he winced, then started over, ¡°Does Kitten know what the mikuya¡¯s infestation is?¡± he asked. I had ideas, but they largely stemmed around a fungal infection that may or may not be treatable. Definitively parasitic, if the infested animal was still living. I motioned him to go on, still taking another step back. I could not fool myself that I had enough distance from Larissen¨Che could easily clear the space between us in a single lunge, even if I used an Illusion. He could likely hear me sidestep as well. But perhaps not over the Jungleborn¡¯s racket? ¡°Torture.¡± He took a deep breath. ¡°Living torture.¡± Another pause. My right foot found a loose stone and rested just beside it. I tried relaxing every muscle, to be ready for immediate movement. ¡°My sister¡¯s blood will live on, but not with yourself. This one is sorry.¡± In a sick sort of way, it made sense. Given what he knew, it made sense. He would spare me a fate worse than death. He refused to both abandon me and his sister¡¯s blood-spirit. Which meant one of us had to escape, and it certainly would not be me with my debilitation. Hence, his apology. He planned on killing me. Mothersworn idiot. He lunged. ¡°Illusion.¡± A blanket of white illusory flame wrapped around Larissen¡¯s head. I kicked the loose stone to my left, sending it clattering against a wall. I dove to the right. Larissen passed through where I had just been. ¡°This is only making it hurt more!¡± he insisted. I considered taking the attack to him, but at that moment, I just wanted to escape. I tumbled away from him, keeping the Illusion up, for just a little while longer, and I stumbled back up the path, towards the way from which we had originally come, towards where the humans had made their final stand. ¡°Wait!¡± he called, voice rising now. Needless to say, no waiting was done. I kept moving. The creaking of the mikuya was approaching quickly. I did not care. Better my chance with them, with their dubious motivations, than certain death with Larissen. His feet pounded after me, less graceful than normal. He made no additional sounds, no yowling, no shouting, just chasing. He was running blind. My Illusion still covered his vision. He could not travel on all fours, instead using his arms to keep him from crashing into anything. Despite my infirmities, I kept even pace with him. But my Illusion would soon expire. I had maybe another half a minute. And once it dropped, he would have no problem catching up with me. Could I reach the mikuya at that time? Eventually, we would reach a point where he would follow no further. He would not risk antagonizing them, surely. I was unable to get enough of a lead to remain confident in my escape. I hated the thought of throwing myself on the mercy of the mikuya, them and their ambiguous unknown motivations. But against the threat of certain death? I would try. And besides, it would hardly be the first time they had saved me. They had done so once before, before I had stumbled upon the caravan. To ensure they found me first, or perhaps, scare Larissen away, I called out, almost a wheeze. ¡°H-help!¡± But I remembered, the mikuya communicated with scents, or pheromones. Would they detect me in time? I had to try, just in case. I focused on the stress, and tried to convey that emotion in the same way that I had noticed the mikuya communicating. ¡°What?!¡± Larissen called, slowing down. ¡°Help!¡± I called out again, this time louder. The gap between me and him was now growing. ¡°Foolish cub!¡± he scolded. But he had stopped chasing. Eschiver (2/9) (+1) Evasion (6/9) (+1) The distance between us grew. My Illusion expired. I risked a glance behind, before he disappeared into the gloom. He appeared disappointed with me, sorrowful even. But he had stopped chasing. Which meant I could stop. I could attempt to find a third way, with neither mikuya nor Larissen. I came around one final turn and did come to a stop. Of course, I also ran head first into an infested meohr. I rebounded, cried in pain as my side was jarred. I fell backwards before a heavy hand caught me by my good side and stabilized me. I peered around the meohr, and saw what seemed to be a legion of mikuya crawling down the canyon walls and filling the space behind it. The ones at the bottom were pressing together, with the meohr acting as a dam, a boulder blocking a stream. But all of them, they all left space ten feet behind the meohr, and pushed away from a single creature. This creature was not infested. Not a medley of fur and invasive tendrils. No, it was something else. Standing upright on two legs and a tail. Its height towered over the meohr. This creature was translucent, almost gellike, with vine and tendril scaffolding forming a visible scaffolding or skeletal structure. It stood near three meters in height, almost humanoid, but with a head more reminiscent of a tulip than a person¡¯s. Its arms were planted on each wall of the canyon, with an unnaturally broad wingspan. The meohr stepped aside and gently nudged me around it, so that I was facing the creature directly. Blessings: Rank (1/9) Talents: Spells: Gifts: Ingestion 1.5.X ¡°Quiet,¡± Muleater said firmly. ¡°Ready yourselves,¡± she added. ¡°If you have meaningful words, use this time to share them now. Else, prepare.¡± Aunt Janet¡¯s meanings were clear. She did not expect them to survive. The odds were stacked against them. Their only previous hope had been to escape the crevasse uncontested¨Cbut the way had been blocked by a recent landslide. From the scorch marks along the stone walls, it was easy to make assumptions about what caused that landslide. Kate would have an accounting sooner or later, but it would happen. ¡°Surely things are not so dire?¡± Gregory asked in a low voice. ¡°Think so?¡± Aunt Janet scoffed, barely paying any attention to the boy. Janet was focused forwards, to their imminent demise. Which Kate would normally protest. No jungle parasite would get the best of her, no matter how dire. But, Kate knew that now was not the time for a retort. Besides, a fight was coming. Kate found herself grinning. And was it wrong that she was a little turned on? No. That was only natural. But still, she wished she had seen that fascinating kunbeorn once more, that soft and silky fur, those cyan eyes¡­ ¡°Ready now!¡± Aunt Janet called. All that was left was Aunt Janet, Gregory, and Kate. And of those three, Gregory would be worthless in a fight. If only he had fallen instead of Uncle Ken. Whatever. At least her uncle had died in glory, though those ways were anachronistic. If she survived, she would brag about it to her friends, for sure. Not everyone could say they died with their eyes open, demanding honor, demanding bloody glory. Their ancestors would likely be impressed, or at least accept the act as the bare minimum. It was hard to say. Kate had never met them. Kate began rushing forward, following Janet¡¯s lead. They drew their swords, both Kate and Aunt Janet had managed to salvage one each, though the swords were a far cry from their main hands. As they rushed forward, Kate could have sworn that she saw a darker shadow along the wall, and she could have sworn that she smelled that off-cinnamon scent that she had come to associate with the fascinating kunbeorn. But then they were past that point. The shadow and scent were long gone. Only a fight for survival remained. A mad laugh escaped Kate¡¯s lips. And the clicking, clacking¨Cthe infested¨Cthe gods serving wyrkwik¨Cthe living jungle¨Cthe animated plants¨Cthe scourge¨Cwas ahead¨CAunt Janet was in the lead. ¡°On me!¡± Janet shouted. ¡°Kate to the rear!¡± ¡°What abou¨C¡± Gregory started to ask, but was pushed forward as Kate tried to keep him from fouling her footing. ¡°Contact!¡± Janet shouted. Her sword clashed with infested flesh. The cramped and narrowed walls made it difficult to see, but in the gloom, Kate saw bits. There was an infested meohr shouldered to the side by the much smaller woman. There were tons of small dog humanoids, hundeors, infested and dogpiling on each other to get at Aunt Janet. Further back, there were cats and marmots and all manner of corrupted infested flesh. Gregory recoiled from the sight, causing Kate to run forward into his back. They almost tripped and fell before Kate caught herself on the wall. ¡°Move!¡± Kate snarled at him. ¡°There are so many¡­¡± Gregory said. Kate grunted and pushed past him, following in Janet¡¯s wake, hacking with her sword as quickly as possible. This was not a dance. This fight had no grace. It was hacking and slashing and stepping forward. If not for her battlesense, Kate would have fallen to flanking enemies, to backstabbing honorless curs. ¡°Stay behind if you want!¡± Kate called back to Gregory. Already, the path Aunt Janet had carved was beginning to seal. Gregory seemed to steel himself before pushing forward, though cringing the entire time, and hopping over severed tendrils that still writhed across the ground. Kate ignored him otherwise, focused instead on the fight, feeling the blood pumping through her limbs and the warmth in her thighs. She almost wished it could last forever. But in reality, she knew that eventually she would tire. ¡°How much further?!¡± Kate shouted, asking her aunt who was ahead and battling a triplet of large cats. Kate¡¯s battle sense failed to extend far enough to see the edge of the mess, which meant there were at least twenty feet left to go. She was hoping that her aunt had a visual from the position up ahead. ¡°Not much!¡± Aunt Janet shouted back. Whether or not Aunt Janet could actually see the end of the infested, Kate had no clue. Kate continued focusing on the present, reveling. As they continued slashing forward, Gregory had picked up the pace and was following almost too closely behind Kate. She had to threaten him with a backswing once to ensure he kept at least a yard between them. After that, he seemed to get the point. She needed space to fight effectively. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. While they fought, the wyrkwik¡¯s clicking tendrils began to sound almost organized. It happened over time. Beginning at the far end of the crevasse, from where they had been fighting out of, and stretched towards where they were currently fighting. It was bizarre. It was organized. It meant things that Kate despised thinking about, especially while she was otherwise preoccupied with a good time. ¡°Something¡¯s coming!¡± Kate shouted, letting her aunt worry about it instead. Aunt Janet turned her head a fraction to look back at Kate, and then back at the mess of creatures that were moving in synchronization. Aunt Janet¡¯s eyes widened marginally. ¡°Take the lead!¡± Aunt Janet commanded Kate, brooking no room for discussion. Kate nodded, turning sideways and slipping past Aunt Janet, before parrying a swipe from an infested meohr and side stepping with a slash. Gregory fumbled over the meohr¡¯s bent leg, and Kate barely reached his shoulder to steady him, before he fell into the mess of grabbing tendrils and lesser creatures. ¡°C¡¯mon!¡± Kate scolded, before turning her attention back towards carving their way forward. She thought she could see the end, at least where the wyrkwik were thinning out. ¡°We¡¯re almost there!¡± she called back, to keep her aunt¡¯s spirits up. ¡°Keep¨Cgoing¨C!¡± Janet called back¡­ except, her voice was further back than Kate thought it should have been. Kate kicked a marmot back to make some space and pivoted, turning to see where she was. Kate¡¯s blood froze in her veins. Janet was struggling against a wall of tendrils from a mass of infested. It was not just a single creature, or a series of single creatures, but a mass of them, working in unison. Tendrils were darting forward and flanking, and each time Janet backstepped, the mass gained on her. The creatures between Kate and Janet were reconstituting themselves, while the smaller ones that Kate had ignored were already rushing back towards Janet. ¡°Janet!¡± Kate screamed, fearful for likely the first time. ¡°Get outta here!¡± Janet shouted back. Of course, Kate refused. Leaving Gregory to deal with himself on his own, Kate pushed back towards Janet, stomping on wyrkwik and propelling herself forward, towards Janet. ¡°I said leave!¡± Janet shouted as Kate landed to help. Kate sliced down one tendril, while another came low and wrapped around Aunt Janet¡¯s ankle. Janet sliced low fast, before she lost her balance, but another tendril got her wrist. Somehow, Janet kept between the mass and Kate, though Kate did help. It was just, for every tendril they cut, two more would shoot forward. And the mass was tall, at least twelve feet, towering over them, filling from cliff to cliff. ¡°Get back!¡± Janet shouted, before leaning forward and mule kicking Kate. Janet must have used one of her Marks, because Kate found herself flying through the air, backwards, and slamming into Gregory, before they rolled to a stop. ¡°Go!¡± Janet shouted. Kate got up and prepared to rush back in, screaming in rage. But Janet, when she had bent forward to muster up her mulekick, she had left herself open. The mass of green and infested flesh was pulling Janet into it. ¡°Ru¨C¡± Janet¡¯s voice trailed off. Kate stiffened, working her jaw, all battle-lust forgotten. ¡°Aunt¡­ Aunt Janet¡­¡± Kate said slowly, not fully comprehending. Gregory tugged at Kate¡¯s shoulder. ¡°We need to move!¡± he pleaded. Kate shrugged him off, ready to take vengeance against the wyrkwik, ready to charge headfirst into the melee and retrieve her aunt. But Gregory refused to let go. ¡°Would your aunt want you dead too?¡± he asked. Kate wanted to protest. She really wanted to. But the wyrkwik were still coming. And there were still plenty between her and the exit that she could take her rage out on. The wyrkwik would pay, now some, and more later. But they would pay. Kate and Gregory traveled for hours. They truly had nearly been out of the mess with the wyrkwik by the time that Aunt Janet had been lost. They had reached the opening where the female kun had been slayed, and where Charson had used his abominable alchemy on Kate to leave her temporarily a maddened beast, where Kate had severed the lilac kunbeorn¡¯s arm. That arm was nowhere in sight as they passed. Kate had trouble remembering exactly what had happened to it, or where it landed. But when she failed to spot it, she figured one of the cats, or scavengers, or even the wyrkwik had found it. Once they reached the larger gorge though, they had to choose a direction. They could travel back towards the highway, backtracking for days, without supplies. They could attempt scaling the cliff walls. Or, they could attempt to break out from the southern ramp, where they had already previously attempted to escape. Gregory wanted to return to the highway and hope for salvation. Kate doubted any travelers would come by before they died of thirst. Especially once the first few caravans went missing. The guild was hardly stupid. Greedy, not dumb. So instead, she started walking towards the ramp. Gregory caught up eventually. As they climbed the ramp, they kept their eyes open for wyrkwik, not that they could have done much, except gone down swinging. But when they came to the top, they heard talking, tin scraping, pounding, humans. They heard humans. Kate wondered if it was bandits at first, so naturally she drew her sword. However, when they crested the hill, exiting the gorge, they found an encampment in the Crown¡¯s colors. ¡°We¡¯re¡­ we¡¯re saved¡­¡± Gregory said in his cracking voice. But why were they here? Kate could not help but wonder. A shadow dropped from the sky and landed before them. It was a winged human, an inquisitor, a deviant. He kept a hand on a weapon, but he appeared at ease, confident even. ¡°In¨Cinquisitor?¡± Kate asked. Gregory fell to his knees. ¡°Wyrkwik,¡± he explained, his words beginning to jumble. ¡°There was a godsmarked kunny, and infested, and they ambushed our caravan and¨C¡± Kate¡¯s nostrils flared. ¡°We don¡¯t know that she¡¯s godsmarked,¡± she protested. ¡°What else would it be¨Cwho would mark a¨C¡± Gregory started to counter, when the inquisitor raised a hand to stop their bickering. It was then that Kate noticed the approaching soldiers, running from the camp, ready for combat. They wore Princess Marissa¡¯s heraldry, and they did not appear as friendly as Kate would have liked. Were they about to fight? Kate refused to even consider the premise. Combatting the Crown¡¯s forces was akin to an unfathomable sin. It was impossible. Kate released the grip on her sword, instead elbowing Gregory to ensure he remained silent. And finally, the deviant with the wings, the inquisitor, he spoke. ¡°You will tell me everything,¡± he said. Ingestion 1.6.1 The creature spoke, not through words, but with a complicated medley of pheromones and something other. Had I not already previously been exposed to such communications while my ¡®Blessings¡¯ had been active and growing, particularly my Mind stat, I very likely would have failed to understand any of it. I shuddered to think how relations would have gone, should I have been unable to communicate with the mikuya¡­ queen? Said the creature. I stood trembling and gaping like a fool. I would have liked to blame my fatigue, my weakness, but that was not all the case. This creature was fundamentally different. No gender could describe them, but they reminded me of a hive queen. The remainder of the mikuya acted as subservient drones to the creature¡¯s will. I castigated myself for getting hung up on the creature¡¯s gender. It was just, nothing I had met or seen previously compared. Even their language, if language it could be called, came across alien and foreign, lacking grammar and syntax, and instead composed of smells and position. It was simply too much. And hence, my position. Trembling. Uncertain. Afraid. For example, they did not say ¡®in safety,¡¯ so much as broadcast an idea of it while simultaneously laying each of those other ideas, one atop each other. It was elegant. It was efficient. And it should have been impossible for me to parse. Most minds were ill adapted to carrying multiple conversations at once in parallel. I caught myself marveling at my own ability, and reigned back the ego. ¡°Why?¡± I asked simply. There were many other questions I might have asked, and I might have clarified the first question further. But this way, I could discover more about my ¡®savior¡¯ with less risk of alienation. Unfortunately, my decision to take a careful, measured approach, failed. It was due to my own failing body. At that moment my traitorous legs chose to give out. The weeks worth of exhaustion catching up. The creature, they, I decided, caught me with a gelatinous and warm surface. I never hit the rocky ichor covered ground. There was no room for negotiation there. They were already wrapping me in their tentacle-like arms. They felt like the softest warmest tempurpedic. And through the clear gelatinous material, I could see coiling tendrils, animating their flesh. As they carried me, without any outward signal being given, the other, lesser, mikuya parted to make way. The warmth and steady jostle poured through me, diffusing through my skin, in perhaps more than a metaphorical manner. I drifted off, resting my eyes. At some point, we must have left the canyon-gorge system, because when I next drifted to, we were back up on the windswept ridgelines overlooking the shattered wastes. Along the ground, there was a great abundance of lichen and gastropods. I saw no birds, nor marmots, but then considering the company I was currently in, that did not surprise me. They were still holding me. Their giant size and pillow-soft flesh left me feeling like I floated on clouds. ¡°Yes.¡± I answered. I relied on Imperial, and attempted to also use the scent markers, but I found it very, very difficult. I might have been able to pass along crude messages with scent, but they would be slow and ungainly, more akin to smoke signals than actual conversation. There were other nuances passed along that message, but they all boiled down to that. Could they sense my confusion? I wondered. I had to assume so. But if they gave me open reign to bother them with questions, then who was I to refuse? ¡°How many of you are there?¡± I asked. I glanced and saw one of the guards from the caravan had been infested, and currently flanked just behind the creature. Other than him, and a few hundeor, but otherwise, most of the invested creatures appeared lower on the food-chain. Like those marmots that were missing from the surroundings. That did not narrow my question down. Perhaps my confusion came through. Unintentional communications would be a problem until I learned to control that exactly. ¡°You and the other mikuya then?¡± They might have recoiled, though their physical behavior did not change. It was a shift in bitterness, carried by their scent. ¡°Sorry.¡± They seemed to accept it. Afterall, how was I to have known? I doubted many mikuya apologists existed among either the Kaiva or the humans. Though, that begged the question of what term I should use to refer to them. As I thought, they continued their explanation, not that their explanation clarified much. With their other limb, they waved at themselves, the creature. I realized then that they were referring to themselves as a plurality. A wash of emotions, a mixture of them, swept through me. At once, I felt sorry for the creature, as they were by some definitions alone in a hostile territory. I could emphasize there. But on the other hand, misery loves company, and if they were truly alone, then my own bargaining power was increased. ¡°You¡¯re by yourself?¡± I asked, trying to keep any sense of pleasure off my mind, lest the creature detect it and misconstrue my intentions. Instead, I kept a firm picture in mind of how alone I had been, with only the wind and hunger to keep company. Both of those answers were sent in parallel, leaving me thinking that I must have made some mistake, or perhaps they did not wish to reveal a potential weakness. I realized then, and not for the sole time, that communicating with a hivemind would be tediously ambiguous. ¡°You helped me earlier,¡± I said instead, changing the subject to something immediately more useful. ¡°Did you have my satchel?¡± Because there had been several supplies, at least if my feverish memory had not betrayed me. ¡°But why?¡± This was a solid tactic to leave a person coming up with reasons to aid, which helped shift their mindset, if only by a minute amount. All their ideas clamored over each other, muddling together, becoming difficult to separate. They had an earnestness about them, though that did not mean that no deception was forthright. But to throw all those ideas out at once, so genuinely, as though the idea of not answering had ever occurred, did help me evaluate them. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. I would be a fool to trust though. Not so easily. I needed to know them, which meant exploring their behaviors, how they responded when prompted. ¡°Why attack the caravan then?¡± I asked. Another jumble, even messier than before. ¡°You attacked them to free me then?¡± I asked, not entirely believing them, but lacking context to claim otherwise. A mark in favor of genuine behaviors, and a mark against them attacking to free me. But what other reason could there have been? I decided to ask further. I was already at their mercy, but if I got them to the point that they were justifying my existence by answering certain questions, then I would only improve my own chances of survival. For, I feared they were merely humoring my existence. ¡°You need an ally, why?¡± I asked. To my dismay, they did not answer for a while, instead continuing to walk. Asking that question could backfire, if they suddenly realized that they actually had no need of me. I might have misread the situation, though I hoped not. I went further out on a limb. ¡°You are far from home,¡± I said without prevarication. I belatedly realized that I may have seemed presumptuous, especially given my lack of power in this current situation. So I hastily appended, ¡°At least, if I understood the humans correctly.¡± The creature did not respond immediately to this, either. Now, I was worrying. But I steeled myself. I forced myself to think tactically. Either my demise would occur shortly, or not, regardless of what I said. I may as well push for an advantage then. ¡°They¡¯re connected then. Your need for an ally, and the distance from your home, and perhaps, it has something to do with the humans.¡± I was guessing, but by pretending to know more than I did, I thought I could bluff my way into more of an explanation. Unfortunately, my body betrayed me. Or they knew me better than I thought. I smelled amusement wafting up from their flesh. They sent. A little later, seemingly musing, they added, ¡°You¡¯re inviting me over to dinner?¡± Left unsaid, was that I hoped that they were not planning on having me for dinner. I decided to attempt a joke, to begin gathering a baseline for their sense of humor. ¡°Though generally people jump through fewer hoops when asking for a date.¡± It appeared that their sense of humor worked at least. And that they probably were not planning on eating me. I took that as a minor success. We traveled the rest of that day and night, and by the next morning we arrived at a bowl-like valley, what could almost be called a crater. The stone was covered in cultivated lichen, and several places even had greenery, where soil or other matter had been drawn. Organic weathervanes stood sentinel over each place where plantlife grew, which must have been catching the moisture to grow the plants in the first place, similar to the bandit camp and their water barrel. The crater was large enough that an entire town could live on the floor of it, with space left for agriculture. Not that they appeared to have built much up, besides the crops and a few subterranean access points. While the greenery might not have been much, and while the air was just as arid as anywhere else, after so long traveling in the gorges and crevasses, the slight bit of greenery before me was akin to heaven. They continued carrying down the slopes of the valley edge, into the crater. Meanwhile, I began collecting information once more. ¡°From what I understand, your people are native to the south of some sort of chasm?¡± ¡°How did you cross then?¡± The bridge that Sir Kate¡¯s family had been in charge of guarding then. I pushed further. ¡°I could not imagine that the humans would welcome you across their borders though.¡± They had bribed an official or smuggler then. ¡°That must have been a lot of effort, on top of the hardship of coming and living in these wastes. It begs the question,¡± I licked my lips, a little nervous to ask this, but unable to stop my curiosity from demanding it. ¡°Why?¡± So their reasoning for being here involved others of their species. Interesting. And exploitable. Before I could ask further, we arrived at a flat stone where they had set a cup and a plate out. There was no chair, but the ¡®table¡¯ came up to about my own chest¡¯s height. ¡°I would do a lot for them,¡± I said, ignoring the fact that I had little clue as to who my family really was, except for an overbearing, awful, abusive¨C I watched the food on the plate. It was a cut of meat, uncooked and raw, still bleeding as though freshly sheared, and with tufts of gristle along the exterior. The cup was filled with water. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. I sipped the water, soothing my parched and desiccated skin. ¡°No¡­¡± I said, not wanting to insult their hospitality, and I truly was hungry. But what would they think if I dived in on what many would consider crude fare? And I questioned myself: why was I able to eat such? I certainly would not have been able to, had I still remained a human.The infested human made a motion. And the creature wobbled back and forth. It must have been my scent, then, that betrayed my deeper thoughts. But still, I hesitated. Sure, I was hungry. And there was a precedent for eating raw meat. ¡°When I didn¡¯t have a choice¡­¡± I said hesitantly. My stomach rumbled. I really should avoid offending my host. A lot of that I did not understand. One question had bothered me, and as I glanced at the infested guardsman, that question turned into a queasy sensation that left me unwilling to eat the raw meat from an unknown and suspect source. It was one that had occurred to me earlier, but I had been unwilling to broach it. Yet, now¡­ I needed to know. ¡°Is that meat¡­ from a human?¡± I asked. ¡°A kaiva?¡± I winced. A wave of relief went through me. Larissen¡¯s fate was unknown, and while he had attempted a non-consensual mercy kill, I wished him no harm. He had thought he was doing me a favor after all. Despite my protests. I might have wished him some harm, but certainly not death. ¡°m¡­uu¡­ule¡± A nearby infested guardsmen croaked. It was the same one that had laid down the dish. It appeared to be attempting to communicate. The hive-queen radiated frustration. They then sent the scent of a meohr that had been pulling the caravan. Oh. I realized it was meohr. It was like a steak then, except from a more humanoid cow. I supposed that was understandable. But before I surrendered myself to my base hunger, I needed to confirm Kate¡¯s fate. I just lacked a way to ask about her, as I could not fabricate her scent, nor could I find a way to describe her in a way that I knew the creatures would understand. So instead, I asked generally, ¡°What happened to the humans in the canyon?¡± When the creature had been carrying me, I failed to notice any bodies as we left the canyon. Though that did not mean much. The creatures could have easily relocated them at any point in time before I was carried past. Yet, I held out hope. And I hated myself for even caring about the humans¡¯ fate. I released tension, my shoulders sagged, my side hurt. ¡°Why though?¡± I asked. Not that I was ungrateful, but it would help understand these alien creatures better. I was not expecting such a plain answer, and was subtly surprised. Their version of study carried connotations of violence, and I got the feeling it would be more of a vivisection. Perhaps my relief was short lived. I shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be a captive, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking. And I still have plenty of questions.¡± I was taken to see the prisoners. I felt there was some miscommunication in play, or I was also a prisoner, which I might very well be. But before I left, I grabbed the steak. I was hungry, afterall. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (1/9)
      • Featherlight (5/9)
  • Stealth I (4/9)
    • Trackless Tracks (8/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (2/9) (+1)
    • Evasion (6/9) (+1)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (6/9)
  • Closed
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.2 I followed the infested guardsmen through the valley. He navigated around pits, condensers, terraced farms. As he led me, I thought about determining if he was a he, or if he was a they. It was confusing, but I was unsure if the infested were truly a hivemind (which I suspected they were), and what I should even call them as. In the end, I decided to figure it out later, and I nibbled on the steak that the creature had provided. Soon, we arrived at a particular pit with vertical walls about twenty feet deep. He stopped and gestured downward. I frowned, wondering exactly what he wanted of me. I stepped up to the side and glanced down. There were no tunnels or stairs or ladders leading down. It was deep enough to entrap. At the bottom of the pit, there laid vegetation, sawn off branches, and some debris that had been stacked against the wall in a poor attempt at a lean-to. One side of the pit, almost a corner, had turned rank, with a puddle. It stank of waste, and of human. I heard one down there, mumbling. In the lean-to. The guardsmen gestured towards me to go down there, giving me an expectant look. We were at an impasse. After a moment, he hacked and coughed and then spoke in a broken, stilted, monotone and off-cadence voice. ¡°Down. Climb.¡± I raised an eyebrow. ¡°How?¡± I was missing an arm, weakened, and in poor health generally. Besides that, I had thought I was more of a guest and less of a prisoner. That pit was rank, and definitely gave jailhouse vibes. ¡°Climb.¡± ¡°Again, how?¡± I asked, hoping that without a means to go down there, that I would be spared the gross fate. ¡°-cli-mb.¡± I motioned at my missing left arm and scoffed. ¡°I can¡¯t!¡± I argued. The smell was wafting up from the pit and it did not entice me towards cooperation. ¡°Don¡¯t you have somewhere¨C¡± ¡°-wa-it.¡± The infested guardsman cut me off, though he said no more, nor did he move from his position. It was evidence towards some manner of hivemind, or at the very least telepathic communication. Before anything else happened, a familiar voice shouted up from below. It was feminine, and while rougher than I remembered, I still recognized it. ¡°What do you godlovin curs want now?¡± Lieutenant Muleater shouted up from the lean-to, where she stumbled out. I hesitated. I had hoped they had survived, though I had been too afraid to ask earlier. But now, how did I feel about them? ¡°Well?! What do you¨C¡± She grimaced as her eyes adapted to the light, and she froze when she saw us. ¡°A kunny, here? Not infested?¡± She mumbled, before calling out, ¡°Name yourself!¡± ¡°Lieutenant Muleater?¡± I asked. ¡°This is a surprise.¡± ¡°You? Come to rub it in, huh?¡± ¡°No¨C¡± I cut myself off. How would I play this? There was a good chance we would be bunk-mates, and it would be best for me to avoid getting murdered in my sleep. ¡°No, of course not. Why would you think that?¡± ¡°Then why else?¡± she sneered. I groaned, ¡°They caught me, and now they¡¯re sending me down there.¡± ¡°Then why aren¡¯t they shovin¡¯ you down in?¡± ¡°Is that what happened to you?¡± She scowled. She had several makeshift bandages and a split on a leg. ¡°What happened to Kate?¡± I asked. ¡°Like I¡¯m gonna tell you.¡± ¡°Is she¡­¡± I licked my lips, hesitant to ask, but still needing to know. ¡°Did¡­ did she make it?¡± Muleater glared and remained far too mulish. Several infested creatures approached, carrying a rope ladder between them. It seemed to be made of vines and slats of wood, and not at all secure. The guardsman took it and secured it at the top of the pit, before rolling it down and gesturing for me to climb down it. Muleater eyed the ladder hungrily, but the clicking-clacking of the infested marching around the top of the pit must have made her see reason. Escape, at least under the current circumstances, was impossible. ¡°Climb. Down. Now.¡± the infested guardsman said in his broken voice. It sounded as though he chewed upon gravel, but the longer I listened to it, the easier it was to piece together his intent. ¡°Come for you, later.¡± I eyed the ladder skeptically, and shuddered at the disheveled state of Muleater. ¡°For love of the Crown!¡± Muleater snapped. It¡¯s not like I¡¯ll bite,¡± Muleater grumbled. ¡°They took my knife, and I¡¯m not about to use my teeth. Just get down here ¡®fore they do some damage.¡± As she said that, I was picking up some odd scents from the infested. Compared to the directions that the guard had given, the scent felt as though it were at an orthogonal angle to the words. If I were to just rely on the infested¡¯s tone and manners, I would assume the directions stern, unyielding, impatient. But from the scent, the tone was amused and slightly apologetic, with just a dash of reaffirmation. If not for the scents, I would have been far more worried about heading down into the pit. It could have been a ploy, of course. But why would they bother with that? There was no practical reason. So, after much internal deliberation, after much hesitancy, I carefully and awkwardly and slowly climbed down the ladder, using my single arm and legs to give myself a more controlled fall. Once I reached the bottom, the ladder was quickly retrieved from the top, leaving me trapped in the pit with a sweaty, grimy, bruised looking Muleater. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Once the infested turned their attention away from the pit, not a few seconds later, Muleater was on me. She hit me like lightning, slamming my back against the wall and lifting me up so that my feet dangled, though my tail could still reach the ground, not that it provided me much leverage. Her forearm pushed against my throat, her other hand held my sole wrist, her knee pushed my hips and kept my feet from curling upwards to catch her with my hind claws. Her nose loomed over me, her chin at my eye level, though she still managed to stare me directly in the eye somehow. It must have been a Mark. While it hurt, I was not overly worried. Afterall, I could quickly fire off a tangible illusion to end her. Or at least distract her. I wondered how quickly she could break my windpipe? Perhaps some worry was warranted. Notably, none of the infested intervened, though I could smell their alertness. Muleater likely thought she could act at her own discretion, especially since she seemed unable to pick up on their subtler tells from the infested. ¡°Why are you here?¡± Muleater demanded, emphasizing each and every word, spittle landing on my forehead. I flicked my ears back. My fur would need a cleansing after this. Why had they put me down here with this mad-woman? Surely they had other pits to stuff me. Why did I have to be in a pit at all? Would the infested intervene if Muleater grew too hostile? But why would she attack me? Afterall, she lacked an incentive to kill me needlessly, and it was not as though I could overpower her. Likely she was hoping intimidation would shake something loose¨Cshe might also have been suffering from undue stress. I decided to humor her, at least partially. ¡°I¨CI¡¯m not sure.¡± I said, with some additional meekness and fear leaking through. ¡°They brought me¨Cthen forced me down here. W¨Cwhy?¡± ¡°Where¡¯s your friend?¡± She demanded, referring to Larissen. ¡°Not my friend,¡± I snarled, more by reaction than intent. Though the words were true, they brought a wave of pain. A questioning look from Muleater prompted more from me. ¡°He¨C¡± I paused, licking my lips, and hoping to avoid sounding too foolish. ¡°-betrayed me. Again.¡± Her eyes narrowed, suspicion warred on her face. Did she not believe me? If I were her, I might not. ¡°Strange. But fitting. How¡¯d these parasites catch you then?¡± she spoke with venom. ¡°Woulda thought you of all of us could sneak away.¡± She must have been alluding to something else. I would play this carefully. Vehement denial would fail to provide the intended effect of proving my innocence. ¡°Why¡­ why do you think that? They were waiting for me when I escaped him¡­¡± I said with downcast eyes, careful to avoid direct deceit. She scoffed and let me slide down to my feet. She backed off by a few feet, but still managed to loom over me. Maybe not as aggressively anymore, but she left the option of violence on the table. ¡°Then keep your secrets,¡± she scowled. This confused me, but before I could ask further, she turned her back on me, though I got the impression she was still keeping me in her peripheral vision. I also got the feeling this was a test of sorts. I would not be foolish enough to attack her. She strode to the far side of the pit and leaned against the wall. I noticed that she was at the furthest possible point from the designated waste corner. She took a moment to regard me. ¡°Well? They threw you in for some reason. Doubt they couldn¡¯t have dug another hole for you.¡± I thought the same. I nodded. But she thought I had the answers? ¡°Are you¡­ are you asking me?¡± I asked. ¡°Sure as the sky is gray I¡¯m not asking them,¡± she nodded up towards the top of the pit. ¡°It doesn¡¯t make sense to me either,¡± I answered. ¡°It also doesn¡¯t make sense that either of us took us captive. Or that they were north of the bridge. This land isn¡¯t good for the wyrkwik. None of this makes any godslovin sense!¡± I doubted that the infested would appreciate the term wyrkwik any more than mikuya, but it emphasized the need to determine their appropriate moniker. But then again, did they deserve that respect? They had sent me down into this pit for no foreseeable reason. ¡°Their actions are¡­ strange.¡± I admitted. ¡°Hm.¡± After another long, long pause, she asked, ¡°You need medical attention? You look worse than the dogs coming out from the pit fights.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Not like you could provide any aid,¡± I said. ¡°But yeah, my arm¡­¡± I waved the stump at her. She chuckled somewhat darkly. Gallows humor, I supposed. ¡°You could help my ease of mind though and tell me what happened with Kate. Is she still alive?¡± I asked. I still was unsure why I cared so much about her. She had severed my arm, she had taken me captive, practically enslaved me. So why did I care anything for her? It was dumb. Muleater paused, stroking her chin. ¡°I could answer that,¡± she said. ¡°But how do I know you aren¡¯t a spy for ¡®em?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± I said plainly. ¡°Heh, but even if not, they could be listening.¡± ¡°What would it matter?¡± I was all for operational security, but this case did not seem reasonable. EIther they would know they had killed her or not. The only one that lacked this knowledge was me. ¡°Well¡­ you never know, yeah?¡± she said. ¡°We could whisper under there¨C¡± I pointed at her lean-to. ¡°They would be hard-pressed to listen in.¡± ¡°We could. But that still leaves the first problem. How do I know you¡¯re not gonna to run and tell them everything?¡± I gave her a perhaps bewildered look. ¡°How¨Cthat makes no sense. Why would I? I¡¯m not a spy.¡± Even though I would sell her secrets if it got me out of here. ¡°Prove it.¡± I rolled my eyes. ¡°Alright, how.¡± ¡°Show me what your Godsmark does.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a Godsmark,¡± I said, perhaps with a touch too much vehemence. She smirked. I groaned, ¡°It¡¯s not.¡± And that point I needed to sell with certainty, because from what I understood, the humans hated anything having anything to do with the gods. ¡°Uh-huh,¡± she said, still smirking. ¡°Not helping the trust bit.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not one,¡± I still firmly denied. ¡°Alright,¡± she shrugged. ¡°Let¡¯s say I¡¯m willing to believe that. Still, what¡¯s it do? Your Marks.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s say we¡¯ll be in a better tactical position if I know what we¡¯re capable of.¡± And potentially give up my own advantages in the process? I thought. But rather than immediately deny it, I simply said, ¡°I¡¯ll think about it.¡± Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (1/9)
      • Featherlight (5/9)
  • Stealth I (4/9)
    • Trackless Tracks (8/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (2/9) (+1)
    • Evasion (6/9) (+1)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (6/9)
  • Closed
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.3 Naturally, I refused to share my secrets. I would be mothersworn if I revealed my trump card, my Illusions, or anything else that I had yet to share. But then again, I could not just remain silent, at least not while expecting cordial, non-violent, relations. An added difficulty was that Muleater could potentially detect falsehoods. Truly, my options were limited. Likely, I needed to give her something. But, did that mean I needed to give it for free? Why should I share, when she has not? She had abilities, she had marks of her own. An unequal trade of information, that was what she offered. And I was no fool. I had a path forward. Naturally, she refused. But an impasse was still preferable to revealing my hand. Evening soon came, and with it, the infested returned, tossing gourds and cuts of raw meat down to the floor. Fortunately, they threw towards the center of the pit, and away from the corner Muleater used to relieve herself. Before the infested had a chance to leave, I shouted up to them, while broadcasting as much indignation and curiosity and piteous emotion I could muster, all in the hopes that they might provide me better accommodations, away from Muleater. ¡°Why am I down here?!¡± I shouted up at them. But they remained silent. However, that did not mean that they failed to respond, for seconds later, I scented something akin to ¡®patience.¡¯ They wanted me to be patient? Or were they talking amongst themselves, and I merely ¡®overheard¡¯ them? Of course, my vocalizations drew Muleater¡¯s ire. ¡°Heh. Think they¡¯re gonna answer, girl?¡± Muleater asked. She found a wrapped bundle that had been tossed down and began rummaging through it. She passed me a gourd, presumably full of water, while she kept the hard canned biscuits and left the raw meat to me. ¡°Disgusting,¡± she said, sniffing at the meat. The meat could almost remind me of bacon, or ham. Though it was no pork. It was filled with purple ligaments and off-colored stripes of fat. I also shared Muleater¡¯s distaste, but I was beginning to learn to accept my new biology, and my new dietary requirements. So I humored her. ¡°Because it¡¯s raw?¡± I asked. ¡°No, well, that too,¡± she said. ¡°But it¡¯s the source of it that¡¯s bad.¡± ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± I asked. I still was not exactly sure where the meat came from, but I thought it was a meohr, or what the humans used as mules. She spat. ¡°It¡¯s nearly cannibalism.¡± I eyed her. Dubiously. I had literally eaten Kissen in front of the humans. ¡°Look, I might expect that outta you, but that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m going to commit it. It¡¯s bad. Wrong.¡± ¡°But¡­ it¡¯s not from a human¡­?¡± ¡°Close enough. Crown save me from explaining it. It¡¯s bad enough that Kate eats that shit.¡± Interesting. So Kate¡¯s interests were not aligned with Muleater. And it sounded like Kate might still be alive, at least from the tense used. Muleater failed to sound depressed when mentioning Kate, which indicated that Kate might still be alive. Though why I cared, I was unsure. Muleater took the biscuits and a gourd, and she scuttled off to her lean-to. She mumbled, ¡°godslovin¡¯ freaks,¡± under her breath as she left. I decided I would My stomach rumbled. I was hungry. And the food was already there. It would be a waste to turn my nose up at it, even if it was raw. I tore into the strips, not even realizing blood dripped down my chin. I washed it all away with water from the amphorae, some of the sweetest water I had ever tasted. If this was what getting captured was going to be like, I might not be terribly opposed. Though they could still put me somewhere nicer than this pit. Later that evening, Muleater relieved herself. In the furthest side of the pit from her lean-to. I turned my back to give her the illusion of privacy. The noises¡­ were not genteel. ¡°The fiberless shit always turns my stomach,¡± she complained, referring to the wet and gross biscuits she had eaten. I nodded weakly, unsure of how to respond, except to be grossed out. Though Muleater was not through, even though she was squatting, and releasing¡­ things. ¡°Guess the meat sat well with you?¡± she asked. A particularly audible release sounded. I winced, but nodded again. Eventually, she finished. Thank Mother for that. Muleater wiped her hands on the loose vegetation which she then threw over the corner. ¡°Well?¡± she asked. ¡°Hm?¡± Unsure of what she was after, I could only hum to demonstrate confusion. My thoughts raced to all the terrible things she could be meaning to ask. After that performance, my own stomach twisted. ¡°Your turn.¡± She looked at me expectantly. When it became clear I was missing her point, she grunted, ¡°Whatever. Don¡¯t expect savages to know manners anyhow.¡± She stomped back to her lean-to. Not long after, her breathing settled, and I assumed she slept. Likely lightly. If I wanted to, I could kill her. Likely. Maybe. At least hurt her, or draw muck on her face. And yet, she still slept. Was it a ruse? Or did she genuinely feel such exhaustion that she would take that risk. I pondered this as I found my own corner of the wall to curl up. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. It was cold, and I slept fitfully that night, with almost memories plaguing my dreams. They felt so effervescent. I could almost grab them, remember them, recall my sister, recall my¡­ I awoke with a shudder. And when I woke up, I found a coarse cloth covering me, providing a modicum of warmth. Where had the cloth come from? I was hesitant to call it a blanket, but it was appreciated all the same. Muleater was up and stretching. She saw me lifting the blanket. ¡°Guess one of ¡®em took pity on you,¡± she said. ¡°Sure as gods wasn¡¯t me.¡± Apparently, the infested had been down in the pit while we slept. At least if I was to trust what Muleater was saying. Perhaps, perhaps the reason that Muleater could trust herself to sleep the night before was that she knew our lives were already at the hivemind¡¯s mercy. But even then, the infested hivemind and my own agency were independent. I needed to make sure she knew that the hivemind and myself were separate entities, lest she take her frustrations with them out upon me. While I pondered, Muleater spoke an observation. ¡°You don¡¯t piss or shit, do you?¡± she asked, or more stated. ¡°Pardon?¡± I said, taken aback. ¡°I¡¯ve been watching, trying to figure you out. You probably didn¡¯t know the customs, one turn for another and all that. But I had some suspicions, thinking back on it. I never remember you actually making waste. Is that one of your Marks?¡± I swallowed saliva, wetting my mouth, before I remembered I still had some water left in the gourd. I took a drink and wiped my chin. I guessed there was no point in really lying about it at this point. She would just be watching me from here on out, which would only lead to further distrust. I might as well tell her. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s from the Mark,¡± I said. ¡°But no, I don¡¯t make¡­¡± I grimaced in disgust, ¡°waste.¡± She scoffed. ¡°Takes all sorts.¡± And she shook her head. Not long after, we were interrupted by the Jungleborn guard. Muleater¡¯s face fell. She swore. ¡°Gods take it.¡± ¡°What?¡± I asked. She groaned and just shook her head. ¡°Infesting us probably,¡± she might have whispered. ¡°Hnn¨Cuh-uhp,¡± the infested guard said in his halting, cracking voice. He threw down the ladder once more. Both Muleater and I eyed the rope ladder with some trepidation, unsure of what the infested planned. I could tell Muleater was more nervous than I, but I was still unsure about the whole situation. Not that it mattered, my feelings. ¡°You first girl,¡± Muleater said. ¡°I¡¯ll be right behind.¡± I groaned in protest, but complied all the same. I climbed the ladder, where I found well over twenty of the infested serving as sentries, including hundeor, and two infested human guardsmen. I kept silent, though prepared to try an Illusion if things went south. From the scent, nothing seemed dangerous. But the entire situation had me on edge. ¡°This the end of the line?¡± Muleater asked as she came up behind. ¡°Surprised it didn¡¯t come sooner.¡± ¡°Hnn¨CNhoo,¡± the nearest infested guard said, and not the same who had tossed down the ladder. He pointed at us, then away from the pit, towards the center of the valley. ¡°Wwhaalhk.¡± I gave a confused shrug and began cautiously to walk in the direction indicated. An infested hundeor walked directly before me to direct my path, while others flanked me. Muleater hesitated, and was shoved forwards for her trouble. ¡°Alright, I¡¯m moving,¡± she grumbled. Then under her breath, ¡°I know you can hear this girl. Get ready to move on my signal.¡± What? ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°Just wait. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s bad.¡± ¡°How would you know?¡± she derided a bit louder than she ought to have. She likely failed to realize that even if the infested hivemind failed to hear her intentions, that they would likely be able to smell them, or however else they perceived the world. They were not audible creatures, at least so far as I could discern. ¡°Just a feeling,¡± I replied to her, again insisting that she only comply, and take no aggressive actions. Surprisingly enough, she listened. Though not without complaints. ¡°Gods loving animals, Crown save me.¡± We arrived at a pond at the center of the valley, a shallow one, with a putrid gelatinous mound rising from the center. I thought I could see tendrils writhe in the mound, though the water itself was completely pure. ¡°This is gonna be it,¡± Muleater groaned. ¡°Just wait,¡± I insisted, noticing a trail that went around the pond. A trail which we were now being led on. Fifteen minutes later, nothing happened, and we were a quarter the way around the pond. Soon, we were halfway around. And then, we were back where we started. ¡°What was even the purpose of this?¡± Muleater asked. ¡°Are they walking us like¡­ pets?¡± she sounded disgusted. ¡°Stretching the legs?¡± I said. I refrained from mentioning that it was the exact same thing the humans had done to the Kaiva and myself. Though it felt like a better walk this time around. Judging by that alone, I would say the infested were superior pet owners. Not that I would ever consent to being anyone¡¯s pet. That was just degrading. Humiliating even. Feelings which Muleater might be struggling with herself. ¡°Gods take it and this blasted fate!¡± she swore, beginning to lash out. The infested grabbed her from behind. ¡°Hkk-qu-hh¨Cet,¡± it said. She growled, pulled away and shoved back, but made no more aggressive moves. The infested gave her some space. Soon, we were walking back towards the pit, and my stomach turned. That pit was fetid and nasty and I wanted nothing to do with it. Which is why I was somewhat pleased, when an infested guardsmen pulled me aside, off the path. Muleater paused as well, but the Jungleborn behinder her pushed her forwards, insisting that Muleater keep walking. ¡°But, the kid?¡± she asked, referring to me, curiously enough. The infested continued insisting with their broken voices, growing more aggressive in their motions, clearly communicating their intentions should either Muleater or myself fail to follow orders. And still, Muleater looked like she was ready to ¡®throw down.¡¯ Was this for my sake, or was she solely looking for an excuse. I worried that if she acted out and rebelled, that I would be dragged along with her and the consequences. I had to keep her from acting rashly. She acted like she had never been a captive before. It was the basics, comply, earn rewards, and avoid punishment. The trick was knowing who called the shots, and in this case, it was the hivemind. ¡°Listen to them,¡± I told her, irritated with her own naivety. ¡°-but,¡± she started to protest. I cut her off. ¡°Keep going, I¡¯ll be fine.¡± ¡°You sure kid?¡± she asked. ¡°You know infestation is probably worse than death, right?¡± She eyed one of the guards skeptically. ¡°Hnn¨Cihs not,¡± they protested. ¡°That¡¯s¨CI just don¡¯t think they would have spared me this long to hurt me all a sudden. It should be fine,¡± I reasoned. She hesitated, but another shove sent her stumbling forward. ¡°Alright! I¡¯m going. Crown burn you, I¡¯m going!¡± And then she was walking past, towards the pit and the ladder. Meanwhile, the infested held me aside, and I waited in confusion. After Muleater was secured, they soon led me in a direction I recognized. Towards the creature. I really needed a proper name for them. Towards the hivequeen. Whatever the outcome was, I absolutely needed to make a better introduction. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (1/9)
      • Featherlight (5/9)
  • Stealth I (4/9)
    • Trackless Tracks (8/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (2/9)
    • Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (6/9)
  • Closed
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.4 ¡°Mu-car-y.¡± The infested guardsmen spoke haltingly when asked for what to call the Jungleborn. But after listening to it, as he led me further away from the pit and from Muleater, he repeated it several times, as though a tongue twister. ¡°Muh-kahr-ie,¡± he tried again, this time over pronouncing it. I thought I might have had it. ¡°Mucary?¡± I asked, smoothing out what he emphasized. ¡°y-Ye-hs.¡± We soon reached the southern lip of the bowl, where the creature waited, standing tall against a pillar, viewing the shattered horizon. The creature spoke, though those words were carried in scent, and my name was actually a scent profile that I only barely noticed as an absence. If I were to deconstruct it, my name was actually, ¡®purple furred humanoid who is a friend.¡¯ Obviously, a mouthful, or in this case, a noseful. ¡°Good morning,¡± I said, and then fumbled. ¡°I, err, don¡¯t know your actual name, unless you want to go by Mucary?¡± Fortunately, there were infested creatures¨Cmucary¨Cnearby that still retained audible sensory and were able to translate my words to scent profile, otherwise communications would have remained difficult, though not impossible. the last part I struggled to parse. ¡°Sorry?¡± I asked. ¡°I couldn¡¯t catch that.¡± It was definitely a complicated slew of scents and images, with even a partial dance mixed in. Altogether, it was so overwhelming as to be hypnotic, and made my own ¡®name¡¯ seem like a pebble to her mountain. And they repeated the entire process once again, to repeat herself. <...> I could parse parts of it, but not fast enough. Fortunately, one of the infested guardsmen was nearby to translate the hive-queen¡¯s name into a verbal, humanized version, even if it was far too trite and wholly insufficient for the meaning that they wished to translate. ¡°Em-bo-roo.¡± But even then, the infested guard, whose tongue was partially animated via tendrils, struggled to make the appropriate sound. I could tell the entire process pained everyone involved. They practically radiated frustration. And yet, they tried once more. After a few more attempts, they finally came close enough that I caught it. ¡°Emboru.¡± the infested guardsmen finally said. ¡°That¡¯s your name then?¡± I asked the hive-queen. Again, I struggled to decipher all of the scent markers. ¡°h-Va-ahl,¡± the guardsmen said, then repeated several times until forming the word to their satisfaction, ¡°Vaul.¡± By then, minutes had passed, and that was solely to interpret their name in a method I could understand. I felt relief when I finally strung it all together, and I could tell they did as well, though there was an element of dissatisfaction as well. ¡°Then, Emboru of the Vaul Mucary, it is a pleasure to see you again.¡± I largely kept myself calm and unmoving, considering Emboru. I still was unsure what they planned for me, or why they had helped me and then thrown me into a pit with Muleater, but I could guess. ¡°What can I help you learn?¡± I asked. Emboru let silence hang while they loomed over me, examining me with their tulip shaped head. I doubted they had eyes there, at least none that I saw. However, they must have used it to sense me somehow. I resisted the urge to scoff. It might have been offensive. Instead, I pretended to go along with their doubt. It was all a sleight of hand, and both of us knew it. We were merely feeling eachother out. I could play this game. ¡°I suppose there are many reasons to have steered me towards their caravan? to house me with a human?¡± Because there was no way that my meeting with the mucary had been anything near chance. They had scouts spread out all across the wastes. They must have, if they could track the humans half so well, and with the number of infested creatures I had thus far seen. Nothing else made sense. But the game continued, with Emboru playing coy. Again, they continued with the overlapping sentences-worth of information. I was getting better at piecing it together though. I pretended to tap my chin in thought, before asking aloud, ¡°But wouldn¡¯t Muleater be more of a prisoner than a guest?¡± Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. They acted as though it were a new concept, that there was a difference between guests and prisoners. Unless that really was a new concept to them, but they seemed too smart to not know that. No, I decided, they were pressing my buttons, estimating what made me tick. Likely, they had a future manipulation in store. In some ways, that reminded me of my¨C ¡°The difference is that prisoners aren¡¯t voluntary,¡± I explained, cutting off the unpleasant thoughts before they could devolve further. Well, I supposed that in some instances guests had nowhere else to go, or lacked the means to leave. ¡°There are edge cases, I suppose¡­ but let me ask you this¨C¡± I licked my canines in preparation for a potentially unpleasant answer, ¡°Am I a prisoner?¡± Emboru sent forcefully. ¡°If that¡¯s the case, then why are you imprisoning me in a pit?!¡± I asked, immediately regretting the tone I was setting. It had been rash. Fortunately, they took it well enough. Surprisingly well. I wondered if they would have taken it a bit more poorly had I nothing they wanted. Actually, scratch that. I already knew the answer to that particular question. Had I nothing they wanted, I would already be infested. Emboru continued. I hated how reasonable they made it sound. Of course, the hivemind of zombie-like tentacle creatures have trouble socializing with outsiders. And of course, they lack awareness of appropriate accommodations. Except by their own words, they had epochs worth of knowledge, likely some including not housing people in latrine pits. But I sensed that Emborue would not be budging here and now. No, this was all merely to determine what kind of person I was, and if I could deliver what they wanted. I decided to take another track. ¡°And of Muleater? Could better accommodations be provided¨C¡± I barely had time to finish the question before Emborue snapped several tendrils together, cracking the air. They radiated anger. All of the mucary did. And while Emboru may have lacked a face, I could practically feel the scowl. It was a sudden mood shift. And we had danced around the topic of Muleater previously. I was uncertain why directly mentioning her accommodations would cause such a reaction. Wisely, I refrained from pushing, lest I also be contaminated with whatever about Muleater upset them. was all they sent. They pulled away as they sent it, and the infested guardsmen were quick to return me to the pit. It seemed I had a puzzle to unravel. Just what had Muleater done, and what horrible fate was planned for her? Muleater was pacing by the time I crested the top of the pit, though she stopped immediately upon seeing me. She frowned with worry at first, but then quickly began glaring at me, especially as I climbed down the ladder to rejoin her. ¡°Well?¡± she all but demanded. ¡°What did these monsters want? Thought they were going to infest you, but I see that¡¯s not the case. Or is it?¡± Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. I shrugged, unsure of what I should say. That I had been speaking to the leader, Emboru, and asking why our accommodations were so lacking? I thought Muleater might respond poorly to that. But I needed to offer some sort of answer. As the silence stretched on, I realized I would look fairly suspicious if I was unable to provide at least something. So I began with the barebones. ¡°They took me up to the southern lip of the valley,¡± I said. She pursed her lips, confused. ¡°Why?¡± Because of course she would want more. ¡°The leader wanted to speak with me,¡± I said, wincing as she snarled and latched onto the front of my jacket. ¡°The wykwirk don¡¯t speak,¡± she hissed. ¡°Ah¨C¡± I thought quickly of a method that would neither be a deceit nor reveal too much of my own capabilities, or of my relations with Emboru. ¡°-but, you¡¯ve heard the infested humans speak?¡± I asked weakly. She scoffed and let me go. ¡°Alright,¡± she said. ¡°So what did it want? They sent you here to put the screws to me?¡± She sneered. I shook my head. ¡°I requested better accommodations. They really are mad at you. What did you do to them?¡¯ ¡°They even feel emotion?¡± ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°How. How can you tell?¡± I pointed at my noise. ¡°They carry different scent markers.¡± ¡°Well, they probably know it was me that led the defence against them. I killed a lot of them.¡± ¡°Really?¡± I asked. ¡°I got the impression that the individuals didn¡¯t matter too much to the whole.¡± ¡°Like insects.¡± I winced, but nodded slightly, hoping I would not be overheard by the mucary . That seemed like the type of thing that would offend them. ¡°If not that, then only the Crown knows.¡± She sighed, slouching against the earthen wall. We both remained silent, in thought. And I recalled back to when the mucary first attacked. Why had they attacked the caravan? There must have been a reason. And thinking back, there had been a crate that had smelled distressed, similar to the mucary, though I had not realized it at the time. If I recalled correctly, it had been an interest of the alchemist. Realizing I might have stumbled on a clue, I asked suddenly, ¡°What was in the crate?¡± ¡°What?¡± Muleater asked, looking up. From the shadows of the pit, her face was largely concealed, but I could see her eyes focus like a hawk beneath the grime. ¡°There was a crate, I think that the alchemist was shipping. It smelled like the infested. I think that might have been why they attacked, and I was wondering what was in it. If that might explain some of the aberrant behavior.¡± Rather than answering, Muleater swore. ¡°Gods take you Charson!¡± Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (1/9)
      • Featherlight (5/9)
  • Stealth I (4/9)
    • Trackless Tracks (8/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (2/9)
    • Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (6/9)
  • Closed
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.5 After some discussion, I relayed to Muleater what I knew about the crate, which was very little. I knew that it gave the same sense as the infested creatures, though radiating pain and discomfort more so than anything else. I also knew that the infested creatures appeared interested in the crate when I had fled the caravan. We actually were unsure if the crate belonged to Charson at all, or if it were a coincidence. Neither of us thought it was coincidental, but it was still a possibility. If that were all we knew, then we likely would have given Charson a possible pass on the guilt for drawing the mucary towards us. But it turned out that Charson and Stillson had both been barred from the Mercenaries Guild for a reason. They had both been caraveening south of the chasm, in the jungles, and whatever had happened had been bad enough that the Mercenaries held a grudge. It was important to note that caravans were lost on the regular, and the Mercenaries guild hardly ever blocklisted anybody. Whatever happened down there, must have been bad. Or, or Stillson had done something to anger the leaders of the guild. Regardless, neither Muleater nor I came away from our deliberations with any concrete advantage. Thus tired, we retired for the evening. The next day, I once again found myself separated from Muleater. The mucary had escorted me to the southern ledge of the crater, where Emboru waited, watching out over the horizon. At least I assumed that was what Emboru was doing. As they lacked eyes, or any clear front or back, it was difficult to tell for certain. When I joined them, I scanned the horizon. We remained in such a way for several moments, until they commenced communications. Out on the horizon of the bleak and twisted wastes, before a series of hills in the distance, I thought I saw a uniform, regular, and rigid pattern. Though at the distance, I could barely make out more than that. I was unsure how far away they even were, but at least several days by foot, considering the terrain. But the colors were just a tad too vibrant, with too many whites and reds and blacks. And even if they were specs, whatever it was failed to match the scenery. And while I would hesitate to call anything ¡®unnatural¡¯ in this mothersworn world, I thought that this might count. ¡°Is that¡­ Are those¡­ people?¡± I asked hesitantly. Emboru confirmed. That boded¡­ not poorly, but not necessarily beneficial either. The humans and the mucary had shown hostilities between each other, but the mucary were firmly entrenched in this valley, and from what I had seen of humans thus far, I doubted they could do much against the infested. There were just too many of them, and they spread too quickly. But then I remembered Alchemist Charson, and how such small vials could release such large areas of esoteric malicious effects. And that was just one alchemist. Presumably, there were better alchemists out there. I decided that this did in fact bode poorly for me. Especially if those large area of effect attacks were released while I remained with the mucary. I needed more details to be certain of the risk, prior to making any plans of either escape, defecting, or offering aid. ¡°How many of them, and do they know you¡¯re here?¡± I was unable to think of a way to politely and tactfully ask if they thought that the humans would destroy them, and me, by association or proximity. Emboru answered as I thought. A tribe¡­ but what was that in numbers? I would have dug in further, but I smelled no concern from Emboru, instead, the mucary gave off a feeling reminiscent of anticipation. Of¡­ vengeance? ¡°Will you attack them?¡± I asked. They answered without answering. I felt that there were hidden objectives that I was lacking context of and that Emboru was withholding. Why they would withhold, I failed to fathom. But then again, I struggled to make sense of much of what Emboru or the mucary did. However, I thought that I would venture a thought, the suspicion that both Muleater and I had corroborated upon the evening prior. ¡°You seek the Alchemist Charson?¡± I asked. They remained ¡®silent,¡¯ instead encouraging me to continue. Whether it would accomplish worsening my circumstances or not, that was the risk. In this instance, I measured the risk as light, and the opportunity as great. Thus, I continued. ¡°Or what the alchemist was transporting¡­ something related to you and your nest¨C¡± Anger flashed out from their presence, though not directed at me. Coupled with that was a touch of longing and loss. From what I knew of the mucary, they cared little for the individuals of their society, at least not the infested. Thus, if a so-called ¡®wyrkwik¡¯ had been captured and pacified, Emboru would likely not overly care. Especially not if it was solely an infested creature. Which left a question: what had the alchemist been transporting in that crate? An idea began to coalesce. Judging from the volatile emotions, I would need to be careful. Best to ease in indirectly from a neighboring topic. ¡°What do I call those of the mucary such as you, versus the rest of them?¡± I finished by pointing and sweeping at the infested creatures, both the guardsmen and the animals that chaperoned our discussion. Emboru failed to understand my question, instead radiating confusion. To them, there was no difference. But clearly there was a hierarchy here. My own confusion must have been evident. They nodded, then gestured at my head, then at my hand. Perhaps I had read too much into their ability to understand facial expressions, or I was perhaps sending mixed signals. This vexed me. ¡°But this is not that. What can I call the leaders of your people?¡± A scent that was pure and sweet and honey-like wafted off them. Were I to compare the idea to anything, it would be a royal jelly, a monarch¡­ but more youthful, more vibrant. It snapped into place, and I realized what they were communicating. ¡°And the others?¡± I asked, referring to the infested creatures. The scent, while still sweet, now mixed with earthy tones and hints of copper that carried just a bit of tang. I interpreted the scent as. It was not exactly what they were sending, but likely the closest I could come to describing the term. ¡°How many are there?¡± I asked, attempting to emulate the scent, and failing disastrously. They radiated a sense of bubbling laughter, though they remained silent, though they did not shake or move. Or really change at all. And yet, they were laughing. At me. I squashed the feelings of anger and tried my best to keep them from affecting my scent. I forced a smile. ¡°Fine,¡± I said, almost snapped. And then, instead of attempting to use scent to communicate, I used words. ¡°Princesses then, the heir of the monarch. Unless you¡¯re the Queen? The royal we and all?¡± ¡°Pr-incehss,¡± the infested guard croaked. ¡°Pr-incehss Emm-bohru.¡± That works then. ¡°How many other Princesses count among the Vaul Macury?¡± It took some processing to figure that out. The imagery though, was a single trunk that split to two saplings, except with roots instead. Which was an interesting deviation and was worth noting, but not at that moment. ¡°You and one other?¡± Which, if I understood it, ¡°Is the Root your parent?¡± It was coming together. ¡°How?¡± I asked. A leading question on my end, certainly. But oblique angles of attack, to keep the anger and mal-empathy focused on other targets. ¡°How did they capture your sibling?¡± I ventured the specification, though it was a gamble, I felt I had understanding of what drove Emboru. A potent smell of rotten eggs and stress momentarily overwhelmed me, which was a deeper and richer version of anger and self-castigation if I understood it correctly. Their tendrils writhed within their chest, making their ¡®ribs¡¯ dance like a squid trapped in clear gel. While not horrifying, at least not to me, it would take some getting used to. I supposed anyone would look strange with translucent flesh. A part of that message was lost. The honey scent I associated with royalty, but deeper, spicier, almost with a hint of cinnamon. ¡°Ahhll-Rrooht.¡± The infested guardsman offered in their broken voice as an explanation. ¡°Not warriors then?¡± I asked. The infested shook their heads. ¡°I am surprised, considering the attack and the hounding.¡± I remembered the Caravan Master¡¯s stories of the jungle trade routes, specifically, their being overrun, and entire exploration parties lost, along with some of the follow up recovery parties, until the routes were finally moved. But if this group, or Vaul Root, considered themselves somewhat pacified, then if someone were to target the macury, that might be where they would focus. A softer target. Especially if that person was able to leave the consequences of a riled up nest of infested plant monsters to someone else. ¡°Was it the Alchemist Charson that stole your twin then?¡± I asked, finally laying it all out there. Mixed signals then. So I was partly right? Emboru might not know for certain then. But that brought up another question. Entirely relevant. ¡°Were you able to capture the alchemist?¡± I asked. I figured that some vengeance for Kissen¡¯s sake might be warranted. But, Emboru¡¯s potent scent grew bitter. ¡°But you recovered the crate. Was that not what you were looking for?¡± Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°But that crate was¨C¡± Their scent turned putrid and was so overpowering that I took an involuntary step back, my hackles raised. They loomed over me, focusing their attention on me, growing, stretching. I cowered. ¡°Sorry,¡± I said softly, almost a whisper. We remained like that for several long seconds, until the scent began to dissipate. I nodded, glad to be out from under the very much negative emotion, and very grateful to be given such a graceful out. During the interim of ¡®silence,¡¯ they turned their attention back southward. It was now clear that they were observing the humans. I took that to mean that the encroaching humans were the reason I was brought here, and that the conversation was yet to be concluded, as I had yet to be taken back to the pit. But still, I was nervous to speak once more. So I waited. And waited. What felt like an hour passed. The scent of bitterness slowly dissipated, until naught but a hint of it remained. Tiring of the silence, and figuring that they expected me to query, I gathered the courage to speak. ¡°You said those humans might not be involved earlier. Did you find out otherwise?¡± I asked, hoping to learn more about the range of their almost psychic connection with their drones. If their drones were scouting the humans, which I assumed they were. Then the range would be quite large. ¡°Southbridge,¡± I said, beating the infested guardsman to the punch. ¡°You believe your¨C¡± I cut myself off before I mentioned their sibling directly. Instead, I lamely switched to ¡°-target, is held in Southbridge?¡± ¡°From what I have heard of the city, it would take a fairly large army to breach the place, at least if you went with brute force. And the casualties would likely be high¡­ at least, if that is something you care about, which I think it is since you have so far spared Muleater.¡± They seemed thoughtful, but not upon my words, instead upon myself. As though they were weighing me based on my own deductions. I wondered if this was a test. They wanted to know if I was clever. They wanted to know my skill set. Because they wanted someone to sneak in. Which I thought I might be able to accomplish. I had my bargaining chip then. ¡°Infiltration. Which explains your interest in me.¡± A touch of sweetness began flowing through the conversation again. ¡°I¡­¡± I likely could easily enter and leave the city, especially if humans had integrated kunbeorn as servants within their hierarchies. But saying that would reduce the amount I could ask for. It would reduce my worth. However, I could not say that the task was impossible, because then what purpose would Emboru have with keeping me around? It was a middle ground I needed to walk. ¡°I might be able to help.¡± What did I need from them? Currently I was at their mercy, but if I were to aid them, I would leave their power and venture into an enemy¡¯s domain. Therefore, if they were intelligent, they would offer incentives to ensure my continued cooperation, even after I reached the human city. ¡°I am hesitating, but not because I doubt myself,¡± I explained, opening negotiations. ¡°I am skilled at what I think you need. If you need eyes in the city, a way to find evidence of macury, and to perhaps thieve them away in the night¨CI am uniquely suited to do that, especially as many fail to notice the particulars of the macury presence.¡± ¡°What?¡± I asked, caught by surprise. ¡°How would you know what I¡¯m capable of?¡± That confidence would make the sale easier, but at the same time, that they were monitoring me for so long left an uneasy flavor in my maw. How easily would it be for them to track me once I left them? However, that would be a problem for later. Currently, I needed to know what sort of concessions I could negotiate. ¡°But there would be difficulties,¡± I hedged. ¡°The humans do not treat people like¨C¡± I waved at myself, ¡°-well.¡± They were making me spell it out then. ¡°I would be happier avoiding them altogether.¡± The lowest were the highest? Perhaps in a different society. But not with humans. Unless they meant that the lowest had access to the highest because the highest employed and ignored the lowest? I decided to speak my first objection clearly. ¡°I am not someone¡¯s pet.¡± At this point, several of the infested were approaching our position. One of them was carrying a very familiar satchel. Another one was carrying an oiled and waxed chest. They gave the impression of asking if I was too afraid to take the job. I scoffed, a bit more bombastically than I felt, but I needed to put on a show of confidence. ¡°No. But the displeasure of infiltrating the humans will need to be compensated.¡± Their next comment caught me off-guard. If. If I was. I am human. But they would not understand, if I even broached the subject. ¡°The infiltration would be easier in some ways if I was,¡± I said. ¡°But how¡­¡± I trailed off as they lifted the waxed and oiled chest. ¡°Is¡­ is¡­¡± I stuttered, feeling faint, weak. Suddenly my body once again felt too alien, like a layer of latex covering my skin, suffocating me. Now that there was a potential solution? It would be too cruel for this to be a simple tactic, or a deceit, on the mucary¡¯s part. ¡°That¡­¡± I was still tongue tied. The chest. A grimoire? I was unsure if I could believe them. But if it was the case? And this was a land of magic. I had to admit that it might be possible. At least, I lacked the knowledge to disprove it. Yet still, I hesitated. If this was true, then this artifact, the grimoire, was rare, expensive. Valuable. Was this what they would pay me with? How would I even know it works, or how to use it? They awaited my answer. By showing how desperate I was for this, I would weaken my own bartering position, but at that moment, I cared not. I nodded. ¡°Y-yes. Please.¡± They opened the chest, removing a clear gel seal, similar to their own flesh. Within was padded velvet, and a small leather-bound book with a clear gem embedded to the front¡­ and that was it. A book. Other than the runes engraved in flowing patterns, and the maybe-diamond-gem like blade on the cover, but other than that, I saw nothing to indicate incredible value. ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± I asked, feigning some disinterest. ¡°I don¡¯t understand how this would work.¡± At the same time, I was ogling the large, hand-length gem knife that was embedded into the thick cover. That alone must have been worth something. The very book radiated power. And if a tattoo could empower me, then what could this book do? ¡°But it¡¯s a book,¡± I said, catching my confidence. Now to downplay the offering. They corrected. ¡°Fine then, how would this alleged grimoire turn me ba¨Cinto a human?¡± <...all grimoires carry spores divine, transmutation, spirit. You, have ¡­ can hold the spell. Influence ¡­ selection, spell received per need, spell received per capability. Difficulty, explanation. Frustration.> A jumble of ideas meshed together, until the slew was such a mess that I struggled to parse what they were trying to get across. But if I captured the jist, the grimoire actually could provide any spell, and I could somehow influence the selection. While I could not pick up all the intent they sent, I thought they referred to my Marks. I anticipated that they were using my Marks as an illustration to help them communicate, so I complied with their request. I pulled my jacket off, noticing dourly that the jacket was growing incredibly stained and worn, though the leather had held up better than it should have thus far. ¡°I lost the one here,¡± I waved my left arm. ¡°But I still have this.¡± I showed them my right forearm, where my mark had been growing throughout all my travails. It now stretched around and almost enclosed my arm in flowing runes. they said after wrapping a tendril around my arm and trailing the warm and feather-light digit along the script. Goosebumps pimpled my skin. I hesitated once more. It was a barter. We were bartering. I could not simply roll over at the first offer. Even assuming that the grimoire worked, and that I received a spell that would allow me to ¡®infiltrate¡¯ the humans effectively, that would still leave me at a disadvantage. I would need more. I showed my left arm, or rather, the stump. ¡°Is there another grimoire to regrow body parts?¡± I asked. They paused, considering. It had been a longshot I supposed. I remained silent though, a common negotiation tactic. I would allow them to make a counter offer. They were not rushed. I turned my attention back on the horizon. Towards the humans. They must have made camp already. It seemed like they had stopped moving at least, though hard to tell for certain. I turned back to them. So they could restore my missing body part? Why had they not led with that then? I felt a chill. What if they wanted to pay half now and half later? I wanted both items beforehand though. ¡°What if I offer collateral?¡± I said, hoping. But what could I have to offer as collateral, other than my flesh. They took my satchel and handed it to me. But, it had already been in their possession to keep. They could have easily kept the fact from me that they had my bag. I had not seen it since before the caravan. It had been a while, and I had not been in the best of conditions when I parted with it. So why were they showing me it, offering it, as though it were mine to barter with? That did not seem exactly right. There had to be something more to it. I opened up the satchel and began digging through the items. One by one, as I showed them to Emboru as potential collateral, they were shot down. And of course they were. Why would Emboru express an interest in anything that they had technically just been in possession of. There had to be more to it, something binding, something that kept them from simply absconding with¡­ my hands settled onto something that I had forgotten. The egg-like object. It was nearly obsidian black, the size of two of my hands pressed together, and covered in a silver marking that matched one on my own stomach, over my ribs, and under my fur. I had forgotten about that. In all the uncertainty and chaos, I had little chance to truly consider what it meant. But the egg, if it was an egg, was bound to me. Which would explain Emboru¡¯s incentive to show me it. They wanted the egg? The radiated amusement. ¡°This?¡± I asked, holding it out to them. They did not take hold of it, instead allowing me to continue holding it. ¡°Why? What is it?¡± ¡°High Silver,¡± the infested guard said. ¡°That does not sound good.¡± Right, I remembered that a little, from what I picked up while traveling with the humans. There were six majors: arms, neck (both sides), and stomach (both sides). The lessers were legs and lower back. All together, the possible sites for marking added up to nine. ¡°How does it hatch, if it¡¯s that old? Why hasn¡¯t it yet?¡± <...> I was unable to follow. One of the infested guards spoke. ¡°Li-hh-vingh Ge-hmm.¡± Living gem? I was not sure what that was. ¡°Just any gem then?¡± I saw the stone on the grimoire. I needed to test this. Not that it would work, but that the source of information was accurate. I tried pushing the stone from the grimoire against it. Lightning fast, the tendrils stopped me from finishing the motion. Another piece of evidence that they were speaking the truth. They pulled the egg and grimoire chest away, keeping them apart. the words merged together; they were angry. ¡°Sorry,¡± I said. ¡°I was testing it. So that¡¯s the deal, the book and the arm for help finding your twin?¡± They remained unmoving and silent, regarding me. I wondered if I had potentially ruined the deal. A part of me began to worry. ¡°And you hold onto the egg.¡± After another pause, they agreed. They radiated confirmation. ¡°Great. How do I get the arm then?¡± I asked. I know that they said it was costly. I was somewhat eager to start. They did waft irritation and anger, mixed with disappointment. I perhaps regretted testing them. It had been impulsive and foolish. Embarrassing. Those were not the hallmark traits of a promising thief. Emboru added as the infested began to depart, escorting me back towards the pit. We all paused. ¡°Yeah?¡± I asked. What? Emboru tapped the gem-like knife. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (1/9)
      • Featherlight (5/9)
  • Stealth I (4/9)
    • Trackless Tracks (8/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (2/9)
    • Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (6/9)
  • Closed
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.6 I left Emboru in a daze. It was too much to take in. The deal. The possibility that I could regain a human form¡­ so long as I slew a human with the grimmoire¡¯s ritualistic knife, so long as the grimoire rewarded me with a spell to transform, so long as I agreed to help search for Emboru¡¯s sibling. There was also the possibility I might regain my left arm. Though Emboru never specified exactly how that would work. It seemed like only seconds passed before I was climbing back down into the ¡®guest quarters,¡¯ the pit where Muleater was waiting for me. The second the ladder was pulled back up, Muleater was demanding information. I could hardly blame her for that. But it was not as though I could admit that Emboru wished to form a contract with me. Or that I needed to kill a human to possibly gain a human form. I could not imagine a law-woman to take either of those two facts well. It would be so much simpler if I could simply lie. ¡°Well, kid?!¡± Muleater asked, cornering me against the earthen walls of the pit. ¡°What¡¯d they want this time? They tell you when they¡¯re gonna start the torture? Or they try convincing you to cross me?¡± I definitely regretted that Muleater could detect falsehoods. I had to pick through my answer somewhat carefully. ¡°Not you specifically,¡± I said. She frowned. ¡°Great. So the Empire then? Gods take them,¡± she swore. I shrugged. I knew it was only a matter of time until she asked a follow up question, so I resorted to steering the conversation away from possibly sensitive topics through distraction. ¡°Well, there was one thing¡­¡± I said, trailing off. ¡°Oh yeah? What.¡± ¡°Well¡­ It was pretty big news that you¡¯d probably be interested in.¡± She gave me an un-amused glare. ¡°Godslicking ass, then spill already!¡± ¡°I will,¡± I said, feeling a sly smile begin to form across my face. I knew that I had her now, and we were far distant from the original topic of betrayal. ¡°At least, I will for a trade.¡± ¡°A what? Trade? What for!¡± There was a piece of information I had been wanting, and by demanding it, I could continue controlling the course of dialogue. ¡°If you want me to ¡®spill¡¯,¡± I said, ¡°Then tell me what happened to Sir Kate. Is she still alive?¡± She eyed me dubiously. ¡°You still hung up on that? Why would you care anyways?¡± Eschiver: 3/9 (+1) ¡°It¡¯s pretty big news¡­¡± I offered enticingly. ¡°It might be useful for someone attempting to escape.¡± ¡°Yeah, I get it. But if I tell you, then how can I be sure that the wyrkwik won¡¯t find her?¡± ¡°So she is alive?¡± Muleater winced, then scoffed. ¡°Walked into that. But yeah. So why you wanna know?¡± ¡°Does it matter why?¡± I asked. ¡°You care about her then?¡± Muleater asked, a slight smirk forming on her scarred and grimy face. It was my turn to wince. It was apparently enough of an answer for her to continue. ¡°You don¡¯t gotta say it¡­¡± her tone took a different turn, one laden with warning of judgment. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you beast types get up to, but humans don¡¯t¨Ccannot¨Cthink of animals that way. It¡¯s just¡­ no. It would be bad. Bad for her. So you gotta¨C¡± My cheeks burned, not that anyone could tell beneath the fur. ¡°No!¡± I snapped, embarrassed and disgusted all at once. I might not know what I felt for Kate, but I certainly was not about to let Muleater judge me for it. ¡°Regardless of what I feel for her, which isn¡¯t that¨C¡± I gave a glare ¡°-it is between me and her.¡± She nodded solemnly. ¡°Good. Keep it that way. Platonic. So, I tell you what I know. What¡¯s this so called ¡®news¡¯ that you tried bartering with?¡± I paused, wondering how far I could push this. ¡°You know, we never did come to an agreement on that¡­ and I never did say I would tell you. You offered up what you did on your own.¡± Muleater cracked her knuckles. ¡°So you want to play it like that?¡± She loomed over me, and once more, I remembered how short I was compared to just about everyone. I gulped, deciding it really was a win to tell her. Especially since we were away from the topic of murder, betrayal, and the fact that with one exception, that I liked the mucary more than the humans, though neither had treated me that great overall. ¡°There is an army approaching, about several days out.¡± Muleater¡¯s face went through several expressions, before settling on pinched. ¡°Who?¡± she asked. ¡°Humans?¡± I offered. ¡°Yeah, I got that,¡± she scoffed. ¡°What can you tell me? Crests, colors, names?¡± I thought back to the blurs in the distance. ¡°Black and red, and not much else.¡± ¡°Crown¡¯s colors. No telling who though. Got it.¡± ¡°Or it could be bandits?¡± I offered, playing devil¡¯s advocate. She scoffed. ¡°No, not if it¡¯s an army. None of those would be sneaking by. Someone would be sure to notice.¡± I left unsaid that the mucary had gone unnoticed, at least for some time. ¡°But why they tell you that?¡± ¡°They showed me. I saw them from a distance.¡± ¡°But why? It doesn¡¯t make sense for them to do that¡­ unless it¡¯s a trick?¡± The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°I saw them with my own eyes, though they were too far away to see any details. It could be a ploy¡­¡± In the end, all I could offer was a shrug. I was not exactly sure why they had shown me either, except as perhaps a test. It was hard to say for sure though. Muleater barked a laugh and shook her head. ¡°Here I am trying to understand an infested plant. So here¡¯s what we¡¯re going to do. We¡¯re gonna run for it.¡± ¡°Hm?¡± I tilted my head slightly. I heard her, but we had literally both just considered the fact that it could be a ploy of some kind. And that the mucary would especially be on the look-out now that they knew that we knew about the army on the horizon. ¡°Yeah kid, this is our chance. We¡¯ll be getting out kid! We need to plan. What¡¯re your Marks. Spells? Talents? C¡¯mon spill.¡± She ended shaking my shoulders. I winced, then offered weakly, ¡°Tell me yours first.¡± I remained unconvinced. I doubted we could escape, even if we wanted to. We had shared some of what we each could do. I revealed my most prized trump card, my Illusions. She revealed her Truth Detection, Battle Sense, and general fortifications of both the body and mind, along with an ability to sharpen blades and block blows preternaturally. But even with all these boons, I was still unconvinced. Muleater was making a mistake from her haste. ¡°This isn¡¯t going to work,¡± I told her. ¡°We¡¯re going to get caught.¡± ¡°Nah,¡± she said. ¡°Maybe. But we just need a distraction. This is gonna be the best chance we get. I need to get back, or die trying. I¡¯m meant for more than this hole.¡± ¡°Have you not seen this valley? It¡¯s covered in¨C¡± ¡°-yeah, it¡¯s infested. But with the humans nearby, the wyrkwik be scouting outwards.¡± ¡°But why all a sudden? Wouldn¡¯t it make sense for us to wait for the humans to come closer?¡± ¡°Assuming the wyrkwik don¡¯t just kill us when they think a battle is imminent. Or for some other reason. We need our agency¡­ besides, what if they don¡¯t know about the valley? We need to get warning to the army.¡± While Muleater might have been right about the lack of agency on my part, I would argue that sometimes inaction is the best course of action. Instead, I focused on a different angle of attack. ¡°You don¡¯t know that the army doesn¡¯t know. In fact, it looked like they¡¯re out here for the infested.¡± She started to speak, but I kept going. ¡°-look, I¡¯m all for escaping. But who profits if we¡¯re immediately re-captured? It will only worsen our condition.¡± ¡°You want to die down here?¡± Muleater asked hotly. ¡°This is likely our best chance. With the army there, the wyrkwik are distracted. Safety is within reach. We need to seize the opportunity.¡± We began going around in circles, a profitless argument. ¡°You¨Cwe¨Cwould have the best chance when the humans attack. Right now¡­ you don¡¯t have a stealth skill. Unless you¡¯ve been holding out?¡± ¡°But you do. You have a Crown blessed spell! Illusion! You can keep me hidden, while you stealth.¡± ¡°Illusions don¡¯t work on the mucary though.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Mucary, the infested?¡± ¡°Yeah, no I got that. Why don¡¯t your illusions work? You¡¯ve tried them, yeah? I shrugged. ¡°They don¡¯t have eyes. Well, some of them do, but most of them don¡¯t. They don¡¯t rely on sight like we do.¡± ¡°Gods take them!¡± she growled in frustration. ¡°They use scent then? You can thwart that at least. Think you can carry me?¡± I gave her a dubious look, then my missing arm. She was much taller, broader, heavier than me, and I was missing a mothersworn arm. ¡°Then we fight our way out. Are you familiar with the rogue archetype? Schools of assassins?¡± ¡°No.¡± That sounded like a video game though. Something my sister might have gotten into, but that I would never have been allowed the free-time for. ¡°Adventure Guild, sorry. It''s a nomenclature that spread out. But you are a stealth type. If we fight our way out¨C¡± I shuddered and shook my head vehemently. As if we could win now, when we lost while at the fringes of the mucary''s power base. ¡°-then I draw their attention, and you disable them. I don¡¯t know if you can kill them, if I can kill them, but disable them. Ligaments. That type stuff. Plus, we¡¯ll need supplies. Think you can find them?¡± ¡°Uhh. No. I¡¯m not really a fighter.¡± She gave me a dumbfounded expression before nodding and coming to a realization. ¡°Right. Kunbeorn. Well, unless, you don¡¯t want to help escape, and you want to die in this pit,¡± she threatened, making it clear that dying in the pit would be much more likely to happen if I failed to comply. Which was moronic, since if I did scout around, I would be much more likely to leave her to her own fate. She was not inspiring me with her leadership material, and the benefits were hardly existent at that. But still, I wondered how much I could get. I knew what Emboru had offered me, but what was the competing offer from the humans? ¡°Not saying I won¡¯t help you, but what will happen if we get out? It¡¯s not like I can live well with you humans. I¡¯m not keen on living in a cage the rest of my life.¡± ¡°But you¡¯re domesticated?¡± she asked. ¡°You are a kunbeorn, right?¡± I shook my head. I was not even sure what that term meant. ¡°Then why are you afraid of committing some violence?¡± ¡°It¡¯s¡­¡± I thought back to a fragment of a memory and shuddered. ¡°It was beaten out of me.¡± ¡°Kunbeorn,¡± she nodded sagely. ¡°Anyways, if you want to rough it, which I think is dumb. But if you want to, then we can get you south of the bridge, into the beast lands.¡± That did not seem appealing, especially without Kissen at my side for support. ¡°Is that the best offer?¡± I asked. ¡°No?¡± she said thoughtfully. ¡°I mean, if you want to live with humans, we could probably set you up with my niece. You like Kate, yeah?¡± ¡°What if I did?¡± I asked. ¡°Then we¡¯ll do that¡­ though I¡¯m just going to say this up-front, there will be some hassles involved. Like paperwork. And Crown help you if Kate¡¯s mother finds you messing around with her.¡± My cheeks burned and I buried my face in my right shoulder. ¡°Just¡­ we can figure that out later.¡± ¡°Well alright. So when we get back, we¡¯ll swing by the auctions and pick up your certs.¡± ¡°Certs? As in certificate?¡± I asked, feeling nauseous. ¡°Uh, yeah. Proof of ownership. You think we just let any beast run around the place?¡± She chortled as if it was a joke, before explaining. ¡°We have kids playing on the streets.¡± Yes, because animal people were intrinsically unsafe around children. My eyes narrowed further though. ¡°What do you mean by ownership? I will not be going through all this effort just to live as a slave.¡± ¡°Not slave. Servant,¡± she said. ¡°Beloved companion?¡± ¡°You¡¯re not selling me on this,¡± I said. ¡°The certs are just to make it legal. As long as you¡¯re with Kate or at home, you¡¯ll be fine. But¡­ well¡­ collars.¡± I shuddered. ¡°Now. I¡¯m going to boost you out. Because whether you end up in Southbridge, or off in the jungle, we¡¯re getting out.¡± I looked at her like she was crazy. ¡°No¡­ I don¡¯t think so. I¡¯m not going to risk my life and other three limbs just to be someones domesticated slave. Sorry, but no.¡± ¡°Huh. I misread you then¡­¡± she scratched her chin. ¡°You sure?¡± I nodded. ¡°It¡¯s almost evening, I¡¯m just going to turn in.¡± ¡°Well, here¡¯s the thing,¡± Muleater said. I eyed her warily. I had a feeling this was going nowhere good. She was taking a domineering stance, coercive even. ¡°You don¡¯t do this, and you can kiss any chance of passing through Southbridge goodbye. You¡¯re distinctive, yeah? I¡¯ll pass the warrants out for ya. A charter for your pelt. You won¡¯t be safe near civilization for a good long while, assuming you live that long.¡± I spat, growled, groaned. What could I do? Turn her in now? Shout for help? She could likely kill me before the mucary decided to take the threat seriously and arrive to rescue me. ¡°Right,¡± she nodded, giving a mean smile. ¡°Now use your tangible Illusions to make a ladder. We¡¯re getting out.¡± Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (1/9)
      • Featherlight (5/9)
  • Stealth I (4/9)
    • Trackless Tracks (8/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (3/9) (+1)
    • Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (6/9)
  • Closed
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.7.1 Naturally, it was not so simple as just creating a ladder through my Illusions. First, Muleater wanted to see the Spell in action with her own eyes, for verification. But a ladder was a bit unwieldy, and I struggled to simply envision it. But practice was practice, and this was verification that I could create tangible Illusions, which were almost unheard of. She said it would be a nightmare in competent hands. Thanks, for that. But she had a point. There were pieces of my kit that I still was unfamiliar with. I should have my tools down pat. All of my tools. So I obliged her request for verification. I doubted I had much of a choice anyways, and it cost me little. ¡°What should I make then?¡± I asked her, wondering if there was anything specific that she had in mind. My default would have been a knife, or maybe a clone, since I remembered how useful those were when fighting the Den Mother. However, I was unsure if I wanted Muleater to know about that. Afterall, how would law enforcement disarm someone that could magic up some sort of weapon? The measures would likely be draconian, and not something that I would want to experience. ¡°Chef¡¯s choice,¡± she shrugged. ¡°Just need to confirm that it could actually work. Apparently what I made mattered little to her. It had been sometime since I had practiced with my Illusions, but an idea occurred to me. Something I was familiar with. Something that was useful. And something that was absolutely not a weapon. At least, I doubted it could be used as one easily. And it would hit two birds with a single stone. Because we not only wanted to escape the pit, well, Muleater wanted to, but we also wanted to avoid getting immediately caught. It was becoming almost a point of professional pride, at least on my part. ¡°Illusion. Touch.¡± Concentration on the object I had in mind was easy. It helped that I remember handling them in the past, although the particulars of why I remembered them always seemed to elude me. A pole formed in my hands, metallic, cold, and longer than Muleater was tall. At the end of the pole was an angled mirror. It was similar to what security guards at checkpoints would use to examine vehicles for smuggled goods on the undercarriage. Once I had it in my hands, I tossed it to Muleater. She caught it adroitly. ¡°What?¡± she paused, giving it a look. I noticed that the mirror lacked any reflection, and I wondered if that was a failing on my part. She hefted it in her hands several times before the Illusion expired. ¡°Where¡¯d it go?¡± ¡°Sorry,¡± I said, though not all that apologetically. I then explained one of the major limitations I had found. ¡°They only last maybe twenty seconds if it¡¯s tangible.¡± ¡°Huh.¡± Muleater rubbed her chin. ¡°Guess that means we¡¯ll have to move fast. By the way, is there a reason you made a sweeper?¡± ¡°Sweeper?¡± I asked, confused by the term. It was obvious she meant the vehicle inspection mirror, but, ¡°Why call it that?¡± She shrugged, ¡°That¡¯s just what the guard calls ¡®em.¡± In a way, it made sense. If they swept under wagons and such. I doubted they used them as brooms, anyways. She continued her query, ¡°Why¡¯d you make one?¡± ¡°I was hoping to peek over the lip of the pit¡­ you know¡­ to see if the coast is clear.¡± ¡°Not a terrible idea,¡± she said. ¡°But unnecessary in this case.¡± I gave her a puzzled look. ¡°What?¡± she asked, looking askance. ¡°You mean you haven¡¯t noticed the sounds they make? They aren¡¯t exactly silent movers.¡± The clicking-clacking of high tension tendrils sliding over each other as they animated the infested? Of course I had noticed. But that was only when they were moving. ¡°They could be standing still¡­¡± I said, pointing out what I thought was an obvious hole in her logic. She snorted. ¡°I woulda heard them coming back this way. I¡¯ve been keeping track. But if you don¡¯t believe me, feel free to check with your sweeper.¡± And I did check. After I practiced creating the ¡®sweeper¡¯ multiple times to get the silvering of the mirror to actually reflect. Once I had the Illusion down, I angled it up and over the edge of the pit. A quick scan revealed that the immediate vicinity around the pit was empty. In fact, I failed to see any of the mucary at all. Of course I double checked. Then triple checked. Muleater looked smug. ¡°Now, we wait for dark.¡± After a pause, she added. ¡°And you, start practicing utility.¡± Apparently what she meant by utility was objects that might be useful in a broad range of situations. While we lacked time for me to get much practice in, by the time evening turned to night, I had gotten simple lean-to metal frame ladders down. Granted, they only lasted for twenty seconds, but they would undoubtedly be useful for people that cannot climb walls, or for surfaces that cannot be climbed. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. I was still surprised to find out that Muleater lacked the means to climb out from the pit on her own. But she had tried a few times before I had arrived, at least according to her. The ground comprising the walls was loose enough to break apart, but firm enough to not give any handholds. She suspected that magic was at play, and it made sense. If I looked at the situation sideways, the mucary were plant people, and plant people should be masters of soil. When night set in, Muleater gave me a tap on my good shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s time.¡± However, I had doubts. They had never left. But as we came nearer the point of action, of a foolhardy escape attempt, the doubts and worries grew. This went beyond pre-job jitters. Escaping was foolish, no, it was mothersworn stupid. I attempted to guide Muleater back towards reason. ¡°Are you absolutely certain?¡± I asked, and not for the first time, either. ¡°We¡¯re probably going to get caught. Then they¡¯ll probably infect us.¡± ¡°They¡¯ll do that anyway when the Crown knocks their shit in. If we¡¯re gonna get out, it needs to be now.¡± She narrowed her eyes and gave me a cautious look before continuing. I could hear her knuckles crack. ¡°And I think I already made it clear what would happen if you declined?¡± I coughed nervously. ¡°You did,¡± I said quickly to appease her. I did not need to hear those again. The threats had certainly been unwelcome, but I also took them as a sign that she lacked better means of encouragement. So far, I was going along with it to keep my options open. And because I had a feeling that Emboru was accounting for this. Somehow. I just was unsure of how. ¡°But,¡± I said slowly, ¡°What if I made a ladder for you to climb out, and I stayed behind?¡± I proposed a win-win scenario, which I hoped that Muleater accepted. She would escape, and fail, while I remained healthily behind. Of course there were still doubts, even with that plan. I knew that Emboru had placed me with Muleater for a reason¡­ was this it? I wondered. The motive failed to make sense. Muleater shook her head quickly enough that her gross and hardened hair shook free. ¡°Nuh-uh. When I get free, I¡¯m not going to be the one to tell Kate her little pet stayed behind to get eaten by the jungleborn. No. Not happening. Besides¡­ your glyphs will be useful and¡¯ll probably help. So shove some steel up your ass and let¡¯s do this!¡± I groaned in exasperation and disgust. ¡°Crude,¡± I commented. However, I did comply. For several reasons. Reasons independent of Muleater¡¯s threats, which I thought I could likely counter or circumvent. No, the reason I went along with Muleater¡¯s plan were two-fold. One, I suspected that escaping with Muleater would satisfy some manner of Emboru¡¯s plan, though I was unsure of what. It might have been a test, sure, but I thought more likely that it was meant to further ingratiate myself with Muleater. And that led to the second reason. By going along with this, I firmed up my relationship with Muleater, who I thought might have been a somewhat prominent person in human society. Her favor would likely come in handy. Other than those reasons, I also desired to see how the escape would play out. Call me a masochist, but it sounded fun¨Ceducational. ¡°Illusion,¡± I mouthed, and summoned a ladder and leaned it against the side. The clock was ticking once the ladder formed. We had less than half a minute to get out. Muleater scurried up the ladder first, clearing it with about half the time remaining. I let the ladder expire. She glanced around and leaned back over the edge, giving me a thumbs up. Apparently there still were not any mucary sentries. The security was quite lacking. But this brought us to another problem. It would take me at least a minute to climb the ladder, due to my missing arm. Since my Illusion could only last half of that, Muleater thought of a different solution. Once she was up top, and once the coast was clear, she found the very same vine ladder that the infested guards had been using, and she tossed it down. It was an awkward climb up, but she helped by hauling the ladder up using sheer muscle alone. When I was just about to the lip of the pit, she reached down and hauled me up by the scruff of my jacket, before setting me back down. I glanced around, and failed to see any mucary. Which was somewhat surprising, considering their numbers. I wondered if they retired for the evening, or if they had all been drawn out by the encroaching army. I was about to express my concerns, but Muleater interrupted my thoughts by slugging my good shoulder. ¡°Why?¡± I asked, unsure of what she was going for. She coerces me into helping her, and then expresses a negative form of camaraderie? It made me realize that I really lacked context for her. Her actions were beginning to fail to match what I expected of her. That would be problematic. I needed to figure her out. ¡°Your Illusions,¡± she said, as though that answered my question. She rolled her eyes when I was still not getting it. ¡°Still can¡¯t believe you were holding out on us,¡± she muttered. ¡°That spell could have helped us. A lot. And the missing potential! The first thing we¡¯re doing when we get back is running you through drills¡­¡± I grimaced at the possible loss in goodwill, but had nothing to refute her, at least not politely. At least she was thinking positively. And people usually did not have their ¡®pets¡¯ run drills, so that was likely a step in the correct direction, at least perception wise. But then, as we began searching our immediate area for weapons or supplies, I made an unwelcome correlation. Drills could be akin to obedience school for dogs. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (1/9)
      • Featherlight (5/9)
  • Stealth I (4/9)
    • Trackless Tracks (8/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (3/9)
    • Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (6/9)
  • Closed
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.7.2 The valley offered plenty of cover while Muleater and I snuck. The walls sloped upwards, forming a large bowl with a flatter bottom. We were currently towards the northern slope, which was the wrong end of the valley. We could have exited the valley there and gone around, but that would cost us hours, possibly days, given the fragmented nature of the terrain and the size of the valley. And given that there was cover, from artificed condensers to vertical gardens, along with mounds pushed up for tunnels, Muleater made the tactical decision to sneak through the valley. Besides, she was ¡®itching¡¯ for a weapon, or a sword. I was itching for my loot. We were creeping around one of the condenser units. The unit was like a weather vane, but with pipes running up and down and a scattering of scintillating glitter embedded on the bronze vanes. Mist was almost dripping down from the center, and drops of water condensed in a pool of water at the base. The pool was raised somewhat above ground level, so that there was about three feet of an embankment to hide behind. With the raised pool, and the broken sightlines from the weather vane¡¯s tower, we had ample space to hide. ¡°Godstake them,¡± Muleater swore in frustration. I cringed at her voice, too loud. ¡°Where d¡¯you think they put it?¡± Muleater asked, referring to her sword, gear, or really anyone¡¯s sword. I doubted she would be picky. So far, we had yet to see any signs of patrols or infested, though that did not mean we could be so careless as to converse so loudly. I put a hand on her wrist in warning and shook my head. ¡°Get off,¡± she snapped, shoving my hand off. ¡°I need a sword. Can¡¯t you use your scent tracking to find one? I thought you would have been scouting along while they took you off for your special one-on-one time, yeah?¡± I sighed, and peaked up and over the edge of the pool, verifying that we were currently safe. ¡°Why do you need a sword?¡± I asked. ¡°What do you mean, ¡®why¡¯?¡± she scoffed. ¡°How else will I defend us? Not like you¡¯re gonna be doing any fighting. Unless you¡¯re holding out still?¡± I rolled my eyes and shook my head. She had shaken everything about my Talents and Spells loose. Though I managed to avoid telling her about the Gifts. To be honest, I tried ignoring the Gifts altogether, along with their connotations. However, despite the irritation I felt at her assertion that I might have been holding out on her, I found it hard to blame her. Afterall, I had held out for most of our journey, and only recently had I revealed my Illusions. But still, she better not get used to me sharing. Unless, she thought I was sharing everything while I kept something back? It would depend on how long our partnership lasted. Thoughts for later. ¡°If we have to fight,¡± I pointed out, ¡°Then they¡¯ll bring reinforcements and we¡¯ll be outnumbered.¡± ¡°So? Better to go down swinging.¡± ¡°It¡¯s better not to go down at all,¡± I rebutted. ¡°Obviously.¡± I refrained from arguing further. I was unsure what it was about Muleater, but her priorities seemed sketchy at best. After I released a calming breath, and checked for any wayward infested once more, I pointed at a mound of dirt and broken slate that rose up from the ground. At the base of the small hill, I knew there would be a rounded tunnel that led deeper. Where it went, I was unsure. But I knew it was where my satchel had been, and I knew it was where the infested had brought the polished chest from while I was speaking to Emboru. ¡°I think it¡¯s in there,¡± I said. ¡°Alright. Why?¡± Muleater asked. As though she had not just given several reasons that I would have a clue. It was frustrating, and would be dehumanizing to point out that I had caught scent of it while on my way back to the ¡®guest-quarters¡¯ earlier that day. Because humans typically cannot detect scents, not like that. Rather than admit to it, I glared at Muleater. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. She did not shy away, rather, appeared amused. ¡°Woah, feisty cat. But if I¡¯m going to head down into that godslovin barrow, then I better know why.¡± ¡°I saw the infested carry some gear out of there.¡± Her eyes narrowed. ¡°That wasn¡¯t the truth, now was it?¡± Not the complete truth, anyways. Her ability to sniff out deceit was incredibly frustrating. I hated it. But she was not letting it go. Her knuckles cracked. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t happen to be a trap, yeah?¡± she asked suspiciously. I groaned. ¡°No, it¡¯s not a trap¨C¡± her lips tightened and I hastily added ¡°-at least not that I know of.¡± ¡°Then how¨C?¡± she started to ask. Frustrated, I just admitted to it. ¡°I caught a familiar scent trail when they brought me back.¡± She eyed me for a bit longer, and I refused to look away. My ability to track by scent was an asset, and while it still bothered me, it would be foolish to have ignored it. Finally, she nodded, then smirked. ¡°Well why didn¡¯t you just say that?¡± Inwardly, I swore. This mothersworn block head. Outwardly, I mouthed, ¡°Illusion,¡± and covered myself in a [Chameleon] effect. Muleater waved her hand through the blur and whacked my bad side. Fiery pain shot up my nerves. ¡°Idiot!¡± I snapped, after gasping. ¡°Sorry, not sorry,¡± she said. ¡°What¡¯re you doing wasting Spirit?¡± ¡°Scouting ahead,¡± I replied tersely, after a moment¡¯s breathing to calm down. ¡°You¡¯re not the sneaking type.¡± She wobbled her head a bit as though in thought, before snorting. ¡°I¡¯m not letting you run off alone.¡± ¡°You aren¡¯t the stealthy type.¡± The thought of her lumbering around besides me left me feeling partially ill. My professional pride as a thief suffered. ¡°Normally I¡¯d agree,¡± she said. ¡°But here are the facts. One, you already told me that your spell doesn¡¯t work to fool the wyrkwik.¡± I nodded along, not liking where this was going. ¡°Two, you used it while sneaking away, which leads me to believe that you were using it on me.¡± ¡°I wasn¡¯t¨C¡± I began protesting. ¡°Three, I can¡¯t guarantee that you won¡¯t pull something dumb like ratting me out. Or getting caught.¡± ¡°Your truth detection could¨C¡± ¡°And finally, if you leave, then your Trackless Tracks Talent will stop covering me. ¡°We don¡¯t even know that it covers you as is,¡± I pointed out, somewhat overwhelmed by her reasoning. ¡°Maybe not, but why risk it?¡± She pointed out. ¡°Besides, there¡¯s no wyrkwik around to spot us.¡± ¡°Not up here at least,¡± I rebutted. ¡°What happens if I need to squirrel away down there to avoid notice?¡± ¡°And what happens if they do find you?¡± Muleater snapped back, growing irritated. ¡°Look, we¡¯re wasting time. I¡¯m going with you, that¡¯s final.¡± I shuddered as a piece of me died, but in the end, I consented. At that point, I was wondering why I ever decided to go along with the plan. Besides the threats. And besides the curiosity. And besides¨C ¡°We doing this?¡± Muleater asked, dragging my by my arm towards the mound. Surprisingly enough, there were no risky encounters as we crossed the open space. I never felt any eyes upon us. Soon, we were standing before the hole in the side of the mound¡­ it was not tall enough for even me to stand. It was clear the mucary were more than happy crawling through their network, or perhaps it was their smaller members that used this particular tunnel. I could not imagine a meohr fitting through it, that was for sure. ¡°You sure it¡¯s down there?¡± Muleater asked, giving the tunnel a very dubious and concerned look. I nodded. The scent trail from my satchel was far stronger here. And while I was confident in my own abilities as a sneak, I doubted Muleater would avoid attention. ¡°Well then, no use gawking. You first,¡± Muleater said, giving me a nudge towards the descending earthen tunnel. It was pitch black a yard in, and I was forced to crawl on hand and knees. Of course, behind me, I heard Muleater grunt as she scraped along the walls and ceiling. ¡°Cramped,¡± she complained. I decided that I could not treat this like a heist, otherwise my pride would not survive. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (1/9)
      • Featherlight (5/9)
  • Stealth I (4/9)
    • Trackless Tracks (8/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (3/9)
    • Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (6/9)
  • Closed
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.7.3 We were on our hands and knees, crawling through the cramped earthen tunnels. It seemed miraculous that the walls had yet to collapse, but as I felt the ¡®dirt,¡¯ I found it at the same consistency as the walls of our guest quarters. Firm enough to hold together, but not quite hard. The scent of the mucary had grown stronger as we progressed into the tunnels. They were pitch black, without a light source, and I could only navigate by scent and touch. There was a slight air flow, but not enough to reveal anything but the fact that the tunnels had formed some manner of labyrinth. How far they stretched throughout the valley, I could only wonder. ¡°Dark down here,¡± Muleater said in a low voice. I cringed at the noise, though it was soft enough to be absorbed by the walls. Idle chatter was not conducive to stealth. Not that I rebuked her. It would only make more sound. I continued on our descent, feeling ahead, ears swiveling, nose twitching, and tail swishing. The tail swept past Muleater several times, whipping her in the face. Once, while she was following too closely, my tail apparently struck her while her mouth was open. She must have been preparing to speak, to make even more noise. ¡°Blerghh,¡± She sputtered, getting the fur off her tongue. ¡°You do that on purpose?¡± she accused. I shushed her as quietly as I could. And while she grumbled, she stopped making unnecessary noise. Though she still was moving heavily, like the brute that she was. Eventually, we came to a t-junction in the tunnel. I knew this, because I had almost rammed my head into the wall, which was the top of the ¡®T¡¯. Fortunately I felt the wall just before I would have face planted into it. Unfortunately, Muleater failed to realize that I had stopped, and she once again became far too personal with my tail, and her hand landed heavily on my ankles, bruising them, I was sure. I could tell she wanted to ask why we had stopped. But she held her tongue, perhaps worried that I had detected enemies ahead. But no, not enemies, at least not yet. I just had to determine which direction to go. To the right, the scent of the infestation was strong. That seemed the direction they most oft went. It also came with a slight breeze, just barely perceptible against the more sensitive hair follicles along my nose. To the left was stale air. I could no longer catch the scent of my satchel, and I worried that I had lost the trail somehow. But that would have been impossible, because there had been nowhere for the infested to turn off, and I knew that they had come down into the tunnel. I figured that the stench from the infested must have overpowered my satchel. And in truth, my satchel had been in the custody of the mucary long enough that it mostly smelled of them, anyways. Muleater could no longer resist, and she prompted, ¡°Well?¡± To the left, there was stale air. The infested had still used that route, but not as recently as the right. I made the decision and headed left. Resuming the course, and shaking Muleater¡¯s hand off my ankle. ¡°Why¡¯d we stop?¡± Muleater asked. ¡°Junction,¡± I whispered. ¡°Let¡¯s keep moving.¡± The tunnel stopped sloping. The walls widened. Perhaps ten yards from the junction, the floor dropped away. As I was patting the ground to feel the way through, I detected the drop before I fell. I stopped. Muleater bumped me from behind. With only one arm supporting myself, my tripod of support failed, and I found myself falling forward and down. Were I less experienced, I would have yelped. Instead, I rolled in air, using the last of my traction to summersault, attempting to put my legs below me in a crouch. The ground hit me before I finished the maneuver. Rather than landing in a crouch, I half landed on my back. Air escaped my lungs. ¡°You alive down there?¡± Muleater asked from above. Thankfully, she had not shouted it. I picked myself up. From her voice, from the length of the fall, I realized that the tunnel exited about three feet off the ground. A very short distance. I could stand and remain at a greater height than Muleater, who was still crouched within the tunnel. Of course, the fall was terrifying in the pitch black. ¡°It¡¯s a short drop,¡± I replied. The juvenile thought of pranking her had crossed my mind. I could have pulled her out and down. Or tricked her into stepping out on nothing by using a tangible Illusion. However, doing so would only burn goodwill, and could result in even more noise than she was already generating. Thus, I simply guided her down until she was standing on the floor, stretching out. ¡°Where are we?¡± she asked. I had been in the process of figuring that out myself. Or trying to. Feeling around, I found what might have been wood, and irregular shapes of softer material. I thought it might have been sacks. Which implied a storeroom, or pantry. Navigating the room by touch would take too long. We needed light. For that, I had an idea. ¡°Illusion.¡± A [Flame] flickered to life, creating a healthy orange glow with which I illuminated the room. Shelves had been carved into the walls, with planks in places to create subsections or cubbies. The planks of wood were not refined, and instead looked like pressed and dried vines. On the cubbies, were sacks and stacks and piles, from roots to artificed parts, and even a few knives and swords. Arrows were thrown into a pile on the ground nearby. Altogether, the room was approximately four hundred square feet, or about the size of a small apartment. Which was large, for a storeroom. It almost qualified as a warehouse. ¡°About time,¡± Muleater said. And then my Illusion expired, plunging us back into darkness. ¡°Gods,¡± Muleater swore. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°Sorry,¡± I whispered. We waited in silence until my Spirit restored, and we tried again. Fortunately, we found a glowstone among the supplies, which when activated, provided enough light to make my illusory flame superfluous. We spent several minutes looting. We were limited by what we could carry, and how we could carry it. There were sacks, but no bags, including my own. There were swords and belts, which allowed Muleater to arm herself. I emptied a sack and began filling it with flagons and the most edible-looking roots, though all of it seemed a bit too slimy to be appetizing. Soon, Muleater followed suit, and then we were once more crawling through the tunnels. Fortunately, Muleater turned off her glowlight, navigating by touch. She grumbled something about only seeing the south end of a north-bound kunny. I was just glad I would not need to tell her to turn it off. Because in the pitchblack tunnels, the light certainly stuck out. One obstacle we did encounter, as we made our way back towards the junction, was that Muleater¡¯s swords, as she had taken two, rubbed and scraped against the walls of the tunnel, particularly when we turned. Every time I heard the scrape, every time I heard debris slough off the walls and hit the floor, I cringed, expecting the worst to happen. Fortunately, none of the mucary heard. If we were doubly fortunate, we could make it back to the surface before we ran across any of them. I was unsure how we would even go about fighting, or fleeing, if we encountered hostile infested within the tunnels themselves. When we reached the t-junction, I immediately noticed a problem. The scent of the infested was even more recent than before, meaning they had come this way recently. I was unsure if they had been coming or going, but considering that there had been none on the surface at the last time we were up there, I thought there was a solid chance that the mucary could be in either direction. One direction led upwards towards the surface, while the other direction headed off towards the unknown. This time when we stopped, Muleater avoided running into me. ¡°What now?¡± she asked. ¡°Something came through here,¡± I said as softly as I could. ¡°All the more reason to make haste and get the godslovin¡¯ outta here!¡± She maintained a whisper volume, though she still managed to express her sense of urgency. ¡°I would, but we might be walking into them!¡± I hissed back. ¡°This is no time to freeze up! Just keep moving.¡± I wondered how long it would be until she began threatening me once more. ¡°If you don¡¯t budge then I¡¯ll be finding a new sheathe for my blade sooner than I thought,¡± she grumbled. ¡°Just give me a sec,¡± I hissed back. I lowered my nose to the floor and swept back and forth, trying to judge which way was a miniscule fresher. It was not easy, in fact, it was impossible, and were it not for other indicators, I likely would not have caught it. But with my heightened sense of hearing, I did catch it. The sounds of high tension wires snapping over themselves. It was approaching. I could not tell from which direction, I wanted to say from the entrance of the tunnels. It was muted enough to seem omnidirectional. Or, a thought occurred to me, it was coming from both directions. ¡°Back,¡± I hissed, scrambling backwards until my rear was against Muleater¡¯s face. ¡°Get back!¡± She spat fur onto the ground. ¡°Wha¨C¡± she started. ¡°Just do it!¡± I insisted. She obliged, crawling backwards. The clicks were approaching. I finally determined that they were coming from the deeper end of the tunnel. They had yet to arrive at the junction, and my sole hope was that they would turn towards the surface. I pushed further back. The clicks, which in the complete darkness almost reminded me of insects chittering, were close enough that I froze, for fear of creating vibrations. My tail swept against Muleater¡¯s head and held still. She moved a bit further, not catching the hint. But as she moved, and I remained stationary, she realized what the game was, and she finally stopped. But was it too late? I hoped not. Motherswear the brute, but I hoped. I felt the familiar burn on my right arm. Something had changed. A fire swept up through my veins. A new glyph burnt itself onto my flesh as the living mark updated.
  • Trackless Tracks (9/9) (+1) -> Trackless Tracks I (1/9)
  • Area Coverage (1/9)
I had no chance to see what changed, not without any light, and I would be a fool to create any additional indicators. So as the mark seared itself upon my arm, I remained still, hardly breathing, listening to the approaching infested, listening to Muleater¡¯s heavier breaths, and hoping to avoid detection. Seconds passed. The infested approached the t-junction. And then they grew fainter and fainter. They were heading towards the surface. I let a minute pass before I even considered moving from our spot. However, I still heard them. They were still in the tunnel heading up. They must have been moving, as I heard them. But they were not growing quieter nor louder. It was as though they were treading in place. Perhaps digging, fortifying, or otherwise performing maintenance on the tunnel. Or perhaps they were caving it in, blocking our path, trapping us. Or perhaps they were solely standing guard. Any number of possibilities ran through my head. At the end of the moment though, it mattered not why they chose to linger. What mattered is that they did, and our means of escape was currently unavailable. In the softest voice possible, I relayed my observations to Muleater. ¡°They gone?¡± she asked. ¡°They linger by the entrance,¡± I explained. ¡°Well, gods,¡± she swore. ¡°The tunnel goes somewhere else, yeah? We know there are other entrances.¡± ¡°You want to go deeper?¡± I asked. ¡°Not like we¡¯ve got much of a choice, unless you think you can take the wyrkwik in these quarters. I know I sure can¡¯t.¡± There was scarce enough room to draw a sword, let alone swing one. She was proposing to head deeper into the tunnels, into the unknown. And while it seemed like our only recourse, we actually had other options. ¡°We could wait,¡± I offered instead. ¡°And give ¡®em the initiative? No.¡± ¡°Or we could lure them into the storage chamber?¡± ¡°That only works if they follow suit, and if there aren¡¯t reinforcements. For all we know, they could hold the tunnel and wait for more. Then we¡¯d be trapped. It¡¯s better to keep moving,¡± she explained. If it were solely me, I would likely find an alcove to hide in. But that was the way I operated. I avoided fights, preferring trickery and stealth to violence. I could not imagine Muleater staying still for long, nor hiding when an enemy was near. So at the end, I had to hand it to her, that her plan was likely the best, at least for her. For me, not so much. However, I doubted I could sneak past her, or away from her. At least not in a way that profited me at the moment. ¡°Alright,¡± I agreed. Despite my hesitation, despite my judgment, I progressed deeper into the tunnels. Who knows, I thought. I might just find my satchel. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (1/9)
      • Featherlight (5/9)
  • Stealth I (4/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (1/9)
      • Area Coverage (1/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (3/9)
    • Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (6/9)
  • Closed
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.7.4 The tunnels continued seemingly forever. They were near uniform in texture, in diameter, but they twisted in direction. We had passed the t-junction and were heading deeper into the subterranean complex, though perhaps the term ¡®complex¡¯ implies a level technological sophistication which was absent. What was present, was a seemingly unending series of tunnels and branches carved through the dirt. If we had found our ways into an ant-farm, I would not be unsurprised. In fact, that analogy, I felt, was rather fitting. I had no clue where we were headed. On one hand, I could follow the strongest mucary scent and possibly reach the surface. On the other hand, following that scent might also run me face first into a dead-end. Worst case scenario would be crossing paths with an infested, with Muleater trapping me from behind. The decision, when phrased like that, should have been simple: avoid the infested. However, in reality it was not so simple. We wanted to extricate ourselves from the tunnels first and foremost. So, when we reached the second forking path after the t-junction, once more I had to make a decision. One direction smelled strongly of the infested. The other direction, the idling clicking of high tension tendrils, of possible mandibles, a chattering susurrous that informed me of their location; I knew they were waiting, not too far from the fork, but why there were, I could only assume. Naturally, I chose the direction away from the idling plant zombies. Unnaturally, this continued happening. Once could be a coincidence, but thrice? No. ¡°They¡¯re herding us,¡± I said, relaying these thoughts to Muleater as we continued. ¡°Gods take the bastards! You led us into a trap?¡± Muleater swore, then scolded me. As though she had never consented to entering the tunnels to find her swords and supplies. It had practically been her idea, I inwardly seethed. ¡°You wanna lead?¡± I asked brusquely, borrowing the humans¡¯ slang to help convey both my immediacy and irritation. ¡°No,¡± she glowered. ¡°But I can¡¯t hear shit. You sure they¡¯re actually there?¡± She asked. While the clicking was faint, almost inaudible, once I identified the sound I could hardly hear anything else. More worrisome, I failed to pick up any intent from their scent. I was blind to their motives, and I worried what Emboru would do when they caught me. ¡°Oh, they¡¯re there,¡± I said plainly. If she chose to ignore what was plain as day, then that was on her. I knew she had some enhanced senses though. She must. How had she not noticed the susurrous clicking? Thankfully, she decided to listen to me. ¡°Shit,¡± she swore crudely. After a pause, she grunted, ¡°May as well see where the bastards are leading us. Just be ready to spring a trap. So long as there¡¯s space, we can fight. Got it?¡± I understood what she wanted, but I doubted conditions would be so conducive. ¡°What if there isn¡¯t space?¡± I asked. ¡°What if they lead us to another prison? Or worse?¡± She spat. ¡°Then it is what it is. Do your best. It¡¯s both our hides on the line.¡± I guessed that was one way to look at it. We continued onward, deeper into the tunnel network, until I had lost all sense of direction. I considered turning us around, I really did. But either I had begun experiencing auditory hallucinations, or the clicking was behind us as well. Coming closer. Coming for us. Approaching. It was almost maddening. Except¡­ I reminded myself that I was somewhat allied with them. Except, I was unsure if that alliance was formalized, and if escape attempts fell within the expected terms. I was somewhat nervous. The tunnels began to widen. The scent shifted, from one of labor, to one of perplexity. If I were to make a comparison of the feelings the scents inspired, it would be from one of manual humdrudgery to one of scholastic pursuits. It was notable. It was growing in intensity. ¡°There¡¯s something ahead of us,¡± I whispered in the most hushed voice I could muster. ¡°What is? The trap?¡± Muleater asked. ¡°Don¡¯t know, but maybe?¡± ¡°Should I take the lead then?¡± Muleater asked. ¡°Does it open up ahead? Crown, I hope so.¡± I was still blind in the tunnels, but if the trend continued¡­ I said, ¡°Maybe. But not yet.¡± She considered it a bit, before stating, ¡°There¡¯s not enough room for me to get past you.¡± She was right. I would need to practically embed myself within the walls to make enough room for her to pass. And I was unsure if a fight was what waited for us, anyways, even if it were possible. ¡°Want me to scout ahead?¡± I asked. ¡°You up for it?¡± Muleater asked. Then, she seemed to realize something else. ¡°Wait. How do I know you won¡¯t run off?¡± ¡°Run where?¡± I scoffed. ¡°Crown loves me if I know,¡± she said. ¡°Just¡­ I¡¯m blind down here.¡± ¡°Look,¡± I said in the most conciliatory tone I could take, ¡°You know I¡¯m not a fighter. If a fights ahead of us, you know I¡¯ll come back for you.¡± ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s true. But what if it¡¯s not a fight. If you run or hide?¡± She shuddered, not finishing her thought. I sighed. It seemed that this conversation was repeating itself, over and over again. And I could hardly blame someone for distrusting me. Mother knows I would too. So I could understand, I could emphasize. Not that I liked it. ¡°You want a guarantee then?¡± I asked. I was skeptical that I could give anything she agreed with, but I offered all the same. ¡°Maybe?¡± She said thoughtfully. Likely, she considered all of the things that would never work. What would I even give? I had nothing, nothing except my word. Finally, she voiced, ¡°No. But if you cross me, you¡¯ll regret it. I¡¯m your only ticket outta here, unless you plan on going feral.¡± ¡°Got it. No, I won¡¯t betray you. I¡¯m a city girl, through and through¡­¡± I said, perhaps revealing more than I should have. But the last thing I wanted was for her to make a scene and draw undue attention because of her doubts. We had to keep moving. If she was to be found out, it would be from my doing, and not random chance. ¡°Then go,¡± she finally decided. ¡°Be back quick. Or else¡­¡± I tried not to think of all the ways she could ruin this as I crept forward, leaving Muleater behind, and taking care that each step landed surely and quietly. Stealth I (5/9) +1 Soon, the tunnel was large enough for me to crouch. I continued creeping forward. I could still hear Muleater breathing from where I left her. How I ever thought that we could avoid detection, I would never know. Because even while I was ten feet away, in a pitch black tunnel, I still knew exactly where she was. The tunnel turned, then turned upwards, and soon I found myself approaching a dimly lit space. It was bright enough that I could now see my hand in front of my face. I heard a shuffling. What sounded like papers. If not for the earthen walls, and the subterranean nature of the place, I would almost say it sounded like I approached someone¡¯s office. Which was concerning, because I had a feeling that there was only a single creature among the mucary that would bother having an office. So either this was that creature, or there was another party of interest. And unknown parties of interest were always dangerous. I needed to find out more. I kept going. Coming around the final corner, I found the space, the library-like office. It was as large as the storeroom had been, but the ceilings were much higher, maybe capping at above ten feet. The floor was pressed earth, the ceiling was pressed earth, and I knew that this little pocket of space should in no way be structurally stable, as there were no vertical supports that I could see. Unless the bookshelves counted. And there were a substantial number of bookshelves. They were made of dried and compressed vines, and they were filled with tomes, scrolls, and what I could only consider to be artificed knick-knacks. Some of it must have been valuable. The room, or rather the study, was lit by a single lamp towards the center, where a table stood to about my clavicle. Only a single creature could find such a table comfortable without a stool, and only a single creature could require such a spacious ceiling to stand without crouching. But if that creature were here, then there must be a second exit, one large enough for them to traverse. And I knew that creature could somehow reach this study, because they were standing at the table with their tulip-like heads tilted over the table, where they were examining a flattened scroll, which might have been a map. Emboru was here, and they had yet to notice me, or if they had noticed my arrival, then they had yet to show it. Their presence created something of a problem. Because while I was confident that I could sneak around, especially given the spacious yet crowded room, I knew that Muleater would never manage. She would be found out in an instant. To make matters more interesting, near Emboru, on the table, there was another set of items. Items that I deeply cared for: One of them, the polished chest with the grimoire that could return me to a human state. Two, my satchel. Without a doubt, I had been funneled here for a reason. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. But what was that reason? What should I do to avoid causing offense? Should I prove my skills by absconding with the goods out from under their nose? Should I prove my loyalty to the mucary by selling Muleater out? Or was this a test of character, to see if I followed through with Muleater. Though, why would they test my loyalty to their enemies, I could not fathom. Divining Emboru¡¯s motive seemed impossible. But what I did know was that the rest of my gear was right there on the table. That a grimoire that could potentially return me to a human, was right there on that table. Nearly on autopilot, as an automaton trained from infanthood to steal and thieve, I crept forward, silently, keeping a series of shelves between Emboru and I. Ten feet from my objective. Then five. I needed to hurry if I were to return to Muleater before she did something stupid. I could always use her as a distraction though, when she inevitably acts out or gets discovered. I was now near enough to the table that I could dart in and acquire my bag. But I wanted that grimoire containing chest too, and it was big enough, awkward enough, that I would need a bit more time to abscond with it. At least if I wished to do so silently. Which I did. While I took seconds to ponder, I saw the map that Emboru studied on the table. It seemed to be one of the world, or at least the continent. But she focused on the far western corner of it, where colorful script spelled ¡°Treasured Sands.¡± Of course I failed to recognize the location, but the rainbow hued dunes were artfully drawn. After scanning my surroundings, I was still uncertain on what to do. Indecision leads to death! What was my mission? But it was not a simple extraction. There were too many variables to consider. This went beyond what I was practiced with. Were I uncouth, I might have pulled my hair in frustration. Did I even want my satchel? It likely still contained the egg, the tools I had stolen, and it would likely make my life easier, or at least richer. But if I took it with me to the human encampment, there was a chance the humans would confiscate my goods. It was not an impossible that was impossible to overcome, afterall, I could hide the goods and retrieve them later. It would not have been my first smuggling. Though there was no guarantee the smuggling would succeed. I would need to have the opportunity to retrieve the goods after, while avoiding monitoring. And from my previous experiences traveling with humans¡­ I shuddered at the de-humanizing experience. Which brought up another concern. Did I even want to travel with Muleater to the human encampment? They would treat me as subhuman property at best. Why did I even want to travel with Muleater? Maybe she would make a suitable sacrifice to the grimoire¡¯s ritual? No, I resisted that idea. That was a fate Muleater did not deserve. And besides, I had been leveraging my relationship with her quite nicely. I was certain it would pay dividends soon. So, I once again reaffirmed my decision to continue traveling with the humans. But then, the biggest, most glaring issue: I had literally been funneled here, where Emboru was, where my satchel was, where the grimoire was. In no imaginable or believable way was this encounter unorchestrated. I made my decision, and stood, brushing myself off. I caught the scent of pleased amusement. Emboru asked. In reality, they communicated several concurrent scents carried at once. I had improved in parsing their version of speech, though it still remained difficult. ¡°Why am I here?¡± I asked in a low voice, worried that Muleater would somehow hear me, revealing my potential treachery. Emboru seemed even more amused than before. ¡°But¡­ but why are you letting us? I don¡¯t understand.¡± After a pause, they elaborated somewhat. That was not foreboding at all. I had spent a lot of time trying to figure out their angle, and I thought I had a fairly good idea on what they were after. ¡°You want me to ingratiate myself with the humans, beginning with Muleater as she is something of an authority figure in Southbridge. From there, I should look for signs of a captive mucary, or rather, your sibling¡­¡± I took that to mean that I had guessed successfully. However, this was my chance to learn more, to fill out my model for Emboru and the mucary. ¡°But I have questions,¡± I said, tentatively, worried how they would respond. I almost breathed in relief. But instead, I pushed forward. ¡°How will I get paid for this?¡± I asked. Not only was this pertinent, but considering how they responded would help me better understand them. I snorted. ¡°I can¡¯t just walk out with them.¡± ¡°No¡­¡± I said, before sighing. This was far from ideal, and would rely on some measure of trust for these alien creatures. ¡°The humans will take them if they see, and I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ll have the ability to smuggle them back. Not with Muleater, at least. The last time I traveled with humans, it was in a cage.¡± Was I still undergoing a test? Or were they just saying that? If it was the former, then what happened if I failed the test? I decided to voice more of my thoughts. ¡°I had other concerns as well. The grimoire will transform me into a human. But if that were the case, then I would lose all the goodwill I have already built with them, and it would be as though I were a stranger.¡± ¡°I could change back and forth then?¡± ¡°Another concern. My arm.¡± I waved my stump. ¡°I can¡¯t just regrow it without raising concerns. The more I think about this, the more the job fails to make sense. Either it was poorly assembled, or there is something significant that I¡¯m missing.¡± I exhaled heavily. ¡°That¡¯s the end of the test then?¡± I asked to confirm. ¡°You¡¯ll tell me what you¡¯re planning?¡± I heard approaching scrapes and breathing from the far end of the study, from the tunnel I had entered. For a second, I worried. With that, Emboru strode towards the far end, the gell of her flesh muting most of the clicks, though it was still somewhat audible. For a second, I watched Emboru leave, they were much faster than their bulk would imply. Delay the human, they had said? I could do that. I turned and snuck back towards Muleater to keep appearances. When I approached near enough, I hissed at her. She stopped in her tracks, just at the entrance to the study. Likely, she realized the danger she was in. Or she was unsure, finding that creatures besides humans could read. Possibly both. If that was what she was thinking though, she never admitted to it. Instead, she shout whispered back. ¡°What kept you?¡± she hissed at me. ¡°I thought I heard you talking with one?¡± I grimaced. So she had heard bits of the conversation. ¡°I don¡¯t fully understand why we were led here, but their boss was here. And yes, we talked.¡± ¡°What did it say?¡± ¡°It was a test, maybe?¡± Muleater narrowed her eyes. I hurried, ¡°Look, I don¡¯t understand either. I¡¯m still confused.¡± Perhaps that was the reason that Emboru never explained. So that I could honestly pass Muleater¡¯s test. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you wait for me to come back?¡± I said, trying to change the subject. ¡°They¨Cthe creatures¨Cthey heard you coming. Before I could find out their game.¡± ¡°Pfft,¡± she scoffed. ¡°I¡¯m not about to trust you with them..¡± She was still worried about betrayal then. I also inferred, perhaps slightly, that she was worried for my safety. Afterall, I was an asset for her and her escape. ¡°What is this place?¡± Muleater asked, sheathing her blade and giving the study a go-over. ¡°These things can read?¡± I knew it! ¡°Apparently,¡± I said dryly, restraining my humor. I started to say more, except from the way we had come, I began to hear the familiar clicking of approaching infested. Emboru must have disliked us rummaging through their study. ¡°They¡¯re coming,¡± I pointed out. ¡°We need to go.¡± Muleater tsked, running her finger over the map. ¡°Think they¡¯re planning on expanding?¡± The clicking grew louder. I did not need to fake the concern in my voice. If the infested caught up to us, then I would possibly share whatever fate Muleater suffered, if only just to keep appearances. It meant we likely would have our lives spared, but I doubted that fate would be pleasant. ¡°Back to herding us then.¡± Muleater gestured me forward. ¡°Lead the way.¡± She had a suspicious tone to her voice, not that I blamed her. I hurried towards the exit, the very same that Emboru had just used, one that was large enough to walk comfortably. Muleater followed, still wary, but lacking other, better, choices. As we left the study, I passed one last longing look back towards my satchel, and back towards the chest. I hated trusting anyone, especially one that I failed to comprehend or understand. The tunnel sloped upwards and held no forks. We found no signs of Emboru, though I doubted we would. They were traveling much faster than us, and they had a head start. A light was coming from up ahead. The orange glow of reflected oil pit fires against the perpetual overcast sky. It was still night, but even night was brighter than the tunnels. We emerged from the tunnel, from another burrow-like mound, towards the southern end of the valley. Muleater was blinking her eyes against the light. We kept to the side of the burrow, to obstruct our sightlines, just in case the infested had somehow yet to see us. Though we saw none. ¡°They¡¯re playing with us,¡± Muleater spat. I nodded silently. ¡°Fine. Godslovin monsters. You ready to run?¡± She said, more than asked. I was ready to rest. I was exhausted from the tunnels, from the stress, the strain. Muleater saw my wavering commitment to our escape. She did not seem to care for my consent. But that was nothing new. Impatient with my delay, she crouched down and quickly swept me off my feet into a princess carry. ¡°But if we need to fight, I¡¯m dropping ya.¡± Muleater took a deep breath, and then moved. The crater around us was a blur as she sprinted. My bad side was jolting with every step. I winced against the pain, but refused to add to the noise of her heavy footsteps. She climbed up the crater. We still had yet to encounter sentries. Looking back the way we came, I still failed to see any infested. We passed the lip of the valley, and then we were coming down the other side. Muleater slowed her reckless sprint into a jog. One that still jolted my wounds. In the distance, there were the campfires marking the human camp, and marking ¡®safety.¡¯ ¡°We¡¯re almost home,¡± Muleater said. I continued having mixed feelings about this so-called home. But with Muleater still carrying me, it was not as though I could separate and slink away, even if I wanted to. This forced me to commit to team human, at least superficially. ¡°It¡¯s still a ways away,¡± I pointed out. ¡°Much closer than it had been,¡± she pointed out. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t have survived our journey through the wastes as we are. You can see in the dark, yeah?¡± Hesitant to admit to anything further, but knowing that Muleater was simply asking a question she already knew the answer to, I nodded. ¡°Good. Keep your eyes peeled for pits. I go down, you go down.¡± And with that, she continued carrying me, jogging forward, each step jarring me. We would soon meet the human army. I would soon go back to being glorified property at best. I regretted going with Muleater. But it was what Emboru had planned. But why? I had so many questions. I was somewhat glad when my arm began burning, drawing me out of a downward spiral of anxiety and trying to understand seemingly tautological motives. Featherlight: 6/9 (+1) Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (1/9)
      • Featherlight (6/9) (+1)
  • Stealth I (5/9) (+1)
    • Trackless Tracks I (1/9)
      • Area Coverage (1/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (3/9)
    • Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (6/9)
  • Closed
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.8.1 While Muleater carried me across the shattered landscape, away from the mucary, towards the human encampment, I found myself in somewhat of a numb and shocked state. We had escaped. They had let us escape. And tribulations were ahead of me, of this, I was certain. We spent hours traveling. Even with Muleater¡¯s quick pace, the human encampment was far off, and the terrain was broken, forcing us to navigate around erudite boulders, climb across chasms, and avoid slopes composed of broken shale. The night passed. The perpetual overcast began to brighten. Dawn passed. Still Muleater pushed forward. It was midday when the human encampment was within sight once again. The encampment also noticed us. It began with a sentry calling out an alarm, just barely audible with the distance between us. ¡°Approaching unknowns! Two! Humanoids!¡± The seemingly broken shouts revealed several things about the encampment. They were professional enough to have sentries, which was common sense this close to an enemy fortification. But they also had shorthand that apparently worked. From the distance, I was unable to see the details of their uniforms, but they were relatively clean, with black jackets, trousers, and boots, complemented by red trim. They had some sort of decorative patch sewn in to the left lapels of their jackets, but I was unable to make out the design just yet. That did not prevent Muleater, though. She apparently recognized enough to call it. ¡°Why¡¯s Princess Marissa out here?¡± she grumbled, not even close to being out of breath, even after the hours spent carrying me at a rapid pace. She slowed down after the sentry shouted the alarm, and now was walking calmly. I wiggled a bit until she set me down, and I followed alongside her, moving under my own power. It would make a better first impression if I moved under my own power: it would demonstrate a level of independence, which I hoped would carry forward. Also, in the slime chance that a fight broke out, I did not want her dropping me. The camp had begun to buzz with activity after the sentry¡¯s call. A group of soldiers had formed up in front of the camp, led by another soldier who wore additional decorations on his lapels, and a short cylindrical cap upon his head. We were still a ways off, maybe a mile out. They seemed to organize and fortify their position, with their possible-officer shouting at them to, ¡°Hold ready!¡± ¡°Seems decent enough,¡± Muleater said. ¡°Wonder why they haven¡¯t broken camp yet. They could make the valley by tomorrow.¡± She must have been thinking out loud; I decided not to bother replying. Afterall, I did not actually want the humans to obliterate the mucary. They still had my gear, and they would be unable to deliver upon their promise if they were obliterated. An emphasis on the ¡®if.¡¯ After traveling in the underground warren the infested kept, I had doubts that they could be rooted out. Although their infrastructure could certainly be sabotaged, which might make their logistics difficult. I was lost in my thoughts when I heard it, a change in the wind. Across the shattered wastes, the wind was always a constant whistle. It might pick up here and there, but it was always the same kind of whistle. But this¡­ it sounded like a ¡®whoosh,¡¯ ¡®whoosh,¡¯ ¡®woosh.¡¯ It was growing louder. It was almost like an oversized bird? I was just starting to look up when Muleater¡¯s heavy hand landed on my bad shoulder, forcing me to stop. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Wait,¡± was all Muleater said. She squinted her eyes as she watched the sky above. A shadow formed on the ground before us. There was a final ¡®whoosh.¡¯ Something large landed, displacing a gust of air that pushed dust into my squinting eyes. ¡°Shit,¡± Muleater said, catching on to whatever it was that landed first. I rubbed at my eyes, trying to regain visibility so that I would be ready to drop an Illusion and flee, or at least to determine if such action were required. ¡°Name yourself,¡± a domineering male voice rang out from above. The speaker was at least a head taller than Muleater, and he was facing us. Likely he had been the one to drop out of the sky. ¡°Lieutenant Janet Muleater, Lower Knight, Cityway Company dash Zero Zero Five, Southbridge,¡± Muleater snapped off, pounding her chest in salute. ¡°Your companion?¡± the male asked. I finally cleared up my watering eyes. The speaker was indeed a male. He wore a white overcoat with a red gavel on his left lapel. His undershirt was black, and gaudily enough, there was gold thread tying it all together. Most notably however, were the shadows cast from his back. He had wings. Huge, gigantic, wings. They might have been gray and black like a molting pigeon, but they were broad enough to presumably carry the man through flight. Even with him folding them up behind them, tucked away as much as they possibly could be, they were still massive. It was distracting, and I almost missed Muleater¡¯s response to his question. ¡°An unlicensed kunbeorn that we claimed in our travels. She and another kunny were with us when we were captured by the wyrkwik.¡± ¡°And you are still¡­ hale and healthy?¡± he asked, eyeing both Muleater and myself with suspicion. The armed party of soldiers was about halfway towards us. If I were to make an escape, it would be now. But running now, of all times, would be absolute folly. I had made my decision, and I had to stay the course. Doing otherwise would jeopardize my position with the humans even further. ¡°Yes, Inquisitor.¡± Oh. Inquisitor? I had heard humans refer to inquisitors prior, and never with positive connotations. Why was he here? Was it for me, because I was ¡®Godsmarked?¡¯ No. I could not allow myself to think that. I had never confirmed that I had been in contact with any god. And if the Inquisitor was to deploy a truth spell, then I needed to be able to truthfully say that I was not. I needed to believe that. Because it was true. ¡°Very well,¡± he said, considering us. Every so often, I felt waves of something washing off of him, and Muleater sensed it as well, judging by how she tensed or flinched every time. I could only wonder what he was doing, what he was seeing. I wished I had been given telepathy by my markings. Because as it was, I could only watch a complete stranger make unknown observations while rendering judgements affecting myself, and all while they obeyed foreign motivations. I hated it. I also wondered if this man was some sort of kunbeorn as well, as he had animal features, namely, the wings. If so, then why would he judge me so harshly? Did he know something else? The amount of questions was maddening! Nearer than before, the soldiers were nearly upon us, marching with haste and purpose. When they reached shouting distance, he called out to them, issuing orders, and confirming that he had been given some form of authority. ¡°Ho there,¡± he said, waving them near. ¡°They are non-hostile, but also unverified. Take the lieutenant to command,¡± he said. The soldier wearing the cylindrical hat, the same who seemed to be leading the soldiers, nodded, ¡°Yes, Inquisitor. And the kunny?¡± The Inquisitor narrowed his eyes at me once more, and I felt another wave of energy stretch out from him and chill my skin. Goosebumps prickled and my fur stood up. ¡°Bind the beast and accompany it to my working quarters.¡± Muleater grimaced slightly. I turned to her for help. She caught my eye, and gave a minuscule shake of the head. ¡°Be good,¡± she said in a low voice. As the soldiers closed in around me, I gulped, wondering if it was not too soon to flee. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (1/9)
      • Featherlight (6/9)
  • Stealth I (5/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (1/9)
      • Area Coverage (1/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (3/9)
    • Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (6/9)
  • Closed
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.8.2 As the soldiers closed in around me, I noticed details. Their insignia was a gavel-like hammer, sewn in red upon the left lapels of their black jackets. The very same insignia that the Inquisitor bore. I assumed that these were the Inquisitor¡¯s personal command. The soldiers were predominantly men, but there were women among their number as well. They appeared even harsher than the men did, with cracked and weather worn faces. The wear and tear of a life of travel, or of someone that spent most of their time outdoors. When they closed in, one of them retrieved a black collar and finely wrought chains, both made from a matte black material that clinked. One of the women stepped forward, slotting out the artificed pin-like key from the collar, and holding it out at my neck height. The soldier looked upon me expectantly. I felt a knee-jerk reaction to resist. But now that I had been surrounded, I had no chance of making a clean escape. A failure to cooperate now would only burn whatever amount of trust and goodwill I had garnered. With a twinge of self-loathing, I slowly stepped into the collar and lifted my chin, lowered my shoulders, and felt the cold metal snap locked around my neck. Unpleasant weakness swept through me. My Marks had been sealed. The soldier with the chains came next. ¡°Arms,¡± he grunted. I shrugged an empty sleeve. He gazed upon me with a dispassionate air. To him, I was not a person. Just a portion of his duties. A potentially hazardous material to be sorted and dealt with. Since I had met humans in this world, I had grown somewhat used to the treatment. ¡°Place it to your side, then,¡± he ordered. Without much other choice, I complied, though I kept an eye upon the pin-like key that the female soldier had collected, and I only paid enough attention to the man and the chains to tilt my arm sideways, so that the wider portion of the wrist was perpendicular to my waist. It would not allow me much slack, but more than anything else. The man finished wrapping my arm to my side, before sliding a padlock between the links to lock the chain in place. Ordinarily, a chain would fall, or could be wiggled out of. This one almost felt elastic though, always tightening, but never strangling. It was an odd, very odd material. As the soldiers finished restraining me, the Inquisitor called them to attention. ¡°Status,¡± the Inquisitor said in his firm baritone. ¡°Finished securing the prisoner,¡± the female soldier remarked. ¡°Sealed and bound.¡± ¡°Muzzle?¡± he prompted, not even sparing a glance towards me, rather focusing upon Muleater. He was frowning, in disapproval. Had Muleater done something that I had missed? The female soldier glanced back at the soldier that had brought the bindings. They both exchanged winces. ¡°Is it¡­ uhm, necessary, sir?¡± the female asked. The officer amongst the soldiers, the man wearing the cap, bit his lips. After a pause, ¡°Yes,¡± the Inquisitor answered. ¡°Is there an issue?¡± He frowned, but still not taking his eyes off Muleater. ¡°Also¨Cconfiscate this woman¡¯s swords. I cannot believe I have to order this. It should have already been accomplished.¡± The female soldier glared at the one with the kit bag, and the officer with the cap grimaced further. After a silent conversation amongst the soldiers and the officer, the officer sighed. ¡°It appears,¡± the officer said, ¡°That our gear has been pilfered or improperly stocked.¡± ¡°That¡­ is unfortunate,¡± the Inquisitor said. ¡°Watch the creature¡¯s teeth then. It may carry diseases.¡± Muleater coughed, ¡°Sir, I can attest¨C¡± ¡°-Yes, I am certain you may collude with your pet. Unless you wish to be gagged as well, lieutenent, you will remain silent for the duration of this march.¡± ¡°Yes, Inquisitor,¡± Muleater said, snapping a halfhearted salute. Despite the Inquisitor¡¯s wings, he accompanied us back towards camp. He marched towards the front, trusting his soldiers to keep pace behind him. Muleater marched ahead of me, flanked by two soldiers, and I was flanked with two more. I continued taking in all the details I could. Belts laden with purses, pockets with non-uniform line-breaks, and the small breast-pocket where the officer had collected the key to my collar. I would not be losing track of that, at least not if I could help it. As we went, I tried catching Muleater¡¯s eye the one time she glanced over her shoulder my way, but the soldiers flanking me called out the indiscretion, and she was snapped at to keep her eyes forward. The rest of the walk was uneventful, except I struggled to keep up and had to be partially supported. One of the side-effects of having my Marks sealed: everything felt much heavier. Within another quarter of an hour, we had reached the periphery of the camp, where jagged slate rocks had been piled up in an odd attempt of a bulwark. Sentries were stationed every fifty feet around the camp, and short towers had been erected at each corner of the ¡®walls.¡¯ And while I wanted to describe the mounds of sharp and unstable stone as walls, they only came to three or four feet tall. I supposed they were more to break a charge than anything. As we neared the entrance, where a gap in the ¡®walls¡¯ stood, several soldiers gathered from inside the camp, along with the sentries. Another officer hailed the Inquisitor. ¡°Ho, what has the inquisition returned with?!¡± the officer shouted. He jumped upon a wooden pedestal near the entrance to gain a better look at both Muleater, then myself. I could not help but notice his smirk as he saw me. ¡°Has the bird brought back his prey, or has a cat dragged back the bird?¡± Several of the soldiers chortled at the atrocious and irreverent humor. The Inquisition looked on with hard faces, and the Inquisitor remained impassive. ¡°Will you challenge us on today¡¯s codes?¡± The Inquisitor demanded. ¡°Depends,¡± the officer shot back. ¡°Will you write us up if we don¡¯t?¡± This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. After a pause, the inquisitor answered, ¡°Yes. Procedures exist for a reason.¡± ¡°Ha! That tells me alone it¡¯s you. Head on in and show your guests around.¡± While I observed, I felt surprised that the soldiers would treat the Inquisitor with such disrespect, when Muleater and the soldiers with the gavel had walked warily around him. Was this typical behavior? For some reason, I doubted it. The Inquisitor had been called a bird¨Cwas this another example of discrimination against non-humans then? I thought, perhaps, yes. It might have also been a departmental rivalry. The soldiers within the camp wore a purple flower of some kind for a sigil. I wanted to ask who that represented, but I had no chance before I was nudged forward to keep walking. I could always find out later. We headed through a central avenue between the tents towards the center, when we were intercepted once again, this time by familiar faces. ¡°Aunt Janet!¡± Kate shouted, rushing towards us and ignoring the foul glare from the Inquisitor. ¡°You¡¯re¨Cyou¡¯re alive!¡± Kate was sweaty, and carried a wooden practice sword. Because of course she had found a chance to spar and practice her bladework while in a war camp. Following Kate, came Gregory. Notably, he was not sweaty, but instead carried a travelworm book. Muleater only had eyes for Kate, however, and ignored Gregory completely. Upon seeing her niece, Muleater allowed a gasp, almost a sob of relief, to pass. ¡°You made it¡­ I wasn¡¯t sure, but praise the Crown you did.¡± ¡°Yeah! We found Princess Marissa¡¯s army as we escaped. We were not about to trek all the way back home without supplies. Isn¡¯t that right?¡± Kate asked, slapping Gregory and sending his smaller body stumbling forward. Gregory winced, barely catching his book from falling. While Muleater and Kate caught up, the Inquisitor was ill amused. His lips grew tighter and tighter, until finally he seemed to be able to stand it no more, and he snapped his wings, sending a miniature shockwave of, drawing our attention, and silencing the humans. ¡°Touching,¡± he sneered. ¡°But we have business to attend. Stand aside, Sir Kate.¡± ¡°What¡­ what sort of business?¡± Kate asked, suddenly somewhat nervous. ¡°The inquisitorial kind,¡± he said. Kate opened her mouth, about to protest, but another spoke first. ¡°Let them have the moment, would you?¡± A new voice said in a lilting, feminine voice. It was a woman in a travel dress, with long riding boots covering her visible ankles. The dress itself screamed wealth, with an immaculate thread count, but there was little else in the way of finery. Just a fine gray dress, with an amethyst encrusted brooch of a lily pinned to her breast. Her eyes were chocolate, her skin dusted and tan, and her hair black. ¡°Lady Trigg,¡± the Inquisitor said. ¡°We must verify that Lieutenant Muleater is clear of all taint and suspicion. She may have colluded with the wyrkwik.¡± The woman, Lady Trigg, apparently, rolled her eyes and sashayed forward, stopping just inches from Muleater, practically nose to nose. ¡°Then let us settle the matter quickly,¡± Lady Trigg said, smiling, sharing Muleater¡¯s air. ¡°Are you who you said you are?¡± Lady Trigg asked. Kate tried answering, but Lady Trigg held a gloved finger to cover Kate¡¯s mouth, sending Kate into a sputtering silence. ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am,¡± Muleater answered, though seemingly uncomfortable with the near proximity of the woman. Lady Trigg¡¯s smile broadened, and she continued. ¡°Were you infested or infected or somehow bearing animated plantlife anywhere upon you?¡± Kate looked horrified at the possibility, and began to protest, but Muleater beat her to it. ¡°No, ma¡¯am,¡± Muleater answered once more. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Lady Trigg tapped her chin dramatically, before shrugging. ¡°She¡¯s clean.¡± ¡°But she could have foiled your skill!¡± the Inquisitor growled, protesting. ¡°We have more accurate tests to perform. Infestation is no slight matter. A slightest bit of rot can quickly spread, should it not be burnt out. Just look at the jungle colonies.¡± ¡°Ugh, fine,¡± Lady Trigg said. ¡°Then let me do a manual inspection.¡± Lady Trigg licked her lips. Muleater swallowed audibly, and I was not sure I blamed her. Lady Trigg carried an intensity about her that left the small of my back tingling. ¡°Lift your arms above your head.¡± Lady Trigg ordered. Muleater winced, but did so, revealing the wear and tear of her tunic, and her grimy armpits. I had seen worse, of course. And so had most of the soldiers. Despite that Kate must have also seen worse, at the sight of Muleater¡¯s underarms, Kate gagged. The strange woman of authority appeared indifferent, besides her scrunched nose. ¡°Won¡¯t be taking you home any time soon,¡± Lady Trigg said. ¡°But otherwise, the lieutenant seems free of infestation otherwise. ¡°Lady Trigg, please!¡± The Inquisitor protested. Lady Trigg sighed. ¡°Very well. Just to be safe¡­ spin for me.¡± Lady Trig held a finger over Muleater¡¯s head. ¡°Par¨Cpardon?¡± Muleater said, confusion evident. ¡°I said. Spin.¡± The woman¡¯s friendly demeanor dropped for just a second, and the hairs raised on the back of my neck. However, the guise quickly went back on, the steel resheathed in a false and friendly demeanor. Wisely, Muleater complied. After several spins, Lady Trigg stepped away and clapped her hands. ¡°There! Clean. The personal hand-maid of Princess Marissa has verified as much,¡± Lady Trigg said. ¡°As you were,¡± she said, before glancing my way and frowning just ever so slightly. My hair rose, and I felt as though a predator had just sighted prey. Meanwhile, Muleater sighed in relief, to be out from the very same predator¡¯s sight. ¡°But we need to debrief her, even if she is clean!¡± The Inquisitor almost whined. ¡°You do have a point,¡± Lady Trigg said, taking her eyes off me. I relaxed slightly. ¡°Very well,¡± she said, turning back towards Muleater who stiffened immediately. ¡°Report to command in an hour. Until then, your niece may help you situate yourself in camp.¡± And with that, the force of nature known as Lady Trigg strode away, before the Inquisitor could protest further. Everyone except the Inquisitor relaxed slightly. The Inquisitor, for his part, just appeared flummoxed and irritated while seemingly clueless at what to do. During the pause, Kate¡¯s eyes landed upon me. They widened in shock. ¡°Y-you! You lived!¡± Kate exclaimed. ¡°Where¨Chow?! Where¡¯d you go, we looked everywhere! What¨C¡± I started to answer, but one of the guards flanking me shoved my bad side, sending pain flaring through me. I gasped and kept my peace, the point received. Kate scowled as she saw the harsh treatment, and Kate began moving towards me, but the Inquisitor intervened by blocking her path with a wing. ¡°I will not humor this any further,¡± the Inquisitor said. ¡°Take the Lieutenant Muleater per Lady Trigg¡¯s suggestion. Report in an hour to command for debriefing.¡± ¡°But¨C!¡± Kate started protesting, trying to reach around his wing. ¡°Do not. Test me.¡± The Inquisitor seethed. ¡°For I am not completely without teeth. Despite what friendship you have found in court.¡± ¡°Al¨Calright,¡± Kate gulped. Muleater sent me a worried look, and Kate appeared very hesitant to leave, but they did all the same, abandoning me to the machinations of the inquisition. In all honesty, besides breaking me out of custody, there was little that Kate or Muleater could do. And why would they? Even if Kate had seemed happy to see me. Which meant I was on my own. But that was fine. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (1/9)
      • Featherlight (6/9)
  • Stealth I (5/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (1/9)
      • Area Coverage (1/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (3/9)
    • Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (6/9)
  • Closed
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.8.3 I just had to pretend it was like getting arrested, or ¡®questioned¡¯ for an adjacent crime where I ¡®absolutely was not¡¯ a suspect. I knew I could make it through this. I just needed to find the Inquisitor¡¯s angle. Then, I could tailor my answers, satisfy his curiosity, and go back to being a regular old ¡®pet.¡¯ At the thought, I could not help but shudder, if slightly. The soldiers led me away from Kate and Muleater, away from the winged inquisitor as well. Three guards escorted me, each with the red-gavel insignia. We came before a black pavilion style tent, one with the same red insignia, but larger, and sewn into both sides of the entrance. A flap was pulled up, revealing a dimly lit interior. The soldier behind me shoved me forward, and the three of them followed after. ¡°Strip her,¡± the soldier from behind said. The flap doorway was still open, and several jeering faces peered in from outside. Some were more interested than others. I felt dirty, but I had dealt with worse. I cooperated with them, as much as I could with my bindings. I could have struggled, but what would be the point? It was always better to bide than to flail. It was still embarrassing. My cheeks burned. I saw Kate beyond the doorway and I looked away, unable to bear it. Rather than focus upon my shame, I took in the interior or the pavilion of the inquisitors. A rusted table stood along one wall, facing a steel chair with manacles at the legs and armrests, and a high back with a padded headrest. The chair sat upon a large metal plate which was carved with glyphs and runes, but also faded by the dust and grime of the wastes. Notably, the plate stretched from the chair to the table, and conduits ran from the plate, along the legs of the table, up to what looked like a control panel, made of brass and ivory and gem diodes. To the sides of the panel, there were sharp, long, and curved instruments that had grime and pieces of dried flesh stuck to them. The entire room smelled of sour sweat and blood. It was a torture room. The soldiers finished stripping me and tossed my belongings into a wooden box unceremoniously. They shoved me towards the metal chair, and numbly, I complied, still in a shock of disbelief. They shoved me downwards, sitting me heavily against the chair, slamming my back against the rest. The manacles slapped around my ankles and wrist, and a chain hooked around my midsection. There would be no escape from this. Two of the soldiers went to stand by the entrance, while the third left. They left me there, letting me stew, for what felt like hours, with two soldiers watching dispassionately. While under supervision, there was little to no chance of effecting an escape, if I were to even seek such a course out. Depending on what they planned, I would have liked to have options. I hoped, hoped, that the room was for show, that it was meant to intimidate prisoners. For some reason, I doubted that. After I had gone nearly mad from worry, the third soldier returned, carrying a folder full of loose sheaves of paper. He settled in behind the control console, so that he faced both the controls and myself. He flicked a switch off to the side, and several of the crystal diodes lit up. A whoosh went out, and it grew silent, except for the men¡¯s breathing. My ears popped. I could hear my own heart, the hearts of the soldier manning the brass panel, but not much else. To my enhanced ears, the rest of the camp had gone silent. It was deafening. I faintly hoped that the control panel was solely a noise dampener. But given the fact it looked more like a steampunk sound-board, with a multitude of knobs, switches, and even three levers, I suspected it had a deeper purpose. And considering that the control-panel was connected to my imprisoning chair via conduits and a petal plate serving as a floor, I knew that whatever tool this control panel was, was malicious. And there was no doubt that there was malicious intent. Why else would they have insulated the room from the noises of the camp, except to insulate them from the noises that I might cause from within the tent. Though there was a possibility that they wanted to protect some information, such as interrogation tactics. One thing of note, was that after the third soldier re-entered the room, that the flap protecting the doorway was let down, sealing away my view from the outside, diving the room into darkness, where the only lights were weak glow-stones and the lit crystal diodes atop the control panel. The lights cast a menacing shadow upon the soldier¡¯s face, coming up from below, making his nose seem to be a black hole stretching upwards, and his eyes to be dark pits. Quite menacing, indeed. As the man reviewed the settings on the panel, he used a small pen light to read through his notes. I strained my neck to try and see, but the collar upon my neck had locked into place against the back of my chair. The feelings of claustrophobia were growing stronger by the minute that the silence continued. I compared this interrogation setup against what I vaguely recalled from home. And while the particulars were missing, I knew that there had at least been the guarantee of humane treatment within the criminal justice system. In this room, in this world, it was clear that there were no such considerations as ¡®cruel and unusual punishment¡¯ here. At least, not for non-humans. I wondered if I needed to change tactics. Ordinarily, I would remain calm, and quiet, and wait out the detectives. At least, that was what I had been trained to do. But here? Maybe I should break the silence? However, doing so might weaken my position. I felt so out of place, so confused, and at war with myself. With these feelings, the doubts grew. And not for the first time, nor second, or even third, I thought that perhaps, I should have listened to Larissen and Kissen from the beginning. That perhaps, I should have put more effort into avoiding the humans. Unfortunately, it was a bit too late for that though. The soldier operating the brass panel then flicked another switch, and one of the crystal diodes near the top of the panel, within clear sight of all, lit up with a pale green light. Since the Inquisitor had yet to make an appearance, I assumed this was the preparatory work for the ¡®interrogation.¡¯ As I watched the green light, the man operating the panel glanced up at me. ¡°Prisoner,¡± he said with a bored voice, finally breaking the silence. The other two soldiers standing guard remained impassive. ¡°State your name.¡± I matched his expression, wondering what his game was. If he actually cared about my name, then he might have been the first. I was unsure if even Kate knew my name. I was unable to remember if I had ever introduced myself to her. And if I had, would she have bothered to remember? It was a toss-up if she would decide to just give me a new ¡®pet-name,¡¯ at least if Muleater¡¯s plans were to go through. Disgust began warring with the self-doubt. But no, I needed to remain focused, at least if I were to escape this interrogation with minimal damage. To decide on my answer, I wondered if the purpose was for their records? While I considered and struggled with inner turmoil, the man grew impatient. ¡°Prisoner!¡± the man snapped. ¡°Your name.¡± There seemed to be a humming rising up from the metal floor. I decided I would attempt to figure things out as we went along, and I quickly answered. ¡°Jackie,¡± I said. I had thought of using my full-name rather than my nick-name, and I kept a close watch on the green crystal to see if it was affected. Thus far, it remained a consistent light green. It gave me some hope that I would have some leeway. ¡°Surname?¡± he prompted. I shook my head. The crystal retained its green glow. ¡°Answer verbally.¡± ¡°No,¡± I answered, still watching the light for any sense of flickering, to see if it responded differently to negative answers. ¡°No surname,¡± I clarified. I thought I might have seen a slight change, but it was far too quick for me to remain certain. It would have surprised me if it did react, as I had spoken the truth. Mother had never given me her surname, not that I would have kept it if she had. The man made a note, reviewed the control panel, and then continued, still sounding both nonchalant and bored. ¡°State the surname of your previous owner.¡± That question caused some confusion. I should have expected it. Muleater had asked something similar. But I was still thinking of Mother. She had never ¡®owned¡¯ me, at least not in the legal sense of it. I was unsure how much I wanted to say here, or what even would be the truth. They clearly had the means to detect falsehoods. They clearly believed I had been raised in their slave-owning awful society. I did not necessarily want to break those assumptions of theirs, at least not if there was no profit to it. ¡°Prisoner!¡± the man said, this time flipping a switch. The hum resonated further, traveling up the chair. I could now feel it. It reminded me of the vibrator on a phone. It was a clear warning, and emphasized his question. ¡°What was the surname of your previous owner?!¡± I had to answer. I ventured, ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m unsure.¡± This was somewhat of a deceit, but I thought I could keep it more truthful than not. The light began flickering as I answered. I focused on the fact that I really was unsure of what they meant, if they were implying legally, or if they would have counted Mother. The light ceased its indecision and returned to the pale green glow. ¡°Hm,¡± the man said, thinking out loud as he tapped the control panel. ¡°I wonder. To clarify, yes or no, do you know the surname of any of your previous owners, or beyond that, a family name?¡± ¡°No,¡± I answered as briefly as I could to avoid further antagonizing him. ¡°Do you know the most recent city you resided in?¡± he asked, something more interesting than his initial tone. It did not bode well, I thought. His interest, that was. But to answer his question, it was not that simple. First and foremost, naming any cities from this world was right out. Second but still foremost, I could hardly name a city from my old world, both because I struggled to remember, but also because a simple fact check would prove to be an issue. For once, my amnesia came to my aid. ¡°No,¡± I answered truthfully. He hummed and tapped the metal table, creating an ominous clack-clack-clack. Eventually he asked, ¡°Are you missing significant pieces of your memories?¡± That, at least, was an easy question. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Fascinating. He¡¯ll take issue with that,¡± he muttered, not intending it for my ears. ¡°Should continue creating a baseline¡­¡± He turned his attention back to me. ¡°Look at this garnet, please.¡± An orange red crystal lit up on the back of the panel, facing me. He leaned over and gestured to the crystal, so that I could in no reasonable way miss it. ¡°What color is it?¡± he asked. ¡°W-what?¡± I asked, taken off guard. The coloration was clear. Unless there was some other magic at play that changed an individual¡¯s perception of it¡­ I wondered if answering would reveal too much. ¡°Just answer the question,¡± he sighed. ¡°What color is the light?¡± His attitude left me thinking that this was not a trick. But then again, it could be an act. I still decided to answer, largely because I had no real other alternative. ¡°Burnt orange?¡± I said. He pressed another switch on the panel, but the light appeared unaffected. ¡°And now?¡± he asked, a hidden anticipatory tone now showing from his posture. ¡°Still burnt¨C¡± as soon as I answered, the light brightened to a clear yellow, but the words were already coming out and my heart-rate spiked as I attempted to correct my answer ¡°-orangey-yellow?¡± The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. The green light went out. An electric current ran up from my ankles. My legs seized from the electrocution, and my stomach felt like it was tearing up. My diaphragm froze. Fortunately the current exited at the chain around my middle, or the current would have hit my heart. I was unsure if that would have been lethal or not. It had certainly hurt. ¡°-what¨Cwhy?¡± I asked, panting for breath. He ignored my question, instead asking his own and continuing constructing a ¡®baseline.¡¯ ¡°What color is this?¡± he asked, pointing to the green crystal on top of the panels, the one I suspected was a ¡®truth-stone.¡¯ I stared at him dubiously, still catching my breath. Why was he asking that? ¡°Answer the question,¡± he snapped, and began reaching towards another switch. Was he going to electrocute me again? ¡°G-green!¡± I rushed. ¡°Now, lie for me,¡± he said. ¡°W-what?!¡± I asked, not wanting to be hurt. ¡°Attempt to deceive me, and make it obvious.¡± ¡°But¡­ why?¡± I asked, cringing at the obvious ramifications of what would happen when I did so. ¡°We¡¯re just taking a baseline,¡± he said calmly. ¡°Tell me this¨C¡± he tapped the green crystal once more ¡°-is purple.¡± After a pause, as I was still very reluctant to obey, he added in an almost amiable, conciliatory tone, as though he just thought of a valid reason I might not be able to answer. ¡°You know what purple is, yes or no?¡± Condescending oaf! Of course, I knew what the color purple was¡­ I gave a single jerk of a nod, at least so far as my restraints allowed. ¡°Verbally answer.¡± He began twisting a knob, and the humming, vibrating below my feet began to grow. Was the device building another charge? ¡°Yes!¡± I said quickly. The humming paused. ¡°Good, so you know the color purple. Now tell me that this¨C¡± he once again tapped the green crystal ¡°-is purple.¡± ¡°It is,¡± I said, wincing, trying my best to get out of making an obvious lie, from receiving another shock. ¡°Is what?¡± he asked dryly. I wondered how often he performed this, if it had grown to be a routine for him. ¡°It¡¯s purple!¡± I said, wincing already at the expectation of electrocution. But surprisingly, the jolt never came. The soldier hummed, tapping another portion of the panel. He was turning another knob. The chair felt colder beneath me, and ice seeped into me from where the metal contacted me. ¡°In these exact words, repeat after me,¡± he said, then paused, and began once more, slowly, deliberately, over enunciating each word. ¡°This green emerald¨C¡± he once again tapped the diode ¡°-is purple amethyst.¡± I had to wonder why they needed a baseline at all. Muleater had never required a baseline when she used her skill or talent to determine if I was attempting deceit. Were the inquisitors less capable than Muleater? Or were they solely calibrating a device as a redundancy? Or¡­ or were they attempting to toy with my psyche? That last one sent an unpleasant tingle through me. ¡°Do so now,¡± he chided, before beginning to count down. ¡°Three¡­ Two¡­ One¨C¡± he reached to the side of the panel, where a very obvious and very visible switch was connected with long wires to the panel, clearly meant to be able to move around the room. ¡°-zero.¡± I had yet to repeat after him. He flipped the switch on. Another jolt went through me. As my diaphragm forcibly contracted, a screaming gasp tore itself from my throat. He flipped the switch back off. The jolt ended. ¡°Repeat after me,¡± he said impatiently. ¡°This green emerald is purple amethyst.¡± I still paused, to catch my breath, and torn with indecision. I would be electrocuted either way. One way, the punishment would escalate. The other way, they would take a better baseline to determine if I was telling the truth. But did they even need a baseline? Could they not just have a talent to discern truth from falsehood? Why were they¨C ¡°Three¡­ Two¡­ One¨C¡± ¡°W-wait!¡± I rushed. ¡°This g-green emerald is purple amethyst!¡± I cringed. The humming rose up from my feet. Again, electricity arced through me. Though either I was inured against it, or the pain was less. The electrocution ended. ¡°The built up energy will increase with every lie you speak,¡± the soldier explained, before advising, ¡°Don¡¯t lie.¡± I nodded, swallowing to wet my dry mouth. ¡°Very well. A few more preliminaries. Were you travel companions with¡­¡± he glanced down at the table, where I could not see, ¡°Lieutenant Muleater?¡± I was still catching my breath. ¡°Y-yes,¡± I hastened to answer. ¡°You were found and claimed by the caravan of Manny Stillson? ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°You escaped during the wyrkwik attack and fled with two other beastborn, correct?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°You rejoined Lieutenent Muleater¡¯s party and traveled with them?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Willingly?¡± he added. I wondered why he clarified that, though perhaps it was to establish motive. ¡°Yes,¡± I answered, all the same. ¡°You shared duties with the party and stood as sentry, or otherwise known as lookout, or guard, during the night?¡± ¡°...yes?¡± ¡°You are unsure?¡± ¡°No, I mean, I did¨C¡± ¡°Yes or no. These are simple questions and deserve simple answers.¡± I winced, but nodded all the same. ¡°Your compatriot beastborn abandoned you and the party, stealing themselves?¡¯ I wondered briefly at the wording. But then recalled that Kissen and Larissen had left us in the gorge. Would Kissen still be alive, if they had remained with the humans as I did? ¡°Answer the¨C¡± ¡°-yes,¡± I answered. ¡°Very well,¡± he continued. ¡°While you were standing sentry at night, you abandoned your post as sentry and absconded with one of your previous compatriots, a male beastborn.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I grimaced, feeling a tremble as painful memories did battle with the after effects of the shock. ¡°You encountered and engaged in combat with the Apprentice Alchemist Charson, no surname?¡± ¡°Y-yes.¡± ¡°You and the male beastborn were retrieved by Sir Kate Guardson?¡± The memories came in, of Kate appearing from nowhere. ¡°Yes.¡± Of Kate blocking Larissen¡¯s rampage. ¡°In that engagement, you were wounded.¡± Of Kate striking down upon me with her sword, severing my left¨C ¡°Y-yes.¡± I shuddered. ¡°You were cared for, tended to, and carried by, Sir Kate Guardson.¡± Of Kate carrying me back, nursing me to health, despite her otherwise ill treatment, and the fact that she had been the one to strike me down. ¡°Yes¡­¡± ¡°Later, during a battle with the wyrkwik, you dissented from the party and abandoned Sir Kate Guardson and the remainder of the party. ¡°N-n¨C¡± I started answering, but the humming was back, crackling at my ankles. I changed my answer, ¡°-it wasn¡¯t like that,¡± I argued. And in truth, it had been far more complicated than that. I had made a deal with the caravan master. I had paid for our leave, and given them the means for success. But at the same time¡­ in the crudest sense, my actions could have been seen that way, at least from a human¡¯s perspective. ¡°Yes or no,¡± he chided sternly, reaching for the obvious electrocution-switch. ¡°...yes,¡± I answered, under protest. ¡°You performed the barbaric custom of consuming your dead when the survivors of Lieutenent Muleater¡¯s party found you.¡± I grimaced at the memory, but at the same time I felt that hunger stir. It had been a while since I last ate, with the mucary feeding me raw meat, which apparently, I preferred. ¡°Yes,¡± I answered. ¡°You traveled into a crevasse in pursuit of the Apprentice Alchemist Charson, no surname.¡± ¡°We did.¡± ¡°Yes or no.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°You diverged from the party, along with the male beastborn, into an unknown and narrow space.¡± If he was referring to when we followed the trail of Charson into a very narrow off-shooting crevasse, then yes. But he made it sound like it had been without the consent of the party. Well, when Larissen had gone in, it had been with consent. When I had followed after him, it had not. Regardless though, the answer would be clear. ¡°Yes.¡± A short voltage seared my ankles, causing my feet to shake and legs to tremble. ¡°Not the full truth, then?¡± ¡°I followed Larissen after some time had passed.¡± ¡°The male beastborn?¡± he asked for clarification. ¡°Yes,¡± I said, remembering how he eventually betrayed me and decided that slaying me would be the kinder fate. ¡°Ah.¡± The soldier made a show of writing down a clarification on his note. ¡°You did encounter Sir Kate Guardson while apart from the rest of Lieutenent Muleater¡¯s part?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°After returning to Lieutenent Muleater¡¯s party, you and the male beastborn engaged with the party to combat encroaching wyrkwik.¡± ¡°Y-¡± I started to answer, but the voltage gave a small zap, making a popping sound. ¡°I see. You were reported to have murdered the Caravan Master Manny Stillson?¡± ¡°What? No!¡± I quickly added, I could only imagine how murder charges would end in a summary execution for a sub-human. Fortunately, it was the truth. I had not, personally, slain the fat greasy man. I had just shoved him to the mucary¡­ A pause passed, with man seemingly waiting to see if the light would change, or if an electrocution would be imminent. When it was not, he shook his head silently and crossed off another line from his notes. After the pause, I decided to venture a question of my own, to perhaps learn more of these soldiers and their thoughts. ¡°Why would you say that?¡± I asked. ¡°Ah, it appears that Apprentice Artificer Gregory Silverborn¡¯s had made the claim, though the truth was unclear. Did you kill the Caravan Master then?¡± ¡°No¡­ I did not.¡± The light may have flickered just a tad. The questioner saw this, and pushed further. ¡°You did not kill Caravan Master Manny Stillson, yes or no.¡± ¡°No,¡± I answered truthfully. Because I truly had not. Manny Stillson had been a sacrifice made for the rest of the group to escape. Had I not acted, they all would have fallen regardless. The light was still flickering, but gave no other indication that I had lied. ¡°We¡¯ll revisit this later,¡± he said. ¡°Moving on, after the battle, you and the party retreated from the wyrkwik, until the party was unable to tolerate your pace or treachery, and left you and the male beastborn behind?¡± ¡°Y-ye-nnno?¡± I started one answer, realized that his question was loaded, and changed course. But the damage was done. Another pop. Another electrocution. This time, the current reached past my thighs into my organs, squeezing and pressing. Thanks to my biology, I never soiled myself. Though I felt, had I still been human, I would have. ¡°The party went ahead of you and your male beastborn compatriot?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°You then joined forces with the wyrkwik?¡± ¡°No!¡± I kept the image firmly in mind, of the crevasse, of the desperate hiding. Of the humans¡¯ supposed last battle. ¡°You joined forces with the wyrkwik after the humans did battle and pushed through?¡± ¡°No¡­¡± I answered, once more, keeping the crevasse firmly in mind. ¡°You were infested or otherwise corrupted, or had been¨C¡± ¡°No.¡± He frowned, and eyed the switch, but refrained from pulling it. He clearly was not getting what he wanted. ¡°You were captured by the wyrkwik?¡± he asked, changing tactics. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°You were housed in the same prison as Lieutenant Muleater.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°You were pulled aside by the wyrkwik several times, away from Lieutenant Muleater?¡± ¡°...yes.¡± ¡°You were corrupted, infested, or otherwise infused by the wyrkwik.¡± ¡°No.¡± I wanted to snap back. He was so convinced I was somehow fooling the truth stone. But to my knowledge, doing so would have been impossible. I could only grin and bear it. Eventually he would grow bored. But it took a while. He continued different angles of attack, trying to somehow catch me out in a deceit. It never happened, largely because it was the truth. I had not been corrupted. And I had never finalized my plans with Emboru. I wondered if this was why? Plausible deniability. Surprisingly, he never asked what the mucary had wanted me for. It was possible that they never considered the fact that the infested were sentient, or that they could communicate, or want anything that could be achieved by discussion. Or, and this was my personal suspicion, they were saving that question for later. The questioning continued. ¡°You aided Lieutenant Muleater in escaping and fleeing the wyrkwik.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± At least at this point, I could answer truthfully in the affirmative and make a case for clemency. But then he tried sneaking another question in. ¡°At any point in time, you were corrupted, infested, or otherwise partially consumed by the wyrkwik.¡± I groaned, ¡°Nooo.¡± He scoffed, tapped the electrocution switch without triggering it, and then stood. He shut the folder and carried it with him, walking out, past the soldiers. I called after him, ¡°Hey, wait¨C¡± But he stepped through the exit, leaving me alone with two guards in the sound insulated tent. I remained naked, strapped to the torture chair. The guards looked on dispassionately, practically asleep where they stood. If I could just manage to free my ankles, or even my hand, then I could probably escape. Though I still needed to lift the key to my collar. I had probably best wait until nightfall, I decided. And so I waited. And I waited. An eternity passed, my legs had fallen asleep, my arm had gone numb, my stomach ached from hunger, and my throat parched from thirst. I could not tell if days had passed, though I assumed not, as the soldiers never changed guard. Finally, there was movement. The tent flap was swept aside. In entered the Inquisitor. ¡°Let us begin.¡± Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (1/9)
      • Featherlight (6/9)
  • Stealth I (5/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (1/9)
      • Area Coverage (1/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (3/9)
    • Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (6/9)
  • Closed
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.8.4 ¡°Let us begin.¡± Those ominous words echoed through the otherwise silent interior. The Inquisitor allowed the tent flap to fall shut behind him and stepped further inside, past the two guards, and towards where I was shackled to the chair. I eyed him warily. I thought of being glib, but mouthing off would only hurt my chances. So instead, I watched, I listened. I attempted to convey respect. To inflate the man¡¯s ego. For that was my most realistic tactic to survive this. ¡°Many fear the wrath of the Inquisition, but this need not be the case¡­¡± He said as he compacted his wings as much as possible. The pavilion was too small, he appeared cramped. But all the same, he continued speaking and walking, circling me. His wing feathers scraped the fabric of the walls and myself. It truly did look far too cramped for comfort. ¡°Many attempt to clothe their misdeeds in deceit, hoping to fool the Inquisition. But doing so is futile, at best¡­¡± He made it around to my side, making each step deliberate. I craned my neck to continue watching him, even though the shadows were only illuminated by the blinking diodes of the control panel. ¡°Many shun the taboos that draw the attention of the Crown, and perhaps rightfully so. But a select few, the brave, the unique, the worthy¡­ These few seek to tame the power of the gods for themselves. These brave few, they slave themselves to the very same gods which sundered our world, and in return¡­ in return¡­ they receive power beyond mortal ken, beyond the arts and sciences and crafts, perhaps even rivaling Imperial Sigils¡­¡± He made it directly behind me, where I could no longer see him, not with the chair between us, and not with the bindings around my neck and waist and arm and legs. Was he emphasizing how helpless I was? I did not appreciate this at all. But despite that, I could only grit my teeth and let the moment continue. I would not even plot, as any interrogation might reveal my plans, especially with the truth detection that they employed. ¡°These few, they may attempt to hide from the Crown, but they need not do so¡­ ¡°For there is a place for all beneath the Crown, more so for the skilled, for the Marked, and most so for the Godsmarked. None may say that the Crown is wasteful. They are housed befitting their sacrifices. They are put to good use. Which is fitting, as they sold themselves for power, as that power must be used, and there is no finer service than that to the Crown.¡± Despite my better judgment, I began listening to what he was saying. Not that he was swaying me. No, I was trying to determine his strategy. He was making a case that my future might not be bleak¨Cassuming I cooperated of course. Whether that was true or not, I could not say. It would hardly be the first time interrogators used false hope to incentivise confessions. ¡°So despair not!¡± he proclaimed, stepping back around into my field of vision once more. And then he paused, seemingly consideringly. He shook his head slowly, and in a softer voice, continued. ¡°However, despite this hope, this efficiency, this purpose¡­ perhaps the reputation of the Inquisition is not completely unwarranted. For divining the truth, removing the layer of filth and lies, purging the deceit through the fires of the Crown¡­ it can go painfully.¡± ¡°Thus, I must ask: how will you bare yourself? Willingly, beseeching your purpose through the Crown. Or¡­ through the fires of the Crown?¡± He gave the carrot, and then the stick. Or at least, he implied their existence, not that he gave any details. Not that I needed the details. They had torture instruments, they had an electric chair! Clearly, they had the means to inflict pain. ¡°Plainly, I ask this: Are you Godsmarked?¡± He was now gazing upon me. I had two options. One, remain silent. And given their propensity for torture, I could not imagine that going well. The other option was to tell the truth, but to do so as vaguely as possible. But even then, I knew it would be futile. The Inquisitor would not let half truths steer the ship. Not unless I lucked out with his incompetence. But from what I had seen, that hope was unrealistic. However, that did not mean that I was in danger. Because other than Nick Delaney explaining his own experience with an alleged divinity, I had no knowledge of any such thing. And even if the humans suspected I was Godsmarked, I had no such knowledge. ¡°No,¡± I answered truthfully. He tilted his head, glanced to the green light, then to the guards by the door. ¡°It was calibrated,¡± one of the guards said, before belatedly adding, ¡°Sir.¡± ¡°As it was noted,¡± the Inquisitor said dryly, before continuing the questioning. ¡°Have you been touched by a god?¡± he asked. Truthfully? ¡°No,¡± I answered. Because despite the claims of others, I doubted the existence of any god. ¡°Perhaps it is a translation error?¡± he wondered aloud. ¡°Have you been known by a divine entity?¡± That one made it sound like I had been ¡®biblical¡¯ with a god. Which would be disgusting, and an imbalance of power. ¡°No,¡± I answered, both truthfully and gratefully. He tsked. His momentum had been lost. I could sense it. But still, he continued soldiering on. ¡°Do you know from whence you received your Marks?¡± This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°No,¡± I said. Because in all honesty, I absolutely had no idea how I had received them. Or this body. ¡°A different line then,¡± he said after a considering pause. ¡°Do you believe yourself from another realm?¡± ¡°What?¡± I asked, caught off guard and by surprise. ¡°Another realm. A different world. One unrecognizable from this one.¡± ¡°From the Wastes?¡± I asked. ¡°Answer the question as you interpreted it,¡± the Inquisitor said. ¡°As strange as it seems. The penalties are dire, otherwise¡­¡± He probably could have left off the threats. I remembered them well enough. I could not lie on this. I might have been able to give a misleading truth, but I was unsure of how. And then it hit me. I had the perfect excuse already. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know,¡± I answered. The green light may have flickered slightly, but it remained solid enough for the misdirection to pass. Because it was the truth. I could barely remember anything. And for all I knew, we were off in the midwest somewhere, or an apocalypse happened, or I was in a coma. There were too many unknowns. ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± he asked. ¡°No,¡± I confirmed. He ran his fingers through one of his wings, grooming the feathers. After some time, he asked for clarification, likely remembering my claims of amnesia. ¡°Can you provide a single, concrete memory, prior to receiving your Marks?¡± he asked. ¡°No,¡± I said. Because while I might have hints, maybe glimpses, and while I had impressions of my life from before¡­ I was missing concrete details. And, I could not recall any specific moment. If I could finally put that frustrating disability to use, to my advantage, then all the better. ¡°Most vexing,¡± he said. ¡°Your memory was clearly wiped. Whatever entity you serve has covered its tracks well¡­¡± He began pacing, creating a breeze whenever he went by. He thought aloud. ¡°Strange though. Why spend divinity without a planned return? Perhaps¡­ Well, such measures may be unheeded, unnecessary. Perhaps, a simple mechanism shall serve us well¡­¡± He quickly turned, his wings slapping me in the face hard enough that I would have been sent tumbling, were it not for the restraints. He pointed at one of the guards, the same to provide confirmation earlier. ¡°You!¡± the Inquisitor said. ¡°Send for a memory aid. Serum of the Lapis Sage, version two.¡± The guards¡¯ eyes widened. ¡°-the strong one, sir?¡± the one he asked said. ¡°-such colloquialisms.¡± The Inquisitor scoffed. ¡°Yes. the strong one.¡± The guard disappeared out the exit, the brief moment of light blinding, before he returned and the flap shut once more. He gave the Inquisitor a sloppy salute and a nod, and the Inquisitor responded by shaking his head. The Inquisitor smelled as though he were disgusted. Rather than consider the guards and their lack of respect, he turned towards me and conversed. I absorbed all the details that I could, to better prepare myself for whatever was coming. ¡°Ordinarily,¡± he said. ¡°Such expensive resources such as the serum would not be spent¡­ but doing so would expedite this, though it is something of a risk¡­¡± he almost appeared apologetic as he said that. ¡°A risk?¡± I asked, worried, seeking clarification. ¡°Yes, a risk,¡± he said. He apparently decided to multi-task, and while he talked, he walked over to the tools and picked up a scalpel, examining it against the weak light of a glow stone. Dissatisfied by what he saw, he began rasping it along the edge of rough leather. ¡°Minds were not made for tampering,¡± he said with a shrug. I tried ignoring the tools as best I could. If all went well, they would not be used. Focusing instead on what I could, on the conversation, I asked, ¡°And that¡¯s what the elixir will do?¡± ¡°No. Not exactly.¡± He scoffed, placing the scalpel back down among the other instruments, next picking up a pair of clips and testing their springs. ¡°But that is not what I meant.¡± ¡°Then¡­ What did you mean?¡± I asked, nervously watching him systematically work through the torture implements. ¡°I see no gain in humoring you, except in showing the difference between your foul master, whoever it is, and the glorious mercy of the Crown¡­¡± He set the last of the tools down, finishing his inspection, and once again approaching me, circling me, and tracing a finger across my brow. ¡°It is clear your memories were stricken, or would you contest?¡± I shook my head. ¡°You disagree?¡± He sounded surprised. ¡°No, I don¡¯t contest,¡± I said. ¡°I agree. I¡¯m missing them. A lot of them.¡± ¡°From our sciences, we know memories are sourced from here¨C¡± he tapped against my forehead, and then the top of my skull ¡°-even among the beastborn. It is the brain, the mind, that houses them¡­ so if a portion of them were removed, then what does that say of the methods?¡± He was insinuating that whatever robbed me of my memories, also robbed me of pieces of my brain? I supposed in a primitive sense, that might have been true. But it was largely an oversimplification of how the mind worked. Or at least, of how I thought it did. I was hardly a neuroscientist. In fact, I hardly could be considered to have passed high school. If I even had. ¡°Now, while the elixir does not damage the structure of the brain¨Cit does aid the mind in reforging connections to past memories¡­ How is this a risk? I can see the question churning upon your lips. And to answer: I am unsure of the methodology that your mind was tampered with. So in encouraging portions to be restored, I cannot say with complete certainty that it will be your mind that returns to us, after the procedure is completed. A cold sweat began forming. ¡°Brain¡­ death?¡± ¡°What? No. Don¡¯t be an imbecile. Well, perhaps, but unlikely. It is more of a philosophical question, if anything. Should the structure of your brain, of your mind, change, will you still be you?¡± As he spoke, the flap to the tent re-opened, and a soldier came in, presenting a small metal container. He held it out and opened it for the inquisitor. ¡°Per your orders,¡± the soldier said. The inquisitor retrieved what might have been a bottle, about the size of my hand. It had a sealed lid, which he unsealed. Using a pair of forceps, he retrieved an object from the bottle¨Ca pill. A blue glowing pill, approximately the size of a pinky¡¯s fingernail. The Inquisitor turned towards me. ¡°Will you open and swallow willingly?¡± he asked. I gulped, and thought of resisting, but again, I was at their mercy. And should I attempt to fool him, such as hiding the pill beneath my tongue, I was certain they would discover the ruse. It was in their job, practically. I nodded confirmation. ¡°Verbally answer.¡± ¡°Yes. I will¡­¡± ¡°Very well. Then open.¡± I did. The pill was placed upon my tongue. I was not given water. I swallowed. The Inquisitor checked my mouth. Then asked for additional confirmation. Which I gave. And then, we waited. Minutes later, I began seeing colors that should not have been. Then I tasted them. Minutes later, my head was aching and spinning and I felt like my skin was inverting. I became lost in myself. I remembered. At least, I remembered something. Flashes. Pain. Mother¡­ If I could have, I would have groaned. It was another horrid memory. Ingestion 1.6.8.5 Mother used the motel¡¯s skeleton key to calmly enter the room, clicking her tongue as she saw the body. ¡°I fail to recall giving you permission to kill him,¡± she said, the words carrying the weight of accusation, the promise of punishment. So much was left unspoken, but still translated and carried forth. I had failed her, with those simple words. I wanted to squirm as her eyes swept over the body, the mattress, over me and my disheveled state. I had yet to correct my undergarments, and my skirt was still askew. My blouse was missing several buttons. I was hardly presentable, and that was ignoring the gunsmoke and splattered fluids. However, rather than squirming, I lowered my gaze, communicating my shame. For it was true: I had failed. I had my reasons, but all the same, I had failed Mother. I was relieved as her eyes left me, and returned to the overweight man who was splayed half way atop the mattress. Mother pulled a pair of latex gloves from her tea-coat and snapped them into place, before gliding to the wall and the false mirror. Well, technically it was a working mirror, but it had another function. She ran a fingernail along its seam and pulled its side, causing it to hinge open, revealing a camcorder. She muttered as she stopped the recording function and watched the footage on the small camcorder screen. ¡°You had him exactly where I wanted him, and you killed him. Disgusting. Wasteful. Give your accounting as I clean up.¡± She began sweeping over the cheap duvet and carpet, using a black-light to find any obvious remains. Besides the splatter along the ground. There was not much anyone could have done for that, save removing the rug. We had been running a honeypot with a specific target: The lead detective investigating Mother¡¯s businesses. I had some ideas about what Mother¡¯s business did; how could I not, with all I had seen, though I tried my hardest to ignore the stains and the cries and the sobs for friends and parents who would never come. But when I had grown up with it, grown up helping Mother ¡®recruit,¡¯ even before I knew what it was I was doing, not that the crime could be absolved by my own youth, I had to have known, at least a little. It left me sick if I thought overly much upon it. But I still knew, unfortunately. So when the case against Mother¡¯s business began picking up steam, when her operations began getting hit, a part of me hoped that that would be it. That the nightmare would end. Of course, nothing was ever so simple. If it was, then the detective would have never been there. ¡°Well girl?¡± she asked. ¡°Is there a reason you drew his service pistol? You might have thought you were doing your Motherdear a favor, but you knew the plan. My daughter is well-trained enough to know that the department will replace him. Why then, why would you make such a mess, and when everything was progressing towards my favor?¡± she snapped the camcorder shut, having finished the recording. ¡°He¡­ he started touching me¡­¡± I said. I was young enough that the thought of a man doing anything should have been anathema. ¡°Yes, child, I know. That was the plan.¡± I resisted the urge to shudder, but Mother still saw the twinge pass through me. ¡°Backsliding, then?¡± she asked in a false tone of thoughtfulness. ¡°I had thought your preparations were adequate. Perhaps that was not the case?¡± She found the service pistol, a ruger revolver, and began wiping down the handle, trigger, and chambers, leaving no trace of fingerprints, nor any other evidence. The fact she did so casually, above a murdered man, while scolding me as a disappointed parent would, failed to convey the repercussions. She might have appeared casual, but the preparations, or training, as she called it, could be worse than whatever punishment the justice system doled out for ¡®cop-killing.¡¯ And were I not careful, I would experience these preparations again. I needed to appease Mother in some way. She had already seen the video. She would have known what happened. What could have happened, had I not snapped. So, I began pleading my case. ¡°H-his intentions went beyond what we prepared for,¡± I said, stuttering just enough to imply weakness and fear, a form of respect to Mother. Certainly, she had trained me to add such an affectation as a manipulation tactic. Certainly, she knew I was deploying that same tactic now. But she also knew that I knew that she knew, which in a byzantine manner carried over a sense of respect towards her person. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. She nodded, reupholstering the gun upon the detective, and beginning to spray down the mattress with an acidic solution, mixed with bodily fluids taken from a variety of persons. The fact that she nodded was promising. It meant I still had a chance. ¡°I will permit you to explain,¡± Mother said. I gathered my thoughts, and calmed my nerves as much as possible. My skin still crawled from where he had touched. But none of that mattered. Right now, I needed to convince Mother. ¡°It is true, that he would have incriminated himself, and that he had incriminated himself by his actions,¡± I said, conceding to Mother that her plan had been successful in that regard. ¡°Obviously,¡± she said. ¡°So why then, this?¡± she waved towards his still cooling corpse. ¡°He was going to¨C¡± I shuddered, this time I could not help it. ¡°Do not stutter without intention or gain,¡± Mother chided. Right. I knew better than that. Another breath in, another out. ¡°Violent. He began with his hands here,¡± I pointed towards my chest, then collar bone. ¡°But his hands crept up, and he began forcing me down with his weight.¡± ¡°If this is your excuse, then perhaps both you and your sister require remedial efforts, for many clients prefer such roughness.¡± I resisted the wince, though I still felt the dread fear at the unfairness of it. Trix absolutely did not deserve this, especially as she served Mother in different ways. ¡°His hands gripped my throat,¡± I said, craning my chin upwards, revealing the marks I was sure that his throttling had left. ¡°It left me unable to breathe.¡± ¡°And so you panicked?¡± Mother inquired. ¡°Despite that this situation was monitored, and we would have intervened?¡± I had to be careful here. I could not bely nor belittle her efforts. I could not point out that she did not arrive in time, but only minutes after the shot had fired. Were I to have relied upon her care, her intervention, then likely I would have paid with my life. ¡°While I cannot claim there was no panic,¡± I said, choosing my words slowly, ¡°I worried that I would be irreparably damaged, which would cost your gracious investments that are within myself.¡± She tsked, almost sounding amused, but in a stern manner. ¡°Unfortunately, his back was towards the mirror; your reasons may be substantiated.¡± Relief swept through me. Prematurely, it turned out. ¡°However¡­ that the situation so devolved in such a fashion, shows that you lost control. That, should not have happened. That fault rests with you.¡± ¡°My apologies, Mother.¡± ¡°Yes. Some additional training will be required. As well as an incentive to avoid creating such messes.¡± She had finished spraying the scene with the mix of chemicals and false trails, and she gestured for me to collect myself, straighten my skirt, then follow her out the door. As we walked out onto the second floor walkway-balcony of the motel, we passed one of Mother¡¯s enforcers, a slim man who was always quick to heel. ¡°Kerosene,¡± she instructed him. He nodded, smiling slightly. I winced at the order. As Mother was facing away from me, I could escape her notice with such expressions. She owned the motel through an intermediary. The fact that she was burning her own property would cause additional labor. Even if she collected an insurance claim. Her inconvenience would be repaid tenfold towards the one that caused them. I followed her as she strode purposefully with stiff and perfect posture. I imitated her as best I could, but her gait was longer than mine, forcing me to hurry. We passed several other of her employees, all of them passing the word and claiming whatever valuables they could find. Several gunshots were heard, as Mother¡¯s organization took advantage of the soon-to-be crime scene. It was industrious. It left me wincing. But it was also life. Soon, we reached her vehicle, a well-maintained four-door sedan. She could have afforded a much more expensive model, with further tinted windows. But those tended to draw more attention. One of her employees, one of her most trusted enforcers, opened the rear door for Mother, and then led me to the other side and opened the door for me, before he climbed into the driver''s seat. I was pleased to see Trix in the passenger¡¯s seat. She gave me a small small, but I subtly shook my head. She knew well enough to keep her silence, especially if Mother was in a mood, which she certainly was. Her employee, the acting chauffeur for the evening, also knew better than to first break the moment. It was not until a whoomph was heard, along with the breaking of glass, the flickers of orange light reflected off the night, that Mother spoke. ¡°Residence nine.¡± That was all she said. I winced. That was the one with the basement. Trix tried mouthing at me, ¡°What happened?¡± A flare of Mother¡¯s nostrils was all that was required to halt any unspoken or mouthed conversation. The only other words spoken were those of the driver. ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡± he replied, as he put the car into gear. The suspension on the car made it so we hardly felt the potholes as we drove, away from the motel, and further away from city limits. It would be a long night. Ingestion 1.6.8.6 & 7 Rigid fire. Each of my nerves, every single one of them, and I could almost count them, they screamed in agony. My teeth nearly shattered against themselves, my mouth clenched tight, my tongue roiling. My vision was red and black. I smelled pain. That memory¡­ that had been what it was, I told myself that over and over. But¡­ it had felt real, as though I were living that unfortunate¨C I was better off not thinking about it. Why was my body¨C My guts churned. Had I been able to, I would have voided myself. And then in the midst of it, I heard him. His patronizingly calm voice. He was speaking. I remembered that I was still in the inquisitor¡¯s tent. At least, I assumed I was. It was possible I had moved. But I was still restrained. The Inquisitor with the wings was still there. ¡°...I cannot tell if this is a strong reaction to a largely harmless serum, you¡¯re naive enough to think that faking a seizure would exempt you from what comes next.¡± A flat hard thing was pressed between my lips, prying my teeth apart. The skin of my neck was pricked. A wave of cool relief radiated out, following my veins, bringing permission to my muscle groups to relax wherever it passed. I sagged and just sat there, breathing. ¡°A negative reaction then,¡± the Inquisitor commented. ¡°An unfortunate waste of time.¡± One of my claws on my right hand was suddenly peeled upwards away from the cuticle. I gasped from the pain. ¡°Awake then?¡± The Inquisitor asked, releasing the grips of his pliers upon my nail. ¡°Good. Open your eyes and focus upon me, if you wish to keep your hand unmangled.¡± It was a struggle, but I managed to focus my gaze upon him. He loomed over me, watching me with contempt. When he saw my eyes open, he gave a slight nod, before turning back towards the worktable with the command console. He set a set of rusty pliers down on the surface with an ominous clink. While he had his back towards me, he continued. ¡°After receiving the serum, and before I roused you just now, did you experience anything of note?¡± ¡°-heh¨C¡± I said, barely a whisper, as I was still collecting my breath. ¡°-l-like what¨C?¡± ¡°Hallucinations, Flashbacks, Vivid Dreaming, Recall of a memory, or any such experiential event.¡± His dry voice droned on as he listed the possibilities. ¡°Well? Yes or no, did you experience any of those, or anything of that like?¡± I thought of saying no, but that would have been a lie. Because I had recalled something. I wished I had kept that memory lost, but thanks to this serum, it was found all the same. ¡°Answer,¡± he said, losing his patience. ¡°Three. Two. One¨C¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I said, hurrying before he punished me again. ¡°Very well. For the expedience of time, answer with a yes or no. Did you reexperience a memory?¡± I was grateful he had yet to ask the details. ¡°Yes,¡± I answered. ¡°Was this memory of a point prior to receiving your Marks?¡± he asked. While in that memory, I had certainly received a multitude of markings, both physical and mental, they were not the sort of Marks that he was asking about. ¡°n-No¡­¡± The truth detector flickered and I felt a zap. ¡°y-Yes! I meant yes. It was before.¡± ¡°Hm. In the future, refrain from deceit. Did you reexperience any other periods of memory?¡± ¡°Nno?¡± ¡°You did not? Speak clearly.¡± ¡°No. It was just that one.¡± ¡°Did this memory contain the entity that granted you your Marks?¡± ¡°No.¡± At least, I was fairly certain that was not the case. ¡°Hm. Do you know or do you suspect the identity or description of the god and or goddess that granted you these Marks?¡± ¡°No.¡± But how would I know? Doubt started seeping in. If I had no idea who had granted me these Marks, then could I say with certainty I had never met them? What if it was Mother? But, how could she have¡­ the doubts from earlier compounded, and the pale green light flickered. ¡°You are unsure?¡± he asked. And then there was the bigger issue. The same issue I had back when Nick Delaney ¡®claimed¡¯ to have been sent here after death by the Greek god of death, Thanatos. ¡°I¡­ it¡¯s just¡­ gods don¡¯t exist¡­¡± I said, voicing one of my doubts, but trailing off under the winged man¡¯s dumbfounded expression. ¡°An atheist?¡± he asked. I winced. ¡°Agnostic?¡± I offered. He scoffed. ¡°In the face of undeniable proof, you would claim that? How much of the world have you not seen, to make such a foolish claim.¡± ¡°I¡­ haven¡¯t seen anything like that, though?¡± ¡°Pft. I would hope not. Divine elements are not permitted to roam free. Just look at the mess they¡¯ve made of the land.¡± ¡°The shattered barren landscape was them?¡± ¡°Yes. The Shattering. It is always odd when we come across atheists,¡± he said. ¡°As the evidence is clear. Tell me, from whichever ¡®realm¡¯ you arrived from, did they not have the divine?¡± ¡°No¡­¡± I said. ¡°Not that I saw evidence of anyways.¡± ¡°Fascinating.¡± He turned back to the table and began shuffling through what sounded like a sheath of papers. He found one in particular which he brought back and held outstretched before my face, practically touching my nose. Were it not for my nighteye, I would have found reading it difficult. Printed across it were lines of sigils, not dissimilar from what I had on my Marks. ¡°Yes or no,¡± he said. ¡°Can you read this?¡± I kept looking for a pattern among the sigils, but all I received for my efforts was a headache. ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡± ¡°Hm.¡± He turned back to the table and shuffled through the papers again, before returning once more, holding the paper before me, practically touching my nose. ¡°And this? Same question.¡± My skull still felt too tight, and I was hesitant to try again. ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°Did you make an attempt?¡± he asked. ¡°...¡± ¡°Do so, now. And do not attempt to fool me again.¡± I focused my eyes on the sigils. They swam before me. But they did make a sort of twisted sense. Words and ideas, none of it stringed together to make sense. ¡°Maybe?¡± ¡°Yes. Or. No.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I said. ¡°I can read the words. But nothing makes sense.¡± ¡°Progress.¡± He turned back to the table, once more digging through the papers, before returning once more and repeating the process. This time, the words made sense, and flowed in a pattern. They were Marks. Whatever I was looking at, was a Mark for greater strength, one for greater weight, and another for echoing steps. I might not have known exactly what each of those meant. But I could read it. ¡°And these?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I said. ¡°To confirm. You can read these markings?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Excellent. Then read to me what the sigils within your Mark say. Describe to me, your Godsmark. And I shall know if you attempt to deceive, I remind you.¡± I had been played. Not that I could have resisted, or steered the conversation. This Inquisitor appeared competent. Likely, any attempt at obfuscation would have been discovered. In the pause, he tapped my arm, one of the sweeping sigils on my forearm, with a metal pointer. ¡°Start with this. What does this say?¡± Stolen story; please report. ¡°Are you¡­ not able to read them?¡± I would have thought that a language that had been documented would already have been decoded. What was I missing there? ¡°You are not entitled to questions. Now read this. Out loud.¡± He was pointing towards the top of the markings, where they started. How he had found that in the midst of the swirling lines of symbols, I was unsure. Now, I had a choice. I could cooperate, and eventually reveal all that I could do to my captors. Or, I could resist, and likely receive torture. I strove for a middle ground. Revealing what was already known. Eventually, they would reach something I had yet to tell the humans. And when that point came, then I would decide. But for now? Now, I could answer. At least a little. ¡°Talents¡­¡± I started. He asked me to describe each one. He asked for my progress. He asked for the Major Glyph, Minor Glyph, and Sigil. I was unsure exactly what those were, so he explained. The Major Glyph would be the Talent, such as Stealth. The Minor Glyphs would fall under that, such as Eschiver. The Sigils below that, which I had yet to receive. We reached Spells. And while it pained me to confess I had them, it was something that was already known to Muleater. So I continued. And then, he came down to Blessings. I had never revealed I had any. But he knew there was something further. ¡°And what of this section?¡± he asked. I remained silent, debating my choices. What harm could come from revealing the category named ¡®Blessings?¡¯ It felt wrong. Blessings. They often went hand in hand with benedictions. I might not have known what they were, but whatever they were, they sounded religious. Considering that I had yet to prove I was Godsmarked, and considering the dire fate that likely awaited me if I was found to be one, I was incredibly hesitant to reveal anything that might corroborate with the Inquisitor¡¯s suspicions. The silence lapsed too long. ¡°This reluctance only harms yourself. It wastes our time. It wastes resources. Will you not relent in your stubbornness? In your fruitless waste?¡± I winced and thought fast. Was there anything I could tell him, that would throw him off? Could I pretend it was something else? Not without being caught by their lie detector. Could I change the subject? No. He was too good for that to work. That would likely only result in me revealing even more than I wanted to. I had no doubt he would twist whatever I said to gather even more knowledge of myself. ¡°No?¡± he asked after another pause. ¡°Last chance¡­¡± He trailed off, returning to the selection of tools, where he had left the pliers. Where the scalpels and forceps and saws and clamps were laid out. ¡°Very well,¡± he said with some distaste. ¡°Then, let us seek a more manual answer.¡± Ingestion 1.6.8.7 He picked up a set of pliers, glanced back towards me, then set them down with a huff. He glanced back towards me once more, particularly at my bare shoulder. He next picked up a razor, which he proceeded to rasp along a side of leather. ¡°Wh¨Cwhat are you planning on doing?¡± I asked. He ignored me, continuing to sharpen the razor blade instead. It reminded me of an old time barber. Or, more appropriately, of Sweeney Todd. What could I say that would prevent this? He wanted to know about my Blessings. If I revealed them, then I likely would suffer for it. But that was hardly a certainty. And this upcoming torture session likely was. A certainty, that was. Unless it was a bluff? If I was truly useful to the Crown, then he would hardly want to leave me in a permanent state of disrepair. Though, I was already damaged¨CI was missing an arm. Would he really want to keep me around? And did I know, as a certainty, that his original spiel was the truth? He might have been planning to do away with me from the start. Really, my best hope at survival currently was that Muleater would somehow intervene on my behalf. She did owe me. But I already knew just what humans thought of other species. The rasping stopped. He approached, with the now sharpened razor blade. He sneered in disgust at my shoulder, at my arm. He poked my fur covered skin with the blunt tip of the blade. ¡°This¨Cthis is a bit of an escalation¡­ yeah?¡± I asked, gulping in the middle, suddenly feeling much more nervous than I had. Intellectually, vivisection was much less frightening than it actually turned out to be, at least when seconds away. ¡°Likely this is wasteful,¡± he said. ¡°But you insisted. And there is possibility that an examination would be required regardless. Now, silence please, while I work.¡± I gulped once more. He brought the steel to my shoulder, dimpling the lilac fur. He swiped the blade upwards, across the grain of the fur. He scraped the fur, my skin beneath, leaving a trail of disturbed and marred flesh. He was not shaving away much skin, but enough. I had never experienced such awful razor-burn, but I supposed that was the equivalent. Soon, he progressed down my arm, quickly denuding the skin. Enough for him to papitate my veins, and the lines of silver from the Marks which ran besides those veins. Blood trickled down my arm, dripping onto the manacles and then the bottom of the chair. Incredibly awful razor burn. After far too long, while I grimaced and looked away from his barbaric shaving, he broke the silence. ¡°Fear not,¡± he said, prodding the largest of the veins of silver beneath the skin of my shoulder. I had never realized that the Marks had extended so far or so visibly up my arm. When he prodded the bare skin, already the patch felt too cold, with every air current in the pavilion made manifest on the suddenly nude flesh, but when he prodded it with cold metal, it was too much and I flinched. ¡°I said, fear not,¡± he repeated himself, prodding the trail of silver back down towards the actual Marks themselves. ¡°For the most part, verification is unnecessary. Only the circuitry of your base Godsmarks themselves need examination.¡± He finished prodding, right around where the Blessing and Talent sigils were tattooed in elegant sweeps and arcs across my forearms. ¡°Here. Here, we will start.¡± He turned back towards the table, letting the razor clatter noisily against the other metal instruments, and returning with forceps and a scalpel. The tools appeared greasy and soiled. He wore no gloves. It was far from sterile. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t consent to this,¡± I said, at first attempting a glib remark, but instead ending up sounding rather pathetic. ¡°That is not needed, nor is your cooperation.¡± The scalpel pressed down upon my skin. I hardly felt anything but pressure. The pressure grew. And then, a pop. Blood welled up and the scalpel slid slowly, sawing through the snags of my skin. ¡°Hnnng,¡± I gasped. ¡°Do you require gagging?¡± the Inquisitor asked. ¡°Nnnn¡­¡± I answered. I had to avert my eyes. My skin was peeling back. Tugging. Oh Motherswear it but it hurt! He continued speaking as he worked. Almost to himself, as I was in no state to respond. ¡°High Silver then? Was the divinity so supplied by treacherous ritual, or did the divinity spend themselves to infuse you. I perhaps see why they covered their tracks so well. They would not wish to be struck low should another discover their weakness¡­¡± The scalpel got stuck near the circumference of the mark. The forceps were engaged, twisting, diving, separating that which should not be separated. Layers of adipose exposed themselves to the air. I smelled Iron. No, blood. Why did that make me hungry? It hurt so bad. The scalpel slipped further, deeper. He swore. I screamed. Minutes stretch into an eternity. ¡°What madness is this?¡± he asked, more to himself than anything. He was ignoring the scream, not that I cared. I wanted to beg for mercy, for anything. Only once before had I felt such deliberate hurt. Had I not that experience, likely, very probably, I would have screamed and sobbed until I was gagged and hoarse. But, Mother had had similar operandi to the Inquisitor, at least that I could remember. Time stretched on and on until there was a blessful interruption. A knock. From the wooden post by the door. The pavilion flap swept aside. The Lady Trigg entered, followed by a woman marked with grace and poise and expensive raiments. Beyond that, I thought I saw Muleater and Kate, and several soldiers more. ¡°Most irregular Lady Trigg¨C¡± the Inquisitor began, before the second woman followed, leaving the Inquisitor sputtering ¡°-Princess Marissa!¡± He bowed. ¡°What brings the Crown¡¯s child to this unpleasant workshop?¡± Lady Trigg spoke on behalf of the princess. ¡°Her Highness has heard of a unique¡­ creature.¡± Lady Trigg finished, glancing towards me. ¡°Her Highness would not wish it irrecoverably damaged, and thought to intervene.¡± ¡°But¨C¡± ¡°Enough,¡± the princess said, causing Lady Trigg to take two steps to the left, giving the princess an unbroken line of sight towards me. And me, an unbroken line of sight towards her. Her eyes illuminated the dark, a neon purple. They peered at me, sweeping over me, glancing across my exposed skin, my fur, my tail, my wound, and the clamped open marks of my arm. She measured with but seconds. And then she gave her verdict. ¡°Mine.¡± That statement left shivers running down my spine. A part of me forgot the ongoing vivisection. A part of me twisted and clenched at the word, so forcefully uttered. Another part of me protested. ¡°Princess Marissa!¡± the Inquisitor said, somewhat unsure, and startled by the proclamation. ¡°Why do you damage what is mine?¡± the princess asked. Her eyes were still upon me. I could not bear to meet them, instead gazing upon the floor by her feet. Even then, I was torn. I wanted to praise her and beg her for intervention. I wanted to damn her for claiming ownership of a sapient intervention. I wanted her¨C ¡°Your Highness¡­¡± the Inquisitor trailed off, unsure of how to respond, but he did make an attempt. ¡°As Her Highness is likely aware, this is a prisoner, suspected of collusion with a divinity, and well within the Inquisition¡¯s Charter.¡± The princess tapped her chin. ¡°Is she infested?¡± she asked. ¡°Not that we¡¯ve found¡­¡± The Inquisitor trailed off. The princess turned to Lady Trigg, expectantly. ¡°No, Your Highness,¡± Lady Trigg answered. ¡°Expected,¡± Princess Marissa said. Then, back towards the Inquisitor. ¡°What divinity did she collude with?¡± ¡°We¨CI am not certain yet,¡± he said. ¡°Did the truth stone fail?¡± Princess Marissa asked. Her eyes narrowed, and the room dimmed slightly. ¡°Or¡­ did you fail to question her?¡± ¡°No, Your Highness, we question her.¡± ¡°Then why are you unsure? Unless you claim ineptitude.¡± ¡°She doesn¡¯t remember who Marked her,¡± the Inquisitor said, grimacing. ¡°But she clearly is. And on top of that, she¡¯s a criminally trained Kunbeorn!¡± Marissa¡¯s eyes widen fractionally, but in the way a manic person¡¯s would when they see a new project. ¡°Phenomenal.¡± ¡°No, not phenome¨C¡± ¡°You will not interrupt Her Highness,¡± Lady Trig scolded. ¡°Clean her up and bring her to my quarters,¡± the princess said. She turned and walked out, leaving Lady Trigg to implement her will. ¡°I strongly protest,¡± the Inquisitor said warily. ¡°Your complaints have been heard,¡± Lady Trigg said with a curt nod, before giving a playful smile. ¡°And your complaints have been subsequently ignored.¡± Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (1/9)
      • Featherlight (6/9)
  • Stealth I (5/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (1/9)
      • Area Coverage (1/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (3/9)
    • Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (6/9)
  • Closed
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.9.1 Lady Trigg remained standing as the Inquisitor tried, and failed, to negate the princess¡¯s orders. She was still smirking at the Inquisitor¡¯s sputters, at least she was until she heard a plopping sound. Another drop of my blood had hit the metal plate beneath the chair. Surprisingly, I was not gushing blood. But it left the few drops striking the metal all the more noticeable. She frowned. ¡°This is hardly an acceptable state,¡± Lady Trigg said, cutting through the Inquisitor¡¯s latest protestations. ¡°You¨C¡± she pointed at one of the soldiers standing guard. ¡°-Fetch a healing serum. You¨C¡± she pointed at the other soldier standing guard, ¡°-notify my second to prepare the strongest grooming kit. And you¨C¡± she pointed at the Inquisitor this time ¡°-release Her Highnesses pet at once.¡± ¡°-But¨C¡± ¡°-bahp-ba-bap-¡± Lady Trigg made the nonsense sound over the top of the Inquisitor. ¡°-feel fortunate that you were not punished for this oversight. Though¡­¡± her lips curled ¡°...that could change, should you so desire?¡± ¡°No, Lady Trigg.¡± The Inquisitor said, almost biting out. ¡°Should I release the prisoner now then? Or should we wait for the healing serum? I would not want to exacerbate the incision needlessly.¡± ¡°A fair point,¡± Lady Trigg said. She switched her attention back to me. ¡°Will you struggle and exacerbate your wounds?¡± she asked me. I shook my head, or tried to. The binding to the back of the chair made it difficult. ¡°No, ma¡¯am,¡± I said. ¡°No, Lady Trigg,¡± she corrected. ¡°And you had better not. There are many ways to break a new pet.¡± She did not sound like she hated that idea. The Inquisitor began freeing my manacles, starting at my wrist, then ankles, then waist, and finally head. However, a single piece of metal was left upon me, one I was hoping he was solely saving for last, and one I truly wished would be removed. I desired this so strongly I dared broach the subject. ¡°-and the collar?¡± I asked. The Inquisitor turned to Lady Trigg to see her response. ¡°Leave it. It suits her.¡± ¡°And seals her Marks,¡± the Inquisitor added. ¡°Which I remind were potentially proffered by a divine agent, and which we have yet to fully identify.¡± ¡°All the more reason.¡± The tent flap opened once more, and in stepped a soldier carrying a glass bottle¨Cit looked almost like an artisan water container. The glass was clear, the liquid sparkled, and the top appeared to be corked. ¡°Lady Trigg,¡± the soldier proffered the solution. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Must I do everything?¡± Lady Trigg asked. ¡°Apply it.¡± The soldier bowed his head and approached nervously. The Inquisitor was standing nearby, watching me carefully. The soldier stumbled on the metal plate, almost dropping the bottle. ¡°Fool,¡± Lady Trigg said, but did not move. The Inquisitor did, however, catch the soldier with a wing. The soldier winced and recoiled from the feathered touch. ¡°Give me that,¡± the Inquisitor said, grabbing the bottle from the man and easily over-powering his grip. ¡°As you say, Inquisitor,¡± the soldier said. I noticed that he did not bear the seal of the gavel, but instead the purple oleander. The Inquisitor popped the cork and tilted my head back firmly, forcefully, but not cruelly. ¡°Open,¡± he commanded. I obliged. He tilted the bottle back, pouring a dollop of the sparking fluid in. ¡°Swallow.¡± I did, feeling the effervescence on both my tongue and throat. A warmth spilled out from my skin, reminiscent of strong spirits, but without the hotness or foul flavor. As the serum worked, the Inquisitor re-corked the serum and thrust it back to the soldier. The soldier hesitated, but after a glare from the Inquisitor, and a scoff from Lady Trigg, took it. Meanwhile, the wounds along my right arm, where the Inquisitor had cut, began to close. The razor burn on my shoulder cleared. My fur remained shorn. My left side, while soothing, did not regrow. ¡°Bring her to the servant quarters,¡± Lady Trigg said, stepping out from the tent. ¡°I must see to the grooming supplies. Do not foul Her Highness¡¯s property,¡± she warned as she stepped out. The Inquisitor growled after she left, but he never took that anger out upon me. I was given the feeling that he was far too professional to do such. Instead, he calmly escorted me from the pavilion, while flanked by the same soldiers who had entered with Lady Trigg. The Inquisitor¡¯s guards remained in the pavilion. I wondered if there was a power play involved, not that I knew enough of the politics surrounding the princess. As we stepped out, the overcast sky seemed bright, and left me wincing. The Inquisitor never stopped moving, however, instead guiding me by the shoulder, towards another large tent. While I worked to regain my vision, I heard a slew of voices, chief among them was Kate. ¡°-hey! Where¡¯re you taking her!¡± she called. The Inquisitor remained silent, striding quickly and with purpose. I turned towards where her voice was, and I thought I saw her and Muleater, with Kate pulling forward, and Muleater holding her back. ¡°-Let go! Hey! Over here¨C¡± ¡°Silence,¡± the Inquisitor said. ¡°Lest you offend Her Highness.¡± ¡°-what?¡± Kate asked, her voice somewhere behind us now. Another tent flap opened, and the scent of chemicals, cleaners, overly-strong fragrances, and water flooded out. ¡°I leave the prisoner in your command,¡± the Inquisitor said. It was unclear who he was speaking to, but the soldiers that had escorted us shoved me into the tent, following after. ¡°In you get then,¡± a matronly voice said. ¡°And off you go,¡± the same voice said after the Inquisitor. The tent flap fell close behind me, and the scents grew that much stronger. ¡°Let¡¯s see what we have to work with. A right mess you are. Well, get the buckets.¡± I heard movements, and my eyes finally adjusted. Nobody was there that I recognized. The soldiers stood off to the side, and several women with firm and plain garb, firmer hands, and calluses were about. They carried with them another set of implements. Brushes, scissors, exfoliants, and a bucket of what almost smelled like bleach. ¡°A right mess indeed,¡± the matronly voice said again. I got a firm look at the woman. She was bigger than the others, and given by the deferential body language the other two women held, was in charge. ¡°Well, get the beastie scrubbed clean.¡± Ingestion 1.6.9.2
The next several hours passed in a painful blur. The matronly woman in charge, named Grett, was Lady Trigg¡¯s domestic second, which really meant Grett handled the actual maid duties that would ordinarily fall under the Princess¡¯s Lady¡¯s duties. Lady Trigg was apparently a fan of delegation. Grett had several maids douse me in a caustic white powder and brushed out the burs in my fur, working the powder in up to the skin. When some of the powder hit my stump, my still almost open wound, I hissed from the horrible sensation. Grett¡¯s reaction was to click her tongue, complain about damaged assets, and then brush the powder into the stump itself. I yelped from the contact, the soft metal bristles digging into the silver-covered wound, pushing the powder further in. I squirmed. I tried to escape Grett¡¯s administrations. But she tsked, and two other maids held me down and clamped my muzzle shut. It was humiliating. It was painful. They overpowered me and trussed me up like the groomers would to a mean dog. After the powder was brushed out, along with tangles, and the ¡®fleas,¡¯ which I still had yet to see evidence of, they shoved me into a metal tub. It had been ages since I had a bath. For a moment I hoped that at least I could gain something from this experience. And then one of the maids dumped a bucket of cold water over my head. Frigid. Surprisingly so. Since they had so brutally held my muzzle shut the last time I had complained, I gritted my teeth and maintained a stoic front. This was hardly the worst thing I had experienced. They used soap scented with jasmine and lavender. I assumed it was expensive, as Grett referred to it as the ¡®Princess¡¯s good stuff.¡¯ I found the scent enjoyable. At least until they got it in my eyes. And up my nose. They scrubbed it in. Then poured another bucket of cold water over my head. They rinsed. They repeated. I was humiliated. But finally, they pulled me from the bath, and they dried me with a coarse towel. If they were slightly less rough, I would have felt pampered. Then came a different set of brushes. My fur was left smooth and burrless, at least what fur I had left. Then came the oils, worked in through my fur and skin, leaving both silky soft. Then they forced me to sit upon a camp chair, and they fussed upon my claws. It was almost comparable to a pedicure. At least, it would have been, were it not for the forceful gripping of my ankles, of my arm, and were it not for the wet-stones they used. At the end, I had to admit, my claws were smoothed and they shined and they looked better than they ever had before. My fur was silky soft, and for once, I enjoyed having it. It was comparable to a luxurious coat that a wealthy woman might wear, and that certain organizations might paint-bomb. Grett fussed over me, then pulled me up from the camp chair. I was still naked, except for the collar. The very same collar that sealed my Marks and left me near helpless. I still needed to locate and abscond with the key. ¡°Can¡¯t have you runnin¡¯ about naked,¡± Grett admonished, ¡°And it doesn¡¯t matter what you savages normally like. It¡¯s not fitting.¡± Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. ¡°Agreed,¡± I managed to say, though I was unsure why I bothered at all. Especially as she continued speaking over me, uncaring of my thoughts. ¡°Besides, your flesh is for Her Highness alone, unless Her Highness decides to share.¡± Or unless I decided to share, as my body was my own, not that I bothered to correct the woman. As long as I got clothes out of this, I could refrain from further protestations. ¡°But what should she wear?¡± Grett asked. One of the lesser maids proffered their advice. ¡°Could wear servants¡¯ garb?¡± ¡°For Her Highness¡¯s pet?!¡± Grett scoffed. ¡°Too coarse.¡± ¡°Soldier¡¯s tunic?¡± ¡°Same problem, child.¡± ¡°Maybe Lady Trigg could offer¨C¡± ¡°-that¡¯s it! Those tea-robes. The off-set. We brought a spare, yes? Grab that.¡± ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡± The lesser maid scurried off and soon returned with a silken set of robes with long sleeves and a short bottom. It was plain maroon with black trimmings, and an oleander flower was embroidered over the heart. Grett fussed over the robe, and then gave me what could only be called a stink eye. ¡°Beastie,¡± she called me. ¡°This robe is worth more than you¡­ keep your claws from snagging it. Move carefully in it. Avoid damaging it, if you value your hide.¡± I almost wanted to ask, ¡®or what.¡¯ But I was not fool enough to taunt the woman. However, she almost seemed to feel my doubt, or my resistance. Or perhaps, she merely wished to stack upon the severity of the issue. ¡°Believe me, beastie. Damage these robes, shame me, us? You¡¯ll find lye soap to be the least of your worries. Never cross the maids.¡± As Grett finished, the lesser maids joined her in glaring at me. I swallowed any further protestations, and simply nodded. ¡°A-as you say,¡± I said. ¡°Good,¡± Grett said, almost harrumphing. ¡°Now slip this on.¡± The robe slid on easily. Luxurious. The sleeves were longer than my arm, and the bottom came down to my knees. If Lady Trigg were to wear the robes, they would barely cover her backside. But as I was shorter, the robe covered more. I was thankful for the modesty. One problem, however, was my tail. It rumpled the back of the robe, and left unseemly wrinkles in the fabric. The maids discussed the problem. They refused to modify the garment for the tail, but they worried that the unseemly ripples on the backside would offend Her Highness. Their solution was to tie a weight around the middle of my tail, so that my tail nearly dragged on the ground. It was only a temporary solution, until either Her Highness bored of me, or they returned to Southbridge. And with that, my humiliation with the maids was over. They stood me up, inspected their work, and then called me acceptable for camp expectations. One of the maids left the tent, and soon Lady Trigg came to collect me. She gave me a once over and nodded. ¡°Acceptable work, Second.¡± Grett almost blushed. ¡°My thanks, Lady Trigg.¡± Lady Trigg snapped her fingers at me and turned to leave. ¡°Heel.¡± I stood there in a confused shock, anger slowly building. I was not a pet dog. I was not. ¡°Best follow, beastie.¡± Grett gave me a nudge and I stumbled forward. Lady Trigg glanced over her shoulder and raised a brow. ¡°Some training required,¡± she stated. Without the key, I could not unseal my collar. And without my Marks, I could not even hope to resist, let alone escape. I had little choice but to oblige this petty tyrant. So I swallowed my pride, and I followed after her, reluctantly, head down. We exited the the maids¡¯ tent, and once again the difference between the gloomy tent and the exterior caused me to wince. Nevermind that the sky was a perpetual overcast. I wondered if some soap was still in my eye. I followed Lady Trigg as she confidently strode towards the centermost pavilion, the largest pavilion, and the one most ornamented. One of the soldiers catcalled. Lady Trigg tightened a hair, but made no move otherwise. ¡°Hey kitty! Show me the goods!¡± A female soldier shouted and laughed. Irritating. On so many levels. I did my best to ignore them all, to ignore the attention, to pretend I was invisible. Were I unsealed, I could have made myself invisible in truth. A familiar voice shouted as it approached. ¡°Lady Trigg!¡± Kate said, rushing towards us. Lady Trigg halted and turned to address her. ¡°Sir Guardson. What do you request?¡± ¡°What¡¯re you planning on doing with her?¡± Kate pointed at me. ¡°How much for her? Can I have her? Please?¡± Muleater called from the distance, ¡°Kate!¡± It appeared that Kate had gotten away from Muleater at some point. There was a commotion somewhere in the camp, presumably Muleater. ¡°The property of Her Highness concerns you not, Sir Guardson. I advise you return to your aunt and listen to her advice.¡± ¡°But¨C¡± Kate tried protesting. I dared to look at her. She was eyeing me with an almost desperate hunger. ¡°-was there anything else?¡± Lady Trigg cut Kate off. Kate steeled herself, and shook her head. ¡°No, Lady Trigg. Thank you for your time¡­¡± Muleater rushed from the crowd of soldiers and headed towards Kate with a stern expression. ¡°Then come,¡± Lady Trigg snapped to her side, referring to me with a simple glance. ¡°We must present you to Her Highness.¡± We left Kate and Muleater behind, and I followed Lady Trigg into the Princess¡¯s pavilion. Ingestion 1.6.9.3 ¡°Your Highness,¡± Lady Trigg called as she entered. She stuck a hand out as I stepped inside, and she grabbed my shoulder to halt me just inside the entrance to Princess Marissa¡¯s pavilion. It gave me a chance to adapt to the interior. The pavilion was lit with softly glowing lanterns, casting pale blue and purple light throughout the interior. A gray carpet had been laid out upon the ground, heavy enough that I wondered how it had been hauled. Wood and cloth partitions split the interior of the tent into rooms, with Lady Trigg and I in the receiving room, where a single high backed and padded chair stared down the entrance. A currently empty chair. It reminded me slightly of a court. ¡°Trinity,¡± Princess Marissa spoke from behind one of the partitions, her voice purer than silver. ¡°You know you can drop the formalities here.¡± ¡°That was only when we were alone, Your Highness,¡± Lady Trigg answered back, sounding somewhat embarrassed. She eyed me to see my reaction, but I took care to show none. ¡°Is someone else here?¡± Princess Marissa called back. ¡°Your newest pet, Your Highness.¡± ¡°Bring her in,¡± the princess said. ¡°Let me see her all cleaned up. Did they use my shampoo?¡± Lady Trigg took a quick and almost unnoticeable sniff. ¡°The maids did, Your Highness.¡± Lady Trigg guided me around one of the partitions, and another, into a smallish room. Princess Marissa was reclining on a couch, laying upon her side, her eyes roving over me as I entered. ¡°Cleaned her up well, at least.¡± ¡°They did, Your Highness.¡± ¡°Did my pet cause any troubles?¡± ¡°Not that I know of, Your Highness. Though there was an incident with Sir Guardson. I believe the girl is jealous of Your Highness¡¯s acquisition.¡± ¡°Might be worth looking into¡­¡± Princess Marissa said, tapping her chin. She was eyeing the empty left sleeve of my robe. ¡°Any regrowth specialists in camp?¡± ¡°No, Your Highness.¡± ¡°Unfortunate, but¡­ understandable.¡± ¡°You may leave us,¡± Princess Marissa said. ¡°See to the camp.¡± Lady Trigg bowed and stepped backwards until she was around the corner, when she turned and strode out, leaving me alone with Princess Marissa. ¡°Come,¡± Princess Marissa said, pointing to the carpet before the couch. I hesitated. ¡°Do not request me to give the command twice,¡± Princess Marissa added, some steel to her voice. As I was temporarily at her mercy, I had little illusions that I could resist the little things and have an opportunity to escape. So, I stepped forward. Slowly. Hesitatingly. There was little in this situation that excited me. And I was embarrassed. I was thankful that no one I knew and cared for was watching me submit like this. That thought reminded me that I really lacked friends altogether. A depressing thought. I reached the couch and stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do next. She continued inspecting me from her reclined position. She gave a lazy twirl with her finger. ¡°Spin.¡± I refrained from wincing, and I obliged, somewhat awkwardly. When I had my back towards her, she clicked her tongue. ¡°A shame. Stop.¡± I almost took another step in the turn before I caught her command. ¡°They were afraid of modifying the robe. Understandable. But that does my pet no favors. Hold still.¡± I was facing away, and I was sorely tempted to peek over my shoulder. But the weight of her person left me unwilling to break her commands. I wondered if it was some magic she had in place. There came a faint tug on the robe, and then the weight around my tail was released, allowing my tail to sway upwards, parting a new slit in the silken robe. ¡°Continue,¡± she said. Her words, while short, conveyed her desires more fully. It was difficult to describe, but each of her words carried many more which were technically unspoken. As I described, there was a weight there. My spin continued, slowly, per her desires, until I was once again facing her. ¡°Kneel.¡± I kneeled and refused to grimace. ¡°Good girl,¡± she said, patting my head and then petting behind my ears. What was worse, she was doing so without a demeaning or ridiculing intent. She was genuinely petting me. As though I were a pet. Which, I supposed, to her¡­ I was. At that thought, without intending it, despite resisting it, a shiver turned into a shudder, and my eyes watered. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Princess Marissa¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly, almost imperceptibly. ¡°A name,¡± she said. She stopped petting me, but she kept a hand on my head, with her thumb between my eyes, tracing along the spot between my muzzle and cheek. ¡°What to call you¡­¡± she led off, almost expectantly. This confused me, somewhat. Was she asking me, or was she thinking out loud. I found the words with conflicting intents. But if she was seeking something to call me, I could help. ¡°Jackie,¡± I said. ¡°Oh?¡± she said, her lips curling up just slightly. There was a malicious edge. A warning ran through my mind, but it came too late. I was committed. ¡°Short for Jackylyn,¡± I added. ¡°And you think to issue what I call you?¡± She said, playfully. ¡°...no?¡± I said, slowly, confused, and wishing I had never spoken at all. ¡°You did. And now¡­ you attempt to deceive me? This is unbecoming, pet.¡± Her hand tightened, and from petting, to gripping the hair atop my head, pulling my face backwards and upwards, so that she was looming above me. ¡°A lesson is due, then. Come.¡± She released me, throwing me backwards, more powerfully than I thought she should be able to, and she stood, carrying herself out of the room. Follow, pet. For your own good.¡± I rose back up and followed, though I hesitated. This Princess frightened me. We exited the room, and traveled further back into the pavilion, further away from the entrance, into a small room with a curious array of implements. She pointed at a wooden trunk, somewhat travelworn. ¡°Open that, pet.¡± I waited until I had stepped past her before I gritted my teeth. I knelt and felt along the edge of the trunk, finding the beaten bronze latch. It stuck, but with a bit of force from my single hand, I was able to flip it, and the heavy lid up and open. I carefully set it backwards, preventing any unnecessary noise or damage. When I saw what was in the trunk, my reservations grew. In short, it was bondage gear. From gags to straps and whips. My stomach twisted. ¡°I-I can¡¯t¡­¡± I stammered, falling backwards. The Princess was quick, moving fast enough it almost looked like a blink, and she caught me firmly. ¡°Now, pet. Is this proper behavior?¡± she asked. I lacked the courage to answer. With firm hands upon my shoulder and neck, she guided me to a ringed post. Why was there a ringed post there? How deviant was this woman?! ¡°Stay,¡± she commanded, before going back to the trunk. She returned with a satin leash and collar, with a delicate locking mechanism. She held it before me, allowing me to see them. They were black and glossy and layers thick. They were also soft. It was an odd take on restraints, but I supposed for her purposes they worked. ¡°Now, obedience. I do so enjoy instructing new pets.¡± She slipped the collar around my neck, above where the sealing choker was. She tightened it, with the buckle in the back, and then slipped the leash through it, before tying the leash against the ringed post. ¡°You will stay,¡± she commanded. And then, she went back to the trunk, before returning with a black riding crop. I shuddered away from where she rested it on my cheek. ¡°Now, the rules¡­¡± she started. ¡°First, speak only when permission is granted. Move only when permission is granted. Never. Never. Recoil from my loving¨C¡± Shouting came from the outside, easily passing through the pavilion¡¯s cloth walls. ¡°-embrace.¡± She glared at the walls, from where the noise had come. Finally, she shook her head and scoffed. ¡°Stay here, darling.¡± And with that, she left. She left me alone. I was alone. I was only by definition restrained. I made my move, undoing the knotted leash. It had not been tied tightly, almost asking for me to escape. Holding the leash in my hand, I crouched and snuck towards the nearest corner. The walls were tied to the ground, making it ordinarily impossible to move under. I used my claws to cut a slit up and down. The daylight was fading. There were soldiers jeering and laughing outside, along with strong admonishing reprimands from someone that sounded official. I needed to find the key to my collar, and then I would leave, return to the infested, and find a different path forward. This posed a challenge though. I remember who pocketed the key, and I recalled where they had gone after. The issue, though, was that they were in the Inquisition, and that was the opposite direction of where I wanted to go. But still, once I got that key, I could cast Illusions, and it would be a breeze to sneak out. I crouched around the side of the pavilion, ducking back as a soldier glanced my way. There was a group of them standing around, loitering, blocking my way. Rather than risking it, I went the other direction around the pavilion. The way was mostly clear, with a few soldiers running about their task, but not keeping a careful watch otherwise. I crouch ran towards the side of the Inquisitor¡¯s tent, making it without drawing any undue attention. I kept my ear to the fabric, listening for any evidence of someone in there. Unfortunately, I heard movement. It would make my job of sneaking in much more difficult. But night was coming, and I was sure an opportunity would arrive soon. I crept away from the tent, and found a set of crates, with one of them mostly empty, and only a layer of molded grain and corn at the bottom. I slipped in, and decided to wait. Every time someone walked by, about once every fifteen minutes, I felt my hackles raise, and fear tremble my heart. Slowly, darkness won out, and lanterns were lit. Surprisingly, no alarm was called out when I was discovered missing. Had the Princess just not returned, or had she returned and not cared? I found it hard to believe that she would allow me to escape lying down, which left me wondering if she was making quiet inquiries, worried of looking weak or foolish in front of her people. Odder actions had been taken by leaders in the past. Soon, it was time for me to risk another look. I poked my head out from the crate. The nearest lantern was moving away, marking where a patrol was. It was time. I slid the lid away and began creeping over the side of the crate, intent to keep as low of a profile as I could. ¡°Ready to stop playing then?¡± A voice asked from beside me. I jumped in fear, my hair standing upright, my tails bushing. How had I not noticed?! Lady Trigg was sitting on a nearest crate, with a book in hand and a bored expression. I bolted. I needed to escape, now. I took off running. But as soon as I hit the ground, Lady Trigg was there, hauling me up by the scruff of my neck. ¡°Let me go!¡± I protested. She clicked her tongue and shook her head slowly. ¡°No. I don¡¯t think I will. In fact¨C¡± she tapped the tip of my nose ¡°-every sound from your mouth from here on out will add ten lashes. Her Highness has left your obedience training in my care, and I refuse to disappoint.¡± Ingestion 1.6.9.4 If I had to decide which was worse, the Inquisitor or Lady Trigg, I would be hard pressed to decide. Lady Trigg had led me back to the princess¡¯s pavilion, where I once again found myself leash. Bizarrely enough, Lady Trigg once again tied a simple knot to secure my leash to the ringed post. It was curious. I wanted to ask. But I remembered what she had claimed: ten lashes for each time I spoke. Besides, leaving the means of escape available would only make escaping easier later, whatever Lady Trigg¡¯s motivations for re-using an already defeated security measure. Lady Trigg must have read the confusion upon my face, as she tapped the knot as she sat herself on the top of the post, so that her knees were at my eye level. She loomed and she smirked down upon me like an all to smug goddess of ill-fortune and sadism. ¡°Let me make clear my expectations for you,¡± Lady Trigg started. ¡°As punishment only works if the subject knows what they¡¯re punished for¡­ the same for rewards in fact. Undoubtedly, you have questions. I can see it in your eyes. A sharp mind. Undoubtedly, you have abilities. Or had, perhaps¡­¡± Her eyes lingered on the stump of my arm. She crossed her legs and leaned back, despite the fact there was nothing for her to lean upon. With her perched upon the narrow post, her balance was remarkable, along with the fact that she appeared comfortable. ¡°For your earlier escape, you will of course, be punished. Have no fear of that.¡± She nodded, as though that cleared up some of my uncertainty. I winced. Her smirk only grew. ¡°Now then, ground rules¡­¡± She paused, her smirk turning uncertain. ¡°You understand that much, yes? Without knowing your past training, indeed, if you had any at all, it should not be assumed that you understand.¡± ¡°No, I¡­ I understand,¡± I bit out. Her uncertain facade dropped, and she smiled, almost laughing. ¡°Ten lashes, keep count. Now, first rule: speak only when instructed or permitted.¡± I had been tricked? But¡­ why? I wanted to ask, but I held my tongue, not wishing to worsen whatever fate Lady Trigg had in store for me. ¡°You may wonder why I baited out a response from you,¡± she said, accurately. ¡°Tricks such as this are mild compared to a royal house, and you will be expected to perform admirably, or consequences will be most dire. You see, pet, I only have your best interests at heart.¡± Her cruel smile failed to carry any warmth. I nodded all the same though, not wanting to upset her. I would need to be wary. I should have already been wary. I should have never followed that mothersworn Muleater. ¡°Next, likely obvious, but perhaps not. Kneel when royalty arrives, rise only when permitted explicitly, and never make unrequested eye contact. Never match gazes with your superior, unless it is forced by that very same superior. Even one such as you will know if that occurs.. I may have grimaced while looking up at her, realizing I had been matching gazes with her this entire time. Did she count as royalty? ¡°Ten lashes. I hope you¡¯re keeping count, pet.¡± I suppose she did. Unfortunately. I averted my gaze towards the floor. Lady Trigg was reminding me far to much of- She let herself down from the post, landing gracefully, despite her skirts. She sauntered around me, almost daring me to glance her way. And indeed, I did watch her, but from a downturned face, and from the corner of my eye. How could I not? She arrived at the trunk, and pulled the very same riding crop that Princess Marissa had teased against me. I wanted to groan. A shiver ran through me. An unholy mixture of both self-loathing, and excitement, which left me feeling even more shame than before. She snapped the riding crop against the side of my neck. It stung, but not overly much. My fur doing much to blunt the sharpness of it. ¡°Disrobe for your punishment, pet.¡± Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. I hesitated. Before, whenever the humans wanted me ¡®disrobed,¡¯ they would manually strip me of my possessions, unbearing my shame. I had never done so voluntarily. Would doing so make it better, or worse. I was uncertain. ¡°Now.¡± The riding crop hit the same spot upon my neck, smarting just a little bit more. Still undecided if it was better or worse, I obliged the command, allowing the silken robe to trail off my skin and land around my feet. ¡°Ten more lashes, for the delay.¡± A sharp sting arrived from the inside of my left thigh, my tail swished of its own volition, in its own protest, attempting to cover the angle from which the attack came. ¡°Now. While I enjoy my games, the same as Princess Marissa, it is important to know when we¡¯re playing. Assume that we are not, and we shall tell you otherwise. Unless commanded to do so, never struggle. Never protest. You will be informed, otherwise.¡± That left me cringing. Not that they wished my compliance, but what they expected me to inherently comply to. It left me sick. Another sting, this time upon my right cheek. The lashes were better than vivisection by far. In fact, it could be argued that this was someone¡¯s idea of a good time. But it was not mine. No, not, at, all. She continued with her administrations, while expounding upon the rules. ¡°Speaking of games. Escape is a game that must be initiated by your mistress. Though, I suppose, there are sometimes unspoken permissions¡­¡± she tapped the riding crop in her hand, over and over and then¨Cthwap¨Cstruck my left side. I bit back a yowl. ¡°Next up, Proper Grooming: You absolutely must take care of your appearance. A mangy pet is absolutely undesirable. It¡¯s surprising that Her Highness saw through your mess at all, though always an eye for potential, that one¡­ What this means? Not a hair out of place. Manicured nails. Conditioned. Proper facial care. Calisthenics. ¡°But do not fear, for this is a pampered life¨C¡± Thwack! She struck my right side this time. Then my neck, then the base of my tail. A small whimper escaped. ¡°Rejoice at your fate. Foods for your coat will be given, and no expense will be spared to maintain your desirability. Though, from grooming, I must broach a perhaps unpleasant but necessary subject. Toilets. Another strike, this time around the front, to my chest, landing on my bottommost left nipple. Another yelp. ¡°Ten more. It is rude to interrupt, pet.¡± Oh, I was the rude one?! I began fantasizing of sinking my claws into Lady Trigg¡¯s throat. Perhaps that would be game enough for her. ¡°But as for making water, or waste¡­ it has been the better part of a day since you were recovered, and not once has it been observed, of you making a mess. And in fact, before the Lieutenant parted with us, she reported that she also had the same observations. Do I take this to mean that whatever Marks you have been given have blessed you with the inability to make waste?¡± I caught myself before I answered. I held my tongue. Not even daring to nod. ¡°Answer.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I said weakly. ¡°I don¡¯t need¨C¡± ¡°Ten more.¡± For what?! I almost shouted. ¡°This is a blessing, I am sure. If your imagination cannot capture what a guaranteed clean exit provides, then I am sure Princess Marissa will delight in educating you. That finishes the immediate notables. Now, you are clearly Marked, and clearly, have some ability. What you have been put to use for in the past, and what you may do in the future, may overlap, or may not. Your primary role, however, will be providing entertainment.¡± ¡°Logistics. A personal groomer will be assigned for you. You will be expected to follow their instruction. If you are fortunate, they may escort you on guided walks through Her Highness¡¯s estate. But this is in the future¨C¡± She struck me again and again, often returning to a previous spot, and adding to the smarting bruise. ¡°-and for names¨C¡± A horn blew from far away, splitting the air and leaving my ears laying flat against my skull. The blows stopped landing, as Lady Trigg listened. The horn blew thrice more, two short, and one long. ¡°An attack?¡± Lady Trigg said, more to herself than anything. ¡°It appears the wyrkwik make their move then. Without the others here, I should supervise.¡± She sighed as she pressed the crop against the top of my nose. ¡°Never despair, pet. I shall return after this bothersome chore.¡± She set the crop down upon the trunk and walked to the entry where she paused. I dared not look behind me, lest I ruined my chances, or encouraged further punishment. ¡°And pet?¡± she asked. ¡°Do not escape. Or do¡­¡± She trailed off with a wicked grin. ¡°I could use entertainment myself, and Her Highness has granted me some degree of freedom with your training. Especially if you prove recalcitrant¡­¡± She licked her lips and left, chuckling like the sadist she was. The horns blew again. The camp outside was rousing. Men were calling out, and Lady Trigg shouted orders. I thought I heard the Inquisitor¡¯s voice as well. If there was an attack, if the mucary were here, then this would be the perfect chance to escape. Or, I could wait and see and hope for a rescue¨C No. I needed to take initiative. These people were insane. I had to escape. So, just as before, I untied my leash. I slipped the robe back on to cover my nakedness. I escaped out into the night, heading away from the sounds of battle. This time, I refrained from seeking the key. I would have to hope that Emboru could help remove this collar. Surely, there must be a way to remove it. I hoped. Ingestion 1.6.9.5 Soldiers were tripping over themselves as they slipped on their boots and belts, stumbling towards the source of the horns. In the distance, along with the horn, I heard the crack of what might have been gunfire. The camp frothed in turmoil. I would have likened it to a nest of ants, but ants organized themselves far better than these soldiers did. It was to be my advantage, I was sure. I made my own hasteful exit from the very same hole in the canvas wall that I had made earlier. But this time, rather than aiming for the Inquisitor¡¯s pavilion, I hid behind the first tent I saw, angling away from the battle. As I ran from the pavilion, over the clearing, towards the nearest circle of tents, a soldier came tumbling forward, pulling their pants up with each step, cursing the gods and captain alike. I near ran head first into him, only diving to the side and narrowly avoiding disaster. My stomach hit the ground hard, a muscle over my left ribs strained, and I slid across the gravel. The soldier continued on, failing to notice the clattering of my own fall. A flare had shot up in the distance, which might have ruined his night eye. Or he was unobservant. Either way, he soon passed by, and I made it to the first line of tents, simple single tents that the soldiers kept, barely tall enough to crouch in, and just long enough for a person to lay. I ducked down immediately, using the tents to break my outline. The center of the camp was an open space, filled only with the Princess¡¯s and Inquisitor¡¯s pavilions. Once past that open space, there was a relatively ordered circle of clean tents. But beyond that? Things grew messy. The further from the center, the more haphazard they became, with sagging centers, skewed orientation, and in some cases, somehow merged with their neighbors. It was bizarre, and I wondered how these soldiers had ever gotten anything done. Had I followed the avenue in and out of the center of the camp, then I would have already been free. Except the main thoroughfare was obviously in use, both with runners, and besides, it ran closer to the ongoing battle that I wished to oblige. I was coming across one monstrosity of a tent, where three of them had somehow been stacked together and upwards, when I tripped. The leash I had been trailing got caught on a stake, pulling my neck backwards, choking me. In my distraction, I failed to see the rope holding up a corner of the tent; I tripped; I fell into the tent. The canvas held my weight for a second, before a rope loosed, a stick snapped, and the canvas caved in, with the roof falling down upon me. ¡°H-huzzah?¡± a groggy female¡¯s voice called from inside the partially collapsed tent. ¡°W-whazz¨C¡± I sprang back to my feet, pulling myself free from the twine and the canvas, taking hold of my leash and wrapping it loosely around my arm. I hurried away. The woman began swearing and cursing from the tent. ¡°Gods take ¡®em! Cap! What¡¯s¨Chuh?¡± I never heard the resolution of her tantrum. Soon, I reached the rear perimeter of the camp. I was free. Granted, still was I sealed, and my abilities still locked away. But bodily, but otherwise, I was free. In my joy, I stretched my legs, increased my pace, and headed for the hills encircling the back of the camp. Unfortunately, just because there was a battle, did not mean that the camp¡¯s perimeter went unwatched. ¡°Halt!¡± a soldier cried from nearby, a man who had been almost invisible in the shadows from where he had been crouched. ¡°Halt! Deserter!¡± he cried. Rather than futilely attempting to justify myself, or trick the soldier, I took off, running as fast as I could. But I was still weak. I was famished. I had been through much recently. Grubby hands latched onto the fluttering trailing edge of my robe. The silk jerked me back, I kept pushing forward¨Cthe fabric ripped. I continued for a split second, thinking I was free. But then my neck jerked back, I was coughing, choking. The leash, the leash! The soldier had somehow grabbed it, it must have come free from my arm at some point. He used it to yank me back. ¡°Eh¨Cnot a deserter at all! Who¡­ who brought a kunny?¡± I needed to break free. I refused to go back. To suffer any more degradations at the hands of these humans. But with my marks sealed, I was lacking most of my kit. Except¡­ I still had some. I snapped my jaws at the man¡¯s face, causing him to flinch back. ¡°No reason to snap at me¡­ I¡¯m sure the battle¡¯ll be over soon anyways. Understand your spooked, but you wouldn¡¯t want your master to¨C¡± No more. I swiped his face with my claws, my nails diving in through his cheek, carrying up to his eyes. He swore and fell back. I yanked my leash free, or tried to. He gripped it too tightly. I swiped at the satin leash. My claws did some damage, but not much. Again I swiped. ¡°Try being nice, this is what I get,¡± he groused, unsheathing a dagger. ¡°Figure out who brought you and get restitution, is what I¡¯ll do. Godslickin animals.¡± If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Another swipe at the leash, with the combined tension of my pulling, it snapped. I fell backwards. Rolled. Pinched my tail. Felt a sharp piece of shale jab into my side. And then I was running. The man gave chase. But his face was bleeding, he was partially blinded, and the night was dark. I heard him trip behind me. I continued onwards. Up into the hills. There was shouting, but it was falling further behind. I was free. Free! But I was still bound, my abilities still locked away. I needed help if I were to survive these wastes. I needed to reach the mucary, and hopefully before they abandoned their valley. Fortunately, I knew just where they were. I began circling around on the hills, never violating a ridgeline. Soon, I reached a hidden spot in the cleft of a boulder which had a vantage overlooking the battle. The infested had taken the field in a chaotic mess. They grouped near the line of the camp, but further out they came in clumps with space between them. Their speed was not unified. The smaller creatures moving more slowly than the larger, and the ones in better condition outstripping the worser. There were hundeor and marmots, with meorhs further back, pressing their way forward. While the mucary outnumbered the humans, there were many more mucary corpses than humans, and the humans appeared to be rallying in three separate categories. The first line of humans wielded swords and kept the mounds surrounding the camp free of the infested. The next line carried pikes, supporting the swordsmen. The final row, which seemed to be scarcer, and composed largely of officers, used the artificed weapons, none of them uniform, but most of them firing with either a bright light or a loud retort. While I was not an expert, it appeared that the humans were winning. Which was strange. As there should have been many more infested than had taken the field below. I pondered what strategy Emboru was plotting when I recognized Lady Trigg on the battlefield. Surprisingly, she did not remain safely behind the human lines. Instead she had pushed out past the mound of stone, and was a dervish of blades, one in each hand. She moved too quickly for me to get a clear view on how she was moving, but wherever she spun, the infested fell. A shadow flew by, and from the lantern light of the camp, I saw flickers dropping. Explosions wrecked the largest groups of the infested. I got a better look at the shadow. All I saw was a silhouette with two very large wings. I thought it might have been the Inquisitor, but I could not tell for certain. If it was him, then he was likely dropping alchemics. The infested were surely done for. I began to duck away from the battle, sneaking further away into the night, while I had the chance. My first order of business was getting the hill between myself and the humans, and then as much distance as I could before daylight came. Not the best of plans, but certainly better than trusting Muleater. I had just reached the ridgeline when I heard the screams of pain. They seemed to be sourced from further into the camp. Curious, I crossed the ridge and crouched low, providing as small a profile as I could. A giant was on the field, swaying in a dance of many tentacles, slicing through flesh and bone obstacles. There were so many more mucary down below than there had been before, and they were coming from all directions. It appeared that Emboru had flanked the humans, and that they themselves had taken the field. Lady Trigg charged Emboru, but a tendril snagged her around the waist. Before she could cut it down, it tightened, garotted, and split the woman in two. Instead of guts, though, she melted into a wave of sand, completely disappearing. The Inquisitor landed in the center of the camp, giving hasty commands, before taking a small chest and flying back up, making haste away, and fighting off the infested vultures that were dive bombing the camp. The Inquisitor kept flying, retreating from the battle, and leaving the soldiers to their own fate. Notably, I never saw signs of Kate nor Muleater, though I could not have checked through all of the humans, for there were many. I continued watching, feeling safer now than before. Soon, the last of the humans had been sequestered, with many taken captive, tied with vines, and dragged along back towards the valley. I continued watching dumbly, unaware of the minutes. In such a short span of time, there had been much death. More than I had ever seen or heard or experienced. Men had cried out, women had screamed, and worst of all was the scent on the wind of blood and offal. My stomach betrayed me, expressing its hunger. I wanted to feel sick, but all I felt was starvation. While I watched, I wondered what my next course of action should be. I needed to unseal the collar, to make contact with Emboru, and re-finalize our deal, if it was even still valid. A moment¡¯s panic struck: what if Emboru no longer required me for their purposes? Would they do to me the same that they would inflict on the human captives? Infestation¡­ I shuddered at the prospect. Just as I decided to hide out, to take a wait and see approach, an infested meohr trudged up the hillside, towards me, making it clear that the meohr already knew of my location. There were vultures in the air, Emboru¡¯s eyes. I had been deluding myself to even think that I might have gone unnoticed. There would be no escape. I began trudging down the hillside to join the meohr halfway. In a daze, I was escorted towards the tentacled giant, towards Emboru. When I reached them, Emboru tilted their tulip shaped head. I grimaced. ¡°Not much of a choice. Their leaders had different plans for me. Speaking of¨C¡± I tapped the metal collar at my neck, ¡°-any chance you could help remove this? It needs an artificed key from somewhere in camp.¡± Their words should have been reassuring. They should have been. But watching the infested reclaim their fallen, using tendrils and vines to stitch bodies back together¡­ the words were less than reassuring. I hoped they found the key. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (1/9)
      • Featherlight (6/9)
  • Stealth I (5/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (1/9)
      • Area Coverage (1/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (3/9)
    • Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (6/9)
  • Closed
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.9.X Kate marched forward, relying on her Body Sigil to keep pace with the other soldiers and the Princess¡¯s carriage up in front. To her left, Aunt Janet kept pace, continuing to¡­ lecture Kate? Kate was not exactly sure. Gregory Silverborn, lacking any body enhancements, was riding in a supply wagon towards the back, where the worst of the dust was kicked up. Kate still refused to talk with the boy, after the stunt he pulled back at camp. Would Jackie have been claimed by the inquisition if he had kept his trap shut? In fact, the reason Kate was heading back to Southbridge now, in minor disgrace, was because of him. He was going to have to earn his way off of her profane-list. ¡°...you must control yourself in the presence of the gentry!¡± Aunt Janet droned on, as she had been doing, ever since Lady Trigg had reprimanded Kate. Ever since the ¡®adults¡¯ had decided that Kate would be better off returning to Southbridge. Despite the fact that she had never achieved her original purpose of chartering a caravan northwards. ¡°Still need to get that Sigil¡­¡± Kate complained, expressing what she was truly thinking upon. Aunt Janet groaned. ¡°Do you even know what the consequences for losing the caravan will be?¡± ¡°No¡­ but does it matter?¡± Kate responded somewhat cheekily. ¡°Yes it matters! Yes, of course it does! We were contracted to provide security. We are the sole survivors. All else was lost.¡± ¡°Not the alchemist though.¡± ¡°And that is perhaps the one mitigating factor. There was no clause for betrayal¡­ which could go either way. But if not¡­ do you want to know how many Chargers a caravan like that is worth? How much we might be obligated to pay?¡± A twinge of momentary discomfort accosted Kate, but she squashed it down. ¡°What of it?¡± Kate responded, purposefully ignoring the creeping doubts. ¡°They can¡¯t go after us. We have¨C¡± ¡°-that¡¯s where you¡¯re wrong,¡± Aunt Janet said. ¡°They can and probably will try levying fines against our house, and if not us, then the Low and High Guard respectively. What happens if the courts agree with them? What then?¡± ¡°Go to the Baron? Protest it? It really isn¡¯t our fault¡­ I mean¡­ Charson drew an army down upon us. Not much we could have done, yeah?¡± ¡°We will have to see,¡± Muleater said. ¡°We should have gone with a standard contract. At least then we¡¯d know what we¡¯d be facing. Crown save us, we can only hope those godslickin vultures choke on paperwork¡­¡± Aunt Janet likely would have continued her lecture, and that was what it definitely was, except for a servant that approached from the front. The servant belonged to Princess Marissa, and wore her colors and markings, a purple flower embroidered on a jacket lapel. While the servant may have attempted to keep the clothing clean, travel dust had a way of persistently sticking. Still though, Kate had to give the servant props for trying. ¡°Kate Guardson?¡± The servant asked. ¡°Sir Guardson,¡± Kate corrected. She also would go by Sir Kate, but that was less formal of an address. A mere servant ought to have known that though. Aunt Janet lifted an eyebrow at the encroaching servant. ¡°Do you carry a message? Have plans changed since we laid them?¡± ¡°No, Lieutenant. But Her Highness has requested an audience.¡± Awfully formal language, considering they were all on the road and making haste. ¡°And did Her Highness give a reason?¡± Aunt Janet asked, stressing the honorifics. It was no secret that the knights generally held a poor impression of the scions of the Crown. Especially when they installed pseudo-legal enforcement teams. ¡°No,¡± the servant answered, almost sniffing derisively, but not quite. ¡°Her Highness requires it now however.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± Aunt Janet said, picking up the marching pace to a jog in order to catch up with the Carriage at the front. ¡°Pardon, Lieutenant. But not you. Her.¡± The servant pointed at Kate. Aunt Janet scowled, but waved Kate forward. ¡°Be on your best behavior,¡± Aunt Janet advised. Kate nodded and increased her pace, loping towards the front. Kate¡¯s height made the stride seem far more casual than most anyone else. It was due to the blood from her father¡¯s side. She outpaced the servant, certainly, who struggled to regain upon the carriage and his seat adjacent to the driver. Kate reached the carriage and paced alongside it, unsure of what to do next. She hardly wanted to just knock upon a Princess¡¯s door. And what a door it was. Enameled and black with red trim and lilies painted upon them. The entire carriage was likely finer than anything Kate would ever call her own. The servant finally caught up, breathlessly, and pulled an almost hidden rope hanging from the seam of the door. A faint and light bell rang inside. ¡°Enter!¡± a woman called from within. The servant hopped up to the step and opened the door, while stepping aside. He gestured for Kate to step up. And Kate, obliged. The interior of the carriage was lit by two lanterns, and had a lush but darkly adorned interior. Two velvet cushioned benches faced each other, and on the rearward bench, there the princess sat, wearing a pair of spectacles and reading over large loose papers. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°Sir Guardson, step in.¡± ¡°Y-your Highness,¡± Kate said, unsure of what was happening exactly. The servant gave her a helpful nudge, and Kate bent down to fit herself into the carriage. She made a bow, and the princess gestured to the far bench. ¡°SIt. Let us talk.¡± Kate tried keeping her face neutral. It was just¡­ the velvet was pristine, it was a dark color, and it would surely show all of the dirt and grime that Kate had brought with her. The last week had hardly given her a chance at proper hygiene. And now she was in an enclosed space with a princess? The very same princess that had tried stealing away Kate¡¯s property? Well, saved that property from the inquisitor, but still! That would have never happened if not for Gregory. ¡°I insist,¡± the princess said, her tone firm and unyielding. Kate grimaced but she sat and sank into the too soft seat, one that was too small for her large frame, and left her bending forward awkwardly. If the princess noticed the awkwardness, she kept it to herself. ¡°You might wonder what I would wish for such a humble warrior?¡± the princess asked. ¡°Knight.¡± ¡°Hm?¡± Kate¡¯s pale face paled just a bit further as she realized her mistake. ¡°Knight, Your Highness.¡± ¡°The question stands. You are wondering, I know you are. But let me ask you a question first. Why were you traveling north to Bath to begin with? Knights are hardly common fare for caravan guards.¡± Kate saw no harm in responding. ¡°Yeah, I was hoping to get another glyph, your highness. I just recently evolved my sweord glyph to include a battle sense, and I hoped to improve myself further.¡± ¡°But why the rush?¡± Kate shrugged. There really was no good reason, besides impatience. Kate saw that now. ¡°Perhaps, you desired a leg up on the next term of the Academy?¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ I mean, yes, your highness.¡± The princess nodded in understanding, and Kate wondered once again what the purpose of this was. The princess had a certain reputation, and it was hardly for idle or purposeless chatter. Marissa folded the papers and set them to the side, before leaning forward and staring at Kate intently. Kate found herself swallowing nervously. ¡°Your Highness?¡± Kate asked. ¡°That¡¯s better,¡± the princess leaned back. ¡°Now. Tell me of the lilac colored kunbeorn with cyan eyes. The one you traveled with.¡± Kate did not appreciate the way this discussion was heading at all. One of the reasons that she had been sent home before a potential battle, besides the potential battle part, was that Kate had made something of a scene regarding the kunbeorn. Kate cleared her throat, licked her lips, and in an altogether too tight of a voice, spoke, ¡°S-salvage rights, Your Highness. ¡°Found her, c-claimed her. By right¡­ she¡¯s m-mine¡­¡± ¡°Yes, about that. You are likely unaware of this, but the creature was Godsmarked.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not true!¡± Kate protested. The princess¡¯s eyes narrowed, and Kate added, ¡°Err¡­ Your Highness, I mean.¡± ¡°The creature had a very interesting Blessing. Obsession. Now tell me, have you found yourself with your thoughts consumed for this creature? Beyond reason? Beyond the realm of expected and established behaviors?¡± ¡°No¡­?¡± ¡°Be truthful. This is for your benefit, not mine.¡± The kunbeorn had been interesting, fascinating, and physically attractive. Where, Kate had never found non-humans attractive before. But, that was surely just a coincidence? She could not quite manage to force herself to believe that. ¡°H-how do you know this?¡± Kate asked, hoping to find some hole or lie in the princess¡¯s claims. ¡°Inquisition,¡± the princess said bluntly. ¡°B-but¡­ was it like¡­ Velvetcall?¡± Kate said, recalling a single instance where one of the princess¡¯s own blessings had potentially used an ability of mental influence. It was strange that the princess would be one to judge. But then, was the princess judging? ¡°This is about you, and your best interest. Would you truly wish to claim salvage rights over such a manipulative animal? One that has befouled your very self?¡± Kate winced. While she understood what the princess was saying¡­ She found it hard to even consider parting with the creature. Which was one of the reasons Aunt Janet had had to force Kate to come along when leaving the camp. ¡°I see its claws are deep within your mind,¡± the princess said, with a sigh and a disappointed shake of the head. ¡°For your own best interest, allow me to claim rights in your stead.¡± Kate was at war with herself, attempting to find any foreign influence. How could she even tell if it was there? But one thing was clear: the princess was attempting to manipulate Kate, to rob from her. Royal scion or no, Kate would not just roll over and present her belly. ¡°N-no, I don¡¯t think that would be necessary, Your Highness¡­¡± ¡°Its manipulations run deeply then,¡± the princess said thoughtfully. ¡°Perhaps, I could outweigh its influence. Would you consider revoking your claims for a Greater Sigil?¡± That¡­ Kate wanted one. Though, there were leagues of differences between Sigils, from quality, to purpose, depending on who installed them, and with what medium. ¡°Performed by my personal Sacred Artist. And you would select the living stone, of course. Surely this would tempt you? Were you not to travel to Bath to receive just a Greater Glyph?¡± The difference between what the princess was offering and what Kate had been seeking in Bath was quite large, with the princess¡¯s offer being perhaps three times as useful¡­ and by selecting the medium of the ink, Kate could focus the ensuing glyphs towards relevant directions: like the grace of a swordswoman. But still¡­ Kate felt torn. Which, now that she thought of it, might be evidence that she truly had fallen to some nature of supernatural mental manipulation. ¡°And then, there is the Academy. Did you know that I maintain a seat on its board of educators?¡± An implicit threat. An explicit bribe. And to compound it all, Kate felt slightly betrayed. The creature, Jackie, Kate thought its name was, had lied to her. Had manipulated her. It left Kate feeling sullied. Dirtied. She shuddered in disgust. But¡­ this was all according to the princess. Had Kate seen any actual proof? Jackie had always been recalcitrant when it came to exchanging affections. That did not seem the behavior of one who had decided to forcibly seduce. Or was it seduction? No, the princess had called it obsession. And Kate was undoubtedly obsessed. Had Gregory been correct? The princess seemed to know that Kate was on the verge of acquiescing. ¡°Or¡­ you could push your claim, and I could push mine. You would receive nothing. Except, perhaps, the interest of the Inquisition?¡± Godsloving madness. Kate had no choice at all. She could either get something valuable out of it, or suffer, and lose Jackie anyways. And Jackie had¡­ maybe¡­ perhaps unknowingly¡­ abused Kate¡¯s goodwill. ¡°What¡­ what will you do with her?¡± Kate asked. ¡°Hm? The creature?¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ Your Highness.¡± ¡°That is for me to know.¡± Princess Marissa smiled, leaning back further into the seat, relaxing. ¡°Do you revoke your claim then?¡± Kate really had no choice at all. ¡°Y-yes¡­ Your Highness.¡± Ingestion 1.6.10 at least, it felt like they did. My sense of time was lacking. I could not see the sky, and there was no meal service. The room had also come with pre-stocked travel rations and a water barrel. It had to have been planned out somewhat. And honestly, I wondered if Emboru was just that out of touch with what people needed. Though, arguably, it had everything I needed. Eventually, I had enough solitary confinement. I needed something¡­ more. So, I poked my head out of my room, and into the tunnel network. There was an infested human partially embedded in the dirt wall of the tunnel. Vines partially subsumed the human into the wall. It must have been claustrophobic, but the human seemed at peace. Likely, that state of mind had something to do with the infestation taking root. I shuddered. ¡°H-hel-p-p Y-youu?¡± the infested human sputtered and croaked. I grimaced again. Several tendrils worked their way through the human¡¯s lips, and were visible inside its mouth when it spoke. ¡°Ugh,¡± I struggled to mask the disgust. But on a second attempt, I came closer to a courteous response. ¡°Yes, please¡­ May I leave?¡± The infested human croaked without speaking, its tendrils snapping across its chest and into the dirt wall. A near imperceptible shudder traveled through the wall. The motion drew my eye to the nearly completely hidden, mostly submerged, tendrils or roots that laced through the dirt. They were spiderwebbed and fine and absolutely had just relayed some manner of message. The infested human shuddered once more. ¡°N-n-nooot y-ye-et,¡± the infested human said. ¡°How much longer then?¡± I asked. ¡°N-no-ot lon-n-ng.¡± No visible shudder had traveled out from the infested human that time, which implied that the message had contained more than just a simple denial. ¡°Will¨C?¡± I started to ask, but the creature sputtered over me. ¡°-g-go- -ba-a-ac-ck i-in.¡± Not because the infested human told me to do so, but because I had much to think upon, I headed back to the burrowed out bunker that served as my cell. Not much time had passed, before the walls shuddered, then shuddered again. I poked my head out, and found the infested human in the process of pulling free from the dirt wall. It looked at me and stopped. ¡°L-l-le-eav-v-ve.¡± The infested human limply pointed with their free wrist and hand towards the exit of the tunnel system. I guessed that I had just been given permission to leave. Keeping a careful watch on the creature, I slowly walked up along the path leading to the way I had been brought in. I stepped out from the burrow and blinked against the daylight. A shadow fell over me. I looked up and saw Emboru looming over me with all her height. Without anything else to do, I bowed my head. ¡°Emboru of the Vaul Mucary. Thank you for hosting me.¡± I almost said rescue, but that was both partially untrue, and would grant Emboru a stronger negotiating start than she already had. Not that it would make a difference. I also decided not to lodge complaints over my lodging. I shrugged a bit helplessly and tugged at the collar that sealed my Marks and left me relatively helpless. Emboru interpreted that as an affirmation, likely reading more into my scents and body language than I had meant to communicate. Emboru plucked a tendril up from within the gelatinous material of her body and within the curled tendril there was a pin like key, which looked very similar to the kind that matched my collar. I hoped it was the same one, but I lacked the means to clarify. Regardless of if it was a match or not, I reached for the key, almost without thinking of it. The tendril raised up until it stood at Emboru¡¯s head, or what went for their head. Given the height disparity, and given the fact that my Talents were sealed, I doubted I could jump to reach it. Not that I could. I frowned up at the key, remaining as dignified as I could while expressing both my desire and disapproval. They were not exactly clear, and I was not exactly certain what they were aiming for. ¡°Are we re-negotiating then?¡± I asked, biting back the acerbic tone at the fact that Emboru was somewhat backsliding on our deal. Not that our deal had ever been finalized. But the spirit of it had. Why would they keep the key from me if that was solely the case? Likely, they planned on setting the baseline first, before beginning to warp it further towards their favor. Realization swept through me. Emboru, for all that they were a terrifying individual, with capabilities that far exceeded my own, was terrible at striking deals. Likely, they seldom had to, and considering their standard abilities to assimilate, that made sense. Knowing that, it left me some room to maneuver. Normally, by revealing what I needed first, I would weaken my starting position. But there were ways to allay that. So, I listed out what I wanted, plus a little bit extra, the nice to haves. In no particular order. ¡°My left arm restored. This collar removed¨C¡± I really did need that one, the arm would have been a nice-to-have ¡°-and protection against becoming sealed again, if possible. The grimoire to grant me the ability to become human¨C¡± something that I needed if I were to integrate with society ¡°-My egg, I think it¡¯s called a mist egg¨C?¡± a nice to have but something I really did want ¡°An escort to Southbridge, immunity from infestation, and necessary resources to enter and live in Southbridge, such as currency, clothes, and tools.¡± Their head tilted downwards, and gave the impression of narrowing eyes, of doubt, of speculation. I gave another shrug and smiled, planning to change their attention away from my increased list. ¡°I learned more about the world. And for you, you need me to infiltrate Southbridge to find your¡­ sibling?¡± If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Oh. Perhaps I assumed too quickly that they were poor at the art of bartering. Or perhaps, they were taking my own tactic and deploying it against me. ¡°What other duties?¡± I asked. ¡°And is there a reason you¡¯re holding the key up there?¡± I wanted to say they were holding the key ¡®hostage,¡¯ but that would strain already tense relations. ¡°And the key?¡± I prompted, once more. I tilted my head, frowning, as I tried to parse that. ¡°The key to my collar, for my¡­ left arm?¡± ¡°Alright. Assuming you won¡¯t need my services too often¨C¡± ¡°-then we have an agreement?¡± Right. As a ransom, to guarantee I would deliver. ¡°Agreed. Tell me about this arm, is it a prosthetic? Some sort of magic, like the grimoire?¡± I failed to recognize a lot of what they were saying, and as I slowly shook my head, they realised this. Soon, within twenty seconds, an infested rat scurried towards us from the burrow system. I felt hesitation, but then I noticed that one of the rat¡¯s arms seemed discolored, compared to the rest of the mangey tendril infested skin. The rat stopped before me. I bent lower and got a closer look. It had lost its right foreleg at the elbow, at least judging by the ragged scarring. From below that point, it still had an arm, but not the one it was born with. I glanced back at Emboru, and the clear gelatinous material that formed their skin, then back down at the rat¡¯s foreleg. The same material. Peering closer, within the transparent gelatinous arm, I saw an absence of bones, but there was a skeletal scaffolding of a sort. They were tendrils. In fact, they were the same tendrils that weaved in and out of its upper arm. They plunged back into its skin and emerged within the clear material, serving in place of the actual bones. Towards the bottom of the foreleg, where the paw should be, there were three narrow tendrils that formed three jointless limbs. ¡°You want to give me an arm like this one?¡± I asked to clarify. I had concerns, but I thought best to clarify their offer before outright rejecting it. ¡°It would be transparent? Not skin and bone?¡± While I lacked complete comprehension, I had an idea what they meant. There was some variability in results, depending on myself, on my Marks, or species, or some other unspecified variable. ¡°What would be the best case?¡± I asked. Within one of their thicker tendrils, almost a tentacle coming out of their lower back, they gestured towards the rat. ¡°And worst case¡­ ?¡± I asked, nervous. The rat began shivering, before collapsing to the side and seizing up, with froth exiting their mouth. A painful death, then. I should have seen that coming, as even the best medical procedures carried a chance of death. I cleared my throat. ¡°How¡­ how likely is that?¡± ¡°Can you give a percentage?¡± ¡°What was that out of?¡± I asked, having missed the number, and not quite willing to risk this procedure without fully understanding what I was getting into. It took a few moments, and some creative charades, but it came out to a one in fifty chance of death. Which was hardly the worst, considering all I had been up against. But that left one last question, and likely the most important one. As, I noticed, when examining the infested rat, that its arm seemed had the tell-tale tendrils through it that usually went hand-in-hand with infestation. And while I was hardly an expert on the biology of it¡­ I had concerns. I just had trouble formulating them. ¡°Would I become infested?¡± I asked bluntly. <...> That did not sound like a negative. ¡°Pardon?¡± ¡°No. But explain. Please.¡± Did I mean losing my agency, my free-will, my sense of self? Well, maybe. ¡°I definitely need to keep those,¡± I hedged. ¡°But are there stages of infestation? Is it contagious? Will it spread? Can tools easily detect its presence and out me?¡± ¡°That is sounding better. How would it activate?¡± ¡°Whose signal?¡± The most complex layering of scents washed over me, far above and beyond their normal speech pattern. Then I would forever have a threat hanging over me, a figurative bomb strapped to me. If Emboru so decided, and came near enough, they could activate the infestation. Of course, if I were that close to them anyways, as I was now, then I would be under their power, and they could choose to infest me regardless. Not that that made a good reason to accept. ¡°Would you activate it?¡± I asked. ¡°And those reasons would be?¡± Assuming Emboru was not mercurial in their moods or definitions, then I would likely be safe. Though, there were always outlying situations. ¡°What of others within your Root?¡± I asked. ¡°Would they activate it?¡± Acceptable then. ¡°How will I hide it from humans, if its visible or detectable?¡± I nodded. It would make sense that the Illusion expert would be responsible for hiding aspects of themselves. Especially considering¡­ everything. A glove and long sleeves would likely work for the most part. ¡°Why must I remain sealed for this then?¡± I asked my final question. ¡°Alright then,¡± I said, holding out my hand. They ¡®looked¡¯ at my hand, tilting their head to demonstrate confusion. ¡°Humans shake their hands to finalize a deal,¡± I explained. But Emboru still shook, though they had to use a tendril to do so. However, when it was time to let go, Emboru continued holding on. It caught me by surprise. I would have thought there would be a preparation period. I felt unprepared. ¡°Is it going to hurt?¡± I asked in a tighter voice than I would have liked, hoping to reduce some of my fear. Because obviously, they would use anesthesia, or put me under for the procedure. It would be a falsehood to claim I had no second thoughts. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (1/9)
      • Featherlight (6/9)
  • Stealth I (5/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (1/9)
      • Area Coverage (1/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (3/9)
    • Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (6/9)
  • Closed
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.11 As I followed Emboru, heading towards the center of the valley where a yellow, brackish pool of water stood stagnant, I pondered our deal, and I realized something both very profound and subtle. Emboru had never confirmed the terms, merely waved them off in acceptance. I knew that they would keep the mist egg as collateral, but otherwise, it was implied that I would be delivered all my other requests. Including, the nice-to-have and unrealistic request that I had thought impossible. It seemed so outlandish that I absolutely had to confirm. ¡°Emboru,¡± I called out. Emboru continued striding forward, their tendrils carrying them along similar to what a landbound Ursula might have done, flowing across the ground. But while they continued forward, their attention settled upon me. Almost, as if, their head had completed a one-eighty degree turn. Except, it had not. But their head had no external visual organs anyways. Even if their head remained unchanged positionally, their attention settled upon me all the same, like a weight. And not an entirely pleasant one, either. ¡°Alright, but that was not what I wanted to ask.¡± ¡°Are you able to prevent my powers¨Cmy Marks¨Cfrom becoming sealed again? Once the collar comes off, of course.¡± It took me a few seconds to parse what they meant. It was an affirmation of the deal, and that the measure was included in that deal. Implied, was that they could deliver on the agreement. That was good. It meant that all that remained was the matter of trust¨Cdid I trust them to actually deliver on it, and could I find out more without offending them? From what I knew of Emboru, I thought I could push for more information. ¡°But¡­ how?¡± I struggled to put my fear into words, and it came out a bit cruder than I would have wanted. But I needed to verify. Because, at its heart, there were two simple solutions to prevent sealing. The first, was of course, to avoid being collared. The second, was to wear something over my neck to prevent a collar from fitting. Neither of the solutions was what I was after. ¡°It¡­ the¡­ methodology. It will affect my infiltration tactics.¡± Besides the fact that some solutions were untenable. Such as ¡®removing my neck.¡¯ That one left me shuddering just a bit. Emboru and the mucary were largely alien to humanoids, with far different paradigms of regularity. ¡°Best to verify now. That¡¯s why I¡¯m asking.¡± We continued apace for a minute. The valley was quite large, and we were only halfway to the center. Finally, they answered. I shrugged then shook my head. ¡°Not really, no. Not beyond the collaring.¡± While I failed to understand several of the more complex layerings of what was said, I thought I followed enough to figure the rest out. The Marks had some sort of physical connection that traveled from brain to body, maybe through the brain-stem, which the collar disrupted. But if that were the case¡­ ¡°How will we prevent that from happening?¡± ¡°But¡­ how?¡± A small tendril, perhaps the width of a pinkie finger, but several feet long, slowly emerged from Emboru¡¯s back. It waved through the air, drawing my attention, before retreating back within the gelatinous material forming Emboru¡¯s body. That¡­ sounded¡­ questionable. ¡°But. How¡­ ?¡± I asked. How would something that size reinforce my spinal column, for lack of a better word? How would it go in. When would it¨CI grimaced. ¡°When I get the arm.¡± Emboru acted as though that cleared my question, but now I just had more. ¡°How invasive is this procedure?¡± I had been imagining new flesh starting from just where the scars began on my stump, or maybe a bit further up, if an anchor was required. But if tendrils were establishing themselves in my neck, and potentially up further, then that might change my consent. Of course, Emboru read between the lines. Most of the time, when I spoke, it was not the actual words that Emboru listened to, but the feelings emanating around them, similar to how I interpreted their words, but in reverse. ¡°But what part of that involves sending a tendril into my brain?¡± I asked, perhaps naively. Emboru remained ¡®silent¡¯ as they continued leading me onward. By now, the brackish pool was well in sight, and I began to notice some details about it, or oddities. There were no ripples. The wind blew, always and forever; a body of water that size ought to have had some sort of motion to it. But no, there was not. It could have been a sheet of glass, for all it looked. It left me wondering what exactly it was. Because it could not have been water. Not even polluted water. And as we approached, I saw infested carrying bundles towards it from the far end. Almost a steady procession of such, up to a structure on the far side of the pool. It was still too far for me to make out clearly, but I began to have suspicions. They stated dryly. ¡°Alright. Sure. I do want to feel the arm¡­¡± I said thoughtfully. ¡°But can the tendrils just anchor to where the nerves end, similar to the bones?¡± After a pause, Emboru answered. I failed to understand. Emboru elaborated. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Verifying that would not be possible. I lacked the means to do so, and the biological expertise to know if that claim was truthful or not. The nerves that had been severed might have been killed, but that would imply that nerves were a continuous organism, which beggared belief. But instead of pushing further, I allowed the conversation to lapse. Continuing a thread of questioning could imply disbelief, which would imply distrust, and would either offend Emboru or sour the deal. Assuming that the deal was valid in the first place. Which I hoped it was. We reached the yellow lake, and looking into its depths, I could see some movement. There was a slight wobble to the material. A shake that shuddered through it, almost to slight to notice. It was then I realized what the substance reminded me of, and I wish it had not. It behaved similarly to jello. Gelatinous. Emboru led us along the circumference, heading towards the almost-docks that stretched out over the lake. Never before had I been a nautically inclined person. I could barely remember towering cranes and gritty storage containers, but naught much else. But to me, the structure almost resembled a boat house. It was a long shed that started on shore and then stretched out over the not-water. Walls and a roof enclosed it completely, except for where the line of infested had queued for entry, along with their bundles. It was this structure that Emboru was leading us towards. I peered through several of the gaps in the coarse wood, or rather, the desiccated and pressed vegetable matter that served as wood. The infested were dipping and holding the bundles in the gelatin, which climbed up the bundles and the arms of the infested. When the infested drew forth the bundles, the gelatin clung and invaded the material. My suspicion of what was happening had been nearly confirmed, but I still had one further doubt, and that was in regards to the nature of the bundles. Because if I was right, then those bundles should have been struggling or resisting, or at the very least, some of them. Unless they had been paralyzed, I considered. The queue of waiting infested, and those likely awaiting infestation, ceased moving forward as Emboru approached. The last of the infested already in the structure finished and vacated just as Emoboru reached the entrance. With trepidation, I followed, if hesitantly behind. The infested had begun to encircle the structure, forming a barrier that was quickly surrounding us and the entrance to the structure. I doubted I could have escaped anyways, but any hopes I did have had just been smashed. Was it a power-play on Emboru¡¯s part, I wondered, or was this just the most convenient way for the mucary to operate. Emboru said, noticing that I had stopped at the entrance while she continued deeper inside. The floor continued out for some distance, pressed vegetable matter resting on the gelatinous lake. At the end of the hallway, the floor opened up, revealing the almost-lake beneath. ¡°...but¨C¡± I started to protest. A tendril snapped through the air. Not violently, not towards me, but a startling crack all the same. Despite all the reservations I was now experiencing, and there were legion, I had little choice. The infested had begun closing in, a subtle encouragement or reminder of the fact I was at their mercy. But even despite all that, I resisted the immediate impulse to obey, to follow. ¡°What¡¯s the rush?¡± I asked. Emboru sent. While that made some sense, the urgency might not have been completely justified, except Emboru continued to explain, Oh. The arm had an expiration date to be used by. That changed things. Unless it was an elaborate trick. But then again, Emboru had no need of an elaborate trick. I nodded and followed them in, stepping onto the planking, feeling the slight springiness in the wood, the slight reverberations. While the hall lacked lanterns or lights, the gaps in the walls proved sufficient for my eyes. I somewhat expected there to be a medical cooler with an organ in it waiting for us. But instead, there was only the yellow gelatinous material, Emboru, and myself. Emboru stopped at the opening and immersed a root tendril into the opening, fishing around for something. A sense of relief radiated off of Emboru. What must it feel like, I wondered, for Emboru to connect with the material? Was it maternal in some way, or something else? Were I braver, I would have asked. Emboru directed me to near the edge of the material. I stepped hesitantly up to join them, with barely enough space for both of us to remain abreast. I tried to see what their tendril was doing beneath the surface, but in the dark, the light barely illuminated more than a foot deep. ¡°How will this work?¡± I asked. I sensed amusement from Emboru, along with concentration. I winced, getting down on my knees on the filthy wood, and then laying upon my left side. It was my bad side, and it took some effort to lower myself without injuring me. From the ground, Emboru seemed even taller, gigantic. My stump was held just above the surface. I focused upon Emboru. Did I trust them? Did it matter? ¡°But¡­ how will this work?¡± I asked. Emboru pulled the tendril closer to the surface, and I saw it had wrapped around a similar tendril, that almost was embryonic, with a material around it of a different shade to the yellow lake. I lacked time to examine it further, and it never completely left the fluid. It did come close enough to the surface for me to see. The tendril was woven of several others, all together the corded braid was near a yard long, and it was vigorous in its writhing, though it did seem to be weakening. The tendril continued to weaken. With Emboru towering over me, with their pressuring, and with the lack of alternatives, I had to appreciate one thing: They refrained from physically forcing me to submit, which they could have. Easily. And it was that fact alone that allowed me to comply. Because it was my choice. And I had requested this. So, taking a breath to steel myself, I plunged my stump in. Other than the sliminess, the dampness, the odd warmness of the gelatinous, I could almost pretend I was submerging my arm in a spa. At least, until Emboru wrapped a thick lumbar tendril about my torso and shoulder, both restraining me, and holding my head up at the same time. ¡°What happens no¨C¡± I started to ask, when something tickled the end of my stump. The tickle turned to a pressure. That pressure, turned to a stabbing. And that stabbing, turned to a burning violation of my flesh, traveling upwards, grasping and pulling itself up, using my bones and ligaments and inside of my skin for purchase and¨C Oh Mother it hurts! Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (1/9)
      • Featherlight (6/9)
  • Stealth I (5/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (1/9)
      • Area Coverage (1/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (3/9)
    • Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (6/9)
  • Closed
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.12 Without deceit, I cannot say the procedure was worth the pain, at least not entirely. It continued for what felt like hours. I felt slimy tendrils crawling along my bones, anchoring themselves, driving in through the marrow. That part burned. But when they began following my nerves up along my shoulder, under my clavicle, weaving around and around, before crawling up my neck? That part. Was. Horrific. Beyond the fear of losing myself, of losing my sapience, that Emboru had lied to me and that I would soon join the ranks of the infested. Beyond the pain. It brought back memories of powerlessness and torture that I would rather forget. My tongue felt fat, and I could have sworn I tasted bitter plastic. When the tendril reached the base of my skull, whiteness overcame my vision. My hearing degenerated into a buzzing mass of insects. Phantom sensations swept across me, and I found my emotional stability deteriorating. I cried and wept and thrashed, until I was completely restrained. And then it was over. Not that I knew it at the time. I next awoke some time later in Emboru¡¯s study, with Emboru studying several texts at once, using the eyes of her thralls. When I awoke, I was laid atop a fibrous cot. My head throbbed, and my shoulder felt sore. The phantom pains from my missing arm had grown worse, or so I thought, before I remembered the arm. With weak limbs, I checked my neck first. The collar had been removed. I was unsealed. ¡°Illusion¡­¡± I muttered, letting a light form above me. I made it too bright, and near blinded myself. Decreasing the intensity of it, I managed to lift my head. My left arm. I tried flexing it. It twitched. I felt the tug along my arm. I tried lifting it. I really did. But other than a twitch, a pathetic one at that, there was no reaction. Why did the arm not respond? I thought back to my agreement with Emboru. I had never specified the quality of the arm I would receive, but I had not thought it was necessary. If I had been given a lame arm, for all that pain, I would be livid. Trying to sit up, I found myself struggling to do so. It was then I noticed the grime upon my skin. The feeling of sleeplessness, of old sweat. Had I been feverish, I wonder. I glance up to Emboru. I can feel her attention upon me, even though she lacks eyes. ¡°It does not appear to be working,¡± I said, hoping to keep the bitterness from my voice. Of course, I failed. Because while my voice sounded neutral enough, I could not control the subtler tells from my body. Such as scent. If it was due to my collar becoming unsealed or not, I am unsure. However, understanding Emboru came easier than before. Deciding that I had no real choice in protesting Emboru¡¯s request, I laid back down, resting my sore abdominals. After some time passed, Emboru continued the discussion. ¡°Not as much as I would like.¡± This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. ¡°Anything relevant to my side of the bargain?¡± I asked with a wince, as the tendrils from my arm twitched, seemingly all the way down towards my ribs. I tried ignoring the extent of its growth, especially as there was naught I could do for it. I had an idea who Emboru was referring to. ¡°Princess Marissa, yes. But the Inquisitor? No.¡± ¡°And not the princess?¡± Conflict? That might be useful to extort, if I needed to manipulate royalty in some way. Although, I would likely be unable to go so far as one already established by the court¡¯s intrigues and manipulations could. I will, will I? I supposed that made sense, they would have attempted a more direct solution first. ¡°How were you detected?¡± I asked, hoping to learn which security measures I needed to bypass. After a pause, Emboru confessed, I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. What methods could be used to sniff out the infested? Then I realized that there were plenty of methods. From the clicking of their limbs, to the sight of the tendrils, to their graceless stumbling. I would have hoped Emboru tried something more stealthy, but I could always find out exactly what they tried later. ¡°Will your camp be safe here, should I need to retreat?¡± I asked, thinking about possible bases of operations in worst case scenarios. ¡°The hunters know of your location, afterall.¡± Emboru waffled. I continued thinking on what Emboru had said for a while. My arm, if discovered, was certainly a dead give-away. It left me wondering whyever Emboru had granted me the arm in the first place. Ultimately, it must have been for the control it gave them. What was the equivalent of a phrase could result in the limb claiming my life and turning me into one of the infested. Thinking on the arm, I once again attempted to move it, flexing my bicep, and whatever the equivalent of the tendrils would have been. This time, the arm twitched a bit more, actually curling. Notably, there were no sounds to couple with its motion. Emboru assured me. ¡°What will be its limits?¡± I asked, once again. ¡°Will it make those clicks and pops that the rest of your¨Cthe mucary make?¡± ¡°What?¡± Emboru failed to answer. The next few days were spent planning, recovering, and limit testing. After a week passed, I was heading southward in the company of several infested humans and vultures, serving as a guard of sorts. Trackless Tracks I (3/9) (+2) Area Coverage (2/9) (+1) Featherlight (7/9) (+1) Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (1/9)
      • Featherlight (7/9) (+1)
  • Stealth I (5/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9) (+2)
      • Area Coverage (2/9) (+1)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (3/9)
    • Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (6/9)
  • Closed
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.13 My traveling companions protested strongly as I alerted them to my intentions. After leaving Emboru with an escort of infested mucary, I traveled south towards the last area where Emboru¡¯s sibling had been scented: Southbridge. I found it ironic how all my paths seemed to lead me back there, but now, I was finally going to go there. That is, after this one last errand. We were hidden along a bluff looking down on a familiar bandit encampment, the very one I had visited prior. Their small ramshackle settlement had changed little. A water condenser and barrel, a workshop, and a latrine. Of course, now I knew that most of the camp remained garrisoned inside the cavern abutting the cliff. My companions, or honor guard, that had been assigned to ensure Emboru¡¯s investment arrived safely at Southbridge, consisted of three human soldiers, numerous vultures, and several gnoll-like hundeor. The infested humans remained by my side, while the vultures and hundeor scouted. Thinking back on the encampment below us, I struggled to remember her name. I thought she went by a pretentious title, but so much had happened between then, and now. After a moment, I snapped my fingers quietly as I recalled it. The Red Bandit Queen, or something of that nature. Certainly pretentious enough to qualify for my purposes. Night had long since fallen, and I was prepared to infiltrate. I pointed at the infested carrying my supplies. ¡°Hand me it,¡± I said. I could sense their disagreement. They would rather I not risk myself unnecessarily. But I needed to do this. Or, I would need to find another, perhaps less deserving, target. I already felt uncomfortable enough about my own intentions, that I did not need to be silently browbeated by Emboru¡¯s thralls. They could not even communicate with Emboru at this distance. So truly, however much mind the infested had, it was not enough to really count. I had no compulsion to remain polite. ¡°Now.¡± The infested growled as its limbs clicked and it thrust out a satchel. I let it hold it while I rifled through it, until I found the grimoire, or, more importantly, the crystal knife embedded on its cover. ¡°B-ba-a-ddd d-d-ea,¡± the infested human said, smelling strongly of protestations and disapproval. True, there were risks. But I needed to do this, if I wanted to succeed long term. It was the least risky solution. ¡°Alright then, a compromise. If I¡¯m not back by dawn, then come get me, or make a distraction.¡± The infested paused in that eerie manner of theirs, until finally, they consented. By scent. I doubted they would be necessary, but backup plans were always desirable. However, if they did force their way in, I was uncertain if they would survive, or what state the bandits would be left in. It might lead to more attention than I wanted, if anyone ever followed my trail back from the city. It was unlikely, but risks were risks, and I had little to no idea of the capabilities of the inquisition. In the best case, my venture this night would lead to only a single fatality. Even that was too much. I was no assassin. But¡­ I had to do this, at least, I did if I wanted to infiltrate Southbridge with a respectable position and not as a lilac-furred kunbeorn. Just the thought of their dehumanizing practices left me ill. Truly, I needed to do this. I pulled the crystal knife from the grimoire¡¯s front cover. The blade was made of a hard blue, almost obsidian like material. It was sharp, double sided, and four inches long. There was no guard, and the hilt was made of the same material as the blade. It felt slick, eager to slip and cut the hand that wielded it. The grimoire itself was an odd thing. It was a leather tome that came with that crystal knife embedded into the front cover. The grimoire itself was empty. The pages, blank. Though even I could tell that the paper had been crafted with quality. Apparently, the grimoire would grant a spell, which despite what I had thought based on my own experiences, were incredibly rare, and highly prized. Which was one reason I had to use it now, instead of risking taking it into human society. The other oddity about grimoires in general, was that the spell they granted depended on the user. And on the conditions surrounding its use. In this case, the blade affected the resulting spell, or so I had been assured. Personally, I knew nothing of the magics that governed this world. The crystal knife was composed of a ¡®living stone,¡¯ and it was specially attuned to heartblood. If I wanted a spell to transform myself into a human, then I would need a human¡¯s heartblood. The crystal did more than that though. It also absorbed the victim¡¯s Spirit. Which¡­ sounded bad. But the stronger the victim, the greater the resulting spell. The gender and aesthetics of the person affected the spell too, or so we assumed. All of this was secondhand, as not even Emboru had verified this grimoire. They were, after all, single use. I still could not fathom how Emboru had found the grimoire. They sounded like national treasures. But regardless of how they got it, it was mine now, and all this resulted in me seeking out the Red Bandit Queen. Or, Red, as I was now thinking of her. Someone strong, someone beautiful (arguably), and someone deserving of death for slaving. Thus, when night fell, I snuck down into the bandits¡¯ den. It felt somewhat nostalgic. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Under the cover of my Illusions, I quickly scurried across their camp, avoiding the ramshackle buildings, and headed straight for the entrance. I paused there and listened, awaiting a chance to enter. Breathing was barely audible. Knowing the security measures that the camp used, I was more worried of a ¡®discussion,¡¯ occurring in the sentry room than anything else. And in that case, only because discussion would keep the sentry awake longer. An hour passed, and finally the breathing evened out, into a lull, with occasional snorts. I slipped a solid Illusion past the seam, an Illusory knife, and lifted the lockbar. Soon, I slipped into the cavern, locking the door behind me. If the infested needed to fight their way in, I doubted that the door would stop them. I snuck down the carved tunnel and came out in the larger natural cavern. Already knowing the layout did much for me, and I climbed the walls straight up to where Red¡¯s quarters were. While I was unsure if she was home or not, I thought the chances were good that she was. And if not, then I could wait until Southbridge to find a more suitable target. Climbing I (2/9) (+1) Sticking to the shadows, avoiding the sparse lamps, I finally arrive at Red¡¯s quarters. The door is closed, which was new. I did not remember there being a door there before. Even more odd, the door had a lock and key. This caused me to pause. Was this change a result of my last visit, or something else? Or, did I simply misremember the details? Fortunately, I could pick a lock. With my ears peeled for any incoming roustabouts, and for any movement on the other side of the thick door, I plied my trade and picked the lock. Forty seconds. Recent events had apparently left me rusty. Putting my favorite lockpicks away and slipping them back inside my jacket¡¯s inner pocket, I stepped inside and mostly shut the door behind me. It was dark, pitch black, except for the thin light coming through the door. This bode poorly. But even if Red was absent, there ought to have been valuables present, so I would not be coming away empty handed. I was in a bit of a rush. While I had insisted that the infested remain behind, I had no delusions that they would wait patiently. Which left me somewhat exposed. A good thief never rushes their craft. After listening for a moment though, I verified I heard no sounds of breathing or of a hidden Red. And I was in a hurry. ¡°Illusion,¡± I mouthed A flickering flame, no brighter than a weak candle, sprung to life above my head, illuminating the room. The familiar ¡®office¡¯ of a criminal lord. A heavy and stained desk, littered with papers, a ledger, a map, and an overturned cup. A locked chest, too heavy to move, but perhaps something I could now penetrate. And then a bed. Or rather, a hammock, nailed into the stone walls. All of this, absent Red. Overlooking the disappointment that things would not be so easy, I focused on what I could gain here and now, in this situation. I got to looting. First I went through the drawers of the desk, sounding them out for hidden panels, checking the underside for any mechanism. But the desk appeared plain. I found an artificed crossbow, or this world''s version of a single shot firearm. It would require a Charger for each shot fired. They were illegal, and very useful. I pocketed it. I found letters, which I stashed in my bag, not taking the time to read who they were addressed to. Potential blackmail material. I found an expensive paperweight, made of metal veined with crystals. That was stolen. A nice knife. I took that too. Soon, the desk was empty of anything of more value than weight, and I turned my attention to the chest. This one, might pose something of a challenge. Made of iron reinforced wood, between the bands and hinges and actual locking mechanism, I had trouble deciding if it was mostly metal or wood. Either way, I doubted I could simply carve my way through to whatever treasures it hid. That was the thing about safes. They were not a permanent protection, but rather a cost. A thief would much rather steal something unguarded. A safe meant a delay, which meant a higher likelihood of getting caught. But no protection was infallible. This one took a key to unlock. A cursory probe proved that it was a different mechanism than the door. That the key was more complicated. Much more. I applied the torque to the lock and began teasing out the pins. They were to the bottom, the top, and even the sides. And as each pin clicked into place, they grew more difficult to keep depressed. The lock was a surprisingly high quality, considering where it was. The pins fit so smoothly that friction of the torque only barely held them, and I had to jig several pins more than once. A minute passed, and then another. I was getting close. This lock was a challenge. It was good. I could only imagine what treasures it hid. Perhaps another grimoire. My Illusion expired, without me noticing. I finished one side of the lock, moving to another. Another minute. The door swept open, spilling lamplight over me. I froze. I had left the door ajar. Unlocked. ¡°Boys,¡± Red¡¯s almost familiar voice shouted out. Cloth and leather rustled, my target stepped away from the doorway, back out into the hallway. She had drawn a firearm, and was holding it angled downwards, but facing the pitchblack doorway. ¡°Get yer asses over here!¡± Internally, I swore. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (2/9) (+1)
      • Featherlight (7/9)
  • Stealth I (5/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (2/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (3/9)
    • Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (6/9)
  • Closed
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.14 ¡°Get yer asses over here!¡± Red shouted. After she had found the door ajar, she had stepped beyond the doorway, outside of the reach of any potential threat. Assuming they lacked ranged options. On one hand, the move made sense. The most likely intruder would use a blade, and would have to deal with the dark room just the same as her. On the other hand, the slight silhouette left by the exterior lighting made her a target for a ranged attack, such as an artificed crossbow. Such as her own. I wondered if she considered that risk, that someone could have had a ranged weapon. It might have been confidence. Or perhaps, arrogance. More likely, she was both arrogant and was required to display a certain amount of character for her underlings. Regardless, her stepping away from the door gave me a chance to think, not just react. Eschiver: 4/9 (+1) She had called for reinforcements. I knew from my previous visits that they quartered nearby. It would not take more than a minute for them to rouse themselves and arrive. Technically, it gave me enough time to act, to do the deed, to assassinate Red with the crystal knife and feed the grimoire. But¡­ I lacked confidence. Stabbing someone in the heat of the moment, I could do, I have done. But premeditated murder. I had thought I was ready, but I needed time to work myself up. Time I lacked. Fortunately, the interior of Red¡¯s quarters were dark. Far too dark for eyes to pierce. Not even I could see, at least not when the door was shut. I had to assume that Red¡¯s eyes were worse than mine. Especially as she still scanned the darkness, looking for threats. It gave me latitude. ¡°Illusion,¡± I breathed. ¡°Touch.¡± Illusion I: Touch: 7/9 (+1) I formed a shadowed clone, one that was missing details, but on a quick examination, could pass for a humanoid. From experience, I knew I could only keep this Illusion active for seconds. Immediately after forming, I sent it out, rushing through the door. Red shouted. A flash of light and a pop as she fired her weapon. It happened fast enough I was unsure if she hit the Illusion or not, but I kept the Illusion together all the same. I could not have the Illusion play dead, as it would soon disappear. Then, there would be questions, and Red would know at least some of my capabilities. Better for the decoy to escape. The decoy pushed Red to the side and dove off the side of the walkway, into the greater part of the cavern, down to where the trash littered the floor, and where shadows lurked. Then, the Illusion expired. Fortunately it had reached those shadows, making it credible that it had been an intruder which had successfully escaped. During this crisis, Red remained in the doorway, providing insufficient space for me to sneak by. Instead, I relied on another trick. I climbed the irregular stone walls, up to the high ceiling, above where the lantern¡¯s light would reasonably reach, and I clung to the roof. My light weight, combined with my climbing ability, assisted me in hanging upside down. I minimized my profile, pretending to be another irregularity of the cavern. Featherlight: 8/9 (+1) And there, I waited. A good thief was patient, afterall. Soon, men came running. Two of them close, while the others kept at somewhat of a distance. They remained on the walkways, where they could stand two abreast comfortably, but anymore risked pushing against the rotten railing. ¡°Cap?¡± one asked, using yet another name for the woman. ¡°There¡¯s a rat,¡± she scowled. ¡°Broke into my quarters.¡± ¡°It still there?¡± the man asked, with some trepidation. I wondered why he might sound so weak. I would figure that they would be eager to fight, or prove their worth. But then again, they might have just been cowards. ¡°No. At least not the one I shot. It got away.¡± She made a gesture, and I assumed referred to the bottom of the cavern, though I could not be certain from where I hid. ¡°Could be others. Rouse the men and keep one posted by my door.¡± The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. She finished giving orders then grabbed a lantern from one of the men and strode into her office, suspicious eyes scanning the walls, wherever her light fell, with her weapon ready to fire once more, already fed a fresh Charger. Fortunately, she never looked up. When she passed under me, I stilled my breath, and readied another Illusion, should it be required. Eschiver: 5/9 (+1) It was not. She reached the desk, and scowled at the drawers. She opened one of them, and cursed. ¡°Gods!¡± Red swore as she checked the safe and ran a finger over the lock, hissing and catching her breath, before stomping out. ¡°You better¡¯ve found that godslovin corpse! I want all eyes on the lookout! Get Lou checking the front. Bill the back. Ain¡¯t nobody getting in or out! You all got that! No one!¡± I waited a breath, then another. Red¡¯s yelling departed, as she presumably went to help search, or to motivate her crew. I could have used that time to slip away. But doing so would be dangerous. They were searching for an intruder, everywhere else besides where I currently was. If I were to sneak out, it would be later, after the search finished. Besides, even if I did leave, I would have to do this all over again. So, I waited. Hanging. Upside down. As still as I could be. Though I did practice opening and closing my new hand, or rather, what passed for a hand. Three tendrils formed three gelatinous digits, with a silverish sheen. They were surprisingly dextrous, but a far, far cry, from what I had been used to. I wondered if I still had my old hand if I would have cracked that safe. Likely not, I decided. The lock had been complicated, and I, out of practice. I resolved to perform better in the future. It should be easier once I arrived at Southbridge. At some point, my right arm ached, and all of me felt fuzzy, before I felt much lighter. The blood stopped rushing to my head. I actually felt comfortable, despite the fact I was hanging upside down. Featherlight: 9/9 (+1) -> Featherlight I: 1/9
  • Inversion: 1/9
After some time, I heard Red¡¯s voice returning. It sounded as though their search had found little, and she had sent scouts to find where the intruder had escaped to. But rather than entering her quarters, Red continued pacing along the walkways, furious, and complaining about damned nobles and their need for correspondences. If that meant what I thought it did, then I might have lucked out on the blackmail material. Despite the temptation to rifle through those letters, I continued waiting for Red to let her guard down, for the bandits to end their vigilance. It could not last forever, I reasoned. Unfortunately, things soon turned for the worse. A bell clanged, and much shouting ensued. A few shouts and cries of alarm sounded out, most of surprise, and some of anticipation, but none of pain. ¡°Wyrkwik bastards!¡± someone shouted. ¡°What?!¡± Red demanded, storming off until I could no longer hear her heavy footsteps. ¡°You heard me!¡± the man finished shouting. ¡°They¡¯re storming the front!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t just stand there, shoot the bastards!¡± Another said. I bit my lip. Motherswear it! The infested were to remain in place! Unless¡­ had dawn come already? I thought not. I would not have lost track of time so easily. More likely, the infested had sought an excuse to come after me, and saw the disturbance that the scouts made. Or, the scouts found the infested. Regardless, I had to decide what to do. I might have been able to sabotage the defenders, which would improve the infested¡¯s chances. But doing so would jeopardize my own safety. And that would risk missing an opportunity to claim what I had come here for. Almost, I felt guilty for abandoning the infested. But I doubted they could win. If it sounded like they were, then I would find Red, hopefully before the infested did. They could hold her down, I supposed, while I used the knife. However, when the first traces of guilt arrived, I merely remembered that the infested lacked true individuality. They were not¡­ people, at least in the people sense of the word. It ameliorated the feelings, though it still felt wasteful. So, I waited. The fight must have been going well for the bandits, as sounds of combat never arrived. I heard feet running back and forth occasionally, along with distant shouting, coupled with Red¡¯s jeers. But the infested never broke into Red¡¯s chambers. An hour later, men were singing, and an hour after that, Red returned to her quarters and stumbled into her hammock, stripping her boots off and tossing them into the corner. Afterwards, I felt my chance had arrived. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (2/9)
      • Featherlight I (1/9) (+2)
      • Inversion (1/9)
  • Stealth I (5/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (2/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (5/9) (+2)
    • Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (7/9) (+1)
  • Closed
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.15 The bandits¡¯ victory revelry in the rest of the caverns was holding strong, even without their glorious leader present. Red, for her part, had nearly fallen asleep. Her breathing was beginning to level out. She was laid upon her hammock, partially pressing up against a stone wall, in what had to have been an uncomfortable position. She even lacked a blanket, though she did use a pillow, as greasy as it was. From where I hung from the ceiling, I could smell the booze upon her breath. And still, even despite this perfectly seeming opportunity, I waited. Featherlight I: 2/9 (+1) Inversion: 2/9 (+1) Eventually, Red snorted, mumbling nonsense. She had well and truly fallen asleep. There were no more excuses to be made. I began making my way across the ceiling, in the quickest path towards the wall, near the door. As Red laid facing up, coming from anywhere near above her would put me at greatest risk. And besides, climbing across the ceiling was strange. The inversion still felt unnatural, even if I now had a mark for it. Soon, I returned to the floor, and I crept towards Red. As I went, I pulled the small crystalline knife from my pocket, accidentally nicked my finger in the process. The blade truly was sharp, both the tang and the blade. All the while as I moved, I kept an ear open for changes in Red¡¯s breathing. I detected no change. I reached Red, and I crouched beside her, with the blade gripped in one hand, poised to shear up and into her. But as I readied myself, my motives, and the realities of the situation, settled in. I was about to murder a woman in cold blood, and largely to make my own life easier. Granted, Red deserved it. But I had the feeling that I did as well. The thing that really held me back was the last time I had intentionally slain a human. That Detective, the one investigating Mother¡¯s trafficking rings. The punishment Mother had implemented that night had been horrendous on many, many, levels, and I had never fully recovered. But, in this instance, Mother was not here. I had already decided to do this. Delaying only increased the risk, providing nothing for benefits. Mother was not here. So then, why was I still so worried about her, and why did my thoughts continue circling back to her, again and again? I took a deep breath and steeled myself, forcing myself to just¡­ move. The knife swung up into the hammock, into Red¡¯s back, near where her heart should have been. The blade hit a rib and bounced, sliding along, until reaching the divot between bones. I pushed in, hoping to keep moving fast enough¨C The blade turned almost of its own accord, the tang biting my palm, the blade flattening against where I had intended it instead going in. Red¡¯s eyes snapped open. ¡°Godslickin¡¯ cunt!¡± she swore, rolling out of her hammock in a tangle, and landing atop of me. She weighed much more than me, and drove both of us to the floor, with me on the bottom. I panicked. She was going to call for help, raise the alarm, and then I would be well and truly lost. I tried stabbing her again, but my grip was still unsure, and the tang, now slick with blood, slipped even more easily than before. Instead of stabbing her kidneys, I punched them, and with much less leverage than would be ideal at that. She inhaled another breath, readying another shout. Without overly thinking, I used my left arm, by reflex more than anything. While moving it still felt unnatural, and I used it far more clumsily than I would have liked, the limb was powerful. It curled around the backside of Red¡¯s head and whipped across her face, covering her mouth, muffling her shout. But still, she was still on top. She was already drawing a weapon from her holster, her artificed handgun, her pistol. I needed the circumstances to change. I needed her heart blood on the knife. I could not just kill her. I lacked the ability to do so, regardless. But that did not mean I lacked abilities altogether. ¡°Illusion. Touch.¡± A clone formed above us, grabbing onto Red¡¯s arms and pulling her off, leveraging her aside, with my left hand following her mouth, the tendrils shoving their way in between her teeth. She gnashed and spat, she got a taste of the gelatinous flesh, and then she gagged. Fortunately, it smelled better than it tasted. In fact, arguably, it was scentless, more due to my glyph for Trackless Tracks than anything else. Because the other infested certainly had an aroma to them. ¡°Mrh-birfhh¨C¡± Red tried to swear, but my tendrils followed her. My tangible illusion straddled her neck, trying to choke her. My knife had fallen at some point, and I felt across the floor for it, distracted by maintaining the Illusion and keeping hold of her mouth. My hand wrapped around the sharp crystal, and I grabbed it, only wincing slightly as another cut joined the rest. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. My Illusion would only last ten seconds more at most. Forever in a fight. But not long enough. Resituating the knife in hand, I came at her again. Her pistol was up and pointed at me. I dove to the side, using the Illusion as a cover. -pop- A pink flash. The Illusion began leaking mist, before discorporating Illusion I: Touch: 8/9 (+1) I had thought the gun was a singleshot, I hoped it was. I took a chance and lunged forward, holding my left arm between me and her. -pop- Another flash, this one sputtering, almost weaker. My left arm took a grazing hit. Rancid smoke, but painless. Eschiver: 6/9 (+1) I crashed into her. The knife slipped from my hand, only partially penetrating her stomach. It was not enough. She was reaching for another holster on her belt. I brought my left arm down. It whipped across her chest. She wheezed, rolling over, trying to get space. I brought my arm down again, this time hitting her upper back. Bone crunched. Her back visibly bent inward. She was flung into her turn, rolling to a stop. Still panicked from the fight, and from being shot, even if it was a grazing wound, I scrambled over to her and pried the gun from her fingers. She was trembling and her eyes had rolled up inside her eyelids, flickering madly. Otherwise, I might not have been able to pry the gun away so easily. Surprisingly, during all of that, the revelry outside Red¡¯s quarters never changed. Nobody had heard, or if they had, they had ignored it. I took a moment to collect myself, to wipe down the tang of the knife, ensuring that my grip would hold this time. I lined up the knife over her sternum. I used my left arm to secure the grip, then my right hand over the top of that. This time, it was going to work. My hand was trembling. Red gasped, arcing her neck and head, before her eyes came back down, watching me through lidded eyes. She grinned, showing bloodied teeth. The hairs along my neck rose. Why was she grinning? What did she know? Was there a trap? The madwoman laughed. ¡°Kid,¡± she half-chuckled, half-coughed. ¡°If you¡¯re gonna do it, do it.¡± Confused, I tilted my head and kept my ears peeled for a trap. So far, nothing seemed to be amiss. ¡°What?¡± I finally asked. ¡°You¡¯re here to kill me. Do it.¡± ¡°You want to¡­ die?¡± I asked. It was not such an alien concept, but somewhat surprising coming from the gregarious woman. ¡°Gods, no!¡± She coughed again, this time, flecks of blood trailing down her chin. ¡°But, can¡¯t say I don¡¯t deserve it. Just get it done with.¡± She gasped again. ¡°Not like it matters. Broke my spine. Kunny cunts. Heh.¡± She coughed once more. Still trembling, I lined up the knife again. She rolled her eyes and grunted. ¡°Here, like this.¡± For a moment, I thought it had been a ploy. She had lulled me into a false sense of security. But before I could pull out, her hands found my own, wrapping them weakly. ¡°On me¡­¡± Then, with a strength that had been hidden by her weak grip, she yanked downwards. On its own, it would not have been enough force to pierce her. But despite the startlement, or perhaps because of it, I added my strength to her own. The knife plunged in through her chest, cracking the sternum, sinking deep enough that surely the tip of the knife had penetrated her heart. A wave of blood came spitting up from her mouth. ¡°Heh.¡± Her voice was holding out strong, but weakening. Her breath was shallow now. Her face, pained. But still, she wanted to talk. ¡°You with the wyrkwik?¡± she asked. I remained silent. ¡°Takes balls kid. Hope you make a name fer yourself. Don¡¯t forget yer first kill.¡± ¡°How¡¯d you know it was my first?¡± She smirked, before wheezing. ¡°He-hey. K-kid. Look me in the eyes.¡± ¡°Wha¨C?¡± ¡°Jus¡¯ -jus¡¯ do i-it!¡± And so, I did. I obliged her last request, and I looked her in the eye as they slowly lost focus, until her breathing stopped, and until her bowels voided. It was gross. Stealth: Area Coverage: 3/9 (+1) It was time to go. Suddenly, I could scarcely tolerate the thought of remaining even a minute longer. I collected the knife and resisted the urge to clean it, unsure if I needed it bloody for the grimoire to work correctly. Instead, I pocketed the knife, and I snuck back out. As I made my way through the caverns, I found no signs of conflict, except for drunks. I reached the front entrance and slipped out. Only one Illusion was required to cover my escape. It was not until I had crossed the settlement and reached the craggy hill on the far side that I realized I had forgotten the safe, and I had forgotten the slaves. They had completely slipped my mind. Though, I had failed to find anything that looked like an artificed key anyways. I decided not to risk going back. I sought out where I had left the infested. After some searching, I found the bag with the supplies, where the mucary had been last. I was grateful that I had found the goods. The worst case scenario would have been the infested taking it in with them when they performed their doomed assault. Though, I was somewhat irritated that my bag, and my grimoire, had lacked even a single guard. As I thought that, an infested vulture landed beside me, in the lee I was sheltering behind. It croaked. It stank of irritation. It felt dumb. There was nuance that was missing from before. It took some effort for me to even figure out what it was trying to convey: Weakness. Anger. Loss. Need for reinforcements. It wanted to return to Emboru then. Naturally, I refused. We had already traveled several days away from Emboru¡¯s nest. It would be a waste to turn around. The dumb bird would not sway me. It did give me a look though. Ignoring it, I put some distance between me and the bandits¡¯ hold. Once I felt safe, I pulled out the grimoire, and I snapped the bloody crystal back into place on the cover. The book began to glow with blues and red wisps of light. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (2/9)
      • Featherlight I (2/9) (+1)
      • Inversion (2/9) (+1)
  • Stealth I (5/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (3/9) (+1)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (6/9) (+1)
    • Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9) (+1)
  • Closed
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.16 The book began to glow with blues and red wisps of light. Unfortunately, other than the vague instructions passed on by Emboru, I had little knowledge of what was supposed to happen. Was I supposed to open the book, to read it? The last time I checked, the pages were all blank. Was the book even meant to be opened? Meanwhile, the tones from the crystal became a solid red, and the glow increased, until I worried that the light would be visible from a distance. Drawing predators or bandits, or something worse, would be far from optimal. Deciding to obfuscate, I pulled off my jacket and threw it over the grimoire. However, the glow did not abate. Instead, it continued, as though nothing stood between the book and the night sky. It was comparable to a lit fire, and with the increasing light, I worried I would soon be revealed. I tried removing the crystal knife from the grimoire¡¯s cover, but it was well and truly stuck. My fingers slipped along the sharp edge and left a slick trail of blood. Unfortunate. The light¡¯s intensity was increasing. Either I needed to flee, cut my losses. Or, I needed to address the issue. Were this light caused by anything else besides this grimoire, I would have fled. But, I had paid too dearly for this opportunity. Abandoning it now, on the cusp of success, would be folly. Thus, I began tossing slate rocks atop it. Bizarrely, the light continued to intensify, regardless of whatever I covered it with. At my wits end, I used my own body, throwing myself over the pile, where the glow came most strongly. It was warm and cold and left me sweating wherever it touched. But the glow ended where I touched. The temperature continued spiking, too hot, too cold, even hotter, even colder, until I thought I could bear it no longer. I clenched my eyes closed tightly. Pressure grew, as though I was held firmly. I almost thought I was lifted up once more, carried once more. I heard voices. They were speaking. Mumbling. Too far, too distant. Was that¡­ English? No. It was something else. I knew English. The conversation ended, and I was left drifting in a foggy haze. This was not natural. Something had gone very wrong. I tried moving, fearing the worst. My limbs did not respond. Was I paralyzed? No, I still felt. Was I bound? Not that I could tell. I tried inching along, but I could not tell which way was down. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. A presence approached, a shadow, an imprint. Without vision, I saw. Without hearing, I heard. I could catch hints of their musk. What was this madness? The presence spoke, they were male, with a voice at once smooth and rough. Come to think of it, I could not be sure the voice was male. Or, what language they spoke. But understood them, I did. ¡°Tribute¡­ accepted.¡± Tribute? I wanted to ask. But my lips failed to move. The voice responded all the same, as if they had heard me speak. ¡°A life claimed. A spirit offered. What favor is sought?¡± What I sought? The entire purpose of this was to claim a Spell that would allow me to disguise myself as a human. Did the grimoire not know, or did I need to communicate that in some fashion. I focused on that idea as far as I could. I needed a disguise. Well, no. What I actually wanted was to be human again. A disguise implied I was still this furry humanoid underneath. ¡°Seeking a Spell to Alter Self¡­ Desire for freedom of choice, strength of action¡­ finality of resolution?¡± The way they spoke, it implied that only one of those three could be chosen. Each word came laden with additional meanings, at least, that seemed their intent. However, much was left unsaid, unknown. Such as the original Spell to alter self. Was that what I had asked for? To take a human shape? I hoped yes, but had no way to confirm. And then of the three choices, what did they mean? Freedom was always welcome, and would expand my options. But so would strength. However, I needed context of what those meant in order to understand more. Afterall, the strong often had freedom, and some could say that service brought freedom. The only option I could make sense of was finality of resolution, as it seemed to imply the scale of time. And even then, I was unsure. What do you mean? I tried to communicate, but in vain. ¡°Choose, or chosen for you.¡± How could I choose when the options were unclear?! The voice did not respond, but I could feel the timer running out. My stress was ramping up. My heart beating faster and faster. I needed to choose. The walls were closing in. But that made no sense! What was this¡­ a panic attack? But¡­ why? ¡°Choose!¡± I blurted the only option that might have made sense. Resolution. ¡°So chosen. So given.¡± Every follicle of hair erupted in fire. My spine froze and crackled as vertebrae popped. My nose twisted and tore. Wordlessly, soundlessly, I howled into the dark. Spell Gained: Guise of the Kitsune: 1/9 Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (2/9)
      • Featherlight I (2/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
  • Stealth I (5/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (3/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (6/9)
    • Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (1/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.17 The infested vulture returned from scouting the Crown¡¯s highway, alighting on my modified shoulder. Its talons dug into where the gel like substance had crawled up my stump, covering my skin, and stopping at my shoulder. At least, I hoped it had stopped there. One benefit of the invasive arm replacement, however, was that the substance acted like a sort of armor. While the talons dug in, I felt nothing more than pressure. And the vulture was a big one too. ¡°The way clear?¡± I asked it, attempting to convey my question the best I could in parallel. The vulture gave a strong feeling of negation, almost shaking its head. It angled its beak to the angle, directing me a bit off course from our initial trajectory. It must have found some den or another, and was directing me around it. Despite the vulture¡¯s dimwits, we had been getting better at interpreting each other. In a way, the vulture was almost becoming a companion. Mother knew there was no one else to keep me company, and the wastes were lonely. Several days had passed since I had ingested the grimoire, and during that time I had progressed southward, avoiding the denizens of the wastes as best as possible. Despite the barren landscape, there were several predators that made their homes in the crags. And of course, there were the outlaws and the hundeors as well. Fortunately, the vulture provided some reconnaissance to avoid the worst of it. I shifted under the weight of the vulture and kept walking, a constant trudge across a broken landscape. We were getting close to Southbridge, I was sure of it. And finally, I would be able to integrate with the humans, and not be taken in as a pet or a mothersworn slave. Just thinking about that made my blood boil. Never again, I promised myself. ¡°Craaah?¡± The vulture croaked, questioning my sudden turn in mood. ¡°It was nothing,¡± I said, waving it off with my right hand, before feeling at my neck where a collar had previously sat. It was gone, of course, but the weight of it was still there, at least in my mind. As I probed the skin, I felt the alien tendrils following my spine. Emboru had promised it would prevent a collar from sealing my abilities, but I had been hesitant to test it. Foolish, I know. I should have tested it. I had the opportunity to, while with Emboru. We had the collar, we had the key. But when they offered to put it back on¡­ I could not. I just¡­ could not. I shuddered again. The vulture pecked at the top of my head, where my ears used to sit. That brought me out of the unpleasant reminiscent, which likely was the vulture¡¯s intent. I was a human now. At least, I appeared to be, and physically resemble, a human. Guise of the Kitsune was an interesting Spell. When I casted it, all of my ¡®Spirit¡¯ went into it, locked into place. It left me feeling drained, weary, and despondent. At least at first. While the Spirit never refilled while the Spell was active, the Spell also never broke. It had remained in place since I had first cast it, and I had been getting used to the feeling. Relearning how to move took some effort, but I felt doing so now was better than when I was in the city. The fact that I enjoyed my human body also affected my decision. It just felt good to be the correct species again, even if it was only by using a Spell. And not only was I human, but I appeared exotic as well. Were this before, back home, Mother would have been¨C -no, I resisted that thought. Mother was gone, not here, and I was safe. Though, I was certain others would fill the same niche wherever I traveled. I flexed my false arm, feeling the power coiled in the tendrils, and the potential violence they contained. The vulture squawked once more, transmitted its displeasure of being disturbed, and took flight, scratching my face with its coarse wings as it jumped off. I watched it fly off, circling once before heading towards the road, but I quickly turned my attention back towards my false arm, my left arm, the somewhat morphic gel and tendrils, that had an encroaching silver tint, and that was apparently strong enough to break a woman¡¯s back. I still had yet to resolve how I would hide the arm. Even with the tendrils and morphic gelatinous substance, it still only had three fingers at most, and it was burlier than an arm ought to be, and slightly longer. I had been practicing with it, attempting to shift it into a more realistic manner, but it was slow going. But even if it was slow going, I felt that some progress was being made. The gel seemed just slightly more compressed, and the arm felt just slightly shorter. There was no progress on the number of fingers, but I could deal with that later, with perhaps a glove. So lost in thought was I, that I almost missed them. In fact, if not for the vulture returning with a warning cry, I would have. I had been following along a hill, avoiding the ridgeline, when I came around a bend and saw the road. I should have heard them earlier, but, for all I loved my human body, its senses were subpar. The vulture landed beside me and made a hissing croaking sound, and it conveyed stress, much more than it had all the previous times it had warned me of danger. I responded quickly, dropping down and crawling towards the nearest boulder. I could still see the road. And there was movement along it, following the route north. It was a group of soldiers, marking in sync, with several carts following behind them. Even more soldiers flanked the carts and followed. They were armed with artificed weapons and swords, and their clothes were fresh, hardly dust stained at all. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. They had just come from the city then. Which meant we were getting close. But also¡­ Why were the soldiers traveling north? Were they attempting to remove the infestation, or was it something other? Either way, I had no interest in drawing their attention. Especially not with my left arm the way it was. If they saw that, they would likely assume I was infested myself. And, to be fair, I was not certain I was not infested. The soldiers did not travel quickly, and I passed the time counting them. There were fifty of them, not counting the drivers, and the support staff traveling in the wagons. The number made me wonder just how large this country was, and what sort of resources they could bring to bear against me. Or, better yet, what sort of resources I could acquire. Once the soldiers were out of sight, I began traveling southward once more, though I kept far enough from the road to remain out of sight. Evening set in, and in the distance, I saw the glow of a city. Honestly, considering the mixed technology I had seen so far, I was uncertain that the city would have a glow. But it did. It also had plumes of black smoke rising up to join the constantly overcast skies. We were getting close. I was almost there. Soon I would see the city, figure a way to hide my arm, and infiltrate. From there, I could acquire resources, do some light espionage, find Emboru¡¯s sibling, liberate, and escape. Once that was done, Emboru would hand over the Mist Egg, and help me hatch it. Apparently, it would provide some sort of boon, or companion. The egg had already bound to me, taking up a spot for a Major Glyph on my ribs, so the egg really was a sort of an anchor tying me down to Emboru. I would be glad to be finished with it. And then from there¡­ ? I¡­ might not have had any ambitions from there. Truthfully, I had never really been the sort of girl to have ambitions. I was told what to do, how to do it, where to do it, and that was that. Deviations were punished. Freedom was a new concept, and I felt some excitement, but also trepidation. These thoughts kept me busy as I approached the city. I dodged another group of soldiers marching north, but otherwise the travel was uneventful. When I crested another hilltop, I finally saw the city proper. It was a massive sprawl, seemingly divided in two by the highway. Strangely enough, the city itself was not walled, but the highway was. In fact, the highway almost seemed to pass through a carved canyon, in a straight line through the city, leading up towards a bridge which I could just barely make out. The buildings themselves were ramshackle and brick, at least near the highway. On one side, anyway. On the other side, things seemed a bit nicer, with parks. On a hill, overlooking the nice side, there was a fortified position, what might have been some sort of castle, though I had no knowledge to judge that sort of thing. There were stone walls, battlements, and towers. I assumed that was where the local ruler lived. Obviously, the nice part of town was where I wanted to land. I could probably find a nice hideaway to serve as a base of operations, and go from there. Obviously, that was when the world decided to ruin my plans. I was crossing the highway, from the east side, to the west side, where the nice part of town was, when I was spotted. The roadway had been lined with towers, and I had thought I was far enough north to avoid them, but one of them must have seen me crossing the roadway. -fppsh- A light flashed past me, hitting just in front of me on the stone, leaving a burnt spot on the ground. I froze midstep, looking at the spot. Then following the direction it had come from, until I spotted a tower that had been lined up to watch the road. Why it was there, I was unsure. But despite the mile between the tower and I, I could almost see the glint from where the soldier was watching me. A flare went up from the tower, towards me. From the base of the tower, several soldiers emerged, and began jogging towards me along the road. Why were they doing this? I wondered. I needed to move. I could not afford to be detained, especially not now, not with my false arm the way it was. The soldiers were getting closer. I had no doubts I was in the crosshairs of the tower. I had been so foolish! But, recriminations could come later. Dare I move? If I had Spirit available, I could cast an Illusion and likely escape. But¡­ dropping my disguise would still leave me drained, at least until my Spirit pool refilled, and even then, what would the soldiers think if they suddenly saw a purple haired girl turn into a purple furred non-human? My bet was nothing good. I needed to escape! I needed a distraction! A wail came from overhead, where the vulture flew, reacting to my distress despite the distance. It circled once, taking in the situation, and then flew towards the tower, approaching quickly from above. A moment¡¯s worth of hope filled me. Another pink flash. The vulture was gone. In an instant, my companion for the past several days was gone. Vaporized. A smear on the sky, a clump of smoking feathers falling towards the tower. I clamped down the emotions. This was my chance. I moved, running for the nearest cover I could find. I turned, keeping my left side towards the tower, and I ran. -fpppsh- Another flash. Eschiver: 7/9 (+1) My left arm smoldered, the shot passed through the false arm and grazed my stomach. I stumbled from the pain, worried I had been disemboweled, before catching myself and continuing. The soldiers were running towards me. And then I was behind the hill, out of sight from the tower. I continued running for some time, until I was certain I was safe. Why had the soldiers been watching the road? Was it because of the infested? Could I sneak in another way? It was dark enough and I was weary enough that I found a nook to curl up and sleep in. It was then that it hit me. The vulture had perished. I was now alone. I only had myself to count on. I was determined to avoid letting myself down. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (2/9)
      • Featherlight I (2/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
  • Stealth I (5/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (3/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (7/9) (+1)
    • Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (1/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.18 My ankles ached. My feet were blistered and sore. Featherlight I: 3/9 (+1) I had yet to drop my Guise since I had received it, although I had all the reasons in the world to do so. I had no shoes, since I had been traveling barefoot before using the Guise, and I had failed to think ahead for things that a human would actually need to travel the wastes. Most, sane people, would have traveled in the quickest, most convenient, fashion. Especially in a land as hostile as this. But no, not I. Once I used the Guise, I had cried from relief. For while my new body failed to match the one I remembered, it was human. No tail getting caught. No snout taking up the greater part of my vision. No whiskers. No fur. Everything was as it should be. And while I lost some of the hardiness and dexterity and perception of being an animal, and while I lost one of the most effective tools in my kit, my Illusions, what I gained in mental relief outweighed all of that by far. So yes, I maintained the Guise of a human. At least my lightweight lessened the strain upon my body, though it still accumulated. I was currently traveling around Southbridge, keeping the city to my left, and far enough away that the guard towers would not spot me. I had learned previously, when they had shot both me and the infested vulture, that they would not tolerate any suspicious travelers. But I would find a way in. As I went, I scouted what I could, even from a distance. And what I learned was that the city of Southbridge itself was a mess. I could hardly see through the outer perimeter of buildings and towers and heaps of steaming slag, but I still caught glimpses of the towering buildings, the bricked tenement houses decorated by graffiti, even towards the top where access ought to have been impossible. On one side of the city, there were slums and industry. On the other, parks and manors. Naturally, I traveled around the impoverished side, as I could slip in most easily there. At least, that was my hope. Truthfully, once the first night fell, I could have slipped in beneath the towers. However, even if I did sneak into the city, I worried about my false arm giving me away. Even if I could hide it, I was not confident that I could fit in with the city¡¯s customs. So I bided my time and I walked, planning. Clearly, I would need a way to disguise the arm, firstly, I needed to form it into a mostly human shape, as opposed to the three inhuman and jointless digits it was currently. And so, I practiced. My jacket, my favorite leather jacket, a gift from my sister, that had somehow survived the journey between worlds, had not been so fortunate through my journey. It was scarred and burned and the better part of my left sleeve was missing. This meant my false arm was in full, easy view, and came to be convenient. Though I would have still rather had my jacket unblemished. Regardless, I took what blessings I could. As I concentrated upon my arm, I pushed other thoughts to the side. I ignored the bellows from the distance, the clanging metal, and the calls of men and whistles. Those sounds were faint anyways, due to my human shape. Concentrating upon the arm was difficult. For it was not truly my arm. It was hardly even an extension of my will. It was always slow to respond, by a fraction of a second, but still a lagging delay with each movement. I would request a motion, the arm seemed to consider it, and then it implemented the motion in its own fashion. Using the arm almost reminded me of a negotiation. Now, that was an idea. I willed the false arm to form a hand. I pictured it as clearly as I could, similar to forming an Illusion. I overlapped it over the arm, over the gangly three digits. They twitched, they shortened a slight amount, but the gelatinous material bunched up, thickening the digits to an unrealistic width. I released the image, though the limb remained with the three short and stout tendrils. Either the limb was unable to change, or it failed to understand what I desired. I tried again and again, showing the false limb, my other arm, using different images, focusing on where the elbow should be, on firming up where the bones would have been. After two days, all while circumnavigating the city, I failed to make significant progress. My false arm pretended to have joints like an elbow and wrist, but the hand would never pass inspection, and I could not trust that the ¡®bones¡¯ would remain in place. One oddity I did notice as I practiced, however, was that the gelatinous material was continuing to take on a silver tint, obscuring the tendrils within. I did not know the cause, but it was a significant deviation from the gelatinous material of Emboru, and I took it as a good sign. I would have continued practicing, but after two days, I came to the edge of the city. Quite literally, an edge. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. To my left was the city, in all its polluted glory. Before me, was an endless chasm. Below my feet, was a trodden highway, leading from the city and following along the edge of the cliff, heading off to presumably somewhere with agricultural ties, as a massive city had to be fed. But the city and the highway and the logistics of the city were secondary thoughts. As I stood near the edge, I felt a sense of vertigo, as though I were flying. I stumbled backwards and shook myself from my reverie, feeling a sudden fear of heights. If heights was even a way to explain it. For the cliffside went down and down and down, stone and exposed ore, all the way until a blanket of darkness in the depths. It was such a deep chasm, that despite the mile from one cliff to another, light failed to penetrate the floor. It quite literally could have descended forever. The side of the cliff was not barren of activity. The city itself climbed down the face of it, with semi-permanent scaffolding, and ramshackle stairs and pulleys. Workers climbed up and down, loading ore into lifts which were pulled upwards. It explained some of the industry, I supposed. Having such materials readily available. It failed to account for feeding the workers, however. The other startling part of the chasm, and I realized the namesake of the city at once, was the colossal bridge that spanned the chasm, from cliff to cliff. From the distance, the bridge itself was blurred by the air between myself and it, but I could see a steady traffic of carts crossing it. Most notable, however, was that on the far side of the chasm, just barely in sight upon the horizon, was green. Verdant, lush, surprising, green. The wastes which I had been traveling across for what felt like forever, had come to an end. Crossing through Southbridge would bring me to the forests and jungles of the south, the ones that the Kaiva siblings had told me of. Were I not conscripted to Emboru¡¯s cause, and were they not able to infest me with a certain coded signal that could likely be transmitted by any of their infested, then, I might consider forgetting my bargain with them, just to enjoy something besides polluted gray slate and broken hills. No. I shook my head at the tempting thought. Betraying Emboru would likely lead to my death, and I was short allies as it was. Besides, they had my future companion, which they assured me would be powerful, once I hatched the Mist Egg. It would be an ordeal, but something that they had hanging over me. A loyal companion was honestly something that I direly needed. For mental health reasons. Set upon my mission, reaffirmed in my motive, I turned my attention to infiltrating Southbridge. Where the road met the city, I could see several towers, and a checkpoint of sorts. It was not something I could simply waltz through, at least not without dropping my Guise. And while I could drop the Guise, in theory, it was not my first choice. I would need to integrate into society at some point, so I figured that I might as well start now. To do so, instead of heading directly towards the city, I headed away from it. Towards wherever the road headed. I was unsure what I would find, but the road implied traffic, which implied groups coming and going. If I found a group coming, I thought I had a high chance of tacking along with them. And if they had a spare glove that I could fit my false hand into, all the better. And so, I turned my back on Southbridge, and began trudging along the worn, single lane road. It was not long until I came across an interesting sight. A portion of the plateau had been transitioned into agricultural space. Farms. How, I was unsure. But someone must have imported the soil. Throughout the farms, water collecting towers had been installed, with pipes dripping water onto the soil. The farms were not wide, maybe a quarter of a mile from the face of the cliff to inland, but the farms stretched further than I could see. I wondered what crops were grown. I did not recognize them, but spices filled the air, a pleasant change from the diesel exhaust that the rest of the wastes smelled like. Though, the exhaust was still present, even here. Just, less so. The road I was on did not cut through the farms, but instead went around them, between the farm and the inland wastes. I lost sight of the cliff, but it was always there. Miles down the road, I encountered a compound, where a ladened cart was exiting, driven by a man, one old, one young, and two meohrs. I had found my target. Putting my best smile forward, I approached. The men tensed, and while the younger one appreciated my features, the older man watched my hands, and grimaced at my silver, malformed, false arm. ¡°What business do you have, traveler?¡± The man asked. While he was riding the cart, his hands had reached under his seat, ready to pull some sort of weapon. ¡°I was hoping to catch a ride,¡± I answered, cleanly, clearly, and in the sweetest voice I could muster. ¡°Of course!¡± the young man said, returning my grin with his own youthful hope and perversion. Despite the younger one¡¯s lecherous gaze, the older one was not swayed. ¡°And you were heading away from the city, because?¡± he asked. I had thought they might not have seen my bearings, but they were right. That was, indeed, suspicious. Before I was forced to explain myself, and my awkward state of attire, the young man gave an exasperated groan ¡°Not your suspicions again! Father, clearly she is in distress. Should we not help?¡± ¡°My suspicions keep us hale and well, boy. But perhaps you may have a point. What happened to you, girl?¡± the older man asked me. He was beginning to loosen up. Fortunately, I had a half-truth ready to tell. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (2/9)
      • Featherlight I (3/9) (+1)
      • Inversion (2/9)
  • Stealth I (5/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (3/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (7/9)
    • Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (1/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.19 ¡°... What happened to you, girl?¡± the man asked. The young man looked on with a mix of both pity and hunger, while shifting in his seat away from where the man sat. It was time to sell my story, not that I had one truly prepared, at least not to the full extent that I would have liked to. But I lacked knowledge of these peoples, of their customs, of their security protocols. It was hard to plan without that knowledge. Instead, it was better to remain flexible, to adapt, as the situation developed. Though, that was not to say that I had not planned at all. Per that plan, I winced, turning my face downwards. I made a show of taking in my own pathetic state, confirming how I hoped that I was perceived. Here I stood, with bare feet, blistered and filthy and raw, with torn and blood stained pants and tank-top, with a near destroyed jacket. Clearly, I was worse for wear. However, during these seconds of self-consideration, I realized I had made a mistake. I had come across as too chipper, too eager, far more energetic than a woman should have in my position. It was too late to drastically change my approach now though, however, small adjustments could be made. ¡°I¡­¡± I trailed off, before clearing my throat. ¡°-bandits. I¡­ they¡­ I escaped.¡± I finished, aiming for a hidden sense of shame and desperation that a victim might have. At least, one in denial. I was unsure if I pulled it off, but a quick glance upwards through my bangs, and I saw that the younger of the two believed me. ¡°Bandits?¡± the man said thoughtfully, before standing up on the top of the wagon and peering about, perhaps more theatrically than proper. ¡°I see none. Are you certain, girl?¡± He was clearly still dissatisfied with my story. I would need to sell it a bit more. ¡°They¡­¡± I allowed myself to blush. ¡°...might have been a different group, but it is what I thought.¡± I finished in a small and weak voice, befitting one in such dire straits as I appeared. If I played it right, I could make my previous mistake in attitude seem part of the story, as though I were overcompensating for a shameful indiscretion, which I knew criminals were wont to do. It should be believable, I thought. However, instead of immediately buying my act, the man hopped down from the cart and approached, remaining wary, but circling me all the same. After making a circuit, he asked a simple question, ¡°Marked?¡± It was no use hiding it, the intricate swirling tattoos were visible on my right wrist and hand. It might even serve in my favor. I nodded. He let out a heavy sigh. ¡°Who do you belong to, then?¡± My eyes widened. How did he know that? I barely managed to keep from moving my hand up towards my neck. There was no collar there. There was not. I twitched. ¡°Wh-what do you mean?¡± I asked. ¡°Marks aren¡¯t free girl. Who¡¯re you with, who¡¯d you cross. What mess did you land yourself in, is it following you?¡± ¡°Father!¡± the boy protested. I felt relief though. He did not mean ¡®ownership¡¯ as in slavery, well, not in the physical sense. He meant in the ¡®indebted¡¯ sense, which was far less literal, but still quite impactful. ¡°Boy! Think with your head. She¡¯s in trouble, yes. But is she bringing it with her?¡± He gave me a weighty look. ¡°And is she dangerous?¡± His eyes glanced down towards my false hand. I shifted it a bit out of view and allowed myself to wince. It appeared he failed to recognize it for what it was, which made sense. The wyrkwik were largely unexpected this far north, and the infested had several well-defined traits which I lacked. Likely, he had come to a different conclusion concerning the false arm. I could work with that. ¡°Well, just ask her!¡± the son said. ¡°She¡¯s in distress. Besides, a little thing like her couldn¡¯t possibly be dangerous. Isn¡¯t it our duty as men to stand up for the defenseless?¡± The man grimaced. ¡°Maybe. Maybe not. Marks change things boy, remember that.¡± The weight of expectant gazes fell upon me. My throat tightened, and words grew difficult. ¡°I¨CI¡¯m not, I mean.¡± ¡°Not what?¡± the man asked, stepping away. It did not escape me that he was now closer to his wagon, towards the seat, where I thought he had a weapon hidden. ¡°N-not dangerous. And I¡¯m not¨CI¡¯m not bringing trouble. Sir.¡± ¡°Ha! See?¡± the boy said. ¡°Now can we please help her?¡± The man shrugged, not taking his eyes off me. ¡°We can¡¯t delay by getting her cleaned up, we¡¯ve got a shipment due. How about you run back in and get some spare clothes.¡± The boy hopped off, running back into the compound. The man gave my hand another glance. ¡°And bring some working gloves!¡± he shouted. I thought I was in the clear with that order given, but the man had another idea. Once the boy was gone, the man slid a hand through his hair and grunted. ¡°A right mess you landed yourself in,¡± he mumbled, perhaps more for himself than I. He scoffed and shook his head. ¡°Not as big of a mess as the girl.¡± He stepped back up to the driver¡¯s seat and sat down with a thump. He then leaned over, elbows on knees, gazing down upon me somewhat imperiously. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. At least imperiously for one of his station. ¡°Before my fool boy comes back, what¡¯s your story? No lies this time.¡± ¡°W-what do you mean?¡± I asked, feeling uncomfortable under his attention. I had thought we had passed this part, that he had already bought what I was selling. ¡°Who Marked you?¡± He asked. ¡°You one of the Pit Crews? A working gal? No shame in that. Honest work.¡± I shook my head slowly, unsure of what he was getting at. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re gentry.¡± He sneered. The term may have been somewhat antiquated, but considering that this kingdom had royalty, and knights, I assumed ¡®gentry¡¯ came as a loaded term for the aristocratic class. I briefly considered claiming that was where my roots laid, but quickly thought better of it. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Merchant class then?¡± he said, thinking more aloud than anything. ¡°Might explain a few things. But what brings you out this far?¡± I was beginning to get a handle on this man, and so I answered a bit more confidently. ¡°Would you believe me if I said bandits?¡± ¡°You already did¡­ and I do not believe you, no.¡± After another pause, he shrugged. ¡°But maybe there¡¯s something there. You were with a caravan then? Or were you¡­ negotiating with a third party?¡± His eyes drifted off towards the wastes, implying that the third party might have been an euphemism for smugglers or that ilk. A story began assembling. If I had belonged to a ¡®merchant¡¯ house, and had been performing illicit dealings on the outskirts of the city, then that could explain some of my oddities. A deal gone bad, far more common than desirable, at least in my experience. But if that were the case, and if I had been involved in illicit dealings, then I would hardly confess to them. But an euphemism? One that let someone read between the lines, that explained some things, but avoided incriminating myself? That could work. ¡°A third party,¡± I said, licking my lips with caution while affirming his theory. I then added, ¡°They¡­ are not an issue anymore.¡± He chuckled. ¡°Big words. You took care of them then? Because from what I see¨C¡± his eyes trailed me up and down once more, leaving me feeling gross ¡°-it seems you didn¡¯t win, did you?¡± I shrugged slightly, before crossing my arms, with my false arm closer to my chest. ¡°I¡¯m here, they aren¡¯t,¡± I said. I doubted I could convince him that I was a victor in any sour deal. ¡°Escaping with my life is win enough.¡± ¡°Suppose that¡¯s true.¡± He leaned back once more, and postured against the cargo piling high behind him. It looked like cloth wrapped bales of weeds, maybe some type of hay. I could not say for certain, except I failed to recognize it. ¡°But¨C¡± he said, and the hair on the back of my neck raised up as I honed in once more upon him. ¡°-say that¡¯s true. Why were you heading away from town? And why are you trying to hitch a ride?¡± I glanced down at my feet, filthy and cracked, with disgusting toenails. At least I carried no stench, for otherwise I would have stunk. Terribly so. ¡°Taking you on is a risk,¡± he said. ¡°One I¡¯m not so sure I need to take. Despite my fool boy thinking with his cock.¡± I grimaced at the crude imagining, and instead focused on the intent behind it. It was curious. Not that he had sent the boy off with secondary intentions, for I had already realized that. Of course he removed the biased variable before questioning me. That made sense. No, the curious part was that this conversation was increasingly coming across as something I was peripherally familiar with. ¡°If there was a risk between here and town,¡± I started waylaying his claims of risk, ¡°then it would exist regardless of if I accompanied you or not. Would it not be better to travel together? Strength in numbers, and all that.¡± ¡°Heh,¡± he said, spitting down to my feet, and just missing the meohrs. ¡°What happened to shaking them off your tail?¡± I did my best to ignore him. And the metaphor of having a tail. ¡°I am not pursued.¡± ¡°Confident in your Marks then?¡± He gave a patronizing smile. ¡°I am. Caution always¨C¡± ¡°-I¡¯ll never dispute caution. But the fact is, I cannot know if what you say is true. And I think you¡¯re traveling with us for a different, less-than-lawful, reason. I think you want an easy way back in through Southbridge. Or maybe you lost your toll-pay? Either way, you need us, we don¡¯t need you, and I don¡¯t see a reason to take a risk.¡± This was what it came down to. ¡°You need an incentive, then?¡± I asked, while thinking. He already thought I came from some sort of merchant class, maybe a gray-market, or black-market one at that. He was a farmer of some sort, or a land-owner. He grew crops. Did this land prohibit drug-crops? Was that a thing here, I wondered. ¡°An incentive would help.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have payment on me.¡± ¡°But when we get back?¡± he asked. I nodded curtly. I had to refrain from coming across as too eager. ¡°Maybe good enough. Maybe not¡­¡± he said, shrugging, seeming to know I had little recourse. Of course, I could always try my luck elsewhere. Assuming he let me leave without problems. However, I thought he might have been posturing, so I pushed slightly further. ¡°You want something more?¡± I said, arching an eyebrow, channeling my best impression of what I hoped was a merchant. ¡°You got it,¡± he said. ¡°A contact and a favor.¡± I winced, before covering it up and keeping my face placid. I was pretending to be a merchant who was pretending to be a legitimate business person. It was a bit more confusing than I would have liked, but I persevered. ¡°What would the nature of this favor be?¡± I asked with hesitation. ¡°I think you know,¡± he said, now smirking. The insufferable brute. At that point, the door to the hold shut as the boy came running back with a bundle in arms. ¡°So?¡± the man asked. ¡°What¡¯ll it be?¡± I groaned. ¡°Fine. You have yourself a deal.¡± Internally, I celebrated. Now, I would just have to ditch them once I entered Southbridge. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (2/9)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
  • Stealth I (5/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (3/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (7/9)
    • Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (1/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.20 ¡°What¡¯s in the bag?¡± the boy, named John Joenson asked, attempting to make idle conversation. He was referring to my knapsack, the very same that Emboru had given me and stocked with some looted gear along with most of my original loot. Naturally, I wanted to avoid answering that. We were traveling along the laden cart, pulled by several meohrs, and from what I could tell, we still had hours to go until we arrived at Southbridge. It was unfortunately destined that the boy would continue to harass me with conversation, whereas I could hardly refute him as I wished. Afterall, I was relying on his goodwill, at least partly. His father, Master Joenson, snorted a laugh, apparently detecting my unease. He might not have been overtly malicious, but he was certainly bent that way. ¡°Now you ask that?¡± Master Joenson said, demeaning his own son. Likely, the father wished that he had thought of that earlier. But by the time the boy had returned to the cart with the clothes, the deal had already been struck, and going back upon it would make the father appear weak in front of his boy. Or, I was reading too much into the matter, and extrapolating shadows into giants. I took my time in answering the boy¡¯s question, making a show of playing with the baled cloth beneath me. In the end, I decided that the correct play was partially coy. ¡°Not clothes,¡± I said. ¡°If that¡¯s what you were wondering.¡± I gave a small smile and an almost wink to the boy who was looking over his shoulder, watching me from the seat. He laughed, despite the joke lacking humorous merits. I decided to change the subject. ¡°Thank you, by the way. I don¡¯t think I can thank you enough for the garments,¡± I said, plucking at the hem of the dress they had given me. Of course, there was the unsaid ¡®debt¡¯ that I now owed them, which the boy likely intended to exchange for sexual favors, and which the father hoped to exchange for illicit mercantile favors. Neither of them would receive any favors, regardless of what they wanted or their expectations. Implied expectations were some of the easiest to twist, as disgusting as the practice was. Besides, while the clothes they had given me might have been a far improvement to what I had been wearing, they were hardly my color. The yellow dress clashed with my color palette, and the skirt had far, far, too many pleats, with several underskirts. It had come with white tights and some sort of rugged loafers. The dress did have long sleeves though, which was a must. John had seemed sweet on the clothes, and had mentioned that they had belonged to his sister, before she had moved out. From the way his face fell, it seemed that his sister¡¯s relocation might not have been consensual. I decided not to pry. ¡°I could hardly leave you in those rags,¡± John boasted, as though common decency left me in his debt. Well, when compared to the bulk of the humans I have met, it just might, at least as far as typical humans were concerned. I was unsure in that regard. ¡°Oh!¡± I said, making a show of smacking my forehead. ¡°I forgot. I do have clothes in my bag. I had to put my own somewhere, afterall¨C¡± I gave a wry grin, playing it up. He laughed, again. It was grating. Dear mother, it was so very grating. I plucked at the bale beneath me once more. With my current seat, I was elevated above both men, as the cargo was loaded to thrice the height of the cart. Ordinarily, I would have thought the load top heavy, but with the goods as light as they were, it seemed not a concern. Naturally I would ask about their cargo. But, I lacked knowledge of what I ought to already know, and asking an obvious question would cast suspicion upon me. So, rather, I was forced to endure small-talk, while attempting to distill anything of use that I could from the conversation, and while plotting on ways to make my escape from the Joenson duo. ¡°That¡¯s a pretty good joke!¡± John, still laughing obnoxiously, said. ¡°Know any others? If not, I¡¯ve heard a few¡­¡± His father facepalmed, ¡°Lad¡­¡± he said, before trailing off and shaking his head and muttering, ¡°Boys will be boys.¡± The conversation took several turns from there, and I did manage to learn several facts, but nothing in the depth that I truly wished. One enjoyable factoid came from an interaction between the boy and his father when the boy asked me of my Marks. Or rather, what they did. The father had flinched, just the slightest amount when John asked. From that, I inferred that it was apparently uncouth to ask one of their Marks. And I inferred it quickly enough to avoid answering. Instead, I made an act of blushing and looking away in response, and the boy stammered, realizing he was on the back foot. To make up for it, John asked about my false arm and hand, which I had concealed with the dress¡¯s sleeves and the worn leather gloves. Funnily enough, his father recoiled even more when John had asked that. Apparently, mutations or deviations were somewhat common, and a result of alchemical infusions. Of course, I could not ask further without revealing I had never received one. But it would be something for me to investigate further, at least as possible excuses for deformities went. Unfortunately, as the conversation went on, the gleanings of information grew scarcer, and the boy seemed to grow more desperate to prove his worth. The ride could not end soon enough. When the city¡¯s towers came into view, they brought mixed feelings. On one hand, apprehension: I might be inspected. I might be caught. On the other hand, relief: Soon, I would be free from the Joensons and able to begin my task. The boy seemed to read the mood, finally, and fell into silence as we all watched the approaching city. And then, of course, he broke it, shattering the blessed silence. ¡°Really is something, isn¡¯t it. I don¡¯t ever get used to it¡­ though someone like you probably takes it for granted.¡± I closed my eyes and resisted the urge to growl. ¡°What does that mean?¡± I asked, partially losing my patience. He coughed awkwardly, ¡°Nothing bad! Just that you people must be used to the sight, is all.¡± ¡°And what sort of people do you think I am?¡± I asked, perhaps more testily than was wise. Was this boy attempting to play the fool? I wondered. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. ¡°Enough,¡± Master Joenson cut John off from answering. ¡°We¡¯ll be in range of the guards soon. Boy, get the papers ready. And girl, quiet yourself. Else we¡¯ll have words soon enough on the other side.¡± We were approaching the gate. Not a gate in the traditional medieval sense, but closer to a railway crossing. A gate meant to signal and stop traffic, not meant to resist intrusion. I supposed that was what the trigger happy guard towers were for. During our approach, John grabbed a bound portfolio from beneath his seat and began rifling through the pages, looking for something in particular. ¡°Must you smudge them?¡± The older asked, sounding somewhat irritated but not truly. ¡°Sorry,¡± John chuckled. ¡°Forgot what order we put them in.¡± Master Joenson shook his head. Soon, we reached the space before the towers, where a levered gate blocked traffic. Bored soldiers in a somewhat slovenly matched uniform were at the base, and one of them approached. One of them, a woman with a bored expression, strolled around the wagon, doing a remarkably poor job of searching for contraband. She failed to check beneath the wagon, where goods could be tied. She failed to check the other side of the wooden walls of the wagon, where goods could be pressed between the bales and wood. Honestly, it was aggravating. I could have snuck in so easily, had I known. It left me wondering why the northern route was so guarded while this one was not. Was it a matter of time? Usage? Independent management? Or, could it have been the mucary and the battle that had taken place earlier¡­ there were too many possibilities to consider, so I could not say for certain, but the fact that I could have stolen into any passing wagon left me regretting the hours I had spent in the Joenson¡¯s company. Finally, the woman completed her circuit, nodding to the soldier interrogating Master Joenson. ¡°It seems mostly in order then,¡± the man in charge said, presumably some sort of officer. ¡°Always appreciate seeing honest men at work,¡± Master Joenson said, passing a few glowing Chargers to the ¡®honest man.¡¯ ¡°Toll still the same?¡± ¡°Ha. Yeah...¡± The soldiers began to file back, except for the officer. He gestured up towards me with a slight nod. ¡°Except for one matter. Who¡¯s that? You expanding the Joenson line already? What happened to those standards o¡¯ yours old man?¡± Master Joenson grunted, ¡°Something like that,.¡± ¡°Hm. Well, it¡¯ll be a bit extra¡­ as the papers weren¡¯t exactly in order.¡± Another Charger changed palms. ¡°And we¡¯re missing her identification¡­¡± Another Charger changed palms. This time, Joenson grimaced a bit. ¡°And you¡¯re¨C¡± the officer meant to keep going, but Joenson interrupted. ¡°-come now, be reasonable,¡± Master Joenson groaned. The officer smirked before starting over again. ¡°And you¡¯re all set.¡± the officer said, before he slapped a meohr on the back as he walked back to his post. The hinged gate lifted to the side. ¡°Off to the granary with ya.¡± ¡°My thanks,¡± Joenson said, not enjoying the other man¡¯s humor, keeping otherwise silent until the meohrs pulled us past the gate and into the city. Then he glared back my way. ¡°Owe me a bit more than before girl,¡± he said, as though it were my fault he had been extorted. I winced, but nodded all the same. Again, I could not appear so eager, otherwise he might suspect. So instead, I turned my attention to our surroundings, avoiding gaping, but still taking in as much as I could. The city was grimy. We were entering through an industrial quarter, where the warehouses and factories towered over us, with broken windows and graffiti, with parked carts and what might have been rails. Once again, I found myself curious at the mixed technology of this world, as there were pull-carts used as the most common form of locomotion. Either the technology was too expensive, or meohrs were that cheap. At least the stone road was decently maintained at least, with few divots or potholes. I kept track of the route, made simpler by the straightforward avenue. The primary road itself had three lanes, with a very narrow sidewalk that was raised above the gutter. The gutter, thankfully, was not clogged with human waste, though there was the scent of it; cities almost always suffered a lack of cleanliness. We only had to make two turns, before we arrived at a walled compound surrounding several silos, with a secondary compound allowing for smaller handcarts to collect the grain. The fact that the line to collect was long, that so few people were dropping off, and that I was unable to spot any such facilities¡­ It gave me a confusing signal. But clearly, these siloes were absent from food production, as food production would be much busier. At least if the grain were used to make flour. If only I were brave enough to hazard a question. I could only consider it on my own. But most grain lacked the same spiced scent of the plant product wrapped in bales.Was this a seasoning, then? Something meant for the lower classes, as opposed to just the rich? A possibility. We entered the walled compound with the silos before I arrived at an answer. There was surprisingly one other wagon getting unloaded, with two men rolling bales off the back to waiting meohr to catch and carry into the silo, where an elevator brought it the rest of the way to the top. As we parked, a worker came to discuss with Master Joenson. ¡°It will be a bit of a wait, but not long,¡± the worker said. ¡°Still haven¡¯t hired more workers?¡± Joenson asked. ¡°Ha! No need to!¡± the worker said, laughing. ¡°Just Bill ran late on the way here. Surprised you didn¡¯t cross paths with him.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t say¡­¡± Joenson gave the other wagon driver a sly-eye. ¡°Wonder if young Bill over there made a stop between here and his farm.¡± ¡°Maybe! Just maybe¡­¡± the worker said while shaking his head, humoring the statement but hardly taking action from anyone¡¯s suspicion. ¡°You don¡¯t mind waiting then?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t say I don¡¯t mind,¡± Master Joenson said, ¡°But it¡¯ll give me a chance to settle some anyways.¡± ¡°Glad to hear that, John.¡± ¡®John?¡¯ I mouthed. Were they both named John, both father and son? While I mused, the worker headed off to help unload the other wagon a bit faster, while Master Joenson pulled the junior aside. They were off towards the gate to the compound, so I was unable to hear whatever they discussed, but between the way both of them kept shooting furtive glances my way, I could guess the subject. Finally, Master Joenson, the senior, passed a large pouch to John, which John tied to his waist, before Master Joenson came back, alone. John still stood by, waiting. ¡°I know where to find you if I need you girl, so why don¡¯t you head off with John here to unwind. I¡¯m sure whatever business you got sent off on has left its mark.¡± ¡°You¡¯re that sure?¡± I risked asking as his confidence made me just that curious. ¡°Not hard to find a purple haired merchant with your¡­ oddities. Besides, your lot is only as good as your word. And you gave me your house¡¯s name.¡± I had given him a name, which was a lie of course. It was the same name I remembered from Manny Stillson, the late Caravan Master. ¡°Very well,¡± I agreed with him, for a different set of reasons. ¡°You¡¯ll contact us for that favor then?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t count on me forgetting it,¡± he waved me off. ¡°Take care of my boy.¡± Curious. Why would I take care of him? I hopped down from the wagon and approached John. This was a perfect opportunity to slip away. Nothing truly tied me down, now that I was in the city. But was I ready to embrace the city on my own? Certainly, I could do so. Just slip off into the gutters, build my kit out, learn the lay of the land. But there was a more expedient way to go about it, at least at the start. If I went with him now, I could pick his brains just a bit further, and use him as a cover as I toured the city. It would improve my starting position Besides, I could always ditch him later. As I approached him with a controlled smile, he bowed, just slightly. I once again had second thoughts. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (2/9)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
  • Stealth I (5/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (3/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (7/9)
    • Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (1/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Ingestion 1.6.X John Joenson took a furtive glance at the girl walking besides him. He tried his best not to ogle her, but he had a hard time not. This was the first time he had ever been on a date, and he was determined to score big. His dad had given him some pocket change for a date, something to impress the girl, not that he needed any help, of course! Well, maybe a little help was nice. He did tend to blurt things out, at least their farmhands had told him he did. One thing he knew though, was that if he wanted to impress anyone, then he absolutely needed to take charge. Which was why he was leading the way, as boldly as he could, while still glancing at Jackie every chance he got. Not because he was nervous he would lose her in the crowd. No, of course not that! Really, she was lucky to have caught the Ol¡¯ Joenson eye. But not ogling her was hard! It was just¡­ she was so exotic looking! Even travel-worn, she was still beautiful. That was probably why John Senior Joenson decided to humor John Junior¡¯s attempt at romance. That, and forming some of those critical life skills John Senior always talked about. That lush lilac hair though¡­ he stared dreamily¡­ so full and rich, and probably soft when freshly washed and shampooed. John Junior could just imagine running his hands through it. And then he had a naughty thought. If her hair were naturally that color¡­ Hooh boy! He blushed and turned his face away before she saw him and divined his thoughts. Shaking that thought aside before he pitched a tent, he reminded himself to focus on making a good impression. But that was hard. Because a city-girl like Jackie Stillson had to have seen it all before. She lived in Southbridge, for crying out loud! But! John had a thought about that. He figured that she would have been kept too busy, too mired in the daily grind for her to really appreciate all the sights. And so, for their first stop, he was taking her to the best outlook on the green, which was how locals called any part of the public domain. It was some dumb saying inherited from before the Shattering, at least according to his tutor. It was dumb though. They were walking along the highway, on the good side of town. The sidewalk was wide and open, with some fun stalls lining the parks and middle-class shops. Some people liked to call it the ¡®mall,¡¯ but that was a dumb name too, at least, John had always thought so. It should have been called the promenade, at least, that was what his dad always said. Oh! Oh! That reminded him of a funny. He pointed down at the highway, where the road was carved straight through the city, maybe ten yards down. Of course, it was kept at a lower elevation both to even out everyone¡¯s journey, and to provide defense in case of an invasion. Or more importantly, to make sure the Crown collected their toll. But anyways! The highway was sunken, and for good reason. Still pointing at it, and making sure he had Jackie¡¯s attention. ¡°It¡¯s called the highway,¡± he started. ¡°But really, it should have been called the low-way, right?¡± He smiled at Jackie and winked. ¡°Because of the elevation! It¡¯s lower!¡± He chuckled at his own joke, just glad to have shared it. He made sure to watch for her reaction though! She looked away, towards the shops they were passing. Some of the muscles in her face twitched, likely hiding an improper laugh. Nailed it! He thought, patting himself on the back. A half hour later, they were reaching the outlook. It was a bit crowded for John¡¯s tastes, but he could understand that. A lot of people came to the spot, it had the best view afterall! Still too many people though. Rather than focus on the crowds, and the smell, and the noise, he focused on the park. The promenade split off from the highway as it neared the bridge, and went around the bridge¡¯s towers and gates, before terminating in a large park. While he might be somewhat used to greenery, the trees and flowers and grass were a nice change of pace from the fields of grain and greenhouses. It looked like even Jackie was unused to the view though. He caught Jackie looking around at the trees and grass, mouth slightly agape. He knew it! She had been kept indoors or busy running errands that she never had the chance to enjoy the finer parts of Southbridge! And if that was the case, then she certainly would have never enjoyed the view from the end of the park. He wanted to take her there next. He tried getting her attention, but she was too busy taking everything in. Some men might have felt dismayed at being ignored, but not John! Because this was a perfect chance to get closer. It was risky, though. So, so risky. But, no guts, no glory. He chewed the inside of this lip in worry and doubt, before he decided to just go for it. He reached over and tugged on Jackie¡¯s elbow, startling her. ¡°C¡¯mon!¡± he said, before she could say anything else. ¡°The best part is this way!¡± He finished as he led her onward. And she followed! And he had touched her! So soft and warm! He could just imagine waking up next to her after a long night of passion¡­ As he daydreamed, they walked past the greens and out onto a cantilevered glass and metal decking, overlooking the chasm. Directly below their feet? Glass. Below that? Metal. Below that? Hooh boy! The Firmament! Though that part was at least a couple miles down. It changed day to day. Jackie seemed taken by the view. Truth be told, so was John, at least when he stopped thinking about Jackie for a second. He was leaning against the railing, feeling the wind tussle his hair, and watching it run its fingers through hers. She was marveling at all the activity lining the gorge all the way down. A network of ramps and elevators and tunnels, known collectively as the quarry. It was one of those industries that was allowed into the nice part of town. Or rather, under it. John briefly wondered if the miners ever dug up into someone¡¯s cellar by mistake. That would be fun! Well, maybe. It depended on what crawled up after. Jackie finally found her words. ¡°What are¡­ are¡­ Is that mist?¡± She asked, getting a view of the Firmament below. What sort of question was that? John might be a bit slow, but he was never that slow. Maybe he and her would be an even better match than he had thought? It was nice to be the one with the answers for once. ¡°Those aren¡¯t mists,¡± he answered, giving his best impression of a knowing smile. ¡°Then what are they?¡± she asked. ¡°They certainly look like them.¡± He laughed. ¡°That they do. They also look like the clouds above us! But that¡¯s the Firmament for you.¡± Her lips twitched. ¡°And what is the Firmament?¡± He rolled his eyes. Now she was hamming it up to make him feel good. Even he knew that. But! This was another good sign! ¡°The edge of the world, duh!¡± he said with a laugh. ¡°You feeling hungry? Maybe thirsty?¡± She shrugged, ¡°I could eat.¡± ¡°That settles it! C¡¯mon!¡± He began leading her back towards the promenade, and then towards the wealthier part of town. Well, they still had a ways to go before they got to the really good stuff, but the town progressively improved the further from the highway they went. Soon, they arrived at a market place where most of the guilds had offices. John could never admire the place enough. There were stalls set up in one quadrant, selling all manner of overflow from the incoming caravans, most of them from the south. They even had a fresh batch of kunbeorn, ready for purchase, though most likely would be shipped further north at a later date. The plaza had the best prices though, at least on imported goods. ¡°Wonder if we need anymore hands¡­¡± John muttered to himself, thinking of his father. Maybe, if John saved enough coin for later, he could have a nice surprise for him. It would certainly make some chores easier. Besides the crowds around the stalls, there were also the guild fronts. The Mercs, the Caravaneers, the Artificers, the Alchemists, even the Guard. If there was a sanctioned guild, then they had a front on the plaza, even if it was the size of a booth. John realized with a fright that he had been ignoring Jackie as they looked over the crowds and the goods. He caught her eye. Her expression was unusually stern. Maybe she was bored? He winced, and remembered that she was a merchant herself. Of course she would be bored here. This was where she probably normally worked or ran errands. ¡°Pretty used to this place, then?¡± he asked, scrambling for a way to salvage the date. Worst case, she would leave early and go home, or back to whatever house she worked for. He needed to distract her somehow. ¡°Still hungry?¡± A hopeful tone laced his voice. She nodded. She had already said as much. Why was he so stupid! He hit himself on the forehead. Food was easy. They had been passing by a ton of food stalls, and the smells had been enticing, but he wanted to take her to someplace special, someplace that would sear itself into her memory. Especially since any old eatery was the same as another, and there would be no reason to prolong the date if they stopped at the nearest food vendor. No, it had to be special, John decided. And there was only one place he had heard about from his friends, and from his dad, that was both nice, and appropriate for a date. One that would leave an impression. That would wow Jackie Stillson. He decided to take her to a restaurant up on the hill, in the nobel quarter, a place called, Ma¡¯Ritz. The things he had heard about the place made his own belly rumble. They had had a long day. He gave Jackie a shy grin. ¡°Well, I know a place that¡¯s really good. Worth the hike. Wanna keep going?¡± She shrugged, although her eyes lingered on the market stalls. Was there something that she wanted specifically? It might make a good gift for later, he thought. But then again, looking at the crowded stalls, he really thought coming back at a calmer hour might be the best bet for shopping. Soon, they departed the plaza, passing onto Mercs Quarry, which was another wide march that outfitted most of the well-to-do mercenaries and adventurer types, though the latter were mostly just successful bandits, at least according to his father. As he was jostled about in the crowds though, he saw another opportunity for physical contact with Jackie. He reached out and grabbed her forearm, hanging onto her this time. She recoiled just a bit before realizing it was him to have touched her. ¡°Sorry,¡± he said. ¡°Didn¡¯t want to lose you here. It¡¯s so busy.¡± After a pause, she gave another shrug and relaxed. ¡°You just surprised me is all.¡± He forced a smile, understanding that she was likely on edge, just the same as him. They made it past Mercs Quarry, into Mustering Square, and then finally, they reached the main boulevard heading up onto Blossom Hill. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Very well-to-do folks were taking their daily strolls along the sidewalk, enjoying the safety and the sight of the flowered gardens. The flowers were all imported from the south, though there might have been a few from the marshes too, not that he would know the difference. He had only ever been there a few times, and only when he accompanied his father on business. As they reached the inlet though, one of the Baron¡¯s men approached. They were the self appointed peace-keepers, but they had nothing on the Knights. Largely, the Baron¡¯s men were there to collect their ¡®honest dues.¡¯ ¡°You and the miss know where you¡¯re going?¡± the guard asked. The guard wore a red jacket with some golden filigree, marking him as somewhat important in the garrison, or at least, one that cleaned up well enough to take a public posting. ¡°Sure do, sir,¡± John said. ¡°Need anything?¡± ¡°...maybe,¡± the guard said, eyeing both John and Jackie with suspicion. Jackie surprisingly never squirmed under the attention, another mark in her favor. A Joenson could never show a soft hand, else there would be problems. John pulled a Charger from his pocket and tossed it. ¡°Honest pay for honest work,¡± he said, attempting the same phrase he had heard his own father utter plenty of times. The guard smirked, pocketing the Charger. ¡°That it is,¡± the guard said. ¡°Name?¡± he asked. ¡°Joenson,¡± John gave his surname with no small amount of pride. ¡°Yeah?¡± The guard asked, recognizing him. ¡°Didn¡¯t bring any nip with you?¡± John shook his head at the slang-word for something that was very impolite. However, the man had asked a question, so he answered. ¡°Left the infused stuff at the granaries. Nothing raw though.¡± ¡°Shame¡­ but for the best. On you get.¡± The guard went back to his post, leaning in the shade against a trellis. Jackie seemed to question what the ¡®nip¡¯ had been all about. Did she not realize what the Joensons grew? If so, then he would let her remain ignorant for a while longer. Because while the stuff was a must for pacifying and reducing the suffering of beasts folk, the substances could easily be abused. Shameful, really. Put a bad twist on everything. He decided to remove the suspicion from the air, and gave a playful bow to Jackie. ¡°After you,¡± he said. Jackie scoffed, almost laughed. Nailed it! They kept going, passing through the trellis lined entryway, and onto what was officially the nobel district. It was all at a higher elevation than everything else, commanding better views, and cleaner air. But despite the fact that the nobel district, and Blossom Hill in particular, were elevated, the ascent was gradual and easy, with a circuitous route leading the way. There were several shortcuts and cut-throughs, with stairs going straight to the next level, but the scenic route was what John decided to go with. More time to get to know each other, was his reasoning. He did notice Jackie taking it all in, especially the narrow alleys where shops and boutiques took care of their less than savory business. ¡°Come here often?¡± John asked, still struggling to get the girl to engage steadily. ¡°Hm?¡± she asked, glancing away from a rare independent artificery. ¡°Oh, yes. Just lost in thought.¡± She pointed at a larger building overlooking much of the hill, spreading up and down several switchbacks worth of the boulevard. ¡°Ever been there?¡± she asked, pointing at a commanding structure. ¡°The Academy?¡± he said, surprised she would have brought it up. Everyone knew that landmark, so she must have been asking something else in specific. This was corroborated when her eyes widened fractionally at his answer. ¡°No, the Joensons don¡¯t need that sort of education for what we do,¡± he explained. On the next lap of the switchback, they came across the Academy entrance. The entire institution was rather spectacular, with delicate silver columns holding up a spiraling tower. The base of it though, all leveled and bleak stone, formed an almost cliff towards the lower parts of the city. That was the way of it though. Palatial to the rich, a fortress against the masses. Or something like that. He was fairly sure he had butchered the saying. When they passed a group of students, mostly boys, loitering on the steps leading into the academy, John felt a pang of jealousy. When he felt their questioning glances, their judgemental whispers, he hastened Jackie along. Shaking his head, to clear the thoughts, he reminded himself and Jackie both of what they were all about. ¡°Almost there,¡± John said. Jackie nodded, still glancing about curiously. John figured she might not have been sent up into the neighborhood too often. Maybe she really had worked with the Pit? She seemed too nice for that though. He still thought his father had been wrong about that though. There was just no way. Soon he was brought forth from his musings. They were reaching near the summit of Blossom Hill, where it leveled out a bit, and near the secondary, slightly taller hill, where the baron himself resided. It was then that John caught scent of it: A heady fragrance. He had heard about that. And had been looking out for it. He inhaled deeply through his nose and let loose a heavy sigh. Jackie gave him a curious look, which left John stunned. Had he really smelled it first? Normally the infusion process left his senses a bit deadened, or so he had thought. Just how bad was Jackie¡¯s nose? But finally, the fragrance caught Jackie¡¯s attention. She sniffed. ¡°What¡­ what am I smelling?¡± she asked, pursing her lips and frowning, her brows pinching together. It was an adorable expression, one that John wished he could remember forever. ¡°You¡¯ll see,¡± John said, giving a sly grin. It was ten steps after that that they came in view of their destination: Ma¡¯Ritz. The restaurant, tavern, hotel, and brothel, all at the same time. It was the finest place open to the majority of well-to-dos. Most of the district frequented the place, and on special occasions, even the lower classes were known to splurge. It had even been rumored that some fool had taken on debt just to live a ¡®final night¡¯ there, as it were. Of course, when the Pit caught up with that fool¡­ well, John hoped it had been worth it. The front of the establishment was painted in the baron¡¯s colors, red and black, but with specs of blue and teal as well, denoting independence from any single family. The double doorways were mahogany, with tasteful carvings worked in. Side windows were open, and somehow vented the best smells of the kitchen out along the boulevard. It was a presence that almost rivaled the Academy. Almost. Or perhaps, John was just that hungry. Upon entering, they were waved through by a very friendly girl with a bluish tint to her skin. John wondered if that was a deviation, or a cosmetic. He still remembered the chewing out his father had given him about asking Jackie about her deviation. It was a taboo subject, he had been encouraged to recall. Regardless, she was quick to serve and guide them to a table near the tavern. It was clear that they were in the more boisterous, less private, dining area, where the prices were cheaper. He hoped. But even if the prices were cheaper near the bar, John thought the place had that expensive feel to it. It had carpets for crying out loud! But that was good, because if he thought the place was expensive, then Jackie certainly did. That meant the plan was working. And from the way Jackie kept eyeing up the decorations and clientele, John would say he nailed it. Again. The tavern seemed rowdy, with boisterous men and women taking late lunches and sharing drinks with friends. Once again, John felt some jealousy. If he lived in the city, he could come to such a place with his friends too! He gave a chagrined smile when Jackie caught him watching the patrons. ¡°Been here before?¡± Jackie asked. ¡°First time,¡± John confessed. ¡°But I¡¯ve heard amazing things. You? Your master bring you here?¡± She shrugged noncommittally. John would have furthered up on that line of dialogue, because he was fairly sure that this was her first time, but the same blue-tinted girl came back. She was certainly on the smaller side. And now that John really examined her, he thought that there was something off with her. Her face just seemed too smooth. Likely a cosmetic effect then, he decided. ¡°What might I bring you to drink today?¡± the blue tinted girl asked. Jackie¡¯s gaze fell heavily upon John, causing him to cough and blush. Being put on the spot was rough! ¡°Uhm¨C¡± he started. ¡°-Would the sir prefer a menu?¡± the server offered. ¡°Yes, please!¡± John said, feeling relieved. Jackie scoffed and shook her head slightly. John hoped that once drinks started coming, along with the food, that things would recover. As it was, he just felt like an out of place fool. And it seemed that some of the regulars were watching him, or Jackie, and that left him feeling even more nervous. The attention would take some getting used to, he decided. But he could do this. He was a Joenson, afterall. Soon, the menu came back, and John gave it a look, feeling another squirm in his belly. None of the prices were listed on the sheet of paper. And the quality of the cardstock was impeccable and thick, likely single use. Jackie arched an eyebrow, glancing at him and the menu. She seemed to know what he was thinking. This was his chance, that look said. Either go hard or go home. So¡­ he went hard. When the serving girl came back, John ordered their first round of drinks, two molten mules. It looked good, sweet, spicy, and strong. He hoped that it would help facilitate a better evening. When the drinks came, Jackie¡¯s face lit up at the first sip. John tried his, but it left his tongue burning. ¡°Molten wasn¡¯t a joke,¡± he huffed. ¡°The kick¡¯s nice,¡± Jackie admitted, her voice just a bit huskier, likely from the drink itself coating her pipes. John doubted it would have kicked in that fast, afterall. Soon after, John ordered for both of them, and Jackie had another molten mule. ¡°It was well described,¡± Jackie added nonchalantly, glancing at John¡¯s twisted expression with clear amusement. The conversation floundered until the meal came. He had ordered them the house special, and he was glad he did. Because when the meal came, the steaming plates smelled royal. John¡¯s mouth salivated. The drinks might have been a bust, too spicy, too strong, but this? This food was heretically good. It was traditional fare, tubers and gravy with thick slices of sauced bread. John was digging into his own dish when he glanced over and saw Jackie pushing around the tubers. Was she scowling at her plate? He paused in shoveling another sopping bite and cleared his mouth enough to speak. ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± he asked, with only a few flecks of food flying. ¡°Don¡¯t like it?¡± Jackie winced, shaking her head and pushing the plate gently aside. ¡°Huh,¡± John said, finishing his bite. ¡°Well, don¡¯t wanna waste it. Mind if I finish?¡± he asked, his stomach still with room enough. She pushed the plate further across the table and took her cup with both hands. ¡°Thanks!¡± John said, beaming with only a little bit of pepper stuck to his teeth. The serving girl came back as he was picking his teeth clean, discreetly of course! He used a napkin to cover his actions. When the server came back, she saw both plates before John and she frowned. ¡°Is something the matter?¡± the serving girl asked. John, still cleaning a piece of stubborn crud stuck in his gums, took a second to answer. Meanwhile, Jackie took the initiative, which left John somewhat worried that the date had taken another turn. ¡°Do you have something with more meat?¡± Jackie asked. The serving girl frowned, and John¡¯s eyes widened a bit. Meat? What kind of meat was this girl used to eating? Jackie continued on, unaware of the scandalous statement. ¡°More spice, perhaps? I thought I smelled something good from back in the kitchen, but I haven¡¯t seen that out front.¡± Maybe she meant a meat substitute? ¡°Uh¡­ sure! I¡¯ll check,¡± the girl said, hustling back. ¡°Did you mean for a fungal instead?¡± John asked, after a bit. ¡°Hm?¡± Jackie asked, head tilted. ¡°Oh, no. I meant meat.¡± This time, she did notice John¡¯s wince. But before John could explain where meat came from, and why it was almost taboo, the serving girl returned with a platter that held a single skewer. A long wooden stick with several brown and striated pieces marked by both grill and flame. John¡¯s stomach churned in a bad way when he saw the platter set down before Jackie. How much was that going to cost? He wondered. ¡°From the chef¡¯s own stock,¡± the serving girl explained, noticing several dubious glances from the nearest patrons. Jackie thanked her and took the skewer, her eyes wide, and drool practically leaking from the side of her mouth. ¡°This smells phenomenal,¡± she murmured, before nibbling off a bit of the topmost piece. John gulped. ¡°Anything else for the sir?¡± the server asked. John shook his head slightly, feeling somewhat faint. Jackie took another bite. ¡°Very well, I will return.¡± The server turned to help several of the other patrons. One of the regulars, a thickset woman with heavy cheeks, was watching in fascination as Jackie ate. ¡°I¡¯ll take another round,¡± the thickset woman ordered, before nodding to a giant of a man who accompanied her. ¡°Same for him.¡± The server hustled off, while Jackie began tearing into the meat with force. By the time the server returned with drinks for the other patrons, Jackie had finished tossing back her own liquor, and was now pointing at John¡¯s drink. John frowned in confusion. ¡°This¡­ these are strong you know? Are you sure you don¡¯t wanna pace yourself a bit?¡± his voice trailed off at a higher note. Jackie rolled her eyes. ¡°It¡¯ll be fine,¡± she said. ¡°I passed you my meal, the least you can do is share your drink. You''re just wasting it now.¡± John winced, but she had a point. He slid his drink over, and she tossed that back, setting the empty cup down. ¡°How many is that?¡± the thicker woman asked John and Jackie, though Jackie ignored her for the drink instead. ¡°That makes three for her,¡± John said with a wince. The woman whistled. ¡°For a little thing, she sure can hold ¡®em.¡± When the server came back around, the giant of a man cheered. ¡°Get the girl another round!¡± Just how much did these drinks cost?! John guessed he could dip into some of his savings. And if it was too bad, he could send the bill to his dad? Sure, his dad would whip him good if that happened. Three drinks turned to four. Four to five. Eventually, the thickset woman and the giant of the man joined Jackie and John at the table, and they began an impromptu drinking contest. They had switched from the molten mule to shots, and they tossed them back before cheering and slamming the glasses top-side down on the table, cheering. It drew more attention, and soon several onlookers had gathered around. The server was having to push through the crowd just to deliver the drinks. And during all of this, John was stuck sitting at the table, in the middle of the attention, all without drinking anything stronger than ale. He felt incredibly out of place, but he was not about to drink to oblivion while away from the safety of home. That would be the definition of foolishness, and his dad had warned him plenty. Another round of shots. Another round of cheering, of clapping, of judgemental stares at the lout sitting at the table who refused to partake in the festivities. This was too much. And it kept going and going. The faces blurred together. He tried grabbing Jackie¡¯s attention, but she was lost in the haze. She must have been. She was just¡­ ignoring him! It must have been the drink. A lout clapped him on the shoulder. Leered over him. They were all pressing in. Another shot, another cheer. Another shove. Someone shoved him? Why? Malicious? Because he chose to remain sober? It was too, too much¨Che had to¨Che fell from the chair, stumbling, pushing his way from the crowd. He half expected Jackie to follow, to at least say something. But she never called after him. None of the patrons cared that he left. The server girl was harried. It was¡­ why? Things had been going well, had they not? He needed some fresh air, to clear his head. That was it. The fumes from the liquor, from all the people, pushing in on him. He stepped further away from the crowd, and felt even better. Each step improved his mood. He exited the tavern, nobody stopped him. The night air felt good. So good, in fact, that he kept stepping, walking back down the boulevard, leaving Blossom Hill. As he reached the bottom, he realized his pouch was still full of Chargers, that he was shy of a date, and that Jackie would likely think very poorly of him. That was, if she remembered him at all. It was¡­ probably for the best. He could have gone back. But at that point, that would be even more awkward. And Jackie seemed content enough with her new friends. Really, he was probably doing her a favor. What he really needed to do was to think of something to tell his father. Absorption 2.1.1 Evasion: 7/9 (+1) Eschiver: 8/9 (+1) Stealth I: Area Coverage: 4/9 (+1) Guise of the Kitsune: 2/9 (+1) I tasted vomit. My eyes creaked open, the light spilling in from the window shutters, leaving me wincing. My head was throbbing. For a moment, I struggled to recall my arrival. I was laying on a thin mattress, with a coarse blanket bunched up around me, pressing against my skin. That worried me. For far too much of my skin was in contact with the blanket¡­ far too much of my skin felt the air. I had been stripped and tossed into bed. Regardless of my pounding headache, my eyes went wide and I sat up straight. Was I safe? I wondered. Before I further panicked, I surveyed my surroundings. I appeared to have been set in a bunk room on an upper level of a building in a nicer part of the city. I hardly smelled the exhaust or human waste here, and the view outside was a far cry from the slums I had seen previously. In the room there were three sets of bunk beds, trunks, and a few wardrobes. Hanging from a dressing chair was a familiar yellow dress and jacket, along with my knapsack. Relief flooded me as I saw those. How foolish had I been, doing whatever it was I had done? I had thought my alchemical immunity would have protected me¡­ did it not? I was unclear what exactly happened. I hurried to get dressed, only nearly falling over once due to vertigo. Distressingly, my left arm had been on full display, though the silver tint had only grown, and the alien tendrils could no longer be seen through the gelatinous substrate. Fortunate. I had just finished sliding the dress on when the door opened, without knocking. ¡°Glad to see you¡¯re up,¡± a rather large woman said as she entered. ¡°Was about to come wake you.¡± The woman was tall, thick boned, muscled, and all while still retaining a feminine grace. Notably, her skin had a greenish hue, which complimented her straw-colored hair. She carried herself with confidence, and I felt an urge to back away and hide. ¡°Where¡­ ?¡± I started to ask, but she waved off the question and snorted. ¡°Where¡¯s here?¡± The woman smirked. ¡°Ma¡¯Ritz. You never left. Or did you drink so much as to forget the city¡¯s name, in which case Southbridge. How are you alive, by the way? I assume something to do with your Marks?¡± Her eyes glanced to my right arm which had just gone into the dress¡¯s sleeves. If she had been the one to undress me, then there would have been no hiding those tattoos. Or the tendrils. As she had yet to turn me in to the authorities, either she was planning on blackmailing me, or, she failed to realize what they were. I hoped for the latter. ¡°I think so,¡± I answered, ¡°Though I would have thought them to do more.¡± I doubted I wanted to get into the details of just what I could do, at least not yet. I changed the subject. ¡°What happened to¡­¡± I realized I forgot his name ¡°...to the boy?¡± I finished rather namely. She snorted. ¡°Was hoping you could tell me the gent¡¯s name. For your own good, really.¡± ¡°...why?¡± I asked, disliking the amusement she seemed to be deriving from this. ¡°Oh, no reason. Just, he ran off without paying the substantial tab¡­¡± I grimaced. ¡°Oh,¡± I said. ¡°Oh indeed,¡± she mocked. ¡°Think you can afford it? Or should we send a runner to your home?¡± Presumably, she meant to send a messenger home to my parents, family, friends, or coworkers¨Canyone that would be willing to fork up the money for me. But that was an issue. ¡°I¡­¡± I trailed off as I thought about it, but she took it to mean something else. ¡°You can afford it?¡± she asked, briskly. ¡°No, I probably can,¡± I said, before hedging, ¡°At least I should still have enough, assuming I wasn¡¯t robbed last night.¡± ¡°If you¡¯re talking about your bag, nobody¡¯s gone through it.¡± She turned to a mirror and straightened her hair, before kissing the air. She continued after primping. ¡°Now, whether that boy rifled through it before leaving, who can say. You do have friends or family that can pay?¡± She turned her attention back towards me, cocking an eyebrow. I licked my lips, still thinking about how to play this. ¡°What if I don¡¯t?¡± I asked, thinking of getting ahead of whatever would be coming next. ¡°What if you don¡¯t¡­ what? Have friends you mean?¡± She asked, cocking her head. ¡°Why? Surely you do.¡± That was the question though. Did I? Did I know anyone here? If the boy, whatever his name was, had left me to foot the tab, then he had no intention of following up with me, which meant he and his father were out of the picture. Because while they could still come back, I doubted that they would. More likely, they would wait to see if I came for them. When I never did, they would likely consider the matter closed. So much for the father wanting a favor. If I knew nobody, and I needed a place to stay, to learn more about the city, then there would hardly be a worse place to start. ¡°I¡¯m new to town,¡± I finally answered, deciding to take a risk. ¡°I don¡¯t have anywhere else¡­¡± I lowered my head, imitating a downcast expression. Unfortunately, the woman failed to buy it. ¡°So you thought you¡¯d throw yourself on our mercy?¡± she sounded amused. ¡°No,¡± I said quickly, allowing the irritation to come through, forgetting the goal of sounding pathetic, especially since it failed to prompt the desired response. ¡°That boy said he¡¯d pay, and I guess I made the mistake of trusting him. Now, I think¡­ I think that I have enough on me to pay. But¡­¡± This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°It would cut into your budget¡­¡± she tossed her head side to side thinking, before shrugging. ¡°We can check with Ma, but we might be able to take you on. With your looks and your Marks, we could probably employ you alongside Marianne.¡± I did not know who Marianne was, nor who Ma was, and what a ridiculous name at that, but I figured I could find out who they were later. Now that I thought of it though, I realized I was unsure who the woman I was currently speaking to was named. I finished dressing then turned to her, holding out my hand. ¡°Jackie,¡± I introduced myself. She looked at it briefly, then smirked and took it in her own, her hand easily dwarfing my own. Her fingers were soft though, and warm. Her grip felt a bit tighter than necessary. ¡°Esmerelda Bogswraith,¡± she said. ¡°Grab your things and let¡¯s go.¡± That gave me a second¡¯s pause. Was she unconfident in my chances then? Not that I wanted to leave my belongings behind, but the fact that she wanted me to bring them along left me somewhat worried. I decided to fish for a bit more. ¡°I thought my stuff was safe?¡± I asked. ¡°It was safe,¡± she said. ¡°But not now. If you end up working a deal with Ma, then you¡¯ll get a trunk like this one¨C¡± she kicked at an empty trunk on the floor. ¡°Now, ready?¡± That time, she did not wait. She was turning and walking out the door, down the hallway. I hurried after her, struggling to match her pace, marveling at the decor. The hallway spoke of wealth. The floors were paneled with dark wood, and then covered with a fine carpet down the center. The walls had been decorated with crystal lamp sconces, and the doors appeared numbered and thick. Soon, we reached the stairs, and we traveled down to the second floor, which was much the same, and then to the ground floor, the main floor of the establishment. Esmerelda led me further back, past the kitchens, all the way to the end of a back hallway to the last door. There, she paused, glancing behind her at me and catching my eye before winking. Then, she knocked. A voice answered abruptly, presumably Ma. She sounded short of patience and irritated, shouting through the door, ¡°What?!¡± That sounded less than promising. ¡°Sounds like we caught her at a bad time,¡± I said. Esmerelda huffed through her nostrils, then in a lower voice to keep it from carrying through the door, ¡°That¡¯s her happy tone,¡± Esmerelda said, before raising her tone and speaking through the door. ¡°It¡¯s me! Brought the girl with the purple hair¨Cfrom last night. The one with a hollow leg, remember her?¡± ¡°Vaguely,¡± Ma answered back, still through the closed door. ¡°What¡¯s the matter, she can¡¯t pay?¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± Esmerelda said. ¡°Look, Can we come in?¡± ¡°Fine,¡± Ma said, giving the impression of spitting. Something creaked from inside, before the door tumbled unlocked. Esmerelda pressed down on the doorknob and slowly pushed open the door, letting a plume of perfume fall out, overwhelming the hallway. Ma had just returned to her seat by the time Esmerelda stepped in and gave me a view of Ma and the office both. One wall was partially transparent and filled with fragmented views of the rest of Ma¡¯Ritz. They were reminiscent of a bank full of security monitors, except instead of electronics, it seemed to be created by a relay of mirrors and opaque glass. The images were dim and offered a myriad of perspectives. The woman who had just sat down on a swivel chair, twisted about to face the door, so that her desk and the viewing windows were at her back. She was a thickset woman who wore far more makeup than I would normally advise, though it might have been the fashion for women combating their age. She had curves, and she wanted everyone to know that, seeing her cleavage and tightened bodice. ¡°Now what is it?¡± the woman asked, easing into the plump cushions of her chair. ¡°Can she pay or can she not?¡± Esmerelda hemmed a bit before shrugging and waving to me to answer. I stepped in more fully, as I did so I realized that it was not only the single wall that had mirrors, but the others as well. Disturbingly, many of the surveillance views were of separate rooms, including what might have been bedrooms, though I failed to recognize the bunk room I had awoken in. Ma cared not that I saw these displays, which meant the practice was common and above reproach, or that there was nothing I could do to move against her. ¡°Well?¡± she snapped her fingers. ¡°Out with it.¡± ¡°I can pay¡­¡± I said slowly, having a difficulty getting a read on the woman. ¡°Then what¡¯s the problem?¡± Ma asked, shifting her gaze to Esmerelda. ¡°She wants to pay with service,¡± Esmerelda explained. ¡°No,¡± Ma snapped. ¡°No. We aren¡¯t looking for new talent. You know that.¡± If Esmerelda knew that, then why would Esmerelda have implied otherwise? It sounded like there was no room for negotiation at all here. I narrowed my eyes at Esmerelda, attempting to convey my displeasure for the awkward chat. If there was no hope, Esmerelda ought to have plainly told me. Then I would have searched through my bag for liquid currency, hoped I had enough, paid, then left. Or, if I lacked the money, escaped. ¡°If I may¨C¡± Esmerelda started to speak. ¡°Can she pay with Chargers¨C?¡± Ma cut her off. ¡°-yes-¡± Esmerelda said. ¡°-then Chargers it is!¡± Ma shouted. ¡°It¡¯s not a difficult concept to grasp, girl!¡± ¡°-she has a Greater Mark!¡± Esmerelda finally managed to get in edgewise. Ma¡¯s mouth clicked shut, and she glanced between Esmerelda and myself several times, before resetting with a huff and then smiling. ¡°Well, why didn¡¯t you say that to begin with!¡± What followed was a quick discussion of logistics, capabilities, and how I could likely help out. We had just gotten to the ¡®help wanted,¡¯ part of the conversation, when the door was pushed open again, and a prim, proper, and stern woman without a wrinkle to her name entered. ¡°What¡¯s this about a new girl?¡± the newcomer asked. ¡°How¡¯d you hear that?¡± Esmerelda said. ¡°Knowing you, and knowing her¨C¡± the new girl pointed at Ma ¡°-and the fact you had yet to leave, I figured as much. But the fact is, we already don¡¯t have enough work for the girls already here, not without dropping prices, and none of the girls want that.¡± ¡°Calm yourself, Tiffany,¡± Esmerelda said. ¡°Does Jackie look old enough for that line of work?¡± Tiffany looked me over dismissively, although her eyes lingered balefully on my hair. ¡°Then what else would she be doing? Marianne hardly needs assistance. It¡¯s good for the girl to work for her keep.¡± Tiffany crossed her arms, and seemed like she wanted to scowl. ¡°That,¡± Ma said slowly, cutting in on Tiffany¡¯s tirade. ¡°And it¡¯s likely she¡¯ll be doing other duties.¡± ¡°At least tell me why?¡± Tiffany demanded. ¡°So many people are hungry for work. So why her and not someone else?¡± ¡°Because!¡± Ma snapped. ¡°Jackie comes with her own Marks,¡± Ma shrugged. ¡°And we could use someone with that versatility.¡± ¡°Do you even know what her Marks do? Are they high grade at least? Or did you simply learn she had the Marks and hired her on the spot?¡± Ma slowly licked her upper lip while nodding. ¡°You¡¯re not yet Madame, Tiffany. And at this rate, you might not ever be.¡± Tiffany¡¯s arms were crossed, not backing down. Ma sighed gustily. ¡°But you¡¯re not wrong.¡± Ma turned to me. ¡°So how about a test of that versatility.¡± I nodded. ¡°We need someone to clean the grease traps.¡± Esmerelda winced, and Tiffany laughed. ¡°Really?¡± Esmerelda asked Ma. ¡°A little dangerous.¡± ¡°It needs doing,¡± Ma said with a shrug. ¡°And it¡¯s as fine a test as any. Esmerelda, show Jackie the cellars and what she needs.¡± Tiffany shook her head, almost smiling. ¡°Hope you like rats,¡± she taunted. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (2/9)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
  • Stealth I (5/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (4/9) (+1)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (8/9) (+1)
    • Evasion (7/9) (+1)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (2/9) (+1)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.1.2 ¡°What did she mean by rats?¡± I asked, following Esmerelda out from Ma¡¯s office. Esmerelda was leading me down another hallway, this time passing through the kitchens. The setup felt modern, with ceramic sinks, bronze spigots, and both deep fryers, stove tops, and ovens. The place had running water, which boded well for my future here. It had been a long time since I had enjoyed luxuries, and I had been worried I would be stuck in a world suffering from primitive technology. As I followed her in, I reveled in the sticky air, enjoying the spices. Our steps clicked across the tiled ground, and we passed over several grates meant for drainage. A part of me wondered if the grates were the grease traps, but Esmerelda continued walking, and I continued following, until we were to the far back corner of the kitchen. There, a worn wooden hatch was set into the floor, below the tile, with a rusted ring serving as the handle. It was here that she turned to me with expectation heavy upon her furrowed brow. She scanned the surrounding kitchens, though I was unsure of why. Perhaps, she was making sure nobody was listening. But that assumed Ma was unable to spy on us through her surveillance network, that assumed that Esmerelda would know if that were the case, that assumed that Esmerelda would care if Ma heard what she were to say¡­ in short, there were far too many assumptions for me to make anything more than a guess. However, the fact she had scanned our surroundings gave the situation a subtle weight, and I could not help but feel nervous. Unfortunately, what she said next failed to quell my growing nerves. ¡°Tell me true,¡± she said. ¡°Can you fight?¡± The way she stared so intently, I feared disappointing her, and I strove to avoid wilting beneath her appraisal. I might not have been completely successful. ¡°W-what?¡± I asked, stuttering slightly. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not sure I understand where this is coming from.¡± Her brow pinched together. I found myself inspecting her in turn. Her heavy brow overhanging her eyes ought to have been ruining her beauty, but it only added a vigorous charm. Quite fascinating really, considering the beauty standards that Mother had drilled into me for when she sent me scouting for marks. She blasted air from her nostrils. ¡°Well, can you?¡± she asked, drawing me from my musings. ¡°If not, pay what you can, and pay the rest later. I¡¯d rather take the potential loss on lending you the Cee than fish your corpse up out of the cellar.¡± My corpse¡­ ? I had thought I was to clean out grease traps, which while disgusting, would hardly require combat skills nor risk my life and limb. Unless¡­ I blinked. ¡°Just how dangerous are these rats?¡± I asked, feeling somewhat scandalized. ¡°A rat on its own?¡± she clarified. ¡°Middling. But they tend to swarm. Can you handle them?¡± She raised her brow once more. Her eyes were swamp green with specks of gray floating therein. Quite notable. She snorted again, drawing my attention once more. ¡°Answer me truly,¡± she said. ¡°Can you fight?¡± While I disliked the turn of this conversation, and the requests thus far made, I had yet to hear anything truly worrying. More likely, this was merely some test for new hires to prove their mettle. If I truly thought my life were in danger here, I would likely seek employment and lodging elsewhere. ¡°You want me to fight the rats?¡± I asked for clarification, once more, because the entire situation felt off. My sister would have called it sketchy. I would call it suspect at best. ¡°What about leaving out poison for the rats?¡± I asked, assuming that this world did in fact have poison readily available. It must. I had tasted and seen the stuff produced by Alchemists. ¡°Think we haven¡¯t thought of that?¡± she scoffed. ¡°The rats track it in when we do that. It gets in the food, risks killing patrons¡­ besides, if you saw half the stuff the rats crawl through, you¡¯d realize they¡¯re resistant to the cheaper stuff.¡± While running a kitchen fell far outside my area of expertise, I had to wonder if the staff were even trying. I resisted the urge to sigh. ¡°What of traps then?¡± I asked. ¡°Have you not dealt with rats before?¡± she asked, sounding incredulous. ¡°Or are they different wherever you¡¯re from?¡± I grimaced. ¡°Enlighten me then. Please.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± she said, shaking her head slightly. ¡°The rats are adapted. I guess it might be the tunnels and warrens beneath the city, but I heard other cities got them bad too. The rats are too smart for traps. Resilient too. It¡¯s not like these are mindless vermin. They are deviated.¡± The last word came off like a curse. If what she was telling me was true, then I may have bitten off more than I could chew. However, I still remained hopeful I could handle this. Afterall, I had several powerful Marks. And despite how clever the rats were, despite how resilient they were¡­ at the end of the day, they were still rats. Despite my confidence, I felt it prudent to request advice. ¡°Any recommendations for fighting them?¡± I asked. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you know how to best fight?¡± she asked. ¡°I didn¡¯t ask before, but what sort of Marks do you have?¡± I grimaced at her. From what I knew of this land and these people, that question was rude. Uncouth even. Esmerelda realized she may have overstepped. She raised her hands up, waving me off before I could speak. ¡°Not that you have to tell me, at least not yet.¡± I frowned. She snorted. ¡°What? If you¡¯ll be working with us, you¡¯ll have to show us something.¡± ¡°If I end up working here, I suppose,¡± I said, keeping my voice as neutral as possible. ¡°But my question. Any recommendations for fighting rats?¡± ¡°Depends,¡± she said, ¡°Sticks, melee, a firm stomping maybe. It depends. Do you have Marks for combat?¡± My Marks on my own only partially pertained to combat, and I had marginal experience in using them. Largely, I relied on my Marks to avoid dangerous situations. But¡­ if I did have to fight¡­ I glanced down at my false arm, flexing the faux-fingers and making a fist. It was possible, I decided. ¡°Yes,¡± I said. And if not my Marks, my false arm. My glancing at the ¡®deviation¡¯ of my left arm did not go unnoticed. Esmerelda nodded knowingly at my arm, before clearing her throat. ¡°Anyways. If you get in over your head, scream, and I¡¯ll come down.¡± That left me somewhat confused. ¡°If you can handle the rats¡­ then why should I head down there?¡± ¡°Just because I can, doesn¡¯t mean I want to. You¡¯ll see¨C¡± she spoke through a half chortle as she opened the hatch door, revealing a dank and dark cellar that smelled horrific ¡°-what I mean.¡± She grimaced as the grimy air wafted up. With the door open, with the foulness seeping upwards with the draft, I felt dirty. Instantly. Soiled. My stomach turned in disgust. ¡°Down there?¡± I asked, unable to keep disdain from my voice. ¡°Yep!¡± Esmerelda said, now laughing. She clapped my shoulder and backed off, separating herself from the open door. ¡°I¡¯ll see about getting you a change of clothes for when you finish¨C¡± she ran her eyes over my soiled dress and poor jacket ¡°-I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll be wanting to wear those again anyways. For the best, really.¡± ¡°-new clothes? But¨C¡± ¡°-you¡¯ll need a uniform either way,¡± she shrugged. ¡°Now, off you go.¡± I hesitated. The cellar was dark and dank and left my eyes watering. ¡°Unless you¡¯re having second thoughts about working here?¡± she asked, knowing I had already decided to do this. ¡°You know, there are always easier jobs out¨C¡± ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± I said, cutting her off. Because no matter how tempting backing out was, the opportunities and stability would be incredibly helpful. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. So, before I could have further doubts, I turned and climbed down the ladder to the cellar. She called after me from above. ¡°Alright!¡± she said. ¡°Remember to call if you need help. I¡¯m going to leave the door open, but you should find the lamps down there just in case.¡± Esmerelda left as I was reaching the bottom rungs of the ladder. Climbing I: 3/9 (+1) The cellar was larger than I had expected. Much larger. It extended in all directions, running beneath what must have been most of the restaurant. Support beams and cross braces were placed regularly, running from a stone floor up to the wooden ceiling. Lanterns had been installed haphazardly on the support beams, at random, and off kilter. More than a few had been ripped from their posts. It almost looked as though the lanterns had been sabotaged. The spacious cellar was certainly a surprise. Because with this much space, I would have expected all of it to have been built for a reason, such as storage. But much of the space was empty. Which begged the question of why it had been built. I continued my inspections, to hopefully determine that reason. The stone floor was inclined, and appeared to be a natural surface. The slope followed the same direction that Ma¡¯Ritz had been built on. It could have been that cellars were standard construction here. Did other buildings have similar cellars here? If so, then that was something I could exploit. But just because the cellar had not been built specifically for storage, did not mean there was no storage there. Nails had been pounded in along planks, serving as hangers for sacks, some full, some not. Shelves had been installed between beams, making an inadvertent labyrinth. I was left with one question, though. ¡°How do I clean the grease-traps?!¡± I called out, upward, hoping that Esmerelda was still there. No answer came forth. I supposed I was to figure this out on my own. From the rank smell, I had been expecting things to be worse than they were. Where even were the grease-traps, I wondered. I followed my nose. From the kitchens above, I found several piped holes that dropped into drainage gutters. The holes themselves in the ceiling above were only piped for a short duration to avoid clogs. I realized the design relied on waterfalling the drainage down to the floor, with no regard for the splatter. If that runoff contained food waste, then it was no wonder they had a rat problem. Another result of their open pipe design, the interior of the pipe passing through the floor was visible, allowing me to see the rime of gunk and grease. This must have been the grease-trap, or part of it. But the pipes themselves would be easier to clean from above. Which meant that was not what I was meant to clear. Following the line from the pipes to the ground, where the grease would ordinarily flow, I found the drainage gutters. The source of most of the stench. The thought of getting close to the gutter left me wanting to gag, but investigate it I did. The gutter had been carved into the stone, clean and waxy, meaning the work had been done by an artificed tool. The gutter was a foot wide, and around two feet deep, though with the gunk filling up the bottom, it might have been deeper. Of course, the gutter had to run somewhere. I followed the decline. The gutter passed under one of the shelves, forcing me to make a detour, and step further from the ladder and the hatch door to safety. While my eyes could see well enough as a beast, my human eyes were weak. I had forgotten that aspect of my Guise though, and I tripped twice before reaching a lantern and lighting the space. I really ought to have done that first. It turned out that most of the lanterns failed to light. The only one that worked gave a dim blue glow, and I assumed it required a fresh Charger. Which I was not about to spend. Satisfied with that, I finished following the gutter to the edge of the cellar, where a blockage of sludge obscured a grate. So far, I felt some confusion, because there had been no rats. From the way Esmerelda spoke, I was expecting¡­ more. Perhaps she was hazing me? Or preparing me for the worst? I went back to the ladder, without tripping this time, and called up. ¡°Hey!¡± I shouted. ¡°How do I clean this stuff?¡± I waited a moment in darkness, almost giving up in waiting for a response, before someone answered. ¡°New help?!¡± the voice called down. The voice was on the feminine side of androgynous and carried a familiar accent. ¡°Yeah,¡± I answered. ¡°Do you know how to clean them?¡± ¡°Of course this one knows,¡± the voice answered. I recognized that cadence of speech. She was Kaiva then. ¡°Lift the grate and drain the sludge,¡± the voice said. ¡°Just like that?¡± I asked, still using the human tongue, though, a portion of me was tempted to speak in Kaivan, just to show off. ¡°Yes,¡± she answered. ¡°Know of the vermin?¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ the rats right?¡± ¡°Then, that is what should be done. This will be now?¡± ¡°Just about¨C¡± then I had a moment¡¯s worth of doubt ¡°-do you know where Esmerelda is?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°How big are the rats¨C¡± I started asking. ¡°This one has much work and is shutting the hatch,¡± she butted in. ¡°Good hunting.¡± And with that, the hatch door shut, and the dark cellar grew that much more oppressive, especially with only the single lantern lit. Were I to drop my Guise, I had no doubt that I would see just fine. But if I had refused to drop Guise while traveling across the wastes barefoot, I certainly would keep it up now. I scouted around the cellar and found two more working lanterns. The cellar grew just that much brighter, though the shadows only stood stronger in contrast. Once more, I followed the gutter to the grate, where the sludge met the wall. The grate. Of course, that was blocking up the thick sludge. And why would the architect install a thick iron grate? To keep whatever vermin lived on the other side out. What even was on the other side? A sewer system? A question for later. Pulling the hem of my dress up and over my nose, I came closer and knelt down by the wall, within arms reach of the grate. A burble came from the other side. A pop. A fresh wave of foul air washed over me, causing me to gag. My hand reached the top of the grate. The metal, cold, rough with corrosion, and slimy in places. I lifted up. The grate was stuck where it was, between its guide rails and the slough. I pushed harder. The metal groaned. Another burble from further in. A possible squeak, or a chitter. These human senses left much to be desired, though I would loathe to smell the sump with my true nose. Growing frustrated, I reached out with my left arm as well, my false arm, and released the imitation of bones and joints, allowing the tendrils unstructured reign. The false arm curled around the grating and I yanked. The metal screeched, despite the grease, and the grate lifted an inch. Lifting with my legs as well, I strained, and the grate continued lifting in increments. Noisy increments. Far too long passed by the time the grate had finally lifted up and out of the guide rails. Panting for breath, I set it to the side, leaning against the wall, and I sat back down on my rear. Without a tail to pinch beneath me, the experience was much richer. The sludge made a ¡®plopping¡¯ sound as it slowly sank in through where the grate had blocked it. I could already tell that most of the sludge would stick around, which meant I would need to push it along somehow. If I had my Illusions, I could summon a [Clone] and let that do the work. But with my Guise up, I was unable to use any Illusions at all. And if I dropped my Guise, then my identity as a human would be at risk, for I could not verify that none were watching me. This meant I began looking around for something to push the sludge along. There were jute sacks hanging from the rungs, but using those would foul both the bags and whatever they were holding. The shelves were half full of things I assumed the restaurant wanted to keep. No, what I needed was a piece of scrap, something that I could use as a trowel. While I ranged, I kept half an eye on the drain. I knew that there were rats on the other side, and that they were rather aggressive, per the warnings I had received. But thus far, none had scurried forth, and I had to wonder if the warnings had been overstated. However, I was not willing to completely forgo caution, which meant I was somewhat limited in my search. In the end, I found a board of composite wood which was longer than wide and, while wider than the gutter, could be used at a diagonal to push the sludge through. I began poking the sludge through, and as it went, it churned and began flowing. Soon the blockage was mostly clear, and the gutter was draining, albeit slowly. I decided that the grease trap was drained enough to call it a day, and I picked the grate back up and slid it back into place, locking out the vermin. Rising to my feet, I smirked when I heard an angry chittering from the other side of the grate. It looked like the rats would remain somebody else¡¯s problem. Clapping my hands and returning my false arm to a semblance of humanity, I began making my way back towards the ladder. Stealth I: Area Coverage (5/9) (+1) It was then that the first lantern went out. The light had been weak at best, and I figured it had finally given up the ghost, or ran out of juice. Likely a coincidence. At least that was what I figured. But then the other two lanterns went out, plunging the cellar into near blackness, with only the cracks of the ceiling and hatch door illuminating the space. ¡°Hello?¡± I called out, thinking that somebody was playing a trick. Perhaps Tiffany. Or it might have been that hazing of new coworkers. Unfortunately, the only response was a chittering, coming from all around me in the cellar. Mothersworn rats! Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (3/9) (+1)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
  • Stealth I (5/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (5/9) (+1)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (8/9)
    • Evasion (7/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (2/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.1.3 How? I had been surrounded. I assumed they were the rats, though they displayed an uncanny intelligence. Most predators would never think of sabotaging light sources, and rats were far removed from predators. At least they should have been. And how had the rats even gotten here? I had kept watch on the drain, on the entrance to the sewer, where the gutter met the wall. Unless the rats had already been in the cellar with me. But why had they waited? And the rats had somehow coordinated the deactivation of the light source was also a concern? Nothing about this situation made sense. Nothing at all. What now? My first impulse was to hide. I crouched beside the first obstruction I found, instincts guiding me to break sightlines of my silhouette, assuming the rats could see better in the dark than I could. Though I encountered a problem, my Guise was not as robust as my other self. My breathing came louder. My thighs and calves burned from the tension. The back of my neck prickled. Stealth I: 6/9 (+1) As I cowered, I tried focusing my weak human senses on the threat. What pitiful senses I had were crippeled by the dark, by the stench, though my sense of hearing remained. My nose was worthless here. But my false arm? Could it detect the rats? Perhaps, but I had limited control of it to begin with, and I had no practice in cooperating with it in such a fashion. Depending on untested and untried tools would be a foolish idea. My ears. While far weaker in this human body, could still detect the faint scarpering. Small feet padding through the cellar, tapping on tiles, padding on wood. As I focused, I found myself growing alarmed. Just how many were there? Could I run? Technically, I had cleared the blockage, cleaned the grease-trap. Did I need to deal with the rats? No, technically not. But how would it look, an employee only doing half the job? This task was meant to test me. Slinking my way through the cellar, avoiding the rats, it might have been possible, but those were hardly the skills I wanted Ma or Esmerelda to associate me with. As I ruminated and cowered, the decision was taken from me. I had been focusing on the rats circling me in the distance, I had somehow missed one that had approached much nearer. In fact, I had missed it entirely until I felt a tapping pressure on my left calf. The pressure came quickly, startling me. Its paws had made contact with my legging. Before I could do more than twitch, there came a burning pressure. From the surprise more than the pain, a brief shriek escaped my lips, breaking my stealth, assuming there were rats that had yet to find me. At the same time, I twisted and swiped at my leg. Other than shadows, I saw nothing. As I swiped, I felt nothing. Either the rat was far lighter than I expected, or I had missed. It had scurried up my ankle, bit me, then fled, all before I could counter it. Just how fast were these rats? I was strongly considering calling for help. But I had faced hundeor, bandits, and mucary. I had faced down an alchemist and a mad kaiva. What were mere rats against that? I would be a laughingstock should I be unable to handle these rats alone. No, I would best these foul creatures. I focused upon the only sense I had, upon my hearing. Bothersome how weak it was. Were I to drop my Guise, my ears and eyes would quickly make sense of my surroundings. But as my senses were currently, I struggled to hear the rats come. Still, I focused the ears that I had. A squeak from head level, a yard away. There were shelves there. A rat must have crawled up the shelves to gain height. I imagined it readying to jump. I prepared myself to catch it, and hopefully trash it. Any second, I expected a blur to shoot through the gloom towards my face. When another pressure hit my heel, it came as quite the shock. Something hot hit my skin. Not heat, fiery, pins and needles, and it hurt. I almost howled. I twisted and kicked out. A flicker from the corner of my eye. A slimy weight hit my neck. It stank. Oh mother, did it stink. I gagged even as I thrashed at it, even as its teeth tried gaining purchase on my skin. It scratched into me, leaving gashes. Where normally I had fur protecting me from assault, now I had only defenseless skin. These rats! I would not be defeated by them, not after all I had done! I remembered Esmerelda¡¯s offer. All I needed to do was cry out for help¨C Another pinch upon my thigh. Swiped down. My false arm made contact, but it was fleeting. The rat flew off, without a confirmation of death. I was surrounded. There were so many. Frustrating, I could not even count them. They moved too quickly for that. I suspected they intended to make their horde larger than it was. I would persevere. I crouched down, minimizing my profile, and coiled my false arm before me to the side. I heard a scamper. I flailed my false arm. The gelatinous material hit the stone floor. Why did I lack direct combat Marks?! I whined to myself, wondering exactly what Evasion was doing for me, if it was doing anything at all. There was a drawn out squeaking chitter¨Cwas it laughing at me? A growl escaped my lips. These rats. Another pressure to my rear¨Cmy buttocks. A rat had bit me. Enraged, uncaring of self-damage, I slammed myself backwards to the ground. I kept my head tucked forward, but my ribs ached, as did my spine, where a lump had caught. Or rather, where I had caught a lump. For as I had landed, there had been a squished squeak. I pressed back harder into the floor, bruising my ribs and spine, but pressing down all the same. I heard small bones crack and pop. The rat must have been dead. But now I was on my back, still surrounded by rats. I had not thought this entirely through. Seemingly knowing that I had slain one of their brethren, the remaining rats squealed with fury. Their paws slapped the stone as they ran, charging towards me. Only for a moment, I considered the oddity of the horde caring for any single rat. It was not a swarm mentality that I would have expected. But then again, what expectations had these rats met so far? With the rats rushing in, I swept my false arm to the side, the tendrils extending further than an arm should, several feet further. My false arm had extended. That¡­ I did not realize it could do. It almost acted as a whip. The rats squeaked in surprise, or warning amongst themselves, or perhaps I was merely anthropomorphizing them and the squeak meant nothing at all. My false arm snapped around one rat, squeezing and crunching then flinging the corpse away. That had worked well, I could do this. I would persevere. My false arm would see me through, and I could achieve gainful employment, room and board, a cover for me as I fulfilled Emboru¡¯s demands. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. There came another scamper across the wooden shelves behind me. I flung my false arm once more. The rat dodged¨Cthey were learning! Or was I anthropomorphizing again. Hard to tell. I twisted, trying to keep the false arm moving all around. A taunting squeak came from the right. I punched with my true arm. My fist struck the edge of a wooden shelf, glancing off, stubbing my knuckle. That could have been worse, but still stung. Evasion: 8/9 (+1) Mothersworn rats! I should drop my Guise, combat these rats with my all. But that would be impulsive. But what if someone saw? No, I could do this as I was! It was mere rats, and despite the frustration, they had yet to leave any true harm, unless they bore diseases¨Cwhich was a horrid thought. I had better finish this quickly. The same rat that had tricked me into punching the shelf took the opportunity of my knuckle hitting the wood to scurry up along my wrist and arm, aiming for my shoulder, possibly my neck. Those incisors hitting an artery would surely be the death of me, just the same as a blade. But I refrained from my knee jerk reaction of recoiling, of flinging my right arm, of relying on centrifugal forces to send the rat flying. I slapped it with my false arm instead. It sensed the attack, as quick as the tendrils were, and the rat jumped free, landing on my chest, before resuming its climb. It came even closer now. The false arm had committed to striking my true arm, and the tendrils had slapped against my jacket and sleeve, spending precious seconds to recoil and prepare for another strike. The rat was almost to my neck. Everything was happening too quickly! I used my right arm to brush my chest clean, but it was too slow, the rat hung on too stubbornly to the dress. Its whiskers reached my neck. Motherswear it! I needed to do something! Drop the Guise? Too late, it would take too long, I¨C My false arm split apart, three tendrils, almost tentacles, exploding free of the gelatinous base. They were finer, less encumbered, faster, more dexterous. The tendrils shot towards the rat. The rat sidestepped, dodging one tendril. The rat dropped downward inches, dodging a tendril. Already, my neck had been saved. But the tendrils would not be denied. The third tendril came from beneath and coiled around the rat¡¯s hindlegs, trapping it. The rest of the tendrils closed in. They tore into the rat, crushing it, depositing its broken bleeding remains in the gelatinous material, subsuming it. It was too dark for me to see exactly what they were doing. I was unable to feel them as I would my own limb. Only vague sensations. They felt satisfied, content. Had they eaten it?! It raised questions that I was unsure I wanted answered. The fact that the false arm could even do that without my input was frightening. Was it only humoring me¨C? Another enraged squeak. I thought it might have been the last rat. I hoped so at least. It came fast, as I worried over the false arm. The rat meant to take me from behind, likely ineffectually. The false arm seemed to think otherwise, taking steps to immediately protect me. It whipped around, flinging itself off of the shelves, causing my whole body to spin and pivot uncontrollably. Dizzying. The false arm, the tendrils, they swooped low and scooped the rat up from the ground, before crunching into it and flinging it to the side of the room. I finished falling to the ground, completing the spin. I glared at the tendrils, sending them orders to get themselves back under control. I could almost sense the arm¡¯s attitude. It seemed as though the tendrils were giving me lip? Or backtalk? Grumbling proverbially, they complied, eventually. Reforming themselves into the false arm, with the twined tendrils pretending bones and joints. The arm seemed just a bit thicker than before, likely where the mass of the rat was stored. Questions indeed. To be answered later. They would have to be. Having a portion of my body not my own¡­ it left my hackles up. It left me wondering as I caught my breath. Minutes passed. No further rats came to attack. Exhausted, rather than sticking around below and interrogating my false arm, I ensured it was passable as a deviated, somewhat human arm, and I headed back to the ladder and climbed back up. When I reached the top of the ladder, I half expected the hatch door to be locked or blocked. But the hatch swung up and open, revealing a kitchen of clattering dishes and whooshing flames. It seemed the cooks had begun for the day. Or rather, cook. When I saw her, I realized it was the same who had spoken to me previous: the Kaivan woman. She was wearing trousers, a laced shirt, and an apron. She looked like a humanized calico cat, with white and brown and black mixed together in a jumble of fur. To be generous, I would have liked to claim her fur looked silky smooth, but that would have been a lie. The damp and greasy kitchen air had left it slick and matted in places. She regarded me in turn. ¡°Your heart remains beating,¡± the cook said. ¡°The rats were dealt with, yes? The grease trap is drained?¡± I nodded, still parsing the strange way that the Kaiva spoke, and wondering why she bore no collar. No such collar at all. Was she not enslaved, I wondered. Had I been lied to by Muleater? Were there truly independent non-humanoids? It would require investigation. But later. While I pondered, she continued. ¡°Seeing this,¡± she said, ¡°This one must confess some disappointment.¡± ¡°W-what?¡± I asked. She was disappointed I succeeded? This was raising my suspicions. I had only had mixed experiences with the Kaiva, and despite her familiarity to Kissn, I was not about to trust her. Especially not when she said things like that. ¡°The gutters cleansed?¡± she explained. ¡°Good.¡± She opened a lid over a simmering pot and stirred as she spoke. The sauce or stew, whatever it was, failed to smell appetizing at all. ¡°But surviving the rats?¡± I inquired. ¡°Did my battle disrupt your cooking?¡± I offered her a graceful way to explain herself. An opportunity she discarded. ¡°A battle?¡± She scoffed. ¡°Perhaps a thrashing, from what I heard. But a battle, no.¡± She put the lid back on the pot and worked on a pan of rising bread next, kneading the dough, compressing it back down. She was wearing gloves, thankfully, otherwise her fur would have made its way into the food. While watching her move about the kitchen, I tried to figure her out. ¡°But me surviving?¡± I asked. I was now staring intently at the cook. Was she planning on murdering me? Was she an enemy? I had to assume not, because only a fool would admit to such. Was this a hazing then? Or a prank? I needed to understand where she was coming from before I could respond appropriately. ¡°Oh, surprised?¡± she gave a feline smile, almost a smirk over her shoulder, hardly paying any attention to me at all. ¡°This one had thought it was your tongue that ordered a meat dish last night.¡± Thinking back, ¡°Yeah¡­ I did¡­¡± But what did that have to do with anything¨C ¡°wait.¡± I had ordered meat. The other patrons had seemed scandalized. Was meat not so common here? If so, was it special ordered? Or¡­ was the meat procured in another fashion, I wondered. She chuffed as I visibly realized this and she shook her head, clearly amused. I hoped she was joking. I had to assume she was. Changing the subject, I asked, ¡°Where¡¯s Esmerelda?¡± ¡°Running a task for the human. The giant will return soon, this one thinks.¡± ¡°This giantess is named Esmerelda!¡± The giantess in question, Esmerelda said, poking her head around the open doorway. Esmerelda had apparently been within earshot of the kitchen, just standing outside in the hallway. I thought someone else was out there with her. ¡°Sorry girl,¡± Esmerelda said, sounding slightly contrite as she spoke. ¡°I got caught up with Tiff. You good? We¡¯ll get you cleaned up in a bit.¡± Her eyes had landed on the grime that covered my clothes, silently judging. ¡°I told you she¡¯d be fine!¡± Tiffany, the stern woman said tartly, revealing herself beyond the doorway as well. I guessed that she had been speaking with Esmerelda out there as I had been risking life and limb in the cellar. Tiffany, as opposed to Esmerelda, showed no sorrow at my state, but merely disgusted judgment. She sneered at the front of my dress. Tiffany said, ¡°But I see no point in cleaning her up if the job¡¯s undone.¡± ¡°Oh, it¡¯s done,¡± I replied. I had drained the grease traps and had killed several rats. My arm was thicker as proof of that, though I would hardly tell anyone that part. ¡°Really.¡± Tiffany asked skeptically, crossing her arms. ¡°...well, it certainly looks like you were down there. Unless you turned tail and ran.¡± ¡°Ha! Feel free to check for yourself Tiff,¡± Esmerelda answered, a broad smile splitting her face. ¡°I trust her though.¡± Tiffany scowled at the hatch door. ¡°I¡¯ll send one of the boys down later to check.¡± I refused to get in between this odd dynamic between the two of them, but I really wanted that change of clothes. I felt disgusting. ¡°This conversation can take place outside of my kitchen,¡± the cook scolded. ¡°Now get out. Unless joining the larder is your goal.¡± Esmerelda chuckled, Tiffany frowned, and I may have meeped. ¡°You know the madame hates hearing you talk about that,¡± Tiffany began lecturing the cook, as Esmerelda drew me away. ¡°She¡¯s joking right?¡± I asked to Esmerelda¡¯s back. Esmerelda waggled her hand, ¡°Sort of.¡± That answer failed to inspire confidence in my new employer. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (3/9)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
  • Stealth I (6/9) (+1)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (5/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (8/9)
    • Evasion (8/9) (+1)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (2/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.1.4 As I followed Esmerelda, I refrained from asking further. If the chef engaged in cannibalism, then that was the chef¡¯s business. Though personally, I still believed the staff to be hazing the new girl. But even if they were serious, investigating the larder for human remains would hardly win me any friends. And besides. They were likely joking. So I followed Esmerelda. We avoided the dining area and the bar, instead taking a rear set of stairs up. These stairs bypassed the second floor and went straight to the third, to the same floor I had woken up on. ¡°Smart,¡± I said, complimenting the planners and architects. ¡°This is the staff floor then?¡± ¡°And the sobering hall in one,¡± Esmerelda added, before glancing over her shoulder at me as she led, a coy smile on her green-tinted face. ¡°For when young ladies drink themselves foolish.¡± My cheeks heated slightly, which I allowed. ¡°Does that happen often?¡± I asked. Esmerelda gave another hand waggle. ¡°Generous of you to offer that service.¡± ¡°If you ask Ma, it¡¯s not altruistic.¡± ¡°She didn¡¯t seem the altruistic sort,¡± I said, thinking back on my conversation with the heavy woman in her surveillance office. ¡°I know what you mean, but she¡¯s softer than she comes across,¡± Esmerelda said. ¡°So it is altruistic then?¡± I asked. ¡°Sorta. It is situational. In general, it¡¯s not. In your case though? Take a guess if it¡¯s altruistic or not.¡± I could take a guess. It would be bad business to allow the wealthy daughters to stumble drunkenly out into the night. But for as many reasons as I could guess one way, I could guess the other way as well. Afterall, allowing the wealthy sons to ¡®escort¡¯ the drunken daughters home would likely proffer some goodwill. In my case though? A nobody, an attractive nobody? There likely would have been several patrons willing to take advantage of my drunken state. Ma could have let that happen, no loss to her, in fact, likely a boon to reputation among some crowds. And unless those crowds are undesirable for business, then it really was altruistic. At least, as Esmerelda put it, ¡®sorta.¡¯ ¡°Do you do that for everyone that ends up drunk?¡± I asked. ¡°For young women? Yes.¡± ¡°Regardless of their status?¡± ¡°Like I said, it sorta is altruistic.¡± ¡°Huh.¡± Ma had not struck me that way, and I wondered if there was something more to her motivations. Eventually, we came to a worn door that had several paints, powders, and creme residues staining around the handle and doorjamb. ¡°--Annnd here we are,¡± Esmerelda said, adding a flair of drama. She then tilted her head upwards and belted out, ¡°Marianne!¡± I flinched from the sudden sound. Esmerelda chuckled then added, ¡°Head on in there and get comfortable.¡± She then waved a hand before her face and scrunched up her nose. ¡°Don¡¯t want the girls complaining later.¡± My jaw dropped just a tad. But, it was not as though I could protest, for I did stink. The rats had smeared their stench across my clothes, and I was eager to remedy this as well. I supposed I had hesitated just a tad too long, for Esmerelda gave me a gentle push. ¡°Go on. Get cleaned up. I expect Ma¡¯ll want to put you to work sooner than later.¡± She reached across me, her hot breath hitting my cheek, surprising me, but before I reacted her hand landed on the door and she pushed it open. She and I were both fortunate that my false arm chose to ignore the violation of personal space. ¡°On you go,¡± she said, before pulling away and sauntering off. Confused, I entered what could only be called a dressing chamber with plumbing, or more of a mix between a lockerroom and the backstage of a gentlemen¡¯s club. The door shut closed behind me, and I found myself alone in such a room. The air, so heavily laden with perfumes, left my nose itching. Before the door finished shutting, I found a lantern alongside the wall and turned it on. There was a window along one wall, but the lighting was dim at best, a side-effect of the perpetual overcast. I sneezed. With the lantern lit, I saw the stray powders floating through the air. I quickly found their source. Along one wall, three vanity stations had been set up, with stools, mirrors, brushes, and creams. Several loose pieces of cloth were covered with smeared lipstick, used for blotting wet lips. Clearly, this was where the women painted themselves. I cringed slightly. Hopefully, I would remain exempt. In the middle of the room, there were several folding wooden partitions, and what might have been a common wardrobe. As I was alone, I thought of peeking to see if anything of valuable was hidden inside, but then I recalled Ma¡¯s surveillance room. Instead, I continued surveying the room. All my thoughts fell away when my eyes landed upon the far wall from the vanities. Baths. Several standing bathtubs, with plumbing. It was all in bronze, with reliefs carved into them. The metal had not been polished or oiled in sometime, as grime filled the cracks, and the rim was scuffed. I almost felt giddy. It had been ages since I had last cleaned, not counting the forced dunking I had received while a guest of the princess. Approaching them reverently, I trailed my finger over the faucet. There were several knobs, which I assumed meant temperature control. It was as I was distracted that the door opened once again, and Marianne walked in, finding me reverently fondling the tubs. ¡°Jackie?¡± Marianne asked, stalling where she was. ¡°Yes?¡± I responded. ¡°Esmerelda sent me to help get you settled in¡­ did you find the clothes she laid out?¡± I shook my head. ¡°Ah. Then. Why don¡¯t you wash up while I find them.¡± ¡°In the baths?¡± I clarified. ¡°Yes¡­? Unless you would rather not? I suppose we could find a douche¨C¡± ¡°-the bath is fine. Soaps?¡± ¡°In the cabinet under the window. The scents are separate, you¡¯ll need to add them to the base. One drop should do it¨Cdon¡¯t over do it.¡± She shuddered. ¡°Personal experience?¡± I asked. ¡°Uhh yeah. Trust me.¡± She was talking more to herself than me at that point. She checked the wardrobe, failed to find what she sought, and then muttered, ¡°Of course she hid them.¡± I went to the cabinet and found oils and powdered soaps. The vials of oils were labeled by hand in a flowery script. I held up one to my nose, and even though the vial remained stoppered, I still caught a hint of pine. I put that one back and tried another, and did not stop until I found one that reminded me of cinnamon. While I searched the soaps and oils, reveling in the choice and the luxury, Marianne called out, ¡°Be right back! Help yourself to the soaps!¡± With the soaps, I found brushes and combs, though several had loose hair tangling them. I settled on the cleanest comb. I hoped that between that and the oils that I could condition my hair into something that resembled tame. Rough travel was, well, rough, on hair care. Setting everything by the cleanest tub, turning the hot water, letting the steam wash over me¡­ relief overcame me and I slid down and into the tub. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. All too soon, my private moment of bliss came to be interrupted, as Marianne returned, carrying a bundle in her arms. ¡°Ohh, cloves? Good choice,¡± Marianne said, her eyes sweeping over the pile of soaps at the foot of the tub. ¡°But you didn¡¯t already mix them?¡± she asked. I tilted my head, confused. ¡°I thought I would add it in when I needed to?¡± ¡°But where¡¯s the mixing tray?¡± Marianne asked, lips pursed. Mixing tray? Thinking back on the cabinet, there had been a few tray like objects, along with spoons. I had grabbed the containers, and had thought to just grab a pinch as needed. Realizing that I might have seemed a brute, I blushed, though it would have been hard to see with the heat flushing my skin. ¡°Oh¡­ It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s been a bit since I bathed properly. I might have gotten a bit overexcited.¡± Marianne set the bundle down by the cabinet and rifled through it, laughing at my joke. ¡°No worries. I¡¯ll help you get straightened out. Just keep leaning back and relax¡­¡± The bathing experience was different. I had never been pampered in such a way. Marianne acted as a masseuse and beautician all in one. She used exfoliants lathered with creamy soaps, she anointed my head with oil, which was the equivalent of conditioners here. It was different, and it was nice. If not taboo, I would even say divine. Of course as she worked we talked. It was as she ran her fingers through my hair, massaging my scalp, that I voiced a question. ¡°Not that I¡¯m complaining, but isn¡¯t this rather indulgent?¡± I asked. ¡°You know,¡± Marianne answered, continuing to scrape her fingernails across follicles, leaving my leg almost twitching instinctually. I hoped that with my leg submerged, that she would have missed that reaction. It would have been embarrassing. She continued speaking, ¡°You say you¡¯r not complaining, but that sounded like a complaint. Did you want me to stop?¡± I had trouble telling if she joked or if she felt offended. Her tone was straddling the line betwixt the two. I would need to proceed carefully. ¡°No, don¡¯t stop¨C¡± I quickly said, before realizing that might have come across poorly, ¡°I-I mean not unless you want to.¡± ¡°Then I¡¯m not sure what you¡¯re saying,¡± Marianne offered. Her fingers paused where they were on my scalp, still applying pressure, but leaving me desirous for more. ¡°So, Jackie. What are you saying?¡± ¡°It¡¯s just¨C¡± I struggled to find a way to voice my concerns. I struggled to identify my own concerns. I knew that I had them, vaguely, but describing them exactly came with difficulty. However, I soon landed on at least one of the issues. Of times, favors would accrue, and would encourage incommensurate recompense. And that was ignoring the potential for a honeytrap, not that I suspected Marianne of that here. Finally, though, I found a way to voice my concerns with tact. ¡°-It¡¯s just you¡¯re being so nice and generous, and these oils and soaps must have cost someone something. I¡¯m worried that you¡¯re¡­ being too nice?¡± I finished with an intentional lack of surety. A moment of silence passed, one where I could feel the weight of consideration. During that time, her fingers did not budge. I could hear her breathing slightly, and though I kept my eyes straight ahead, I could have imagined her worrying her lip. During those heartbeats, I worried I had overplayed my hand, or underplayed it, and I castigated myself for broaching the topic unnecessarily. I could have handled that much better. I almost breathed a sigh of relief when she spoke once more. ¡°That makes sense, but it¡¯s not something to worry about, none of this¨C¡± she waved at the cabinet of soaps and the vanities ¡°-is something denied us. We have permission to use this stuff, all of us do¡­¡± Her voice trailed off a bit; she sounded embarrassed, ¡°How else would the girls stay in top form? Looks are very important here.¡± That made sense. The old adage, ¡®sex sells,¡¯ was always true, and then there was the fact that part of the business here was a brothel, and the fact that Ma invested in the aesthetics of the women here made sense. A lot of sense. Marianne went back to combing her fingers through my hair, trailing downward, until they got stuck on a knot. She tugged delicately on it to confirm, and then began working the oil in, loosening the knot carefully. ¡°You seem practiced at this,¡± I said, feeling her slowly remove the knot. It was not the first one she had encountered, either. ¡°I am,¡± she said simply. The hair came free, and she resumed her ministrations. I could feel her examination upon my hair. As she continued, she inquired: ¡°Your hair is not such as I¡¯ve seen before. What ancestry do you hail from?¡± My hair was out of place in Southbridge. I had seen plenty of people with black hair, some with brown, a rare few with blonde, and a couple of exotics like Esmerelda, Marianne, and Kate, but I had yet to see anyone with purple hair. Not even a hint of it. So Marianne¡¯s question was understandable. Unfortunately, I had no concrete answer to give her. Would she believe that, though? ¡°I¡¯m¡­¡± I said, pausing, wetting my lips, ¡°I¡¯m not sure¡­¡± ¡°Really?¡± she asked, somewhat surprised. ¡°I would have thought that your parents or relatives¨C¡± She halted herself abruptly, likely sensing she verged on uncomfortable territory. And it was uncomfortable, but for likely different reasons than what she was thinking. ¡°It is strange¡­¡± I said, with a hint of mourning lacing my voice, and a slightly downcast face. I perhaps overestimated my acting, as after that brief respite in questioning, she continued, if with a different tact. ¡°-The only thing I could think of is the Bejeweled Sands, but even then¡­ Do humans even live there?¡± An unfortunate turn. I doubted my Guise was at risk, but it would be best to avoid the topic if I could. ¡°Where even are the Bejeweled Sands?¡± I asked. Marianne snorted, ¡°Far, far to the West, on the other side of the Corpse Seas.¡± ¡°The what?¡± I asked, somewhat scandalized by the name. ¡°It makes me wonder what sort of education you¡¯ve been given, that you lack this basic knowledge¡­¡± Marianne said thoughtfully. ¡°I wonder¡­ are you perhaps playing the fool on purpose?¡± She had a playful lilt. She likely believed that I was joking then. Unfortunate. Apparently, almost everyone knew where these locations were, at least broadly. It limited my options in response though, at least if I wished to avoid offending her and further awkwardness. ¡°Perhaps,¡± I answered, attempting to copy her playful tone. I answered no further though, in hopes that the topic would end. My hopes came to naught, of course. ¡°This may seem impolite, but I mean no disrespect,¡± she said. ¡°But if you¡¯ve a distant relative from the Bejeweled Sands, then I wonder if there¡¯s some mixed ancestry in you?¡± Now that, that was too forward of her. I had to respond appropriately, or else I would risk revealing more than I wanted. ¡°Would it matter?¡± I snapped, then feigned regret and took a calming breath. ¡°I mean,¡± I said more slowly, ¡°Would it matter if I was?¡± ¡°To me?¡±Marianne said, unbothered by my reactions so far. ¡°No. But to others? Let¡¯s just say it¡¯s best to play it off as a purebred human, at least in these lands.¡± I scoffed and shook my head, pulling away from her hands. She had largely finished cleaning my hair by then anyways, and the water was growing cold. ¡°And are you of mixed ancestry?¡± I asked, an eyebrow arched, conveying some of the unpleasantness that I should have been feeling at the line of her questions. To my surprise, she did not outright deny it. ¡°Perhaps,¡± she said, with her own small and side smile. But if that were the case, and it would explain her blue-tinted skin and hair, but if that were the case: ¡°If it¡¯s hostile in these lands, then why stay?¡± I asked. ¡°That¡¯s¨C¡± she looked off and grimaced, forcing herself to take an obvious breath before answering¡°-it¡¯s a rather personal question.¡± ¡°So it¡¯s alright for you to ask those but not me?¡± I said, rising from the tub and grabbing a towel to wrap around myself. ¡°No, it¡¯s not¡­ just¡­ let¡¯s talk about something else?¡± she said meekly. I let several breaths pass, while maintaining eye contact with Marianne, before I gave her a terse nod. ¡°Then, let¡¯s talk about your duties. Nice and neutral¡­¡± she finished, more to herself than to me. While the change in subject was appreciated, I did have several concerns. For what my job would exactly entail had not been made clear. And on the inside, I worried. Afterall, this was a brothel. And while the staff had been somewhat helpful thus far, it could all be a ploy to lower my guard, or to entitle me to them. Or, they could be playing the long game, a path filled with lesser evils, until one day I was servicing men for cash, just like a¨C ¡°First things first,¡± Marianne started. My breath hitched. Perhaps I was more worried than I had thought. ¡°-don¡¯t listen to what Tiff or the others about their night business,¡± Marianne said. ¡°If you don¡¯t want to do that, then don¡¯t. Nobody will force you. And if they try? Get Esmerelda. Shout and scream for her, if you have to. Ma will understand.¡± I let the breath out in relief. Marianne noticed and gave a small, knowing smile. ¡°Second thing¨Cthe rest of the work to keep this place running, while not the ¡®night¡¯ work, is a little bit more difficult to do. The other girls will foist off everything they can on us, and sometimes they go too far. It¡¯s tough to say for sure though where that line is. So just keep an eye on it, and if it feels like it¡¯s too much, let me or Esmerelda know, and we¡¯ll see if they¡¯re taking advantage of you, or if you need more help getting the work done. Now, for that work that is expected¡­¡± She continued, listing duties that I would likely be doing for exchange for room and board. Those duties would range from bussing tables, washing dishes, to playing the hostess and server. While any particular memories failed me, I was certain this would not be the first I had played such a role. Only this time, the reasons for doing so were my own. ¡°-And finally, dress codes,¡± she continued. Unfortunately, I did not find their dress codes to be to my liking, as I soon found out from the dress and skirting they provided. I did not like it at all. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (3/9)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
  • Stealth I (6/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (5/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver (8/9)
    • Evasion (8/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (2/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.1.X.1 ¡°-et away from her!¡± Marianne hissed as she jerked upright, covered in sweat. It was almost routine for her at this point. Not always the same dream, but often enough. She did what she could to forget it, to put it behind her, to only affect the things she could control, but it was hard. She wiped her face and checked the time. Judging by the flute-work playing through the vents, it was just about time for the staff to rise. Nearly dawn, time to help the new girl. Marianne untangled herself from damp blankets and tossed them into a corner between the bunk and wall, beginning her stretches. The other girls had always been jealous of how flexible Marianne was, but it was dumb, since they only wanted the flexibility for their night-work, and Marianne was too young for that¨Ceven if she wanted to¨Cwhich she did not, because men were gross. So, Mariane was no competition to them! Unless they just wanted better paying clients, maybe? Just considering that grossed Marianne out and left her stomach turning. Ew. No, wait¨Cher stomach was rumbling, not turning! Not that the night-work was anything but gross, but what she was really feeling right now was hunger. Easy mistake, really. But now, Marianne knew without a shadow of doubt that it was time to start the day: ablutions, breakfast, more breakfast, helping the girl get settled in, and hopefully chatting. A rumbling also came from across the aisle, from the bottom bunk, where the new girl slept. She snored. Poor thing. Thankfully, none of the other girls would find out about that, otherwise they might tease Jackie. But, there could have been other girls assigned to their room¨Cit chambered four. But other than Esmerelda, none of the other girls had ever lived out of it, at least so long as Marianne had been there. The other gals usually found comfier accommodations to spend the night in. Most of them slept in too. The benefits of night-work. Still not worth it though, not for Marianne! And from what she knew, not Jackie either. They were both too young. Thankfully. Jackie was resting on the opposite bed, on the lower bunk, in a graceless position. Jackie was on her belly, her arms almost hugging the narrow mattress, her head tilted to the side a bit further than should be comfortable, and her legs tangled in her blankets. And she was drooling. Honestly. Marianne simply shook her head and wondered about how best to wake Jackie. In the end, Marianne decided that Jackie¡¯s first-first day had been hard enough, even though today was actually her first day on the job. Marianne had mercy. This time. Marianne knelt and nudged Jackie¡¯s shoulder, gently, using just a single finger. Nothing. No, not nothing. Jackie let a particular violent snoring snort loose. Ew. Enough mercy. Marianne knocked on Jackie¡¯s shoulder, like she would a door. Jackie¡¯s eyes snapped open and she recoiled, rising too quickly, hitting her head on the bunk above her, and then losing her balance and rolling backwards into the wall, where she slumped to the mattress. Marianne stifled herself, pressing her hands over her mouth, making a snort of her own. She tried. She really did. But in the end, she was unable to stop it. She giggled. And holding her mouth failed to hide that fact. All that did was cause her cheeks to poof out, which caused her to laugh even harder when she saw her reflection. The other girl failed to find the humor, instead glaring and groaning, while rubbing her head. Sleep still dusted Jackie¡¯s eyes. ¡°Ready to start the day?¡± Marianne asked, voice still full of mirth. ¡°Yes.¡± Jackie¡¯s tone felt somewhat aggressive, but that could be expected. ¡°Excellent!¡± Marianne said, clapping her hands and ignoring the hostility. ¡°Let¡¯s get washed up and changed and grab breakfast! Then we can chat before our day really starts¨C¡± ¡°-Wait.¡± Jackie interrupted. ¡°Hm?¡± Marianne paused her flurry of activity, tilting her head. Jackie¡¯s mouth was working, struggling with a question. ¡°Why¨CDid we need to wake up so early?¡± Warning bells began to chime in the back of Marianne¡¯s mind. ¡°Hmmm kinda?¡± Marianne offered, quickly trying to think of a really good reason. ¡°You said ¡®chat,¡¯¡± Jackie said, sounding very unamused. ¡°But if we¡¯ll have time to chat, then¨C¡± Marianne hurried up to explain herself. She had a reason, kind of. She just hoped the other girl would buy it. In her haste, she stumbled over her own tongue. ¡°-Well!¡± Marianne said. ¡°If you want to wash, which you mentioned last night, then we need to beat the rush.¡± Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°Rush?¡± Jackie asked, pausing the acidity, even if just temporarily. Marianne groaned and rolled her eyes. ¡°Just trust me, alright?¡± Marianne said. ¡°It¡¯s not like I woke up for fun.¡± Jackie¡¯s face narrowed for a second, and Marianne almost felt as though she were gazing into the eyes of a much older, jaded, and vengeful woman. But then Jackie¡¯s eyes softened with a sigh. ¡°Alright, then,¡± Jackie said, giving a slight nod, while picking her way up from bed. ¡°Lead on.¡± Marianne and Jackie had the vanity rooms to themselves, taking relatively quick baths, shampooing, and then drying their hair. As Marianne finished tightening her bodice, she turned to find Jackie struggling with the laces, and Jackie had yet to slip on her leggings, wearing only the long tunic to cover her thighs. It was strange. Marianne had never known of lilac hair, but it did seem to be Jackie¡¯s natural color. And speaking of coloration, Jackie¡¯s skin was far paler than most of the Middens, which would have fit in better in the far north, which was very distant, very very distant. ¡°Need a hand?¡± Marianne asked, shaking the musings aside. Jackie growled, which sounded odd coming from such a petite girl. It would be as though Marianne growled. In fact, the thought of pretending to be a rabid dog, frothing at the mouth, nearly distracted her enough to begin giggling anew. Fortunately, Marianne restrained her mirth. That time. ¡°Yes,¡± Jackie bit out, accepting the help. Marianne stepped behind her and adjusted the bodice to be straight on, and then undid all of the wrinkles in the tunic¨Cthose would end up causing discomfort partway through the day, at least if they were trapped beneath the bodice. And then Marianne began tightening the lacing, starting from bottom and working her way to the middle, before repeating again from the top. Less than a minute later, Marianne was wrapping the loose strings about Jackie¡¯s waist and tying a bow at her back. ¡°There!¡± Marianne said. ¡°Now your service jacket, and you¡¯ll be just about set¡­¡± ¡°Just about?¡± Jackie asked, arching a purple eyebrow above those bright cyan eyes. ¡°Well,¡± Marianne said, her eyes flicking down for just a second, ¡°you still need your leggings. Unless you¡¯re going for bigger tips.¡± Jackie snorted. Marianne counted that as a win. They finished readying themselves, and soon found themselves down in the kitchens, where the cook, simply called ¡®Cook¡¯ by Marianne and the rest of the staff, prepared a simple breakfast that kept well throughout the morning. ¡°There,¡± Cook said, ladling porridge into two handled bowls. ¡°Sugar¡¯s in the bowl, cream¡¯s in the chest. Leave.¡± Cook made a shooing motion with her hands. ¡°This one must ready for lunch.¡± When Jackie hesitated to grab her own bowl, Marianne grabbed it for her. ¡°See, not too hot. This is how you hold it!¡± Marianne said, fighting back a laugh at her almost joke. An almost joke, for the off-chance that Jackie was slow. It would be awful to make a full joke if Jackie were slow minded, afterall. Also, Cook hated laughter. But that was all besides the point, because Jackie was acting strange. While Marianne took the bowls to the counter, Jackie just gazed on, a strange expression on her face. Perhaps, one of distaste? Porridge was a fairly neutral dish though, hard to mess that up. Marianne shrugged. Jackie would figure it out. Unless she was actually slow. When Marianne reached the countertop with the sugar and near the cold-chest, Jackie still had yet to follow after. Marianne was beginning to worry if something was wrong. She was about to ask, but Cook beat her to it. ¡°Psss!¡± Cook said, almost hissing. ¡°Unless the hairless one plans to help, then leave. Go. Begone. Stop standing there!¡± That seemed to shake Jackie out of whatever Jackie had been doing acting like a freshly fed meohr. Jackie grimaced, but left all the same, leaving Cook¡¯s space. Cook watched with her tail swaying irritably. ¡°C¡¯mon Jackie,¡± Marianne called. ¡°How sweet do you want it?¡± Jackie¡¯s nose scrunched and she glared at the bowls. ¡°Ooookay, no sugar then¡­ ? But what about cream?¡± Marianne asked as she pulled out the jug and smelled it¨Cjust to make sure¨Cnot that Cook would allow spoiled cream in her kitchen. Once verified, Marianne dropped a dollop on her porridge. Marianne left Jackie¡¯s bowl for the other girl to tend to, along with the cream, while standing aside and waiting for the girl to come and grab it. Jackie took the hint and stepped up, sniffing the cream as well. Her eyes widened slightly, and she began pouring the jug into her bowl. It poured for one second, then two, then three¡­ ¡°Uhh Jackie?¡± Marianne prompted. Jackie tilted the jug upright, her gruel absolutely swimming in the heavy off-white goodness. ¡°Right. Likes cream,¡± Marianne said to herself, leading the way out to an out of the way spot they could eat. They ended up in a cubby just off the kitchen, where a few old papers and a pen were pushed aside. Marianne set her bowl down, and sat on a hard stool opposite of Jackie. ¡°So,¡± Marianne said, a smile splitting her face. ¡°You want some oats with your cream?¡± Jackie growled, again. Such an odd expression. Once again, Marianne giggled. She almost asked about the growling, but figured it was just one of the other girl¡¯s affections. Purely harmless, at least Marianne hoped. Jackie began spooning the mostly cream into her mouth, while Marianne ate and spoke, though never speaking with actual food in her mouth. ¡°Mhm, good,¡± Marianne said, blowing on another spoonful. ¡°Hot¡¯n fresh.¡± Jackie¡¯s eyes had narrowed, but Marianne thought that might have been normal. ¡°So, duties!¡± Marianne said. Jackie put her spoon down with a clink. ¡°You told me about them already,¡± Jackie said, tersely. ¡°I did?¡± Marianne asked, before remembering. ¡°Oh that¡¯s right! I did. Quiz time then! What are we doing today?¡± Jackie began listing them out: ¡°Leading guests to tables, receiving their orders, returning with those orders filled, pouring drinks, cleaning tables and washing dishes.¡± Marianne ticked them off while Jackie spoke, expecting the other girl to get something wrong. But Jackie listed everything¡­ which was kind of embarrassing for Marianne, so Marianne thought of a nifty excuse for bringing up redundant material. ¡°That¡¯s well and good for a high level of understanding,¡± Marianne responded with a forced haughtiness. ¡°But what about the details?¡± ¡°...details?¡± Jackie responded, sounding frigid. ¡°You did not previously share¡­ details.¡± Marianne nodded, ignoring the frost in Jackie¡¯s voice. ¡°Yep! Didn¡¯t want to overwhelm you before, but now we¡¯re gonna be going over some of the little things! Like where the menus are, what¡¯s in stock, where the rags and cleaners are, which cleaners go on wood, which on stone, and most importantly, who the best tippers are!¡± Jackie remained silent for a moment, before she licked her lips. ¡°Could these not be learned as we go along?¡± Well, of course Jackie was right on that front. But, then they would have nothing really to talk about for the next hour or so until the shift started. Unless they wanted to get into some make-work, but that was never any fun. For some reason, Marianne doubted the wisdom of confessing this to the other girl, so Marianne was forced to give a slight improvisation. ¡°Well we could if it¡¯s slow today,¡± Marianne said. Jackie nodded slowly, in comprehension. ¡°But not if we¡¯re busy. Very well. Let¡¯s go over these details of yours.¡± ¡°Yes!¡± Marianne cheered. Now she just hoped that it really was busy. Marianne nervously swallowed, which seemed to cause Jackie¡¯s eyes to tighten. Hopefully the lunch rush came hard and early. Absorption 2.1.X.2 That afternoon found both Marianne and Jackie tending the tavern floor. It was the cheaper side of the house, with an open bar, several tables, some more booths lining the wall. The chairs were wooden and upholstered, same with the bar-stools. Currently, it was solely Jackie and Marianne working there, unless the kitchen staff counted. ¡°Hey! C¡¯mon! My break¡¯ll be over soon! C¡¯monnnn, c¡¯mon! Let¡¯s go!¡± One of the regulars called out from a booth at the far side, nearest the door. He had just come in and sat himself, and suddenly expected service, immediately. He was a poor tipper too. Which made sense, since he was only a senior apprentice. If he maybe ate out for lunch a little less, then maybe he could afford to be a little more generous when he did. Also, his clothes were drab and brown, and he stank of old must. Of course, not that Marianne would tell him that. Instead, Marianne watched him enter from where she stood behind the bar, she huffed, and then she turned towards Jackie, nodding her head between Jackie and the irritating regular. ¡°You wanna take that table then?¡± Marianne asked. ¡°Show me your training in work?¡± Marianne grinned, knowing she was pulling one over on the new girl, but Jackie would have to learn somehow, and this was relatively tame, all things considered. Jackie frowned, seeming to weigh the regulars worth, and in nothing more than a second. A ghost of a sneer touched Jackie¡¯s lips, before disappearing under a placid mask. She shrugged, then answered. ¡°Sure,¡± Jackie said. ¡°Does he need a menu?¡± Shaking her head, Marianne answered, ¡°Probably not, but ya never know. You good?¡± ¡°Should be,¡± Jackie said, already steeling herself and almost marching towards the man. ¡°Remember to smile!¡± Marianne called out, causing several patrons to chuckle. ¡°Loosen up! Be friendly!¡± ¡°Yeah girl!¡± One of the three boys at the bar said. Marianne heard the extra forceful step that Jackie took after that catcall. Marianne smiled sweetly at the boys sitting at the bar. ¡°Ready for another pour?¡± she asked. Two of the boys were wrapping up their meals, but the third had just pounded back his glass and slammed it back down with a disgusting belch. Even his friends grimaced, though it was all in good humor. ¡°Impressive,¡± Marianne said, nodding to the boy, and promising herself to make him suffer. Otherwise, the bar would get too rowdy. Though, a little rowdiness was good though the energy was part of what drew the regulars back. Well, that and the food. But Marianne would have liked to think that she added something to the ambiance as well. But obnoxious belching was really going too far. Fortunately, Marianne had a plan. She started preparing the three boys¡¯ drinks, placing two glasses down before pulling down a bottle of liquor. She flipped the bottle up from behind her back, over her shoulder, and caught it by the neck before giving it a playful whirl. The boys laughed at her bottle flair; it felt good to have her skill appreciated. She tossed a few cubes of ice into the two glasses, then poured the slightly aerated ounce of brandy in. Then went the seltzer, and she topped the two drinks off with a slice of citrus. She slid the two drinks over, replacing the empties. The third boy, who had yet to receive a drink, the one who had belched, scowled. ¡°H-hey!¡± he said, almost slurring but not quite. ¡°What about me!¡± Marianne poured him a glass of water, sliding it over. ¡°Water?! I wanted another¨C¡± Marianne held up her hand, smiled, and shook her head. ¡°Sorry! But your father¡¯s the one footing the tab,¡± ¡°S-so?!¡± the boy demanded. ¡°What¡¯s that got to do with anything? S¡¯not like anyone else¡¯s dad S¡¯not paying for them too. Unless you¡¯re sayin¡¯ my family is poor?¡± His face was growing redder and redder, and his eyes were almost bulging. His friends had quieted up a little, feeling the growing tension. Because while jokes were fun and good, insulting families was not. Nobody wanted a blood feud. Marianne groaned at the boy¡¯s thick skull. ¡°No!¡± Marianne said, cutting off any further stupidness. ¡°Didn¡¯t your father speak with you about this?¡± she asked him. ¡°-About what?¡± the boy questioned, confused. Marianne sighed and rolled her head, before hanging it. She lifted it slowly, meeting the boy¡¯s eyes. ¡°That you¡¯re only allowed one strong drink, or two soft pours, but nothing other than that. Unless you want milk or juice? Seriously?¡± For a moment, all three boys froze. Marianne reveled in it, in that moment of altered fortunes, of a rowdy little boy having his spirit crushed. Delicious. Then that moment shattered. His friends roared with laughter. The rude little boy hung his head in his hands and groaned, ¡°Faaaather whyyyyy?!¡± His closest friend patted him vigorously on the back, ¡°Don¡¯t you worry! We can always find a cup of fresh meohr milk for ya!¡± Marianne forced a smile, but meohr milk was gross. The second boy finished slapping his compatriot on the back and flashed Marianne a winning playboy smile. ¡°Will you be attending the academy this year?¡± the second boy asked. Marianne hid her sudden anxiety, and returned with a smirk, ¡°Why, you offering to pay my tuition?¡± The playboy laughed off the joke, ¡°No!¡± He waved his hands. ¡°But I woulda thought Ma¡¯Ritz would sponsor you¡­ or that giant of a woman, what¡¯s her name¨C?¡± he turned to his friends in question. ¡°Esmerelda!¡± the first boy answered, before adding, ¡°May her thighs crush¨C¡± ¡°Gross!¡± Marianne cut the first boy off, much to the other boys¡¯ amusement. ¡°But seriously!¡± the playboy started up again, ¡°you¡¯ll be going to the academy?¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± Marianne said, before thinking better of leaving it as that. ¡°If I can. You know I want to.¡± ¡°Hey, no shame in that,¡± the playboy said, though it really failed to make much sense. Stupid boys. ¡°Going for the School of Grace then?¡± he asked. Marianne almost grit her teeth, but she refused. It was such a common assumption though. She was a girl, worked in the hospitality industry, so of course she would get Marked up for Grace. Ugh. Rather than voicing her ire, she decided to counter with a joke. At the very least, she would be getting a hefty tip from this. ¡°Hey now,¡± Marianne said with a smirk. ¡°I might be aiming for the School of Combat!¡± ¡°A slip of a girl like you?!¡± the gross little boy blustered, still irritated with his glass of water. ¡°This!¡± Marianne shouted, pointing at the third boy. ¡°This is why you got cut off!¡± Marianne scolded. ¡°Learn to hold your liquor!¡± The boy groaned and responded with drama and flair. He feigned a mortal wound and collapsed upon the bar. The other two boys ignored his antics, besides a light chuckle. ¡°Well¨Cif you do end up in Grace,¡± the playboy forced the conversation back on whatever tracks he was after, ¡°then I would be more than happy to help with some of the¡­ course work¡­¡± he waggled his eyebrows, as though Marianne was unaware of what he insinuated. ¡°You¡¯ll be joining the School of Grace as well?¡± Marianne asked, sounding as serious as she could. This time, the other two boys laughed at the playboy, while the playboy blushed. ¡°N-no!¡± he sputtered. ¡°I¡¯m in the School of Administration! You know that!¡± Marianne did know that. But she had spent a long enough time with the boys to guarantee a nice bit of Cee, and she had other patrons to visit. So she winked at him, then strode off to meet Jackie who was just returning. ¡°All good?¡± Marianne asked Jackie. Jackie¡¯s face was tight, her eyes narrowed, but she nodded. ¡°Yeah. Yeah I¡¯m good. That guy a regular?¡± Jackie asked, gesturing subtly to the man in the corner booth, the one who was on his lunch break. Marianne, to her credit, never grimaced. Instead, she smiled and nodded, ¡°Yep, he sure is! Why do ya ask?¡± Jackie narrowed her eyes in suspicion, before shaking her head slightly, ¡°Whatever,¡± Jackie said, before changing the subject. ¡°Where do I put his order?¡± ¡°Uhhh¡­. The kitchen?¡± Marianne asked, confused. She pointed at the large hole in the wall between the bar and the kitchen, where dishes and orders were passed back and forth. The three boys, who had been watching the exchange between the two girls, laughed at Marianne¡¯s act. This did not appear to humor Jackie, who narrowed her eyes even further, until they were almost angry lines across her face. ¡°I know that,¡± Jackie bit out. ¡°But where are the slips of paper upon which to write?¡± ¡°Oh. Ohhhhh¡­. Yeah. Those.¡± Marianne resisted the urge to scratch the back of her head. ¡°Heh-heh¡­¡± She pulled the booklet of blank orders out from her pocket. Jackie scowled as she swiped them from Marianne¡¯s hand. Some time later, chimes rang from behind the bar, causing Marianne to perk up. The lunch crowd had left, and the evening crowd were filtering in by ones and twos, mostly day drinkers, or those who finished their shifts early. The chimes which rang were connected to the front door, with a second set connected to the entrance to the tavern itself. So, when the first set of chimes rang, Marianne perked up, waiting for the second. ¡°Another patron?¡± Jackie asked dryly, just finished delivering a pitcher of ale to a duo playing cards. She had caught them watching her rear as she walked away, and while she was smart enough to avoid snapping at them, Marianne could tell that it bothered her. Or maybe, Marianne was projecting. ¡°Mmmmaybe?¡± Marianne said, drawing it out. The second set of chimes rang. ¡°Yes!¡± Marianne cheered, ¡°There it is,¡± Marianne said, glancing towards the hallway leading into the tavern. A group of men came in, three of them, all wearing the baron¡¯s colors, leather armor with black-scale brigandine and clubs at their hips. ¡°Oh,¡± Marianne said, deflating. ¡°Oh?¡± Jackie asked, questioning the shift in Marianne¡¯s mood. She turned to see the newest patrons. ¡°Are those¡­ soldiers?¡± Jackie asked. The men nodded dismissively to the barmaids and kicked an older man from a four-seater table. And while, yes, the single customer probably could have sat at the bar to free up the larger table, his relocation could have been done a bit better. The older man started to protest before seeing just who it was that had shoved him from his chair. When his eyes locked on the baron¡¯s men, the older guy fled to the bar to quickly pay his tab. ¡°Worse than soldiers,¡± Marianne said in a hushed voice. ¡°Those are the baron¡¯s peacekeepers.¡± Jackie gave a slight nod of understanding, and then muttered a word that Marianne failed to recognize. It started with a hard ¡®p¡¯ though. ¡°Want me to take the table?¡± Marianne asked, offering to do the odious duty of dealing with the newcomers. It would not do to pit the newest girl against such a potentially troublesome table. And it looked like Jackie was thinking the same way. Unfortunately, the peacekeepers called out first. ¡°Hey! New girl!¡± one of the armed and armored men called out boisterously. ¡°Get over here and let us take a look at ya!¡± ¡°Ha ha!¡± One of them laughed. ¡°Word was right! There is a new girl! Think she¡¯ll be making services available later?¡± Marianne¡¯s lips tightened, and she strongly considered getting help. She wondered if Esmerelda would be up for a quick shift, if she could even dissuade the peacekeepers. Why had they come in this side of the house anyways? It was usually ¡®beneath¡¯ them, and Marianne preferred it that way. She was pretty sure everyone did. ¡°Ahh¡­ maybe?¡± One of the peacekeepers waffled. ¡°She¡¯s a looker, but she might be a bit young for it. Ya know Ma¡¯s stances on that¨C¡± The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°-bah¨Cif they¡¯re consenting then¨C¡± ¡°-what if they¡¯re not¨C?¡± ¡°Then they can be convinced¨C¡± Jackie shuddered, but steeled herself and grabbed three menus. Marianne caught Jackie¡¯s eyes and mouthed, ¡°Sorry.¡± Both barmaids were wincing. Chauvinistic dogs. But so long as the peacekeepers kept to themselves, then there was little Marianne could really do. If the peacekeepers tried anything¡­ then Esmerelda would bounce their faces against the cobblestone. Hah, no, that was a fantasy, Marianne thought. There was no way that Ma¡¯Ritz would go to bat against the baron¡¯s men. As Jackie went to take their order, and hopefully nothing more, Marianne continued about her job and kept a side-eye on the devolving conversation. A lot of girls would roll over and play nice with the men, most of them. The men had a sense of power about them, both soft and hard, and they were used to getting what they wanted, though they remained deferential to those with actual political power¨Cthey had to. But Jackie was holding her own, and without making any overt offenses against them. Marianne hoped it would continue that way. She would have continued keeping an eye on the situation, but Tiffany entered from the kitchen side. Tiffany beckoned Marianne over. While Marianne was reluctant to leave the new girl alone, it should be safe enough, so long as Marianne was back quickly. And it was a bad idea to offend Tiffany. That woman could hold a grudge. So Marianne followed Tiffany out, stepping out into a back hallway, with the tavern remaining in earshot. She could still hear men clamoring for more drinks. Tiffany kept going a couple of steps, until the noise died down, slightly, before pausing and turning to Marianne. There, the stern woman regarded Marianne in silence, until Marianne broke the silence. ¡°Yes, Tiff?¡± ¡°Tiffany,¡± Tiffany corrected. ¡°Only Esmerelda gets away with that.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± Marianne said, resisting the eye-roll. ¡°Tiffany, what¡¯s going on? I need to get back and keep an eye on the new girl¨Cfirst day and all, ya know?¡± Tiffany¡¯s brow almost pinched, but the alchemics kept the facial muscles still. It was always unsettling, seeing the placid marble like faces. But it kept the wrinkles away, and some of the men liked it. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m here,¡± Tiffany said. ¡°How the new girl doing?¡± ¡°Why do you¨C¡± Tiffany held up her hand. ¡°-Madame wanted to know.¡± Ah. Ma. ¡°Well, she¡¯s doing alright so far,¡± Marianne explained. ¡°Any¡­ issues?¡± Tiffany asked. ¡°Can¡¯t Ma just see that through her little mirrors?¡± Marianne asked. Tiffany¡¯s face trembled again, the muscles fighting against the paralyzing agents. ¡°...they don¡¯t carry sound. And she wanted a second opinion.¡± Marianne almost believed that. But, at the end of the day, Marianne decided it was best just to go along with it. If Tiffany got too out of hand, there was always Esmerelda. ¡°No hiccups,¡± Marianne said. ¡°Though Jackie, she¡¯s still working on feigning a good mood.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± Tiffany asked, honing in on the only issue there was, and probably planning to make a big deal out of it. ¡°It¡¯s pretty minor¡­¡± Marianne said, hoping Tiffany would let it drop. ¡°What. Do. You. Mean.¡± Tiffany bit out each word, absolutely refusing to let it drop. ¡°Argh,¡± Marianne groaned. ¡°Alright. So you know how most of the girls have to learn how to put up with¡­ well¡­ men?¡± ¡°...no.¡± Tiffany must have lied. ¡°You mean you like working with drunkards?¡± Marianne asked, letting her skepticism leak through her voice. Tiffany might be the senior of the two, but that did not mean Marianne had to roll over for whatever Tiffany said. ¡°There are plenty of men that rise above that base state,¡± Tiffany sniffed. She had crossed her arms. From her twitching face, it was obvious the woman wanted to frown. ¡°Right,¡± Marianne said, nodding along. ¡°But in the tavern¨C¡± ¡°-No,¡± Tiffany interrupted. ¡°Those were the baron¡¯s men.¡± ¡°So?¡± Marianne asked. ¡°Some would say that¡¯s worse than the usual.¡± Tiffany made a sound of disgust, almost guttural. ¡°They are better than the normal drivel you serve.¡± ¡°...right¡­¡± Marianne said slowly. ¡°But it¡¯s Jackie¡¯s first day.¡± ¡°Whatever,¡± Tiffany snorted. ¡°I¡¯m not going to argue with some pre-pubescent girl! Just, keep a watch on her!¡± Marianne was not pre-pubescent! ¡°Or what?!¡± Marianne mocked the older woman, maybe losing her temper a tad. ¡°You don¡¯t want to find out,¡± Tiffany uttered quietly, a vein in her neck rising to the surface, her skin reddening. They both stared at each other for sometime, before Marianne realized that she may have overstepped a tad. Taking a deep breath, Marianne nodded, deciding to de-escalate before she lost her job. ¡°Alright,¡± Marianne agreed. ¡°I¡¯ll keep my eyes open.¡± After another few seconds, Tiffany let out a deep breath. ¡°Thank you,¡± Tiffany said. Another awkward moment of silence passed, before they both excused themselves. As Marianne returned to the tavern, Jackie glanced her way and made to break away from the table of peacekeepers. But as Jackie returned to the bar, one of the peacekeepers reached out and made to grab Jackie¡¯s wrist. Since the peacekeepers were Marked with at the very least a low grade physical advancement, they were faster and stronger than most, and it showed when his hand darted forward. Marianne winced, already forming a reason to intervene without making an enemy of the baron¡¯s men. She was sure the man would yank Jackie back, maybe onto his lap. If Marianne failed to arrive in time, the man might even dare to fondle the barmaid. If Marianne had hackles, they would have been raised. She loathed them and felt her blood boil. But before she even made more than a few paces, Jackie reacted, quicker than an enhanced pit-cat. Because, even though Jackie had her back turned, and even though the man was Marked, she reacted. Jackie swiveled, half spinning on the ball of one foot, before continuing on towards the bar. It looked graceful, almost like a dancer. The man was left staring dumbly at his hand, while the others laughed at him. Marianne paused her step, holding her breath, waiting to see the men¡¯s reactions. ¡°She¡¯s got moves!¡± ¡°Aye¨Clook at that!¡± ¡°-wonder if she¡¯d be up to some fun later¨C?¡± ¡°-shut it!¡± The one that did the reaching complained, turning back to his table, grumbling, ¡°-new girl doesn¡¯t know her place yet¡­¡± Marianne let out a sigh in relief, tension draining. That could have ended up very bad. Soon after, Jackie and Marianne met behind the bar, with the anonymity of their backs turned to the tavern, and the din of the crowd. ¡°Do they come here often?¡± Jackie asked. Marianne knew who she referred to. Marianne shook her head and explained some of the business on the Hill, at least as far as Marianne saw it. Granted, she was somewhat of a newcomer herself, and her duties seldom lent her much freetime. ¡°Every once in a while, but normally they stick to the other side, and normally Ma has a deal set with them.¡± ¡°Other¡­ Side?¡± Jackie asked at the euphemism. Marianne realized that the euphemism might have been poor, because there was a literal otherside of the house, opposite across the kitchens from the tavern. But that was not the side of Ma¡¯Ritz that she was referring to. ¡°The night-work side,¡± Marianne said in a lower voice. ¡°They have some deals in place, so it¡¯s not so frequent. But they do get some of the lower tiered services.¡± ¡°Ah¡­ I suppose I¡¯ll be learning about that?¡± Jackie asked, seemingly tensed at her own question. Marianne paused, wondering if there was a miscommunication. Because she knew that Jackie had already been informed that there would be none of that night-work for the two bar-maids. They were both too young, and Esmerelda would throw a fit. ¡°Noooo?¡± Marianne answered cautiously. ¡°I mean, not unless you want to? Nobody¡¯s gonna make you learn, though you might pick some stuff up, just by living and working here.¡± Jackie¡¯s shoulders sagged. ¡°Good.¡± Marianne agreed. The peacekeepers eventually left, though they stiffed. The evening crowd picked up, with a familiar duo of mercs coming up and claiming a table by the bar. Marianne even knew their names. They were pretty solid tippers, friendly, and appreciative of quick pours. Marianne decided to do Jackie a solid and give her the table. ¡°Recognize them?¡± Marianne elbowed Jackie as the duo entered. Jackie frowned at them for a bit, before shaking her head. Marianne rolled her eyes and groaned, ¡°Really? I suppose you did drink a bunch that night.¡± ¡°Wait, is he¨C¡± she pointed at the hefty looking man ¡°-the one that left me with a bill?¡± ¡°What? No! They were the ones you had a drinking contest with. Seriously?¡± Jackie shrugged, but there might have been something of a smirk there. ¡°So?¡± Marianne asked. The duo waved towards the bar, calling for attendance. ¡°So what?¡± Jackie responded. ¡°You want to take them or what?¡± Jackie paused, a complicated expression on her face. ¡°Is that¡­ wise?¡± ¡°Pfffft, why not? They¡¯re fun regulars. You¡¯re gonna get used to seeing them sooner or later.¡± ¡°Alright¡­¡± Jackie responded with some hesitation. Later that night, the tavern was crowded as usual, with Marianne scurrying back and forth like the overworked barmaid she was, complaining about the fact that Esmerelda had abandoned the post for better pastures. Cook was scowling, like usual, shouting at her own underlings¨Cher kitchen served two sides of the restaurant afterall. And everything became so much worse when Marianne heard Jackie shout. Marianne glanced over quickly enough to see Jackie twisting a man¡¯s hand around, spraining his wrist. Marianne winced. She kept forgetting that Jackie was Marked. ¡°This won¡¯t turn out well,¡± Marianne said, finishing pouring a drink and passing it across the bar. It had been too busy for her to really check up on Jackie, but Jackie had been working the tables well enough while Marianne handled the bar. There was a light sheen of sweat on her forehead, and her blue-tinted hair stuck to her skin. She felt gross, the room smelled like spiced grease, and she eagerly anticipated closing for the night. But that was hours off still. And in the meanwhile, Jackie had apparently gotten dragged into some sort of scuffle. Just from the looks of it, Marianne assumed someone had made to grope her¨Can unfortunately common occurrence while passing through the tables. But where most barmaids would glide away from the unwanted affections, or twist and turn, or play it off, or just flat out ignore it, Jackie let the offense drive her. Both fortunately and unfortunately, Jackie had the means to strike back. And she did. In her grip, she twisted the man¡¯s arm until he fell from his chair, sending it clattering to the ground, while she grabbed his back and put him in a hold. His buddies stood up, another chair falling, this time against a nearby table, causing drinks to spill, and two more patrons to shout, rising from their seats. ¡°Gods,¡± Marianne cursed. She was not the only one to swear. ¡°Godslickin cunt!¡± the grabby man shouted. ¡°Let go!¡± Jackie hissed something into his ear, and jerked his arm up, further straining his shoulder. He gasped, and one of his buddies lunged across their table, knocking a half finished pitcher of ale across the ground. Jackie neatly sidestepped, angling the grabby man between her and his buddy. When that failed, the two buddies began coming around the table, flanking Jackie. Marianne felt uncertainty, not knowing how to proceed. She needed Esmerelda. But the marsh giant was working the otherside. In a panic, her eyes caught on the two thick mercs, the regulars, ironically both named ¡®Lou,¡¯ though Marianne was pretty sure there was some sort of nickname based off a joke there. Either way, Marianne caught the female Lou¡¯s eye, and Lou gave a quick smile and nod, before scooting her chair back and rising to her feet. She towered over the men. ¡°Oi!¡± Lou clapped. ¡°Enough of that! Let the fool go, and the rest of you, pay your tab ¡®n get out!¡± The man cursed, louder than before, and Jackie glanced towards Lou. Lou gestured for Jackie to let go. So Jackie did, but she gave one final twist and jerk as she pushed the man to the side. She stepped back as his friends helped him to his feet, with him sheltering his hurt wrist. ¡°What is wrong with you!¡± the man hissed. ¡°You think you can walk all over me? Over us? We¡¯re paying customers and¨C¡± Lou cracked her knuckles, and her partner, the other hefty merc, laughed and leapt to his feet. ¡°We gonna fight?¡± the male Loue asked, an anticipatory tone. ¡°Been a while since we had a good brawl. Ain¡¯t that right, Lou?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± she answered, ¡°But it would be a shame. Wouldn¡¯t, boys?¡± She asked the three men, her hand shifting towards her belt where several weapons hung. The men¡¯s eyes followed, and one of them gulped. ¡°-but!¡± the injured man started, but his friend nudged him and spoke over him. ¡°-Sure, we¡¯ll pay and leave. Who¡¯d want to stay where cunts like that¨C¡± he nodded towards Jackie ¡°-work. You can bet we¡¯ll be spreading the word about this too.¡± Lou scoffed. ¡°Yeah, you do that. Let all your other fool friends know to stop molesting poor barmaids.¡± The men¡¯s faces reddened, they sputtered, but in the end, they slammed the Chargers down on the table and stormed off. The Lou¡¯s watched the men leave, before the woman turned to Jackie. ¡°You alright girl?¡± the woman asked. Jackie¡¯s face was tight and narrow, and she seemed almost feral with her teeth showing, but she nodded and claimed she was fine. ¡°Sure,¡± the woman said. ¡°Best get back to work then, yeah?¡± The Lous both nodded and sat, and Marianne had to grab Jackie by the arm to drag her away. ¡°What was that?!¡± Marianne hissed to Jackie, once they were safely behind the bar. ¡°He grabbed¨C¡± Jackie started, but Marianne cut her off. ¡°-not that! I know he did! But you! You made a whole godslovin¡¯ scene!¡± Jackie glared, her canines seeming more pronounced than before. ¡°Should I have let him get away with it then?¡± ¡°No!¡± Marianne said. ¡°You should have avoided it altogether! And if you did get grabbed, you should have gotten back at him some other way.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t see his hand until it was too late,¡± Jackie explained, her face slackening slightly, her lips covering more of her teeth. ¡°But some other way?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Marianne said. ¡°We have something called a barmaid tax, we can¡¯t always apply it, of course, but in cases like with them?¡± she gestured to the now vacated table. ¡°Absolutely.¡± Jackie finished deflating. ¡°Motherswear it,¡± Jackie whispered under her breath. It sounded like it was supposed to be a curse, but Marianne failed to recognize the term. ¡°Well, what¡¯s done is done,¡± Marianne said. ¡°Best get it cleaned up, yeah? We¡¯ll be hearing about this later. ¡°New girl making friends?¡± Esmerelda asked crossly. The end of the night had come, and Marianne had been walking Jackie through the process, sweeping the floors, raising the chairs, and moving perishables to the cold-chests. While Jackie was still sweeping, Esmerelda had pulled Marianne aside. ¡°Ha, that¡¯s one way to put it,¡± Marianne said. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say it was the guy didn¡¯t deserve it, but I didn¡¯t think she¡¯d react that way.¡± ¡°What even happened?¡± Esmerelda asked. She had already gotten the basic picture, it would have been obvious from anyone experienced, but she wanted the details. So, Marianne had walked her through it, putting Jackie in the best light possible. In the end, Esmerelda¡¯s hand was clenched in a fist. ¡°Some people,¡± she growled, before shaking her head. ¡°Was Jackie alright?¡± Marianne nodded, ¡°Yeah, she seemed composed after a bit. She really showed him up though, you shoulda seen it!¡± Despite Marianne¡¯s attempts to lighten the mood, and thus, the punishment, Esmerelda grimaced. ¡°It shouldn¡¯t have ever happened in the first place,¡± Esmerelda said. ¡°But, what¡¯s done is done. I¡¯ll talk to Ma about it. Let¡¯s hope nothing comes of it.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s hope,¡± Marianne said, already thinking about the trouble this could cause. Not only could the men hold a grudge, but Ma could always fire Jackie. And what was worse, since it had been Marianne responsible for training Jackie, it could reflect onto Marianne as well! She knew she could not afford any lost wages. Life was too expensive, not including all the other things she needed ¡°Just¨C¡± Esmerelda waved at the tavern ¡°-finish closing. And show Jackie how to disengage without embarrassing our clientele. Or risking her body, preferably.¡± Marianne sighed, ¡°Alright, but this isn¡¯t my fault.¡± Esmerelda snorted and left, ¡°Course it¡¯s not,¡± she called over her shoulder. ¡°But if you don¡¯t get her trained up right from here on out, it just might be.¡± Absorption 2.1.X.3 Marianne paced back and forth across their shared chambers. They had retired for the night after closing the tavern, and Marianne was really letting Jackie have it. The purple haired girl must have had something wrong with her head, because she just was not understanding. It vexed Marianne! Taking another breath, she tried again, spinning to face where Jackie sat on the bed. ¡°I¡¯m supposed to be training you, right?¡± Marianne asked. Jackie¡¯s face twitched. Was she trying to avoid laughing? What did that twitch mean?! Marianne scowled. ¡°This is serious!¡± ¡°I never said it wasn¡¯t,¡± Jackie replied, as if she had done nothing wrong. ¡°Then why aren¡¯t you listening?¡± Marianne crossed her arms over her chest and tried her best to loom over the other girl. But Marianne was short. Of course, Jackie was short too, and Jackie was sitting down, so Marianne still managed to get some loomage in, but not nearly enough. ¡°I am?¡± Jackie said, feigning confusion. Or maybe she really was confused? ¡°Are you?¡± Marianne asked. ¡°I literally can¡¯t tell.¡± ¡°I am,¡± Jackie reaffirmed. ¡°Well alright! Then pay attention, because this is monumentally important.¡± Marianne paused and waited to make sure Jackie was attentive. When Jackie nodded, Marianne dove into the crus of the matter. ¡°Do. Not. Strike. Customers! It¡¯s basically lesson number one! It shouldn¡¯t even hafta be one! Just don¡¯t do it. Not ever!¡± Jackie¡¯s lips parted, as though she were about to speak, but Marianne kept going, not wanting to lose her steam. ¡°Make them feel wanted! We need customers to make Cee! No customers, no job, no food, no tuition, no nothing! Got that? They need to enjoy their time here, and that means being friendly. Smiling! Gods, it¡¯s like you¡¯ve never dealt with patrons before! Do you even know how the service industry works?¡± Jackie almost snarled but managed to mostly hold it in. ¡°Oh, I know,¡± she said. ¡°Do you? Because you didn¡¯t act like it tonight.¡± A moment of silence passed, and Jackie appeared bothered, maybe even remorseful. Marianne decided to let it all soak in, and hopefully teach Jackie a valuable lesson. Unfortunately, the marination failed to take, at least not completely. ¡°Look,¡± Jackie said in a hushed tone. ¡°What is the real problem here?¡± ¡°What?¡± Marianne hissed. ¡°I just told you! You embarrassed patrons! Now they¡¯re gonna badmouth the place, and make us look bad! You think people will wanna eat and drink here after that?¡± This girl! She was going to cost Marianne her job, because she was too dense to understand the simplest of instructions. Marianne threw her hands up and moaned in exasperation. ¡°I can¡¯t. Just cannot.¡± Marianne deflated and sat down on her own bed, opposite to Jackie. ¡°I understand where you¡¯re coming from, but do you know where I¡¯m coming from?¡± Jackie asked. Marianne looked up from where she was glowering at the floor. ¡°What difference would that make?¡± ¡°Perspective. Compromise?¡± Jackie rocked left and right in a wiggle, before adding, ¡°Just hear me out?¡± Marianne thought about diving back into another rant, but the last few had done a whole lot of nothing, and her voice felt somewhat strained. So, despite her better judgment, Marianne nodded. Just one nod, though. Jackie¡¯s shoulders relaxed slightly. ¡°Alright, thanks.¡± ¡°Go on then,¡± Marianne said, trying to hurry it up, and possibly transfer some of the strain that she felt over to Jackie. It would only be fair. Jackie was not nearly stressed enough. ¡°Right. Well. I think things aren¡¯t as dire as you do,¡± Jackie said. Marianne¡¯s jaw dropped. This girl! ¡°What? Why would you say that?¡± Marianne demanded, attempting to calm herself, but having a difficult time doing so. ¡°You emasculated a patron! And yeah, he deserved it. But that¡¯s just not done!¡± ¡°He deserved it and more,¡± Jackie said, her voice low and dangerous, almost a growl. ¡°But the real problem that we¡¯re facing here, isn¡¯t that I defended myself, but that those idiots have leverage over us.¡± This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°What does that even mean?!¡± Marianne cried. ¡°Do you not like having a job? Because that¡¯s the only leverage I can see here.¡± ¡°Those men are not our employers,¡± Jackie stated the fact as though it were somehow profound. ¡°Of course not!¡± Marianne seethed. ¡°Do you actually think Ma won¡¯t drop us for ruining her reputation?¡± ¡°You think she would?¡± Jackie asked, a flicker of concern upon her face. It looked like Marianne was finally getting through to the girl. ¡°Yes!¡± Marianne exclaimed. ¡°If we cost her her business? Yeah, I think she will. Don¡¯t you?¡± Marianne genuinely wanted to know just how disconnected Jackie was from how actual life worked. But, maybe it was possible that Jackie was just ignorant about hospitality? It seemed like common sense though, and even Marianne had come into the business knowing that much. Jackie nodded her head, then rubbed above and backwards of her temples. A curious place to ease tension. Another curiosity to the list, Marianne supposed. But then, Jackie spoke, and once again Marianne knew frustration. ¡°You mentioned reputation earlier,¡± Jackie said. ¡°I want to point out that there¡¯s an assumption at play here.¡± Marianne groaned. ¡°What now? What¡¯s this assumption then?¡± ¡°It¡¯s that the men can hurt Ma¡¯Ritz¡¯s reputation,¡± Jackie said. ¡°That¡¯s the leverage the men have, right? At least what you¡¯re saying?¡± Marianne found herself contemplating Jackie¡¯s words. Was that an assumption? Marianne had thought it to be an obvious fact. But maybe there was something Marianne was missing. ¡°I¡¯m sure that they can hurt our reputation. That¡¯s obvious, right¡­ ?¡± Marianne trailed off, wondering what Jackie was angling at. Was it some sort of trick, or trap? Because that was what it felt like to Marianne. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m not so sure about that,¡± Jackie said. The edge of her lip was trembling. What did Jackie know, that Marianne did not? ¡°Explain then.¡± ¡°Let me ask you this,¡± Jackie said. ¡°Does Ma want to be known for letting her girls get molested without consent nor payment?¡± So that was it. The trap which Jackie had laid. ¡°No. Of course she doesn¡¯t. Don¡¯t be foolish.¡± Marianne let loose a disgusted scoff. ¡°Exactly!¡± Jackie said. ¡°Then what¡¯s the problem?¡± ¡°What¡¯s the problem? What¡¯s the problem?!¡± Marianne hissed. ¡°There are other ways! Better ways! More, more graceful ways! What would your mother say?¡± Jackie¡¯s reaction was instantaneous and surprising. Her face fell completely flat and she shrunk in upon herself. Marianne figured she was on the right track in drilling the lesson into the girl¡¯s thick head. Marianne tried following the breathing exercises that Esmerelda had taught, but it was to limited effect. After the attempt at cooling off, Marianne decided to try de-escalating. ¡°Look,¡± Marianne said. ¡°I get it that you can fight. That¡¯s great. But that¡¯s not the only way to resolve problems. There¡¯s charm! I don¡¯t wanna be mean, but I cannot afford to lose this job.¡± Jackie remained silent for a while longer. Marianne considered speaking once more, but just as Marianne took a breath to speak, Jackie spoke. ¡°What should I have done differently then?¡± Jackie asked. Now, now they were getting somewhere! But where to start, Marianne wondered. She wanted to reward Jackie for finally seeing reason, and so Marianne decided to throw the other girl a bone. ¡°Certainly not letting them get away with it for free!¡± Marianne said. ¡°Though the best way to deal with that sort of situation is to keep it from happening in the first place.¡± ¡°Unfortunately,¡± Jackie began, her voice trembling slightly. ¡°I was unable to avoid it¨CI wasn¡¯t even aware before his hand grabbed my¨C¡± Marianne hushed her. ¡°-no need to explain,¡± Marianne said. ¡°But in that case, instead of lashing out with violence, we have a couple of other ways to handle it. The easiest would be to get Esmerelda to deal with it.¡± ¡°She¡¯s the bouncer then?¡± Jackie asked, using an unfamiliar word. ¡°Maybe?¡± Marianne asked. ¡°I¡¯m not familiar with the term. But another way would have been to get help. And then there¡¯s the barmaid¡¯s tax, which you could have applied.¡± ¡°Right¡­ ¡° Jackie worked her lips a bit before figuring out a way to voice whatever was bothering her. ¡°But the barmaid¡¯s tax is a fiscal punishment, almost a payment. It feels a little like selling our bodies.¡± Marianne grimaced. That was the wrong way to think about it. It was such a horrific line of thoughts. So much of their business was based on proximity to pretty bar-maids. Was that selling their bodies? Maybe¡­ but Marianne did not want to think about it. ¡°No,¡± Marianne said flatly. ¡°The tax is reparations for injuries done. Nothing more.¡± Jackie remained silent a bit longer, before nodding. Finally. Finally! Marianne thought. ¡°I¡¯ll do better,¡± Jackie said. That was good. Very good. But after such a draining almost argument, with such high tensions, Marianne needed something a bit more to feel the disagreement had been resolved. So, after watching Jackie carefully, Marianne pressed for details. ¡°How?¡± Marianne asked. ¡°How will you do better?¡± ¡°To start with,¡± Jackie said. ¡°I won¡¯t leave myself exposed on the floor to grabby perverts.¡± Her voice ended with an angry tone. ¡°Good¡­¡± Marianee said, and then hesitated a second. She had already gotten enough. But, she needed to know. They had to have a contingency. Because life never went as planned, Marianne had learned that well enough, and she would be a fool to forget that lesson now. After licking her lips, Marianne asked, ¡°But if by chance, someone does manage to grope you? Gods forbid, but if it does happen?¡± Jackie grit her teeth, speaking in a low, almost inaudible tone. ¡°Then I¡¯ll get Esmerelda,¡± Jackie agreed. Marianne let out a heavy sigh of relief, sagging into her bed. It was done. Handled. Jackie had agreed. ¡°Get some sleep then,¡± Marianne said, already closing her eyes. ¡°It all starts again tomorrow.¡± Absorption 2.1.X.4 Weightless. The world around her refused understanding. Her actions would be meaningless. Chaos. Fear. The scent of urine and sweat. She heard screaming. There were flashes and pops and then burning garments and roasted flesh. Madness, all around her. ¡°Mamma!¡± a young girl screamed, blood trickling from her blue scalp. The girl was stumbling along a gray stone road, confused. A heavy hand fell on her shoulder, dragging her along, away from the screams. ¡°Maaamaaa!¡± The girl cried, hardly able to resist the force pulling her along. The world around her was blurring, too confusing, but with enough focus, she could see her mother¡¯s face at least once again. She strained. There. She heard her mother¡¯s voice bellowing. ¡°Mari!¡± a giant of a woman bellowed, followed by her war cry. She remained by the wagons, drawing attention to herself. ¡°Get her away! Go¨C!¡± Another flash. Another pop. Mariane jerked up from her mattress. Cloying wet sheets tangled her, trapping her, giving her a moment of gasping panic, before she realized she had woken up where she had fallen asleep. A nightmare then. A nastier variation of it, one that gave her hope of at least seeing her mother¡¯s face once more. in a dead sweat. She hated it. She hated it. She hated¨C She slapped her cheeks, centering herself. She recalled the advice Esmerelda had given her. ¡°Focus on what I can do, not what happened,¡± Marianne told herself, as though speaking it aloud made it a little more true. After a few more pep talks, Marianne hyped herself up enough to start the day with a smile on her face. It started false, as it did every morning, but by the time she had wiped herself down and replaced her bedding, she was roaring to go. Naturally, her first order of business was waking Jackie. Marianne examined the other girl from where she slept oddly, with her butt in the air and her face cocked to the side. Such a strange posture. Marianne nudged her several times before Jackie¡¯s eyes opened blearily. ¡°Wwhaaat?¡± Jackie complained. ¡°Jackie!¡± Marianne called with cheer that she only had to force a little bit. ¡°It¡¯s time to wake up if we want the bathes to ourselves.¡± ¡°...no¡­¡± Jackie responded with eloquence. Marianne giggled and rolled her eyes. ¡°How you ever survived traveling with this slothfulness, I¡¯ll never know.¡± Jackie made an odd huffing sound. ¡°Ch. Sleep debt, and the¨C¡± she yawned ¡°-the debtors coming to haul me off.¡± ¡°W-what?¡± Marianne asked, confused. ¡°That made no sense.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve never heard of sleep debt?¡± Jackie asked, opening her eyes wider. Marianne shook her head. ¡°Huh,¡± Jackie said, before slowly shutting her eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll explain it later. Like, in an hour.¡± ¡°Half an hour,¡± Marianne bartered, ¡°Any later than that, and we won¡¯t get baths. Everyone else has priority.¡± Jackie groaned. ¡°Just take one on your own then.¡± Marianne narrowed her eyes. So it would be like that then? ¡°Twenty minutes,¡± Marianne said, cutting ten minutes off. ¡°I¡¯ll be waking you up then. And much more vigorously. Just you wait.¡± Jackie groaned, ¡°fine¡­¡± as she rolled over, facing towards the wall. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Marianne then proceeded to do her stretches and lunges, followed up with a few of the slow and dextrous dance moves her father had taught her as a child. They were meant to serve as both calisthenics and a means of bettering one¡¯s motions with grace. At some point during her exercises, Jackie had turned around, and her eyes were open, watching Marianne exercise. Marianne startled when she noticed Jackie watching, especially as it was the same second that Jackie had spoken. ¡°Graceful,¡± Jackie said, almost approvingly. Marianne¡¯s cheeks warmed slightly in embarrassment. Some of the moves were a bit more revealing than she was comfortable showing. Still, at least the other girl was awake. She cleared her throat. ¡°Ready to wake your lazy self up outta bed?¡± Marianne asked. ¡°Might as well,¡± Jackie said, tumbling from her bed and landing in a crouch. ¡°Now that was graceful,¡± Marianne said, feeling a twinge of jealousy for Jackie¡¯s Marks. When Marianne had finally managed to drag Jackie into the vanity chambers, she inhaled sharply, smelling the sour scent of citrus soaps on humid air. Someone was already there, taking up one of the three baths, and it was someone that Marianne knew far too well. Unfortunate, that. It was one of Cook¡¯s assistants, a human girl named Anne. Also known as Little Anne, to the girl¡¯s ire, and Marianne¡¯s amusement. With Jackie pressing in behind her, Marianne was forced to fully enter the chambers, drawing Anne¡¯s attention from where the girl bathed.¡° Oi,¡± Anne called. ¡°Shut the door, you¡¯re lettin¡¯ the heat out¡­ that you Mari? And who¡¯s wit¡¯ ya? The new girl then?¡± As Jackie stepped in and shut the door behind her, Anne¡¯s eyes lingered on Jackie¡¯s deviation. Marianne winced. That was monstrously rude of Anne, but then, it was Anne. There was a reason the girl was kept to the kitchens, and it was not her lack of beauty. ¡°Yes, Anne,¡± Marianne replied, starting to get her soaps and tub set. ¡°And her name¡¯s Jackie.¡± ¡°Uh-huh,¡± Anne said, beginning to scrub her legs in a rather lewd fashion. ¡°So, what¡¯s with the arm?¡± ¡°Little Anne!¡± Marianne snapped. ¡°You can¡¯t just ask someone that! It¡¯s rude!¡± ¡°What¡¯s rude is that nickname,¡± Anne scoffed. ¡°Besides, it doesn¡¯t even make sense. I¡¯m bigger than Cook is! And she doesn¡¯t even go by her name!¡± ¡°Maybe the ¡®little¡¯ isn¡¯t a reference to your height?¡± Marianne scoffed. Jackie watched on, with a bemused expression and a cant of a head. ¡°Can you please knock it off?¡± Anne said, while threatening to splash Marianne with stained tub water. ¡°Well,¡± Marianne said, ignoring the threat. What was a bit more water while bathing. ¡°I might stop calling you that, but it depends on if you¡¯re gonna keep asking rude questions!¡± ¡°What? It was a harmless question,¡± Anne argued. ¡°All I wanted to know was what that arm could do! No harm in asking. It¡¯s a healthy interest.¡± ¡°Healthy?!¡± Marianne scoffed, turning her back as best she could to Anne. The three tubs were lined side by side, so it was only partially successful. Marianne found some success in focusing on exfoliation, rather than the rude assistant cook. ¡°...none of her business¡­¡± Marianne grumbled as she scrubbed. ¡°Hey!¡± Anne called to Jackie, who bathed on the far side of Marianne. ¡°I figure I got a right to know, since we¡¯re coworkers an¡¯ all. Won¡¯t you tell me what that arm does? Was the ability worth it?¡± ¡°I feel this is more curious than necessary for coworkers,¡± Jackie said, weighing in. It would make sense that Jackie would keep her abilities close to her chest; gods, Jackie had yet to reveal her abilities to Marianne, and they were roommates. ¡°Yeah¡­ Jackie¡¯s right,¡± Marianne said, still trying to avoid facing Anne so much as possible. ¡°You¡¯re in the kitchen, so it shouldn¡¯t matter.¡± Water moved from behind her, and for a second, Marianne thought her hair might get wet. It was a rest day for her hair, at least it ought to have been. Marianne glanced over her shoulder, and found Anne had relaxed back into her tub, almost blowing bubbles. Marianne breathed out in relief. ¡°I might need to find a better pair of gloves,¡± Jackie said, thinking out loud. ¡°Will patrons be disturbed by the sight of my arm? I wouldn¡¯t want to insight¡­ more drama.¡± ¡°No,¡± Marianne said, a bit too quickly. After Jackie arched her brow, Marianne quickly added, ¡°Well, maybe some of them. It¡¯s rude though, and they should know better about minding their manners!¡± ¡°Hey, not a bad idea new girl!¡± Anne said. ¡°But then again, some weirdos tend to like that kinda stuff, so who knows, yeah?¡± ¡°Gods take you, Anne!¡± Marianne swore, horrified. ¡°Ha!¡± Anne said, sticking her tongue out. ¡°Whatchya gonna do ¡®bout it?¡± Anne taunted. Before Marianne really let the kitchen help have it, Jackie intervened. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Jackie said. ¡°I need to plan for this, if it¡¯s the sort of attention I¡¯ll receive. Are such body modifications common?¡± ¡°Ehhh¡­¡± Anne waggeled her hand around. ¡°Somewhat. Moreso in the Pits. But now that you an¡¯ I are talkin¡¯ directly, what¡¯s it do? Your arm?¡± Marianne wanted to speak for Jackie once again, but decided instead to focus on rinsing off the soap, all to more quickly leave the baths, since it was clear Anne was outstaying her visit. ¡°Oh, you know, the usual,¡± Jackie grinned. ¡°But it¡¯s interesting you didn¡¯t ask me about my Marks first¡­¡± ¡°You¡¯re Marked too?!¡± Anne shrieked, slapping her hand down on the water. ¡°I figured you just had some dirty enhancements. What¡¯re you doing working here? Could be a merc, or really anything else. Unless the Marks are bad? I mean, you do got a deviation there¨C¡± ¡°Anne!¡± Absorption 2.1.X.5 One of the foreman crews from the Pit side came in. While they were hardly regulars, Marianne recognized them all the same. There were only so many ¡®foremen¡¯ in the Pits, and there were even fewer that spent their hoards on the Hill. Most of them kept to the slums, where their Cee stretched further. Jackie had already grabbed the menus and had begun to step towards them, when Marianne intereceded. ¡°I¡¯ll take the table,¡± Marianne said. ¡°Why?¡± Jackie asked, a bit suspiciously. ¡°Well¡­¡± Marianne said awkwardly, looking for a good reason, other than the actual reason, of course. ¡°I know them.¡± Jackie glanced towards the men, with their gaudy but cheaply made garments, and then towards Marianne, with a skeptical face. ¡°You know, you¡¯ve been acting strange since you disappeared earlier today.¡± ¡°Eh-heh¡­¡± Marianne forced a chuckle. She still had yet to find a good way to break the news to Jackie. Oh, Marianne totally would do so, she just hoped to find the right time to do it. ¡°So?¡± Jackie asked. ¡°What¡¯s going on.¡± ¡°Can I tell you later?¡± Marianne asked. ¡°You¡¯d better,¡± Jackie said, handing the stack of menus to Marianne. ¡°I will, promise!¡± Marianne said. ¡°And thanks!¡± she added as she hurried over towards the foremen. After serving the men their drinks and taking their orders, Marianne nodded to one of the younger foremen that she had the best rapport with. When she was sure she had his attention, she nodded towards the entrance hall, where shadows abounded for private conversations. At least, if anything was ever private in Ma¡¯Ritz in the first place. ¡°Yeah, Mari girl?¡± Looming in, smelling of oil and blood, with a smattering of smoke and stale drink worked in. Marianne leaned in, coming much too close to the source of smell for her tastes. ¡°Any new blood?¡± she asked. Marianne felt sick just asking. ¡°Plenty.¡± Her spirits lifted in hope. ¡°From the North?¡± ¡°Eh? Well, maybe, not that I saw¨C¡± ¡°-Giants? Elves?¡± ¡°Ah. You still on about them? Nah, Not seen any of ¡®em. Why you on about those particular races. You don¡¯t strike me as the type to buy, an¡¯ I know you don¡¯t need help findin¡¯ pleasure.¡± ¡°My reasons are my own,¡± Marianne said, leaning away from him before his arms encircled her. ¡°I need to get back to work.¡± ¡°But we just got out here!¡± When Marianne returned to the tavern, she found a surprise. Tiffany was leaning over the table, pouring another round of ales from a hefty pitcher. A completely unnecessary move, except it allowed the men to see her cleavage. Which was odd¨CTiffany was not working in the tavern, she never had, at least as long as Marianne had known her. Forcing a smile upon her face, Marianne approached both the table and Tiffany. ¡°Everything alright here?¡± Marianne asked. Tiffany laughed, a feminine tinkle with just the right amount of husk. ¡°Oh, we¡¯re fine here, aren¡¯t we boys!¡± ¡°I¡¯m surprised to see you down here! What¡¯s the special occasion?¡± ¡°I just happened by and saw these fine men suffering thirst, and thought I¡¯d step in.¡± Tiffany affected a fearful frown. ¡°That¡¯s alright, isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Course it is, beautiful! This lil tease was just off doing that, teasin¡¯ me,¡± the man grumbled as he reclaimed his seat. ¡°That right?¡± Tiffany asked. ¡°Well, Marianne¡¯s a bit young to know how to treat a man right. Why don¡¯t you swing by later?¡± she pushed her bust out slightly. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± the man said, licking his lips, ¡°I just might do that.¡± Marianne hurried away from the table, having to pretend that she had more work to do. It would be a bad look to gag. As Marianne reached the bar, Jackie met her. ¡°So?¡± ¡°Hm?¡± ¡°Why¡¯re you acting off? Should I be looking for another job?¡± ¡°What? No!¡± Marianne assured, then hurried to finish, ¡°There isn¡¯t enough work in the mornings for us both to handle the tavern, and closing is a one woman job, so Ma was planning on giving you different duties.¡± ¡°Like?¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± Marianne led off. ¡°I¡¯m not exactly sure? But I think either she or Esmerelda will come pick you up some time after the rush ends.¡± ¡°Ok. But why is that causing this tension?¡± ¡°Because it¡¯s dangerous!¡± Marianne hissed. ¡°What if they make you fight? Or¡­ do gross stuff?¡± ¡°Huh.¡± Jackie narrowed her eyes. ¡°I guess we¡¯ll have to wait and see¡­¡± As the evening slowed down, with more patrons leaving than coming, Marianne began shooting furtive glances towards the new girl. It was stressful! Marianne could hardly stand the wait. Just what would Ma send Jackie off to do, would it be dangerous, and would Marianne see the other girl again? And how beneath all the gods¡¯ gazes was Jackie so calm?! It came as something of a relief when Esmerelda entered the tavern and moved towards Jackie. Marianne dropped the order she was taking and moved her way over to intercept both of them. Jackie had just finished carrying an order out and had been returning to the server station, making it easy for Esmerelda to pull her aside. Marianne arrived just after Esmerelda. ¡°Room and board will still be covered?¡± Jackie asked, unprompted. It appeared that Jackie wanted to get in front of the conversation by asking what was probably the more important question. ¡°Of course,¡± Esmerelda said. ¡°Same deal as before. Just¡­ different work,¡± she finished answering in a carefully guarded and neutral tone. Marianne winced. From the tone in Esmerelda¡¯s voice, it was clear that the work was worrisome. Otherwise, Esmerelda would have sounded positive or stern. ¡°And the nature of this work?¡± Jackie asked, apparently undaunted. Esmerelda glanced around at the tavern, frowned at Marianne, then scoffed and shook her head. ¡°There are better places to cover the details of it, but the duties will be a mix of barmaid and guard. During the tavern¡¯s busy hours, you¡¯ll be here helping Marianne. Then in the later hours, or into the night, you¡¯ll be helping to guard the building.¡± ¡°Oh!¡± Marianne exclaimed, clapping her hands over her mouth. ¡°Don¡¯t you have duties?¡± Esmerelda asked Marianne. ¡°Uhmm yes. Definitely!¡± Marianne blushed. ¡°But I needed to, uhhh, come and make sure Jackie knew I would cover her tables, and figure out if any instructions were outstanding for any of her tables.¡± Marianne patted herself on the back, figuratively, for coming up with a legitimate reason to stop by and listen in. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°Uh-huh,¡± Esmerelda said. She turned back to Jackie. ¡°Anything you need to share before handing over your tables?¡± Jackie narrowed her eyes slightly as she slowly shook her head, as though considering. ¡°No,¡± she answered carefully. ¡°Just ensure to check their drink orders. One of them is running low.¡± ¡°Right. Back at it then,¡± Esmerelda said, once again shooing Marianne off that day. Soon after, both Esmerelda and Jackie left the Tavern, heading out the back. That night, Marianne closed the tavern alone. It was lonely work, which made it slow work. At least it seemed that way. In reality, it only took a little longer to finish mopping the floors and wiping up the glassware. In reality, Jackie had only helped close the tavern that one time. But still¡­ now that Marianne knew what having companionship was like¨Cthe absence was all the worse for it. Soon after finishing her work, Marianne retired for the evening, too exhausted to do much besides change to her nightclothes. Throughout the night, she had seen scant sight of Jackie. Though, Marianne often barely saw Esmerelda either. She hoped the other girl was staying safe, and staying out of Ma¡¯s night business. It might seem lucrative, it might seem easy, but there was a hidden cost there for the girls Ma employed. She really wished someone would have told her just what Jackie would be doing! She groaned into her pillow, attempting to excise her anxiety. The exercise helped marginally, but not enough to actually fall asleep. Just, why was Jackie not back yet, and what was she being forced to do? Marianne built scenarios in her mind, each one worse than the last. That was why, when a distraction came, it brought relief. Even though that distraction came from questionable voices on the street below. As her quarters were on the third floor, and as the shutters were only partially opened, the words were difficult to parse. In fact, if not for her father¡¯s blood, she would have failed altogether. But Marianne¡¯s ears were sharp. She strained them and she listened. She thought she might have recognized one of them, a man. No, strike that, she definitely recognized the bastard. ¡°-all we¡¯re saying, lass, is give us our honest due for our honest work.¡± It was one of the peacekeepers, one of the baron¡¯s soldiers that maintained order on the Hill. More than that, the man was part of the group that had come in the day previous, that had made something of a scene as they harassed Jackie, the new girl. Remembering that caused Marianne to grit her teeth. What were they doing here, Marianne wondered. ¡°You want me to pay you?¡± A woman spoke in a soft voice, though still managing to sound scandalized. The speaker sounded almost like Jackie, but what would Jackie be doing out there on the street, and why would the peacekeepers be bothering her again? As Marianne wondered these things, Jackie scoffed with clear contempt and finished her thought. ¡°Normally that would be preceded by an actual service rendered. What have you done for me?¡± Marianne hurried to the window to peer out and perhaps listen in a bit better. Why was Jackie out there, and why were the peacekeepers attempting to collect a bribery from her? None of it made sense. Marianne briefly considered running to get Esmerelda to help Jackie, just in case the situation grew violent. But Esmerelda was working. And Marianne wanted nothing to do with that type of work. It was gross. Besides, Jackie could fend for herself. Marianne hoped. ¡°Lass,¡± the speaker¡¯s voice took on a note of irritation. ¡°That is not an option. The services were already rendered.¡± ¡°Yeah!¡± one of the other men added, sounding mockingly helpful. He was the one that had tried pawing at Jackie the previous day, at least so Marianne thought. But it was hard to tell with the men wearing their uniforms¨Cthey all looked the same sometimes. The scoundrel continued speaking. ¡°Maybe she¡¯s confused? We could help her understand¨C¡± ¡°-Ha! Yes!¡± One of the other men slapped the second speaker on the back, cajoling him onward in his stupidity. ¡°Maybe she isn¡¯t sure what that honest due is? Eh? Maybe you wanna help teach her? Or you worried she¡¯ll give ya the slip again?¡± The man broke out laughing, partly encouraging, and partly mocking. ¡°Haven¡¯t laughed that hard seeing a brother in arms fail in a long while!¡± ¡°Enough,¡± the first speaker said, cutting into the other man¡¯s fun. The first speaker must have been in charge of their ragtag group. Maybe some sort of captain or sergeant or elected peacekeeper¡­ Marianne really could not be bothered to learn their rankings. ¡°What about it, lass?¡± The first speaker asked. ¡°If you¡¯re short on Chargers, you could always pay in other ways.¡± Marianne cringed. There was little doubt what the man was alluding to. Marianne prayed that Jackie would resist¨Cthough it would be understandable to give in and roll over beneath the pressure. After a moment¡¯s hesitation, likely getting her thoughts in order, Jackie replied, ¡°...No.¡± Marianne sagged in relief, before tensing back up as Jackie continued speaking. ¡°I don¡¯t think that I will,¡± Jackie said. ¡°And I remain unconvinced that you¡¯ve done any ¡®honest work¡¯ for me either.¡± Stop antagonizing them! Marianne thought furiously, clenching her jaws. ¡°Maybe she¡¯s daft?¡± the ¡®helpful¡¯ one asked. ¡°Seems the case,¡± the first answered back. ¡°At least if she thinks it¡¯s still a choice.¡± They were crowding in around Jackie now, though not touching her, they were within yards of her and cornering her against the walls of Ma¡¯Ritz. Marianne gulped. This looked bad. She wondered if shouting down would help at all. Let the peacekeepers know there were witnesses about. But then again, when had the peacekeepers ever cared about that before? Jackie made a weak attempt at de-escalating the situation. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be watching for troublemakers right now? Or are you all off-duty?¡± ¡°Why?¡± the second asked. ¡°You think we¡¯re not?¡± ¡°Yeah, why?¡± another of the men tacked on. ¡°You worried about our lieutenant''s scruples? The man ain¡¯t above letting us get our peckers¨C¡± ¡°Gross,¡± Marianne gagged, not that anyone below on the street heard. Jackie might have gagged as well. Marianne hoped so, at least. ¡°Amusing, but no,¡± Jackie said. ¡°I am, however, on the clock. On duty. Working. And since I¡¯m not currently breaking any laws, you men would be better served by patrolling elsewhere.¡± ¡°Tellin¡¯ us how to do our jobs then, eh?¡± the second speaker said, probably looking for an excuse to escalate to violence. ¡°No,¡± Jackie said without inflection. ¡°Your jobs should be obvious, even to you.¡± ¡°You and your godslickin¡¯ tongue, woman!¡± Marianne wanted to laugh. If she were confident that the men down below could not hear, and if she was worried less about missing part of the discussion below, then she would have. Allowed herself to laugh, that is. It was a near thing. ¡°If you would move along,¡± Jackie said without irony. ¡°I¡¯m here to prevent trouble from occurring, and you men are creating a spectacle. It¡¯s bad for business.¡± That time, Marianne was unable to stop herself, and she snorted out a laugh, cringing at the same time expecting the worst of possible reactions. She was surprised when the worst that came from the men was just a series of verbal retorts. ¡°Oi!¡± one said. ¡°Hey!¡± the first said. ¡°This¨Cthis¨Ccunt!¡± the serial groper complained. ¡°Again, not to sound rude,¡± Jackie explained calmly, being quite rude from the men¡¯s perspectives, Marianne was sure. ¡°I¡¯m employed by Ma¡¯Ritz to¨C¡± ¡°-enough chatterin¡¯!¡± the second one, the one that failed to keep his paws to himself, the serial groper, whined. ¡°We can¡¯t just¨Cjust¨C¡± ¡°Easy Phillip,¡± the first speaker said, resting a heavy palm on Phillip¡¯s shoulder. ¡°We won¡¯t hear the end of it if we do this here and now. You don¡¯t wanna be banned from Ma¡¯s, yeah?¡± ¡°Ugh, ¡®course not! But that¡¯s easy for you to say!¡± Phillip complained. ¡°You aren¡¯t the one she humiliated earlier!¡± ¡°I did no such thing,¡± Jackie argued, ¡°Or at the very least, I¡¯m not responsible for your humiliation!¡± Implying that the man did that all on his own. ¡°Yes you are responsible!¡± Phillip sputtered. ¡°First you embarrass me in front of everyone, then you try making me look foolish now! This cannot¨C!¡± The first speaker, with his hand still on Phillip¡¯s shoulder, squeezed even more tightly while giving a ¡®friendly¡¯ squeeze.¡°And it won¡¯t Phillip, and it won¡¯t.¡± Left unsaid was the ¡®shut up and let me deal with it.¡¯ What were they planning? Marianne wondered, worriedly. Fortunately, Jackie must have had similar thoughts, as she voiced the question, ¡°And just what does that mean, exactly?¡± Jackie asked warily, before shaking her head and scoffing. ¡°It sounds ominous.¡± It is not a scoffing matter! Marianne thought. Why had Jackie scoffed? ¡°Ha!¡± the first speaker forced out a bark of a laugh. ¡°You ¡®n that cheek o¡¯ yours will be finding out, lass. Now, come along Phillip,¡± he said as he squeezed Phillip¡¯s shoulder hard enough to make Phillip gasp. ¡°We have our rounds to finish makin¡¯ tonight. No reason to keep dawdling.¡± ¡°Have a pleasant evening then,¡± Jackie said, sounding as though she meant it. Marianne could not tell if Jackie was serious or not, but she certainly sounded it. Which meant Jackie was an amazing actress. Which meant Jackie had been holding out in the tavern. Which meant this entire mess could have been avoided! Jackie¡¯s words not only caught Marianne off balance, but also the peacekeepers. They had not been expecting a friendly farewell either. ¡°Yeah,¡± their leader said, almost politely, which meant it must have been by reflex. He made up for it by coughing to clear his throat, and then adding a much more menacing sounding, ¡°You too.¡± Amusingly enough, one of the men clapped their leader on the back to help clear the throat. A moment of surly glares passed, and then the peacekeepers departed, heading down the Hill towards the rest of the city. Jackie watched them leave from where she was leaning against the walls, until they were well out of sight. She scratched at her right arm beneath the sleeve of her uniform¡¯s jacket, before mumbling under her breath, something about her mother. Marianne kept watch for a while longer, to see if anything horrible would happen, such as the peacekeepers returning out of uniform to issue their own brand of extra-legal justice. But a half hour later, Marianne¡¯s eyes grew heavy, and her worries were largely abated. She made her way back to bed, tucking herself in properly this time. As her head hit her pillow, she wondered when Jackie would be turning in for the night herself, and if Jackie would still be sharing a room with Marianne. Soon, Marianne¡¯s eyes closed, and she drifted off to sleep. That night, she had curious dreams of big eared and poofy tailed girls dancing through a battlefield also full of tavern tables with seated patrons. The girls all had lilac colored fur. Dreams seldom made sense. Absorption 2.2.1 Guise of the Kitsune: 3/9 (+1) Obsession: 4/9 (+1) Eschiver: 9/9 (+1) -> Eschiver I: 1/9 Evasion: 8/9 (+1) -> Evasion I: 1/9 Impending Sense: 1/9 Lucky Break: 1/9 I maintained my confident pose, letting none of my nervous energy show, as I watched the baron¡¯s men, the ¡®peacekeepers,¡¯ depart. I knew the kinds of men these peacekeepers were, and I felt certain that they would seize upon any perceived vulnerability. Which was a shame, as I would have loved to have avoided the conflict all together. I would have loved to bow out, apologize, acquiesce, turn and flee. But running would make it a sport, a chase, and eventually, a game of the cruelest kind. So no, I did not flee. I did not acquiesce. I held my own until the odorous pigs backed off. I considered it the best result possible, even if the peacekeepers were planning some form of vengeance. The entire situation was unfortunate, and it must have been a symptom of this terrible society. At least, that was what I decided was the case. Afterall, how else could the police force of this state be this corrupt? Or, perhaps not the state, but the city. Afterall, I remembered the Inquisition, which I could have almost likened to an overzealous investigation service. Though even the inquisition came beholden to the nobility, so they could hardly be considered impartial. And while I wanted to call it corruption, the bribes were so explicitly obvious that they must not have been illicit, hence not technically bribes, but payments. It put the idiotic phrase, ¡°honest dues for honest work,¡± in a new light. I hated it. The entire system deserved to burn. All of it. I shuddered and tried to ignore the impotent anger. This was nothing new. Nothing new at all. I should have expected it. Because from the sparse memories I had from before waking up in this dystopian world, I had had plenty of encounters with corrupt police and detectives. Though not all of them had been corrupt, and perhaps that was the case here. Well, they had not been corrupt until hefty doses of scheming and creative coercion were applied. Mother had exposed me to more of that work than I would have liked. I kept shaking my head until I stopped thinking about it. These peacekeepers had finally slipped from view, heading down the hill, away from the palatial estates of the nobility. With them gone, without their spying, I now had the chance to relocate to a less contested position. And in fact, the more I considered it, I felt compelled to reposition. My guts demanded it. And not only that, but it was the smart thing to do, for I had been stationary for too long. It was my responsibility to guard Ma¡¯Ritz, but I could not confirm that the other entrances were currently safe. More importantly, if any vengeance seekers so sought, they would find it more difficult to snipe me if I relocated. Depending on where I relocated to. Fortunately, I had just the Talent. It was one of the first ones I had received, and probably the most useful one. Putting one hand up on the wall, I pulled myself up in a one armed pull up that would have been impossible, should have been impossible. I was grabbing nothing, but the very intent of wanting to hang on to the wall caused an almost magnetic pull between my hand and the wall of Ma¡¯Ritz. Next came my false arm, stretching a bit further than it should have as the tendrils straightened out. Then my feet. Between my featherlight weight and my ability to climb near any surface, I scurried up the side of the building, reaching the sloped roof within ten seconds. From the roof, I perched along the edge, anchoring myself in what should have been a very risky, near suicidal crouch, for there was no railing or bannister to lean against, and the roof was both steeply sloped and slickly tiled. I remained crouched there for a minute, tasting the wind, letting it ruffle my hair, and taking in the expanse of lights sloping down the Hill towards the rest of the city. While it was no true urban sprawl like from back home, it was impressive enough, in its own way. After I was certain nobody had seen me climb, and that no eyes gazed upon me, I began to prowl along the edge of the roof, checking on each side of the building, ensuring I would not be held liable for any overt damages to the building or patrons, as my duties had been explained. I wished I could claim that the night was silent, but the city¡¯s industry never ceased, only slowed. Wagons still traveled the streets, men and women came and went, and of course, the ever present wind filled my ears. Occasionally, spent men would depart the brothel in good spirits, or join with others on their way to another pub. It was irritating watching them leave, though I could hardly put my finger on why, exactly. Thankfully, as the night continued, the party-goers grew sparser and fewer in between. The night grew lonely. It felt fitting to brood my next steps. And next steps I absolutely needed to plan. Besides Emboru¡¯s task, besides my infiltration of the city, besides the future of my entire life in this awful and strange world, I had to figure out my Marks. Which ones I would add, and which direction I would attempt to train and grow my existing Major Marks. I had been somewhat fortunate thus far, in that the expansions I had received had been beneficial. But from what I had learned since arriving at the city, I could be taking a much more active role. By happy chance, the most recent gains were useful. Were I to ask almost anyone in the city, I would have been called ¡®lucky.¡¯ Over the past few days, Guise of the Kitsune had grown, but I was unsure of what that new growth entailed, or what had been the prompting factor for it to grow in the first place. So far as I could determine, the prompting factor was related to meeting new people. Which brought me to the most likely reason for my ¡®Gift¡¯ increasing. Obsession. To be quite honest, I tried very hard to avoid thinking about it, acknowledging it, or ever considering what that ¡®Gift¡¯ entailed. Just feeling the Mark burn and itch as it grew left me feeling ill. I quickly turned my thoughts on to more pleasant gains. Lucky Break was an odd one. The sense I got from it was not so much ¡®luck,¡¯ as it was positioning myself and my actions in places that aligned or furthered with my goals. But it was subtle, a slight nudge of a feather stroke. It worried me. I worried it would have a compounding effect. Because actions, outside of my plans, should be random, a net neutral momentum overall to the course of my life. How would a constant weight to that random chance compound across time? It made me wonder if my destiny was not so much my own. Well, it made me wonder more than I already had. The most immediately useful of the new Talents had to have been Impending Sense. It was a new sense, incomparable to any of the other five. To describe it, I would have said it was an exact gut feeling of foreboding, exactly as I knew how to move to avoid whatever was causing the sense, and a gut feeling as it failed to tell me what it was I was supposed to be dodging. It had come in handy when I was avoiding sexual harassment on the tavern floor, aiding me in moving to avoid grabby hands from grubby customers. I was still considering what direction I needed my Marks to grow into when I heard a grunt. Considering the background noise from the wind and the rest of the city, the grunt had to have been loud. Worried, I checked about myself along the rooftops. I failed to find anyone else up there with me. I was wondering if I misheard something else when I caught fragments of conversation, then another grunt, this one more pained. There were thumps of flesh striking flesh. I focused on my guts, where I usually felt Impending Sense¨Cbut nothing there seemed off. So far as I could tell, there was no direct and immediate danger to myself. A loud crack came from somewhere below on the streets. A muffled shout. Someone was getting mugged, and whoever they were, they were nearby. I groaned. This was just what I needed. Ordinarily, I would refrain from intervening. The thought of doing so would never have crossed my mind. But I had responsibilities. And if these muggers were close enough to hear, then they were close enough to reflect upon Ma¡¯Ritz, and my continued employment. At the very least, I needed to investigate a bit further so that I could say that I did. So, still crouched, I prowled along the edge of the roof, cutting over one of the slopes, across a corner, to where I thought the noise had come from. My eyes were weak compared to my other form, and the roadway beneath was barely illuminated by the porchlights from the decking along Ma¡¯Ritz. This was the brothel side of the business, but no new clients were entering. All of the entertainment that would have happened was either in progress or over. This portion of the building faced away from the main thoroughfare that winded up and down Blossom Hill. Still decently lit, with lamp posts along the secondary streets, but not incredibly bright. Given the persistent cloudy overcast skies, the lamps were really the only source of nighttime light. Fortunately, there was enough of it that even the darkest part of the street was only gloomy, and not pitch black. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. In the shadows, I thought I saw movement. Another grunt. Someone was struggling as they were dragged along the side of the building, towards one of the alleys. Where had the perpetrators been hiding? Was this one of the brothel¡¯s patrons? That¡­ that would be bad. I still remembered the very frank discussion I had with Esmerelda. My expanded duties could be viewed as a good thing, in a way. They allowed me more freedom, more ¡®responsibility,¡¯ and more rewards. It might not have been a raise, exactly, but the benefits and the Esmerelda¡¯s offer had been enticing. Especially when compared against my original objective. The downside, however, was that responsibility. I would be hung out to dry or worse, depending on the severity of my failing. And allowing a patron to be snatched up off the brothel¡¯s doorstep would be considered severe. Which meant I was already late in intervening. Why were there even muggers here? This should have been the nicest part of town. What were those peacekeepers even doing? And they had the gall to demand payment. Disgust welled up as I turned downward, placing one hand below the other, taking advantage of my Inversion Talent. No blood ran to my head, and moving downward felt as natural as moving upward. Still, though, Inversion was hardly necessary to climb down the wall. It helped, but was not required. Inversion, was by large, a wasted Talent. I hoped I could recover it somewhat with future growth; at least it was not terminal. Or so I thought. As I climbed downward, I got a better look at the muggers and their victim. The victim stank of incense and liquor, and were I to get closer, I guessed I would have seen rosy cheeks as well. He was bent double, wearing a soiled doublet, and held by both arms as the muggers dragged him backwards over the ground. His mouth was gaping like a fish, his cheeks somewhat loose, and his neck strained. I hoped he would survive. If not, I would likely be fleeing the upscale district for the slums, sooner than later. Which would likely have been where the muggers were from. They wore dusty browns and grays, with most of the color they wore being their eye-catching blue armbands that featured dazzling jeweled topaz pickaxe on top of a yellow skull. Garish. While I failed to recognize the exact faction, I recognized the markings from the pit crew. I was now a few yards above them, and as they continued dragging their victim, I kept pace, strafing the wall. I tried to figure a graceful way to handle this. As I stalked them, I could not help but eavesdrop on their inane conversation. I had hoped to hear mention of the peacekeepers, or at the very least, why they had infiltrated Blossom Hill to harass the patrons of Ma¡¯Ritz. Perhaps the client had illicit dealings that had come to call due? I hoped that was the case. It would exonerate me, somewhat. Afterall, here or somewhere else, the man¡¯s life would be forfeit. Assuming his enemies were competent. ¡°-good ¡®nuff?¡± one of the men asked as they reached the side of Ma¡¯Ritz, far outside of any of the lamps. It was one of the two dragging the victim. He sported a cylindrical visored cap, though it was bent and worn. ¡°Nah, down there a bit,¡± the man following along behind them said. He carried a blackjack, likely why the victim was currently insensate. ¡°Sure sure¡­¡± the capped mugger replied. ¡°Say, what¡¯re we supposed to do with this bloke?¡± ¡°This bloke specifically?¡± The final mugger, the one holding the victim¡¯s other side, said. ¡°Nuthin.¡± ¡°Then why¨C¡± ¡°-shuddup,¡± the final one said. He seemed to be somewhat in charge, at least judging by his tone. ¡°Got the skinnin¡¯ knife?¡± ¡°Terry ¡®ad it last,¡± the capped mugger replied. ¡°Terry?¡± The mugger¡¯s leader asked. ¡°Yeah, yeah, here,¡± answered Terry, who was also the mugger that had been following along behind. Terry clicked his tongue as he reached in his jacket. He sneered at the victim. ¡°Almos¡¯ feel sorry for the git.¡± Their boss scoffed. ¡°Least his last night went well ¡®nuff.¡± ¡°Why say that?¡± Terry asked. ¡°This poor sod came outta here, din he?¡± ¡°Still¡­¡± TerryFeels almost wrong.¡± The capped mugger threw a skeptical glance towards Terry. ¡°Questionin¡¯ the boss¡¯ orders?¡± From how he said it, it was clear that the boss referenced here was not the presumed leader of the muggers. I scanned around us, looking for a fourth mugger, but I failed to see anyone else. Whoever this boss was, it must have dispatched these three muggers for this particular purpose. ¡°Uhhh¡­.¡± Terry led off with his mouth hanging low and dumb. ¡°Nah, I ain¡¯t suicidal.¡± ¡°Then shuddup! An¡¯ get me that knife,¡± the trio¡¯s leader said, holding out a hand. The third one trailing behind the other two handed over a wickedly curved knife that formed a hook on the dull side. A hook meant for pulling and grabbing bones and sinews, a nasty thing, and one that appeared scuffed and well used. Whatever they were planning to do with it was not good. I still had yet to formulate a workable plan. I could let my Guise drop, but there was a high chance somebody would see me, and then questions would be asked, and my cover ruined. That meant my Illusions were off the table. All I had in my kit was my ability to climb, to hide, and¡­ that was really it. I had never been a fighter. Perhaps I should change that. My false arm spasmed just then, unwinding one of its three tendrils. It almost seemed offended at being forgotten. That was right, I remembered. My false arm had slain rats easily. But¡­ There was a large difference between rats and men. The tendons connecting the false arm to my clavicle pinched¨Cthe parasite disagreed? It was then that I gave the muggers a better examination. Were they more able than rats? Truly? Obviously they were poor. They would be lacking in resources, and could likely only afford the cheapest and the worst of the modifications. And if they were modified, then surely they would be treated better than they were? But they did not appear valued. Their clothes were dirty and well worn. Their faces smudged with grease. They could not have been overly powerful: two of them were required to drag the man along. In fact, I thought there was a chance they may have been sacrificial units. I might have been making a mistake, but I thought that all three of the grunts were unmodified, baseline humans. My guts were turning at the thought of violence, but I did not feel I was being careless. It was a calculated risk, and I had both the advantage of ability and surprise. Taking and holding a breath, I pushed away from the wall and let myself drop several yards. I would have loved to claim everything slowed down. That I calmly plotted the course of each of my limbs. I felt the ground rising up. The risk of the knife flaring brightly, impossible to ignore. My false arm snapped forward. Two tendrils whipped around Terry¡¯s throat, crushing both his windpipe and spine. The other two started to shout, but I was still falling; everything was happening so fast. The only thing that seemed to keep up with the pace of my velocity was my false arm. I landed, more collided, on the cylindrical capped mugger. I hit his shoulders with my knees and stomach. He collapsed. The air was driven from my lungs. Dull pain spread up from my ribs, then a sharper one. He and I went down in a tangle. As he still held on to the victim, the victim fell down on top of us, adding to the mess. As the victim was still connected to the final mugger, their leader, the last mugger also lost balance, stumbled, and fell atop the mugger, who was atop me, and I, who was atop another¡­ though the one I had landed on was twitching and thrashing and likely dying from a broken spine. In that heap that we found ourselves in, I had trouble disentangling both myself and my sense of awareness. The mugger recovered first. But my false arm followed soon after. Without my direction, it snapped and crushed and twisted until all three of the muggers were dead. The victim was still gasping, possibly sobbing, definitely spasming atop of me. However, the victim was most definitely alive, though bruised and battered. I glanced down at my false arm as it began to reform a facsimile of a human arm. I had not commanded it to do any of that. It displayed an uncomfortable level of autonomy for a limb. No, not just uncomfortable, terrifying. My arm was sentient, and it was only by chance that our interests aligned. This stank of Emboru. To confound issues further, the arm was itching in a way reminiscent of when my Blessings used to increase, as when my Spirit or Body or Mind improved. And in the gloom of the night, it almost seemed that the false arm had darkened, that the silver had grown more pronounced. Already it had grown so opaque as to veil the tendrils coiled within. Minutes passed as I collected myself. Minutes more as I helped the victim, the patron of Ma¡¯Ritz, get back to his feet. Even as a victim, he carried himself with a mix of entitlement, and I was loathing whatever he would say to Ma. But, the only thing I could do in this case was ameliorate the complaints the best that I could. I brushed him off and helped support his weight, and we headed back to Ma¡¯Ritz, where he could hopefully collect himself further. I asked if he wanted to find the peacekeepers, and he snorted a laugh, and asked, ¡°Whatever for?¡± We were just climbing the back steps to Ma¡¯Ritz when I heard voices approaching from down the Hill. The patron seemed oblivious, continuing forwards towards the brothel. I glanced to see if the muggers were expecting reinforcements, wondering if I would need to abandon Ma¡¯Ritz earlier than planned, when I identified the source of voices as the peacekeepers. They made a beeline for the alleyway, where the dead and dying muggers laid. Interesting and suspicious. This must have been their plan then. To discredit me, or to punish Ma¡¯Ritz for failing to pay the ¡®honest dues.¡¯ Frustrating. I continued onward, and soon we were slipping back into Ma¡¯Ritz, with the door closing behind us. So far as I could tell, the peacekeepers missed seeing us. I could deal with them later. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (3/9)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
  • Stealth I (6/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (5/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver I (1/9)
    • Evasion I (1/9)
      • Impending Sense (1/9)
    • Lucky Break (1/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (3/9) (+1)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.2.2 Once we entered, the man finally regained enough of his wits to loudly shout for help. ¡°Is this how Ma¡¯Ritz treats patrons?!¡± the man loudly complained, almost shouting. ¡°I was just mugged on your doorstep! And if not for the happenstance of a passerby, I would have been slain! Madame Ritz! Servants! I insist you show yourself immediately!¡± He continued on furiously, all the while I continued supporting his weight. I cringed away from his shouting, wincing at every decibel. A voice answered from the stairway to the second floor as footsteps descended quickly. I immediately recognized the voice. It was Esmerelda, and she came wearing a silky bathrobe with several provocative wet stains, her hair in disarray. I struggled to see her in that fashion, though not because she appeared indecent. Not exactly, in any case. It was difficult to see her fresh from her nightwork. I tried to distract myself by fawning over the victim, helping him straighten his doublet. He seemed appreciative of my efforts, leaning in as I brushed the worst of the grime off. How was I going to explain this, I wondered. A case could be made that I had failed in my duties, my responsibilities. Hopefully I could spin in such a way as to minimize my failings. I doubted I could achieve a flattering light, as I had allowed a client to be mugged in the first place, practically grabbed right off the back steps. When Esmerelda reached the base, her eyes narrowed and she canted her head, putting her hands on her hips. ¡°Why¨CJackie?¡± Esmerelda asked, frowning softly, and giving the vocal man a very concerned once over. ¡°Why do you have Samuel Warkin with you? And what happened to him? Was this¨C?¡± The victim, apparently named Samuel Warkin, took another deep breath. "You know this girl?!" he asked, at first calming briefly at the sight of Esmerelda, before picking up his head of steam once more. "She just saved me from an attack on your doorstep!¡± he finished in a shout. ¡°Your security is preposterous!" He continued bellowing his tirade in the grand lobby of Ma''Ritz. His voice echoed off the ornate brass clockwork filigree and wall sconces that adorned the room. "I demand recompense for my stolen belongings and for the harm I received!" If any other guests or employees were in the lobby at that time, I felt certain there would be murmurs and uneasy glances shared, with whispered gossip. The man looked around him, as though expecting the same thing. He seemed slightly disappointed when nothing of the sort happened. But quickly he shook it off, and instead began massaging his lower back, groaning in pain. It may have been a mean thought, but I wondered if perhaps he was acting it up. Did this world have insurance companies? I wondered. "You had better plan on paying for a healing tonic," Samuel said hotly. "No, better yet. You must have one here. I know you do. These places always keep some in stock. Give it. Now. This pain is unbearable¡­¡± he exhaled heavily through his nostrils. ¡°And it is your fault." He added snidely, while giving Esmerelda a pointed glare. Esmerelda''s breath caught, before she straightened herself, flung her hair behind a shoulder, and crossed her arms beneath her voluptuous chest, allowing plenty of cleavage to show through her silk robes. "Samuel, dear," she purred, her voice carrying a calming effect. "What happened? I had thought you were satisfied with our services when you left? Did one of the girls fail living up to your robust expectations?" The way she huskily said the word robust left me feeling somewhat ill. She coupled it with a pointed glance at his crotch. A part of me admired her tenacity and her sense of manipulation. Another part felt jealousy that it was directed at Samuel, and a third just wished for the night to end altogether. Samuel coughed and smiled slightly, before another wave of pain caused him to spasm. "Argh! Health tonic now, woman! I may be dying from my injuries as we speak!" "We''re collecting one now," Esmerelda said. I failed to notice any other activity, but perhaps there was another listening in on the conversation. Perhaps Marianne, I wondered? "Please, Samuel. Be patient¡­ for me?" she finished with a note of hesitant softness. "Oh¨C" Samuel started to protest, but Esmerelda was not done. She continued, "You know that I would love to make it worth your while." ¡°Ah¡­¡± he said, almost huffing. ¡°A massage would be soothing after the night I had. These thugs! You would not believe the audacity!" He brushed off some of the grime from his doublet, and found a torn chain which likely had gone to a pocket watch. He snarled at the broken gold chain. Seeing that seemed to remind him of his ire. "No. I would be ridiculous to just let this go,¡± he said. ¡°I was assaulted by ruffians not a stone''s throw from your establishment! And who came to my aid? Not your security, but this... this girl!" He spat the last word as if it were poison on his tongue. And perhaps it was, if it was I who saved him when he could not save himself. It might be damaging to his ego. When he finished his tirade, Esmerelda gasped, theatrically, but not enough so to come across as satirical. "Are... are you--do you need to lay down?" she asked, rushing towards him and fawning over him. It left me wanting to gag, but the man appeared unaware of the ruse. "Oh,¡± he said. ¡°I''ll survive, I suppose..." "Thank the Crown," Esmerelda gushed, continuing to rub his arm and shoulder, while pushing her front against his side. It felt like I was a voyeur, watching. It felt like I should look away. But we still had to address this and get in front of it, before it came out that it was all somehow my fault! And besides that, I knew the peacekeepers would not allow me a night¡¯s peace, at least not without making one more scene. There were deaths, afterall. "But still!¡± he partially pulled away from her. ¡°Will that healing tonic arrive shortly?" "Yes, of course Samuel. Only the best for you. I am so so sorry that this tragedy occurred!" "Well... yes. It could have ended up worse," he coughed. "I was fortunate that this young miss happened by. She must have a marvelous Marking to have dispatched those thugs where I did not. But then, she had the drop on them, while they had the drop on me¡­ But..¡± he trailed off, thinking. I wondered what he was speculating upon. Was it my marking, or was it if he could have given a better accounting of himself if he had a chance to prepare? Maybe he wondered why he had been targeted at all. If that was what he was in fact wondering, then I would certainly not be the one to burst that ego-bubble¨Che was just a victim of happenstance, the one the thugs saw first. He finally finished. ¡°But... why did she have to intervene at all? Why does your establishment allow such filth to loiter and prey upon its grounds?" he asked, working up his ire once again. I winced at the direction he decided to go with. "But... we do have security," Esmerelda said, frowning at me. This time, I was unsure if the frown was a true expression or an act. "You were saved by her." "What?¡± the man asked, affronted. ¡°You mean¡­ no, you can¡¯t mean that she is who you trust your security with? A slip of a girl? No wonder I was mugged! What was Madame thinking?!" "Weren''t you just--" I started, pointing out that he had been quite grateful just seconds before. A stern shake of Esmerelda¡¯s head cut me off though. I realized it would be bad to argue with Samuel at this point in time. "-nevermind that!¡± he said, ignoring me completely. ¡°If you had hired competent help, then I would not have been in such dire straits to begin with!" I winced, suddenly worried that I would be blamed for Samuel Warkin''s state. He was in that gray category that verged nobility, a man with connections. I very much did not wish to be the target of his ire. It could have ramifications, such as delaying my integration into society, and hindering my information gathering. Or, it may lead to my guise being ruined, and jail time... or slavery. I resisted the urge to shudder. I would just need to spin this the right way. "Well girl?!" Samuel demanded of me, "What have you to say for your shoddy performance? For allowing me--me!-- to be mugged on your doorstep?" I licked my upper lip, grimacing. My eyes glanced towards Esmerelda and she gave a half shrug in response. Would she not help me? I tried pleading with my eyes. She rolled hers. "My my, Samuel..." Esmerelda said softly, once again sidling up to Samuel''s side and running a finger along the side of his arm. "Such an eventful evening. We have baths upstairs, along with that tonic, which surely must be ready by now. perhaps--" If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Samuel pulled away from Esmerelda in a painful looking jerking motion. He winced from his own motion, but persisted all the same. "I will hear her answer, woman." He said hotly. Esmerelda frowned, but her eyes landed upon me as well. She made a ''go-on'' gesture, and from the weight of her stare, I knew I needed to make it good. This reminded me briefly of a study done a long time ago, one that Mother ensured I knew well: those who got in front of a perceived slight and acted even more contritely than the slighted party felt was appropriate, then there was a solid chance the slighted party would ameliorate the offense on their own. Of course, there were limits to the manipulation tactic: it would hardly work for someone that just committed a heinous offense. It was also sometimes difficult to understand how much contriteness the slighted party expected. Given this situation, where the slighted party was some sort of aristocrat with entitlement issues, I would have to play the apologetic hand hard. At least I knew a reasonable course forward. If I were to leave it to my instincts, I would blame the peacekeepers, the baron''s men. They were the ones at fault. And they certainly would land in the aristocrat''s targets if my plan paid off. I just hoped to avoid putting them there myself. It was more likely to work out this way. I fell to my knees and apologized, begging forgiveness. "I failed. I am so sorry, Mister Warkin. So incredibly sorry!" I pushed my forehead against the hardwood floor. "I am unworthy of your time. You suffered because of me. How can I ever¨C" Samuel coughed once again, a slight air of embarrassment now eminent. "Ah, well--the fault does not lie entirely with you, I suppose. This establishment should have hired more protections! And don''t get me started for those lazy incompetents charged with protecting the finer citizens..." "No! It''s my fault alone. Please, how can I--please forgive me!" "Ah..." Samuel trailed off. "Please, stand up. If not for you, I would have suffered, possibly died. In fact, I should be grateful to you for your intervention." "I should have intervened sooner. I should have chased the riff raff off sooner. I should have listened to the peacekeepers when they threatened me! I should have known! Or at least, let someone know! And no--" I forced myself to sniffle "-it was you that suffered! I''m unworthy!" "W-wait..." Samuel said, picking up on the trail of redirection I left. "I never saw any peacekeepers. Where were they? What did they say?" he asked, an odd edge in his voice. "What happened?" Esmerelda hurriedly asked. "And be honest. A deceit here would prove more costly." She did not have to tell me. Though interestingly enough, she thought I might have been the dishonest sort, considering she employed me. "J-just b-before--no, maybe hours?¡± I forced my voice to take a shaky cadence to it, without overdoing it and causing doubt in my ability to do my job, at least no obvious doubt. It was a fine line. It had to be reasonable for me to perform my duties, without being completely confident as to not garner sympathy. A fine line. In this case, I angled more towards patheticness. ¡°They-they came to demand payment, wh-when I refused, they s-sounded ominous and left--" "An honest due,¡± Samuel spat. He turned to Esmerelda. ¡°Did Ma''Ritz dodge their payments this week?" "-no," Esmerelda said, frowning. "I do not believe so..." "Then what happened?" he demanded, turning back to me. "I began patrolling around the establishment... that was when I heard those thugs attack you." "And who were¨C" In hindsight, the timing could not have been better. Entering the dimly lit lobby of Ma''Ritz, the three peacekeepers, those vile enforcers of the baron''s law, did create a cacophony of clinking armor and boisterous voices. The stench of corruption wafted in with them, possessing the air as if it were their own. These men, emboldened by my refusal to pay their bribes or submit to their base desires, sought now to fabricate charges against me and the establishment. At least, that is what I assumed they intended. The mothersworn fools. "Hey?" Esmerelda called out to them as they strode in as if they owned the place. They ignored or failed to discern Samuel, and other than a lecherous glance towards Esmerelda, they ignored her as well. "Is this them?" Samuel asked me. I gave him a weak nod. The leader of the peacekeepers, at least of this trio, saw me and smirked. "By the Baron''s decree," he bellowed, a brutish man with a face marred by scars and a scruffy beard, "why are their bodies out front? Was it not her¨C" he pointed at me "-job to ensure the peace?" "Indeed, we shan''t be trifled with," added the second, his haughty tone betraying an air of false superiority. "The girl claimed she could do our jobs for us, and here we are, with three bodies out front. Curious and guilty looking, me¡¯thinks." "Uhm..." I said, taken aback by their oafishness. It almost seemed as though they were playing characters in a play. Was this¨Cwere they serious? "You," the leader said, pointing at me. "You murdered those men? You''ll face the Crown''s justice for this¨C" The final one thrust out a collar, grinning at me, showing off his silver capped tooth. I took an instinctual step back. It was then that Samuel Warkin could take no more. Or, that Esmerelda prompted him to act with a gentle plea and nudge. "Enough!¡± he shouted back at them. ¡°You failsons ought to be ashamed!" he cried. "It was your negligence that allowed scum to encroach upon Blossom Hill, endangering my life in the process!" "Silence, fool!" spat the first peacekeeper, his scarred visage contorting with irritation. He must not have recognized Samuel Warkin, assuming he was just another upper middle class busybody. That, however, was not the sense I had gotten from Warkin. "You dare?" Samuel Warkin hissed. "Oi,¡± the peacekeeper scoffed mockingly. ¡°I dare alright." "Who is he?" one of the smarter peacekeepers asked. "A fine question!" Samuel seethed."I am kin to the baron himself, and I shall not hesitate to inform him of your incompetence! Give me your names, fools." "Likely story,¡± the leader said. ¡°You''d obstruct the law itself?" their leader said, almost a scoff, but far less confident than before. "We shall find the girl and bring her to justice, regardless of your interference." Justice?! I mused, scoffing inwardly. I was growing increasingly confident that this city lacked any such notion. "And what law was this?" Samuel said. "Defending me? What will my cousin, your baron, say when he hears of it? If anything, the girl deserves a reward for doing your jobs for you!" The peacekeepers'' faces turned a most peculiar shade of red, akin to the setting sun on a smog-filled eve. Their haughty demeanors crumbled like ancient masonry caught in the relentless grip of time, and they glanced at one another with unease. "Very well," muttered the first peacekeeper through gritted teeth, his gaze flickering between Samuel and myself. "But know this: you and Ma''Ritz have made enemies today. Our captain shall hear of this, and when he does, you best be prepared to stand alone." "Or submit," added the third, his vile grin returning like a ghastly apparition in the night. He pocketed the collar as he said that, far too confident for my liking. I had never tested my immunity to sealing collars since I had received my false arm, and I had no intention of testing it now. After those final words, the peacekeepers retreated from the lobby, their heavy footsteps echoing throughout the establishment like the rumblings of some terrible storm brewing upon the horizon. ¡°They disrespected not only me, but my family!¡± Samuel seethed. ¡°I cannot allow this behavior to continue unchecked. My cousin, the baron, must be informed of these deplorable actions. Such corruption within the very ranks meant to protect us is simply intolerable." "Indeed,¡± Esmerelda said, finding Samuel¡¯s side once more. ¡°But that can be done tomorrow, my dear Samuel," Esmerelda said in a bewitching tone, dissipating any lingering animosity. She approached Samuel with an alluring smile and a graceful stride. Her eyes sparkled like the stars themselves, their hypnotic depths promising realms of pleasure yet unexplored, and she reached out to place her delicate hand upon his arm in a gesture of comfort. "Come now," she entreated, her voice as melodious as the lilting songs of the nightingale, "let us leave such distressing matters behind us for the evening. A bath and your tonic is prepared... along with anything else you might need..." she finished coyly, drawing him off towards the stairs, leaving me by my lonesome in the foyer. The evening had fallen, casting the city in a delicate shroud of twilight shadows. I found myself retiring to the bedchamber I shared with Marianne, compelled by exhaustion and haunted by the specters of my recent actions. The cacophony of the bustling Ma''Ritz below the floorboards was a faint reminder of the enemies I had made and the precarious position in which I now stood. I pondered if it was worth staying at Ma¡¯Ritz. It seemed far too distracting, and my information network had failed to expand much at all since I had started working there. Though there were benefits, and promises of more in the future, I could not tell if it was worth it or not. Especially with the deadlines hanging over me. My thoughts wandered to Emboru''s siblings, hidden somewhere within this dark, unforgiving world. A cold shiver ran down my spine as I considered the increasing difficulty of finding them with the justice system lurking ever so close, their unrelenting breath hot on my neck. In the midst of such adversity, could I maintain my obligation to Emboru? As my mind continued to race, envisioning both the consequences of my choices and the potential outcomes of my quest, I felt the weight of my eyelids growing heavier. I made my way towards my shared bunkroom. When I entered, Marianne stirred in her sleep. "Jackie," whispered Marianne, her voice barely audible above the distant din of the Ma''Ritz, "are you well?" "Well enough,¡± I said. ¡°Go back to sleep.¡± "Mmm... bed..." she said sleepily, turning away from me. Her words provided a measure of solace, though they did little to assuage the ever-present gnawing of anxiety. As sleep finally claimed me, I wondered if I could truly navigate the labyrinthine complexities that lay ahead and uphold my promise to Emboru. Or would I succumb to the pressure and abandon all hope, leaving behind those who relied on me? I made a mental note to discuss a fraction of my concerns with Marianne tomorrow. But for now, I indulged in a moment of peace as I watched her sleep, an angelic vision amidst the chaos of my thoughts. Carefully, I climbed into my bunk without disturbing her. Wrapped in scratchy sheets, I felt myself drifting towards sleep. But just as my mind was about to shut off, I was overcome by chilling sensations, as if icy fingers were tracing my body. Mothersworn peacekeepers, I seethed internally, unable to shake their vile faces from the back of my mind. They had threatened me with a collar! I doubted I had heard the end of it, though I supposed they would employ an actual strategy in the future. I wondered if there was any way I could use this to my favor. Slowly, my anger subsided and the phantom pains faded away, allowing me to finally surrender to sleep with the image of Marianne''s peaceful face as my guiding light. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (3/9)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
  • Stealth I (6/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (5/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver I (1/9)
    • Evasion I (1/9)
      • Impending Sense (1/9)
    • Lucky Break (1/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (3/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.2.3.1 The gloom at the back of the tavern fit my mood just fine as I took my breakfast. If someone were to ask, which were more interesting, the stained and grimy wooden table, or my cream laden porridge, I would easily answer the table. As I continued prodding my porridge, I almost chortled, thinking about how ¡®porridge¡¯ was a misnomer. Marianne was the one that pointed it out, that my bowl contained more cream than anything else. When I had first tried doing this, it had been a necessary compromise that almost worked. The cream made it almost tolerable. But days later, my stomach churned and roiled with dissatisfaction, yearning for the taste of something more substantial. Most likely meat. The craving gnawed at me like a ravenous beast, causing me to question my very nature. No, my stomach definitely craved meat. It seemed more and more that bits of my non-humanity were poking through the Guise. I worried that it would fail. Could it fail? Given my luck, the spell could and would and at the least opportune of times. As these troubled thoughts swirled within my mind, my roommate Marianne Frostlight, she gracefully slid into the seat across from me. Not for the first time, my breath caught just slightly when I saw her, but not for the obvious reasons, not because of her ethereal beauty, nor her almost shimmering skin, or even her general icy allure. No, my breath caught because she reminded me of a sister lost. "Good morning," she said, resting her own porridge down. "And how do you find yourself on this fine day? I couldn''t help but notice you were up and at''em even before I got up! Weren''t you working late last night? I never knew you were a morning person. In fact, from how you''ve acted in the past." She continued speaking non-stop. This was perhaps the reason she reminded me of my sister. Not for the first time, I lamented my shoddy memories. Even my sister''s face slipped my mind. "Ah..." I said, trailing off, once Marianne paused speaking. "It... it went well enough?" In truth, I had meant to ask her for advice, and to see what she thought of those mothersworn peacekeepers. "Good morning, by the way." Her keen eyes must have picked up on my mood; they lingered on my uneaten porridge. She furrowed her brow slightly. With a hint of concern lacing her words, she gently inquired, "Is everything going well? You seem uncharacteristically pensive this morning. Did you ever turn in last night? I had thought I saw you, but it might have been a dream..." "A good dream, I hope?" I asked, forcing my mouth to quirk up in a slight smile. "At least if I was in it..." Her brow furrowed further. "Jackie..." she trailed off. "What''s wrong? What happened? Was it the peacekeepers last night?" "You heard about that already?" I asked, surprised. I wondered who Marianne had gotten that choice piece of gossip from. "A little," she said, waggling her hand side to side, before she deflated. "Truth be told, I was listening in to your encounter from our room. The windows were open, and I had trouble sleeping, and did they really accost you like that?! I couldn''t believe it! The absolute knaves!" "Ah," I said, wondering how to approach this. On one hand, Marianne seemed to be a tender soul, one I would hate overburdening. But on the other hand, she already knew at least a little of it, and likely it would come out sooner rather than later. I might as well get in front of it. "Did you... hear of anything else last night then?" I asked. "No... ?" she held her head askew. "What else happened? Something else happened?!" I winced. "Jackie! Tell me this instant what happened or I¨C" "Alright, alright!" I hurried before she drowned me in another flood of words. "You''ll be hearing about it soon anyways..." I paused, taking in her expression. "And I could use some advice." Her eyes were still narrowed. "Uh-huh," she said, crossing her arms and leaning back against the wall. "Spill." I swallowed. This was uncharacteristically intense for her. So before she took some ill-thought out and draconian action, I began to tell her the most pertinent details. Naturally, I added a theatrical flair to it, to hopefully rob the actual horror from the events. "Last night," I began, my voice a mere whisper, with myself bending partway over the table, "I found myself entangled in a confrontation with the peacekeepers." "Yeah?" Marianne said, leaning forward slightly. "I knew that much. What else?" I smirked. "Their corruption was palpable... Their intentions nefarious. They demanded what I was unwilling and unable to give! They leveled dastardly threats¨C" I noticed Marianne''s lips curling upwards, if slightly. I found myself getting into the story as I went, having likely more fun than I should have. But Marianne was nodding along, hanging off my words. It came with a sense of empowerment. And the attention was not unwelcome either. From a platonic perspective. "-and then they fled, to conspire and plot their vile... plots? But! But, that was not all," I added. "Are you familiar with the name, ''Samuel Grant?''" Marianne twisted her lips slightly before nodding, "I think so. One of the important humans here?" My eyes narrowed just slightly. Once again, I was taken by her ethereal, almost shining skin. And her blue hair was most definitely not common, from what I have seen. I nodded slowly. "He''s apparently a cousin to the baron," I said. "By foul chance, or malicious preparations, he was mugged soon after the peacekeepers left. A bit too quickly to be coincidental, I think." "Did the peacekeepers¨C?" Marianne asked in a hushed voice. I shook my head. "No, at least not directly..." "But?" Marianne asked. "Go on! Spill!" "I think they purposefully sent some lowlifes this way," I explained my suspicions. "On the Hill?!" Marianne gasped. "They wouldn''t! Did you get any proof, by chance? If so, we could get the Low Knights in on this. It would be a scandal!" Her eyes shined. I shook my head once again. "The thugs were killed when I rescued Samuel, so there was no asking them. And of course, there was no proof. At least not that I found. I did hear them talking though. They had not targeted Samuel directly, but were just grabbing whatever patron they could find. Between that, and the timing, it was suspicious." "Not proof though, you''re right." She frowned. "But still¨Cwhat were they even doing up here?! There''s at least one checkpoint, though maybe they came up through the sewers?" I shrugged and shook my head, having no idea just how they had snuck past the peacekeepers. I doubted all the peacekeepers were in on any single scheme, though I probably should avoid discounting that possibility. Maybe they were all working together? "I might be able to help figure this out," Marianne said, frowning. "What did the lowlifes look like? Any markings on them?" "Yeah," I said. "Armbands with a yellow ''P'' on each." "With one of the Pit Crews then," Marianne said slowly. "But this is far, far, outside their usual territory. They shouldn''t have been up here, not at all, at least not in that aspect of their business." The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Did Marianne have some ties to the criminal underworld here? If so, then she might be an invaluable ally in tracking down Emboru''s sibling. If I decided to trust her with something so big. The thought of doing so left me nervous. But maybe, maybe it was something we could work our way up to. I sighed heavily, perhaps dramatically. "Now I''m stuck trying to figure out how to deal with this," I said. "I was actually going to ask you this anyways this morning..." "Ask me what?" she asked, looking a mix of worried and complimented all at once, that seemed to meld into a general feeling of excitement. "What I should do? A part of me thinks this job might be too much heat. That I should disappear¨C" "You can''t!" she immediately protested. "Easy," I say, trying to wave her back down into her seat. "It''s not like I want to. But it might be for the best." When Marianne''s frown grew, I hurried to finish before another unseemly interruption. "This isn''t going to be the end of it. Who knows how they''ll escalate. If I stay here, then you and everyone else will stay in their crosshairs." "In their what?" Marianne asked. "Their sights. A target for their ire." "No," she said, shaking her head with absolute surety. "They''ll come after us regardless, now that it''s an issue. If you left, then, then... we''d be in an even worse spot of trouble! And besides--" her voice dropped low and quiet, so that I strained to hear "-there''s no guarantee they won''t follow you, or that some other crew won''t sell you out. You''ll be safest here. With us." I had not thought of that exactly. I blew out a heavy breath. "Well what should I do then?" I asked. She remained quiet for some time, considering, while I continued pushing my meal around. The cream was barely appetizing, and the porridge certainly was not. A sudden epiphany seemed to illuminate Marianne''s visage as she raised her head, her azure eyes reflecting a newfound hope. "You''ve an idea?" I asked her, somewhat amused by her mercurial attitude. "Yes! Esmerelda! I think..." she twisted her lips again as she thought it out, "I think she can definitely do something to help. Maybe getting you reassigned, or making it so it would be too scary to mess with you." "Esmerelda, scary?" I asked. "That''s not exactly what I think of when I think of her." A flashback to her in her freshly soiled silk bathrobe came to mind. "Ha... yeah... you''d be surprised," Marianne finished vaguely. I shrugged, not particularly caring to ask more, especially as it would likely come to light soon. And besides, Marianne''s thoughts were little different from my original plans to ask Esmerelda for help. And if Esmerelda was unable to give meaningful aid, then I could always leave later. "Just," Marianne said while reaching over and putting a cool hand upon my own, "Allow me to speak with her first, Jackie," Marianne suggested earnestly, her fingers entwined with mine in a gesture of solidarity. "I am certain that together, we can ensure your safety against these disgusting men. While keeping you your job here." "Very well," I acquiesced, nodding, though keeping my voice barely above a whisper, fragile as a snowflake upon the breeze. "I place my trust in you and Esmerelda." At least, so far as they knew, and until a more necessary course of action made itself required. "Maybe with her guidance we''ll figure something out, afterall." "Yeah!" she said. "Just have faith, you''ll see! She''s really good." With the weight of our previous conversation still lingering in the air, Marianne shifted her focus to the uneaten porridge before me. The mushy grains glistened with cream, their blandness a stark contrast to my tumultuous thoughts. "Jackie," Marianne inquired delicately, casting a sidelong glance at my neglected meal. "Is there something wrong with your food? Your appetite still seems diminished. Do you still not have an appetite, after last night? I suppose I wouldn''t be too surprised. Or is it the cream? Too much?" I looked down at the bowl, the very sight of the porridge igniting a gnawing hunger that had only been growing. I needed meat. But it seemed meat was uncommon here in Southbridge, and I hesitated, wary of revealing this facet of my identity to Marianne, lest it cast me in an even more deviant light. But then again, maybe Marianne would hold her judgment? If she was even human to begin with? And her reaction would help measure her dependability. I decided to go with it. "Truth be told, Marianne," I began tentatively, my voice laced with trepidation. "My current cravings lean towards... more carnivorous fare." I braced myself, awaiting her reaction with bated breath. Marianne''s eyes widened momentarily, betraying a flicker of surprise, but her features quickly softened into understanding. It seemed that she, too, was no stranger to harboring secrets and concealing aspects of her true self. "Ah, I see," she murmured sympathetically, her tone devoid of judgment. "Well, nothing wrong with that! We all have our peculiarities when it comes to our inclinations - culinary or otherwise..." she looked off to the space above me, seemingly remembering something other at her words. "Well¨C" she clapped. "No worries! So you want some meat with your meal? Truth be told, it''s not that uncommon elsewhere¨Cjust not the norm here. It''s not strange at all, I promise." Relief washed over me like a soothing balm, assuaging my fears and bolstering my resolve. If I were to stand any chance of accomplishing my mission ¨C seeking information on behalf of Emboru and his sibling ¨C I would need to place my trust in Marianne and embrace the vulnerability that entailed. "Thank you, Marianne," I whispered, probably making a bigger deal of this than I should have, or would have normally. But I was building on the foundation of our relationship here, and I needed to make sure that keeping my secrets was rewarded. "Your acceptance means more to me than you could ever know," I finished, doing my best to avoid sounding as lame as I thought I did. "Of course, Jackie," she replied warmly, her azure gaze shimmering with sincerity. "But you know, if it''s meat you need, Cook has a private pantry full of it. You may recall partaking in such a feast during your inaugural evening under this roof, although your memories may be clouded by an excessive indulgence in spirits." Oh. Somehow, I had forgotten about that. But Marianne had already seen me eat meat, at least once. Was my memory beginning to slip? The thought that it might be was terrifying, and not completely unrealistic, so far as fears went. Afterall, I had already forgotten most of my life from before. And there was magic in this world. "Huh," I said, lacking eloquence. "That is... huh. You know, I had forgotten about that." "Not surprising, considering how much you drank," Marianne said, snorting a quick laugh. "But if you really need meat, then go talk to Cook! She keeps a pantry to herself, given her... you know... nature? Yeah, that. See if you can get her to share somehow." "You know?" I asked, pushing my bowl aside, "I''ll go do that right now. Thanks for reminding me!" "No problem!" She called after me. So, with newfound determination, I ventured forth toward the bustling kitchen, its cacophony of sounds and scents assaulting my senses as I crossed the threshold. There, amidst the steam and sizzle, I beheld the cat-like humanoid, the Kaivan nicknamed Cook, her feline visage contorted in ire as she berated her hapless assistant, Anne. "Little Anne!" Cook roared, her voice a veritable tempest of fury. "How many times must this one remind the proper technique for preparing these tubers? This should be easy! Or perhaps it is foolish thoughts of boys that fill your mind? Perhaps your dream is to work in the brothel, at least, if any men would have your flesh?" As Cook''s wrathful tirade continued, I hesitated, my heart hammering within my chest as I contemplated the wisdom of interrupting her explosive outburst. If I were honest with myself, Cook scared me, at least a little. Yet, fortified by my gnawing hunger, I steeled myself for the confrontation that lay ahead. "Excuse me, Cook," I interjected, my voice carrying unfelt confidence. "I heard I might convince you to open your stocks of meat?" At my words, Cook''s ire towards Anne seemed to dissipate like fog. Her gaze fell upon me, her reflective green eyes weighing me. Until finally, she spoke. "And why would this one share? Will there be payment, this one wonders?" "Payment?¡± I asked, licking my lips. ¡°What¡­ what sort of payment are you after?" I hoped not more rats. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (3/9)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
  • Stealth I (6/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (5/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver I (1/9)
    • Evasion I (1/9)
      • Impending Sense (1/9)
    • Lucky Break (1/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (3/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.2.3.2 "Payment?¡± I asked, licking my lips. ¡°What¡­ what sort of payment are you after?" I was not prepared emotionally to head back down into the cellars to deal with her rat problem, at least not currently. I hoped she had something else in mind. But when her sharp eyes roved over me, and her whiskers quivered, I grew concerned. When I saw Anne over Cook''s shoulder shaking her head and mouthing, "Don''t do it!" I began to regret making my request for meat. I could have found it elsewhere, really. In a city this large, there must have been an enclave of carnivores somewhere. "Yes, a small favor." Cook paused, listening as my stomach growled. "Or a not so small one, depending on your appetites. My larder is only so full." After my adventures the night before, my appetite this morning had only grown, and it seemed that nothing but meat would satisfy it. I imagined that this was similar to cravings that pregnant women were known to have. I imagined that there were several nutrients in meat that my body required, nutrients not available in the usual grains and dairy. Still, though. Even with my appetites, even with the fatigue and light-headedness, I was not prepared to agree to an open ended favor. I frowned, and was about to retreat from the conversation, when Cook spoke once more. "Young kit, do not look so worried," Cook said, smiling in that feline way of hers. My ears prickled when she called me a kit. Did she know? I sincerely hoped my Guise was better than this. "The favor would not be so impossible for one of your ability..." In the background, Anne was now gesturing with her arms making a clear ''X'' over and over while shaking her head. Concerning, but I was unsure if Anne was serious or not. I had a hard time reading her personality. "What would be the nature of this favor?" I asked. "And why did you call me kit?" I finished, unable to resist. "As if the answer is not known already, kit. But this one will not tell." She knew! But how? Was my identity at risk? From the way she carried herself, I doubted it, but nothing was set in stone. What gave me away? Was it the meat? Or something else. Perhaps a scent? I wished I could ask, but there was the off-chance that she really did not know and was speaking of something else. Anne seemed confused by the response at least. But that would make sense since Anne lacked context that the Kaiva chef apparently had. Mother take it all! My stomach rumbled once again. Green stars floated in my vision. It grew difficult to focus, and daydreams of hamburgers and steaks and glazed hams began to accost me. "As for the favor?" Cook continued. "Does the kit truly have a choice?" Blackmail? I wondered. Or was she referring to my hunger? Either way, she was correct. My choices were limited. But it would be foolish to cave without making a show of consideration. If I acted in obvious desperation, more so than my stomach betrayed, then Cook might exploit me further than she already could. "Is there a better place to find meat?" I asked, making a show of empty consideration. "Surely there must be others that eat meat in this cesspit of a city." Some venom unintentionally leaked into my voice. "Truly, this is asked?" Cook chuffed in amusement. "No. These furless apes have no stomach. Their stock sourced from rodents or meohrs at best. Besides..." Cook led off, grinning and showing her needle sharp teeth, "Your choices are limited, yes?" I groaned but nodded. It seemed my act was seen through, or Cook simply did not care. "This is agreed, then," Cook said. Before Cook turned back towards her kitchen, Anne quickly stopped miming and went back to peeling what looked like yams. Cook chuffed again, seeing her assistant at work. "As though this one lacks ears," Cook muttered. From what I could tell, Cook might have a sharp tongue towards Anne, but there was no real heat to their relationship. Otherwise Cook would have done more than mutter that complaint, instead of just shaking her head as she went. Cook kept going all the way to the back most corner of the kitchen, where a dinged up cold cabinet stood. She opened it and rummaged around before pulling out a package wrapped in butcher paper, one about the size of two decks of cards pressed together. "...and, here." She brought the package back and handed it to me. It was cold, and partially stained red. "This should tide you over for now." "Thanks?" I respond, unsure as I bring the package up to my nose. My stomach twisted again in hunger, and my mouth began to salivate. "Oh?" Cook asked. "Should this one take the flesh back then?" Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. "I mean, thank you!" I forced myself to enthuse. "Mm. Then begone from my kitchen until the morrow." I nodded and turned to depart. As I walked through the door, I realized that the meat might not be cooked. Voicing my concern, I called back, "is it still raw?" Cook scoffed. "Of course. Your teeth seem firm enough. Now go!" I grimaced and kept going, trying to figure out if there was a quick way to prepare the meat, and if it was worth sneaking back into the kitchen, when I heard Anne snort a laugh from somewhere behind me. It may have been pride, but I decided then and there to take the meat and keep going. I did not pause until I reached the same table that Marianne and I normally ate at, at the back of the tavern. By the time I returned, Marianne had finished her own breakfast and had begun preparing for the day. She waved towards me, but otherwise kept going about her duties, leaving me in relative peace. Which was good. Because what I was about to do would likely be somewhat ugly. It was a mark of my desperate hunger that I was even considering doing this. I set the package on the table, noticing that my porridge had already been cleaned up, likely thanks to Marianne. I glanced her way, making sure she was looking elsewhere. When I determined I was in private, or private enough, I unwrapped the paper. Blood. A small shank of red meat. My teeth itched. My tongue felt too big, or my mouth too small. I felt my Spell straining to hold myself together. Having the meat so close was too much. If I did nothing, I was sure to be revealed. Guise of the Kitsune: 4/9 (+1) Fortunately, I could fix this easily enough. I lifted the meat to my lips, tongue darting out and licking across the striations, tasting the coppery goodness. My teeth parted, I slipped the slimy cold mass in... ...The first bite was ecstasy, the tender flesh melting on my tongue like a forbidden delicacy. I tore into the meat ravenously, each morsel sending shivers of satisfaction down my spine. It was unlike anything I''d ever tasted before; rich and flavorful, yet carrying with it an inexplicable air of unease. I lost myself in it, soon finishing my meal, and sitting there for an unknown amount of time, with blood smeared across my hands and face. That was how Esmerelda found me. "Jackie?" came Esmerelda''s voice from the doorway, startling me out of my carnivorous reverie. My cheeks burned with shame as I hastily cleaned up, using a rag that I had failed to notice earlier to wipe away the evidence of my... well, of my indulgence. "Esmerelda," I stammered, my heart pounding in my chest. "I didn''t hear you come over." "Clearly," she replied dryly, her eyes taking in the remnants of my feast, the red butcher paper that had served as my plate. "You''ve been eating well, I see." There was something in her tone that sent a shiver of foreboding down my spine, though I couldn''t quite place why. "From Cook?" "Y-yes," I admitted, unable to suppress the tremor in my voice. "Cook gave me some of her personal larder." "Ahhh," Esmerelda nodded, her expression inscrutable. "Well, I hope it was worth whatever she charged you for it. It''s definitely different from what most of the meat stalls will sell." Meat stalls? "Are they nearby?" I asked, a mixture of hope and regret. Regret for going to see Cook instead of a meat vendor. Hope, because I was still hungry. "Close enough," she said with a grin. "We''ll pass by a few markets and taverns on our way to the Merc''s Quarter." "Huh?" I replied, confused. She rolled her eyes at my confusion. "I suppose an explanation is in order?" she said with an amused tone. I nodded slowly, feeling foolish for not understanding. "That would be helpful," I admitted. "I''ll explain as we walk," she said, her voice laced with excitement. "We don''t want to be late for your training." "But what kind of training is it?" I asked as I got up from where I had been sitting. "Guess," she challenged me playfully, already starting towards the bustling city streets ahead of us. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (3/9)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
  • Stealth I (6/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (5/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver I (1/9)
    • Evasion I (1/9)
      • Impending Sense (1/9)
    • Lucky Break (1/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (4/9) (+1)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.2.3.3 "But what kind of training is it?" I asked as I got up from where I had been sitting. "Guess," she challenged me playfully, already starting towards the bustling city streets ahead of us. "Come on, Esmerelda," I implored, following after her. "How is this going to help; just where are we going?" A part of me wondered if they were planning on getting rid of me down in the Merc Quarter, but that was not the feeling I got from her. She was far too friendly and jovial for that. But then again, I had seen evidence of her actress credentials. Would I even know if she was leading me on? I would like to hope so. "Maybe I should ask Marianne then?" I mentioned, slowing down, and making a show of turning back towards Ma''Ritz. Esmerelda scoffed, almost laughed. "You could... but then you''d miss out on an amazing opportunity." "Opportunity?" "What else? It''s nothing terrible..." she trailed off, frowning, and revisiting her words in an obvious fashion, before shaking her head and rephrasing. "It''s nothing that will hinder your potential, let''s put it that way." "You know, I think I''ll head back inside and¨C" "If you do then we''ll be late! Or, did you just want to miss this altogether?" "You still haven''t told me what ''this'' is." "I did too," she smirked. "It''s an opportunity, and time is wasting!" She made a show of charging forward, making me jog to catch up. Her longer legs made for a quick stride that I struggled to match casually. The winding road unfurled before us, flanked by opulent structures and the elite academy I''d only ever dreamed of attending. Fine shops, their windows displaying tantalizing wares, lined the street like proud soldiers. Despite my gnawing curiosity, I couldn''t help but feel a sense of awe as we traversed this world I''d once thought beyond my reach. The air was heavy with the scent of food, yet nothing truly called out to my ravenous appetite. It seemed as if the market district catered solely to those with refined palates, offering skewers adorned with nothing more than sad-looking vegetables. My stomach grumbled its disapproval, a protest I could hardly ignore. "Really? Vegetables?" I muttered to myself, unable to suppress a grimace. I cast a sidelong glance at Esmerelda, who only offered me a knowing smile in return. "Plenty of people enjoy roots and grains," she said. "But perhaps not you." "I thought you said there would be meat vendors along the way, not--" I waved my hand at the sliced and grilled peppers "-this." "Patience," she said. "Though I myself am having second thoughts. It might be best not to have an overly full stomach." My stomach did not like the sound of that. Or maybe that was me personifying my own biology so that I could avoid the accountability of my own actions. No, I decided. I could not be blamed for my body''s actions. As we continued our journey through the upscale market district, I found my thoughts drifting back to my own past. What would Mother think of all this? She would love it. The city was rife with opportunity, only depending on how saturated the underworld was. Either way, she would have infiltrated and taken over. She was canny like that, and her actions always built towards her goals. Some of those actions were terrible enough that they left me cringing. I turned my thoughts away from them, wishing they could have remained forgotten. In somewhat of a mood, I asked, "Esmerelda, do you ever wonder how different things might have been if our parents had made different choices?" "You know, Jackie, this isn''t the first time a young girl has asked me something like that. I''ll tell you what I told her. The past cannot ever be changed. Honor those who came before, remember them, but avoid dwelling. Focus on the here and now, on what you can affect. It helps, I promise you that." Her words might have been accurate, but they hardly told me how to put it all behind me. And the idea of honoring my Mother? Outrageous. I thought that the situation between me and the girl she spoke to must have been very different indeed. I put it behind me though. That part was useful in concept at least, if difficult to put into practice. For now though, I followed Esmerelda. The air around us grew thick with the mingled scents of steam and soot as we approached the checkpoint. A sense of unease crept up my spine, settling like a shroud over my shoulders. It was one thing to leave Blossom Hill, where the people and customs were familiar; it was quite another to venture beyond its borders into the unknown. Especially when the peacekeepers monitored the checkpoint. Especially when the Pit Crew could have been waiting beyond the hill. Both parties had reasons to seek vengeance against me. As though sensing my justified unease, Esmerelda murmured, "stay close," as we neared the chokepoint where the street met the rest of the Square. "Stay close," Esmerelda murmured, her voice low and steady. I nodded, swallowing the knot of anxiety that had formed in my throat. The peacekeepers at the gate¡ªhardened men with hollow eyes and hands stained by years of violence¡ªcut imposing figures in their dark uniforms. We passed them without incident; indeed, they seemed to regard us with something akin to indifference. Leaving Blossom Hill was always easy, after all. It was getting back in that required credentials¡ªand, more often than not, a bribe. "We got lucky," I said. "Oh?" Esmerelda asked. "I didn''t recognize any of those men. And they didn''t seem to recognize me." "That''s usually the case," Esmerelda replied. "New faces come and go. But they all serve the same purpose¡ªto line their own pockets and stoke their own egos. Remember, Jackie: ''honest dues for honest work.''" "And here I thought their purpose was to serve the baron." "Maybe on paper," Esmerelda said. Thoughts of the peacekeepers and their corruption were soon swept away by the vibrant chaos that awaited us on the other side of the checkpoint, where merchants hawked their wares with a fervor that bordered on desperation, and the clamor of haggling voices filled the air like music. "Esmerelda, look!" I exclaimed, drawn to an out-of-the-way stall that seemed to promise something far more enticing than the bland vegetable skewers we''d encountered earlier. My stomach growled in anticipation, and I felt a sudden, almost primal urge to sate my hunger. "Ah, yes," she said with a knowing smile, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "I thought you might find this place more to your liking." As we approached the stall, I could hardly contain my excitement, the prospect of a hearty meal momentarily eclipsing my lingering fears and unanswered questions. "I''m surprised you''re hungry already," Esmerelda said. "I would have figured the tavern or Cook would have kept you fed. And you had just eaten less than an hour ago." My appetite surprised me as well. When I thought of maybe holding off and denying myself another meat laden meal, my false arm almost seemed to protest, with the tendrils it had wrapped around my bones and connection points tightening and squeezing briefly. That may have just been my hunger speaking though. It was a hungry day. While we stood there, and while the flavors and scents of spiced grilling meats wafted past us, as we approached the vendor that had no line, Esmerelda raised an interesting point. "Jackie, did you happen to bring any Cee to pay for anything?" Esmerelda inquired as her eyes danced across the array of skewers displayed at the stall before us. The rich aroma of sizzling meat infused the air, tantalizing my senses and igniting a hunger within me that I hadn''t realized was so insistent. The vendor, a hefty looking man with a stained and greasy apron was leering at her as she asked that. "It''s ten Cee a stick," he grunted, before spitting to the side. The man himself disgusted me, so why then were his wares enticing? Ignoring him and that odd paradox, I focused on Esmerelda''s question. And what an embarrassing question she asked! "Uh, no, I don''t," I responded sheepishly, feeling the weight of my empty pockets like a physical burden. "I wasn''t exactly expecting to go on a shopping excursion today. And you didn''t tell me what we were coming here for." "Here''s a free lesson then," Esmerelda said while chuckling. "Always carry some Cee when you go out. You''ll never know who you''ll need to bribe." "Ain''t that the truth," the meat vendor said, making a gross hawking sound. "Now, you gonna buy or scram? Scarin'' away the rest of the crowd." I glanced around, seeing there was still nobody else in line, though I decided to let it rest and just assume he wanted us to hurry up and buy. "Ah, well then, consider this an advance on your first paycheck," Esmerelda said, plucking a few glowing coins from her own purse and placing them in my palm. "Go on, treat yourself to something delicious." This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The warmth of the crystals embedded in the metal disks sent a shiver down my spine as I pointed out the thickest looking skewer that was also the juiciest and least cooked. "Gotta pay first, git." I put two fivers, Cees engraved with a five, into the gross man''s outstretched hands. "Pleasure," he said, almost snorting, placing the stick in my hand and touching the meat with his bare hand in the process. I grimaced at the unsanitary practice, but took the meat stick all the same. "Now scram! Git on outta here girl. Less you wanna--" "We''re going!" I called back over my shoulder as I hastily retreated. "Friendly gentlemen," Esmerelda said, amused. Upon taking my first bite, I was instantly struck by the stark contrast between the succulent morsels on my skewer and the tough, gamy fare Cook had been serving back at our establishment. "What sort of meat''s this?" I asked after several bites. "Not what Cook had." "I''d think not!" Esmerelda seemed amused by my question. "That''s probably meohr that you''re eating now. Cook has very particular... tastes, as you might have noticed. But there''s a whole world of culinary delights out there, just waiting to be discovered." She winked. As I finished the last morsel of apparently meohr, licking the savory juices from my fingertips, I couldn''t help but ponder the implications of Esmerelda''s words. She of course had no clue, but this world was new to me; a vast and tantalizing realm filled with uncharted flavors, experiences, and challenges. And here I was, stuck in Southbridge. I would have to see about trying out a few new things, so long as the experimentation is safe and not too distracting from Emboru. My false-arm squeezed my collarbone in agreement. Or disagreement. Or by chance. I had trouble telling. Belatedly, I realized Esmerelda still waited for a response. So I gave her one, with only some faked emotion. "Thank you," I murmured. "For everything." "Of course, Jackie," Esmerelda replied, her eyes filled with a fierce determination that only served to strengthen my resolve. "Remember, we are forging our own paths now, carving out a future that is uniquely ours. And it all starts with the choices we make today. Never get hung up in the past." As I stood there, chewing thoughtfully on the remnants of my skewer, I wondered if Esmerelda was perhaps talking to herself as well as me. We reached the Merc Quarter mid-morning, navigating through crowds and feeling the occasional bump. The sounds of clanging metal, shouting merchants, and fights filled the air as we made our way through the tall gray stone buildings. Banners bearing mercenary group symbols fluttered in the breeze while buyers and sellers haggled over prices in the crowded streets. Among all of this, Esmerelda led us towards a wide and open courtyard that was marked with the symbol of the High Guard. "Here we are," Esmerelda said, breathing both in and out deeply, her voice barely audible above the din of the bustling marketplace. "The heart of it all." Beyond the typical scent of stale urine and trace amounts of fecal matter, the air was thick with the scent of leather, metal, and sweat. Everywhere I looked, there were people¨Chardened mercenaries and grizzled warriors, each bearing the scars and trophies of battles won and lost. "Come on," Esmerelda said, gently prodding me forward with a firm hand on my shoulder. "Your instructor awaits." When we reached the courtyard, I could see it was covered in finely ground dirt, with a mix of lines chalked onto it, marking practice rings and target ranges. "You still haven''t said what they''ll be teaching." "Isn''t it obvious?" she smirked. At this point, it was. She caught one of the paige-boys, teenagers wearing the colors of the knights, but still too young to officially join (I assumed, but did not verify). "Is Instructor Blackrest available?" she asked. "Want me to fetch him, ma''am?" the paige-boy asked. "Think he''s waitin'' on someone rich an'' fancy. That you?" he finished, giving her a once over. "Sometimes," she said, laughing. "Will he be along shortly then?" "Soon, soon, I''ll let ''im know!" the paige-boy said as he scurried off. "Could improve his manners some," Esmerelda said, watching the paige-boy leave. "But it''s part of the parcel, I suppose." A few minutes later, we were approached by a grizzled looking veteran. "Over here, Phillip!" Esmerelda called, waving Phillip, Instructor Blackrest, over. As he drew nearer, I was able to get a better look at him. Phillip''s face was rugged and weathered, with deep lines etched into his skin. His piercing gaze spoke of many battles fought and won. He was clad in tattered leather armor adorned with the emblem of a knight emeritus, showing his years of service. His once-mighty frame was now slightly stooped, but still held an air of authority and strength. His sole remaining eye appeared sharp and brown, while the other had been covered by an eye-patch. "Jackie, I''d like you to meet your new instructor!" Esmerelda announced. "And Phillip, I''d like you to meet one of my newest girls, Jackie." Esmerelda continued, stepping back to allow us both a proper appraisal of one another. "She''s under my tutelage now, and I expect you to treat her with the same respect and dedication you''d afford any other student." "Understood," Blackrest is voice like gravel in a cement mixer. "So, Jackie, I doubt you''re looking to be a true warrior, nor covered in blood and glory. What brings you hear? Self-defense? Protection of your honor? Or something less?" I hesitated, my mind racing as I tried to formulate a response that would convey both eagerness and humility. But before I could speak, Esmerelda interjected. "Jackie could very well be a true warrior," she declared, her unwavering confidence in me causing no small amount of consternation and concern. "Aren''t you, Jackie?" I winced, but was forced to respond. "I could," I said, almost stammering. Unhappy with the impression of weakness, I tried to answer again, straightening my spine and squaring my shoulders. "I am." "Good," Phillip said, nodding once as he pushed away from the wall. "Then let''s begin by finding you the right knife." "Why a knife?" I asked, following him and Esmerelda as he led us towards a wall lined with pegs and all sorts of wooden practice weapons along with several barrels full of wooden swords and staves. "A slip of a girl like you?" he scoffed. "What else would ya carry? Not a sword, if that''s what you''re thinkin''." "The most useful weapon is the one you carry," Esmerelda replied. "Right. Can''t be unwieldy, and''ll hafta slip under yer tunic or dress or what have you. Hence, a knife." He pulled what could have been called a dagger from the wall and held it against my forearm. While a knife was undoubtedly effective, I was hesitant to choose training in one. While it was true, I already had a knife, but I was dissatisfied with whenever I had to use it. I still remembered Red bleeding out, and I shuddered every time I saw her face paling. "Maybe something besides a knife?" I asked. "Why?" Phillip asked snidely. "Too good for it? Just who''d you bring me to train?" he asked Esmerelda. "Hush, Phillip dear. Give her a chance to answer." "Well alright, I guess. Why?" "It''s too close and personal," I answered truthfully. Something similar to sympathy, or at the very least recognition, flashed in his eyes. "Aye, well it''s true enough that the last place anyone wants to be is a knife fight. But you don''t have many options here. Bows take too much strength and''ll never fit anywhere. Some crossbows are collapsible, so those might work, maybe, but''re still clunky. Artificed weapons, maybe, if those weren''t outlawed for anyone but the law. Don''t have many options left." I was scanning the wall all the time, and one weapon did stick out from the rest. Most notable for its lack of obvious lethality, along with its definite elegance, and all the ways it could be concealed. In fact, looking at it, I was unsure if it could be called a weapon at all. "What about that?" I said, pointing at a roll of stiff but silky ribbon hanging from a peg. "Ha!" Phillip guffawed. "No." "Why not?" I asked. "That ain''t a weapon girl, that''s a liability! Besides, it wouldn''t do much good to anyone without the years to learn it." "Unless they''re Marked," Esmerelda chimed in. "Well, yeah I guess. But who''d waste one on that when a perfectly good knife would work?" "Can I at least see how it would work? Or learn more?" "No." "Phillip, dear." Phillip began to go red in the face. "I said no!" "You owe me a favor," Esmerelda chided. "You wouldn''t be going--" "No, dammit all, ''course not. But it''s¨C" "Phillip." "Fine!" he threw up his hands. "If the girl wants to waste the morning getting her ass beat, then fine. Could use a good laugh. Ugh. Do a favor for someone, try an'' steer the youth a certain way, an--" "Perhaps you could provide a demonstration first?" Esmerelda asked. Phillip grimaced. "You can use one, yes? Is it due to a lack of ability?" "I''m a weaponsmaster," he responded curtly, almost sounding offended. "You know that." And then, in a smaller voice, ¡°Right? You know that?¡± "Yes, I know that,¡± Esmerelda said, smiling. ¡°But since that¡¯s the case, then what''s the issue?" she asked, swaying in closer and trailing a finger along the side of his stubble. "It''s embarrassing¡­" he sounded reluctant to share. "Using a ribbon, or the reason itself?" Esmerelda questioned. "Both." Phillip grimaced. "Ah. Well, only someone insecure in their masculinity would have reason to fear their peers for that, dear. And I am well experienced with your plentiful masculinity." I resisted the urge to gag. Not because of the blatant manipulation, but because Phillip was buying it. Disgusting. "Suppose it is impressive I can use it, if not masterfully¡­" Phillip mused. "That''s the spirit, Phillip!" Esmerelda cheered, clapping her hands. "Alright then,¡± Phillip spat to the side, striding towards the weapon in question. ¡°Watch closely girl. I''ll only be doing this the once." He took the ribbon off the wall and stepped into a cleared practice square. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (3/9)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
  • Stealth I (6/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (5/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver I (1/9)
    • Evasion I (1/9)
      • Impending Sense (1/9)
    • Lucky Break (1/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (4/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.3.2.4 The training courtyard in the Mercenary Quarter was an expanse of fine and stained sand, bordered on three sides with the fourth left open to the rest of the Quarter. It was not uncommon for passerby to stop and watch drills or practice spars, and I later found out it was a means of false transparency and recruitment. One of the walls of the courtyard was an entrance to the Low Knight''s barracks, the actual Crown appointed boots on the ground law keepers, which were completely separate from the baron and his men. One of the walls held a drinking trough and a well-used first aid session, where stained bandages littered the sand around a small pavilion. And the final wall, where the Instructor Phillip Blackrest now stood, was lined with practice weapons, including several exotic weapons, such as the spool of colored ribbon. "Oi, Kid!" Blackrest boomed out across the courtyard, snapping me from my thoughts. I had trouble maintaining eye-contact with him, due to his imposing eye-patch and horrific battle scars lining his face and neck. "What do you know of ribbon fighting?" The question took me aback. While attempting to ignore the unsightly visage, I gave a delaying answer. "Not much?" I replied, somewhat confused at where he was taking this. If I knew how to fight, would I have been brought here? I was beginning to have second thoughts about declining knives. The ribbon was sounding like more and more of a production the more I learned. I wondered why Esmerelda had gone along with the decision in the first place; surely she knew all of what the ribbon entailed. "Pfah! If I''m gonna show ya..." he grumbled, before he shouted, "Then why''d ya choose it?!" He began pacing the sparring weapons pointing out several alternatives. "If you don''t wanna spill blood, a mace coulda worked. Or a blackjack... A blow to the back of the neck or temple works just fine, no matter yer strength." I winced at the descriptor. From personal experience, I knew he was right. A foe that was unprepared for the strike was often felled, though not always non-lethally and not always bloodlessly. He had a point though, that a mace was easier to learn, though more difficult to hide. What he failed to consider due to his ignorance was that my false arm was already far more lethal than any bludgeon. I had no incentive to carry a mace or blackjack. Before I protested though, Esmerelda stepped in once again. "Phillip, dear," Esmerelda almost cooed. "Why are you still trying to get out of demonstrating the ribbon? You already said you would." He growled, catching the eye of several trainees who were watching on amused. He grimaced and spat. "And I will. But I just don''t see why ya''d want it... Nobody uses ''em--" he coughed "-well, nobody seriously uses ''em." "Please, Phillip..." Esmerelda said. "They embody grace. I can think of no better weapon skill for a young girl to take on, especially one who can already defend themselves." "That right?" he said, glancing towards me with speculation and doubt. "That slip of a girl can defend herself? Been in fights before?" "Yes," Esmerelda said. I worried she would recall the three dead muggers that I had left in my wake the previous night, but fortunately she did not; that likely would have been uncouth. "Then why''d you bring her here?" "Is it so wrong to seek out my favorite weapons trainer for company?" Esmerelda asked, batting her eyelashes. "Well," he coughed again. "Suppose it isn''t touch much outside of... Crown, I don''t even know where''s it taught. You sure I can''t train ya on using small blades?" he asked, prodding an entire shelf loaded with wooden knives of all sorts, including the dagger he had shown before." "Just do it already!" one of the knights shouted at Phillip. "We''re tired of you dilly-dallying. You gonna dance or not?!" "Shut it!" Phillip snapped in his growling voice. "Me n'' the lady are discussin''." "That''s what he calls it," another of the knights scoffed. Phillip''s face flushed in either anger or embarrassment, or possibly both. "You volunteerin'' to spar?" Phillip growled at the outspoken knight. "Nah, just here to watch," the knight replied casually. "What I thought..." Phillip grumbled, before turning back to Esmerelda and myself, showing us the spool of ribbon. The ribbon itself was two fingers wide, and as thick as a fingernail. It was maybe six feet long, and attached at the base to a wooden grip which served as a spool. The ribbon was made of some sort of linen like silk, and gleamed a gray-yellow. "Well, this here''s a fightin'' ribbon. On the shorter side, but it serves well enough here. If this is what you wanna fight with, you''ll end up gettin'' a better one, I''m sure." "Why keep such a low quality tool?" Esmerelda asked, frowning at the ribbon in disdain. I wondered if she had experience with the weapon type. "Ha." He gestured with his spool of ribbon. "It''s cuz we don''t typically train with them here." "Why keep one here if that''s the case?" Esmerelda asked. "Training on such a sub-par example cannot grow talent." "Well, it''s not here to give the boys weapons mastery of it. It''s cuz every once in a while some fool tries fightin'' a knight off with one of these exotic types, an'' we''d be godslickin'' cunts if we didn''t prepare our charges for it. You still wanna do this? Even after you''ve seen it?" "Please, Phillip," Esmerelda said with a coy smile. "While the tool may be lacking, do not undersell yourself. I''m sure you can make it work, at least this time." Phillip''s cheeks took on a minor flush, and he cleared his throat. "If we''re gonna do this, I need a partner. Else I''ll look the fool dancin'' and wavin'' this around." As word spread of the impending demonstration, knights began to gather at the edges of the training yard, their armor glinting menacingly in the weak sunlight. Laughter and crude jests filled the air, and I could see the anticipation in their expressions. Unfortunately, their good moods could easily be construed as demeaning. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Phillip glowered at the on watchers , "Oi!" he snapped. "Who''s gonna get their asses whipped by yer''s truly?" Several of the men shook their heads ruefully, but none of them stepped forward. "Come now," Blackrest growled, his voice laced with impatience as he surveyed the yard-rats before him. "Which one of you has the courage to face me in this little exhibition?" His challenge was met with averted gazes and shuffling feet, the yard-rats'' reluctance plain for all to see. It was not surprising; they knew full well the reputation that preceded the scarred instructor. To face him in combat, even in a demonstration, was a daunting prospect. "Is this truly the best Southbridge has to offer?" Blackrest sneered, his frustration mounting as he surveyed the cowering youths. "A pack of craven whelps too afraid to test their mettle against an old man?" His words stung, but the yard-rats remained unmoved, their fear of being cut down by Blackrest''s skill outweighing any indignation at his taunts. A heavy tension settled over the courtyard like a shroud, smothering any remaining traces of merriment as the gathered knights shifted uneasily, their amusement replaced with a growing sense of unease. "Enough of this nonsense!" Blackrest barked, his tone seething with barely-contained fury as he slammed a fist into his open palm. The sound echoed through the courtyard, a sharp crack that reverberated off the surrounding walls and sent a shiver down my spine. "If none of you have the spine to face me, then I''ll pick one of you at random!" Several men coughed and shuffled their feet, while others playfully pushed their comrades forward, only for those same comrades to lean back and merge with the gathering on-lookers. I had to wonder, why were they all so hesitant to spar with Instructor Blackrest. Was it the man, or the ribbon that was scaring them away? Just who had Esmerelda convinced to train me? Blackrest was about to point one of the onlookers out, when movement caught his eye, coming from the Mercenary Quarter. He almost looked relieved. Several of us turned to see what drew his gaze. A familiar girl entered from the Merc Quarther with a boisterous laugh. All eyes turned towards the entrance, and I saw her ¨C Sir Kate Guardson, the Captain''s daughter. She strode into the yard with purpose, her tall, stocky frame exuding confidence. Her bluish skin seemed to shimmer in the sunlight, and her bluish-blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, revealing her startlingly cyan eyes. My guts squirmed at her sight; I remembered her carrying me when I had been too weak to walk. I also remembered her collaring me, and treating me like a pet. What was she doing here? I wondered. The chatter of the gathered knights died down as Kate approached, her determined gaze sweeping over the scene before her. She appeared unfazed by the disruption in her usual training routine, but an air of anticipation swirled around her like a charged storm cloud. "Sir Kate," Blackrest called out, his voice firm but carrying a hint of hope. "I see you have arrived just in time." "Have I? I heard your ruckus while still out in the Quarter," Kate replied, her eyes lingering on me before she finished walking towards him. "Just what''re you shouting about now, old man?" "Ah, well," Blackrest hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced at the onlookers. "I was asked to demonstrate a weapon, and these louts seem to be somewhat... reluctant." "Reluctant?" Kate echoed, her lips quirking into a faint smile as she studied the cowering yard-rats. "Or simply afraid?" she finished as she latched her eyes onto the ribbon. "I didn''t know you danced." "I don''t," Phillip said, chagrined. "But I''m a weapons master. I can at least use them." "True enough," Kate conceded. "So you need a sparring partner, and none of these other cowards are up to it?" she grinned. "And who, or why, might I ask, are you demonstrating it at all." "For his lady friends!" one of the knights barked, causing several of the men to laugh. "Quiet!" Phillip snapped. Kate cocked half a grin and gestured towards myself and Esmerelda, almost winking. "That would be them, then?" She frowned when her eyes lingered on me. "Seems somewhat young for you." "Not her!" Phillip snapped. "I''m doing this as a favor for the other one." "Ah... and she wants you to teach her... friend?" Kate trailed off, unsure of how to describe my relationship with Esmerelda. "Aye." "Taking on a new pupil then?" Kate asked. "If that''s the case, I''ll need to spend more time in the training yard!" she laughed, her eyes once more lingering on me. Did she recognize me? I feared. I was unsure how she would have, but she was definitely giving me an undue amount of attention. It left me ill at ease. "Ha! You already live here," Phillip barked. "Now, you ready to start?" "Just a moment," Kate said, approaching me. "I would want the name of the girl I''m trying to impress first." I blushed and hung my head, stammering. Had I introduced myself to Kate before? Would she recognize my name? I could hardly give her a false name, not with Esmerelda standing there. Why had I been so foolish as to introduce myself with my actual name at Ma''Ritz?! Why was I even there?! Esmerelda nudged me from the side, "I think she likes you." I could hear the smile on Esmerelda''s voice. "Well? Don''t just stand there blushing, answer!" "I--I''d rather not," I said. "Hm," Esmerelda spoke on my behalf, after Kate''s lingering silence. "Perhaps if you do well, Sir Kate." Kate chewed on her lower lip and nodded slowly. "Then I shall." She turned back to Blackrest. "Done with your flirtin''?" Blackrest asked. "Depends," Kate scoffed. "You ready to lose?" she asked, striding towards the weapons wall and pulling a wooden bastard sword from a barrel. "We''ll see ''bout that girl,¡± Phillip said, sending the ribbon out from the spool twirling around him. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (3/9)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
  • Stealth I (6/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (5/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver I (1/9)
    • Evasion I (1/9)
      • Impending Sense (1/9)
    • Lucky Break (1/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (4/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.3.2.5 "How seriously we taking this," Kate asked, readying her bastard sword in a high two handed guard, with her hands over head. She sank into her footwork, ready to either slash or parry. Blackrest held the ribbon loosely, with slack between his two grips. After his initial spin to unspool the material, he had quickly picked it back up. He eyed Kate''s hips warily. "You''ve been taught better than that girl," Blackrest chided. "When''s a spar ever not?" Kate scoffed, "When it''s meant for--" she darted forward, slashing downward from overhead while coming into a lunge "-demonstrations," she finished grunting. Blackrest generated a loop of slack in the ribbon as he pivoted, aiming to encompass the sword before snapping taught. Kate withdrew her sword before the ribbon tightened, using a backwards lunge to gain space, before quickly lunging forward again in a stab. Blackrest diverted the point of the blade with the stretch of ribbon between his hands, before snapping it out on a parabolic arc towards Kate. Surprisingly, Kate chose not to block or parry the ribbon, likely fearful of getting tangled, and instead dove into a roll. She came back up with an arc of her own, aiming at Blackrest''s waist in a bottom to top diagonal. Blackrest pivoted away, using the added momentum to swing the ribbon around him in a fanciful twirl that was almost reminiscent of ballet; except in this case the performer was a grisled and scarred man with an eyepatch. "Seems somewhat... fanciful," I murmured. Esmerelda, watching besides me, snorted. "But graceful. Imagine instead of Blackrest, that it were me. Or you. You can see the appeal?" I had to concede to that fact. Part of the disconnect in this situation was that Instructor Phillip Blackrest was dancing around with a ribbon. I was understanding his earlier hesitation more and more as the spar went on. "Jackie," Esmerelda murmured beside me, her voice soft and lilting. "Have you noticed how Kate keeps glancing at you? Even during this spar? She must find you absolutely distracting." I followed her gaze to where Kate fought, her bluish skin glistening with perspiration and her startlingly cyan eyes flicking toward me every so often. "What do you mean?" I asked, feigning ignorance. "Come now, Jackie, don''t play coy with me," Esmerelda chided gently, her ice-blue eyes twinkling with amusement. "You know very well what I mean. She''s clearly taken quite the interest in you." "Is that so?" I mused, watching as Kate deftly parried another knight''s strike, her wooden bastard sword slicing through the air like a razor-sharp blade. It was hard not to admire her prowess, even if it did send a shiver down my spine. "Indeed," Esmerelda replied, nudging me playfully in the ribs. "Perhaps you ought to indulge her curiosity, hm? There''s no harm in getting to know one another better." "Maybe," I hesitated, feeling a strange flutter in the pit of my stomach at the thought of engaging with Kate on a more personal level. "But I''m not sure if...you know." "Ah, Jackie," Esmerelda sighed, shaking her head. "There is much you have yet to learn about the intricacies of human interaction. Trust me when I say that it is not as daunting as you might think." "Easy for you to say," I muttered, watching as Kate dispatched yet another sparring partner with a swift, decisive blow. "True," she conceded with a wry smile. "But that does not mean you cannot learn to navigate these waters just as effectively. Besides, from what I''ve seen, Kate Guardson is hardly the type to bite." "Unless you cross her, of course," I added ruefully, recalling the way she had so effortlessly bested me in our earlier bout. "Then you might lose more than just a finger or two." Esmerelda laughed. She thought I was joking. Of course she did. I was already hopeful that Kate would forget me by the time her spar finished. Meanwhile, the spar was progressing at a strong pace. Blackrest had managed to fling the edge of the ribbon around Kate before whipping it back towards him, somehow catching Kate''s thigh. "Gods!" Kate swore, falling off balance as she tucked, jumped, and rolled to escape the snare. "Have nothing to do with it," Phillip mocked. "I''ll show you," Kate threatened, coming back in with a flurry of diagonals, from top right to down left then top left to down right. She came forward, slashing with each step in fury. "Impressive," Esmerelda murmured. "I''ve heard of Sir Kate''s ability..." I nodded absently, thinking back to all the times that I had personally witnessed her ability. Not that I could admit to doing so. "The fact Blackrest is not only holding her off, but winning, and with an off-skilled weapon at that... I think we''ve made the best decision," Esmerelda answered. In response to Kate''s offensive, Blackrest slipped back further, parrying when necessary with the slip of silk ribbon, pushing the blade just far enough away to prevent a cut. As he went, he released bits of the ribbon, so that it fluttered ahead of him, in his wake of retreat. I realized what was happening likely after Kate did, but by then it was too late, and the trap had been set. "I''ve told you not to overcommit," Blackrest grunted, snapping the spool upward, causing the ribbon to follow suit up between Kate''s legs and snagging her calf. Kate had one final chance to cut him down before her footing was all but lost. She might have tried pulling back and recovering, but she went all in, committing to an overextended strike that lacked the weight of her normal attacks. Blackrest used the handle of the spool to knock the wooden blade aside, and in the same upward motion, flicked his wrist so that a loop of ribbon went up and over Kate''s head. The onlookers cheered. With the ribbon wrapped around Kate''s leg and neck, Blackrest pulled with two hands, and sent Kate stumbling to the ground. He stepped on her practice sword and kicked it away, breathing hard. "Ugh," Kate groaned, sitting up and unwrapping herself gracelessly. "Ass. Didn''t have to make me look bad." "Course he did!" one of the knights shouted back. "Why else would none of us volunteered?" Several of the other men laughed, feeling justified in their lack of valor. "You''ve somehow managed to get worse," Phillip said, rewinding his spool. "I woulda thought true combat to sharpen ability. You proved me wrong, girl. You got worse..." He muttered, going about doing several lunging stretches, wincing when his shoulders popped. Kate''s face flushed as she bent down and picked up her bastard sword once again. For a moment, I thought she might strike him out of anger. But her eyes lingered on the ribbon, then over on me. "Not the best showing, I admit," Kate said, approaching me. "Show''s over everyone!" Phillip shouted at the onlookers, ignoring Kate. "Might I still be honored by your name?" Kate said, making a half bow towards me. Esmerelda nudged me forward, a mischievous smile on her face. "Go on," she murmured. "I do believe the girl likes you." Kate''s ears proved too sharp, as she turned to face us. "That I do," she said boldly with a smile. May I have your name?" I hesitated for a moment before firmly replying, "No." Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Kate seemed taken aback by my response. "O-oh? Why, may I ask?" I cleared my throat awkwardly and shook my head. "Nooo?" I answered, lacking a good reason but resistant all the same. The less I had to do with Kate, the better. "Playing coy, then?" Esmerelda asked, laughing in an encouraging manner. "If you won''t give me a name, then I''ll have to think up one for you," Kate proclaimed with youthful folly and exuberance. I groaned and covered my face with my palms. "Let''s see..." Kate led off, tapping her chin theatrically. "What would a fine name be?" She seemed to be asking Esmerelda. "I would not want to pollute your well of inspiration," Esmerelda replied, her voice like a silver bell''s chime. "Hm. Well now the pressure is upon me. I''ll have to think for a bit and come back, to make sure the name is worthy of your beauty," Kate said to me. I groaned even louder than before, a mixture of mortification and embarrassment. Esmerelda nudged me, "We look forward to it, don''t we?" "You won''t need to wait long. You''ll be here on the morrow to train?" Kate asked. Esmerelda answered on my behalf. "Yes, we''ll be here." "Good! But if we''re gonna be sparring, then we''ll definitely be getting more familiar..." she said, waggling her eyebrows in an obscene fashion. While Esmerelda may have tittered, I refused categorically. Why was Kate even trying this hard? She had literally just seen me for the first time, at least under this Guise? Unless... now that was a queasy thought; it involved the ''Gift'' and I would rather not dwell on it at all. I glanced around, looking for any sort of distraction. Phillip seemed aware of our discussion, though he was still stretching out and cooling off after the spar, and seemed willing to forgo providing instruction, at least at that second. Some of the other onlookers had gone back to their own drills, from archery to lopsided spars. No matter where I looked, I failed to find refuge from the persistent Kate. Even Esmerelda had betrayed me! "Hey, c''mon!" Kate insisted, going to nudge my shoulder before thinking better of touching. "It''s not often I see another girl my age sparring. This is exciting!" I shook my head, blushing. Sensing her approach had failed, Kate changed topics. She sideled on closer. "Ya know," she said. "If you want to learn the battle-ribbon, I would be more than happy to help train." "Oh?" Esmerelda said, her interest piqued. "You know the ribbon as well, Sir Kate?" "Just the basics. My expertise lies with the sword." "And what of the Instructor?" "He doesn''t make house-calls. Speaking of, where can I find you?" She waggled her eyebrows. Blackrest returned, a scowl on his face. "I thought you lot were here to learn," he snapped. "Yet here ya are, yappin'' jaws." He tossed the spindle of ribbon to me. "It''s the only one we got. I''ll walk ya through some basics, but I''ve got other duties, an'' it''ll take practice. Still wanna learn?" I nodded. The demonstration had only reaffirmed my desire. Originally, I had been choosing the least bad option. But now, now that I saw the dexterity and the possibility that a ribbon offered, I was somewhat excited. "Alright then. We''ll start with blocks, then get ya started on snares." "You mentioned I should be practicing on my own?" I asked. "Ya." "Don''t worry Jackie," Esmerelda said, likely intentionally revealing my name to the lingering Kate. "We''ll pick you up something nice later. For now learn the basics." Independent study then. I could learn that way, though it would be best if I had a guide. For some reason, I doubted I could find a useful instruction manual on ribbon fighting. It seemed very much non-standardized. "Grip the ribbon loosely with your left," Phillip instructed, his eyes never leaving my hand as I tried to follow his directions. "You want enough slack to move freely, but not so much that you get tangled up." I adjusted my grip, trying to find the right balance. My false-arm, unfortunately, was not the most dexterous, almost a split-second behind what I wanted, at best. But with practice, I hoped it would improve. Phillip, meanwhile, didn''t seem to have any patience for my struggles. He scowled and spat on the ground in frustration. "You''re never gonna learn if you don''t focus," he snapped. "Now try again." And try I did. My right arm was to lead my left, with just enough slack to either wind around or deflect. But my left was too slow. Why did the limb not listen to my nerves when they fired? Seeming to sense my frustration, the tendrils attaching to my ribs writhed rhythmically. Eventually, Phillip had enough. He came over and grabbed my false-arm, holding it out. The hairs on the back of my neck raised. Would he recognize signs of the infestation? He had been around the block, he was an old seasoned veteran, there was a chance-- "Deviation?" Phillip asked, noting my silver limb and misshapen fingers. "You''ll need to figure that out on yer own time." He sounded utterly disgusted. "I could help!" Kate offered, having never left. Phillip spat. "So you could. On your own time. For now, you owe me drills." I let out a frustrated sigh as Phillip turned his attention to Kate, who was still lingering nearby. I could feel her gaze burning into my back, and part of me wanted to turn and glare at her for interrupting my lesson. But another part of me was grateful for her offer to help. I had never been the type to ask for assistance, but in this case, I knew I needed all the help I could get. "Fine," Phillip grumbled, clearly annoyed at Kate''s persistence. "I''m getting too old for this. But you''re still gonna owe me your endurance drills. Captain made a point of that." Oblivious to the threat, or simply uncaring, Kate nodded eagerly, already moving closer to join me on the makeshift training ground. In or training, she would serve as an exaggerated mock aggressor, while also helping me to correct obvious deficiencies. Oddly enough, it helped. The next hour was spent covering the basic stances, pivots, and blocks. Nothing near mastery, not even apprentice level. It was just to give me a taste of what I should be aiming for. I had my doubts about the teaching technique. As we rushed through the movements, I raised them up. "Aren''t I learning bad habits doing it this way?" I asked. "I would have thought--" "That I''d spend time tutoring yer ass?" Phillip mock asked. Esmerelda frowned slightly, just enough to provide a warning. "Sorry woman. There''s favors, then there''s Favors. I''ll do what I can, but I still got duties. Besides--" he glanced at my bare Marks on my right arm. "-Quality Marks tend to carry the distance." Soon, my time training came to an end, and Esmerelda was leading me off for another errand, saying her goodbyes to Phillip, with her extracting a promise for him to visit her later. During that time, Kate approached me, having cut short her own drills. She was covered in sweat and grime, but smiling boyishly all the same. "Heading off so soon?" she asked. "Here I hoped to spar with you a bit more." I scoffed, and before I thought better of it: "I''m a neophyte. Maybe in a decade." "Yeah, but, ya gotta start somewhere!" she said with a smile, showing off her slightly crooked teeth. "And you''ve got potential..." "I''m sure you tell all the girls that," I scoffed, coming back to myself. If I took a step back, Kate was just another amorous pursuer. I had practice dealing with them. I had no reason to lose my confidence. "You''re actually the first," Kate said, taken somewhat aback. "Why, do you think that we get many girls? I thought I told you we''re rare here." "You did," I said, observing Kate''s serious demeanor and lack of humor. I changed the subject, probing for possible information instead. "By the way, what are endurance drills? It almost seems like--" "Punishment?" she said, smirking and shaking her head. "Well, basically because it is punishment. Assigned by my mom, ugh." I had a fair idea of why she was on the receiving end of punishment, but I was not supposed to know that, at least if my Guise still held. "Oh?" I asked, prompting for whatever more she would give. She shook her head, smirking. "I''ll tell you about it later," she said. Of course, that was the exact moment that Esmerelda chose that time to come back. "Sounds like a play-date!" Esmerelda said, laughing. "Now come along. Let''s see about getting you a ribbon. And maybe a preparatory textbook?" "For the Academy?" Kate asked, eyebrows raising. "Naturally, Sir Kate." "Kate! Get yer ass back to runnin''!" Phillip shouted. I made a timely retreat, somewhat blushing. Guise of the Kitsune: 5/9 (+1) At least it seemed Kate had failed to see through my Guise. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (3/9):
    • Climbing I (3/9)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
  • Stealth I (6/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (5/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver I (1/9)
    • Evasion I (1/9)
      • Impending Sense (1/9)
    • Lucky Break (1/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (5/9) (+1)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.3.2.6 The Mercenary Quarter teemed with even more life as we left the training yard than when we had arrived. Almost overwhelming, especially when considered to the months spent in the wastes in solitude. Around us as we went, a cacophony of haggling and clanging metal surrounded us. I was following Esmerelda as she weaved her way through the throngs of people, their lecherous gazes falling upon her like hungry wolves stalking their prey. She paid the lechers no heed, however. She merely continued pushing her way through the press of the crowd. Esmerelda did warn me though, "Keep close, Jackie." Her hazel-hued eyes briefly met mine before she continued pushing through the open plaza. "We don''t want to get separated. Not after last night, anyways." At first, I thought she was serious, and she might have been, but any serious tone was lost when she then added dramatically, "After all, we wouldn''t want such a chaste young woman such as yourself at the mercies of the wider world." That had been awfully theatrical. And the way she had emphasized chaste... I frowned at her backside. "This is about Sir Kate, isn''t it?" I asked dryly. She tsked loudly enough to be heard. "And you didn''t even give the poor girl your name!" Esmerelda was giving mixed signals here. I decided to follow my gut, and in this case, my gut recommended a quip. "The lady is hardly poor," I retorted. "Part of the upper-crust, really." "Which is why you should consider the opportunity," Esmerelda responded practically. Of course, from Esmerelda''s perspective, that would make sense. I merely shook my head and let her have the parting word. Because earlier, her advice had been sound about the plaza. We were under the watchful gazes of several down-on-their-luck sorts. So to avoid looking like bait, I kept tightly to Esmerelda as I followed. Curious watchers eyed us with suspicion, their faces hidden beneath the shadows of front-brimmed hats, caps, and hoods. With every step, I could feel the weight of their gaze heavy upon me, but I steeled myself, focusing only on the task at hand. Which was what? Esmerelda had never told me exactly what our errands entailed. When Esmerelda headed towards one of the shop-fronts, I figured out at least what one of her errands were to be. The shop was called, ''Quarter''s Quarry: Shelves of Weapons.'' The name was fairly descriptive. The moment we stepped inside, the scent of oil and metal assaulted my senses. A myriad of weapons lined the shelves, from curved blades to spiked axes, some scuffed and worn, others meticulously crafted to inflict carnage. The air crackled with an undercurrent of violence, as if the very walls themselves whispered promises of bloodshed and pain. I thought I could spot a few old bloodstains on the wooden floors. Esmerelda scanned the store, her eyes flickering over the deadly implements with practiced ease. When she failed to find what she was looking for, she strode up to the counter, her form cutting an imposing figure against the dim light. She was seemingly more blunt than her usual flirtatious self. "Excuse me," she called loudly. The counter was unmanned, even though a bell had run when we first came in. "Where did you hide your ribbons?" she asked in an annoyed tone. A man came hurrying from a doorway behind the counter, weapon grease staining his hands. He let his jaw hang a bit low as he saw who was waiting and ended up clearing his throat. He slipped on an official looking jacket that had a nameplate pinned to it. According to the label, his name was Jake. I wondered how much he cost. "Come again?" he asked, finally re-connecting his brain to his jaw. "Ribbons. Where." Esmerelda said shortly. Was this an act, or was she really cross. Was her normally flirtatious self the act? Suddenly, I was unsure where the real Esmerelda lay. "Like... as in tassels?" Jake asked, still dumbfounded. "This is a weapons store, is it not?" Esmerelda rhetorically asked. "This is a--" Jake began repeating exactly what Esmerelda said before catching himself. "-Uh... Battle Ribbon," he paused, thinking. "I mean, maybe? Like those fight-productions some whor--I mean to say, some gals put on? Those really aren''t weapons usually if you--" I wondered if I had found the answer as to why Esmerelda had latched onto the idea of ribbon-fighting so quickly, when all I had done was express an initial interest. I also wondered if she was acting crossly to be taken more seriously in this setting, because I could easily imagine that a beautiful woman ordering a battle ribbon would lead to misleading ideas about our intentions. "Noted," she said with a narrowing of her eyes. "But we''re after a battle ribbon. Emphasis on battle. It needs to be usable for at the very least sparring." "Ohhhh..." Jake trailed off. "We might have some? In the back? Lemme check real quick, alright?" He finished speaking as he disappeared into the back room. "So. Some certain women use ribbons to put on shows?" I asked Esmerelda, a fraction of my worry and ire coming through somewhat intentionally. "Yes," she said, before deflating slightly with a sigh and regathering herself. "Just trust me. Some tools serve multiple purposes, weapons included." I noticed her lips curled up, fractionally. And the way she held her bust emphasized her chest. She had been avoiding those subtle cues with Jake, but not with me. Regardless of her true feelings on the matter, I still had to reply to the statement. I had to let her know how I felt about these possible female arts that I absolutely wanted to avoid. So, I gave a somewhat venomous scoff. She rolled her eyes. Jake returned with a wooden crate which turned out to be filled with an assortment of spooled ribbons packed in sawdust. Esmerelda lifted one of the tougher looking ribbons, made from more linen than silk, noticeably thicker than the other ribbons, attached to a plain wooden spool with nearly no gripping material; the wood might have been hickory, or it might have not. She sneered at the shoddy looking battle ribbon. "Is this the best you have to offer here? I thought you promised weapons, not--" she made a sound of disgust "-these." Jake, unknowingly being played by Esmerelda, gave a weak defense. "It''s what the bosses got stocked," Jake said. "And most of ''em look better ''en that one? Not sure ''bout war ribbons..." he trailed off in more of a grumble than anything comprehensible. He took on more of an accent now than before. I knew that Esmerelda was playing him, and using a negotiation tactic of some sort. Because despite her playing hardball, Jake was correct. Plenty of the ribbons were better than the one she had knowingly selected, likely as an example. My eyes were naturally drawn to the gaudiest and most expensive of them. The ribbon was obviously fine and valuable, thinner than paper, with a spool and grip more akin to a gilded rapier basket than anything else. The silk itself was a deep crimson with edges that faded to azure. It glinted silver. Valuable, my instincts said. Though by how much, I was unsure. "Got this show piece," Jake said, pointing to the very one I was looking at. "Don''t know how good for fightin'' though. Then there''re these ones," he said, pointing at a ribbon that was almost made of hexagons, sharpened along the edges. "Looks more dangerous to the wielder than anything. Who''re you buyin'' for?" he asked. "Why does the ''who'' matter to you?" Esmerelda asked, voice almost accusatory. "Easy, easy," he said, waving his hands out and backing off slightly. "I''m just askin'' lady. ''Cuz it depends on what they want an'' how much risk they plan on swallowin''." The ribbon with the scaled honeycomb of blades did appear harmful. One misstep with that could lead to self inflicted injuries that I would much rather avoid. I decided to step in. "The weapon will be for me," I claimed. Esmerelda failed to dispute that claim. "I have stomach for little risk. Preferably, none." Especially considering I had only picked one up for the first time that morning. "Ah. For shows then?" Jake asked, back to being confused. "No," I said, frowning. Esmerelda smirked and answered at the same time, "Maybe." I shook my head more vehemently. "No shows," I insisted. Esmerelda narrowed her eyes slightly, then smiled at me. "If you say so, Jackie dear." Jake, uncomfortable from the exchange between Esmerelda and I, pointed out one of the mid-range ribbons, made from silk, a painted black grip, and a gray everything else. The handle looked like it could double as a blackjack. "The tag says it''s six feet long... That work for ya?" Jake finished asking. I had little to no frame of reference if that was too long or too short. Esmerelda hummed and tapped her lips. "What other sizes do you have?" He pointed at the fanciest one with a basket hilt, "twelve feet, if you believe it. And four feet," he pointed at one of the more basic ones. "Up to you, but the longer ones cost more. Seems pretty wasteful too. Can''t imagine they''re easy to use." "I''ll take your opinions into consideration," Esmerelda said, finally softening her voice. Showing a reward for Jake''s helpful advice then. I would need to take much more care around Esmerelda in the future. I had not realized she was so adept at the craft. "Very well," Esmerelda continued after a pause, pointing at the six-foot battle ribbon Jake recommended. "Would you like this one, Jackie dear? It is a bit longer than you are tall." Jake moved on the spot, clearly wanting to say more, but resisting the urge. "I think so," I said, not really certain how much use I would get out of it, and hoping I could avoid disappointing Esmerelda without debasing myself by putting on any show. The very thought left me feeling sick. "Then we''ll take it," Esmerelda said to the merchant. Jake winced, "wise choice, wise choice." For some reason, when he spoke that, his voice sounded trite and disingenuous. *** The flickering lamps cast eerie shadows across the worn wooden tables of the tavern. I wiped my hands on my crisp black apron as Marianne and I worked together, serving the well-to-do and middle-class patrons who stumbled in. During the few off-moments that our paths crossed near the bar, Marianne and I exchanged news and idle chatter to help the hours move faster. "Heard you had a fun time today with Esmerelda," Marianne said. "It... was something," I said, unsure how much to say. Several patrons were eavesdropping. They sat at the bar, minding their drinks. I had caught several watching me earlier, and I had no doubt that one of them was working up the courage to speak to me, despite the fact Marianne was serving them. I finally settled on the basics, "Combat training." I made sure to shudder visibly. "Hm," Marianne hummed. "I heard you got a new toy too. A fun one." This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. A new toy? I wondered. Marianne continued, "You know, some of the girls here practice variations of ribbon work here--though it''s more focused on knots." That was not a toy. I also doubted that Marianne meant knot work in the overtly sexual way, because normally, Marianne hated what she termed ''night-work,'' or the brothel side. But here she was, I was fairly certain, referencing one of the more salacious ways to tie knots. "Knot work?" I asked, taking the bait to try and figure out just what she meant. "Yep!" She answered in cheer. The patrons were definitely eavesdropping now, one of them looked about to fall from his stool, so hard was he leaning towards her to listen. "I''ve seen them practicing in the vanity rooms before," she said. "It looks complicated." "Ah..." I led off, not wanting to add anything at all to that. But I had to say something. I felt as though I were putting on a show at this point for the tavern-goers. A show I would really rather not. Finally, I said neutrally, "It might be useful? But I intend on putting the ribbon to a more martial use." She nodded slowly, before decelerating to a stop and frowning, as though she just had a profound and less than wholesome realization. I wanted no part of that realization of hers, and I was about to take another pass of my tables, when she shuddered and shook her head, then changed the subject on her own. "And what''s this of a paramour of yours?" Mariane asked, taking a coy and teasing tone. I winced. I definitely needed to take another pass at my tables. The situation was awkward and dangerous and not at all what I was equipped to handle. "I don''t know what you''re talking about," I said as I hurried off. Despite the fact I was walking away, I could not help but overhear several patrons at the bar talk to Marianne as she served them drinks. "The girl''s taken?" one of the patrons overheard, ribbing his drinking buddy. "Hear that, Colt? You''re too late! No guts, no glory. ''S what I say." "Pfft," his friend waved him off. "She ain''t married yet." "Really?" the first asked, sounding shocked but also amused. "You lookin¡¯ for a marriageable woman here?!" "Aw, go lick a god¡¯s cunt," the friend cursed. The clamor of the tavern intensified as the night wore on, patrons sharing raucous laughter and boisterous banter over mugs of ale and cocktails. Marianne and I exchanged good-natured barbs as we worked, our camaraderie helping the night to pass just a little more quickly. I was finding that I liked the girl more and more. At one point, Marianne paused me with a serious expression on her face. "See that one?" Marianne nodded towards a young woman seated at a corner table, her cheeks flushed an alarming shade of crimson on her otherwise brown skin. "She''s at your table. And I know you probably already did this, but you cut her off already, right?" The girl that Marianne was referring to was indeed one of mine. She was leaning into a man''s shoulder and the wall, looking quite plastered. The man seemed pleased with it, though I wondered if he was more of an older teenager with his scruff and acne. He had not been at the table originally. Or at least I failed to remember him entering with the girl. But from the familiarity there, the girl looking up and smiling at the man with a dazed smile, the two of them must have known each other. "That is..." I trailed off, trying to understand how that had happened. I had only served the girl a single drink. The man had not entered with her, but was with her now. She seemed happy with it. Was this a meetup? Had she taken some sort of drug? I lacked a lot of context here, if it was even my job to police this in the first place. "Something feels off about that," I said. "You''re just now noticing?!" Marianne said reproachfully, before groaning. "Now we might need to host her tonight." The way she said that made it sound like a problem, but I thought that hosting intoxicated damsels was part of the tavern¡¯s policy. "You make it sound like you don''t want to host her," I said. "You hosted me just fine. You also served me until I was blackout drunk. Remember?" I referred to the very first time I had visited Ma¡¯RItz. Marianne glanced away. "That was different," she said. The girl in question laughed far too loudly at something the boy said. Whatever was happening there was likely benign. I decided to set Marianne''s concern at ease. "It seems like they know each other," I said, nodding towards the boy and girl. "I don''t like it," Marianne mumbled, before shaking her head. "But that''s no excuse, missy!" she wagged a finger at me as though she were scolding, but it was meant to be humorous, to perhaps lessen the sting of a reprimand. It might have also been a mechanism for her to save face. "Why have you been serving her so much that she''s that drunk?!" I grimaced very slightly. That was the part that was confusing me. "I''ve only served her the one drink, the darker ale.¡± I explained. ¡°That''s what seemed odd. It shouldn''t have affected her that strongly. Her drink''s still more than half full." Marianne furrowed her brows, discreetly glaring at the couple. "Sometimes... sometimes, patrons sip off others'' drinks.¡± Marianne sounded more like she was thinking aloud. ¡°They aren''t supposed to do that, but we only really step in when they''ve had too much." She gave a small little nod of her head, as though she had just made some divine ruling. "Should I keep my eyes open then?" I asked, throwing her ego a bone. It cost me little to do, and if it made her happy, then the investment would be worthwhile. "Yeah," she said. "It''s for their own good, most of the time." She gave another of those little nods. "You''ll see." Eventually, the girl in question left with the boy. I mentioned it to Marianne, to ask if we ought to stop them from leaving, but Marianne declined and shook her head. "Not unless it looks forced or we''re wrapping up for the night," she said. "Otherwise, we''d get in trouble." She frowned, "there miiight be a slight stigma about girls staying here, even if it''s just to sober up." "Good to know," I said. Then I remembered that I had spent the night at Ma''Ritz to sober up. It was my turn to frown. As the hours slipped by, the tavern''s atmosphere grew heavier with the stench of sweat and spilled ale. The raucous laughter of drunken patrons melded into a cacophony that just would not end. My muscles ached from the relentless hustle of serving drink after drink, but I could hardly afford to stop. Athleticism: 4/9 (+1) When my right arm tingled and burned, for a moment I worried that I had unlocked some worthless talent or skill for bussing tables. Fortunately, that was not the case. But the way the night was going before that, I was worried I would be too exhausted for my guard duty. Besides the fatigue, my tavern duties went smoothly. Some patrons paid well, others did not, but things were mechanical: Guide guests to their seats, take their orders, deliver their orders, collect payment, and so on and so on. There were a few odd questions about the current kegs and about Cook''s special that night, but for the most part it was easy. It let me glance over an assortment of people entering. I might not have known exactly what I was looking for, but I knew that I was on the hook for locating Emboru''s sibling, and I hoped that one of the guests would shed some light on a clue. But nothing obvious happened. It is only the second night, I consoled myself. It might take several weeks for something to turn up. And it was not like the tavern was my only vector into Southbridge. Every time I moved about, I had a chance of finding them. And if not here, then at the Academy. And if not there, then when I broke free and explored the underbelly of the city. I kept telling myself that, over and over, that locating Emboru''s sibling was an inevitability. I repeated this mantra, not only for my own emotional well-being, but also in case my false-arm was somehow listening to my thoughts. I doubted it was possible, but the false arm could perceive my nerve signals, and this world had magic, so anything was possible, really. Even as I thought that, I focused inward where my flesh met the false-arm. Nothing responded. That time. I narrowed my eyes slightly. Eventually, Marianne interrupted my routine once more, this time with a more deliberate chat. The evening had been winding down, allowing some down-time. She met me at the bar. "Jackie," Marianne called, her voice tinged with concern. "You seem... so serious. You''ve been frowning at yourself for a bit there." "Sorry," I muttered, embarrassed. I forced a weary smile onto my lips. "Just thinking about some things." "Ah," she nodded knowingly, her icy blue eyes piercing my very soul. "Your paramour, is it?" "Don''t remind me," I groaned. That had not been what I was thinking of at all. "Listen," she said, wiping down the bar with practiced efficiency. "It''s alright to..." She trailed off. "It''s alright to do what?" I asked, uncomfortable with what I suspected that she was getting at. "You know..." This time she blushed slightly and turned away. "You lost me," I said. I had an idea where she was going with this, but not exactly, and it was always safer to play dumb. "Fine," she said after a drawn out groan. "It''s alright. For two girls, to..." She blushed more furiously. "You know... court?" "Oh." That thought had barely occurred to me. I had been busy enough with everything else that the issue of societal acceptance of same-sex relationships had taken a back-burner. It might have been cultural baggage on my side, but I felt that whole-scale oppression should be applied universally. I would have expected a nation with slavery to have also prohibited homosexuality. But then, thinking on it further, there had been places like that on Earth, at least in the past. Rome came to mind. And maybe Greece. Also, perhaps modern countries, depending on how literal the definition to slavery was. "Yeah?" Marianne said, picking up on my confusion. How could I explain my own confusion without revealing far too much? Why would I wish to explain myself at all? I remained silent. When it became obvious I would say no further, Marianne picked the conversational slack back up. "But I just wanted you to know that it''s alright," she said. "What matters is what''s in here--" she finished, pointing at my heart. She sounded like she actually believed what she was saying. It was endearing. Also, naive. "This discussion is very premature," I eventually settled on. "I would rather not think of Sir Kate Gaurdson¡¯s intentions at all. There is a reason I denied her my name earlier today." While I could have allowed the misconception to continue, pretending that it really was Kate that had me bothered, doing so would lose me an opportunity. Because, I really was worried about Emboru and locating the other Mucary. It was the threat looming over my head. Especially if I had nothing to show Emboru when she checked in for progress. I was worried enough that I was even considering asking for help. Though, I would only reveal a fraction of what I needed. If two eyes were good, then four was better? Or so I thought in this instance. Just so long as I revealed nothing sensitive. "What''s got you hot and bothered then," Marianne asked, likely unintentionally adopting inappropriate phrasing. "You can trust me. Was it going out in the city? Esmerelda kept you safe, right? So there would have been nothing to worry about. Especially when you learn how to use that toy." She finished with tease. "She did take me out into the city..." I trailed off, figuring the best way to word this to reveal as little as possible while taking everything I needed. "But... I was..." Eventually, I decided on a workable strategy. "The trip reminded me of my family." "Your folks?" she asked, taking the bait, and appearing concerned. "But I thought that you traveled to Southbridge on your own?" "I did," I said, re-affirming a previous lie. "But, my parents were supposed to meet me at some point..." "And you''re worried about them?" she prompted further. Inwardly, I smiled. Outwardly, I waffled my hand back and forth and frowned. "Less that," I answered, "And more that I realized I had no idea how to find them. The city is far larger than I thought it would be." "It is surprisingly big," she said, "Considering Southbridge isn¡¯t a Marked city." And what did that mean? I wondered. I would have asked, but I wanted to stay on topic. Besides, it sounded like everyone already knew what a Marked city meant, so I should also know that, unless I wanted to reveal potentially sensitive facts. Not for the first time, I cursed my own ignorance. "I might be able to help?" she said, after tapping her chin and pursing her lips in thought. "I''ve been looking around for some people too, and have already got some contacts I can share. Let me think about it, alright?" "You would go that far, for me?" I asked, a hopeful tone seeping into my voice. "Of course, Jackie!" she said, smiling. "I''m just wondering if it would do you any good. They don¡¯t know everything going on in the city, just some of the¡­ happenings. But if I see them come in, I''ll point them out." It sounded like Marianne might have a low-key information broker to introduce. That would be very useful, at least if she could deliver. "Thank you, Marianne," I said, genuinely smiling . "I really would appreciate that." I would have to remember to ask for help more often. Sometimes the results were surprisingly useful. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (4/9): (+1)
    • Climbing I (3/9)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
  • Stealth I (6/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (5/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver I (1/9)
    • Evasion I (1/9)
      • Impending Sense (1/9)
    • Lucky Break (1/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (5/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.3.3 Absorption 2.3.3 Several days passed in a similar fashion, a routine beginning to fall into place. One night, however, an oddity occurred which was worth noting. While I was working in the tavern, alongside Marianne, several familiar faces entered; ones that I would rather maintain some level of separation with. One of them was a boy named Gregory Silverborn, the very same fool who I had the misfortune of meeting in the wastes. The other, a boisterously all-too-confident girl, Sir Kate Gaurdson. As they entered, Kate striding forward and leading their pack as though she owned all that her eyes fell upon, she sighted upon me. A broad winsome grin split her face. I ducked into the service hallway and planned on making myself scarce. For it was bad enough I had to see her in the mornings during combat training. Marianne followed me to the back, checking on me. ¡°Is something the matter, Jackie?¡± Marianne asked, concern writ across her face. ¡°No,¡± I denied. Marianne crossed her arms and gave a flat look. ¡°Not that I can put into words with grace,¡± I amended. ¡°The table with the giant blonde girl then? Did they do something inappropriate?¡± ¡°...no,¡± I admitted. ¡°At least not yet. That girl is Kate Guardson, the one who has been hounding me in the mornings.¡± ¡°Oh¡­¡± Marianne mouth parted. Her cheeks reddened. ¡°Oh! She¡¯s the one that wants to court you then?¡± I winced. ¡°I hope not,¡± I said. ¡°But I fear so.¡± Marianne shrugged. ¡°There are worse suitors you know,¡± she said, perhaps in an effort to console me. ¡°But if they make you uncomfortable, I can take the table.¡± ¡°Would you do that?¡± I asked her, letting relief sound in my voice and posture. ¡°Of course, Jackie. Just leave them to me.¡± So I did. I let Marianne take that table, and I avoided them despite Kate¡¯s attention to catch my eye. Things seemed to be going well, and later that night, they paid their tab and stood to leave. Unfortunately, as they were making their way to the door, Kate hollered into the tavern, ¡°See ya tomorrow, Jackie!¡± I winced and slightly blushed as I hid behind the bartop as patrons grumbled at the impropriety and the volume. I caught sight of Kate¡¯s smug grin as she left. When I caught Marianne minutes later, she acted as though nothing wrong had occurred. And perhaps from her perspective, nothing had. ¡°You gave her my name?¡± I asked, perhaps demanded, when I saw Marianne. ¡°Did I?¡± She asked, taken aback by my vehemence. ¡°Was I not supposed to mention it? It seems odd if you see her in the mornings that she wouldn¡¯t know it.¡± I sighed. How could I explain the reason I had for keeping my name from Kate? And I did have reasons, for what if Kate remembered the name of the beast-kin she had encountered in the wastes? I supposed it had been a naive hope on my part to keep my name a fiction. ¡°Just¡­ nevermind,¡± I said. Marianne narrowed her eyes slightly, demonstrating playful suspicion. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be happening to play hard to get now, would you?¡± I shuddered and turned from the conversation, instead focusing upon my work. Not so many nights later, I once again found myself prowling along the steeply sloped roof of Ma¡¯Ritz. It had become something of a routine. I would help Marianne with the busy hours in the tavern, before taking several hours to myself, and then coming back out to guard the place at night. Then, the next morning, I would sleep in a little longer than Marianne, head down to the Merc Quarter for training, before starting another shift. The routine was tedious. Tiring. Exhausting, even. But it gave me the opportunity to grow my Marks in a useful direction. Besides, it served my purposes better than working exclusively in the tavern. Otherwise, I would be worried about developing some obscene Talent, such as bartending, or flirting for tips. However, there were downsides to my night-shift. Particularly, occasionally, I would dwell upon memories that I would really rather not retain. They would be triggered by seeing someone from what could have been a Pit Crew, or even the borderline corrupt peacekeepers. And then, as soon as I encountered the reminder, I would be back in the midst of the moment, hearing the echoes of the men hitting the ground, of the crackling bones, the smashing of skulls against stone, and the pleasure that my false-arm had radiated. I still was uncertain if my false-arm even could experience pleasure. I may have been anthropomorphizing unduly. But it almost seemed to shiver when we, when it, did things in line with my expectations for savagery. These were uncomfortable thoughts, all around. When they occurred, I attempted to push them from my mind as quickly as possible. To an onlooker, I would have appeared to be brooding while watching another party of drunks pass below the side street. But as I maintained diligence along the rooftop, towards the front of the building, along the winding main street, I heard a ''psst'' from down below. My ears almost twitched, before they remembered they were those of a human, not those of a beast. Holding firm to the exterior walls, I bent over and looked at the third floor windows. One had its shutters opened, with Marianne poking her head out and craning her face upwards. She blinked and peered towards the rooftops. "Can''t see anything!" Marianne whispered. "Is that you?" She had the gall to complain, I thought with some acerbic-ness. After all, she knew it was me, and she still made a scene. Even though it would draw attention up towards me, potentially revealing my location. Because of this, I almost ignored her. Almost. But this was sweet and naive Marianne Frostlight, and she was undeserving of scorn. She may have also reminded me of a sister I once had. Besides, would I ignore her, she would only persist and increase in volume. Thus, I leaned out further, precipitously above her, until she could see my shadow against the night sky. "You should be sleeping," I told her. "So should you!" she retorted. This was unfortunately a recurring point of contention between us. Every night, before she went to bed, she would poke her head out, seeking me out, growing progressively louder, all until I responded. "You know that I cannot," I said. ¡°I was given a task, and I must see it done.¡± I could imagine all of the awful things that could happen if I took an inopportune nap while on duty. Even then, as we spoke, I could practically feel sleazy eyes on the back of my neck. I shivered and tried to ignore it. "You know what I mean!¡± Marianne huffed. ¡°You''re up all night. You wake just a bit after I do. And you''re training and then working the tavern and all this other stuff! This can''t be healthy. Even Esmerelda agrees." I resisted the urge to yawn. ¡°I can survive this and grow,¡± I said, attempting to console her and her frustrations. We had only shared the room as bunkmates for so long before I had been put on this night shift. I wondered if perhaps she missed my company? It was a possibility, and one I was incapable of ameliorating at this time. She snorted with disdain. "You¡¯re more likely to develop a talent or skill that gives you sleep insomnia," Marianne said. "Would that not be a blessing though? Requiring less sleep?¡± I asked. For if my Mark did develop in such a direction, it would grant me additional hours in a day, additional productivity, and it would greatly reduce one of my weaknesses: the requirement for sleep. "Maybe," she said, admitting my point. She groaned, deflated, and finally sighed. "Just¡­¡± she started, looking for the words. ¡°Just don''t let them take advantage of you too much, alright?" "They?" I asked. This conversation had now fallen beyond our usual scope. "You know," she said softly, but not clarifying who she meant. Likely she was not including Esmerelda, as Marianne practically worshiped the woman. "Regardless, I find the night-shift to be pleasant,¡± I said, hoping to raise Marianne¡¯s attitude prior to her turning in for the night. Resting on ill-feelings was harmful. ¡°Yeah?¡± Marianne asked, perking up slightly. ¡°I enjoy the solitude of the night sky, and it grants me the ability to both make a difference and improve myself.¡± "...yeah," she finally admitted, sounding rueful. "Well, just try to keep it down when you stumble in tonight. Sleep well Jackie." "You as well, Marianne," I finished, watching as she closed the shutters and likely turned in. Not much later, as my eyes scanned the dimly lit street corners, I sighted several silhouettes running through the shadows, just barely illuminated by the flickering lamps. Silent as ghosts, they slipped between buildings, their dark forms barely visible against the night. There were two of them that I saw. One led, the other followed. They moved with purpose, keeping to the shadows and away from passersby. I was unable to make out details, but the first appeared of shorter stature than eye, while the second was a behemoth. I wondered how the behemoth could move about so silently. Confronting them was a possibility, but they were doing no harm to Ma¡¯Ritz, nor to my position. Instead, I watched them until they slipped around a corner, entering a side street less than two blocks away. The night continued onward without event. I could not help but wonder where those two had come from, and what business they were planning. Were they simple thieves, or something more sinister? Regardless, I had my own problems to focus on: namely, developing my Marks. I had yet to achieve a combat oriented Talent, at least not directly, though I had yet to really test Eschiver and Evasion on the training court. Thus far, I had been working on drills. I hoped to earn an offensive ability before I wound up sparring. Thus far, I had failed. But combat was arguably one of the least useful roles I could learn. It lacked synergy with my natural talents. And more importantly, I disliked fighting. It was violent, risky, and brutal. My false-arm squeezed my collar bone and ribs at that moment, as though in protest. Not all of me disliked combat then. If my false-arm counted as a part of me. If I was reading its emotions correctly. If it had emotions in the first place. Regardless of my feelings on combat, fights were always risky. Death would arrive from just one unlucky shot, or one ill-fated step. I had no delusions regarding my infallibility: I was fragile. The reason I pondered was because I wondered just how attentive my guard duty required me. And, more importantly, if there were some elements of freedom that I could be employing to improve myself. For example, did I need to stick on the rooftop of Ma''Ritz? At the ground level, I might be attacked or accosted, and I would reduce my already poor visibility. But, did I need to stick on the Ma''Ritz, or could I travel some? Spying, sneaking, urban travel... all of these felt more interesting than lurking and brooding. So long as I stayed within a block of Ma''Ritz, I reasoned, then it should be fine. With my decision made, I slunk to the side of Ma''Ritz, near the narrow side street separating Ma''Ritz from the nearest neighboring building. It was maybe ten feet from Ma''Ritz to the next building, though the next building was shorter and squatter. Looking down from the third floor to the dark stone street below, I wondered if I might be overestimating my abilities. It would be a rather long drop. But if I wanted Marks more suitable to me, then I would need to practice and take risks, optimally at the same time. Besides, it should be doable. I had done worse before. Swallowing, avoiding over-thinking it, I pushed off from Ma''Ritz and pivoted into the air. I overestimated the torque, spinning too far so that my side was facing the other building. I crashed against the brick wall. The impact drove the air from my lungs. By all rights, I should have slid from the wall, fallen, and smashed against the pavers below. But my Climbing Talent kicked in, sticking me to the side of the building like magic. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. My jump had been ill-timed and poorly executed, and I could have performed it much better. But I survived. And from the tingling on my forearm, the gamble paid off. Athleticism: 5/9 (+1): Climbing I: 4/9 (+1) I climbed to the top of the building and collected myself while crouching and listening to the night. Nobody was reacting to my collision with the wall, despite the noise. Either the residents were deaf or preoccupied. A boon to me. I practiced my other skills. I prowled along the edge of the rooftop, my boots barely making a sound on the soot covered tiles. The darkness was my ally, and I made sure to stay low, using the shadows cast by the chimney stacks to conceal my presence. Every time I passed to a new vantage, I scanned Ma''Ritz, or the roads leading to it. I had been sticking within about a single block, never more than a single building away. That did not mean I never lost sight of the brothel though. It was as I crossed from one building to the next, that I botched a landing on the side of a rooftop. My foot hit a shutter, causing a clanging. I froze where I was, hoping for whatever stealth magic I had to kick in. "We''re not the only ones out here," a girl''s voice said from somewhere below. I tensed, instinctively crouching lower as I peered down at the street below. There, emerging from a narrow alleyway, were the two I had spotted earlier that night. They were just coming out from the back exit of a cartographer and surveyor''s office. Had they seen me? I wondered. Or was there another they were speaking of. I made no moves to reveal myself, rather watching them to see what they did next. ¡°Are we going to fight?¡± the behemoth spoke in a deep baritone voice that carried more youth than gravel. ¡°Maybe?¡± the girl responded, as I did not. She was facing towards where I hid. Stealth I: 7/9 (+1) The moment her green eyes flashed over my cover of shadows, she took a step aback, as though surprised. ¡°No,¡± she said, hurrying. ¡°No. I don¡¯t think we need to. It¡¯s only a voyeur,¡± she said almost teasingly, though it may have also been false bravado. ¡°And we¡¯re cloaked. Should be good to go.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s get gone then,¡± the behemoth said. With that, they continued on their course, darting down the sidewalk and boulevard of Blossom Hill. They headed towards the South East, towards the Chasm side of the hill. Once they were out of sight, I allowed a breath to release. That timing could have been better, I decided. Rather than follow after them to determine how they found me, rather than risk a confrontation, I decided that I had received enough practice for one night. Later, from my perch atop Ma''Ritz, I could not help but notice the gains I had in a single night, versus the days of combat drills. One was much more efficient to train than the other. Was that because of my personal disposition, the Marks, or both? I knew too little to say. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (5/9) (+1):
    • Climbing I (4/9) (+1)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
  • Stealth I (7/9) (+1)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (5/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver I (1/9)
    • Evasion I (1/9)
      • Impending Sense (1/9)
    • Lucky Break (1/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (5/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Time continued to pass, and I had yet to develop a means to avoid sleep. Marianne¡¯s concerns grew in credibility each day that awoke through a haze of fatigue with my limbs heavy with weariness. Such as this morning, in particular. For as I stirred, it felt as though lead had replaced my bones, making even the simple act of sitting up an arduous task. The dull throbbing of my temples did little to help matters. With a resigned sigh, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and dragged myself to my feet. My ribs felt tight and my spine misaligned. Massage did little to resolve the pain. Given my sore state, I could not help but think of my impending training session, and I decided to forgo bathing that morning, for there was no sense in bothering. Shuffling down the dimly lit hallway and stairs, I made my way toward the kitchen where Cook presided over her culinary domain. And more importantly, her pantry. And most critically, my breakfast. My stomach grumbled. "This one sees the kit," Cook said as I entered her kitchen, pushing through the swinging door. She scanned me almost dismissively until her gaze reached my face; then, her eyes narrowed. "Was your sleep so poor?" She demanded. "Yes,¡± I admitted freely. ¡°Of poor quality and limited volume. But the bulk of these problems might be resolved with an appropriate breakfast.¡± "Ah," Cook said, her voice gravelly and wistful at once. "This one understands the craving and necessities of a predator, but a favor is owed, and this favor has grown. This one soon requires a... balancing." She seemed to be struggling for words, and I was reminded that Imperial was not her first language. I ignored the temptation to flaunt my knowledge and ability by speaking Kaivan. "The favor I owe has not been forgotten,¡± I told her, feeling a slight amount of frustration. ¡°But I still await learning of what task you require of me. I remind you that you have not told me yet.¡± "No, this one has not made the request plain," She said. See paused, making a show of thinking, though I doubted she was doing anything of the sort. She spoke again, "there is always oats and vegetables for breakfast, provided by our employers... Perhaps, one should be satisfied with this meal scant of meat?" I grimaced and protested, ¡°You are jesting, surely!¡± My stomach turned at the thought of eating greasy and soggy vegetables. And as for oats, not even cream could render it palatable. I could not let this threat stand, though I had little recourse. "I suppose I could always seek my meal from a street vendor,¡± I mused aloud. ¡°Though I do wonder what impression that would make upon the rest of the staff, to see a fellow employee forced to resort to such base nourishment.¡± "Perhaps..." Cook mused, fetching a package wrapped in brown paper from behind the counter. She slid it across to me. "There is no need for haste this morning,¡± she said, almost smirking, as though she had been deriving entertainment from my desperation. ¡°For now,¡± she said, ¡°Here is a little something to tide the kit''s belly over." I thanked her profusely, not bothering to hide my wide smile. The package felt cold to the touch. Through the butcher paper, I could smell the copper and iron of raw flesh; my mouth began salivating. So eager was I that I started unwrapping this glorious cut of meat as I walked back to the tavern to find a table. I sat down and bit into my meal akin to a child eating a pear. The flesh compressed and tore and the succulent juices washed upon my tongue. The human portion of me, from before I was stolen to this nightmare of a world, felt revulsion. For here I was, consuming meat raw as though I were a savage animal or beast. But that portion of me grew smaller and weaker everyday, ground down by the necessities of this new life. And besides, that small portion of me could not deny the pleasure I received from this sustenance. As I ate, Marianne Frostlight joined me at the table, her graceful charms evident even as she slid onto the bench across from me with an effortless elegance. Her glinting blue eyes flicked over my haggard appearance, concern knitted upon her brow. "Rough night?" Marianne asked, her voice lilting with a mix of sympathy and curiosity. The atmosphere between us remained light-hearted, despite the shadows that seemed to dog my every step. "Perhaps it was,¡± I confessed, despite knowing this admission would only fuel Marianne¡¯s ire when she next checked in during the night. I decided to change the subject to something directly actionable. "Actually, I wish to inquire of your information broker. I still worry that I will be unable to locate my family upon their arrival,¡± I repeated the false story I had created to both receive sympathy and to explain my motivation to meet such an character. "Ah," Marianne hummed noncommittally, swirling her spoon in her bowl. "I''m still considering whether or not an introduction is wise. I''m not sure they''ll be able to help. Or if they''d be willing. They''re a bit cagey, you know." I resisted the urge to growl. This was not Marianne''s fault. Likely, her information broker was particular in who their clients were. It would not do for me to alienate Marianne. I sighed. "I... I understand,¡± I said, feigning disappointment. ¡°I just wish there was something more I could do." I might have oversold my hand, as Marianne''s face took on a greater note of concern than before. "Are you feeling alright, Jackie?" she asked, her gaze sharpening on my face. "You look... drained. The bags under your eyes are bigger than..." she trailed off, blushing slightly, before shaking her head. "Well, that is to say, they are quite large." I nodded. She was right. I did look awful, and there was no use in denying it. "I may have found myself with too much to do and too little sleep,¡± I said, rubbing my temple. "I knew it!" she said, then huffed. "You''ve been working too hard! It''s not healthy." I rolled my eyes, hopefully furthering the impression of playful banter. "Then, in your infinite wisdom, what choice do I have?" "This isn¡¯t a joking matter,¡± Marianne scolded, before shifting. ¡°Though you¡¯re right. I am quite wise. Which is why I brought you this." She pulled a fist sized corked vial from her pocket. "Let me see your cup," she finished, waving the vial before me. It was murky and brown and looked like something from a muddy puddle. Still, despite the questionable looking mixture, I pushed my tankard towards her. Some water sloshed over, causing Marianne to frown. "Drain that first. Make some room," she instructed. ¡°Bossy girl,¡± I complained light-heartedly. With three large gulps and with some water trickling down my chin, I finished the tankard and shoved it towards her once more. "So this,¡± she said, waving the vial before me and explaining, ¡°It''s an energizing tonic. It gives a bit of a boost." She finished, uncorking the vial and pouring the fluid into the tankard, before pushing the tankard back towards me. "Drink up. Best to get it done fast. It''s quite bitter." I eyed the concoction warily, hesitating for a moment before accepting it with a grateful nod. In my head, I tried to compare it to coffee. I hoped the comparison would help. It smelled foul though. "Thank you, Marianne," I murmured, downing the viscous tonic in one swift motion. I gagged. "Keep it down, now," Marianne instructed. "Oh, I shall,¡± I said. ¡°I doubt I could bear tasting this once more on its way back up.¡± "Crude,¡± she said, smiling. ¡°But give it a bit.¡± She started diving into her own breakfast, a bowl of porridge, or oats. I was never clear on the difference between the two. She took a bite. "So! Anything exciting happen last night? You looked a bit banged up earlier." "Earlier?" I asked. I had some bruises along my ribs, but I could not remember showing my torso to Marianne. In fact, I made a habit of concealing as much as I could. Some of my false-arm''s tendrils were occasionally visible beneath the skin of my torso. She blushed but looked away. "Nevermind," she said quickly, her cheeks reddening. I shrugged and finished eating my far-too-small portion of meat, when I felt a cold jolt travel up my spine. My ears wanted to perk up. I sat straight instead. "Just started to feel it?" Marianne asked, amused. "Indeed,¡± I said, almost gasping. ¡±This is..." it felt far stronger than caffeine. Sweat prickled under my scalp. "...it feels quite good.." "Yeah. A lot of people get addicted to the stuff," Marianne shrugged. "Pretty common habit, really. It gets less effective over time, though." "I could see it," I said, starting to bounce in my seat. "Well, Instructor Blackrest and Sir Kate had better watch out," I joked. "I might just finally show them up, after drinking that bolt of lightning." "Speaking of Sir Kate," Marianne said, a hint of mischief in her eyes, "I couldn''t help but hear about how much you two seem to enjoy each other''s company during your training sessions." I resisted the urge to both blush and grimace, but just barely. "Well, she is a knight and quite skilled. Though I would think that any enjoyment you inferred is incredibly overstated." "Jackie," Marianne smirked, "you don''t need to be coy. It''s clear there''s something more between you and Sir Kate Guardson than just a student to student mentorship. And besides, a connection like that could prove valuable." "Oh?" I raised an eyebrow. I was all too familiar with the concept, but I had not realized that Marianne was so impure to think of relationships as commodities. "Of course! Sir Kate is in the know, well-connected, and respected among the Knights. If you continue building your relationship with her, who knows what doors would open up for you... especially if you were looking for someone in particular? Like say, your parents?" "That..." I trailed off, realizing the possibilities. Could I use Kate to help find Emboru''s sibling? If the Knights knew of the infested, then they would have already acted to root out the infection. But maybe such a relationship could provide value along the way? And if I swept in first to recover Emboru¡¯s sibling, then the entire situation may be resolved beneficially. ¡°You are correct,¡± I said after a moment¡¯s consideration. ¡°That would come in handy. But at what cost?¡± She laughed, "Please! Don¡¯t act like it¡¯s a punishment. But if it¡¯s a confidence issue, then you''ve got this, Jackie. Just remember what Esmerelda taught us,¡± she said. I groaned at the reminder of the overbearing Esmerelda Bogswraith. ¡°You gotta flaunt your stuff!" Marianne said, before breaking down into a fit of giggles after seeing my disheartened and shamed expression. Soon after, I left the breakfast table and soon found myself escorted by Esmerelda through the bustling streets of Southbridge towards the Mercenary Quarter. The city was alive with the clamor of merchants hawking their wares, meohr pulled carts clattering over cobblestones, and the scents of various foods mingling with the ever-present tang of Southbridge¡¯s industry. As we approached the end of Blossom Hill, Esmerelda gave me some advice. "Pay close attention to the checkpoint up ahead," Esmerelda said, her voice low but insistent. "Watch the people, the guards, everything." I nodded at the sensible advice, though I was wondering at the reason she had told me this. Did she think I was a fool? I had to wonder. When we reached the checkpoint, the peacekeepers scowled at me, before catching sight of Esmerelda and waving her, and by extension us, through. "It''s always easier to leave than enter," Esmerelda commented. "When we return, be ready to pay their ''honest due,''" she said without a hint of the scorn I knew that she felt. As we moved further away, entering the crowd proper of the Mercenary Quarter, Esmerelda finally explained her reasons for informing me of the practical instruction. "Next time we come this way," Esmerelda said, "I want you to lead. It''ll be good practice for you." "Lead?" I asked. "Of course," she replied with a confident smile. "You''ve proven yourself to be a resourceful and adaptable girl. Besides, I won''t be able to attend your schedule every morning. Soon, you''ll be doing this on your own." If I would soon be traveling the city on my own, I could use the time and the chance to begin forming additional investigative work. This led to my thoughts drifting towards Emboru''s sibling. While no deadline had been given, a sense of urgency had been growing, along with a fear that my time was running out. That I needed to find them before it was too late. So with a nod, I acknowledged her advice, and the opportunity she had unwittingly provided. It seemed I had received several pieces of advice this morning, and I could not help but feel that I was beginning to make headway towards securing a foothold in both this city and world. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (5/9):
    • Climbing I (4/9)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
  • Stealth I (7/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (5/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver I (1/9)
    • Evasion I (1/9)
      • Impending Sense (1/9)
    • Lucky Break (1/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (5/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.3.4 The steely scent of sweat and iron filled my nostrils as I stood in the training area, watching Kate endure another grueling session with our trainer, Instructor Phillip Blackrest. To my surprise, he barely spared me a glance. The focus was all on Kate this time, pushing her to her physical limits. "Ten more!" he barked at her, gesturing towards the gauntlet she was forced to run through. The gauntlet was a cruel concoction of gears and mechanisms designed to test even the strongest of warriors. And there she was, Kate, bearing hundreds of pounds of weights on her broad shoulders as she gritted her teeth and pushed herself harder. Her cyan eyes locked onto mine for a brief moment before she charged into the gauntlet. My heart pounded in my chest as I watched the padded bars swing in her direction, narrowly missing her blue tinted skin by mere inches. She leapt over one obstacle, then ducked under the next, her breath coming out in short, sharp bursts. "You call that running?!" Phillip barked, his voice cold and demeaning. But Kate paid no heed to the insult; a fire burned within her, fueled by determination and an unyielding desire to prove herself. "Gods love this weight," she quietly cursed as she came around the corner and passed me by. Then, she was back into the gauntlet, diving under a swinging bar before jumping and running up a wooden wall. Her muscles strained as she hoisted herself up, fingers gripping the rough wood like talons. I could see the pain etched into every line of her face, but she refused to let it hold her back. "Losin'' yer steam already?" Phillip mocked. "An'' here yer mother thought you could handle the bare minimum!" Kate came over the top of the wall and gasped as a fist sized ball struck her shoulder. Because the gauntlet could not be complete without weights, simulated battering rams, simulated attacks, wires, poles, and what looked almost like a pit trap. No, it also needed to simulate cannon fire. Which Kate ought to have dodged. "Too slow, Gaurdson!" Phillip hollered. Were I her, I likely would have quit. Instead, I saw her keep going, approaching the next balance section. Poles had been driven into the ground, straight up. She now would have to run across them, mindful of their poor stability as she pushed off one and landed on the next. It was absolutely treacherous. A part of me wondered how quickly my Marks would grow if I gave that very same course a try. I marveled at her perseverance, the sheer force of will that kept her going despite the overwhelming unpleasantness of the experience. And then another part of me remembered Marianne''s advice. Increasing the bond Kate felt towards me would only be helpful, I thought. Soon, an opportunity presented itself to better entwine Kate to my cause. Kate stumbled as she landed on one pole, falling down into the pit. She fell sideways, clipping another pole with her chest. Were they sharpened, she would have just impaled herself. She bounced off the pole and went the last few feet into the ground, driving up a small wave of dust. "Pathetic," Phillip Blackrest sneered. Now, was my chest. I wetted my mouth, and allowed some of my horror and outrage to surface. I perhaps exaggerated it some. "Enough!" I shouted. The trainer shot me a withering glare, but Kate stumbled out of the gauntlet, gasping for air as she dropped the weights to the ground with a resounding thud. "Are you trying to kill her?" I demanded, forcing my voice to shake with what could be either anger or fear. "Progress demands sacrifice," the trainer replied hotly. "If she''s going to excel like she strives for, then she must." I clenched my fists at my side, pretending that I was struggling to control a fit of rage and fury. Personally, I agreed with Phillip. Though their current practice seemed unworthy of a sapient being. But I could not just leave it off there as a complaint. I needed to couple it with actions. I rushed to where Kate had fallen and I jumped down into the pit, helping her to her feet and pulling the weights from her bindings. "Kate," I murmured, reaching out to touch her trembling shoulder. "Are you well?" It was perhaps over the top, but I thought Kate was buying it. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with pain and exhaustion, but also steely resolve. She licked her teeth then bit her lip. "No¡­ Blackrest is mostly right..." she led off. "But I wouldn''t mind taking a break right about now." Her gaze turned awfully lecherous. Something inside me squirmed in what could best be described as an unpleasant and messy excitation. "Perhaps at a later time," I told her, scurrying up and out from the pit, leaving her behind and below me gazing up. "I still need to finish my own sets." Though my drills were nowhere near as demanding as Kate''s. Soon, Kate returned to the start of her gauntlet, and I turned my attention back to the ribbon. The long, silken strand seemed almost alive in my hands as I flicked it through the air, coiling it around a nearby wooden post. Two out of three times it worked perfect and beautifully, with my movements full of fluid grace. But one out of three times, I wound up tangled in the ribbon, failing in a spectacularly embarrassing fashion. Eventually, Phillip turned his chiding gaze back towards me. "Enough of that nonsense!" Phillip complained. "This isn''t some performance for an audience. Break it down into something useful. Don''t try to make it look good. Get it functional first! Daft git." I frowned slightly but did as he asked, focusing on the more practical aspects of the ribbon''s use. I wrapped it tight around the post, yanking it hard to test the strength of my grip. Then, with a quick twist of my wrist, I sent the ribbon snapping outwards to tangle around an imaginary foe. "Better," Phillip said, his tone still dismissive. "But you''ll need to practice more if you want to be as effective as a sword or spear. Not too late to pick up knives instead¡­" Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. I ignored his suggestion. The battle-ribbon might have been unwieldy, but I saw potential in it. I could imagine using it to distract and bind and perhaps even parkour. The best part was how so few people recognized it as a weapon. It was underestimated. And, if used as a weapon, bloodless. As I continued to work through the various techniques, my ears caught the murmur of voices nearby. A group of caravaneers had gathered near the edge of the training grounds, their faces etched with concern. They were speaking with several of the free-lance guards. It seemed they were trying to pick up extra security guarantees. Curiosity piqued, I paused in my practice and listened in. "...round ears are causing trouble again," one of the mercenaries said, a burly man with a thick beard and numerous tattoos. "They''ve been harassing our caravans, picking us off one by one. It''s getting harder and harder to make it through their territory without losing half our goods." "Tell me about it," a knight commiserated. "And now there''s this competition brewing between the Knights and the Baron''s Men for funding. It''s making it impossible to know who to trust or where to turn for help." "The baron needs to step up and deal with this mess," a third chimed in, his voice low and venomous. "His precious tolls are gettin'' wasted and squandered while we''re left to fend for ourselves. It''s only a matter of time before something breaks an'' gives." As I listened to their complaints, I couldn''t help but feel sympathy for their plight. The caravaneers were victims of a power struggle, caught between the shifting tides of politics and ambition. And yet, as much as I wanted to help, I knew that my own place in this world was far from secure. "Jackie?" Kate''s voice called out, her breath coming in heavy gasps as she emerged from the gauntlet. Sweat and blood marred her face, but her eyes were still bright and determined. "Hm?¡± I asked, seeing Kate making her way over to me. ¡°Distracted by something?¡± she asked. I scoffed, and picked my battle-ribbon back up. ¡°Maybe,¡± I said. "Well don¡¯t. But¡­ I can see you¡¯re getting better. It might feel like it¡¯s going slow, but you¡¯re getting better," she said, watching me work through a series of blocks and grabs. "Your form has improved significantly," Kate observed, joining us after completing her grueling gauntlet run. "But don''t forget your footwork; it''s the foundation of your balance." "Right," I murmured, shifting my weight to adjust my stance. As I blocked and countered imaginary foes, my thoughts turned to the conversation I had overheard earlier ¨C the round ears'' attacks on caravans, the struggle between the Low Knights and the baron''s men, and the uneasy relationship between Southbridge and the capital. These were but pieces of a larger puzzle, one that stretched across the empire like a tangled web of intrigue and deception. Athleticism: 6/9 (+1) "Jackie," Kate said, her voice cutting through my reverie. "You''re getting distracted again¡­¡± she followed where my eyes lingered on the gossipers. She pouted. ¡°And it¡¯s for all the wrong reasons.¡± "Sorry," I replied, shaking off the weight of the world and focusing on the task at hand. There would be time for contemplation later; for now, I needed to hone my skills and prepare for whatever lay ahead. "Want me to show you the right reasons?¡± she asked, smirking. ¡°Pardon?¡± I asked in confusion, stopping mid-pivot. ¡°The right reasons to be distracted,¡± she elaborated, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Oh¨C¡± I started to find a convenient excuse, when a fortuitous interruption occurred. A cacophony of screams and cries for help tore through the air, jolting me from my focused state. The sounds seemed to emanate from runners coming from the direction of the caravaneer''s district. Kate and I exchanged a glance, our training interrupted. "What?" Kate asked, her eyes narrowing as she tried to discern the cause of the chaos. "That¡­ sounds like something interesting is going down? Maybe a brawl¡­¡± she had a dreamy grin upon her face. Before I could respond, we heard the distinctive thud of boots hitting rooftops. A group of quickly moving youth, brightly costumed with their identities covered, leaped from building to building, their powerful forms slicing through the air like arrows loosed from a bow. When they hit the boulevard, several carts went crashing in the wake of their paths. "Velvetcall,¡± Kate spat as she laid eyes upon the first of the forms. ¡°And Guesswork¡­" Kate muttered, her voice dripping with disdain. "Creeps... I can''t stand either. Any of them, really. But those two are the worst." "Who?" I asked, missing some context. Were I not so skeptical, I would have compared them to vigilantes, or heroes perhaps. But that would be preposterous and foolishness, even more so than I expected from these lands. "It''s a story and a half," Kate replied, still disgusted. As Velvetcall and his friends disappeared from view, racing toward the epicenter of the disturbance, Kate turned to me, her hand outstretched. "Come on, Jackie!" Kate said. "If those creeps are going, and if the Knights are involved, then let''s check it out! Maybe we''ll get to fight!" As we were about to depart, heading towards the partition between the training grounds and the Mercantile Quarter, Esmerelda called out. "Wait!" Esmerelda''s voice cut through the tension like a knife, causing us both to freeze in our tracks. She strode towards us, her eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made me shiver. "Kate, I have no authority over you, of course, so do as you desire. But Jackie must stay here. She is not ready yet for such a lively scene." Lucky Break: 2/9 (+1) "Esmerelda?" I asked. "It would be a fine way to practice some of what I''ve been learning. And with everyone else headed that way, I don''t think it''ll be overly dangerous. I can do this." "Your dedication is commendable, Jackie," Esmerelda replied, her expression softening ever so slightly. "But this is not a mess for you or I to involve ourselves in, I think. We have little to gain, and much to lose." Kate hesitated, torn between her desire to aid those in need and her loyalty to me. I could see the struggle play out across her face, the weight of the decision pressing down on her like a crushing burden. "Go on, then," I said, encouraging her to do what she wanted to do anyway. It is always better to be on the winning side of temptation, after all. Kate glanced back from me towards where the heroes had run. I rolled my eyes and shooed her. "It''ll be fine," I assured her. "Not like Esmerelda would let anything happen to us." Esmerelda snorted in amusement, but shook her head rather than deigning to reply. Kate finally made her decision. With a quick nod, she took off into the crowds, swerving around obstacles with a prescient grace. I had a feeling she could have blindfolded herself and still navigated the crowd. She must have had some good Marks. I wondered if I could convince her to help me get some of the same? Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (6/9) (+1):
    • Climbing I (4/9)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
  • Stealth I (7/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (5/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver I (1/9)
    • Evasion I (1/9)
      • Impending Sense (1/9)
    • Lucky Break (2/9) (+1)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (5/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.3.5 Time had smeared into a sluggish march, each day bleeding indistinguishably into the next beneath the firmament-choked skies of Southbridge. Every morning bore the same smog and iron scent of industry, every twilight sang with the same clanking lullabies from the factories¡­ At least it would have, if I had lived anywhere other than Blossom Hill. Just thinking of the lower districts left me grateful for my current lodgings. While some elements of pollution reached Ma¡¯Ritz, the location largely sheltered me from the worst of the city¡¯s foulness. Just thinking of the sewer trenches and where they must flow left me shuddering as I stumbled from bed, for I had just awoken to another day. However, moving may have been a mistake. My muscles ached sorely and my back felt tender. I may have released an unsuitable noise during my distress. Fortunately, nobody else heard my indiscretion as the room was currently empty. Marianne must have already been about her business for the day. It surprised me that she had allowed me to sleep in, even if only for a few more moments. For my morning ablutions, despite the pleasure that soaking in warm water could bring, I skipped a bath, and only did the bare minimum before coming down the stairs and into the kitchen for breakfast. For there was only one thing that helped resolve the muscle fatigue, that granted me the motivation to continue on. "Please tell me there is some meat available for me," I grumbled as I found Cook starting on her sauce pots and soups for later in the day. Cook chuffed, her whiskers twitching in her equivalent of pursed lips. ¡°The kit is welcome to keep her own pantry," she said, crushing my hope for a truly satisfying meal and nearly leaving me in despair. I could not help but allow this to show upon my face, for I felt a concerning amount of desperation to consume meat, which was hard to find in Southbridge, let alone of the quality and caliber that Cook provided. And it was not only the flavor that enhanced it¡­ there was something else, something else, that caused an intangible yet definite improvement to both energy and mood. While other sources of meat could provide some of this effect, no other source came near as effective as Cook¡¯s. Hence, the unsettling desperation that I felt. As Cook observed my demeanor, she paused and frowned, her brows scrunching and her eyes narrowing. She made a low, almost yowl-like growl at the base of her throat. She closed her eyes, took a breath, before snorting and staring me eye to eye. She groaned, then offered, "Perhaps a bite still remains." "Phenomenal,¡± I answered gladly. But a meal today would not secure a meal tomorrow. So I asked a reasonable question, avoiding any possible accusations of poor inventory management. ¡°But if I might ask, what reason is there for us to be running this low on meat? Has the butcher encountered difficulties?¡± ¡°The butcher, the kit says,¡± Cook chuffed in amusement. ¡°But perhaps there is some truth there. In the future, perhaps the kit may repay this one¡¯s generosity by fulfilling our orders.¡± ¡°Yes, of course,¡± I answered without hesitation. Though privately, I reserved several caveats around my schedule and availability. Though should I learn the butcher¡¯s location, which I suspected was not the typical sort, then I would remove a potential weak link to my continued sustenance. Naturally, I said none of this. ¡°Only tell me when and where, and I will endeavor to do my best.¡± Cook snorted. ¡°The kit speaks with the same tone as royalty, yet still offers to run errands.¡± I let the comment slide off me as I made my way towards the ice-chest, where there were three wrapped packages, leaking red at the bottom. Each of the packages were no larger than a deck of cards. And that was it. If this was Cook''s only meat cooler, then she truly was lacking. Given her own obligate carnivorous diet, it surprised me that she was willing to share. "Only one," Cook said. "Pick." Even if what she shared was rationed. "I appreciate this," I said, my lips pressing into a tight line. I grabbed a wrapped cut and left, hoping that the butcher or runner or whoever the supplier was would come through in the next few days. Or at the very least, that Cook would entrust me with the errand itself. I left the kitchen and I took a seat at the back of the tavern, near the service entrance. With great care and deliberation, I tried to savor the morsel, letting the richness of the scant juices linger on my tongue. This one came heavily marbled, and had a salty smoky flavor. It reminded me of pork. The meal was over all too soon. I licked my fingers clean, and then the butcher paper. My stomach still complained, still far too empty. My schedule was far too active to subsist on so few calories, at least not comfortably. Though already I could feel the effects of the meat begin, an almost humming sensation emanating from my stomach. Minutes passed as I enjoyed the post-meal bliss. I may have lost track of my surroundings, for I failed to notice her entering or approaching. "Must be nice, getting a special course from Cook each morn." Tiff''s voice grated with venomous sarcasm as she sauntered towards me, contempt writ across her face as she glanced at the used wax paper I had left on the table. As she had snuck up while I had been perhaps distracted, I jumped just slightly where I sat. I was unsure of what to say nor how to respond, which left me giving her a curious look which likely came across as confused. ¡°W-why¨C¡± I stuttered, before changing tracks. ¡°Gor what reason are you here?¡± I finally managed to say, although Tiffany Digger had already reached me and was looming over my table. "And now your tongue is broken,¡± Tiff said. ¡°Was Cook''s meal that rotten? It certainly looked it, you deviant." "What? no!" I quickly said, worried that somehow words would be put into my mouth and then relaid back to Cook. That was the last thing I needed. "So then it is a special privilege," Tiffany sneered. "Seems your new job''s got perks aplenty, even if it''s a deviant one." Despite her rude behavior, I did know where she was coming from. It was an oddity of the humans in Southbridge, and likely throughout their little kingdom. Eating meat was taboo for humans. It was fine for the beastkin slaves, but not the humans. It was surely an oddity, not the nearly state enforced vegetarianism, but the fact that such an awful society had developed an almost humane diet. But still, Tiffany required an answer, and I sought to give one that would minimize needless conflict while still preventing me from becoming an easy mark for her bullying. "Then may I ask what you find to be an appealing meal?¡± I asked. ¡°Perhaps I can use this alleged favoritism to request it on your behalf.¡± She was taken aback for a second, before snorting and shaking her head. ¡°You¡¯d probably steal that too,¡± she sneered. An odd choice for a response, as it implied I had stolen from her to begin with. To my knowledge, I had not, and there had been no attempts to frame me for doing so. Fortunately, before I could muster a response, Esmerelda swept into the room, an urgent air about her that brooked no further argument. "Finished then?" Esmerelda called out as she entered. As she was looking at Tiffany, I assumed she had come for her. ¡°Thought you said it¡¯d be quick.¡± Esmerelda continued her approach, coming around the corner of a booth until she saw the tenseness between both Tiffany and I. Esmerelda¡¯s eyes also lingered on the used butcher paper. For a second, I thought I would earn Esmerelda¡¯s judgment on my diet as well, but she glossed over it, seemingly uncaring. Instead, she continued with a teasing tone, "Or were you two... preoccupied otherwise?" Tiffany responded to Esmerelda by glaring at me, as though it were I that proposed indecent relations between Tiffany and I. I shook my head slightly. Tiffany scowled, somehow even more offended. ¡°Well, sorry to cut you two love birds short, but the kid and I have places to be!¡± Esmerelda said, already beginning to drag me from my seat. ¡°So I¡¯ll have to get it from you later, Tiff.¡± And with that, we left Tiffany scowling where she was as Esmerelda dragged me out, saving me from an unplanned and unwarranted confrontation that I had no desire for. I was sure to express my appreciation as we walked down the winding main boulevard towards the Mercenary Quarter. Though, as we walked and chatted, I could feel more than one person glance my way. Several even turned up their noses at me, as though they could smell me over the stink of the city. I worried I had made a mistake in skipping bathing that morning, although I doubted that I smelled worse than anyone else. A quick glance towards Esmerelda seemed to imply that nothing was amiss. I felt certain that she at least would inform me if I stank. However, it was not only these nose-turners who I had caught the eye of. There were other and far more suspicious characters. Such as a group of men wearing ill-fitting clothes chatting and leaning against a shopfront. They outright glared at me as we passed, and one of them even spat. They muttered several curses, and I felt I wondered what to do. Other than committing their faces to memory for later. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. However, before I had the chance to decide, Esmerelda laid a heavy hand on my shoulder and guided me forward, firm but slowly, a silent and unassailable support. Her large stature easily acted as a physical bulwark to the insults and mean glares that several men hoped to ''threaten'' me with. As we passed the checkpoint, one of the peacekeepers there unfortunately recognized me, and I him. He was one of the corrupt ones that had demanded I submit a tribute or sexual favor to, in order for ¡®protection.¡¯ Very likely, he was one of the ones to set the Pit thugs upon Ma¡¯Ritz later that night, after I refused. It still amazed me that I and Ma¡¯Ritz as a whole lacked legal recourse to at the very least investigate this obvious source of corruption. It was frustrating. Of course, we were let through the checkpoint, despite the animosity. Esmerelda would let no other possibility stand. However, even as we passed, the peacekeeper offered another insult, unable to help himself. "Still waiting on them honest dues," he said, before adding a very unappreciated, ¡°cunt.¡± Though that was under his breath, likely as Esmerelda looked like she could trounce the lout. Esmerelda put herself between me and the man, once more acting as a barrier between myself and adversity. She even offered advice as she pushed me forward. "Keep walking," Esmerelda said. "Don''t give them any reasons to make it harder." After a moment, after we had gained some distance from the checkpoint, entering the busier Mercenary Quarter, I settled into a dour silence. Why should I require protection to simply walk down the street, I wondered with bitterness. I feared that I would always need someone there to protect me, and this left me ill-comfited. When I had still yet to respond, Esmerelda added, "Jackie?" She glanced at me with concern. I blew out a heavy sigh and decided to simply play the hand that I was dealt. "I understand," I replied, letting her know I understood the futility of it all. Our conversation died after that, though fortunately we had soon arrived at the training yard. I ducked under the chain partition, entering the sand filled area, and began the warmups that Instructor Blackrest had shown me. Esmerelda left to conduct her own business, leaving me to the tender mercies of the training yard and the care of the instructor. The next hour progressed quickly, though as I practiced and as I worked up a sweat, I was still haunted by all of the negative attention I had received just that day. The city certainly appeared hostile. Another hour passed, I began my drills and katas, though I still found myself lost in thoughts and distracted. Which led to Sir Kate Guardson to bark directly in my ear. "Jackie, focus!" Kate said, scolding me, her eyes fierce beneath furrowed brows. The clang of metal echoed through the dank training hall, reverberating off the brick-walled enclosure like a symphony of war. I nodded, doing my best to keep my focus. At some point, Kate had joined me, performing her sword kata alongside me, even though her sword kata and my battle-ribbon kata were nothing alike. She was practicing a textbook weighted chop, while I practiced more of a deflect-and-snag. I was sweaty, my muscles ached, my right arm burned, and I regretted being pulled from my distraction, even though focusing was better for my learning long-term./ Athletics: 7/9 (+1) A minute later, I was rewarded for my efforts with a tingle along my arm as my Mark grew. I resisted the urge to immediately look at it, instead driving into my drill with renewed vigor. "Yeah, you¡¯re doing better now,¡± Kate said between resetting her stance. ¡°But something¡¯s up. What is it. Is it me?" She sounded uncharacteristically worried as she finished. Which was a problem, as I needed to ingratiate myself with Sir Kate as an into the otherside of the actual law. I also wanted to avoid intimacies. Given her seemingly growing feelings for me, it was difficult to balance, but I resolved to continue playing a light and friendly version of ¡®hard-to-get.¡¯ I hummed before responding. ¡°Why¡­ Should I have a problem with you?¡± I asked curiously. Kate merely gave a winning smile. "Ah.¡± We continued for another set of drills, before taking a quick water break. I broached another subject with Kate, granting her a means to redeem herself from whatever she thought she had done. That means, that subject, was Marks, as I still lacked knowledge on this critical subject. "Every warrior is defined by their Marks," Kate said, her cyan eyes reflecting the storm''s intensity. "They''re not just pretty tattoos; they''re promises of potential. For instance, my Sweord Mark, its living silver and bloodiron. It has several directions it prefers to grow, with some adaptations based upon my own Spirit and my own actions." "Living silver?" I asked. It was not the first time I had heard that. My unhatched egg (currently held onto by Emboru as collateral), had been bound to me by Living Silver. "Also called HIgh Silver,¡± she said. ¡°It''s the conductor of the Mark," Kate explained. "It facilitates energy transfer, or whatever terms artificers use. Just remember it''s the best one that we can feasibly reach." "And bloodiron?" I asked. That was the first time I had heard of it. "Right¡­¡± she began rambling. ¡°The gem pigment. Almost like a garnet? I think? It gives the flavor to the Mark, at least mine. Focuses more on blades and combat, and is usually paired with Sweord Marks, though it''s a bit spendy. Some people cop out with rust, or garnets. Ends up with a weaker Mark though." "How do materials work in general, then?" I asked. "It''s... a lot." Kate shuddered. "But you''ll want to look at a catalog. Or... encyclopedia. Most people just look at the type of build they want and then find what they can afford." "And as for the shape of the Mark or Glyph itself?" I asked, confused as to how that worked together with the materials. "What about it?" Kate asked. "Do the shapes of the Glyphs mean anything?" "Course," she said, looking at me as though I were stupid for asking. I chose not to further dig that hole. I would find out how the arcane circuitry worked later. "Well alright..." A sudden fancy hit me. "Do Alchemists mix the inks together?" "What...? No? I don''t think so anyways. Crown, I hope not." "Why?" "Do you even know what Alchemists do? The risks?" her eyes lingered on my left arm. "Nevermind, of course you do. If they mixed inks, then we''d all run the risk of deviations. Can''t trust the bastards." "How do deviations happen, exactly?" I asked. She grimaced. "Look, Jackie... this isn''t really the best place to have this sort of conversation." "Uh-huh." "Buuuut, if you want to chat some more about this--" "No," I said firmly, my lips almost curling upward. "Yeah, but you didn''t even--" "Nope!" I shook my head. "Answer is no." "Aw, c''mon!" Kate groaned. We resumed our training, while I wondered where to find some documentation for Marks and Alchemy. Surely there must have been something out there, even if there was no such thing as wikipedia here. It was not too much longer before a scraggly looking man wearing sturdy working browns began watching us, in particular, me. He remained there for several minutes, until he saw that I had his attention. "Little girlie!" he taunted. "Little girlie!" "Git!" one of the knights shouted at the man, but the man paid no mind. "Train all you want, but we ain''t gonna forget! No ma''am, we won''t!" the cretin taunted. Several knights broke away from their own training to shake the scallywag down, but the man laughed and waved us off as he slipped back into the crowded bustle of the quarter. "What was that about?¡± Kate asked me, as the knights resumed their own practice, waving off the spectator as the idiot he was. ¡°While I am uncertain,¡± I said, ¡°I think that man was with one of the gangs, the Pit Crews, I think they call themselves.¡± ¡°Really?!¡± Kate asked. ¡°How¡¯d you get mixed up with them?¡± I paused. Surely I had told her. I remembered telling her, at least an outline of what had happened. Was she merely making conversation? ¡°I told you about how they tried shaking down a client at Ma¡¯Ritz, right?¡± I asked. ¡°Yeah¡­ but I didn¡¯t realize it was this bad. Are they threatening you?¡± ¡°Maybe?¡± I said. ¡°I probably should figure out how to protect myself from them,¡± I pondered outloud, intentionally, as Kate had some means and motivation to help resolve this issue. ¡°Well, the best way to do that is to be so scary none of them mess with you,¡± Kate said, deciding to ensure I had all the skills I needed to defend myself, which she did by initiating a spar. An unfortunate consequence, though productive. After several painful exchanges, we reached a stalemate, circling each other at fortyfive degree angles, watching each others hips. It was then that Kate made an observation. "Your form is improving," Kate said, giving me a compliment. I was about to respond to the compliment when Kate suddenly lunged forward and thwacked my thigh. "Ow!" I shouted and jumped back, massaging where there was sure to soon be a bruise. "But you get distracted far too easily," Kate said, gloating as she strutted around to my side and hung her practice sword. I complained loudly. "That was cheating!¡± I protested, though with some good humor. ¡°And I was not distracted. I was just wondering when I would get a new Sigil for fighting," before adding, playfully, a common insult that translated to "Jerk." "Hey! Don''t blame me," Kate said. "That lesson might keep you alive someday. Better now with a wooden sword..." I grumbled fruitlessly, but I knew she was right. But still... that blow had smarted. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (7/9) (+1):
    • Climbing I (4/9)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
  • Stealth I (7/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (5/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver I (1/9)
    • Evasion I (1/9)
      • Impending Sense (1/9)
    • Lucky Break (2/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (5/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.3.6 Lucky Break (3/9) (+1) It was always disconcerting when I awoke to the burning itch traveling up my right arm. Something had advanced, and I was uncertain why. Attempting to take stock of my arm, I found my vision still blurry from sleep. Dreary, weary, and in dire need of strong stimulants. I could figure out the whims of these Marks later. No, I thought. I would not be so weak. I refused. I willed myself awake, sitting up. Why did everything ache? The world swayed, a pendulum oscillating between reality and the murky depths of fatigue as I forced my eyes open. The dawn cast long, jagged shadows across the room, mimicking the throes of my disoriented senses. My limbs felt leaden, my stomach a cavernous pit gnawing from within¡ªhunger, raw and insatiable, clawed at me with a ferocity that bordered on pain. A pleasant voice reminded me that I was not alone, like most mornings. "Jackie," Mari-Anne''s voice pierced through the haze, "you look like you''ve been dragged backwards through hell''s foundry." She usually took care of her morning necessities before checking in on me. It was thoughtful of her, I appreciated it, but I was still unsure of just why she was so friendly. A part of me suspected ulterior motives. It was as I considered this that I attempted to rise, but the room careened alarmingly, and I caught myself on the bed-post. "Perhaps you should consider¡ª" I heard the hesitation in Mari-Anne''s suggestion, her words trailing into silence before she continued, "...maybe cutting back on your hours?" The very way she finished that sentence gave a feeling of sacrilege, at least from the tone of her voice. "What? Why?" My voice was slightly slurred from waking up. "I feel fine." I finished, only to be betrayed by a stagger that sent me lurching towards the floor. My false-arm whipped out and caught the wooden post before I fell further, leading to an awkward stumble. Marianne arched an eyebrow, her eyes full of concern. "You''re not getting enough sleep, and your duties and training are physically taxing you." She crossed her arms and might have pouted, in a cross sort of way. I refrained from responding as I stabilized myself and began to stretch out stiff and sore muscles. "Stop ignoring me! This cannot be sustained!" Marianne protested. "In the past week, how much rest have you gotten? The count of hours." I narrowed my eyes as I thought it through. I stayed up late each night, keeping watch well after midnight, sometimes until the very early morning. I usually woke up in the still early morning. Sometimes I was fortunate enough to catch a nap between training and my tavern shift. But all together, sleep was lacking. "Probably less than ten!" Marianne continued. "How are you still functioning? What''s keeping you from rolling off the roof while you stand watch? It--this is--gah!" She threw her hands up in frustration. "Just tell me why?!" I grimaced and shrugged. She had a point. But¡­ "What''s the alternative?¡± I asked. We both already knew this. ¡°Quitting?" And besides, why would she care? She lived her life, and I lived mine. Marianne winced and shuddered. "Of course not. But we can talk to Esmerelda. She''s reasonable. At the very least, we can get you out of training." Of course. Of course, we could talk to Esmerelda. That was always Marianne¡¯s solution. If I had more energy, I might have rolled my eyes. Ignoring the instability of her suggestion, I instead pointed out, "The training is meant to help me, make me stronger." It would help further my goals, momentary pain was the investment. "None of that will make a difference if you- burn- out-!" "Maybe so," I admitted, my voice a raspy whisper betraying my weakened state. "But right now, I really don''t need to be hearing this.¡± I took several breaths to get my thoughts in order, and then decided to avoid riling up Marianne more than necessary. ¡°Have you had breakfast yet?" I asked, changing the subject. Marianne huffed, then the corner of her lips curled up. "Wanna head down then?" "Yes please." Breakfast turned out to be less than fulfilling. The stores of meat were continuing to run low, and my debt to Cook was growing. My portions were small, and my stomach was left grumbling after the scant few mouthfuls of bloody goodness. I was sitting at our usual table, in the backmost corner of the tavern. We had yet to open yet, and this was one of the few parts of the day that I could relax. It would have been perfect, if the thin section of meat were a bit larger. Or if I could stomach the sludge they called porridge. "Maybe you should try something else to eat besides meat?" Marianne asked, helpfully. ¡°Just to supplement it!¡± She hurried, after seeing my expression sour. I shook my head. "I can''t stand much of anything else," I explained. And that was the unfortunate truth. "Do you think it¡¯s a matter of seasoning?" Marianne asked. "Because¡­ you might not be able to afford being such a picky eater." I scoffed in disgust and tried to explain my newfound dietary requirements. "I¡¯ve tried breads, fruits, veggies, even cream. None of it does more than give me a stomach ache, and I still feel hungry afterwards. The only thing I¡¯ve found that even helps is meat." Which was bizarre. And Marianne had commented on that previous. But she figured it was due to my Marks, or Deviation. So, instead of commenting further on my oddities, she just rolled her eyes and muttered, ¡°Picky eater¡­¡± I grumbled, but had not much else I could say to that. Smog filled the air and dulled the sounds of industry. I headed down the main thoroughfare, traveling down Blossom Hill. I was by myself. Esmerelda had other duties to attend to today, which meant I had been finally trusted on my own. Briefly, I thought of skipping my training session and beginning my search for Emboru''s sibling. That temptation was only flitting, however. There was little chance anything productive would come from such an impulsive diversion, and I had other commitments besides. I was certain Esmerelda would learn of it if I skipped the training yard, and I would hate to sour that well. However, as I thought that, tendrils from my false-arm twitched around my guts. My false-arm, a likely infested parasite, had given me a reminder. Either that, or the twitch just happened to coincide with a thought of Emboru¡¯s mission, and my possible putting off of searching for her. Just in case the false-arm could read my thoughts, I tried thinking towards it, it is faster this way! More reliable! However, if the false-arm perceived these thoughts, it refused to let me know. Other than my stray thoughts, and some of my nervousness, travel was uneventful. I passed the checkpoint at the bottom of Blossom¡¯s Hill without problems. I failed to recognize any of the baron''s men, and they failed to recognize me. I passed into the Merc Quarter without drama, though I kept my hand firmly on the handle to my battle-ribbon. In close quarters, I could still use it as a mace, or a blackjack. After all this time, it had become a source of comfort. Strange, that. I finally reached the training yard. Phillip Blackrest, instructor, stood as an island amidst several trainees, his attention drifting like flotsam on the tide. His eyes, once sharp as the edge of a blade when Esmerelda came along with me, now held the luster of tarnished silver¡ªdulled and disinterested. "Instructor Blackrest," I said, ¡°What should I do today?¡± I asked. "Attend to your own growth, Jackie," he replied without looking my way. "My focus lies elsewhere." "Indeed, it seems so," I retorted, the sting of his neglect pricking at my pride. I had known that he was only humoring Esmerelda by training me, and now that she was absent, his attention had plummeted. Which might not have been a bad thing, overall. But still, it stung my pride. Turning away from the man, I wrapped my fingers around the familiar leather grip of my battle-ribbon, and I began stepping through the basic forms. The trick to the ribbon was foresight. Given its nature, it never thrusted, and only dragged. Some ribbons were closer to blades, such as urumi, but I would be hesitant of ever touching something as dangerous to myself as that. The ribbon, however, was relatively safe¨Cat least to the user. I would practice dancing forward, laying down the fluttering ribbon, before pulling back and snapping it through where an enemy or object could have been. Some steps, on the inward timing, I would slash with the blackjack like hilt, to add some additional potency to the mix. Overall, I would say I was improving. And the exercises were meditative. I was at it for some time, losing myself, before I saw her coming over from where she had been running the gauntlet. Sir Kate Guardson glanced my way, gave a boyish smile, then strode over. Her cyan eyes, sharp as the edge of her blade, were upon me, igniting all manner of uncomfortable emotions. Despite those emotions, I could hardly call Kate detrimental to my plans. In fact, with her knowledge, contacts, and skill, I would even consider her a boon. I just had to forget¡­ some unpleasant shared experiences. Nothing I was unused to. "Kate," I called out to greet her, taking the initiative in the discussion. "A spar? Perhaps it might hasten the growth of my Marks." She flashed a grin, fierce and brimming with confidence. "A fine suggestion, Jackie. I would relish the chance to gauge your progress¡­ personally." She finished with a lascivious smirk that left me squirming. Rather than banter and encourage such behavior, I squared off with her in the sparring circle. The weight of the ribbon in my hand was a comfort, yet as she unsheathed her blunted sword, the glint of practiced lethality in her grip reminded me of the chasm between our skills. The sword would still sting, and potentially break bones, if I was careless. The added risk increased the efficacy of training, or so I had been told. Rather than calling out a warning, Kate lunged forward, a blur of motion that belied her stocky build. I barely deflected the first strike with my hilt, the wooden grip absorbing and deflecting the force. "Your stance is too rigid, Jackie," she called out, dancing back and circling me as though I were prey. ¡°Especially for ribbon fighters. Need to be fluid. Noble. Like so¨C!¡± She brought her hand and a half sword down in a diagonal chop, too far to strike, but then she reversed it and floated towards me. I feinted left, only to be met with a swift counter that sent me stumbling. I managed to leave a trailing of ribbon behind me. It was floating in the air below her sword arm. I snapped it high than low, hoping to ensare her. She twisted out of reach, escaping the trap. "Predictable," she taunted, making her evasion appear effortless. I felt the heat rise within me¡ªa fusion of frustration and admiration. She was a force of nature, her movements painting a portrait of dominance. And while my limbs flailed in an effort to match her grace, my heart thrummed with the desire to rise to her level. I was weaving patterns with my ribbon that were part spell, part plea. Each clash, each near miss, was a lesson etched upon my spirit. The world narrowed to the space between us, where power and control danced their deadly waltz. Everything blurred together. She came down in another chop while I laid another trap. Somehow, I found myself pivoting and bending, dodging, even though she had come from an awkward angle. A familiar burn rose up on my right arm. Fortunately, I avoided the distraction. As she missed, she attempted to follow up with a deep lunge. I tossed my ribbon to my other hand and snapped it, creating a loop around her cross-guard. She fell back more slowly than before, but the force she applied caused my battle ribbon to tear from my grip and clatter to the ground. Impending Sense (2/9) (+1) "Better," Kate acknowledged. ¡°But if you¡¯re gonna play with your grips like that, make sure you keep everything controlled. I shouldn¡¯t have been able to counter your snare so easily.¡± I nodded, a slight smile forming on my lips. ¡°I was so close!¡± I said, excited. This was the first time I had come so near defeating her. ¡°Again!¡± I demanded. And so we continued, the dance of ribbon and blade, until noon approached. Despite the fatigue clawing at my muscles, something primal within me stirred¡ªa feral instinct that sharpened my focus until the world beyond our blades faded into obscurity. "You¡¯re looking hungry,¡± Kate remarked. While she was breathing heavily, and sweating, she still remained in good spirits and full of vim. She was trying to distract me with her words, I was certain. I ignored her mouth and I feinted left, but just a little too slowly. As she sidestepped, I twisted, a sinuous motion. She jumped back, yanking her sword off course and backwards. My ribbon just barely grazed her tip before she got free. Had I been a moment quicker, I might have disarmed her. "Weak," she said with the ghost of a smile. "Weak?" I retorted between heaving breaths. "Then, why, Sir Guardson, do I see sweat rolling off your brow?" "Because," Kate replied with finality. She never did give a reason. Likely it was due to the exertion in the gauntlet previous to sparring me. In hindsight, her endurance truly was remarkable. Each clash of our weapons wove a deeper understanding within me. I began to see the pattern of her steps, the subtle tells that preceded each strike. They were the whispers of intention, and for the first time since we crossed blades, I found myself not just reacting but anticipating. "Sharper now, aren''t you?" She lunged, a thrust meant to end lesser duels, but I parried with a deftness that felt foreign yet exhilarating. "Yes, much sharper." "Too¡­ much¡­ talking¡­¡± "Ha. Keep reaching, Jackie," she challenged, her form a blur of disciplined motion, never giving ground even as I pressed harder. There was an artistry to her combat, a relentless grace that made her seem untouchable. Our dance became more frenetic, a cacophony of metal and ambition. With every move I mirrored, every strike I narrowly avoided, I felt the knot of respect for her tighten in my chest. "Is that all you''ve got?" she teased, though her breathing had quickened, a symphony to match my own labored exhalations. "Maybe," I gasped. My body was weakening, in direct opposition to my desires. Our sparring was more than a mere exchange of blows; it was a crucible in which the alloy of our spirits was being tested and tempered. Athleticism (8/9) (+1) She lunged forward suddenly. I whipped my ribbon upwards, my trap prematurely sprung. Her sword swept it aside, carrying it out of position. But her body entered immediate range. Then, her face was before mine, and her damp lips clumsily crashed into mine, her nose smearing my cheek, before she jumped backwards. I fell backwards on my rear, wiping my lips off with the back of my arm. "Come now," she said, smiling as she looked down at me. "You¡¯re overreacting. You can''t claim you didn''t enjoy that." I glared at her. I had strong feelings on the matter, but none of those feelings agreed. So I settled for a confused glare. "Would you like to continue?" she asked, smirking. Droplets of sweat pressed wisps of hair against her forehead. "I''m sure the second kiss will be better." I growled, my hackles up, before I shook myself. "No," I said. "I think I''m done for the day." My stomach chose that second to growl audibly. I truly was famished. "Lunch then?" Kate asked, grinning at my stomach. "What do you like?" "Don¡¯t you need permission to leave early?" I asked, already ignoring the stolen kiss. She glanced towards Phillip Blackrest, who was focused on his batch of recruits. "Not if we''re fast enough," she said, grinning. She sheathed her practice blade and slung an arm over my shoulder, guiding me out of the training yard. We were just losing ourselves into the crowd, when I heard Phillip bellow, "Kate!" Kate hastened her steps, and we soon lost ourselves in the crowd. "So, what''re you in the mood for?" she asked. "Meat," I said plainly, almost desperately. ¡°Red. Please.¡± Kate gave me a side-eye, then a smile. "My kinda girl! I just so happen to know a place... though it''s a bit of a walk." "Not too far, I hope?" I said. My legs were unsteady as it was, and i still had to walk back up Blossom Hill. "Yeah¡­ nope!¡± Kate said with cheer. ¡°Maybe ten or fifteen minutes? Nothing too terrible." That was a bit further than I wanted to travel, especially when there was a vendor in the Mercenary Quarter itself, less than a handful of minutes away. I could soon be consuming a shish-kabob of meohr meat, and I saw no real reason to add to that delay. Besides, any time I spent walking away from the Quarter would need to be spent returning, as Blossom Hill connected here. Seeing the refusal on my face, Kate hurriedly added, "Besides! We can use that time to get to know each other a bit more!" I gave her some side eye, from where she towered above me, at least a head taller than I was. Her arm felt heavy and hot as it draped over me. "That''s not a mark in your plan''s favor," I said dryly. "What, would you rather go somewhere private instead?" she said, waggling her eyebrows. "Ugh. No." She barked a laugh. "Like I thought! But, if you go with me, it¡¯s my treat!¡± I was a bit light on Chargers, as most of my pay was going to Room and Board. I finally agreed to Kate¡¯s request. She continued her plot to get to know me better. ¡°Now, tell me. Are you actually going to the Academy this season?" She asked. The question came somewhat out of left field, but I knew it was on her mind, as it was on the mind of most of the kids enrolled. I had heard Marianne mention it more than once or twice as well. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. "Ma''Ritz will sponsor me," I answered slowly and carefully, unsure of what Kate was after in this instance. Would she respond with jealousy? Or would she come with a different angle? Rather than that, she simply nodded, albeit slowly, as she continued to guide us along the walkways. We were leaving the Mercenary Quarter, and heading along one of the several main arterials. "I don''t mean to be indelicate,¡± Kate said awkwardly, ¡°But will they pay tuition as well?" "Hm?" I asked, confused at the difference. They were sponsoring my education at the Academy, which would open all sorts of doors for me. My false-arm started to twitch, so I mentally added, to find Emboru¡¯s sibling! The twitches stopped. "Tuition is incredibly expensive," Kate added. "Usually, sponsorship comes with a scholarship. Well no. Usually, the parents sending their kids there take care of everything like that. Your situation is a bit different." I wanted to pause then and there, but Kate pressured me forward, so that either I had to step, or fall face first onto the cobblestones. Other than missing that first step, I continued with her. "I''m sure they have it covered," I said, speaking with a false confidence. In truth, I knew that Marianne worried about her income, and I wondered if this might have been why. But now I was curious just how far Room and Board went, and if I really did need to see a written contract. I shook my head, attempting to justify my own actions to myself. "Otherwise, why bother sponsoring somebody at all?" "Eh,¡± Kate shrugged, continuing to pull me along. ¡°You''d be surprised at some of the underhanded tactics people pull. My aunt used to tell me some crazy stories¡­" ~ Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism (8/9) (+1):
    • Climbing I (4/9)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
  • Stealth I (7/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (5/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver I (1/9)
    • Evasion I (1/9)
      • Impending Sense (2/9) (+1)
    • Lucky Break (3/9) (+1)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (5/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
~ I narrowly raised my guard in time to divert Kate''s thrust. She was using one of the metal blunt blades again in our spar, and as always, I was terrified of the metal swinging by. Only my ribbon, the handle of my ribbon, and my athletics allowed me to avoid massive bruises. My false arm twitched at that thought, reminding me that I also had that as an option, though unreliable tools were difficult to count as part of my kit. Our spars had become something of a daily event, each morning as part of my training. Esmerelda no longer accompanied me to the yard, and she entrusted me to further my own skills. Which of course I did. I doubted I could find a better source of information than here¨Cwhere the high and low guards came to train. "Focus!" Kate''s voice cut through the cacophony of the training grounds and partially into Mercenary Quarter beyond. I pulled myself back from my thoughts and managed enough to quip. "Always am," I grunted back, but the words are less confident than I wish. Kate, her cyan eyes fierce as winter skies, moved beside me with a blademaster''s grace, her stocky form an avalanche of precision and power. "Your turn," she said, laughing. It was then that Instructor Phillip Blackrest finally paid attention to us. Or at least, he paid attention to Kate. As Esmerelda was not in attendance, he spent little attention upon me, which I was thankful for. He was scowling as he stormed over. "Oi!¡± he shouted, thrusting a gauntleted finger towards Kate. ¡°Yer supposed ta be running the gauntlet!" He reprimanded her. ¡°Not¨C¡± he waved his hands futility between Kate and I ¡°-whatever this is!¡± Spittle flew from his mouth. "Whaa?" Kate said, mouth hanging open, before shaking and correcting herself. "I mean, I already did! Run it, that is. And this is me just brushing up on some--" "Save it!" Phillip cut her off. "If yer gonna get distracted playin'' with yer little girlfriend, then both of ya get yer asses in the gauntlet!" "But¨C" Kate started to protest. "Now!" Phillip shouted, listening to none of her excuses. Until finally, Kate could do naught but hang her head and groan, "...fine.¡± Though as soon as Phillip turned back to his other trainees, Kate grabbed my elbow and dragged me towards the gauntlet. ¡°I¡­¡± I trailed off, unsure of how I wanted to play this. I had seen the gauntlet before. It looked painful, and rather dangerous. While running it might improve my abilities, I thought there might be safer ways to grow, and ways that I could grow without being seen by everyone else in the very open and exposed training yard. ¡°I¡¯m not sure this is a good idea,¡± I finally settled on. "It''ll be fine," Kate said, brushing off my very valid concerns. "I''ll show you the ropes. It¡¯ll be good for you. Trust me¡­" I wiped the grimace off my face before she saw it. Instead, I stammered, "I''d really rather not." Kate scrunched her nose and almost pouted, in an aggressive sort of way. "You''d leave me by myself?" Kate asked. I glanced towards the gauntlet she was dragging me towards: the blunted spike trap, the rolling greased balance beams, and the rotating gears that swung blunted instruments into the path. "Yes¡­¡± I said, nodding once firmly. ¡°Yes I would." Kate groaned, perhaps realizing that I was serious. "But why... ?" She asked. I gave her a deadpan stare. I had declined, and Kate ought to respect me enough to leave it at that. But then again, I did want to improve relations with her to perhaps further my own agenda, and perhaps for other less rational reasons. "Look,¡± Kate said. ¡°It looks scary, yeah, but it''s not all bad. You ever wonder how I perform so much better than you? Why I¡¯m so much fitter? Better endurance?" She flexed her biceps and pushed it towards me, as though she wanted me to touch. I declined doing so. Instead, I answered the reason I thought she was so much further along when it came to our spars. "Your Marks?" I said. "Well, yeah¡­¡± Kate said, frowning. ¡°But I meant something else¡­" "You meant your years of practice?" I asked, knowingly missing her intent now. She tilted her head, confusion writ across her face. "Uh, hey yeah,¡± she said, stumbling over her words. ¡°But what I really meant was something else." "How about your¨C" I started again with another wrong guess, but Kate must have seen something in my face as she cut me off in good humor. "Gods take your tongue!" Kate laughed while swearing and exasperated, all the same time. "Endurance! Endurance and dexterity training. Which you sorely need. A few minutes into a spar and you¡¯re gasping and wheezing for breath." "That is true¡­¡± I trailed off, recognizing that she was accurate. Training on the gauntlet likely would do wonders for my own progress. Though its clunking gears and greased balance roll bars left me very ill at ease. "So, this will help!" she waved at the gauntlet, and gave me her rueful smile. "So c''mon!" ¡°It will help,¡± I finally conceded, before muttering, ¡°If it doesn¡¯t kill me.¡± She ignored my quip and continued dragging me to the start of the gauntlet. She gave me no opportunity to really resist, though I was sure I could have escaped, had I truly wished to. And she did have a point, I justified to myself. The starting point of the gauntlet was a sandbox littered with irregular boulders and cabling stretching above at a mismatched agglomeration of angles. Beyond that, was a thirteen foot wooden wall, with the added challenge of a rotating arm that swept down the wall over and over again. Beyond that was a rotating balance bar, which was below mechanized things that went in and out, creating a dynamic hazard over the bar. And beyond that, was a pit with vertical wooden poles, which were meant to be run across. Then, after that, the gauntlet started once more, allowing practitioners to run lap after lap without resting. As I took the torture machine in, feeling my ears ache to quiver from the noise, and the vibrations running up my feet, Kate turned her brightest smile my way. "So, ready?" Kate asked. I gulped and shook my head, though Kate must not have seen that. Because, then with great exuberance and excitement, she declared loudly: "Go!" She took off like a shot, hopping from stone to stone, diving below the cabling, or twisting above it as she went. In seconds, she had arrived at the wall, where she bounced against the wood and began to scale, using the mechanized obstacle to further boost herself up. Once she got to the top, she stood atop the thin wall and turned to look back down at me, where I had yet to start. All of that had taken Kate less than ten seconds. "You haven¡¯t started?¡¯ she called back, staring me down. ¡°What¡¯s the matter, scared?" she said, smirking, teasingly. "It''s not that bad, you know¡­¡± she added. ¡°Just take it slow at first. I won''t judge if you take forever... at least, I won¡¯t judge that much." She grinned broadly. I scoffed in irritation. I would show her, I decided. I launched myself forward, left foot landing on a stone, propelling me forward. I stepped over the first cable, touched down with my right foot on the next stone, before letting the momentum carry me forward. The boulder slid with me though, killing my launch. I was unable to clear the next set of cabling. I twisted as much as I could, and I narrowly missed the cable, but my legs were out of position and I touched down in the sand, hitting my side against another stone. I groaned in pain. That was going to leave a bruise. "Jackie?" Kate asked, somewhat concerned, though she had yet to leave her perch atop the wall. All on my own, to maintain my own dignity, I propped myself up and spat out the few grains of sand that had invaded my mouth. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I grunted. Once she saw I was not bleeding from my eyes, she laughed. "Nice first try,¡± she said, chortling. ¡°Really." I made a disgusted sound, and finished stomping over to the wall. "You better keep moving," I said, scowling. ¡°I¡¯ll be catching up in no time.¡± Then, without thinking better of it, without considering the fact that I really should probably not show off my most useful ability to the city¡¯s equivalent of a police-force, without any of that, I began to scurry up the wall. I might have been showboating a bit to sooth my pride, because climbing, at least, was one area I could beat Kate. As I flew up the wall, her eyes widened. She must have realized my claims of catching up were not idle boasting, as she leapt off the otherside out of sight. A painful ten minutes later, I had finished my first lap. I was bruised, out of breath, and everything ached. But when I found Kate grinning at me, taunting me, I found a well of previously untapped determination. And I had to admit¡­ I could feel the progress. "Another lap?" I asked. She rolled her eyes and grinned, "If you think you''re up for it." The next lap took closer to fifteen minutes. When I cleared it, my legs and arms were trembling. Despite hurrying the best I could, I could not keep up with Kate. She was already waiting for me at the finish, grinning, hardly looking the worse for wear. I tried consoling myself, that she had been running this course for years, and that I was just now starting... but when I saw her all but laughing at my lackluster performance, something inside me burned. "Again," I hissed, almost too weary to articulate. "Uh, you sure?" Kate said, her grin slipping momentarily in concern. That time, I started my lap ahead of her, leaving her behind, but she quickly overtook me. I finished the next lap in less time than before, closer to eight minutes, but still not faster than Kate. I thought she might have been humoring me, and it was quite frustrating, though I was starting to get the hang of the course. I was still wheezing as I finished, but I felt elation that I had only fallen a single time. If I continued improving, I would soon be able to catch up with Kate. Then overtake her. Then grind her smug face into the ground. Or perhaps, grind her smug face into something else. "I... I think we might be done?" Kate asked as I jogged past her, starting the course once again. "Or not..." she added to my back. I would not wait for her. I needed every advantage. Despite that, she caught up to me at the top of the wall. "I think you might be overdoing it," Kate cautioned. Of course she would say that! But I was on the cusp of something, I could feel it! In my shaking and weakening limbs, I felt it! It was so close, I just had to push through. When Kate attempted to grab my shoulder to halt my progress, I snarled and fell forward, landing on all fours on the balance beam, already prowling forward like a beast. "Jackie!" Kate called, dropping down and landing behind me. "You''re acting feral! Just... we can take a break, yeah? You''re doing great! You really really are. Most recruits can''t even finish on their first attempt..." Words. Just words. And ones I cared not for. I ignored her and kept moving. My vision began to shimmer, the edges of reality blurring like a painting left in the rain. "Stubborn," Kate muttered under her breath. Of course, she failed to understand. She did not feel the tingling in my limbs. She could not feel it! I pushed on, ignoring the leaden weight of my limbs. My false arm¡¯s tendrils scratched at my guts, and I felt a moment¡¯s distraction. Why was my false-arm acting out? "Watch your left!" Kate shouted a warning. I pivoted just in time to avoid a mechanized sand filled bag that came barreling from the side. I dodged it, or thought I did. But the world around me twisted, and I found myself looking upwards, confused. I was... on the ground? Athleticism (9/9) (+1) -> Athleticism I (1/9) Unlocked: Gymnastics (1/9) It took a few seconds of everything spinning for me to decide that I was certainly on the ground. I heard a few barks of laughter from nearby, sounding like the trainees. I would have blushed was I not so exhausted. Overhead, above me, Kate''s face gazed down. She crouched, concern dominating her face. "Kate...?" I said, almost moaned up towards her. "I''m here," she said quietly, helping to drag me off the course to the softer sand. She held my head on her lap. A few more barks of laughter came from nearby, until Kate scowled off to the side and shouted, "Damn you all! Cut that racket out!" she roared, not realizing she had shouted almost directly into my ear. I winced, but she failed to notice. A few other calls went out from the trainees, laughing at the waif of a girl that though she was tough. They seemed immune to Kate¡¯s glare and her boisterous warning. However, a moment later, their laughter ended as Phillip shouted at them to cease their slacking. Meanwhile, Kate began rubbing her calloused fingers through my hair, lifting it off my sweaty face. "You pushed too hard," she said, helping me to sit up further. I leaned back against her stomach now. "Just relax a bit, then you''ll be as good as new. Had me scared there for a second." My right arm itched from where the Mark had expanded. Without looking, I knew it had been a big one. I was tempted to look right then and there, but with people still watching me, I refused the temptation. A few moments into my recovery, Phillip Blackrest finally arrived. He loomed over both of us, his brows furrowed deeply. I could only imagine that he worried Esmerelda would cut him off if I had been seriously wounded, at least, that was what I thought he might have been worrying about. That, or he was wondering how best to chew out Kate for relaxing as I recovered. Instead, he surprised me. He crouched down, looking me over and grabbing my wrist, feeling my pulse. He watched me breathe, his face uncomfortably close, and his breath stinking of onions. Finally, he pulled away and made his verdict. ¡°Girl¡¯s fine. Just low Blood Sugar." As he said that, he began rummaging through his pockets until he retrieved a few suspicious small and colorful objects. Belatedly, I realized it to be a handful of some sort of candy, though sticky and coated with lint and pocket trimmings. He rolled my wrist around until my palm faced upwards, then he carefully dropped them into my hand, closing it around the candy. "Here," he grumbled, "eat these." I struggled to sit up, leaning heavily on Kate''s shoulder, my body a foreign entity rebelling against my commands. My hand trembled as I examined the pathetic offering, dirty sweets that mock my plight. I popped one into my mouth out of sheer desperation, the sugary taste an affront to my palate. It dissolved quickly, leaving nothing but a ghost of sweetness and an echo of hunger. It tasted foul. It left me gagging. I rolled off of Kate¡¯s lap and onto my arms, dry-heaving. Kate sat there in surprise, watching me confused, before her eyes snapped back to Phillip who was watching me in confusion. "What''d you give her?!" Kate demanded. "Uhh, just some hard candies..." Phillip said defensively. "Maybe mint flavored? I think?" "Then why¡¯s she practically vomiting?¡± Kate asked accusingly, though she had come down beside me, behind me, and pulled my hair behind my neck while rubbing my back. In my peripheral awareness, I knew I was making a scene, and I knew it was counterproductive to do so. But the candy tasted worse than fecal matter. ¡°Are¡­ are you alright?¡± Kate asked me, murmuring quietly and in a way I was sure was supposed to be supportive. Phillip looked on in concern and confusion both. ¡°It was just candy, I swear,¡± Phillip muttered more to himself than to us. He scratched his scruff as though deep in thought. Finally, I was able to get out a word. ¡°Tasted¡­ awful¡­¡± I groaned. ¡°Well, that might not be yer favorite, princess¡­¡± Phillip scoffed. ¡°But you needed somethin¡¯ in yer belly. You skipped breakfast, I take it? Foolish, that.¡± I groaned, ¡°Don¡¯t you have meat?¡± I added. ¡°Or something else¡­ that tastes less like¡­ that?¡± Kate barked a laugh, remembering our shared carnivorous diets. "Is that all?" Kate asked. "Of course, she needs more than a child''s treat to recover. Why do you even keep those in your pocket?¡± Kate said, needling Phillip in what was likely a poorly thought out attempt at humor. Kate continued, "Does it look like she''s enjoying your pocket lint delicacies?" Phillip scowled, before shaking his head and stomping off. ¡°Don¡¯t think I¡¯ll forget this, Guardson,¡± he threatened, but then he started shouting at the other trainees, likely taking out his aggression there. Kate and I watched him stomp off, before Kate found a satchel tied to the inside of her tunic. She pulled it out and opened it, before shifting through it. A waft of exotic spices tickled my nose, reminding me of Cook¡¯s private selection. ¡°Here,¡± Kate said, handing me what might have been a thick strip of jerky. ¡°Imported from down south. I thought you might have liked it so I picked it up. Give it a try, yeah?¡± She added, handing it to me. The jerky, tough and demanding, yet imbued with a flavor that spoke of untamed wilds and freedom, ignited something within me. As I chewed, the rich infusion of protein began its work, knitting the frayed edges of my vitality back together. I thanked her profusely. Or I thought I did. I was a bit lost in the meal. "Can''t have you collapsing on me," Kate teased, though the undercurrent of sincerity could not be hidden. She said something else, though I failed to listen. It was just words, after all. Kate pulled something else from her pouch, and my eyes snapped to her, hoping for more jerky. Instead, I found her unscrewing a flask. She took a swig, before handing it to me. ¡°Try it,¡± she said, nudging me, and absolutely indifferent to the fact that we were off to the side in the very open training yard, where we should have still been practicing. ¡°Go on¡­.¡± she said, holding it closer to my face. ¡°Is good¡­¡± It smelled strong, but sweet and tangy, but not like citrus at all. It did smell appetizing. Against my better judgment, I took the flask and tossed it back. Just a swig, no more than an ounce. The spirits burned as they went down. But in a good way. The aftertaste mellowed and left my mouth feeling clean and bubbly. ¡°Woah¡­¡± I said. ¡°That is good.¡± ¡°Yep! Got it from the same place as the jerky. You like?¡± I nodded, ¡°Yes. Yes I do. You¡¯ll have to show me where you got it.¡± ¡°Ehhh¡­¡± Kate trailed off, seeming uncertain. ¡°What? Not going to weasel it into a date?¡± I asked, smirking. Normally she would be jumping all over any opportunity to spend time with me. ¡°Of course I want to! But¡­ it¡¯s just¡­¡± she trailed off, glancing away, grimacing. ¡°Well, I picked it up a few days ago. Remember that emergency down in the Merchant Quarter?¡± I recalled everyone running off when an alarm was called, and Kate trying to drag me along with her to check it out. I also remembered Esmerelda stopping me from going off with her. I never really had figured out what that was all about. ¡°I remember. Why bring that up?¡± ¡°It¡¯s when I picked it up. Same place. There was a southern merchant tried to pass unregistered stock through the city. They had a whole bunch of goods like the jerky and brandy, but that wasn¡¯t what caused the issue." "Unregistered stock," I echoed darkly, feeling the bite of old chains. "Exactly. They weren¡¯t secured properly, had no paperwork¡­ so when the inspector came around to enforce city laws, the ill-trained beasts revolted. It was quite messy. Lots of people got caught up in it, and a lot of the merchant¡¯s goods were confiscated. Not that they¡¯ll be needing it any more¡­¡± she added darkly. I shivered at the callous words. Unregistered stock. Stock. Slaves. My neck itched, and I swore I could feel the chill of metal sapping away my heat while I tried to rest. Kate must have seen my discomfort, because she nudged my side. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. We caught all them and took care of it. It¡¯s safe down there now, if you wanted me to show you where it happened?¡± I grimaced and declined weakly. ¡°Maybe¡­ maybe some other time.¡± Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism I (1/9) (+1):
    • Climbing I (4/9)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
    • Gymnastics (1/9)
  • Stealth I (7/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (5/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver I (1/9)
    • Evasion I (1/9)
      • Impending Sense (2/9)
    • Lucky Break (3/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (5/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.3.7 The clink of cutlery was a soft chime against the backdrop of simmering pots as I entered the dimly lit, humid kitchen of Ma''Ritz. Cook loomed over a cauldron similar to an imagined feline deity from her southern jungles, her whiskers twitching in the heat. Her apron was splattered with today''s menu, a macabre palette of grays and browns. "Kitten," Cook growled, her voice a guttural purr that always sent a shiver down my spine, "the pantry grows meager, my stock is insufficient to feed your belly." I leaned against the stainless steel counter, my fingers tracing the cool metal. I had been having a feeling for a while now that this was coming. For weeks, my breakfast had consisted of Cook''s personal stock of meat, the opposite of the dietary norm within the Middens Empire. And since Cook had been having difficulty restocking, I knew that eventually she could run out. But even though I had suspected this of happening for a while, I had to verify that it had actually happened. Not that I doubted the veracity of Cook¡¯s statement, but that I hoped I had either misinterpreted or misheard her. Because I needed to consume flesh. Despite my Guise, I was not human, not truly, not anymore, and my body craved deeper nourishment than paltry vegetables and grains. "What do you mean?" I asked. Her yellow eyes narrowed. "This one is out. No more meat remains within my kitchen. This is worse than a sore tooth for these ones," she finished, alluding to both herself and me. "Surely we can simply resupply? I could even run to the store if you needed... assuming I could find the market you normally shop from?" I was uncertain why she was having such difficulties keeping up her inventory of meat in the first place. If street vendors could sell meat, even if consuming meat was taboo, then certainly Cook could purchase meat as well. Unless, I considered, unless she had trouble conducting business as a Kaiva. As I thought about it, I realized that I had never actually seen Cook leave the building. She made a sound in the back of her throat that almost sounded like a yowl, but not quite. "Troublesome, this one knows. But, at least your belly might be filled with gruel? This one knows the meal is lacking, but the kit is human..." Cook finished, raising one eyebrow with her ears flicking back, as though in challenge. "I don''t understand," I said, evading her challenge. Instead, I chose to focus on the true issue. "Why can you or, even I, run a simple errand? Simply run to the store, spend some Chargers, and return with the meat? It would fall cleanly in the line of favors that I owe you, if that''s what you''re¨C" "This one stops the conversation here. Nothing in my pantry is simple. Nothing." It seemed an odd hill to die on, thus I quickly conceded that her pantry was in fact magnificent before hurrying on with my question. "Surely, a vendor or butcher exists that I could visit on your behalf?" I asked, remembering that Kate had recently purchased some jerky from the Merchant Square, though there had been some extenuating circumstances for that transaction to occur. "This one laughs,¡± Cook said, notably without humor. ¡°But perhaps there is a market... Is the kit willing to travel there?" Given her tone, I worried that there might be more to this simple favor, as she made the grocery trip sound quite arduous. "Is the location within Southbridge?" I asked for verification. "Yes, yes... though this marketplace is across the highway, surrounded by foolish and greedy thugs." That might explain it. The other side of the highway was the slums and industrial area, also where the Pit Crews largely were based out of. That might prove challenging, least of all due to the distance to commute. "If this one provides the address,¡± Cook continued after a pause, with trepidation in her voice. ¡°Then will the kitten do as claimed and run this errand?" A favor was owed. Furthermore, and most importantly, whatever meat she usually served was leagues better than what I could get from street vendors. Learning the location of her supply would be an additional benefit. And despite the difficulty of the location, with my abilities, I remained confident in both my own survival and success in retrieving my future sustenance. Thus, I agreed. "Good!" Cook said, sounding relieved. At least until I asked for breakfast. At which point, she snarled and hissed in sympathy. "Gruel, no meat." That day I did not get an opportunity to run that errand for Cook. To meet my needs, I was forced to subsist off of subpar vender skewers. Gymnastics: 2/9 (+1) After another morning of training and running the gauntlet I returned to find Ma''Ritz in an early lunch rush, with the cacophony of Ma''Ritz in full swing. When I stepped through the door, at first I worried that I had come back late. Marianne caught my eye as she dropped off a platter of fried sprouts and sauce, along with a pitcher of ale. I could never understand how people enjoyed eating the stuff. "Glad you''re back," Marianne said, nodding back towards the server station. "Grab an apron and take the back tables. They still need to order." I nodded and complied. Stepping into a busy shift was always troublesome. The feeling of it, the chaos, it left my skin feeling greasy. Several patrons eyed me as I walked by, and I had to dodge several grabbing hands. But soon, my apron was tied, and I was off to the tables. One thing I noticed as I took orders was the demographic of our customers. It was different than normal. Typically, we would serve largely well compensated professionals, the upper middle class, their lunch. These would be older men and women, wearing whatever garments represented their business, assuming they operated a clean business, that is. However, that was not the case. Most of the tables contained at least one teenager, sometimes more, along with one or two adults. The adults were clearly caretakers, or chaperones, or possibly even parents. The ones with the weariest expressions I assumed were the latter. The deviation from norm caught my attention. When Marianne and I had a few seconds at the bar, I brought it up. "What''s with the kids?" I asked Marianne. "Registration and Class Selection," Marianne answered. "Along with an open house? I''m not too sure about the last one." "For...?" A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. "The Academy," Marianne said. I watched her face carefully for context clues. Knowing her plans, I would have thought she would also have been involved. I also felt concern for myself, at least if I were to attend the Academy as well. Registration sounded like something I should be in on. "Was it not mandatory then?" I asked. "Hm?" she said, already distracted by one of her tables waving her down. "When do you register?" I asked more bluntly before she ran off. She grimaced so briefly I almost missed it, before covering her face with a smile. "Whatever classes are still open by the time we attend of course! We can chat more about it tonight, alright Jackie? For now though, I need to focus." She rushed off to take yet another order. From what I learned during the scant moments of conversation I had, the Academy registration, class and path selection were opened today, but only for those who paid for the privilege. I made a note to ask Esmerelda for more of my own details--she and I still had yet to formalize any contractual language for my employment, which caused a lack of details, which caused a foreboding sense of insecurity whenever the subject came up. I wondered if Marianne was similar. That day, the wealthiest of the Academy took care of the finer details, reserving for themselves the best schedules, and that night many of these children and their caretakers dined at Ma''Ritz. The Middens lacked any sort of underage drinking laws. Towards that night, one of the wealthier groups arrived. One that Marianne noticed as they came in and as they sat themselves at the first open table they could find. I was sure that if I were to ask them, then the atmosphere at Ma''Ritz was a delightful excursion to rough it with the commoners. "You want them?" Marianne asked me, nodding towards the new table. There were several teens sitting there in their luxurious velvets and silks, with some jewelry draped upon them. They boisterously joked and laughed. Notably, they lacked a guardian with them. That could not bode well, but from Marianne''s cringe, I thought she wanted to serve them even less than I. "If you don''t want to?" I answered. She sighed in relief. "Then step lively, Jackie. These bluebloods won''t tolerate tardiness." I nodded, my gaze snagging on the silken fabrics and glinting jewels that draped the young aristocrats like second skins. They moved with an ease born of privilege, their smiles as practiced as their courtly manners. It wasn''t just their wealth that set them apart¡ªit was the assurance that they belonged to a world where everything and everyone was theirs for the taking. "Welcome to Ma''Ritz," I greeted, voice steady despite the bitterness welling up inside me. "Be a dear and fetch us the finest bottle of whisky," drawled a child, a boy, far too young and with a cracking voice. He complimented that tone with an imperious tilt of his chin. He was no older than me, in fact, I was certain he was younger. Far younger. Though I still deferred to him and his friends, with a forced smile and a bowing of the head. "Of course, sir." I went back to the bar, looking through the shelves. Marianne approached, "Everything go alright there?" she asked. I nodded towards the top shelves. "Which of these is the finest bottle... of whisky?" I added. "Ugh. Of course they did," Marianne commiserated with a roll of her eyes. She pointed out a bottle of clear spirits with ornamental ribbing along its sides. "That''s the one, I think." "Really?" I asked, pulling down the bottle. It had heft, and felt expensive, certainly. But it was clear. I had thought whisky and its derivatives were brown. But Marianne insisted. "And they might need help pouring. If you let them, they might spill... And of course it would be your fault if they did. So don''t let them." I winced and nodded. "Sounds insane." "Ha." Marianne laughed dryly before hurrying off to take care of her own tables. When I delivered their bottle, I took the initiative to pour for all of them, but this brought another challenge. "A little more!" a boy cheered. "George Thirdson!" One of the girls scolded. "Ought you?" "Ah, Elly," the boy, George, said in a smooth voice. "Why ever ought I not?" Elly, the girl with dyed hair and hazel eyes scoffed. "I suppose we are free tonight then?" "Eh? Elly?" "I suppose we lack any other certain engagements to attend?" "A single drink surely will be fine," he said confidently. All the while, I was in an awkward position leaning over him to pour, though I had paused during their conversation, otherwise it would have been overfilled. "The way you were going, it would not have been a single drink," Elly said. This put me into an awkward position. Several of their friends were watching with smiles and laughs as they wondered who would win this possible spat between lovers, if they were indeed lovers. They certainly seemed close. I decided to pull back, erring on the side of caution. "Did I not say to continue pouring?" George asked, looking back over his shoulder and flashing what he must have thought was a charming smile, if a little forceful. It left my stomach somewhat queasy. Luck Break: 4/9 (+1) "You did," I said softly. "You''re scaring the poor girl," Elly teased George, putting a dainty hand upon his shoulder. He shrugged, "I do not think that I am, Elly. Not at all." George turned his pompous smile back on me. "I''m not scaring you, am I?" Perhaps leaving me wishing to vomit, I thought privately. Elly frowned before smoothing her face. "No, Sir, I am not scared." "Then why not continue pouring?" George asked, even though he had at least two ounces of strong spirits in his glass. Thinking fast, I came up with what I thought might have been a plausible excuse. "The bottle will still remain when you finish the glass, and the spirits'' flavor improves in lesser doses." "Really?" George asked, turning back towards his table. One of the other boys shrugged, "Sounds familiar," one of them said. "Huh. Well, I suppose if you leave the bottle, then all is well." I acquiesced, privately planning to place it on the far side of the table. "Now, might I bring you anything else?" I asked. "A little bit of everything, I should think," Elly said, smirking. "And a pitcher of the commoners drink!" one of the boys shouted. "Ale!" Several of them cheered, although I was unsure of why. "Excellent, right away..." I said as I retreated. It would shape out to be a tedious night. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism I (1/9):
    • Climbing I (4/9)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
    • Gymnastics (2/9) (+1)
  • Stealth I (7/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (5/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver I (1/9)
    • Evasion I (1/9)
      • Impending Sense (2/9)
    • Lucky Break (4/9) (+1)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (5/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.3.8 The clamor and din of the tavern overwhelmed the senses as I weaved between the tables bearing a family sized bowl of a fruit-curry with gourmet crackers. It was a messy dish, and the fruit left a distasteful scent that reminded me slightly of durian. Personally, the dish left me wanting to gag. It was the third such questionable dish the table of well-to-do children had ordered. I thought it was a mistake on their part, but they had explicitly ordered it. Mothersworn idiots, I thought. With a flourish and something close to a bow, I delivered the platter between George and Elly. I still was uncertain if they were romantically involved or not, but given the way George¡¯s eyes wandered, I thought not. There were five of these overgrown and spoiled children at the table. Two girls, and three boys. They all had the normal dark tan skin that was common in Southbridge, along with the brown eyes and dark hair. Utterly unremarkable, if not for the wealth on display and their smooth complexions. Not a blemish on their cheeks or foreheads, and their noses lacked any of the blackheads someone their age ought to have had. Utterly unfair, at least from what I could remember of my own youth. At least their teeth were imperfect and slightly yellowed, though even then, they were leagues above the common riff-raff. The boy, George, seemed to be their leader, at least judging by the deferral the others granted him. Even Elly, who harped on his choice of over-indulging, failed to truly criticize the boy. Thus, he was the one I focused my attention on when delivering the platter. As I set down the plate, Elly¡¯s nose wrinkled, and she glanced cautiously towards George, as though awaiting his reaction. George seemed somewhat cautious of the dish. ¡°This is it?¡± he asked, prodding one of the crackers cautiously. ¡°I thought it would be¡­ different.¡± ¡°I could return it for another dish, should it be desired?¡± I offered. The second girl, a handsome one, smirked and teased, ¡°Is the flavor strong for you, George?¡± George scoffed and said, ¡°As if. I merely thought it would appear more presentable. How should one eat this?¡± he asked me. ¡°Allow me,¡± I offered once again, using a serving spoon to cautiously ladle the curry onto a porcelain bowl, and then using a linen to deposit several of the crackers to the side. ¡°I just¡­ dip them?¡± he asked. Truly, I wished I could have afforded to roll my eyes. It was obvious enough that I suspected he already knew that. ¡°Just so,¡± I answered instead. He acted as though the crackers would bite him. As though the crisped and thinly sliced bread was a threat. Disgusting. Elly snorted, almost too softly to hear. George gingerly selected a cracker between two fingers, as daintily as possible, and dipped the end into the yellow sauce. ¡°Come on, George!¡± the boyish girl encouraged. ¡°The rest of us want to try some as well!¡± George almost winced as the foul concoction came under his nose. All the table was watching in anticipation, and I realized belatedly that I was as well. He opened his mouth. The cracker went in. ¡°Gah!¡± he said, spitting it out the moment it touched his tongue. A dollop of curry fell from the cracker and onto his velvet doublet. ¡°What garbage is this!¡± he nearly shouted, his face reddening. The tomboy cackled and slapped another boy on the back. ¡°His face!¡± she cried, giggling. ¡°Stop,¡± Elly warned. George stood abruptly, sending his chair clattering backwards and making something of a scene. ¡°What foolishness was this?¡± he asked crossly. ¡°Was this a prank? Or do you normally serve manure.¡± He glanced down at the plate, and saw the stain on his clothes. He scowled. ¡°I demand recompense at once!¡± I stood befuddled by his antics, utterly stunned. What did he mean, recompense, when he was the one that both ordered and spat the food? Was I to take it that the dish was not to his liking? Because that much was obvious. When I took just a second too long to respond, George snapped, ¡°At once! And take this filth away. The very sight nauseates me.¡± That much, I could do. I nodded, bowing forward and collecting the platter and the porcelain bowl. ¡°At once,¡± I said with as much respect as I could fake while still sounding believable. I hastened back to the entrance to the kitchen, where Marianne awaited with concern writ across her face. ¡°Jackie!¡± Marianne hissed when I neared. ¡°What¨Cwhat happened?!¡± I rolled my eyes, releasing some of the pent up emotion, finally. ¡°The rich brat spilled¨C¡± ¡°Shh!¡± Marianne hushed me in a low voice. ¡°Their hearing might pick that up.¡± I raised an eyebrow and glanced around at the incredibly noisy tavern. Marianne scowled and crossed her arms. ¡°Wealthy people can afford incredible Marks,¡± she explained. ¡°Who knows what they can or can¡¯t do.¡± She had a point. ¡°Fair,¡± I said. ¡°But he disliked the dish, spat it out, and stained his clothes. What do I even do in this situation? He¡¯s demanding recompense.¡± She winced, glanced between me and the table of pampered children, her wince growing even further. ¡°Right, that¡¯s a tricky one¡­¡± she said. ¡°Want me to¡­ step in?¡± she asked, grimacing. Sensing salvation, even if it was at Marianne¡¯s expense, I took it. ¡°If you wouldn¡¯t mind? Of course, you can keep the tip.¡± ¡°If they tip,¡± Marianne grumbled, before shaking herself. ¡°But if I do that, then I need you to do something for me. ¡°Yeah, of course¡­¡± I trailed off, wondering briefly if I had been played, before deciding against it. ¡°What do you need?¡± ¡°A woman at the corner table was asking about you. I¡¯m not sure who she is, but she¡¯s important, I¡¯m sure. She wanted to talk to you, if you got the chance.¡± I glanced towards the table in question. The lamp had been turned low, plunging that table into shadows, and two women sat there, both with finely woven hoods drawn, one purple, the other gray. I licked my lips and thought of reneging. ¡°They seem¡­ sketchy,¡± I said. Marianne huffed, ¡°you already agreed. Besides, I¡¯m taking that table for you. Least you can do is head over and chat with them. They probably just like your hair.¡± I narrowed my eyes and nodded slowly. Marianne was already off with a smile plastered on her face and a silk napkin in hand, heading towards the rich brats. While Marianne salvaged that table, I headed over to the table with the two mysterious women, much trepidation in my stride. The one wearing gray saw me approach, and nodded slightly with her head. The purple hooded woman glanced towards me, though all I could see was a shadow and two nearly flaming lilac eyes. I faltered in my step, but I was too near to abort my plans now, no matter how much I wished to beneath the woman¡¯s hungry gaze. I felt a sense of deja vu. ¡°Why act coy and afraid?¡± the woman in purple, one who could not possibly be who I thought it was, smirked. ¡°It is not as though I bite¡­ Not unless you¡¯re a little morsel?¡± she asked. Now that I was closer, standing before their corner table, I could better see their faces. WIth her pale skin, purple eyes, black hair, and that possessive tone, I could not help but recognize her. But why was she here of all places? I almost said her name, but I caught myself in time. In my Guise, I should have never met her. It would be best if I had failed to recognize her altogether. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°I¨CI¡¯m sorry,¡± I said, bowing my head. ¡°T-the other girl directed me here?¡± I feigned some weakness, enough to keep from being memorable, if that was possible at all. I also refrained from mentioning Marianne¡¯s name, in case these women lacked that knowledge. The less attention from them, the better. ¡°I confess I am uncertain as to what I can do for you¡­ perhaps, should I bring you drinks? Food?¡± ¡°Another time, the other girl might have captivated my interest. But not with such an interesting¡­ specimen here. Now, girl, tell me your name. And avoid fainting from fear. Doing so would be bothersome.¡± I resisted the temptation to work my jaw. Holding a placid reaction was difficult, especially when the woman said such ridiculous statements. Did her conversational partners often faint? I hoped to avoid learning the answer to that. ¡°Your name,¡± the gray clad woman said, snapping her fingers at me. I figured I might as well answer. I doubted either of these women had ever bothered learning my name prior to my Guise. I hoped so, at least. It was too late to change my name now. Though I could still flee. Or I could hope to deceive them, except many Marks offered some version of truth-detection, especially among the nobility. Without being allowed more time to plan my way out from this confrontation, I had no choice but to answer, ¡°Jackie,¡± with my head still bowed. ¡°Indeed?¡± the lilac eyed woman asked in her sultry voice. ¡°Then tell me, Jackie, how long have you worked here?¡± ¡°Not too long,¡± I answered vaguely. ¡°Less than a season?¡± I nodded, cringing only slightly. Did she recognize me? I wondered in panic. ¡°What brings such a delightful waif to Southbridge?¡± She assumed I was fresh to Southbridge. That implied unfortunate things, and I was unsure if I could use that to my advantage. ¡°M-my m-my¡­¡± I trailed off, realizing I was doomed to lie, which would undoubtedly be detected. Perhaps it would not be so terrible, to flee now rather than later? ¡°Mmm yes? Go on¡­¡± I needed to see if I could stretch the truth to fit first. I could say I was passing through, except there was too little mobility among young women in this realm for that excuse to be readily plausible. I was also in Southbridge on Emboru¡¯s behalf. I could not say I was here for the wyrkwik or mucary, depending on which term one used. But my false-arm was in a way related to Emboru, and the false-arm was very much a part of me, which could almost make Emboru related? It would have to do on such short notice. Self justifications in place, I managed to answer, ¡°f-for my folks.¡± ¡°Ah,¡± the lilac eyed woman responded, as though she was reading more into my answer than I would have liked. ¡°And are your folks in the area?¡± I shook my head. ¡°N-no, not yet.¡± ¡°Do they plan on it?¡± I grimaced, ¡°M-maybe?¡± ¡°Hm.¡± she tapped her chin. ¡°Assuming that your folks never arrive, what are your plans?¡± I shrugged uncomfortably. ¡°No answer?¡± she asked. ¡°Uncertain? Or you plan on working the rest of your days in a brothel¡­¡± I winced. At that point, I heard Marianne yelp from behind me. Distracted, I glanced towards her, where I saw her squirming to get off of the handsome girl¡¯s lap, though she was being held down while several of the rich children laughed. I was unable to catch much of what was being said there from where I was, but I heard someone call Marianne a ¡®rowdy one.¡¯ My blood started to boil and I turned with the attention to stomp towards them, but before I departed, the lilac eyed woman snapped her fingers imperiously. Lucky Break: 5/9 (+1) ¡°Trigg. Contain the students. I have not yet finished my conversation and I will tolerate no obstruction.¡± Trigg. Lady Trigg. If I needed confirmation, then this was it. I froze where I was and swallowed. Hard. ¡°Jackie, turn back around. Our discussion is not over.¡± Without much of a choice, except a perilous retreat, I once more faced the lilac eyed woman. I still dared not to use her name. It was clear she was operating incognito. ¡°I should really go and help with the other tables¨C¡± I started to make an excuse to leave, but the woman would have none of it. ¡°Enough,¡± she said firmly, silencing me at once. ¡°If you are set to work in a tavern and brothel, then I would save you the time and take you for my own stables.¡± From what little I knew of her, consent would not be required. Fortunately, I had a ready reason to avoid joining her harem of concubines. Though I could barely speak it through my dry throat and tongue. ¡°A-academy,¡± I managed to say. ¡°I will be attending the Academy.¡± ¡°Ah,¡± she said, leaning back and smirking, as though she had caught me. ¡°But who is your sponsor?¡± ¡°Ma¡¯Ritz,¡± I was able to speak more confidently now, though I still cringed whenever her eyes rested upon me. ¡°And they cover your tuition with such meager wages?¡± I winced. ¡°M-maybe?¡± I said. That part I was still unsure of myself. ¡°Likely at a price, and one which will debase you before the eyes of lessers¡­¡± she seemed to be pondering. In the background, I could hear Lady Trigg scolding the students. From the corner of my eye, I saw Marianne busying herself about the other tables. ¡°A proposal then. I will sponsor and pay for your tuition¡­¡± she licked her upper lip slowly, sensuously. From how she spoke, and from what little I knew of her, I doubted there would be no cost. So I asked, ¡°the price?¡± She smiled, her lips far redder than they ought to be, glossy in the dim tavern light. ¡°I think you know already¡­¡± I winced and shook my head. ¡°I¡¯d prefer not to.¡± ¡°Would you decline my generous offer?¡± she asked, as though amused with her prey¡¯s frollicking. ¡°If I am allowed to,¡± I said. She smirked. ¡°Perhaps you are, Jackie.¡± Lady Trigg slid back into the booth, opposite Princess Marissa. ¡°Think on it, Jackie. Sleep on it, even. Know this, that I am not oft denied. Would you not rather gain some benefit prior to paying the price, regardless?¡± I bowed and stumbled away, while the princess laughed. Unfortunately, that was not the end of the night, and I was forced to remain working in the tavern until the rush ended. Marianne asked me what was wrong, and why I looked like I had seen a ghost, but I chose not to reply. I wanted nothing better than to curl up in bed and hide under the covers, but of course I was unable to. The hours dragged on. Eventually, the princess and Lady Trigg departed, along with the bulk of the students. The tavern wound down, and I was able to attend my night duty. No matter what I did, though, I could not shake the way the princess had watched me. The way she questioned me. The way she assumed she could own me, even though I had my Guise active and should have appeared a human. Did the princess know who I was? I suspected she did. But why had she refrained from acting on that knowledge tonight, instead of leaving vague warnings and threats? Was this simply how she flirted? Or was this a power trip? I could not fail but see similarities between Princess Marissa and Mother, and that comparison was in no way complimentary. In fact, it was horrifying. Which was why, when Marianne poked her head out from our shared window later that night, I welcomed the distraction. I hung from the wall, keeping watch while brooding, though it was difficult to brood with Marianne¡¯s cheerful demeanor. ¡°Quite a night,¡± Marianne said, leaning upon the sill with both arms. She gazed out on both the oil and the artifice-lit lanterns of the city. ¡°It has not been so crowded in a while.¡± ¡°Those are all Academy brats? Our to be peers?¡± Marianne¡¯s lips quirked up to the side. ¡°If all goes well, I would answer yes. But ¡®peer¡¯ is a strong term for them. They are miles above either of us, Jackie.¡± I scoffed. ¡°Perhaps. Assuming we can even pay tuition.¡± ¡°Esmerelda is working double the hours to help us with that,¡± Marianne said with only a hint of doubt. ¡°She is?¡± ¡°Yes! She¡¯s like the amazing big sister I never had!¡± ¡°But¡­ why would she go out of the way like that for us, or for me?¡± Marianne shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s just the way she is¡­ but she might not be able to earn enough. We have a backup plan though, if she¡¯s not able to.¡± ¡°And that backup plan is?¡± ¡°...not exactly legal, so let¡¯s not talk about it?¡± I sighed, ¡°Fair.¡± For a moment, I thought of mentioning the princess and her offer, but it would either worry Marianne or leave her jealous, and I was uncertain which. So I chose to enjoy the night, side by side Marianne, at least until she finally retired and went to bed. When I was finally on my lonesome, keeping watch, my thoughts kept coming back to the princess. Why was she such a possessive psychopath, and would I need to go to ground to avoid her? When my shift ended, I still was uncertain on what to do. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism I (1/9):
    • Climbing I (4/9)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
    • Gymnastics (2/9)
  • Stealth I (7/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (5/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver I (1/9)
    • Evasion I (1/9)
      • Impending Sense (2/9)
    • Lucky Break (5/9) (+1)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (5/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.3.X Absorption 2.3.X The woman stretched as she removed herself from the bed. Her motions were slow and luxurious, clearly well practiced. As she crawled to the mattress edge, she left her back arched and her rump raised, for just a teasing moment, before she finished her escape. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the patron weighing her appreciatively, his eyes locked on her thighs. She was sure to keep any unseemly fluids from leaking down her skin. The man, one of her regulars, nodded slowly. Perhaps, he would tip. Sometimes her patrons did so, to encourage a more engaging performance. This woman was named Tiffany Digger, though she avoided using her family name whenever possible. She worked for Madame Ritz as a courtesan, and she was somewhat proud of her position, as it was the highest that anyone in her circumstances could expect to climb. She wore her hair in a tight bun, kept her face masked with paralytics and cosmetic alchemics, and she had the fortune of inheriting the rare blonde hair and fair skin from her father, though that would have been the only blessing he gave. As she leaned down to grab her silk robe, which had fallen loose during the act, she felt a calloused palm slap her rear, sure to leave an imprint. If not for the facial paralytics, she surely would have grimaced. She loathed when patrons grew handsy after the act was done. Just because she had performed a service minutes ago did not mean she wished to keep performing after. And besides, bruised flesh was unsightly to many patrons. It meant a reduction in future earnings. Despite her feelings on the matter, she kept her silence and instead angeled further away from the man with a well practiced smile and giggle. If he persisted, regular or not, she would complain to Esmerelda and let the giant deal with the man. Though if Esmerelda became involved, then Tiffany might lose some of her earnings. She decided to tough it out for now. That was when the patron decided to open his mal-adjusted mouth. ¡°Lookin¡¯ a bit saggy there,¡± the man said jovially, with far too much disregard for the insulting words tumbling from his mouth revealing the slurried vomit that composed his mind. But still, he was a patron, and the Madame would grow furious with Tiffany if Tiffany provided the patron with a disservice. However, this still left Tiffany with many options, though they would be a far-cry from what a respectable courtesan would claim. So rather than stabbing him through the throat and feeding him to Cook¡¯s larder, she chose to verbally joust instead. ¡°Nonsense,¡± Tiffany said with a controlled voice, allowing humor and a light-hearted energy to lace her tone, even though this was quite distant from what she truly felt. ¡°You gaze upon an ideal specimen of female-kind, in the prime of her life.¡± ¡°Hmmm,¡± the man said, almost laughing as he hummed. ¡°Nah, don¡¯t think so. You¡¯re getting old, Digger.¡± Tiffany almost winced at the use of her last name. It was the lowest kind of commoner¡¯s name, born from the pits. If not for the alchemics, her face would have surely betrayed her displeasure. This man knew of her family name, of course, as he had also risen up from the slums. Not that she would remind him of this fact, as he would undoubtedly wish to ignore his inglorious past as well. Still, it was foolish for him to call her Digger. She and he had never even met previous to Ma¡¯Ritz. They shared no history, other than location of origin. And yet, he continued with his overly familiar and condescending words. ¡°Not so much the plump and smooth rump from a couple years ago,¡± he said, as if he had not just been enjoying the fruits of her flesh. ¡°But it¡¯s fine,¡± he continued. ¡°I just I expect a bit of a discount, since the goods are a little stale.¡± This bastard, Tiffany thought. She had now left the bed and had slipped into a silk nightgown, sitting at a cushioned stool as she brushed her hair, her back turned towards the man. She revisited her resolve to avoid murder. Even within their chambers, there were several levers to trigger alarms, and one hidden razor available for self defense. But no, she would then have to explain the loss, and spend the night scrubbing blood. It would be better to resolve this peacefully. Besides, he had yet to withhold payment, and other than his rudeness, he had done little to justify murder. ¡°Unfortunately,¡± she said, hoping that he would pursue the matter further thus to warrant action. ¡°I am unable to negotiate price, for they are set by the Madame. The man gave a sly glance about the room, eyes lingering on the golden candelabras and ornamental wood carvings. He was weighing the establishment¡¯s wealth. He might be foolish enough to protest the pricing further. Tiffany could not help the slight curling of her lips in predatory anticipation. ¡°If desired, we can call for the Madame?¡± Tiffany offered. The man must have felt the grave breathing down the back of his neck, as he shuddered and declined. ¡°Nah, that¡¯s alright,¡± he said, waving off the entirety of the conversation. ¡°It¡¯s not like there aren¡¯t other options out there though. The prices ought to be set more competitively.¡± ¡°Noted,¡± Tiffany said dryly, already angling towards the door¡¯s exit. Either he would pay, or he would not and violence would follow. Regardless, Tiffany desired for the conversation to end. However, the man failed to pick up on any of the hints. ¡°Then again,¡± he said, as though he was both considering and perhaps acting in a magnanimous fashion. The fool. ¡°The lower city¡¯s brothels come with a bit of risk,¡± he said. ¡°So maybe it works out that it¡¯s a bit more expensive here? Though, I still think you should lower your rate compared to the other girls.¡± Tiffany faltered in her step, coming to a stop and catching herself on the doorframe. She shut her eyes and focused on breathing. ¡°I told you already,¡± Tiffany bit out. ¡°The Madame sets the rates. If you desire negotiation, then speak with her. Not I.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure if you¨C¡± he started once more vomiting foolishness. Tiffany refused to allow this insolence to stand. It just would not, could not, stand. ¡°This is the finest establishment in Southbridge,¡± Tiffany hissed. ¡°Feel free to frequent the brothels and whores of the lower city, among the vermin and disease. If that is what you desire? It would be your choice. But if you continue along these lines, then you might find your access to Ma¡¯Ritz revoked!¡± At first, he grinned crudely. But as Tiffany¡¯s rant continued, a frown slipped onto his face. By the time Tiffany finished, he was grimacing. ¡°Well now, hol¡¯ on,¡± he hurried. ¡°Let us not be hasty, yea? It¡¯s just¨C¡± ¡°Just. What.¡± Tiffany had crossed her arms. Blood was rushing through her tan skin, leaving a vein visible. He forced a chuckle while buttoning up his trousers an standing up. He began stepping towards Tiffany, but when she arched a solitary eyebrow, he stumbled to a stop. ¡°You¡¯re serious, then?¡± he asked. ¡°Your words offended both myself and this establishment,¡± Tiffany said with a sniff. He rubbed the back of his head, fingers running through the greased hair. The corner of his lips twitched, where normally he would have held some nature of smoking apparatus. Fortunately, the Madame prohibited smoking indoors¨Cthe scent was difficult to remove. ¡°Ahh, yeah, well¡­ I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± he trailed off, likely hoping to avoid further issue. Unlike some lower-end brothels, Ma¡¯Ritz took proper care of the escorts and treated them with respect. Sometimes, the patrons required a reminder. ¡°Words may have dug your own grave, but you have floundered too deep for mere words to remove you from it.¡± Tiffany¡¯s arms crossed and tightened, her scowl broke through her paralyzing facial alchemics, creating unseemly wrinkles that ruined her carefully applied foundation. The end result appeared rather theatrical and unsettling. ¡°Well, uh¡­ can I make it up then?¡± he asked. At first, Tiffany considered simply allowing him to pay his way into forgiveness. Normally, Tiffany would have allowed this, as Ma¡¯Ritz ultimately was a business. However, the man had truly offended her, and with the new girl who was much younger, what the man said had struck a very sore nerve. Thus, Tiffany was disinclined to simply accept additional Chargers. ¡°How so?¡± Tiffany asked, questioning further what the man was implying. He was a true scoundrel, and he ran something of a service for multiple pit crews. Thus, Tiffany would not be surprised if he had a more creative or innovative means of gaining forgiveness. Especially as her mother¡¯s abode was within the city¡¯s slums. In fact, now that Tiffany considered the man¡¯s connections, and her own mother¡¯s vulnerability, she wondered if she had not been somewhat hasty in her reactions. However, what was done, was done. She could only make the best decision to alleviate this intolerable situation. ¡°Well, the Garnets have been makin¡¯ some noise about this place, and I figured you an¡¯ your Madame might appreciate some o¡¯ my expertise?¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Tiffany prompted. She of course knew of the Garnets, one of the Pit Crews operating in the city. What business they had with Ma¡¯Ritz, she was unsure. She was also unsure how this would be of value to the Madame. However, she was intrigued. As she had some connections to the slums, learning of the movements of some of the more powerful and less scrupulous denizens could be of value. ¡°Tell me, then.¡± ¡°Sure, sure,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s like this. One of the new girls here¨C¡± ¡°Purple hair?¡± Tiffany asked, thinking of the recently employed Jackie, though she was not a true employee, more of a hired help, along with Esmerelda¡¯s pet Marianne. ¡°Yea, think so. She and the Garnets got into somethin of a tussle, and she killed several o¡¯ the boys. Low level enforcers¨C¡± ¡°What?¡± Tiffany asked breathlessly. Was the new girl a murderer? Tiffany doubted it, but what circumstances could have led to this? ¡°When¡­ why?¡± ¡°Hey, you sure you wanna know?¡± he asked. ¡°Of course,¡± Tiffany responded with little to no prior thought. ¡°Normally this would cost ya¨C¡± ¡°-yes yes, but you are paying for your earlier indiscretion,¡±Tiffany said. ¡°Yeah. Course. So some o¡¯ the pigs had a deal with the Garnets. Regular stuff. The pigs collect a fee, an¡¯ if they don¡¯t get it, they send in the boys. Follow so far?¡± Tiffany nodded. That did seem like the standard that the baron held for his men. An unfortunate situation, certainly. ¡°Well, your Madame refused to pay¨C¡± This time, both of Tiffany¡¯s eyebrows rose. For what reason would the Madame refuse to pay the bribes? Certainly, they were distasteful. But business was business. ¡°Yeah, nuts, right? Anyways, the boys come along, intendin¡¯ on makin¡¯ an example o¡¯ some fool comin¡¯ outta here, and that girl o¡¯ yers drops em. Messed ¡®em up good too. Their loved ones barely recognized the corpses. Messy business.¡± ¡°Messy indeed,¡± Tiffany said, almost grimacing at the situation. A vendetta from a criminal gang would not be healthy for Jackie, nor those around her, including Ma¡¯Ritz and all involved. ¡°What will they do?¡± He shrugged. ¡°They aren¡¯t sure yet. But expect ¡®em to make a move sometime soon. Might wanna check on yer Ma. Move her or somethin.¡± Tiffany nodded slowly. ¡°Yes, this absolves you of your offense. Next time, ensure to make a more appropriate use of your tongue.¡± Tiffany exited the room, her thoughts in turmoil. What was Madame Ritz playing at, refusing to pay a tax? Or did she? Perhaps there had been a misunderstanding? The new girl was on watch duty, so perhaps¡­ but what could have elicited such immediate violence? Certainly, life was cheap. But this was the Hill. Outright murder should be kept quiet, not noisy, not out on the streets. In the end, she decided that the man¡¯s advice was probably correct. It had been a few weeks since she had last visited her mother. Perhaps, perhaps it was time for her to make a visit? Tiffany pulled her plain brown cloak close around her, the hood obscuring her blonde hair, a threadbare scarf obscuring her face. She had just crossed the divide, the highway that split Southbridge in two, between the mercantile and the industrial, between the well-to-do and the impoverished. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. She had just entered the slums, and she hoped to avoid drawing attention or suspicion, for there were always hungry eyes on the lookout for a victim, and while she owned some means to dissuade potential attackers, those means would only invite additional scrutiny. With the highway crossing behind her, she took a tertiary street that split off from the main thoroughfare. She headed away from the warehouses and the factorums, and headed towards the stacked tenement houses that were made of brick and wood and rose crookedly into the sky. Little light reached some of these paths, which led to a host of unpleasant smells and activity. Another justification for a face covering, though the cloth hardly removed all of the stench. She pressed a fresh sachet to her nose and pressed on. Keeping to the shadows, she progressed down the winding streets. They were more walkways than road, as enough clutter piled against the sides of the tenements to obstruct cart traffic. Only when a building collapsed would a road be cleared, and then only enough to bring in whatever supplies were required to sloppily rebuild it. The slum lords were unkind to their people, one of the reasons that Tiffany wished her mother would move. However, relocating her mother would require a host of things, the least being the Chargers to pay for the relocation. For as kind as the Madame was, the Ma¡¯Ritz was not a long term dormitory for the weak and feeble. As she approached her target, she noticed a shift in the territory markers; she almost lost her way due to them. In the slums, none of the streets were long enough to name, stretching only until the next building before either twisting or terminating at a junction. Even if the streets had been named, street signs would be defaced or stolen the very day they were installed. This meant that traveling in the slums required a keen memory of buildings and landmarks, though many also relied on the territory markers as well. And so, when Tiffany saw the yellowish brown diamonds painted onto the sides of buildings where before they had not, she stumbled as a wave of confusion on vertigo assaulted her. For becoming lost in the slums was not conducive to living. But her overlapping memories, of the buildings and landmarks, and the territory markers, showed her that perhaps she was on the correct path, and only the garish paint had been added. Previously, the territory had belonged to the Sapphires, but now it belonged to someone else. A surprising change for a period of only several weeks. While territory did change hands, often the change was gradual, unless another war had begun, or perhaps a significant deal. Regardless of the change, Tiffany pushed on, finally reaching the tenement which housed her mother. The building seemed the same as most of the others at first glance. It was constructed of bricks and masonry along the first several floors, and then rickety and old lumber for the rest. It stretched of comparable height to the other buildings, perhaps ten stories in all, though Tiffany had never bothered to count. On closer inspection, one would see that the upper stories had flower boxes and balconies, where the light was greatest. This would be one of the few outwardly visible concessions towards comfort. Tiffany went to the sole entrance on the ground floor, thick, iron banded doors. No other windows or doorways could be found on the first two floors, a common concession to practicality here in the slums. She lifted a heavy knocker and made her presence known. Thoom. Thoom. Thoom. She then waited a moment, before knocking once more. Thoom. A panel slid open at face height. Even though the panel was rectangular in shape, one would find little success in pressing an attack through it. The opening was covered in a metallic mesh, and the surroundings reinforced with welded steel. On the other side of the opening was an obscured face. ¡°Reason for visit?¡± an androgynous voice asked. ¡°Visiting hours,¡± Tiffany answered. ¡°My mother.¡± ¡°Name.¡± ¡°Theodora Digger,¡± Tiffany answered, before anticipating the next question and rattling off her mother¡¯s code. The face disappeared for a moment, likely checking a ledger of clients, codes, and permitted visitors. When they reappeared, they asked, ¡°Tiffany Digger?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Tiffany answered. ¡°That would be me. Might I enter now?¡± Rather than answering, the panel slid shut. Less than thirty seconds later, a latch clicked, and the door opened. Tiffany pushed forward, nearly struggling against the heavy door and the poorly balanced hinges. Once she was through to the otherside, she found herself in a short atrium that ended in another door, with nobody else in sight. Thus far, nothing out of the ordinary. The door behind her shut and the latch clicked as the lock engaged. A moment later, the door ahead of her unlocked, and the androgynous person waited. ¡°Same room,¡± they said. ¡°Do you require an escort?¡± Tiffany shook her head slightly. ¡°I know the way,¡± Tiffany said. The other person nodded and stepped aside, allowing Tiffany to enter the lobby of the assisted living home, one of the only of its kind in the city. In most families, when the parents grew old and senile, the family would care for their elder members until they passed. In some cases, it was not unheard of for the family to hasten their elders along, or to neglect them and allow them to waste away on the streets. Typically, this depended upon the character of the children, and upon fiscal circumstances. In the upper city, it was far more common for the elderly to receive appropriate care and comfort in their later years. In the slums, it was much more variable. However, even in the slums, even with a low chance of filial piety, there were numbers enough to ensure that plenty of children wished to care for their parents. Yet, in the lower city, often times the children were unable to perform this duty. The reasons were as numerous as there were people, but typically it came down to working hours, available living space, poor wages, or a combination thereof. In the first and second instance, where the elder¡¯s home was unable to provide or accommodate the elder¡¯s needs, a solution, albeit, an expensive solution, was available. This solution was the same that Tiffany employed for her own mother, as Tiffany lacked siblings to shoulder the burden, and as Tiffany was unable to house her mother in her own quarter at Ma¡¯Ritz. Tiffany passed several elders and working adults in the lobby, ignoring their conversations, noting the board games and the teas available, noting the scent¨Cunlike the slums outside, the interior of this building was kept clean and fresh, both in paint and in hygiene. Even the tea appeared freshly imported and well made. They may live in the slums, but Southbridge was still a major trade-hub, and Tiffany spent a good portion of her earnings to ensure her mother received the best possible care. Thus, as Tiffany passed one of the attendants, Tiffany offered a respectful nod. It could not be easy to maintain this business. Tiffany reached the stairwell and had a moment¡¯s consideration. An elevator was available, but it was slow to ascend, and was often monopolized by the elders. Given this, she decided to take the stairs. What was a little more walking, afterall. After the fifth flight of stairs, she arrived at her mother¡¯s floor. It had a communal space at the center, and several branching hallways containing multiple living quarters. An orderly was preparing stew and keeping an eye out for untoward behavior in the common space, not that the several people currently engaged in a card game would cause such misbehavior. The orderly greeted Tiffany with a terse nod, of which Tiffany returned. What more was there to be said? Unless Tiffany¡¯s mother had fallen to another episode, however, from the orderly¡¯s trite behavior, Tiffany doubted that was the case. Tiffany continued down a branching path, until she arrived at one door in particular. It had been decorated with several pieces of amateur artwork, portraying a messy jungle with crude smears. Undoubtedly her mother¡¯s work, from one of her better days. Tiffany knocked on the door. ¡°Mother?¡± Tiffany called out. ¡°Are you there? Are you prepared for a visit?¡± She resisted the urge to worry her lip as she waited. One of these days, she feared that her mother would fall silent and remain so. Though that was not today. After a lengthy pause, a light and ditzy twist upon a mature voice answered. ¡°A visitor?! A caller? Oh my, it has been quite some time! Although¡­ You don¡¯t sound like my type¡­¡± the confused woman giggled. ¡°But it is the age of experimentation! Come in, come in!¡± ¡°Mother¡­¡± Tiffany said, wincing ever so slightly. It was, apparently, a bad day. ¡°Who?¡± Her mother asked as she opened the door. Her mother¡¯s eyes failed to recognize Tiffany. ¡°Oh¨Coh my! Why is such a thing so concealed beneath such drab cloth? You must come in!¡± ¡°It¡¯s me, Mother. Your daughter¡­¡± Tiffany spoke slowly, hoping to knock one of her mother¡¯s memories loose. This was one of the reasons Tiffany disliked visiting. No matter how often Tiffany dropped by, her mother always seemed to forget. The experience ranged from uncomfortable to painful. And if her mother failed to remember regardless, then where was the harm in the negligence? ¡°You might be confused dear,¡± her mother said. Her cheek had been smudged with white and green paint, her hazel eyes crisp despite her mental illness, and her cheeks still plump and full of life. Tiffany¡¯s mother had aged very well, though she was not nearly at an age that she should be rendered feeble. ¡°But do come in! I have several projects I would love some input on¡­¡± Tiffany entered her mother¡¯s abode, already regretting her decision to visit. A painful hour passed, an awkward hour, one in which Tiffany tried again and again to remind her mother just who she was. At several moments, it seemed that her mother was on the verge of remembering, but then it slipped away, and once more Tiffany¡¯s mother explained various landscapes, color palettes, and appropriate angles for the horizon. Tiffany managed to smile and act interested, but it was hard, oh so very difficult, for this was hardly the first time Tiffany had had this conversation with her mother. But at the end, her mother shooed Tiffany out, as her mother was once more feeling inspired, and she had no need for a visitor at such a time. So, Tiffany saw herself out. As she exited, she planned to speak to the orderly about her mother¡¯s progress, and upon the wait-list for some of the more experimental treatments that periodically came available, but the orderly was not to be found. Knowing that her shift would start that evening, Tiffany decided it would be best to return while the sky was still bright, both for safety, and for ample time to prepare. And thus, Tiffany began her descent down the stairs, and once again entered the lobby. Or she would have, at any rate, had a rough hand not grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her back into the stairwell, towards the shadows beneath the stairs. Tiffany felt a moment of fear, and prepared to make sound while deploying some of her self protection tools, but the man who grabbed her made no further attacks, and Tiffany recognized the garnet colored armband. The man was a member of the Garnets; several simultaneous thoughts rushed through her head. ¡°Easy now,¡± the man said in a soothing voice. ¡°Not here to trouble ya, just to talk.¡± He lifted his grimy hand with his polluted fingernails off of her shoulder. Tiffany could tell from his armband that he was at least one step up from the basic thug, but still towards the bottom of the organization. It would be doubtful that any of the higher-ups would be waiting for her. Which meant he was here for a message. Now, whether that message involved violence or not, would likely depend upon Tiffany¡¯s actions. She crossed her arms and stared up at the hoodlum, refusing to be cowed. ¡°Well? What business does the Garnets have with me?¡± she asked, completely ignoring the fact that a thug should have no place inside an assisted living home. Likely, either bribes or threats were used for him to gain access. Disappointing, but a reality of the slums of Southbridge. ¡°Heh, straight to the point? Good,¡± he said gruffly, but with proper enunciation. Perhaps there was some hope for him and for this discussion. ¡°It¡¯s about your employer. You¡¯re a working gal at Ma¡¯Ritz, yeah?¡± Tiffany nodded, ignoring the fact that she was far more than an ordinary ¡®working girl.¡¯ The nuances would likely be lost on this imbecile. ¡°Good. So, my boss gots¨C¡± Tiffany winced but refrained from interrupting. ¡°-a problem with one o¡¯ your girls. Know the one?¡± Tiffany performed an admirable job of keeping her face smooth. ¡°I believe so. Purple hair, cyan eyes, pale skin? Short.¡± The man snorted, ¡°Aye, pity she¡¯s a looker. But she went an¡¯ messed with the wrong folk.¡± The mess that Jackie had landed herself in should have had nothing to do with Ma¡¯Ritz or the other employees there, however, life did not work in such an idealistic manner. Instead, association with Jackie could threaten everyone involved, depending on how the situation was handled. Tiffany remained cautious. ¡°If the issue lies with her, then why did you seek me out here?¡± And it was clear that the man had sought Tiffany out. This was no chance encounter. Likely, they had a watcher of some sort, which meant they knew far too much about Tiffany, and likely, Tiffany¡¯s vulnerable mother. ¡°Again, straight to it,¡± the man said, nodding. ¡°Well then, I¡¯ll be straight. We want that girl.¡± Tiffany held her peace for a minute. The man appeared serious. ¡°Then take her?¡± Tiffany offered, keeping the attention upon Jackie and not her associations. ¡°I have no authority on this, and I have hardly spoken to the girl. Surely you could simply seize her? She hardly remains inside all day, and she trains down in the Mercenary Quarter.¡± ¡°Trust me, we know,¡± he scoffed in disgust. ¡°It¡¯s hard to catch her though. Slippery girl. That¡¯s why we need your help.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Tiffany prompted, acknowledging that she was, in fact, in a difficult place. Neither she nor he needed to state as much. The situation was both obvious and dire. ¡°So we figured, since yer one of us, that you¡¯d help us track her down¡­¡± Tiffany gave a very slow nod. ¡°Did you already have a plan?¡± she asked. ¡°Not that I¡¯m agreeing just yet of course¨C¡± The man¡¯s nostril¡¯s flared, and Tiffany had to wave a hand to stop him from cutting her off and brandishing a crude threat. ¡°-not a disagreement! Of course. But the plan might not be as viable with insider knowledge¡­ and that is what you¡¯re after here?¡± He let out a breath and rubbed his scruffy beard. ¡°Aye, that is, that is. You¡¯ll give us her schedule though? Help make sure she¡¯s alone? Maybe dose her?¡± Tiffany almost grimaced at that. ¡°Dose her with¡­ ?¡± ¡°Whatever we give you,¡± he answered gruffly and immediately. Several substances were possible, and most of them were awful. Not that the fate the Garnets had planned for Jackie was any better. ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± Tiffany said, half buying time, and half hoping to escape the situation. What she should do is immediately inform the Madame and allow her to deal with this mess. Not that she would of course. ¡°Good. We¡¯ll be in touch¡­ and, this goes without saying. But yer ma?¡± he pointed up at the stairwell. ¡°Cross us, and she may as well be dead already.¡± Tiffany frowned at the one-sided agreement. ¡°All stick and no treat?¡± Tiffany asked. ¡°Huh?¡± the brute asked, breathing through his mouth. ¡°Is there any incentive to helping you in this situation? Or is it only a threat.¡± ¡°Uh. Hm. Maybe, if the bosses agree. Got something reasonable-like in mind?¡± ¡°My mother requires treatment for a mental illness. There should be several mid-range Marks available to ameliorate her condition. Perhaps¡­ ?¡± The man¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Right. We got a contract with the Skingineer. Might get ya in with her. Depends on the boss then. I¡¯ll check though, yeah?¡± ¡°Yes, please do that,¡± Tiffany said. ¡°And I¡¯ll get her schedule. I assume you know where to find me besides here?¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah. We know.¡± And just like that, Tiffany ended the incredibly uncomfortable discussion. All along her way back to Blossom Hill, her skin crawled as though she was being watched. Likely, she was. She felt dirtied and unclean. That the Garnets wanted Jackie alive meant a fate worse than death. That they could corner Tiffany like that, and hold her mother over her head? That was intolerable. But just what could Tiffany do? Madame was a strong lady with a proper heart, but even then, business was business, and Madame had none with Tiffany¡¯s mother. The entire way back home, Tiffany wondered if there was not some other means to escape this situation. Absorption 2.4.1 I wiped the grime from my face and tunic, standing up from the sand where I had just landed. Kate stood over me, her blunt bastard sword hanging at a relaxed angle. She was smirking, but upon a quick inspection, I could see the perspiration upon her brow, and the slightly labored breath. ¡°I almost had you that time,¡± I said. ¡°Keep telling yourself that,¡± she responded, walking over and slinging an arm over my shoulders. ¡°But you are getting better.¡± We had been training like normal, first running the gauntlet, and then sparring. Kate with her sword, and I with my battle-ribbon. Truthfully, I was not certain why I had chosen the ribbon anymore. It seemed that the additional trouble of learning to wield the battle-ribbon far exceeded the benefits of using it. Though, it should be noted, that as I was improving with laying snaring arcs, that I was looking good. At least, judging by the few onlookers who watched me practice, and judging by the slight flush that Kate sometimes had in her cheeks while I practiced. ¡°You¡¯re sure that¡¯s it for you today?¡± she asked. ¡°You¡¯re finishing up a bit earlier than normal.¡± To answer Kate¡¯s questions, I nodded and glanced around. Now that we had stopped our spar, the passersby in the Mercenary Quarter had begun to move on, and a certain irate Instructor Blackrest was eyeing Kate and I with suspicion. ¡°Oi!¡± he called out. ¡°Get back to it or clear off!¡± Kate and I shared a smirk. Over the past few weeks, the Instructor¡¯s threats had begun to lose their direness. ¡°In a bit, Instructor!¡± I answered back. ¡°I promise I will.,¡± He muttered, but turned his attention back to the other trainees under his supervision. ¡°But why?¡± Kate wanted to know. ¡°We were having so much fun! Can¡¯t you practice just a little bit more?¡± Kate made her best impression of a puppy dog¡¯s needful eyes, but it only ended up comical. I snorted a laugh. ¡°Kate, you¡¯re far to dominating to ever make that pitiful expression work.¡± She dropped the false eyes and chuckled along. ¡°Yeah, but so what has you leaving early? Work?¡± ¡°Somewhat,¡± I answered. ¡°Cook finally gave me directions to the market she uses to stock her special pantry, and she expects me to return with a few items.¡± ¡°...can¡¯t you just get all that stuff closer to Ma¡¯Ritz?¡± Kate asked. ¡°Or send for a porter?¡± I shrugged, apparently not. It has to meet her expectations. ¡°Huh. And where is this place?¡± ¡°A ways¡­ other side of the Divide.¡± Kate breathed in through her teeth. ¡°That place is sorta sketchy.¡± I agreed with the sentiment. It was basically the slums and industrial quarter of Southbridge. I knew that much, and I had only passed through the neighborhood once. It had left that poor of an impression. And besides, it was likely also where the gangs, or the Pit Crews, as this city called them, recruited out of. As it was, I did feel there was a hefty amount of risk travelling there. Mitigated risk, of course. I had not been training for so long for no reason, and I did bear several high quality Marks, and I did have an incredibly murderously capable false-arm. But still, one could never be too careful. ¡°An escort would be appreciated,¡± I said, dangling the opportunity to spend more time with me before the girl. ¡°You¡¯re aksing me to go with you?¡± kate asked, arching an eyebrow and giving a lopsided smile. I nodded. ¡°Only if you want¨C¡± I started, but she cut me off. ¡°It¡¯s a date!¡± Kate and I walked side by side down the boulevards stretching through the good part of town. The roads were wide, the buildings crowded with shopfronts and glass window displays, and decorative trees stood every so often. It might not have technically been a garden district, as that would have been Blossom Hill, but it was still an uplifted area. It was the middle class stretch, where those with enough capital to escape the slums lived. Still though, even here, I could see signs of unrest among the populace. The typical tellings of crime, though nothing terribly overt. Under the eaves in one side street, there was a lookout of somesort, watching the people come and go. Fortunately I noticed him first, allowing me to turn my head the other way and escape notice. Of course, it was likely unnecessary, but I refused to gamble needlessly on if the lookout was an informant for any of my potential enemies. There were other signs as well. Several residents scurried about their business, harried expressions straining their faces with stress. Either they were late for their appointments, overworked, or were on the verge of dire news. One or two people of this nature could have been the first, but after the first handful, I began to realize that the culture surrounding the city¡¯s middleclass was hardly set in stone. And of course, as I walked side by side Kate, as we made our way towards the Divide, the highway that split Southbridge in two, she forcefully slipped my arm around the crook of her elbow, and she took the opportunity to converse without the forceful Instructor Blackrest breathing down our necks. During the conversation, Kate continued pressing forward nearly bowling over anyone that was too slow to clear off the sidewalk, but at the same time, she maintained enough wherewithal to continue peppering me with questions. One of these in particular was insightful, and offered me a chance to learn more of someone I had just met recently. ¡°Did you figure out how you¡¯ll pay tuition yet?¡± Kate asked. ¡°I asked my mom if she¡¯d help ya, but she said not a chance, not unless you¡¯re set on joining under her order. I asked my aunt the same, but she said just about the same. And despite our practice, I just don¡¯t see you as that type?¡± She cocked a questioning eyebrow towards me. I swallowed. ¡°I had not realized you were asking them on my behalf,¡± I said. ¡°Course I did!¡± she gave me what she probably thought was a winsome smile. ¡°But I didn¡¯t wanna mention it beforehand. I was gonna surprise you with the good news.¡± ¡°...but, they said no, right?¡± ¡°Well¡­ yeah, but I did ask, and if you¡¯re willing to sign your life away for a life of taking orders and serving in arms, then you got your angle.¡± After a pause, and a momentary lapse of control where I almost showed my revulsion, I managed to answer somewhat neutrally, ¡°I¡¯ll have to think about it.¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s just an option. You¡¯ve got to pay for it somehow, right?¡± This had actually come up several times before. The answer was much the same. ¡°Esmerelda confirmed that she¡¯ll have enough for both myself and Marianne.¡± Kate groaned in exasperation. ¡°That¡¯s nice of her¡­ but are you sure you can trust her? Like, are you really, really sure?¡± ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I?¡± ¡°I know you like her, you¡¯ve only said nice things about her, and she introduced you and I, so that¡¯s worth a whole lot in my books¡­ but¡­¡± ¡°But?¡± I asked, having a feeling where she was going and already tamping down my indignation and irritation. ¡°She¡¯s a whore,¡± Kate finally said, far too plainly. ¡°So?¡± I asked. ¡°What do you mean, ¡®so?¡¯¡± Kate scoffed. ¡°The woman makes her living by shoving¨C¡± I pushed a hand against Kate¡¯s mouth before she put anymore unwelcome images in my head. ¡°That¡¯s none of our business. But¡­ if you¡¯re concerned about my tuition¡­¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have any Cee. All mine is going into my Marks. Gonna get superior grade for sure.¡± I rolled my eyes. It was always about Kate and her Marks. Which, I supposed did make sense, and in some senses was admirable. Still bothersome to hear about thought. ¡°That is not what I was going to ask,¡± I said. ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°I just so happened to receive another offer recently.¡± ¡°From?¡± Kate asked cautiously. ¡°She never gave me her name¨C¡± ¡°-sounds sketchy-¡± ¡°-but she was bossing around a woman named Lady Trigg.¡± Kate hissed. ¡°Do you know her by chance?¡± I asked, knowing full well that Kate did. ¡°The only woman that can boss Trigg around is Princess Marissa. When¡­¡± Kate swallowed, and looked like she had swallowed a shard of glass, ¡°When did you come across such an esteemed public figure?¡± ¡°At the brothel¡¯s tavern.¡± A deep laugh escaped and squeezed itself up Kate¡¯s throat. ¡°No joke?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know for sure if that was a princess, but she was sitting with a purple cloak concealing her face and Lady Trigg in a corner table.¡± ¡°Huh. Wonder what she was doing there. Wait a minute¡­ you said she made an offer?¡± ¡°Full ride scholarship and tuition.¡± ¡°But¡­ why?¡± I shrugged, ¡°I must have caught her eye. She never gave me a reason.¡± ¡°Were there strings? There had to have been, right?¡± I shrugged, ¡°Probably.¡± In truth, just thinking back to the intensity with which Princess Marrissa gazed upon me left my skin goosepimpling, as though a cold specter were breathing down the back of my neck, whispering within my ears. In some ways, I enjoyed the attention. But in most ways, I loathed the connotations of ownership¡­ especially after such recent events in the Waste. Events that involved that very same woman. ¡°But you aren¡¯t going to take any deals from her¡­ right?¡± Kate asked, sounding concerned. ¡°I don¡¯t intend on it,¡± I answered. But before Kate finished sighing in relief, I added, ¡°But I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ll really get a choice. She¡¯s royalty¡­¡± Leaving the power disparity and tyranny unspoken. ¡°You should,¡± Kate said, but she sounded unsure. ¡°Suppose you aren¡¯t hiding any powerful friends or benefactors?¡± she asked, mostly hopefully. I snorted. ¡°Yeah¡­ I didn¡¯t think so. Well, at least you have some connections.¡± She was likely referring to herself. ¡°It¡¯s not like she¡¯ll just disappear you. If she would, then she wouldn¡¯t have offered a deal. Just make sure not to sign anything. Or maybe figure out why she wants you, and get rid of whatever that is¡­¡± she said thoughtfully. ¡°I¡¯m not sure that would work,¡± I said thoughtfully. Kate eyed me from the side, a blush tinting her pale almost-blue skin. ¡°Yeah¡­ probably not.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not even sure why she¡¯s so interested in me!¡± I said grumpily. ¡°There are tons of women in this city!¡± ¡°But how many look like you?¡± Kate asked. I scoffed, but she spoke before I could. ¡°No, I¡¯m serious,¡± Kate said. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen purple hair on anyone, and you have it naturally¡­ unless you¡¯re religious about dying your hair. And then there¡¯s your pale skin, which isn¡¯t that common in general. And finally, your¡­ athletic tendencies? Yeah, I think I could see the appeal.¡± I hid my face in my shoulder, facing away from Kate. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. ¡°Besides, who knows!¡± Kate said. ¡°Maybe she wants to recruit you for her little side project.¡± ¡°Side project?¡± I asked. Kate snorted. ¡°You¡¯ve seen them. Her investment into Southbridge, the teenaged champions, or the so-called heroes,¡± she said derisively. ¡°Like that godslicking cunt Velvetcall,¡± Kate growled the name. Obviously there was some bad history there, though I was afraid to ask. As we were walking, we came across the Divide, which was a sunken highway running through Southbridge. There were only several bridges spanning it, making them the obvious chokepoints to either enter or exit the slums. ¡°Anyways, we can talk about all this later,¡± Kate said. ¡°Best to keep a somewhat sharp eye out. You know where we¡¯re headed?¡± ¡°I think so?¡± I said, suddenly unsure of the quality of the directions Cook provided, especially with the looming shoddily constructed tenement houses rising up on the opposite side of the road. We crossed the bridge, a wooden overpass spanning the highway, and entered the cramped streets of the cheap tenement housing, where many of the less fortunate laborers homed. This half of the city could be divided into three major sectors. To the south, nearest the chasm, was the mining operations, where most of the ¡®Pits¡¯ earned their names. In the middle, where we currently were, was the slums proper, where the cheapest of the housing was, along with the minimal services and utilities required to house the people. To the north, and wrapping around the outside all the way to the mining section, would be the industrial area, where factorums and warehouses were available. Of all the sections, the northern section was the best policed. Likely as that would be where the most taxable income was generated. Kate¡¯s nose twisted in distaste as we passed a colorful and chunky stain along a wall. ¡°If only this place smelled better,¡± she muttered. She had a point. The scent of stale urine and worse filled the air. While the city did have a sewage system, people were people. ¡°You sure the shop is this way?¡± Kate asked once again. We had stepped onto a narrow pathway stretching between two buildings that leaned into each other. The alleyway, more a cavern than anything else, was dark and unlit. ¡°Because I can¡¯t imagine anything edible coming from there.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not in there,¡± I answered, also glancing into the shadows surrounding us. The pathway was wide enough for Kate and I to walk abreast, but only if we rubbed elbows with each other and the walls. ¡°Then why¨C¡± Kate started to ask again, before I followed up. ¡°Through here. I only have the list of turns to take. If we deviated, I¡¯m uncertain we would ever find the place.¡± Kate scoffed, ¡°fair.¡± Her grip tightened on the hilt of her bastard sword and she partially unsheathed the blade by an inch. ¡°Expecting trouble?¡± I asked in an amused tone. I also had my grip on my battle-ribbon. Though, were I to use it in these tight confines, I would likely be depending on the wooden grip like a blackjack, and not the ribbon itself. ¡°Get ready,¡± Kate said as we approached the end of the alley. It would be a perfect spot for an ambush. She paused right before the exit, and I paused just behind where she stood. It would not do to spring the trap first. She glanced at me from the corner of her eye and gave a quick nod, before jumping through the invisible dividing line between the alley and the street beyond. I readied my own weapon and prepared to follow, after I identified what threat waited beyond, that is. However, a second passed, with Kate spinning in place, without any further steel being drawn, without any shouts or threats or scuffles. Kate let out a long exhale and grinned back towards me. ¡°Better safe than sorry,¡± she said ruefully. I snorted and followed her out, leading the way per the instructions I had received. As we walked, Kate began giving an impromptu lecture on the various qualities of Marks. Were I in my previous world, I would have said she was ¡®nerding out.¡¯ Here, I could say that she was obsessed with empowerment. ¡°-and that¡¯s why I took a caravan up to Bath. Or tried to,¡± she finally finished, explaining her pursuit of a superior mark to compliment the Sweord Mark she already owned. ¡°A shame that didn¡¯t work out,¡± I said, only half paying attention as I watched our surroundings. ¡°Yeah. But it¡¯s not too bad. A sacred artist will be stopping by the Academy at the start of term. If you bring your own living gem, you can get a specific attuned superior mark too. One of the reasons why the Academy is worthwhile. Otherwise it would just be a waste of time,¡± she grumbled. ¡°I can see you have your priorities straight,¡± I said, mostly under my breath, but Kate heard me and grinned. ¡°Crown knows it,¡± she joked. We continued chatting as we followed the circuitous route that Cook had given. I could have sworn we had passed some of these turns more than once, though everything seemed to share the same rundown look and it was hard to tell. More concerning, however, was the prickling sensation I felt upon the back of my neck, as though we were being watched. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Which made sense, considering my boisterous friend, and considering how out of place we looked compared to the impoverished denizens of this neighborhood. As we took another turn, heading down another narrow and ill lit stretch, a drab shadow shot towards us, coupled with the pitter patter of small feet running across the hard stone path. It happened fast. They had been waiting in ambush, whoever this shadow was, hidden beneath a camouflaging cloak. I tensed. My false arm¡¯s tendrils coiled upwards like a spring, ready to act. The shadow was darting towards us, aiming towards me, but Kate stood between the shadow and I. Before I could prepare further, Kate reacted. For as soon as the shadow began moving, she had responded without pausing, and with a single motion, Kate unsheathed her sword and slashed diagonally upward, intercepting the shadow. There was a squeal. Kate, now holding her sword in both hands, scanned the surroundings. A man up the street averted his eyes. The prickling sensation continued. I assumed there were observers above us in the buildings. When no further attacks came, Kate used her boot to nudge the filth stained brown and gray clothed figure over onto its back. Whoever it was, they were still groaning. As they rolled over, I saw a few things all at once that left me feeling a mixture of uncomfortable things. The first, was the blood and the white tube-like things that should never be exposed. Kate¡¯s sword had crossed the stomach, and it had bit deep, severing several of what I assumed was intestines. From the copious amounts of blood and bile, it was likely safe to assume the person was not long for this world. The second, and most concerning, was the face grimacing in pain, with tears leaking from eyes. The person was a child, no older than eight or nine, young enough that I was unable to determine gender. I stood there for several seconds, shock washing through me. ¡°So young¡­¡± I said, mostly mumbling to myself. ¡°Hm?¡± Kate asked, glancing back over her shoulder at me. ¡°Say something?¡± ¡°Just a kid¡­ and for what, pickpocketing?¡± I said, still too numb to realize what I was saying, and the potential repercussions thereof. The child¡¯s brown eyes met my own, briefly, before blinking open and shut, as though trying to clear the pain from them. Kate glowered, and then kicked one of the child¡¯s arms. Something clattered across the stone, something that had been tangled in the folds of fabric near where the child¡¯s hands had been. It was a knife, almost a stiletto. ¡°Don¡¯t see many pickpockets use one of those,¡± she said. Instead of answering, I kept silent, watching the dying child suffer in whimpers. My eyes were drawn away by motion and they found Kate wiping her sword clean with a thumb, a thumb which she promptly slid into her mouth. She made a face and spat. ¡°Unenhanced. Likely trying to earn enough to afford some low grade back alley elixir. A Marking would have been beyond their means.¡± I grimaced, before catching myself and smoothing my expression. What was done was done, and I would only lose by alienating Kate at this point. So instead, I asked, ¡°you can tell just by tasting their blood?¡± She nodded as though it were simple. ¡°Of course. Most enhancements affect the body, and blood is a pretty key part of the body, so yeah¡­ though it might take some practice. Wanna try?¡± she finished asking, wiping the same thumb once again across the droplets of blood that remained on her blade, and then holding the thumb out towards me expectantly. To my shame, a part of me did in fact want to try. My stomach grumbled. I blushed, but shook my head furiously. ¡°No thanks,¡± I said. ¡°Suit yourself,¡± Kate said, before sheathing her blade and stomping down upon the child¡¯s temple and continuing on with her day as though nothing happened. ¡°You coming?¡± she called back, seeing that I had yet to move. My eyes lingered on the child for a second longer, before I hastened my step to catch up. Attempting to distract myself from the macabre scene just behind me, and from the memory of the horrible sounds that echoed on and on and on and reverberated within my very soul¨C ¡°You don¡¯t even know the way,¡± I said, quickly catching up and outpacing Kate. ¡°Then by all means, lead,¡± Kate said, before winking and adding, ¡°the view¡¯s better from behind anyways.¡± I rolled my eyes and squashed the last of the uncomfortable memory, just as Kate had squashed that poor child¡¯s¨C ¡°We¡¯re fairly close,¡± I said. ¡°Do you recognize where we are?¡± Kate scoffed and made a show of looking around at the occasional graffiti. ¡°Can¡¯t say I come here often, so no.¡± ¡°You come to the slums at all?¡± I asked. ¡°Sometimes, on fight night.¡± She must have caught my confused expression, as she then added, ¡°I¡¯ll show you sometime. Anyways, eyes sharp. Where there¡¯s one fool, there¡¯s another.¡± Following her advice, I did keep my eyes open. The streets had widened slightly enough for a cart to possibly fit, and along doorways and exterior stairways there were several lounging persons. Several watched us, just as we watched them. One small group in particular wore similar marks and coloring. Notably, they were beast-kin of some sort, almost similar to the Kaiva, but with rounder features. Kate also saw them, and she spat to the side, while murmuring in a low voice. ¡°See their necks?¡± she asked. Kate was referring to the leather chokers that they wore. Two of them were loose, clearly unrestrictive. One of them was missing a collar altogether, which other than Cook, I was unused to seeing in Southbridge. ¡°The collars?¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± Kate said, her voice still hushed. ¡°Those likely belong to criminals.¡± That did not completely make sense to me, because I remembered the Red Queen and the bandits had their slaves wear actual collars. So I inquired further. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t the criminals want to control their people? And isn¡¯t that what the collars are supposed to do?¡± Kate frowned, ¡°There are more ways to control besides a collar.¡± She had a jaded tone, as if she knew something about experiencing slavery. Highly doubtful, I thought. But still, I decided it best to let the subject drop, and instead I asked, ¡°What type of Kaiva are they? I¡¯ve not seen any like that before.¡± Unfortunately, as I asked this, we were adjacent to two regular Kaiva with sharp ears loitering at the mouth of another alley. ¡°One of these ones, the furless says?¡± a Kaivan male said in the Kiavan tongue with much derision. Kate flinched slightly upon hearing the voice, but failed to discern the meaning of the words. The hostility still translated. Meanwhile, I could understand the Kaivan tongue, though I could hardly admit to knowing it. Afterall, why would a human know a beast-tongue. ¡°Perhaps these ones should explain the difference?¡± a female chuckled. Kate and I both turned to address these, as the other group had taken off upon hearing the Kaivan speak to us. I doubted they had gone far, just far enough to avoid any risk of involvement in a fight. And a fight was a true possibility. Both of the Kaiva wore a knives and whips on a belt, wore leather wraps along their feet and hands, wore metallic bracers to guard their wrists, and sported a fluid looking style of chest covering and skirts that seemed to be formed more of tassels than anything solid like a breastplate or jacket. Regardless, it was clear they were capable of delivering violence, should they so choose. This is dangerous, I thought. Because while I had some confidence in my ability to fight, and even more confidence in Kate¡¯s ability, I had little idea how capable the two Kaiva were, or if they had additional forces in reserve. Due to the number of unknowns, and perhaps also my own cowardice and aversion to bloodshed, I hoped to avoid combat. Unfortunately, Kate was not on the same page. She leaned forward a fraction, centering her weight and readying her posture for either a lunge or a sidestep. Her bastard blade partially left its sheath. Her eyes grew a little too wide, and showed a bit much white, almost enough to be considered manic. ¡°Speak our language,¡± Kate demanded, ¡°Or don¡¯t speak at all.¡± The hair along their tails rose up, along with what little fur was visible from their necks. Their pupils flickered, they tensed, and their mouths snarled, showing their fangs. ¡°The child thinks to order these ones?¡± the female asked, still in Kaivan. ¡°This one thinks so, but is a fight worthwhile?¡± ¡°Perhaps yes,¡± the female said. ¡°These ones were insulted. Our pride wounded.¡± ¡°Our wounds can be licked later,¡± the male retorted. ¡°Remember our target, sister.¡± As they conversed, they took a partial step back. Kate, sensing weakness, took a half-step forward, advancing. ¡°Shutup!¡± Kate yelled. ¡°Godslicking criminals loosing their godsloving animals on the streets!¡± She drew her sword and lunged, but as she pressed forward, both Kavia sprung back in the air, twisted, landed on all fours facing the other direction, and sprinted down the street. Kate took one last step before halting, letting loose an angry breath and scowling at their receding shapes. She continued breathing for a moment, calming down. I watched her with consternation, wondering if perhaps she had been the wrong choice for company, for her actions very well put us at risk, and perhaps proved to be quite unnecessary. Enough so, that I thought it warranted to bring up. ¡°Kate?¡± I asked. ¡°That was¡­¡± She shook herself and turned back towards me, sheathing her blade, and forcing a boyish smile upon her face. ¡°Sorry about that,¡± she said. ¡°I really should have attacked earlier.¡± She paused, watching me, and likely mistaking my disagreement with confusion, ¡°...before they ran off.¡± That was not the direction that I thought she would take. ¡°What?¡± I asked. ¡°But¡­ they didn¡¯t really do anything, besides posture and speak¨C¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Kate said, some heat leaking back into her voice. ¡°Did you see any collars? Any identification? Did you miss their weapons and armors? Whoever outfitted them needs to pay. It¡¯s criminal¡­¡± ¡°There are tons of criminals here,¡± I said, venturing a guess. ¡°I have not seen you engage with such¡­ passion for any of them. Why now? Is there something I should know of?¡± I asked. She grimaced for a second, tightened her fist, before releasing much tension. ¡°No¡­ sorry. Just had a bad experience lately. Didn¡¯t mean to take it out on you. We almost there?¡± she asked. I nodded, pointing at a small painted door on the corner of the next tenement building. ¡°Should be there.¡± ¡°There?¡± Kate asked dubiously. ¡°Is that¡­ a corner market? We came all this way, for shitty corner market food?¡± I raised an eyebrow at her, allowed her to understand there was a transgression here which I would not immediately forget, and I stalked forward, towards the door. ¡°While I agree with you on the impracticality,¡± I told her, moving past her and forcing her to quickstep in order to catch up. ¡°I disagree with the tone. We are here, so we may as well conclude our business.¡± ¡°Yes, but¨C¡± Kate started to speak, but I ignored her, reaching the white door with green leaves painted onto it, and pushed it open. From inside the shop, a wave of spices and fragrances washed out, near overwhelming me. From inside, I heard another hiss, characteristic of the Kaiva. ¡°A furless? Here?¡± they spoke with an androgynous voice, a clear Kaivan accent. ¡°This one thinks perhaps not so furless,¡± another voice said, this time missing the characteristic accent, but still in the Kaivan tongue. As my eyes adopted to the lowlight condition, I noticed that the latest speaker was human, a clerk, standing behind a crowded counter. As I found him, I realized there was a certain implication to what he had said, though much room for a misunderstanding remained. To ensure it was all a misunderstanding, and remained as such, I flicked a hand through my long lilac hair and smiled while saying a single sentence in the Kaivan tongue, ¡°No, I am a furless one.¡± ¡°And she speaks!¡± the clerk said. Kate finally entered behind me, swearing when she saw another Kaiva in the store. ¡°You say something, Jackie?¡± Kate asked. ¡°It sounded a bit garbled.¡± ¡°Just saying hello,¡± I informed her, glossing over the fact I had briefly spoken Kaiva. ¡°Huh,¡± Kate said, before her eyes fell upon the Kaiva currently shopping inside. Then, Kate growled, ¡°Another one?!¡± ¡°Of course!¡± the clerk said. ¡°This one¡¯s store caters for its intended audience.¡± The clerk had spoken in the human tongue this time, allowing Kate to follow along, and likely avoiding another incident. The androgynous Kaiva spoke up from within, ¡°What brings humans to this shop? Is this place not meant for the Kaiva?¡± This time, they spoke so that Kate could follow along. ¡°What we¡¯re here for is none of your business, kun.¡± Kate said towards the Kaiva before dismissing her and turning her attention towards the clerk. ¡°We¡¯re obviously here to make a purchase.¡± ¡°Are you?¡± The clerk asked, raising an eyebrow and shifting his gray bangs from out of his eyes. Kate gave a terse nod of affirmation. ¡°Well then,¡± the clerk answered amused. ¡°What have you come to purchase?¡± At this point, Kate dragged me towards the clerk¡¯s counter. However, the Kaiva who had been inside the shop first, protested with a huff. ¡°And this one should wait behind the rude new shoppers?¡± the Kaiva complained. Kate¡¯s eye twitched, but she ignored it. I winced at the Kaiva and mouthed, ¡°apologies,¡± in Kaiva. The Kaiva crossed their arms and chuffed. They appeared a mix of amused and offended, however, after spotting Kate¡¯s ever present weapon, they decided to lean back against a shelf and wait. By that point, Kat had finished dragging me towards the counter with the clerk. He pursed his lips and withheld a snicker as he watched the situation unfold. When Kate finally stopped, he motioned for her to go on. ¡°And what goods can this one provide?¡± the clerk asked. Kaiva opened her mouth, held up a finger, and then paused. She knew the broad strokes of what I needed, but not the particulars. However, instead of simply referring to me, her eyes caught on one of the displays behind the clerk, which held different flavors of dried and cured meats. She pivoted her finger towards the jerky. ¡°That. At least a pound of it. And my friend here has a list.¡± The clerk narrowed his eyes, while the Kaiva gave a surprised chuff before shaking their head. ¡°Is the customer certain?¡± the clerk asked. Noticeable, was that besides a sketch of the flavors and contents, that there were no other labels or descriptors. However, Kate paid that no mind, clearly recognizing the same type of jerky that providence had delivered her previously. ¡°I said it, didn¡¯t I?¡± Kate said in a raised voice. ¡°So the customer did,¡± the clerk nodded, before using tongs to fill a thick paper bag with several chunks of jerky. The spiced aroma carried over and left my mouth watering. He weighed the bag, then put it on the scale. ¡°Is that all for you then?¡± he asked Kate. Kate shrugged and nodded, before turning towards me with a question, ¡°unless you want to combine orders, Jackie?¡± I shook my head quickly. ¡°My order is rather larger than yours, it would be unfair.¡± ¡°Figured,¡± Kate said without surprise. ¡°Then how much is it?¡± she asked the clerk. ¡°Ten Chargers,¡± the clerk said. I raised my eyebrows at that, as the price was rather exorbitant. ¡°Really?¡± Kate asked, already fishing the Chargers out. ¡°Why so much? Can¡¯t imagine that many of the people around here can afford that.¡± ¡°The customer would be surprised, then,¡± the clerk said, before taking Kate¡¯s glowing coins and trading over the bag of jerky. ¡°And for your friend?¡± the clerk then turned his attention towards me. I placed Cook¡¯s written list down before him. The clerk raised his eyebrows and glanced back towards me. From up close, in the dim lighting of the shop, I could see his pupils were slightly elongated vertically, almost reminiscent of a cat. He caught me staring and his lips curled up. ¡°From the honored chef of Ma¡¯Ritz,¡± I nodded slowly, wondering how he knew. He must have seen the question on my face, as he promptly answered. ¡°This one recognized the writing. Too long has passed since this shop has last seen her face. Wait here, as this one assembles the order.¡± He reached beneath the counter and found a gunny sack, which he then began filling with different cuts of meats, fats, and unusually colorful herbs. As he worked, the door to the shop opened once more. Naturally, both Kate and I glanced towards the door as the entrance bell chimed lightly. In walked a tall figure, wrapped from head to toe in a luxurious hooded robe, full of burgundy and gold. From the glimpse of their feet, it was apparent they were beast-borne, with white fur and jeweled claws. Even through the shadows of the hood, I could see enough of their face to determine they were Kaiva, with startling green eyes and lacking any coloration to her fur at all. And that fur appeared sleek and full. There was almost a magnetic pull between the new entrant and my hand, the urge to run my fingers along their skin was so strong. Naturally, I resisted the temptation. But doing so was a struggle. Lucky Break: (6/9) +1 The new entrant looked towards the other Kaiva and spoke first in a confident feminine voice, using their own language. ¡°Did a problem delay my honored companion? Such a wait had not been anticipated.¡± ¡°Apologies,¡± the Kaiva said, bowing deeply at the waist. ¡°This one was delayed by the humans. Their order has taken precedence.¡± ¡°Why is this so?¡± the woman asked, glancing at the clerk. ¡°My companion had arrived first.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t know what your owners let you get off with back home,¡± Kate snorted, ¡°But typically pets go last.¡± The androgynous Kaiva who had been leaning against the wall, who was called the ¡®honored companion,¡¯ stepped away from their perch and took a threatening step towards Kate. ¡°Those words bring much offense,¡± they said, snarling. Kate eyed both Kaiva, but upon failing to see any active weapons, she snorted. ¡°So?¡± I grimaced, discomforted by Kate¡¯s casual disregard towards non-humans. It left me wanting to shy away from her, to put distance between us, lest her toxic views infect me as well. However, to prevent the situation from escalating, I did the opposite. I tugged at Kate¡¯s arm and leaned into her. ¡°Please don¡¯t pick a fight,¡± I whispered in her ear, my breath tickling her ear. ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± Kate said. ¡°They are.¡± The white-furred woman briefly met my eyes, before rolling them. Her eyes were such a startling green, I found myself floundering for a second. In that second, she reached her own companion and hissed in their ear. ¡°As this one was commanded,¡± they said, before bowing out from the shop. ¡°These ones shall return later.¡± ¡°Yes please,¡± the clerk shouted to the door. ¡°Come again soon!¡± He finished as the door shut, both of the Kaiva having departed. ¡°Finally,¡± Kate grunted. ¡°Don¡¯t know why you let them in here unescorted,¡± she told the clerk. The clerk caught my eyes, smirking. It left me a bit paler than normal, wondering just what he knew, and if he could see through my Guise. ¡°Ah, young lady,¡± the clerk answered, ¡°many merchants in my position would be recalcitrant to turn away custom.¡± Kate scoffed but refrained from commenting further, instead watching the clerk work. She pulled out a chunk of jerky from her own purchase, broke off half, and handed it to me. My mouth salivated, and I eagerly tore into it. The clerk merely watched on, amused. Not long after, I had paid with Cook¡¯s Chargers and had received a gunny sack mostly full of meat. It would be deceitful to claim I lacked a certain excitement to be refilling Cook¡¯s pantry, however, however, I had hoped to avoid being obvious about my obligate carnivorous tendencies. With Kate, that ship had somewhat sailed. ¡°You¡¯ve got a spring to your step,¡± Kate said, amused, after we left the slums behind and crossed the Divide. ¡°You would too if you¡¯ve tried some of Cook¡¯s special dishes¡­¡± I responded. ¡°Are you inviting me?¡± Kate asked, ¡°because if you are, that sounds like another date.¡± I may have blushed slightly, but it was feigned. I glanced away. ¡°I¡¯ll have to drop by later then,¡± Kate continued, laughing. ¡°But not today. I¡¯ve actually got to split here in a bit. Aunt Janet wanted me to drop by for something.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± I asked, hoping to get some additional details, hoping that those details were relevant in some way to Emboru. ¡°Yeah¡­ some kinda meeting. Boring stuff, so I basically ignored it. If I could bring you, I might consider it, but even then I wouldn¡¯t wanna subject you to that. Gross stuff. Besides, you¡¯ve got your shift.¡± ¡°That is true¡­¡± I said, consideringly. I could not be too forward in my intelligence gathering, for it would be suspicious. And Kate was correct, I did need to return to Ma¡¯Ritz on Blossom HIll promptly, my shift was about to start. We were currently near the Merc Quarter, near the bottom of the Hill, which was where it turned out Kate¡¯s path split from mine. ¡°See ya tomorrow?¡± Kate asked. I nodded. ¡°Great!¡± There was a moment¡¯s pause, some awkwardness, before she leaned in and grabbed me around the shoulders, pressing her face towards mine with her eyes closed. My first instinct was to recoil backwards, but I refrained, and allowed our lips to meet, though I kept the moment chaste and quick. ¡°Until tomorrow,¡± I said, only slightly breathless. Feigned, of course. ¡°See you then,¡± she grinned, waved, then hopped as she turned and left, bowling over a random passerby and showing no shame for it. I shook my head and left, covering my face from some of the onlookers who had noticed our little scene play out. I quickly reached the entrance to Blossom Hill, where the checkpoint stood, and where the Baron¡¯s men stood guard. As always, I scanned them while I remained in the crowd. Unfortunately, I recognized one of the faces. They were the same that had accosted me during my night shift at Ma¡¯Ritz. I changed course, instead of going through the proper legal checkpoint, I circled around, following the partitioning wall. Naturally, the city had not been planned out all at once, and the encircling neighborhoods had only been divided after the fact. Alleys were walled off, and some homes straddled the line, some even having entrances on both sides of the partition. It was quick work for me to find a walled off alley, and even quicker work for me to scale it. I climbed up the twenty foot stone wall, hoped over, and landed on the other side in a crouch. I landed in a small public park, or greenspace, that consisted of a flower bed, two trees, and a bench. The views offered a decent sight obstruction, and currently it was empty. I stood up, brushed myself off, and headed in for my lunch shift. Already, my mouth was watering at the thought of all the cuts of meat I carried, and all the delicious dishes Cook would prepare. I even wondered if my next breakfast would be special, or if I could request something for dinner, besides the usual lack of anything. As I walked, daydreaming, I almost missed how several eyes followed my progress up the winding main road. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism I (1/9):
    • Climbing I (4/9)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
    • Gymnastics (2/9)
  • Stealth I (7/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (5/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver I (1/9)
    • Evasion I (1/9)
      • Impending Sense (2/9)
    • Lucky Break (6/9) (+1)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (5/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.4.2.1 Absorption 2.4.2.1 I hastened my steps as I approached Ma¡¯Ritz. Without wearing a time-piece, I was forced to rely on the bell towers to confirm the time of day. And while the noon bell had yet to ring, I knew it was coming soon. And I had other concerns besides reaching Ma¡¯Ritz before my shift started. For as I climbed Blossom Hill, I felt the unease of eyes upon the back of my neck. This left me diligent in avoiding anyone that might have been untoward, either from one of the local gangs that I had offended, or the Baron¡¯s men, the ¡®peacekeepers.¡¯ As I passed the Academy, several groups were loitering along the streets and sidewalks. Likely, there had been some sort of event to gather the crowds. I felt a moment¡¯s apprehension, before I realized the opportunity that this presented. If I had been pursued, I could easily lose those pursuers or watchers here. But not only that, as I eyed the crowds and noted their wealth, I realized that another opportunity presented itself. From a pocket, I pulled out a thin and glossy shawl of neutral coloring. I wrapped it around my head, obscuring my hair. Now, if I kept my face down, I would be just another in the crowd. Not a girl with distinctive hair on her way to a distinctive brothel. Next, I selected my path to fall against those that wore gaudy jackets and exterior pouches, I dove into the crowds. After this, I was prepared. It would be a bit awkward with the sack from the ethnic-food store in one hand, but it would work. In fact, it would likely add to my cover. Glancing down at my false-arm, the gelatinous material surrounding three-and-some tendrils, I thought I could do it. I had been working with my reflexes extensively, including my interactions with the false-arm. It mostly listened now, so long as I was not in danger, and so long as I was making some sort of progress towards finding Emboru¡¯s sibling. I had mostly gotten over being disturbed by the seemingly sentient parasite attached to me. Its benefits outweighed the costs, at least so far. I first brushed against a group of middle-aged and middle-classed folks. One of them wore flashy teals and golds. I stumbled against them, the ¡®fingers¡¯ of my false arm stretching and coiling around the man¡¯s purse strings, before the tendrils pinched hard enough to sever the leather. The tendrils surrounded the pouch as I ducked away. ¡°Hey! Watch it!¡± a man shouted as I stumbled away. I ducked my head in apology as I kept moving, pushing my way through another group, and depositing the stolen purse within an inner coat pocket. I bumped against two more targets, although I only managed to snatch another pouch. One of my targets kept their pouch on the inside of their belt. I likely could have overcome the obstacle, but it would have taken more preparation and exposed me to greater risk. In the end, I decided to play it safe and abandon the mark. Stealth I: 8/9 (+1) Besides, two of three was just fine, considering the penalties for losing. Having exited the crowds coming from the Academy, I went another block before dipping down a narrow walkway between buildings. I emptied the pouches of their Chargers and tossed them, before removing my shawl as I walked through and exited to the other side of the walkways. I continued the rest of the way along the sidestreet, arriving at the rear of Ma¡¯Ritz. From there, I went to the heavy metal door in the back, the entrance to the kitchen. Of course, the door locked itself whenever it shut. Just my luck that the door was shut. I knocked on it several times and waited. A minute later, I was still waiting. I knocked again, and as I knocked, the door swung open. ¡°Yeah yeah, I¡¯m com¨C¡± one of the under-cooks, a girl named Anne, said as she opened the door. I pulled back from knocking, nearly striking her face. ¡°-Oh! Jackie,¡± Anne smiled. ¡°What brings you this way?¡± Her eyes roved up and down, lingering a second on my bulging pouch, before lingering a moment on the satchel containing Cook¡¯s order. ¡°-That for me?¡± she finished asking. I scoffed and brushed past her. ¡°No,¡± I answered at the same time, ¡°it¡¯s for Cook.¡± ¡°So basically for me,¡± she said, quickly following after me. I rolled my eyes and kept moving through the pantry towards where Cook likely was working in the kitchen proper. ¡°No, it¡¯s for Cook.¡± ¡°C¡¯mon,¡± Anne wheedeled. ¡°I¡¯ll hand it to her, just¨C¡± she tried reaching for the satchel, which I deftly maneuvered away from her. She was left swiping empty air. I picked up my pace, leaving Anne behind with her complaints and her mouth hanging open. ¡°-hey! Come back!¡± she protested from behind. I ignored her and stepped into the hot and pungent kitchen. Cook glanced up from where she leaned against a wall, watching a pot simmer. ¡°Jackie,¡± Cook said, her eyes quickly scanning both myself and Anne, flicking back and forth in the sort of way only a cat could. ¡°Is my favor repaid?¡± she asked, obviously noticing the sack. I nodded and held out the bag for her to take. Anne lingered behind me scowling, but otherwise remaining silent. Cook strode over and took the bag, opening it and peering in. She inhaled deeply and sighed, almost purred, in pleasure. ¡°This one is pleased.¡± For a moment, I thought of asking about the fact that her favored supplier was on the other side of town, in the worst part of the slums. But trusting that Cook knew what she was about, I held my peace. However, as Cook took the bag and stowed it in the ice-box, she asked me, ¡°Did any issues occur? The area is unsafe at the best of times, even during daylight.¡± I nodded, ¡°A few. I brought Sir Kate with me, and we encountered a few interesting characters.¡± ¡°Any of note?¡± Cook asked, turning her full gaze upon me, her ears perked up and twitching. ¡°A few¡­¡± I said, trailing off and remembering the child that Kate had handled. I shuddered and decided to avoid mentioning, or even thinking of, that event. Instead, I said, ¡°Plenty of Kaiva though.¡± ¡°As would be expected¡­¡± ¡°Several with rounded ears¨C¡± Cook hissed, ¡°-not Kaiva.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I said, nodding. ¡°That¡¯s about what the Kaiva that were there said when I asked about them. They were upset enough that I thought we were going to have to fight them.¡± ¡°Fight a kunbeorn? In the city?¡± Cook asked, intrigued. ¡°I¡¯m not sure they were kunbeorn,¡± I said. Kunbeorn was the human term for tamed and trained Kaiva, a rather insulting term used to describe domestic slavery. It was surprising that Cook had been the one to use it, considering the term could be applied to her as well. ¡°Why?¡± Cook asked, a little more intensely than previous. I edged a step away from her. ¡°They were missing collars,¡± I said a bit more quietly, suddenly feeling very awkward with the conversation. ¡°Like me, then?¡± Cook asked. For she also wore no collar. However, I had never learned the details of her exact situation. I merely shrugged. ¡°Of course, the kit would not know.¡± Cook shook her head. ¡°Any other encounters? How did the kit find the shop itself?¡± ¡°It was amazing,¡± I said truthfully. ¡°The smells¡­¡± I trailed off, remembering the mouth-watering aroma, the jerky Kate had purchased and shared, the way the flavors burst on my tongue, and the way the sustenance had energized me, in such a way that meohr-meat could not achieve. Cook smirked, her sharp teeth poking through her fur covered lips. Her whiskers twitched in amusement. ¡°Of course,¡± she said. ¡°There was one more person in the store though, well, two actually. Kate almost picked a fight with one. The second one saved the day. Apparently the belligerent was the servant of the white-furred one.¡± Cook¡¯s tail froze. ¡°A servant? Describe the white-furred one. Male?¡± ¡°No, definitely not,¡± I said, remembering the regal air she carried herself with, the snow white fur. ¡°She had bright green eyes and very sleek white fur. She also wore very rich clothing, surprising for that side of town.¡± ¡°Interesting¡­¡± Cook muttered to herself. ¡°Was any name given?¡± I shook my head. I would have been interested in learning more about that particular Kaiva as well. ¡°The kit performed well,¡± Cook finally said, though seemingly still half distracted. ¡°Let this one prepare a fitting meal as reward.¡± I grinned in appreciation. Even if running to the store was me repaying a favor to Cook, that did not mean I would not also profit from the task. ¡°We¡¯ll have to be fast, though,¡± I said. ¡°My shift starts soon.¡± ¡°Bah,¡± Cook said, waving her hand. ¡°The girl can cover the first part. Come. Relax. There is a quick spiced curry that this one has been craving. Watch as our midday meal is prepared.¡± As she began filling a pot with ingredients, she pulled diced heart-meat from the ice-box. Already, my mouth was watering. In the background, I saw Anne making gagging motions and leaving, likely to slack-off in the back. *** Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism I (1/9):
    • Climbing I (4/9)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
    • Gymnastics (2/9)
  • Stealth I (8/9) (+1)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (5/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver I (1/9)
    • Evasion I (1/9)
      • Impending Sense (2/9)
    • Lucky Break (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (5/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
*** At first, I thought the day had been going well. I had sparred with Kate, performing well enough to impress her. I had run an errand for Cook, ensuring my continued supply of one of the only types of food I could stomach on this mothersworn world. And finally, I had been rewarded with a phenomenal meal, a rich and meaty curry. Besides the hiccups that occurred while running the errand itself, the day had been going well. And then my lunch-shift started. But even then, things had not turned sour until several hours in. During my shift, Marianne and I split the floor as usual, with myself focusing more on the tables, and Marianne the tavern bar. I would take the orders, Marianne would mix and deliver the drinks, and the system worked. Until there entered a group of rough looking characters, who did not seem to belong in Ma¡¯Ritz, let alone on Blossom Hill. In this group there were three men with scruffy beards and patched clothes. They stank of grease, their fingernails harbored filth, and their beady little eyes bore such contempt that I knew this would be a difficult table. Naturally, I attempted to avoid the table, sensing something amiss. I offered Marianne the opportunity to serve them instead. Marianne took one glance at the table, then me, and shook her head. ¡°Sorry Jackie,¡± she said. ¡°This one¡¯s on you. My hands are full enough as is.¡± With my plans of deflecting my unpleasant duties onto Marianne foiled, I approached the table of three ruffians. One of them gestured towards me as I approached. The most boisterous among them, whom I considered their de facto leader, turned towards me with a sneer. ¡°Bout time somebody serves us,¡± he said. The complaint caught me off guard, causing me to almost miss a step. My reflexes kicked in, allowing me to smoothly recover. From the outside, I doubted anyone would have detected the near fumble. ¡°I beg your pardon?¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯ve only just sat down though.¡± ¡°Course we get the girl with lip. Just our luck,¡± he said. One of his friends scoffed, and the other gave a mean grin. My eyes flicked over their arms and clothes, looking for any obvious gang signs or colors. However, none were present. This did not mean that they were not members of some gang, but typically the Pit Crews were fairly proud of their affiliations. I bit back a groan, and decided that my best course of action would be to remain professional. ¡°May I take your orders? Anything to drink?¡± I asked. ¡°Sure. Couple of ales. And make it quick! The boys¡¯re thirsty.¡± Two of them cheered at the mention of the ¡®boys.¡¯ The testosterone was stifling. ¡°Certainly,¡± I said, as I hastened away to place their order. When I returned to the server¡¯s station, I met Marianne there. ¡°Rough table?¡± Marianne asked, concern writ across her face. I nodded, ¡°Yeah. I think they came in with a grudge against me. That or they¡¯re naturally antagonistic.¡± Marianne made a furtive glance towards them as she poured their pale ales. ¡°I think it might be against you,¡± she said. ¡°I noticed them stealing glances at you as you walked away¡­¡± she bit her lip, pausing a moment. ¡°Want me to take over?¡± This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Are you certain?¡± I asked, appreciative of the offer. Despite my initial attempt to foist off my duties upon her, I actually had no desire to see her placed into a compromising position. Marianne gave a slight smile, the edge of her lips curling up in an endearing fashion. ¡°You know I handle difficult customers better,¡± she said. I scoffed playfully, falling into something of our routine. ¡°Maybe better at appeasing them, but not kicking them to the curb.¡± She winked as she finished setting the ales on a platter and carried them over to the table. I watched as closely as I could without making my observations obvious; my goal being to ensure the hand-off from myself to Marianne went well. But after Marianne set the drinks down and began to ask for their meal orders, their leader held up his hand to forestall Marianne, cutting her off mid-sentence. ¡°Nah. Bring the other girl back. Unless she¡¯s slackin¡¯ off. I see her over there, doin¡¯ nothin.¡± He nodded towards me. It was too late for me to look away, so I chose to address this issue head on, and I approached the table and Marianne. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry!¡± Marianne said. ¡°But Jackie has a bit of a rap. You know her main job here is actually security at night! She just helps me out during the day¨C¡± Marianne continued speaking, making excuses to cover the hand over, all the while wringing her hands. ¡°It¡¯s fine, Marianne,¡± I said, cutting off the flurry of anxious words she was delivering. ¡°If these men are willing to go so far as to request my aid, personally, then there is not much else for it.¡± Marianne winced, as though pained, apologized to both myself and the table once more, before ducking away, fleeing back towards the safety of the bar. As soon as she left, I turned my full attention back onto the men. I suspected that this entire situation was contrived, though making an accusation would do my position no good. Instead, I played along with them. ¡°What can I bring for you, then?¡± I asked them. One of them sneered. ¡°The special,¡± their leader said. ¡°Chop. Chop.¡± The third one said in a demeaning fashion, adding a clap to each word. ¡°The same for all three of you?¡± I asked. ¡°Course,¡± the leader said. Either these men had ill intentions for after their meal, or they somehow planned to leverage the meal against me in some fashion. When they had requested my service specifically, it made it obvious that they had entered the tavern with a target in mind. But, what move did they have in mind? This was what I was unsure of. ¡°Would you like me to inform you of what the special is today?¡± I asked, hoping to gain further insight as to their intentions. ¡°Gods, woman!¡± their leader said. ¡°Just bring us our food! We¡¯re starvin!¡± I gave a slight incline of my head. ¡°Very well,¡± I said. I took several steps back before turning, ensuring my back was never vulnerable to these knaves. Some minutes later, Marianne and I managed to reconvene at the server¡¯s station. ¡°Jackie,¡± Marianne said. ¡°I don¡¯t like the look of that table.¡± I gave an uncharacteristic snort. ¡°What gave them away?¡± I asked her. ¡°What do you mean?¡± she asked. I just shook my head, keeping my suspicions to myself. At the same time, I felt both amused and wary. Truly, Marianne was a gem. I would need to take care that whatever plots these men were part of never touched her. Soon, their order was up. I placed them carefully on the holding tray. The special that day was vegetable based, with steamed grains. There was a sauce as well. Altogether, it stank. Truly, the people of this country had horrid taste. Even the lichen and snails of the desolate and bleary wastes tasted better than the foul concoctions that these people oft enjoyed. And it was these concoctions that I carried to the table of misfits and roustabouts. ¡°Here she comes,¡± one of the men said in a low and hushed voice. As I came in to set the tray down, the leader twisted, his elbow flying out in what was an obviously staged accident, aimed at the tray. My instincts kicked in. Even before he started to move, I was pivoting and raising the platter up above my head. Eschiver I (2/9) (+1) ¡°Oops¨C?¡± the man started to speak, a malicious tone that trailed off in confusion. ¡°Apology accepted,¡± I said dryly, then leaning down and setting the platters on the table. ¡°Perhaps be more careful in the future?¡± I said, bordering on the border of allowed passive-aggressive behaviors. ¡°I would hate to see a customer come to harm¡­¡± He scoffed. ¡°And what¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± he asked. He quickly regained his bearings, and then glanced down at the plates, sneering especially hard. ¡°What¡¯s this shit?¡± ¡°The special,¡± I answered. ¡°Nah. That¡¯s not what we ordered. Ain¡¯t that right?¡± he asked his friends. I rolled my eyes. As if they could practice subtly at all with their machinations. ¡°Take it back,¡± he demanded. ¡°And what should I tell the kitchen?¡± I asked, with as neutral of a voice as I could manage. ¡°Not my problem,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m not the one that messed up.¡± I had a few other questions I might have asked, but I decided that doing so would hardly provide any necessary information, and would only exacerbate the situation, prolonging my own suffering by these ruffians and their presence. ¡°Very well,¡± I said, piling the plates once more upon the tray, before heading back to the kitchens. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Marianne asked, glancing at the platter. ¡°Did they not want the special?¡± ¡°I guess not,¡± I said. ¡°Though they gave no reason.¡± ¡°That¡­ that makes no sense!¡± she exclaimed, her expression slightly flustered. ¡°What¨C¡± ¡°Marianne,¡± I said. ¡°Relax. They¡¯re after me, not you.¡± ¡°But¡­ why?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll have to wait and see,¡± I said. ¡°Should I go back and take their order again?¡± I asked. ¡°Maybe?¡± Marianne asked, somewhat distracted as she watched the entryway. The door to the restaurant had just opened. I followed her eyes and saw that Tiffany had just entered. I licked my lips, half smiling as I finally realized the game. Tiffany looked about the floor, before sighting and then honing in on the ruffians. Marianne must have put two and two together as well, as she gasped. ¡°No! She wouldn¡¯t!¡± ¡°It looks like she is, though,¡± I said, eavesdropping as the men began loudly complaining about their server and the horrible experience thus far. Tiffany apologized loudly and profusely, and then left towards Ma¡¯s office, with the leader of the ruffians in tow. ¡°Why do you think she¡¯s after me?¡± I mused, glancing at Marianne. ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± she said. ¡°But we need to get to Ma and explain our side of the story first!¡± I scoffed. ¡°I¡¯m confident that we cannot beat them there, and causing a scene in front of Ma will do us no favors. Besides¡­ one of us needs to watch the floor. Not both of us can leave.¡± ¡°But¡­ but what will you do?¡± Marianne asked, her voice somewhat smaller. Seeing this, I put a comforting hand on Marianne¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Wait a few minutes, and then go and defend myself,¡± I answered. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism I (1/9):
    • Climbing I (4/9)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
    • Gymnastics (2/9)
  • Stealth I (8/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (5/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver I (2/9) (+1)
    • Evasion I (1/9)
      • Impending Sense (2/9)
    • Lucky Break (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (5/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
*** ¡°Good luck!¡± Marianne wished in a hushed voice as I headed towards the back hallway of the tavern, the hallway that connected the two halves of the business, and that held the doorway to Ma¡¯s office. I turned my head and grinned at her. She had no reason to feel concern. For the men had targeted me, and for some reason Tiffany had joined them in their plots. I reached the hallway and leaned against the wall outside Ma¡¯s office. I heard voices in there, including one of the men that had complained so vigorously about the quality of my service. I decided to wait there until the door opened. With the surveillance system that Ma had, she would undoubtedly already know I was there. As I waited, I reviewed what I knew of the men, and of why Tiffany might have joined in on their idiotic plot to defame me. While I could not be certain, I thought the men might have originated from the slums. There were several groups of enemies that I had made from that side of the town, most notably the Garnets, one of the Pit Crews. The men could have also been put up to this by the baron¡¯s men. The Peacekeepers. This city¡¯s equivalent of the most corrupt police force. But what leverage did either of those groups have over Tiffany? Perhaps I was overthinking it. It could have been as simple as a bribe. Or conversely, a threat. Soon, the door opened, and the man walked out, with Tiffany following. ¡°Wait a moment, Tiffany,¡± Ma¡¯s voice sounded from inside, causing Tiffany to pause in her exit. The man himself missed a step when he saw me leaning against the wall, though he recovered admirably. ¡°Expect you¡¯ll be outta here soon,¡± he sneered. ¡°Then we¡¯ll see ¡®bout accounting those differences.¡± I nodded my head, as though in thought. ¡°Garnets, then?¡± I asked him. He seemed taken aback, then shook his head. ¡°Be seein you,¡± was all he said as he went far out of his way to shoulder bump me as he left. Even then, I still easily deflected him, sending him stumbling into the wall. ¡°Bitch,¡± he swore under a low voice, stomping off. I shook my head as he left, resisting the urge to grin with defiance. It would not do for Ma to mistake my expression for pleased. For, while the men and their ploy had been obvious to me, and while I suspected that was also true for Ma, the situation still required me to play the aggrieved party. Ma¡¯s voice called from within the office. ¡°Enter,¡± she said. Tiffany glared at me before sending a concerned glance towards Ma as I entered. Ma, sitting behind her desk, gave a weary sigh and almost seemed to deflate. Against the wall, there were plenty of surveillance windows, where tubes of mirrors terminated in an array to provide a dim view of the floors, hallways, and even some of the rooms. ¡°Shut the door behind you,¡± Ma said. She was watching the window of the tavern floor, where the man had just entered from the back entrance, before returning to his friends at their table. He nodded to them, said something. One of the others laughed, and then all three of them got up to leave. ¡°Did they pay their tab, Jackie?¡± Ma asked me. I shook my head. ¡°Not unless Marianne collected it while I was waiting.¡± ¡°Hm. Doubtful.¡± ¡°With all due respect, Madame,¡± Tiffany began. ¡°But should they have to pay after the offense that the new-girl gave?¡± I opened my mouth to protest, as the men had most certainly drank their ales, and despite sending the food back, they had ordered it, and the food had met expectations. But, the fools paying their tab was not really what this was all about, and I suspected Ma knew that. Because when I began to protest, Ma arched an eyebrow towards me, causing the words to die before they had left my throat. My mouth snapped shut. ¡°Tiffany,¡± Ma said, her tone unamused. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Pardon, Madame?¡± Tiffany said, taken aback. ¡°Why did you send those louts in?¡± she asked. ¡°I am unsure as to what¨C¡± ¡°Tiff,¡± Ma said flatly. ¡°If you¡¯re going to play at subterfuge, you ought to get more practice. But what I really need to know right now, is why. Why do you want Jackie to be excised from our business?¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± Tiffany said, before clearing her throat. ¡°She¡¯s trouble.¡± I gave Tiffany a considering look. Ma signaled with her hand for Tiffany to continue. ¡°She¡¯s a killer. She¡¯s drawing undue negative attention down on us, and it¡¯s putting the rest of us at risk.¡± ¡°This is about the incident some weeks back?¡± Ma said, as though refreshing her memory. ¡°Where several thugs mugged and likely planned to kill a patron?¡± Tiffany winced, ¡°They weren¡¯t just ordinary thugs.¡± ¡°Ah.¡± Ma nodded. ¡°You¡¯re ties to the slums then?¡± Tiffany deflated, ¡°They threatened me. And they threatened the establishment. Is she really worth keeping around with all the danger?¡± ¡°If only the Peacekeepers did their job,¡± Ma shook her head. ¡°Or if the lower knights were welcomed on Blossom Hill¡­¡± It had confused me at first, but I had figured out the three main law enforcement agencies in the city. There were the peacekeepers, which were the corrupt guards hired by the baron to collect ¡®taxes.¡¯ Then, there were the lower knights, which Kate¡¯s aunt was a member of. They were responsible for domestic enforcement, but the peacekeepers prohibited them from Blossom Hill, which left the lower knights in the mercantile districts. And finally, there were the high knights, which were a glorified highway patrol. Their primary duty was to monitor traffic entering and leaving across the bridge. Which made them almost border-guards. In this instance, Ma was complaining about the baron¡¯s men, as they had permitted the thugs to operate against Ma¡¯Ritz. ¡°And then we have the girl flaunting around in everyone¡¯s faces,¡± Tiffany said, complaining once more. ¡°It¡¯s unbecoming. We aren¡¯t supposed to be fighters. That¡¯s not what the rest of us should be associated with.¡± Ma tapped her chin. ¡°You¡¯ve made your case Tiffany,¡± Ma said. This caused me some concern, as it appeared that Ma was actually considering what Tiffany had said. This caused me to second guess myself and wonder if perhaps I had misread the situation. Ma turned towards me. ¡°What about you?¡± she asked. ¡°Me?¡± I answered with a question, unsure of what she was after. ¡°You start at the Academy next week, yes?¡± My eyebrows lifted slightly. I had not realized that the term began so soon. Ma continued, ¡°You¡¯ll hardly be able to keep working the equivalent of two jobs during this time¡­ And it seems that most of our problems are stemming from the tavern floor.¡± Tiffany protested, ¡°We can¡¯t seriously be paying for the girl to attend schooling! That¡¯s obscene!¡± ¡°Esmerelda is, not us. Have you not noticed the extra clients Esmerelda has been taking? The sheer volume is impressive.¡± Tiffany crossed her arms and frowned. ¡°I¡­ have not, no.¡± ¡°And Jackie has performed admirably at securing the premise after hours,¡± Ma said. ¡°There have been several break-ins in the area, and apparently the riff-raff from the lower city have been infiltrating the Hill. If we had to focus her efforts in one area¡­¡± Ma paused thoughtfully, as though playing something through her head. Finally, she gave a nod. ¡°Here¡¯s what we¡¯ll do¡­¡± ¡°Jackie, you¡¯re off of tavern duties. From henceforth, you¡¯ll only perform security, which I expect you¡¯ll still cover the first shift of, even after you begin attending the Academy. But until then, you¡¯ll cover the entire night. At least until I can find another guard, as apparently the Peacekeepers are worthless.¡± ¡°But what about the tavern floor?¡± Tiffany asked. ¡°Marianne was struggling by herself, especially when it¡¯s busy.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll have to find another girl to help then,¡± Ma said. ¡°But until then, since you¡¯re so concerned Tiffany, and since you pulled this stunt, I want you working the tavern before your own night-work.¡± ¡°But¡­ I need that time to prepare for my clients!¡± Tiffany protested. ¡°And¡­ And I¡¯ll be all greasy from the shift! I don¡¯t want to smell like food, and the clients won¡¯t like it either¡­¡± Ma snorted. ¡°It¡¯s a temporary solution,¡± Ma said. ¡°And if you¡¯re worried about how you smell, then use perfume. Now, anything else? Any other protests? Or sour customers to hear out?¡± I shook my head while Tiffany scowled. ¡°Good. Jackie, head upstairs and take a nap. You look like shit. Tiffany will cover the rest of your evening shift.¡± Soon, both Tiffany and I left Ma¡¯s office. Tiffany muttered under her breath, but I could not quite hear what she said. She left for the floor, and I wondered just how Marianne would take it. I hoped that the girl would not be too upset with my reassignment. Once I got upstairs to the living quarter, I decided to take a much needed respite. I bathed, cleaned myself, and laid back upon my thin mattress. Before I drifted off in my nap, I wondered at just where I would begin my search for Emboru¡¯s kin, and just what I was biting off with the Academy. And then, on top of that, there was Sir Kate, a ridiculous title for a ridiculous girl who did ridiculous things¡­ but who also caused my heart to race and my cheeks to warm. But, I could not also forget that somewhere in the city was Princess Marissa, who had apparently taken some sort of interest in my new identity. And of course, the mothersworn gangs that were holding a grudge against me. I supposed it was a good thing I had learned to fight. It seemed like a skill I would need sooner rather than later. With all of my concerns, I hardly rested at all. Soon, evening came, lanterns lit, and my night-shift began. I had to wonder if the Garnets would make a move soon. And if not, what could I gain from my surroundings? Afterall, Ma¡¯Ritz was surrounded by the wealthy. And I was certain there would be some items of note in the businesses, if not the manors. That night found me perched on top of the roof of Ma¡¯Ritz, wondering just where I should start. It was as I was lurking, plotting, and perhaps, sulking, that I spied upon a cloaked figure hidden in the shadows of a nearby wall. They were watching the back entrance of Ma¡¯Ritz. From where I watched, three stories above, and from across the street, all I could make out was their figure, their pale skin, and their bright green eyes. I decided to head down and introduce myself. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism I (1/9):
    • Climbing I (4/9)
      • Featherlight I (3/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
    • Gymnastics (2/9)
  • Stealth I (8/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (5/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver I (2/9)
    • Evasion I (1/9)
      • Impending Sense (2/9)
    • Lucky Break (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (5/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.4.2.2 When I spotted the lurking watcher, the potential burglar, it would have been smarter to ignore her. She was only in the vicinity of Ma¡¯Ritz, hardly breaking and entering, and a confrontation could escalate quickly. But after a night of practicing and grinding away at bettering myself, it was simply put that I was bored. Of course, I could have wrapped my poorly thought out decision in all manner of reasoning, but I was curious, and the lurker was just across the street, in the shadow of a building, watching the neighbors. So without overthinking it, I sprung from my perch, from the balustrade atop the roof of Ma¡¯Ritz. The maneuver carried little risk to me, despite the fact that I was over three stories up and the fact that paved stones made up the sidewalk below. Afterall, due to Athleticism, and several sigils under Climbing, I had nothing to fear from heights. My weight was almost avian, and I had the proprioception and agility to of a preternatural gymnasts. Of course, even for me, a drop from this height would have been painful. So, as I leapt from the balustrade, I somersaulted through the air until my feet faced the wall, and then I kicked out while activating my ability to climb any surface. The soles of my boots instantly stuck to the wood and brick ornamental wall. But of course, even with my feet sticking to the wall, I carried enough downward momentum that I could not instantly stop. And even if I could instantly stop, I lacked the strength to hold myself parallel to the ground, supported by my feet alone. But that was fine. I had no intention of stopping. I began running down the wall, my feet lightly slapping the bricks as I dropped in an almost controlled descent. It was still an unstoppable sprint, headed towards the sidewalk below. If the wall had been a sheer front, then my footwork would have been simple, one foot before another. But the building was greatly ornamented with sills and shutters and carvings. As I ran downwards, I found myself picking my steps lightly, carried by gravity faster and faster, while I wove my footwork around the obstacles, only ever nearly missing these tripping hazards. I found myself grinning from the exhilaration. My false arm tensed in protest, putting a slight strain on my ribs and spine. Even if I were to misstep and plunge face-first towards the ground, I trusted the false-arm to save me. It was selfish like that. The roots of its tendrils which wrapped my clavicle tightened, as though in protest. I ignored its non-sapient complaints. I was less than fifteen feet from the sidewalk, and I quickly approached a decorative sill which wrapped the entire first floor of the building. By this point, the girl across the street had seen me. Granted, I would have been only a shadow descending from on high, and descending rapidly at that. However, it was enough. First impressions mattered. When I was ten feet from the bottom, just at the edge of the knee-high tripping hazard, I kicked off once more, spinning through the air to bleed momentum. I reoriented to land feet first, in a crouch. But as my feet hit the ground, the downward force was too much, forcing me almost to my knees. I salvaged the landing with a roll across the filthy ground, which I had not been planning. Embarrassing, I thought. I could practically feel the girl¡¯s eyes upon me. To hide my shame, I acted as though the roll had been intentional, and I sprung back to my feet, making a show of wiping the dust off as I started walking across the street towards the girl. However, she did not react as I thought she would. In hindsight, it made sense. Were I to be casing a target, and were I to see a supernatural feat of strength and agility from the person guarding the area, I likely would have been concerned as well. But my intentions had hardly been malicious. When I stood up from my roll, I saw her tense. I could see it in her posture, the slight bent to her knees, the way her heels slightly lifted up. When I saw this, I paused, and made a very slow wave. She regarded me for a bit, I could see her bright green eyes beneath her hood, along with her pale red skin. She frowned. My brows furrowed. Her frown slowly developed into a smirk. She placed a hand on a hip and straightened out some, enough to pop a hip out in what might have been a seductive pose were it not for her baggy clothes. ¡°Pull that stunt often?¡± the girl asked. ¡°Cuz I thought you would go splat there for a hot second.¡± As did I, I thought without saying. Though I remained silent, her lips curled up in a grin. Seeing this, I hurried to defend myself, ¡°Often enough. The fall was planned,¡± I said. Already, I was wondering how to best introduce myself, and how best to learn her identity. But before I could commit, she continued chatting away, hardly giving me much space at all to speak. ¡°Was it now?¡± she asked, a playful tone. ¡°But why go through all that trouble? Even if you planned it all out, that maneuver must have been riskier than what a night guard would normally risk¡­¡± I was taken aback, slightly. Was she implying something? It almost seemed so, with the way she stressed some words, and with the point she made. But what was she getting at? Was it just idle chatter, or perhaps something more sinister? Could she be with the Garnets? With sudden doubts flooding through me, I had a sudden urge to flee. But I hated the idea of showing weakness. And I had yet to detect any trap waiting to spring shut. It was worrying and curious all the same time. Meanwhile, her smug smile grew wider, but never genuine. ¡°Don¡¯t mind lil ole me,¡± she said, a far too light voice, a far to knowing tone. ¡°I was just curious as to what brought you down so suddenly¡­ I doubt it was to simply say hello to this one.¡± My ears perked up at that. Was she with the Kaiva then? Or did she know I was familiar with them? I shook my head, admitting the possibility that she was fishing. ¡°Oh, you did come to greet me?¡± she said, with a hint of mockery to her voice. ¡°I¡¯m flattered.¡± I decided the best path forward would be to regain the initiative in the conversation. So rather than respond to her chattering, I bluntly asked, ¡°Who are you?¡± Her smiling lips parted to allow a delicate tongue to dart out, as though she were a snake tasting her own amusement. ¡°Not as well mannered as I had hoped,¡± she teased. She was mocking me. While a lack of respect may have been tolerable, were I to allow this to continue then I would lose credibility. It would mean an observer might feel at ease attacking me. I could not afford to appear weak, not at this junction. Thus, I narrowed my eyes and began resuming my steps towards her. My false-arm twitched on its own accord, giving me a sense of security. Even if the girl was hostile¨Ceven if she had an ambush prepared somehow¨CI had skills, and my false-arm could kill. Easily. Likely messily. Honestly, the thought of its violent tendencies left me cringing just slightly. But with my resumed approach, the girl perhaps realized the disparity in power, or perhaps she simply wished to avoid conflict. She began stepping back. ¡°Hey now,¡± she said. ¡°What¡¯s with that look in your eye? I¡¯m not sure I appreciate it¡­¡± I continued stepping forward, she continued stepping back. Rather than repeating a question, I continued glaring at her. My false-arm twitched, the tendrils under the gelatinous material likely hungry for sustenance. As the girl irritated me greatly, I found no great dissatisfaction in humoring the fantasy of garroting her thin little neck. It appeared the radiating hostility was felt; that my silence left the girl feeling unease. ¡°Alright, gods and spirits!It¡¯s just talk!¡± She whisper shouted. ¡°No reason to get all offended like this¡­ Learn to trade barbs a bit. Ugh,¡± she groaned, ¡°So serious,¡± she complained. ¡°I fail to find myself in the mood to humor barbs,¡± I said. ¡°But I asked a question earlier: Who are you. Additionally, why are you observing the neighborhood?¡± She coughed, ¡°Well¡­ you know¡­¡± she continued backstepping, retreating down a sidestreet away from me. ¡°...I was just out for a late night stroll¡­¡± ¡°Unlikely,¡± I said. ¡°But so long as you¡¯re avoiding Ma¡¯Ritz, I am not overwhelmingly concerned by your actions. Merely curious.¡± ¡°Really?¡± she asked sarcastically. ¡°Because you aren¡¯t acting unconcerned right now. This isn¡¯t some curiosity that I¡¯m sensing here. Just throwing it out there¡­¡± My steps faltered. Why was I radiating such hostility? It had not been my intent to pick a fight. While her words and attitude may have bothered me, there had hardly been any incentive to aggress. After letting out a deep breath, and after firmly halting my approach, I attempted to explain myself. ¡°I came down for introductions,¡± I said. ¡°My apologies if I seemed more antagonistic than I planned.¡± Her pupils almost seemed to quiver as they quickly examined me, though they almost seemed to linger on my false-arm; she gave a forced smile. ¡°...Riiight,¡± she said. ¡°Well, in that case, name¡¯s Belobog. You?¡± ¡°Jackie,¡± I said. ¡°Since I saw you down here, I was wondering if you were running with a crew?¡± ¡°Ah¡­¡± she gave a waggle with her hand. ¡°Not that I should really talk about, you know? More of a solo operator, yeah? But tell you what¨C¡± she paused, once again watching my false-arm. I felt several of its tendons coil and compress about my nerves ¡°-Jackie, right? Yeah, I¡¯ll be keeping an eye on you¨C¡± ¡°-I would rather you did not¨C¡± I spoke over the top of her. ¡°-and, I¡¯m not saying I¡¯m with a crew, but if a spot opens up for a stealth-focused acrobat, then I¡¯ll let you know, kay?¡± she finished. ¡°It has been a while since someone had last attempted to recruit¨C¡± I began, before I felt a sudden sharp pain to my temples, reminiscent of a sudden migraine. By instinct, I hunched and clapped my hands to the side of my head, hoping to alleviate the pressure, and fighting the sudden urge to vomit. ¡°See ya around, Jackie!¡± the girl, Belobog said, almost sang, though her voice suddenly booming in my ears, even though she was traveling away rapidly, with her footsteps receding down the hill. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Once I could no longer hear her, the headache vanished, leaving little wonder at the perpetrator of the attack, if not the mechanism. But it might not have been her, and it could have been somebody else nearby. So, as soon as the blinding pain left, I jumped to the left and rolled, before freezing in a low crouch, ready to spring in any direction. I paused, waited, listening and scanning my surroundings for any sign of what had just attacked me. Gymnastics: 3/9 (+1) But thinking back to the headache, nothing had struck me, and even if someone had unleashed some sort of airborne toxin, I should have had some immunity to it. Which meant it must have been some sort of spiritual attack, a spell, or a strange talent perhaps. Regardless, I could not verify the vector that my sudden migraine had been introduced by. I was certain that the girl, Belobog, had been somehow responsible. But why? Was it just a distraction, or had there been something more? Once it became clear that no further attack was coming, I climbed the side of Ma¡¯Ritz, quickly resuming my perch on the side of the balustrade. Regarding Belobog, I had much to consider. Without confirmation, I could only suspect that she had performed some nature of mental attack against me. This, however, jarred against the persona she had been displaying, the casual, almost friendly tone of her voice. And she had been fishing for information, I was nearly certain. Why else would she spread so many potential triggering terms throughout her little chat. She reminded me of the false psychics that peddled their wares. But why had she gone through the effort? Was it by habit? Or was it by intention? I thought back to when I had first spotted Belobog casing the neihbhorhood. She had been clearly watching the adjacent building to Ma¡¯Ritz, of that I had been nearly certain at the time. But looking at her alleged target, I found myself wondering what she could have found of interest there. The building had an apothecary at street level, where high end every-day items were sold, targeting those commuting nearby. While they certainly had some valuables to rob, they hardly had anything unique, rare, or incredibly worthwhile, and I doubted that they kept a stash of Chargers hidden on premise. Then, there were the businesses atop the apothecary. The best way to describe them would be a shared office building; it contained a variety of ¡®white-collar¡¯ workplaces, where lawyers, accountants, and scribes held court. If I were to find anything of interest, it would be there, and it could potentially be extortionable intelligence. But that was only a ¡®maybe.¡¯ If the building I had thought Belobog was watching held nothing of interest, then I had to revisit the assumption that she had been watching the building at all. Which meant she had been in the vicinity, only appearing to watch it, for some other purpose. She had stuck around until after I visited. It would be narcissistic and egotistical to assume she had merely been seeking intelligence upon me. Perhaps she wanted to make herself known to me? Was the mental attack a threat then? In the end, I had too many questions, not enough information. I decided to shelve it and practice weaving with my battle ribbon. *** Featherlight I (4/9) (+1) I lost track of time while practicing, and soon the early hours of dawn had arrived. While I had been practicing grace: laying and sending out the ribbon with artful flair, I felt a familiar itch upon my arm. At first, I had thought that I had finally gained a pertinent Talent for, perhaps, combat. However, the itch was not nearly as powerful as that. For when glyphs embedded themselves in flesh, it tended more towards a searing pain than a mere itching. It surprised me, when I checked which sigil had advanced. It had been Featherlight. In a way, it made sense, for I had been light upon my feet¡­ but I still thought that my sigil for Gymnastics would have held more relevance to my practice. Regardless, I would take the advancement to my sigils. Not that I had a choice in the matter. After progressing in Featherlight, I gave a few experimental bounces on the soles of my feet. Using the momentum from transferring my weight from heel to toe, I could send myself several inches into the air in a short hop. Prior, I could only just barely gain clearance off the ground. I took this as evidence that either I was lighter or my feet stronger. Given the sigil, I assumed that I was now lighter. Naturally, this led to additional tests. Which is how, an hour later, while practicing jumping from roof to roof, I caught sight of a hooded figure rushing towards the back entrance of Ma¡¯Ritz. From their build, I could tell this person was not Belobog, but someone else. They were taller, but hunched over, and they were thicker. Of course, they were also wrapped and covered completely in cloth. Given their dress and the fact that it was still pre-dawn, this person appeared incredibly suspicious. As they were nearly to Ma¡¯Ritz, I decided to intercept them. I quickly landed back upon the rooftop of Ma¡¯Ritz and I scurried to the edge; remembering my previous attempts to impress with a gratuitously dangerous maneuver, I decided to play this one a little safer. So rather than jumping straight off the roof, I rolled over the side and began crawling downwards. Given my sigils around climbing, I found it easy to climb, even though I was upside down and even though the blood ought to have been rushing towards my head. I continued climbing, down one story, then another. All the while, the figure remained unaware of my presence. However, their trajectory was carrying them directly towards the back entrance of Ma¡¯Ritz, and they were nearly there. Rather than risking them reaching the door and performing who knows what potentially malicious action, I leapt from the wall, even though I was still ten feet up. In the air, once more I summersalted as I sailed downwards. I landed in a crouch, my knees springing. My feet stung, my ankles trembled, but I avoided rolling across the ground like a fool. At my arrival, the figure halted midstep. I got a clear view of their eyes under their hood and in the gaps of the cloth wrapping their face. Their eyes widened, their feline eyes. ¡°Wha¨C?¡± the figure, the female Kaiva said, taken aback, before recognizing me, just as I recognized her. ¡°Jackie?¡± ¡°Cook?¡± I asked in return. ¡°Why are you sulking about dressed as a criminal?¡± Cook normally would have no business stepping outside of Ma¡¯Ritz, as she both lived and worked there, and as the city was not the most hospitable to non-humans. Though it was not impossible for the beastkin to travel out and about, but in the upper city, they needed both a collar and paperwork in hand. ¡°Ah¡­ this one will explain¨C¡± Cook glanced quickly to the left and right ¡°-but inside. The kitchen must begin preparations soon.¡± I shrugged, finding no reason to keep her from entering. I stepped to the side and let her unlock the back door, before following. She hung her cloak on a lonely hook by the door, before unwrapping a long and thin scarf and hanging it as well. Next, she removed her gloves, also hanging them. Then finally, she removed the long and baggy robes she had been wearing. Except for her eyes, her outfit had left nothing revealed. ¡°That disguise must be miserable in the summer,¡± I said off-handedly, watching her remove the rest of the costume. ¡°What summer, this one wonders?¡± Cook said, the corner of her lip curled, revealing several fangs. Is there no summer here? I wondered if I had revealed more than I thought I had, and I quickly pushed on, ignoring the possible misstep. ¡°But that disguise does appear difficult to move in,¡± I said. ¡°For more reason than one. Was there a reason you wore it?¡± Cook scoffed. ¡°As though the child does not already know the reason,¡± Cook said as she stepped further into the kitchen, beginning to rifle through the cabinets, searching for supplies. ¡°It is true that Southbridge is not the most welcoming of non-humans¨C¡± I nodded, knowing that far too well from personal experience. ¡°But would there not be easier methods of going out? I could not imagine that the Peacekeepers or the Lower Knights would fail to find your appearance suspicious.¡± ¡°Ha,¡± Cook said. ¡°And what does Jackie recommend?¡± Cook asked, somewhat amused, as though she were humoring me. I paused, before considering aloud, ¡°That depends, I suppose, on your intentions.¡± ¡°And this is when Jackie insists intentions are revealed?¡± Cook said, her amusement taking a somewhat harsher mix. ¡°Revealing this one¡¯s secrets?¡± But to her surprise, I shook my head in earnestness. ¡°No,¡± I answered. ¡°Your secrets are your own.¡± Because while I would love to know every secret, I owed Cook, and if she were mixed up in anything crooked, it might be best if I kept myself clear from it. Besides, I still owed her plenty of favors for all the free meals I had received from her. It was not as though I could find that same quality of meat and preparation anywhere, afterall. It was important to protect the supply chain which kept me nourished. ¡°Truly? This one will not be pressured?¡± Cook asked. She frowned, her brows furrowed. ¡°Then why was this one interrupted before returning, if Jackie was not curious?¡± I thought of giving a glib response, such as I was coming for breakfast. However, the mood failed to match anything of the sort, and instead I gave a small half shrug. ¡°I failed to recognize you on your approach. As I am charged with keeping a watch at night, I thought to investigate or dissuade a potential incident. You must admit, your outfit could send the wrong message.¡± ¡°Ah,¡± Cook said, nodding. She set a mixing bowl on the counter and began pulling spices. ¡°This one supposes that that was a valid reason for interruption. But then, assuming this one intended to move about the city unnoticed, what would Jackie recommend?¡± I tapped my chin, leaning against a metal cabinet as I watched Cook work, grating tubers into the bowl. Whatever dish she was preparing likely required an inordinate amount of marinating; many of the popular dishes in Southbridge were like that, half-rotten vegetable dishes prepared ¡®just right.¡¯ Shaking off my musings of disgusting culinary practices, I answered. ¡°To go about unnoticed, were I you, I would find either a convincing disguise, or I would avoid going myself.¡± ¡°And my disguise was unconvincing?¡± Air escaped from my lips. ¡°No. It was incredibly suspicious and made it clear you had something to hide, which would only draw further investigation. A convincing disguise would be to appear as expected¡­¡± ¡°Which would be?¡± Cook asked. I felt uncomfortable even saying this, so I pointed to my own neck where a collar would have gone, should I wear one. Because that would be the answer, to fit in and appear as expected such that stray eyes would glance over. ¡°Ah.¡± I nodded in commiseration. ¡°I suppose I cannot blame you for choosing your disguise,¡± I said. ¡°If I were to choose between what you wore and shackles, I might choose suspicious garments as well.¡± Cook nodded, continuing preparation of some sort of thick slurry. ¡°But even were this one to follow your advice, humans dislike kunbeorn wandering the streets at night, even collared. Since this one¡¯s schedule prohibits leaving during the day, claws are bound¡­¡± ¡°I had not realized that there was a curfew,¡± I said, mentally adding another reason to be glad for my spell, as expensive as it was. ¡°The curfew,¡± Cook said with scorn, ¡°is only for those such as this one. But if this one cannot tend to her own errands, then perhaps Jackie may be of aid?¡± I had a sudden uncomfortable feeling. ¡°That depends on what you require, I suppose,¡± I said with some hesitation. Cook bared her teeth. ¡°Just a small matter of locating a person of interest.¡± If that was all she was asking, then I supposed the request was not overly onerous, and it would fit in well with my current task. I did owe Cook. ¡°And this person of note is?¡± I asked for details. ¡°Does Jackie recall the Kaiva of note at the butcher shop?¡± I thought back to it. There had been only one that stood out amongst the rest. ¡°With white fur, green eyes?¡± I asked. ¡°Yes,¡± Cook smiled. ¡°This one wishes to discover her whereabouts.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Sure,¡± I said. ¡°But why? Who is she? And how should I go about finding her?¡± ¡°That one would be my previous¡­ employer,¡± Cook said, after a drawn out pause. ¡°And this one is unsure, but in the vicinity of that shop, perhaps? That is where this one would begin.¡± ¡°So across the divide then. In the slums,¡± I mused slowly, before nodding and coming to a final decision. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll help out.¡± Cook grinned, showing all of her sharp teeth. ¡°This one thanks you,¡± she said. ¡°Rather than words, thank me with breakfast,¡± I answered, grinning back. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism I (1/9):
    • Climbing I (4/9)
      • Featherlight I (4/9) (+1)
      • Inversion (2/9)
    • Gymnastics (3/9) (+1)
  • Stealth I (8/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (5/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver I (2/9)
    • Evasion I (1/9)
      • Impending Sense (2/9)
    • Lucky Break (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (5/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.4.3 I woke to knocking. It was the distinct sound of knuckles on wood, complemented with an irritated yet amused huff. I recognized that breathing pattern. And if not that recognition, I could also track the approximate height of the perpetrator. Otherwise, I might have begun my day a tad more alert. But as I knew the person, I continued to laze. I was laying in bed, tangled in sheets and a thin woolen blanket, exactly where I had fallen in the hours of the early morning. I felt entitled to sleeping in. In fact, that had been the entire point of changing my shifts around, allowing me to focus on that which I excelled at. Afterall, there was no reason to burn my candle at both ends. In fact, that had been the exact advice I had been given by the very person that was now attempting to awaken me. This was hypocrisy. Naturally, I protested. I tried grumbling. However, the knocking continued. ¡°I¡¯m sleeping¡­¡± I mumbled. The shutters were thrown wide, allowing in the diffuse daylight¨Cit must have been around noon, at least judging by the blinding brightness. I threw a pillow over my face. ¡°Whyyyy?¡± I asked. ¡°Oh please!¡± Marianne laughed. ¡°Don¡¯t be so dramatic!¡± Marianne said, her voice far too cheerful. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be working downstairs?¡± I said, voice surly. I made a half hearted motion to swipe the sleep from my eyes, though I hesitated to truly commit, because if Marianne left, I would definitely attempt to rest for a bit longer. ¡°Yep, I should be down there. Lunch shift and all,¡± she said. After a little pause, she added, ¡°Actually, I¡¯ll need to be getting back down there pretty soon here, so¡­¡± she trailed off, wiggling slightly. I began to doubt I would get off with going back to bed. It was daylight, I had things to do, and if whatever Marianne woke me up for brought her up in the middle of her shift, then whatever it was must have been important. I finally removed the crust from the corner of my eyes and glared at her. ¡°Well what is it?¡± I huffed. ¡°Unless you just felt compelled to come wake me up just because?¡± ¡°Sometimes you¡¯re such a kid, Jackie,¡± Marianne said, a twinkle in her eyes. ¡°But while you should totally have already woken up by now, that¡¯s not what I¡¯m up here for.¡± ¡°And just what do you mean by that?¡± I protested. ¡°You¡¯re acting as though I¡¯m sleeping in! I got to bed maybe an hour before you woke up. We are on different schedules here, and it is unfair for you to hold me accountable to your own.¡± ¡°Jackie¨C¡± Marianne gave a dubious look full of doubt, though softened with a wry grin ¡°-it¡¯s past noon.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± I deflated. If it were past noon, then perhaps it was about time to be waking up. I did want to get some investigation done prior to my night shift. Plus, I had to begin searching for the white Kaiva, otherwise known as Cook¡¯s previous employer. The list of people I was looking for only seemed to be growing. And that reminded me that Marianne still had a promised contact for an information-broker, though the recent conflict with the Garnets seemed to have put a pause on me deriving any usage from that. While I began to feel overwhelmed by all the tasks I had to take on, most of which I had made little to no progress on, Marianne continued. I remembered that she was rushed for time currently, especially as she had a shift to return to. ¡°I¡¯m here for two reasons,¡± Marianne started. ¡°One, I¡¯ve got some great news from Esmerelda! I was originally going to wait, but now that I¡¯m up here I don¡¯t think I can not share it!¡± I had a feeling I knew what she was going to say. Esmerelda had been attempting to secure funding for both of us to attend the Academy. While I had some mixed feelings about attending school with entitled teenagers, I knew that it was a big deal for Marianne. As Esmerelda had known Marianne for much longer than myself, I expected that Marianne would have her way paid prior to mine. I was already preparing myself to encourage Marianne onward, while possibly missing the opportunity that I was on the fence about anyways. All of that was distilled down into a simple and amused, ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°Yep!¡± Marianne almost cheered. ¡°She just told me this morning that she finally acquired enough funds to pay for both of us to attend the Academy! Both!¡± She squealed in excitement. ¡°Isn¡¯t that great! It¡¯s amazing! Just think Jackie! We¡¯ll both be attending the same classes at the same time! I just can¡¯t wait!¡± ¡°Wait¡­ What?¡± I asked, befuddled by both Marianne¡¯s excitement and the fact that Esmerelda had succeeded. ¡°I knew Esmerelda said she would try to put together some of the funds, but she actually did it? Isn¡¯t attendance incredibly expensive?¡± Marianne stumbled over her words at the same time she flinched. ¡°Y-yeah¡­¡± Marianne said, trailing off. ¡°Maybe we shouldn¡¯t think too hard about what went into paying for that? You know?¡± ¡°Valid point,¡± I said, making a concession. Because considering exactly what Esmerelda did for a living, I imagined that neither Marianne nor I would care to delve too deeply into just how Esmerelda acquired those funds. Or favors. I know in the past that I tried not to think of how she acquired enough favor with Phillip Blackrest either. ¡°Besides,¡± I offered weakly, ¡°Perhaps her boss helped pay? It will only help the prestige of Ma¡¯Ritz¡­¡± ¡°Right! Yeah!¡± Marianne said, seizing the opportunity to willfully ignore the facts. ¡°But anyways,¡± she changed the subject quickly. ¡°Class starts in a week! You ready for that? It¡¯s crazy how fast it¡¯s happening, right?!¡± ¡°... I¡­ I beg your pardon?¡± I asked. While I knew, intellectually, that the Academy term was beginning soon, it had only been in an abstract sense, as a large portion of me never expected to actually attend. But Marianne was right. And it was coming incredibly fast. Which was problematic, as there were many logistics that still needed to be worked out, such as text-books, other study materials, if there were uniforms or not¡­ suddenly it all felt very overwhelming. It was. As I verged on the edge of a small panic attack, I decided the best course of action would be to ignore everything and maintain the conversation previously. ¡°But is that enough reason to come up here and wake me up?¡± I asked, shelving my concerns for later. Hopefully, much later. ¡°Ha!¡± Marianne slapped the wooden bed post. ¡°Jackie, you should have been up already! But no, that¡¯s not the only reason. Remember, I had two reasons!¡± She illustrated the point by holding up two fingers, unintentionally forming a sign of victory. ¡°Right¡­¡± I said hesitantly. ¡°And what was the second?¡± I sat up and began to stretch, still in my night clothes. The fact I was still in my thin gown was not missed by Marianne, who quickly gave me a somewhat critical eye. ¡°And I¡¯ll tell you,¡± she said hesitantly, ¡°but you should probably throw on some clothes as I do.¡± ¡°Why, exactly?¡± I asked, while at the same time opening my trunk and selecting an outfit. ¡°You¡¯ve seen me dress plenty of times.¡± ¡°Well¨C¡± Marianne started to answer when the door opened. A familiar giant of a blonde stepped in. It was Sir Kate Guardson. What is she doing here? I thought. ¡°Can I come in yet?¡± Kate asked, already stepping inside even before she asked. ¡°I¡¯ve been listening to your voices for a while now, and I¡¯m feeling awkward standing out in the hallway. Non-customers usually don¡¯t come up here, right? I don¡¯t want anybody getting the wrong ideas, yeah?¡± Ignoring whatever delusions or imaginations that Kate may have held about the hallway outside our room, Marianne immediately shrieked, ¡°You were supposed to wait!¡± As she scolded the larger girl, Marianne interjected herself between Kate and I, even though Kate could see over the top of Marianne. ¡°Oh, changing?¡± Kate asked, hardly bothered at all. ¡°Looks like I came just in time¡­¡± The way she was looking me over left me feeling gross and awkward. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have brought you up if I knew you were going to creep!¡± Marianne stamped her foot and pointed at the door. ¡°Out! Wait for her to change!¡± Kate held up her hands and backed out the door. ¡°Alright, alright¡­ I¡¯ll wait a bit longer¡­ Not like I won¡¯t be seeing more of her sometime later¡­¡± Her eyes ran across me once more, causing goosebumps to pimple on the back of my neck and arms. The moment Kate was on the other side of the threshold, Marianne slammed the door in a huff and turned back towards me, her face red. ¡°Sorry about that! Hope you¡¯re not mad.¡± Deciding to downplay everything, I affected my most disinterested tone. ¡°Why would I be mad?¡± I asked with a cool voice, only hurrying slightly to finish dressing. I slipped my pants on before turning my back to Marianne and taking off the nightshift. Next came a wrap, and then a tunic. ¡°We¡¯re all girls here.¡± ¡°Ugh! You know why,¡± Marianne said, huffing in irritation. ¡°Now that we can really do anything about it. Gods, it might not even be that bad of a thing to have her see your assets. But I know when you¡¯re changing subjects¨C¡± ¡°-Marianne,¡± I interrupted her deluge. ¡°Thank you for stepping in. I appreciate that.¡± ¡°Well,¡± Marianne blushed, before shaking her head. ¡°But anyways, now that you¡¯re decent, I really need to get back to my shift. You good up here?¡± ¡°You mean with Kate?¡± I asked. ¡°Yeah, that one.¡± Marianne glowered at the door. ¡°I normally wouldn¡¯t have brought her, but she insisted. Vigorously. It¡¯s hard saying no to the girl.¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯m aware,¡± I answered. ¡°Though, I should be fine. Thanks for waking me up and covering for me Marianne! I appreciate it!¡± ¡°Course!¡± Marianne smiled. As soon as Marianne exited, I heard her spare several words for Kate, before Kate loudly apologized and stepped back into the room. I turned to face Kate while running a comb through my hair. She was grimy and covered in dust from her morning practice. The sand stuck to creases of her boots matched the Mercenary Quarter. ¡°Sir Kate,¡± I greeted her with a terse nod, wary of revealing any of my conflicting emotions. ¡°What brings you here? I don¡¯t think you¡¯ve visited up here before.¡± She snorted, giving a quick glance about the room. ¡°Place is kinda a dump,¡± she said, likely unaware of the condescension implied by her statement. Naturally, I ignored this. ¡°All the more reason to leave me curious as to the reason for your visit?¡± I prompted. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. She pointed a finger at me and grinned. ¡°You!¡± Kate said. I could not help but notice the filth collected beneath her fingernail. She followed my eyes, then coughed and blushed while lowering her finger and wiping it against her tabard. ¡°You skipped training this morning.¡± ¡°I did,¡± I said, nodding patiently, already thinking of how I would begin my search in the slums, and how to go about finding either Emboru¡¯s sibling or Cook¡¯s former employer. ¡°Oh¡­ Uhm¡­¡± Kate hemmed and hawed, clearly failing to have thought ahead before broaching the subject. That, or my lackluster response had caught her flat-footed. With her, it could go either way. ¡°Did you just oversleep then?¡± Kate finally managed to ask, before muttering, ¡°happens to the best of us I suppose.¡± ¡°No,¡± I said, answering bluntly. ¡°I have had a recent shift in priorities. I likely won¡¯t be attending training in the foreseeable future.¡± ¡°What?!¡± Kate demanded. ¡°But¡­ why? That¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s our thing!¡± I flattened my lips and adopted a regretful and conciliatory tone. ¡°Yes, it is unfortunate,¡± I said, slowly explaining myself. ¡°But with the Academy commencing soon, and with my evening job of securing this establishment, I truly lack the time to also better myself in the training yard. It is regrettable, surely. However¨C¡± I switched to a slightly sharper tone ¡°-can you honestly say that my time there was the best use of it? How much have I actually been learning there?¡± ¡°Nu-huh! You¡¯ve been learning a ton!¡± Kate protested. ¡°Didn¡¯t you just unlock a new glyph?¡± She was referring to Gymnastics, which she could now see the glyph of, but not read. I had yet to tell her much of it, preferring to keep my abilities to myself. ¡°Who¡¯s to say if that resulted from our training or not,¡± I said, although I avoided the details of my nocturnal habits. ¡°But regardless, I have insufficient time to pursue all these avenues of self-betterment currently. More so now, with the Academy. Unless you believe the practice yard should replace a formal education?¡± I posed a rhetorical hypothetical. ¡°Uhh¡­ No?¡± Kate answered, sounding uncertain. ¡°But, like, why does it need to be one or the other?¡± ¡°Kate,¡± I said firmly, giving her a stern and level look. ¡°Hmmm yeah?¡± She said, meeting my eyes. Hers were quite blue, and I noticed they widened slightly, with pupils dilating ever so much. ¡°Have you ever worked three jobs at once before?¡± I asked, hoping to put things into context for her. ¡°Of course not,¡± Kate said, giving a confused scoff. ¡°What sort of ridiculous question is that?¡± ¡°Think about it,¡± I said, holding up one finger after another. ¡°I work at Ma¡¯Ritz.¡± ¡°So that¡¯s one,¡± Kate said. ¡°I used to work the lunch shift and the night security shift, so I count it as two.¡± ¡°Nope! Just one job, with lousy hours. So that puts you at one, maybe one and a half. What else you got? Not like you can call our morning training sessions a job too.¡± I frowned. Depending on how these activities were counted, I might not reach a full three. ¡°Well, there¡¯s the Academy too,¡± I said. ¡°That will take much of my time right there.¡± ¡°Ha!¡± Kate exclaimed, as though she won. ¡°That hasn¡¯t even started yet! O course, I admit, I admit, working while schooling is going to suck, and I see where you¡¯re trying to go with your argument, but you¡¯ve gotta make time for training if you wanna rise above it all!¡± In a manner, Kate was correct. It was important to make time for self-betterment. I believed that some might have called it ¡®sharpening-the-saw.¡¯ However, what Kate was missing was the fact that I had other items on my agenda. And it was not as though I could simply tell her of them. But as we spoke, and as she continued with a heavy gaze, weighing into me, it became clear that I would need to give her at least some plausible reason for my alternative commitments. Which was frustrating. I should not need to justify myself to anyone. ¡°At least you acknowledge my original point,¡± I said, taking whatever conversational points that I could. ¡°That I have far too little time.¡± Deciding that we should change to more valuable topics, I sat down on the edge of my bed. I patted beside me for her to sit down beside me. Kate gave a dubious glance back towards the open door and hallway, before glancing back towards me with a playful hunger. ¡°You sure it¡¯s alright to have a girl to bed?¡± she asked. ¡°I would have thought I needed to pay for that.¡± ¡°Nevermind!¡± I said, jumping to my feet. ¡°I am not a night-worker,¡± I hissed, with a glare. Notably, I had no need to fake this expression. As I turned her words over and over again, I could not help but wonder just what she was thinking in speaking something so crass. ¡°Woah, hey!¡± Kate tried consoling me by patting the air. ¡°DIdn¡¯t mean anything bad by it. Work¡¯s work, yeah?¡± I let out a deep breath, reminding myself that I would rather stay in Kate¡¯s good graces, and that perhaps I may have overreacted. Likely, Kate had simply blurted the first thing that had come to her head. She had spoken without thinking, a norm for her, I was finding. ¡°Forgive me,¡± I said finally as I settled back down, once more resuming my perch upon my bed. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ I have a lot on my mind currently.¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± Kate said, coming over and plopping down on the bed besides me, near enough our hips touched. I noticed that she had left the door open. I was unsure if the door being open was a concession Kate had to make towards Marianne or something else. It seemed unintuitive that Kate would do anything other than cease the moment privately. ¡°Wanna tell me about it?¡± Kate asked. Her serious, understanding tone¡­ it caught me off guard. I was unused to this side of her. It was almost as if she were practicing active listening. I decided to take advantage of it while it lasted. Because there were things she could help me with. ¡°The Academy,¡± I said, allowing some stress to leak out. ¡°I¡¯m hardly prepared and it starts in a week.¡± ¡°Less than a week actually,¡± Kate corrected, before wincing slightly. ¡°But, yeah, go on?¡± ¡°I know near nothing about what will happen. What I need to do. What steps I must take currently. I lack even a basic syllabus! Where do I go on the first day? What do I wear? Should I buy any preparatory material?¡± ¡°And don¡¯t forget getting to a proper Sacred Artist,¡± Kate added to the list. ¡°That¡¯s honestly probably the most important part. No, definitely the most important part.¡± ¡°Sacred¡­ Artist?¡± I asked, some small amount of fear leaking in. I knew, of course, what Sacred Artists were. They were the mystical tattoo artists that somehow made Glyphs and Sigils work. They were incredibly expensive, and the better ones were difficult to schedule. In fact, I was under the impression that the nearest Sacred Artist was out of Bath, which was the next city north. Of course, there were rumors of under the table and back-alley Artists, but those were often accompanied with horror stories of deviations, experimentation, or worse. ¡°You didn¡¯t know?¡± Kate asked, concern washing over her face. I shook my head slowly. ¡°I was under the impression that the Academy would take care of anything of that sort. Although, now that I think of it, I have no idea why I ever assumed that. Why¨C¡± I wet my lips ¡°-why do I need to find a Sacred Artist?¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ this might be a longer discussion than I had thought,¡± Kate said, before realizing how that might have sounded, and hastening to correct herself. ¡°Which is no problem, of course. But if I¡¯m gonna be doing all this explaining, I might need something out of it.¡± I rolled my eyes, quickly losing a portion of anxiety as I exchanged it for irritation. Of course, Kate would attempt to leverage her aid for a material benefit. And knowing her, it would be either fighting or, well, of another intimate nature. ¡°But!¡± Kate put an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in so that I leaned against her. ¡°I¡¯m willing to help, of course! Can¡¯t have my best girl getting stuck with some sort of shit.¡± ¡°If you were going to help me either way,¡± I said, ¡°then why act like you¡¯re holding your aid hostage?¡± I asked, twisting out from under her arm and scooching away. ¡°Because if someone had attended practice this morning, then we could have talked it out then!¡± Ah. Of course it came back down to that. ¡°Unfortunately,¡± I explained, ¡°I was up until nearly dawn. I would have been dead tired if I managed to somehow make it to the practice yard.¡± ¡°Up late partying?¡± Kate asked. ¡°No...¡± I frowned. I was certain I had told her at some point. I must have. ¡°I was working,¡± I explained once more. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right¡­¡± Kate looked away and scratched the back of her head. ¡°Anyways! So, yeah, you know how the Academy is split into paths, yeah?¡± ¡°No, not really.¡± Truthfully, besides what Marianne had told me, or that I had overheard from patrons in the tavern, I knew very little about the actual Academy. It left me somewhat surprised I was willing to go through such lengths to even attend. Except, I knew there would be tangible benefits to doing so. Even if I had little knowledge as to what those benefits were, exactly. ¡°Oh. Well alright. So it¡¯s like this¡­¡± Kate explained, taking a deep breath as though resetting herself. ¡°The Academy offers a few different paths, to help people fit different roles later in life, and more importantly, so that kids can network with the right group of kids. ¡°Like a cohort then?¡± I asked. It was not uncommon for groups of students to attend a series of classes together, at least not back home. ¡°Maybe?¡± Kate said. ¡°Not sure about that. But, so anyways, multiple paths. Your is likely gonna be the Path of Grace.¡± ¡°Which is?¡± I pushed for more details. ¡°It¡¯s for entertainers, courtesans, maybe some spare daughters.¡± I felt partially offended. But before I reacted, I thought I would find out more. ¡°And what other paths are there, to compare?¡± ¡°Military, Management, Architecture. Mining? I think. There¡¯s probably a few others. But the important part is, that for each path, each student needs to get a Mark, to help solidify the lessons. Otherwise, it¡¯s a whole lot of doing for a whole lot of nothing.¡± Interesting, that given the fact Marks could grow with a person¡¯s development, that they would be used as the core method to measure success in an academic program. Following that train of thought, I asked, ¡°do students receive credentials from the program?¡± ¡°What? No, I don¡¯t think so, anyways. The Mark is enough. Well that and the networking. But that¡¯s why I¡¯m bringing up the Sacred Artist! If you don¡¯t have one lined up, then¡­ I don¡¯t even know, but I¡¯ve heard awful things about people that rely on the hand outs from the Academy¡­ we¡¯re talking single Sigil levels of bad.¡± I winced. Greater Glyphs were the best a person could reasonably get, with each composed of three Lesser Glyphs, and each Lesser Glyph would be composed by three Sigils. But a single Sigil offered no advantage of evolution, and would merely grow more effective in a single, linear category, if that. ¡°Surely not?¡± I asked. I wanted to point out that providing Sigils would be worse than unfair. Especially since a Sigil would take the spot of a Mark, and there were only nine spots on the body that a Mark could go. And considering I had yet to hear of a method of removing a Mark, that meant that it would permanently worsen whoever received it, at least if compared to their original potential. ¡°Yep,¡± Kate said. ¡°And there¡¯s no guarantee that they¡¯ll have appropriate materials either. I don¡¯t even know what the cheapest sort of ink they could use would be. Maybe carbon dust?¡± She shuddered. ¡°Yeah no. We¡¯re getting you fixed up right and proper.¡± ¡°But how?¡± I asked. Kate gave a boyish and confident grin. ¡°Easy. First, we figure out which type of Mark you want. It will need to fit the list of Grace approved Marks, but we¡¯ll find you something. I was already beginning to feel better about this situation. The sheer enthusiasm that Kate had left me warming up slightly. I knew that staying on her good side was the right option. ¡°Next, we need to figure out which sort of ink will work best. That means picking the right material for the best result.¡± ¡°How?¡± I asked, perking up at the thought of expanding my repertoire, even if it were for a Mark named Grace. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t even get me started! There¡¯s an entire catalog back at the garrison. So many different choices.¡± ¡°And what difference do these inks make?¡± ¡°Alright, for example, say you use living ruby as the base material,¡± she glanced my way and I nodded, to show I was following along. ¡°Alright, so that would grant a heat aspect to the Mark. Which would be weird for anything involving Grace, but an example would be maybe immunity to chilly air¡­¡± Kate gave a lascivious grin. ¡°Why would that be helpful?¡± I asked. ¡°Well, it was just an example of what a material could do. But I could think of several reasons for a dancer to want to keep warm against the chill.¡± I scoffed and gave her a dirty look. What a foolish thing to say. Dancing was typically a sweaty affair. Feeling the cool air would likely be a blessing. Ignoring that folly, I pressed, ¡°I assume the catalog you mentioned lists the materials and their effects upon Marks?¡± ¡°Yep! It gives the compatible conductive metals too, though most of the time you¡¯ll just want the best you can afford.¡± ¡°Which brings me to my second question, how can I afford all of this? And even if I could, how could I reserve a Sacred Artist to install the Mark?¡± Kate frowned for a moment, before her eyes widened, apparently having had an idea. ¡°Not so sure about paying for it,¡± Kate said, ¡°though I have a few ideas there. But for actually finding the Sacred Artist, I¡¯ve got some pretty good news for that!¡± ¡°Oh?¡± I asked, all while congratulating myself for maintaining connections with the girl. ¡°Yeah! The Crown approved Sacred Artist from Bath is in town to Mark the Knights. I figure we can get them to do the work!¡± ¡°Would they be willing to work on a non-knight?¡± I asked. ¡°Because, I must confess, I am reluctant to join the army.¡± ¡°Ha!¡± Kate laughed loudly, echoing painfully in the room. ¡°Too young! Not that they wouldn¡¯t have you, of course¡­¡± she said, quickly backtracking. ¡°But alright!¡± She leapt to her feet, before forcibly pulling me to mine. ¡°Next step! The garrison! We¡¯ll figure out which Mark you¡¯ll get, and which materials. Then I¡¯ll convince the Sacred Artist to pencil you in for this week. So let¡¯s go! Times a wastin!¡± She began dragging me out the door. ¡°A quick question,¡± I asked. ¡°How much would all of this normally cost?¡± Kate shrugged, ¡°Maybe a few thousand Cee?¡± I mentally tallied my entire savings of Chargers. I only had about eight-hundred. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s not that bad!¡± Kate protested. ¡°I¡¯m sure we can get you a discount. And like I said, I have some ideas for how you can pay¡­¡± For some unknown reason, the fact that she had ideas failed to put me at ease. Absorption 2.4.4 Kate and I made quick progress down Blossom Hill, leaving Ma¡¯Ritz with only a brief wave to Marianne on our way. With Kate walking beside me, most of the peacekeepers ignored me, along with the usual suspects of rough laborers who lingered to the sides of the street, nearly out of sight but not quite. As I caught the eyes of one such suspect, I obliquely caught Kate¡¯s attention and gestured towards them. ¡°I thought the checkpoint was supposed to keep the Hill clear of certain types,¡± I said, not loudly enough to be heard over the boulevard¡¯s din, not unless a Talent or Spell were involved; I had been assured that such wastes of Marks were rare, at least among the common populace. Kate glanced where I had gestured and she saw the few roustabouts I had sighted, where they lounged beneath the eaves of a shopfront. Kate scoffed and shook her head. ¡°Someone needs to clean the muck,¡± she explained. I revisited my earlier assumption that the relatively drab characters were suspicious. Perhaps, I had been overly judgmental. At least, that was my train of thought until Kate continued. ¡°Though normally they keep outta sight,¡± she said. ¡°Why ask?¡± ¡°Hm?¡± I responded half-heartedly. I was occupied wondering which method the Garnets and other gangs were using to infiltrate the Hill. While these particular people might not have been malicious in their intentions, it would likely be possible for someone with such intentions to sneak in among the rest of the riff-raff. ¡°I wanted to know why you brought it up,¡± Kate said. ¡°One of them bothering you?¡± Kate asked directly. ¡°I know they aren¡¯t much to look at, but I figured you wouldn¡¯t be the sort to be bothered by that type of stuff.¡± Kate took a slight tone of trepidation as she finished, perhaps even worrying, though I could not fathom why, unless she was suddenly judging my character as lacking. If only she knew, I mused. ¡°No, not at all,¡± I assured her instead. ¡°You know that I encountered several criminals in my nightly duties protecting Ma¡¯Ritz. This merely led me to consider potential security risks.¡± ¡°Ah. Yeah,¡± Kate said, nodding to herself, looking relieved. ¡°You killed ¡®em though, right? So all square there?¡± A quick memory surfaced, of me falling through the night air, wind rushing past me, the autonomous movement of my false arm as it unraveled and crushed through flesh and bone, releasing offal and worse. As quickly as the thought came, I pushed it away, suppressing it with a shudder. ¡°-I did,¡± I confirmed. ¡°Huh. Well, that never should have had to happen in the first place, but I¡¯m glad you held your own. Impressive, really, considering your lack of training and all. Fat lotta good the baron¡¯s men do with their ¡®honest work,¡¯ yeah?¡± I glanced at Kate, both amused and concerned. ¡°Are you allowed to speak so forwardly concerning the baron? He is the lord of the land?¡± Kate guffawed. ¡°You might not know, but the Knights report to Kwin, to the Crown, not to the baron.¡± She finished with a hawked loogie spat upon the ground. ¡°Lovely,¡± I said, wincing and turning my head away in disgust. Conversation quickly stalled out after that. Kate seemed confused as to why. We pushed through the checkpoint without hassle, the peacekeepers quickly recognizing Kate and avoided meeting her eye. I recognized one of the peacekeepers, but the man pretended that he failed to recognize me, likely not wanting to stir Kate¡¯s ire. Until that point, I had not realized Kate sat above them in the city¡¯s hierarchy. As we finished passing through, entering the bustle of the quarters, I asked Kate about it. ¡°They seemed to defer to you,¡± I pointed out to her as we walked away from the checkpoint. Kate grinned down at me. ¡°You bet,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m titled. They aren¡¯t. Plus, my mom¡¯s in charge of all the High Knights in the city. So they¡¯d better step carefully ¡®round me.¡± She puffed out her chest, boasting, still grinning. I filed the knowledge away, but her pride, and the hierarchy: both manipulatable. I considered broaching several of my issues with the peacekeepers. It seemed like a potentially quick method to remove one of the several thorns in my side. But before I committed to airing dirty laundry, potentially my own, though hopefully not, I decided to push for more information regarding Kate¡¯s status. ¡°Titled?¡± I prodded her regarding her status. ¡°Yep!¡± She continued boasting. ¡°You know I¡¯m Sir Gaurdson, yeah?¡± I nodded, comparing what I knew from back home, and what I had assumed here. ¡°Are all knights titled?¡± I asked. ¡°Some,¡± Kate shrugged. When she saw some of my confusion, she added, ¡°But I¡¯m not a full knight, yet.¡± ¡°Alright¡­¡± I may have pursed my lips, though I strove to keep a neutral face, especially when displaying a potential weakness. ¡°But you are a Sir? Even though you¡¯re not a knight, yet?¡± ¡°Gotta be honest,¡± Kate said as she pulled me through the crowds of the Merc Quarter, ¡°Not sure where you¡¯re going with these questions. Not all knights are titled, and the title¡¯s what gives the Sir.¡± ¡°Then what do I call most knights?¡± I asked. I was making an attempt to address the clash between my expectations and the reality I found myself within. ¡°I dunno, their name?¡± Kate sounded confused as to why I was asking. ¡°Maybe with a ¡®Knight¡¯ before that?¡± I nodded, as though I had known this all along. It appeared that knights, even high knights, were relatively mediocre in regards to status. But that left a question. ¡°What¡¯s your title then?¡± I asked, as I was fairly certain that each referred to either land or an inheritable trait of some sort. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯ve ever told me.¡± ¡°Haaa,¡± Kate said, scratching the nape of her neck. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll tell ya later.¡± I decided against pressing her for more information, as it appeared to leave her uncomfortable. I figured that if I needed to know, I could always ask around, without potentially straining my relations with Kate. As we finished pushing our way through the Merc Quarter, passing the public training yards without stopping. As we passed, I saw Instructor Phillip Blackrest training several men by throwing heavy sandbags their way as they drilled. From the distance, I could see his lips curled upwards just slightly, which for him was a grin. ¡°Where are we headed anyways?¡± I asked Kate. ¡°Told ya, the garrison¡¯s library.¡± ¡°You did,¡± I said slowly. ¡°But where in the city is that?¡± ¡°The tower,¡± she said simply. I resisted the urge of rubbing my temples in frustration. There were multiple structures in the city that could qualify as a tower. Even the tenement houses in the slums could qualify, though I doubted the knights kept a library there, considering how run-down and crime-rampant the slums were. Ten minutes of walking along the main thoroughfare saw us arrive at the divide, the sunken highway that split the city in two. Kate steered us to the left, heading towards the chasm. The ¡®good¡¯ side of the divide saw the highway lined with a raised sidewalk and promenade which overlooked the bustling traffic of caravans moving goods north and south. From what I had learned, lumber and ¡®jungle-ore¡¯ was the largest import, while artificed goods and alchemy products were exported towards the frontier and colonies. As we walked, we came nearer to the chasm, and I finally realized which tower Kate referred to. It was that tower. Sitting at the edge of the chasm, separating the bridge from the city, with foundations stretching across the width of the highway, was the primary fortification that defended against incursion from the tribes to the south. Local vernacular called it the bridge-tower. ¡°Your library is in there?¡± I asked, my voice just slightly tight. ¡°Course,¡± Kate responded gruffly, marching us towards the Eastern entrance. ¡°It¡¯s the main garrison. Think we keep the good stuff where we can¡¯t protect it?¡± ¡°No, of course that makes sense,¡± I said. ¡°The tower is just¡­¡± ¡°Impressive?¡± Kate asked, amused and proud all at once. ¡°Yes,¡± I admitted. ¡°Very much so.¡± ¡°There¡¯s a reason the baron¡¯s thugs afear the knights,¡± she said, pushing her chest out and thumping it with a fist. Were I to compare the bridge-tower to a structure back home, it would fall short. Modern skyscrapers would be difficult to beat. However, compared to the regular edifices of the city, the tower stretched both high and wide. Made of gray stone, likely quarried from the wastes, it stretched three blocks wide, and perhaps ten stories high. It was a massive chunk of stone. Furthermore, the joints had been treated with various alchemicals, giving the stone a uniform appearance. Were it not for its regular corners and even embellishments, the tower might have been mistaken for a single slab of stone. It was the seat of the true law-enforcement of the city, the seat of the Crown¡¯s influence in the city; likely home to many secrets and seized substances¡­ and Kate was inviting me into it. Not that I would abuse Kate¡¯s trust during this visit. However, I could learn the floor plan, observe security, and be altogether better prepared for a future infiltration. Just barely, I withheld the sly grin from showing upon my lips. As we reached the entrance, Kate strode straight into the inset and brought me along with her, pulling me by the elbow. It appeared that foot traffic in and out was common enough that the heavy doors were left open, but this was not an indicator of security. For as we entered the inlet, striding up to the door, I could not fail to notice the murder holes above us and the windows offering advantageous positions to fire upon any intruder. The fifteen feet from the start of the tower to the door felt much longer than they were, as I could not help but count the number of ways we could be murdered with each step. There was even a springiness to the flagstones beneath our feet, indicating potential traps. A lesser person might have broken out into a sweat. Kate stepped first through the doorway, bringing me along behind her. ¡°Name yourself!¡± A woman called once we cleared the entryway. ¡°You know me, Em,¡± Kate said, scoffing. I caught sight of the speaker, a High Knight wearing a half-plate with an arming sword and small crossbow. She held the crossbow at the ready, though pointed downwards. It seemed she was obeying some manner of trigger discipline. ¡°Perhaps,¡± the knight, named Em, said. ¡°But it¡¯s procedure.¡± Em pointed towards me, ¡°and I don¡¯t recognize your guest.¡± ¡°Easy, Em.¡± Kate tried soothing Em and flashing a winning smile. ¡°Jackie¡¯s with me. We¡¯ve been training together under Blackrest.¡± Em scoffed. ¡°As if that¡¯s credentials to enter. Might even be more of a mark against her even, considering how Phillip behaves these days.¡± The conversation was turning awkward, and I was out of my depth with both Em and the procedure¡¯s Em was referencing. So I left it to Kate, trusting her to gain us admittance. Instead, I focused on the entryway. Behind us were the iron doors, held open by a latching mechanism. Judging by the gears, and the lever to the side, I thought the doors would slam shut in case of emergency. Which meant they were weighted to swing closed, as I saw no other gears to move the doors themselves. In the hallway we found ourselves in, the walls stood roughly ten feet apart, but closed in at several bottlenecks with sweeping angles. The knight Em, dressed in uniform, breastplate, and greaves, stood near the lever to release the doors. As there were several window ports into the entryway, and a continuance of murderholes above us, I could only assume that a second lever existed beyond the entryway, in the case that whoever stood in Em¡¯s position was disabled. ¡°Emmmm,¡± Kate complained, ¡°She¡¯s with me, we¡¯re just visiting the library, and I won¡¯t let her out of my sight.¡± ¡°Hm,¡± Em said, considering. The crossbow had yet to be fully lowered. ¡°Oh c¡¯mon!¡± Kate said, exasperated. ¡°There¡¯s no rule that says I can¡¯t escort someone in.¡± ¡°Only if there¡¯s a reason. And it needs approval,¡± Em said. When Kate went to protest, Em held up a finger. ¡°But! But, given who you are¨C¡± ¡°-and who my mother is?¡± Kate said, switching to a satisfied smirk, though I felt it was slightly premature. ¡°-I suppose I¡¯ll allow it,¡± Em said. ¡°But you had better watch your guest. Any trouble she gets in is on you. Hear me?¡± Em glared, as though to drive her point home. Not that it made a lasting impression. ¡°Yeah, I hear ya,¡± Kate said. She turned to me and grinned, ¡°See? We¡¯re good! Now c¡¯mon!¡± Kate pulled me off towards the hallway to the right, where we found the first closed door, which Kate pushed open without trouble. It seemed to have been left unlocked. I wondered if that was always the case, or just during regular hours. We passed three turns, two flights of stairs up, five more turns, another flight of stairs down, and two more turns. Were I not focusing on keeping track, I likely would have lost track. The fortress had been built as a maze, likely as a defensive measure. It proved all the more value to this excursion as I was coming away with a mental model of the place. Benignly as possible, I fished for some information. ¡°Is the library much further?¡± I asked. ¡°Not really, why?¡± Kate said. Truthfully, I was gauging the extent of the maze by her answer. However, that was not what I said, instead giving a less-truthful answe.: ¡°At this rate,¡± I said, ¡°I worry I might miss my evening shift.¡± ¡°Haah,¡± Kate said. ¡°Nah, we¡¯re almost there.¡± She pulled me down a left turn, where we passed a kunbeor scrubbing the plain stone walls with a wet rag. Kate¡¯s eyes glossed over the woman, as though the slave was merely furniture, or less than. My own eyes lingered on the kunbeor¡¯s leather collar. While the collar gave more comfort than one made of cold-iron, at the end of the day it was still a mark of enforced servitude. My steps paused slightly enough that Kate unintentionally jerked me forward as she continued walking. ¡°For being worried about being late,¡± Kate remarked, noticing the slight strain on her arm, but either not noticing or not caring that I stumbled to catch my balance. ¡°You sure are dawdling all a sudden.¡± ¡°Sorry,¡± I said, averting my eyes from the kunbeor. ¡°My mind was on something else.¡± ¡°Hm. Well, if we hurry, I wanna show you something later.¡± I hoped that it was not her genitalia that she wished to show me, but one never knew with Sir Kate Guardson. Another turn and stairway up left us at a hallway lined with windows on one side, and a polished wooden door on the other. I wanted to pause and glance out the window, but Kate pulled me along, not allowing me to stop and gawk at the vista. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Kate said as she pressed towards the door. ¡°We¡¯ll see a better view later. That view¡¯s just towards the city.¡± She pushed open the dark-stained door. ¡°And¨C¡± she made a slight bow ¡°-the garrison library.¡± She grinned as she watched me enter ahead of her. I took it all in almost immediately. There was no counter, no clerk, nor surly librarian. There were two tables with ratty cloth chairs, several artificed lamps, and no more than eight bookshelves, with only seven full of books, and the eighth only had a single row filled at the bottom. ¡°Pretty great, yeah?¡± Kate bragged. I nodded slowly, trying to check my assumptions at the door, both to avoid worsening my relations, and also to avoid revealing more of my past than I wished to. But truthfully, I was underwhelmed. ¡°Indeed,¡± I said. ¡°I have not seen such a collection of books.¡± I twisted my language, avoiding a direct lie. For it was true, I had never seen that exact gathering of books. And if it were to be compared with a private home¡¯s library, it certainly would be impressive. ¡°Do we have the place to ourselves, then?¡± I asked, wondering how well used, or dis-used, the library stood. ¡°Hm?¡± Kate said. ¡°Maybe? But I know what you¡¯re thinking, and we can¡¯t take advantage of it.¡± She gave me a salacious glance, which left my stomach twisting in a mostly unwelcome fashion. ¡°Besides, we¡¯re here for a reason, yeah?¡± ¡°That is true,¡± I said, a mix of relief and disappointment. ¡°You mentioned books covering Glyphs for the Academy?¡± ¡°Right,¡± Kate agreed. She walked to one of the less dusty bookshelves and ran a finger over several titles before pulling a worn book. ¡°And here. Catalog of Glyphs and Sigils a Crown sanctioned Sacred Artist can do.¡± She dropped the inch-thick leather backed book on a table, motioning for me to sit in a chair, while pulling another around to put it beside my own. Sitting casually, she flipped open the book, flapping the cover on the table with disregard for wear and tear. She was quite vigorous as she thumbed through the pages. While I watched, I could not help but wonder how many pages she tore when she read. As I read over her shoulder though, I saw a great many Glyphs flash by, with their names and descriptions ranging from useless to quite alluring. There were Marks of Acuity and Marks of Measurement, Glyphs of Iron Skin and one of Bounding Jumps. There was one for Night Vision and another for Thermal Sight. I saw a few that I thought might synergize well with my current build. ¡°What are you looking for, currently?¡± I asked Kate, watching her pass by another section that looked interesting. If I ever had the chance, I would likely try to get a copy of this catalog for myself. Or this copy, should I ever have the opportunity to steal it. ¡°Glyphs of Grace,¡± Kate said, before mumbling, ¡°Or something like that. They should be all about the same section¡­ I think¡­¡± Given that some of the Glyphs we passed by sounded promising, such as a Greater Glyph of Unending Endurance, I wanted to challenge the idea of pigeon-holing myself into a Grace or Grace adjacent Mark. Because, at the end of the day, I did not need to attend the Academy. But I did need to advance my capabilities. I would rather progress with a more optimal Mark than waste a slot to fulfill an onerous requirement from the Academy. ¡°Are we certain it needs to be Grace?¡± I proposed, attempting to sound soft, and perhaps trepidacious. Kate furrowed her brows, silently, before nodding to herself. ¡°You¡¯re worried it¡¯ll be dumb, right?¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°Pardon?¡± I asked, thought that did, indeed, sound near my concerns. ¡°The Mark? That since it¡¯s got Grace in the name, it¡¯ll be weak. So you¡¯re angling for something a bit more¡­ useful? Feisty? Better for getting stuff done in an aggressive manner.¡± She nodded again as she finished stringing those words together, as though she accomplished eloquence. ¡°Perhaps I am slightly worried,¡± I admitted. ¡°Which is why I wonder how rigorous these requirements are.¡± ¡°Preeetty rigorous,¡± Kate said. ¡°It¡¯s not just tradition. It¡¯s the Mark that¡¯s best aligned with what they¡¯ll teach ya, so you¡¯ll collect the best return on advancement.¡± ¡°In theory, could I not pick a less applicable Mark and suffer through the inefficiency?¡± I asked. ¡°To a point,¡± Kate said. ¡°But that won¡¯t fly with the instructors.¡± ¡°Is there a reason for that?¡± ¡°Told ya already. Tradition.¡± Kate leaned back in her chair, catching herself with feet under the table, while she reached the bookshelf and grabbed a faded book from the shelf. ¡°If you need proof, read through this. I don¡¯t recommend it, it¡¯s dry as the Wastes, but it¡¯s in there.¡± I glanced at the book¡¯s title: Royal History of the Kwin Academy The book was two inches thick, and seemed counterproductive to my overall purposes. I doubted I could make any serious headway in reading it either, at least not with the time I had available at the library. Even skimming through it would be questionable. WIthout intending to, I frowned at the book. ¡°Smart!¡± Kate said, laughter in her voice as she saw me furrow my brows. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t read it either. But gods, you shouldn¡¯t worry about getting a useless Mark. We¡¯ll be sure to find a good one for you. Besides, it¡¯s how you use them that determines growth, not necessarily their name.¡± I licked my lips slowly, considering. I could push for something more useful, and potentially burn my opportunity with the Academy. This might result in losing the chance to gain the Mark in the first place, as the excuse to go through this effort with Kate and the Crown sanctioned Sacred Artist was the Academy in the first place. Which would ultimately delay my progression. If it were only a minor delay, the potential cost in efficiency might be worth it. But I could not guarantee when I would have the next chance of receiving a high quality Mark. And the matter of efficiency with a Mark of Grace might not even be that poor either, depending on what we found. ¡°Let¡¯s see the Marks of Grace then,¡± I said, giving in to the implicit demands upon me. Kate finished finding the section in the catalog. ¡°Here!¡± She said, pointing at several of them. ¡°Take a gander at these. Just ignore the Sigils and Lesser Glyphs. Straight to the Greater. Anything else will hamstring your growth.¡± I scanned down the list. The first few were focused on enhancing attributes in ¡®graceful¡¯ manners. The base of the Mark was typically a physical enhancement, with growth tending towards ¡®graceful¡¯ actions. It left me wondering just how much of that growth was directed by self-perceptions, and how much by the perceptions of the Mark¡¯s design. Which brought up another question: Did the Sacred Artist¡¯s perception of what ¡®Grace¡¯ is affect the Mark¡¯s growth? Something to consider, but for now, irrelevant. I continued reading through the list. Dexterous Grace: Greater Glyph for Insightful Flexibility. Bend, do not break. Most often advances along physical enhanced activities. Growth similar to Graceful Movements. Strong Grace: Greater Glyph of Tension. Steel to silk; firm to soft. Most often advances along speed enhanced guided activities. Growth similar to a physical aspect of Dances through Courtly Battles. Spiritual Grace: Greater Glyph of Spiritual Communion. Soothe and mend. Most often advances one¡¯s intangible energy supplies, useful as a secondary to those demanding high Spirit usage. Has shown flexible growth patterns: see Battery Siphons; Physicians; Sorcerers. Mindful Grace: Greater Glyph of Mind with a flavor of maneuvering about accepted restrictions. The head turned by the neck. Most often advances mental attributes required for high intelligence service and support work. Has shown flexible growth patterns: see Greater Glyph of Mind. ¡°What¡¯s with the Greater Glyph in all of these listings?¡± I asked. ¡°It¡¯s the base of the Mark. The only Glyph that¡¯s guaranteed, though its effects aren¡¯t always the same, and the growth depends on the underlying patterns. Basically, it¡¯s as close as you can get to a guaranteed ability, other than handicapping yourself with a sigil.¡± Graceful Movements: Greater Glyph of Travel Abstract. Depends heavily on perceptions and hurdles presented. Tends towards motion based growth, which covers a broad array of possibilities: see Abstract Marks. With Athletics and Gymnastics, I already had movement covered. Travel could always be better, but other than developing the ability to fly or teleport, I failed to see how this Mark would improve my build. Artful Tongue and Cheek: Greater Glyph of Language. Speak, be understood. Most often advances one¡¯s ability to communicate effectively. Has been known to couple with compulsion based effects. Has been known to pair well with musical based Talents. For additional references, see Bardic Marks. ¡°This sounds promising,¡± I said, pointing at the communication based ability. ¡°Being able to affect others with words could be useful¡­¡± Leaving off the potential of manipulations. Kate made a face, before some perverted thought dawned upon her, at least judging by the growing salacious grin. ¡°And I could always find use for a well-skilled tongue,¡± she said, waggling her eyebrows. I groaned, ¡°Nevermind.¡± I kept looking. Service of Ideal Silence: Greater Glyph of Slavery Abstract. Quietly perform as needs done. Depends heavily on perceptions of tasks presented by recognized authority. Tends towards highly competent service, depending on mental alacrity. Growth carries risks for deviant results: see Deranged Perceptions & Risks. See Abstract Marks. ¡°Disgusting,¡± I said, barely audible in the scoff I made at the same time. ¡°Don¡¯t knock it,¡± Kate said with a shrug. ¡°That one opens a ton of doors.¡± I shuddered, ¡°Even then, no thanks.¡± Hidden Blades and Beauty Seen: Greater Glyph of Glamour Abstract. Conceal the unsightly. Tends towards pleasure based pursuits; Tends towards outwards manipulations; Tends towards either high Body OR high Spirit requirements. See Abstract Marks. ¡°An assassin¡¯s Mark?¡± I asked, dubious that this fell under the Grace school, and that it was just there, available, when obviously the Mark was geared towards malicious activities. ¡°Not really?¡± Kate said. ¡°But kinda sorta? It¡¯s an Abstract one,¡± she said, pointing at the word. ¡°That means its growth, development, and starting point, all of it depends on a person¡¯s beliefs and perception of reality. It¡¯s not like the Mark¡¯s sapient on its own, yeah? Still though, it¡¯d be a good one. Especially since you¡¯re wanting to get the most outta it.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll take that under consideration,¡± I said. If the Mark really could grow in any direction, then it likely would fit into any build I decided upon. Songs of Merry and Rhetoric: Greater Glyph of Harmony Abstract. Sing, force merry. Most often advances towards musical pursuits; in some cases, towards manipulative Talents; most often innocuous. Pairs well with entertainment focuses. See Abstract Marks. See List of Archetypes: Bards, Entertainers, Rabble Rousers. This Mark was all about drawing attention towards oneself, which while it could be useful, tended to be the exact opposite of what I wanted to do. Pass. Dances through Courtly Battles: Greater Glyph of Dance Abstract. Quick tongue, faster foot. Most often advances towards poise, either in movements, insights, or language. Pairs well with most physical and social pursuits. Has flexible growth patterns: see Abstract Marks. The last one was abstract as well, but came with an interesting start. It sounded like it could be dextrous, with the ability to tweak people with either words or otherwise out-maneuvering them. And while I wanted to avoid another movement based pattern, I was currently lacking in abilities both to incapacitate and protect myself. I thought that this one could provide those options. ¡°I¡¯m leaning towards the one for Dancing,¡± I said, thinking aloud to ensure Kate knew I was considering. Kate almost grimaced, but not quite. ¡°Maybe pick a second,¡± she said. ¡°In case the first isn¡¯t possible?¡± ¡°I thought the list was for all Crown sanctioned Sacred Artists?¡± ¡°Well yeah, but there¡¯s a lotta art involved, yeah? Best to always have a back up plan.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± I said. ¡°Then I suppose my second pick would be Hidden Blades.¡± ¡°Sounds promising,¡± Kate said, with a gleam in her eye. ¡°Should pair well with that battle-ribbon of yours. Or even better if you ever picked up a blade.¡± For an instant, I recalled the Red Queen¡¯s eyes as she bled out, as I plunged a crystal dagger through her¨C I shuddered, quickly changing the subject. ¡°Now that we¡¯ve selected a potential Mark and a backup for it, what now?¡± I asked. ¡°Well, we know the design¡­¡± Kate said, trailing off with some excitement as she flipped to an appendix at the back of the catalog. ¡°So the only thing left to do, is to choose¡­¡± she reached her destination and pointed to the start of a several page long addendum ¡°...the ink!¡± I took a glance at the listing of what appeared to be a mixture of precious stones and concepts. ¡°And¡­ remind me what this is for, again?¡± Kate rolled her eyes. ¡°We¡¯ve been over this,¡± she said. ¡°The base ink, carbon, would add nothing extra, but it wouldn¡¯t cost any extra either. Getting a flame aspected ink would mean a potential weakness to earth aspects, while earth aspects might be weak to something else.¡± ¡°Then why bother with an aspect, if that¡¯s introducing a weakness.¡± ¡°They¡¯re stronger,¡± Kate said simply. ¡°Plus, the specialized inks tend to grow further than non specialized ones do. Would you rather be a generic sword-master, or a flaming sword-master?¡± She asked, waggling her eyebrows. ¡°It¡¯s always you and swords,¡± I complained, to which she grinned. ¡°I¡¯m not hearing you disagree,¡± she said. ¡°These specialized inks are for sure better overall?¡± ¡°Yep,¡± Kate said firmly. ¡°Otherwise they wouldn¡¯t cost so much.¡± ¡°How much?¡± I asked, remembering firmly that I was broke. ¡°Ehhhh¡­.¡± Kate scratched the back of her neck again. ¡°Why don¡¯t you pick your favorite out first, then we¡¯ll figure it out.¡± And so, I read through the list. The items were listed in no particular order, at least not that I could tell. The first was Carbon, which was listed as a Neutral, followed by Osseous and Vegetal bases, also Neutral. In fact, I thought that I had just discovered the seeming order of the list. ¡°Just ignore the top bit,¡± Kate murmured, just as I started going down it. ¡°That¡¯s all the cheap and useless stuff.¡± She bumped me, leaning over and pointing about halfway down the list. ¡°Start about there.¡± I shrugged, considering most of the catalog was alien to me regardless. Though, it might have been nice to have read through more of it. Sunstone: Solar Affinity derives from pre-breaking. Adjacent Concepts: warmth, life, health. Lolite: Mimicry Affinity. Adjacent Concepts: transitions, the ephemeral, beauty. ¡°These seem a bit vague,¡± I complained. ¡°What effect does this ¡®Affinity¡¯ actually have? And what of these ¡®Adjacent Concepts?¡¯ What do these even mean? How can anyone make use of this list beyond just an educated guess?¡± Kate huffed. ¡°It¡¯s called Sacred Art for a reason,¡± she said. ¡°This is probably the best anyone can get, beyond examples, which don¡¯t really matter since everyone¡¯s different. Take the Sweord Glyph. Every knight has one. But the way it grows, and the benefits it brings? Figuring that out¡¯s probably more difficult than describing color to a blind man. The best we can get is the jist of it, and that¡¯s exactly what we have here. The jist.¡± ¡°Helpful,¡± I said dryly, before pointing at Lolite on the page. ¡°Then this Mimicry Affinity. What¡¯s that about?¡± ¡°Probably blending in, maybe? Or pretending to be something? Anywhere along those lines, would be my guess, with an emphasis on fluidness and lookin good.¡± I wanted to stare at her and ask, ¡®really?¡¯ But I refrained. Instead, I paused for a moment, before asking, ¡°Is that really the most information we can get concerning each one?¡± Kate shrugged, ¡°Well, examples might work. If you find someone similar to you, in body, mind, and spirit, who got the exact same Mark from the exact same Artist with the exact same Ink, you might be able to guess what you¡¯ll get. But even then? Studies¡¯ve been done, and even then it¡¯s not exact. There¡¯s variables we don¡¯t really understand.¡± Internally, I groaned. ¡°Fine,¡± I said instead, resuming my attention upon the list, making note of the most interesting or promising. Serpentine: Dual Affinity: Change, Wisdom. Adjacent Concepts: preservation, renewal. ¡°Dual Affinities?¡± I asked, almost groaned. ¡°It¡¯s almost like they¡¯re not even trying.¡± ¡°Haaa¡­ yeah¡­¡± Kate responded, almost chagrined. ¡°Might wanna skip those.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°They tend to be even more expensive,¡± Kate said. ¡°Are they that much better?¡± I asked, wondering who kept stock of such valuable gems, and if their theft would be traced back towards me if I stole them. ¡°Mmmaybe?¡± Kate said. ¡°They give more freedom to grow, but not sure if they¡¯re that better.¡± ¡°How would that fail to be a definite improvement over the other stones?¡± I asked. She shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s more uncertainty with that freedom. For example with Serpentine. Are you focusing on changing or on being all wise ¡®n stuff? If you want one over the other, then Serpentine prolly isn¡¯t what you want. If you want some Glyphs one way, some the other, or if you wanna do a hybrid? Then Serpentine works. It¡¯s just hardly ever someone wants some wishy-washy build like that.¡± ¡°If it¡¯s not that desirable, then why would it cost an exorbitant amount?¡± I asked. Kate shrugged. ¡°Because of alchemy, maybe? Or it¡¯s good for artifice?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t know, do you.¡± ¡°No¡­¡± Painite: Blood Affinity. Adjacent Concepts: fluid, sickness. Painite disturbed my sensibilities in so many ways. Sphaelerite (blackjack): Treacherous Affinity. Adjacent Concepts: wealth, water. This one seemed useful, though how would people respond if they knew I had an affinity for treachery? Would they know? Questions to consider. Danburite: Dual Affinity: Intelligence, Perception. Adjacent Concepts: clarity, speed, dexterity. Useful. Intelligence and Perception would always be useful, especially if Danburite offered some nature of middle ground, using or providing both. Chromite: Dual Affinity: Poison, Beauty. Adjacent Concepts: flexibility, softness, welcome. Perhaps not. Obsidian: Brittle Affinity. Adjacent Concepts: heat, dark, strength. Brittleness did not at first glance appear desirable. Nor at the second or third glance. Moonstone: Reflection Affinity. Adjacent Concepts: cold, bright, shadow s. Moonstone could be useful, given my Talents and Spells. I could easily visualize how I could take advantage of reflections to enhance my Illusions or my Stealth. ¡°So?¡± Kate asked. I tore my eyes off the list. ¡°It¡¯s tough to say, with how vague everything is.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°Yeah, but of the general ¡®feelings¡¯ of the inks, which do you think matches your prospective Marks the best?¡± ¡°I saw one or two that seemed¡­ interesting,¡± I said, thinking of Blackjack. ¡°But still¡­ how much would they cost, and more importantly, can people tell which ink was used?¡± Kate waggled her hand. ¡°They can tell a little bit, yeah. The material changes the pigment, but it¡¯s not usually a sure thing, at least not from just looking at the Mark. Otherwise people would keep their Marks covered all the time. For the price though? Depends. Which ones are you thinking.¡± I paused, hesitant to actually admit to wanting the stone with the Affinity for Treachery. She wheedled, ¡°C¡¯monnnnn, tell me!¡± I rolled my eyes and spoke a partial truth. ¡°Moonstone seems promising. So did Danburite.¡± ¡°Not Chromite? Don¡¯t wanna be a poisonous beauty?¡± she asked, hopefully joking. I grimaced at the thought. ¡°As tempting as it sounds¨C¡± ¡°-it actually pairs really well with Grace,¡± Kate added, cutting me off. ¡°Especially for the more assassin-ish builds. Just sayin¡­¡± ¡°...no,¡± I said. ¡°I have no inclination to murder.¡± ¡°Your loss,¡± Kate said, hopefully joking. ¡°So just Moonstone and Danbuirte then?¡± she asked, tapping her chin. ¡°Well, the second one, I can tell you right now, is godslovin¡¯ expensive. Rare as can be, and pretty popular as is.¡± ¡°What of Moonstone?¡± I asked. ¡°That, you could probably find a good source of. You know how to check for material quality?¡± No, I did not. ¡°Just don¡¯t go cheap. And make sure the Sacred Artist is the one to grind it. Don¡¯t go wasting money on pre-made pigment. So many scams that way.¡± That sounded like good advice. I had not realized there were grades of quality on stones, though, in hindsight, that did make sense. ¡°Alright, now finally¨C¡± Kate started. ¡°-there¡¯s more?!¡± I asked, already feeling as though we had been here for quite a while. ¡°I¡¯ll be late for my shift at this rate. What time is it even?¡± ¡°Relax,¡± Kate said, sneaking her arm around my shoulders and squeezing. ¡°We¡¯ve got plenty o¡¯ time still. An¡¯ this part¡¯ll go quick. Promise.¡± I almost shrugged her arm off, but decided that her arm was tolerable, in Kate¡¯s oafish manner. ¡°So transmittance metals,¡± Kate continued. ¡°We only got a couple to choose from, but we need to get the best we can get.¡± ¡°What are the options, and what does a ¡®transmittance metal¡¯ do?¡± ¡°Think of them like pipes surrounding the ink. The bigger the pipe, the better the flow.¡± Similar to conductivity, perhaps? I thought. ¡°Cheapest is Copper and Aluminum. Kinda the all-rounder. In the middle is Silver ¡®n Gold. All of them decent and fairly easy to get. Towards the more elite end you¡¯ve got the High versions of the same metals, plus maybe Mercury ¡®n Platinum.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but ¡®High?¡¯ What is that, exactly?¡± I asked. I was fairly certain I had encountered High Silver previously with the Myst Egg bound to my ribs, at least according to the Inquisitor¡¯s little torture session. I shuddered at the brief memory of that bit of powerlessness. ¡°Yep,¡± she said. ¡°Straight from the Firmaments.¡± I gave her a curious glance. The Firmament was the consistent overcast sky, the cloud cover that never broke. If the metals came from there, then did that mean they were meteorites? Such as the ancient ¡®sky-iron?¡¯ ¡°Where are those reliably found then?¡± I asked. Kate shrugged, ¡°Mines. Go deep enough, and you hit ¡®em.¡± I was not quite sure what to make of that in regards to geological surveys and history, but I decided to accept it at the time being as their source had a limited effect. ¡°Don¡¯t worry much though. You can find ¡®em in the Mercantile Quarter, if you look hard enough. Expensive though.¡± ¡°About how much will I require?¡± I asked. ¡°Uhm¡­ a vial of it?¡± Kate asked, clearly not knowing the proper unit of measure. ¡°Very well. I shall strive for a High Metal. But out of curiosity, how much of a detriment would it be to rely upon a more common variety?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s just say if ya go with Copper, then you might as well go with Carbon as well.¡± As she said that, and with much irreverence, she flipped the book closed and pushed it away. ¡°Now! There¡¯s something I really wanted to show you.¡± I winced. ¡°It¡¯s not in your pants, I hope?¡± I said. She coughed, ¡°Whaa?¡± she said. ¡°Pffsht, no, course not. I mean. Not unless¡­?¡± she gave me a questionable glance. ¡°No,¡± I said firmly, before remembering to be polite. ¡°But thank you for the offer.¡± ¡°Well, good. Cuz that¡¯s not what I was gonna show you, anyways.¡± I gave a terse nod. ¡°Very well. Is whatever you wanted to show me in this room?¡± I asked. She shook her head, standing up and abruptly pulling me up to my feet as well. ¡°Nah. Just follow me. Don¡¯t wanna ruin the surprise.¡± ¡°...lovely,¡± I said, following her out from the small library. At the very least, I thought, I would get to see more of the fortress. Five right turns, three lefts, two flights up, one down, three more up, and we reached our destination. Kate unbarred a door and pushed it outwards, revealing a gray sky covering a wind-swept balcony. We stood only three yards from the balustrade. Already, from what I had seen, I wondered, if perhaps, a particularly strong gust of wind could carry me up and away. I wondered, if perhaps, my Talent of Featherlight might not be such a boon. Kate threw her arm back around my shoulders, beginning to pull me forward to the edge. I found myself clinging to her, if slightly, especially as the wind flared up and whipped my hair and jacket about. ¡°Beautiful, huh?¡± Kate said. We reached the edge. Ordinarily, I would never feel this way. My Talents in climbing, combined with Inversion, mean that heights fail to impress me, at least under ordinary circumstances. But these, these were not ordinary circumstances. My knees shook, and I pressed more tightly into Kate¡¯s side. My jaw hung open. Stretching out before us was the Chasm. Other than the bridge to our right, there was nothing before us. The haze of atmosphere left the distance murky, and just barely could I see a shadow that might have been a horizon. But it also might not have been. To our left, far in the distance, the Cliff on the Midden¡¯s side of the Chasm could be seen wrapping off in the distance. Far below us, in the cliff walls, there were a series of ramps, pulleys, and elevators carrying ores up and consumables down. And that was it. Further down, it was just more cliff, until eventually, what must have been miles down, there was nothing but fog. It felt as though we stood on the edge of the world. ¡°So?¡± Kate asked. I shook myself from my reverie, and pulled away from her slightly. I schooled myself. I could not show such weakness. ¡°Whatchya think?¡± she asked, detracting from the awesome sight. ¡°I take it you don¡¯t have a fear of heights?¡± I said wryly. ¡°Ha¡­ well, the first few times I came up here maybe. But like I was gonna let anything like that boss me around. I showed it.¡± ¡°Showed it?¡± ¡°My fears. You gotta fight them, show them their place. Can¡¯t let them rule you.¡± I nodded slowly, ¡°I expected nothing less from you.¡± We continued to gaze out into the void for minutes. It was a time sink, perhaps a frivolous waste, but the sight was impressive. Taking Kate¡¯s advice, I placed my hands against the stone balustrade and I leaned forward, so that my head hung over the edge. But this time did not necessarily need to be wasteful. ¡°Kate,¡± I said. She leaned a bit in closer, watching me with far too much intent. I could not help but notice her lips glisten. ¡°Where is this Sacred Artist, and how do I go about gaining their services?¡± Kate deflated slightly. ¡°Well¡­ this week? I¡¯ll get you penned in for sure in a couple days, but¡­¡± ¡°But?¡± ¡°Like I said, it¡¯ll be expensive. And you¡¯ll need to get the materials on your own¡­¡± I nodded, already worrying about ways that I could quickly gain wealth. I doubted there were any unlocked safes laying around in manors with thousands of Chargers waiting for sticky little hands. ¡°I would try to get a discount for you, but I probably can¡¯t get the Knights to pay for anything, not unless you wanna join?¡± She added in an uncharacteristically tight voice and wince. I shook my head, ¡°Sadly, I find no interest for a long term commitment at this time. Did you have any other ideas for quickly gaining wealth? And how certain are you that I can get this appointment?¡± ¡°Very certain,¡± Kate quickly said. ¡°Maybe not the discount. But the appointment itself, for sure. As for the funding, we can get you registered for Merc work!¡± I gave a nonplussed stare. ¡°Truly?¡± I asked. ¡°You think they would have such a high value job on such short demand that could be accomplished in such a quick turn around time that would be either possible or anything but incredibly lethal?¡± ¡°Well¡­ it¡¯s just a thought. There was another way too¡­¡± ¡°We are brainstorming ideas, Sir Kate. Please, don¡¯t refrain.¡± ¡°What if we head down to the Pits, I can enroll in a fight, and you can gamble on me. Or, we could do it vice-versa.¡± ¡°Pits?¡± ¡°It¡¯s the arenas in the slums. Street fights type stuff. Well, I guess technically they¡¯re in pits? But yeah. I go there all the time.¡± Considering the issues I had had in the past with the Garnets, one of the Pit Crews, a gang operating in that area, I thought it best to refrain. ¡°Perhaps that can be my backup plan then,¡± I hedged. ¡°But I might have options to gain enough wealth on my own.¡± ¡°Hopefully not¡­ you know¡­¡± Kate said. ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°Like your ¡®big-sis¡¯ Esmerelda?¡± Kate said, emphasizing Esmerelda¡¯s own self-deprecating and hopefully humorous endearment. When Kate thought I might not be tracking her insinuations, she came out bluntly and added, ¡°Ya know¡­ whoring?¡± ¡°I assumed that was what you alluded to,¡± I said dryly. ¡°Rest assured, that is not on the table.¡± I resisted the urge to shiver against the thought. After we brainstormed for several more minutes, I had a few private ideas for gaining the requisite funds, largely independent of anything Kate might know, especially as the best of my ideas were counter to law enforcement. We enjoyed the view off into the Chasm, and then Kate walked me back through the twists and turns and elevation changes until we exited the tower once more. From there we parted, and I quickly made my way back towards Ma¡¯Ritz. That night, I would need to deviate from my normal schedule. Especially if I were to quickly gain those funds. Absorption 2.4.5 Absorption 2.4.5 Night found me perched atop the roof of Ma¡¯Ritz. Evening had come and gone, upon Blossom Hill, darkness was broken intermittently by lamplight, some burning a type of oil, and others implementing artifice. There was a pattern to their placement, with the oil lamps following the main boulevard, and the artificed ones illuminating the sidestreets, if infrequently. But I had not begun my nightshift with the intention of pondering public lighting. No. But I did have plans to make. I had to solidify what I had learned alongside Kate, and decide upon my future here in Southbridge. And truly, I had much to consider. Assuming I attended the Academy, I would require a new Mark, and the Academy required the mark to be relevant to whichever path I chose. According to Kate, and from what I had learned independently since, the most applicable path would be one of Grace. This was also the path that Marianne intended to follow. This path was not terrible, at least if it applied to sleight of hand, legerdemain, and perhaps persuasion. Of course, this was assuming that I received a Greater Mark for either Dances through Courtly Battles or Hidden Blades and Beauty Seen. I was leaning towards the former rather than the latter, for I had previously satiated myself upon death, and I henceforth desired no more. But even then, assuming I attended the Academy, assuming Kate succeeded in scheduling an appointment with a Sacred Artist, that I had a chance to undergo a new Marking, with a desirable ink and conducting metal; even assuming all of this¡­ I would still require the funds to pay for it all. And I needed those funds sooner rather than later. By Kate¡¯s estimations, I had only three days to assemble the materials and Chargers. And while Kate may have offered several potential ideas to raise my wealth from the current meager eight-hundred Chargers that I did have, none of her plans were neither safe nor fast. Fortunately, as I traveled home after learning of this opportunity, I had given this problem some thought. Fortunately, for the problem of gaining funds, I had a unique skill set that I could leverage. It was not yet time for me to implement those skills, though I had an itinerary of targets I wished to hit that night. However, the time for action had yet to come. The impatient thief was caught. From my brooding, I turned my attention towards the men passing by on the street below me. They were one of the incredibly infrequent patrols of peacekeepers that maintained the fiction of order and command along this section of the Hill. Not that the Hill was disorderly¨Cit was nowhere near as bad as the slums¨Cbut there was an obvious criminal element, even here. Otherwise, Ma¡¯Ritz would have no need for my services. I reprimanded myself for treating the peacekeepers incompetence with disdain. Afterall, it would benefit me this night. Keeping a neutral opinion on this branch of law enforcement was difficult. Even as I scolded myself, I felt the twinge of judgment each time I heard their boots landing heavily upon the stone. Wherever they went, they were preceded by clomping echoes of footsteps. It may as well have been a courtesy towards any maleficent ahead of them, alerting them before they clashed. As they passed, noisily, I marked the time. It was just past an hour after when Marianne turned in for the evening, which I knew as she frequently wished me a pleasant shift just before she tucked herself in. It may have been strange, but I had begun looking forward to such check-ins. She reminded me of my younger sister. And hence, the ritual had become a core part of my night that I structured the rest of it around. Now that the peacekeepers had passed by, I could be assured that they would not passby again anytime soon. This allowed me to commit a somewhat suspicious activity. An incredibly suspicious activity, and one that I could not allow my employer to learn of. I began searching through the exterior windows of Ma¡¯Ritz, climbing along the walls, peaking past shutters to track the night-workers¡¯ progress. Because if my plan were to succeed, then I would absolutely want to ensure that no busy-body could find fault in my alibi. In particular, I sought out Tiffany in the windows of the second floor. I desired her location, to verify she was occupied or indisposed. I climbed down the exterior wall of Ma¡¯Ritz that faced a side-street. The adjacent building provided decent cover, along with the cover of darkness. Other than a street lamp along the main thoroughfare, the side-street was un-illuminated. Between that, my Talent regarding Stealth, and the fact that no onlookers were visible, I strongly suspected I was unobserved. Thus, with confidence, I crept along the wall, my hands and feet sticking to the wall, testing for weak spots that might give out beneath my weight. Perhaps unusually, I moved with my legs above me and my arms below me. Truly, I had underappreciated the Sigil for Inversion when I had first received it. In fact, as I learned more of Sigils and Glyphs, I gained much more appreciation for the Mark I currently had. For it was of high quality, and all the Sigils offered great synergy, even if they perhaps lacked some of the tools I might have otherwise chosen. I reached the top corner of the first window. Unlike the shuttered windows of the third floor, the second floor offered glass panels and rich curtains, though the curtains were often left only partially open. The curtains offered clients the option of natural lighting, or perhaps the ability to perform as an exhibitionist, although I expected the second was quite rare. They may have just been an aesthetic taste for those desiring luxurious settings for their¡­ passions. It was a curtain that I found in the first window I peeked through. The cloth was thick enough that I could see nothing of the going-ons of the room. I pressed my ear against the glass, listening for any sign of activity. There may have been some rustling, but otherwise nothing of interest. Clients typically refrained from sleeping in their rooms, though some did choose to. I determined that the room was likely empty. I moved to the second window. This one, the curtains offered a crack of visibility. I found one of the clients sprawled across the silken sheets of the bed, with a bottle of spirits on a side table along with two glasses. It appeared that the man had been left on his own. From his closed eyes, he may have been one of those rare few that stayed the night. The next several windows were much the same, though some did have a working girl in the midst of action. I refused to dawdle at these, for I had no interest in voyeurism. After finishing lurking along the sides of the second floor of Ma¡¯Ritz, I had yet to spot Tiffany. I considered that she might have already turned in for the night, though I doubted it; she seemed rather desperate for funds. I was beginning to wonder if I should call my planned heist off, or at least postpone. For if I could not verify Tiffany¡¯s location, then I could not guarantee that she would not spy upon me or commit other forms of sabotage while I neglected my duties at Ma¡¯Ritz. It would be one thing to be found lurking or patrolling in the vicinity of the brothel. It would be completely another to be found missing entirely. Especially if my absence just happened to coincide with a robbery. So, I continued checking. Another window. This room held two women coupling. I moved on to another window. Even if I failed to find Tiffany, I still required those funds. And the risk that Tiffany offered was likely minimal, or rather, it was only a small increase to risk compared to normal. And even if I did gain eyes on Tiffany, I still could not be certain that she would remain where I spotted her. In fact, as I thought about it further, I wondered if I was not making a mistake in attempting to track her down. I supposed that some naive portion of me had thought I would have found her by now. The next window came. The curtains were widely drawn back, revealing most of the room. A lantern lit the room in a soft and yellow light. A rhythmic thumping could be heard. I was loath to peek in, but I desired to verify if Tiffany was otherwise occupied. I leaned in until just my eyes and forehead poked over the sill. A well curved woman had her back towards the window as she was riding a pair of hairy legs atop the bed. The moment I saw, the woman glanced backwards, over her shoulder, her green eyes quickly catching my own. Her makeup was immaculate and understated. No sweat marred her face. Her straw-green hair maintained its volume. It was Esmerelda Bogswraith. She was looking my way. Our eyes were meeting, even though she should have been blinded by the interior light. I had not intended to allow my gaze to linger. I certainly had no intentions of staring or gawking. The offense could not have lasted more than a second, but a second was enough. She smiled and winked, before turning back towards her client and leaning forward, revealing much. I ducked away, a gasp escaping my lips, my heart racing, fear clouding my thoughts. I remained there, besides the window, for a moment, then a moment longer. The rhythmic thumping sped slightly. Esmerelda made no moves to confront me. But she had seen me, I was certain. Had she recognized me? Even if she failed to do so, it was my remit to guard the place; catching voyeurs would be my responsibility. It took some time to calm myself. But when no further action was made, and as my cheeks cooled in the smoky wind, I crawled back towards the roof, considering just how Esmerelda had known I was lurking outside the window. I had made no noise. I should have been practically invisible, with the room lit, and the exterior so dark. The only explanation I could derive was that Esmerelda had some sort of ability that alerted her to my presence. Whether she recognized me or not, I could not say. Though given her personality, I doubted it would be much of an issue, unless she mentioned it to the madame. I had to assume Esmerelda would keep this indiscretion between us. She had smiled, afterall. And she had invested heavily upon me, working longer hours to pay for my tuition, calling in favors to gain me combat training. Besides, I consoled myself, the curtains had been left wide open. Spying upon them could not have been entirely my fault. Realizing that I had some excuses that I could make, I decided to wait another hour, to see if anything would come of the sighting, to see if anyone would come looking for me. I could afford that much, though it would cut into some of my plans, and it would reduce the number of targets I could hit. Unfortunately, waiting an hour was the minimum amount of time that I had to spend, considering it might take some time for Esmerelda to work her way free from her current client, assuming she wished to speak to me after. I hoped that nothing would come of it. I should have known better than to try spotting Tiffany. Even if I had seen her, other than my own peace of mind that a potential enemy was otherwise occupied, there would have been little in tangible benefits. I had been reckless. The hour passed with further such self castigations; no one interrupted me with questions, accusations, or otherwise. Esmerelda never arrived. Despite my earlier misstep, it appeared I was free to pursue the bulk of my plans. Knowing it was a risk, that I could be discovered missing, I still decided to commit to action. Gains would not be gained otherwise, at least not quickly. I took off running across the rooftop, putting every bit of Athletics and Gymnastics to the test. As I neared the edge of Ma¡¯Ritz, I sprung forward with the greatest leap I could afford. The neighboring building was on the downward side of the slope, meaning that even with the building¡¯s multiple stories, its rooftop still remained beneath my current altitude. I sailed through the air, wind whistling past me, sliding its fingers through my hair, I felt a moment of exhilarating freedom, unbound by any concerns or restraints, with the exception of the quickly approaching landing. My feet hit the angled slate rooftop. Rather than applying immediate force through my feet, I chose to collapse into a roll, somersaulting along the tiles before coming to a stop in a crouch. I paused a second to examine the tiles. None of the tiles so much as cracked with the landing. I had gotten somewhat lucky. Slate roofing tended towards brittle fragility. I arose and stalked to the otherside of the roof, where in a corner, wedged between a support and a lazy turret, I retrieved my empty satchel along with my lockpicks. I slipped the lockpicks into a pocket sewn into the interior of my right sleeve and I resumed my run, angling downwards and westwards, descending Blossom Hill as an invisible specter of the night. As I went, I felt the familiar burn along my right forearm. A Glyph or Sigil had grown, if just a bit. Gymnastics: 4/9 (+1) I continued until I came closer to an upscale market square that served as a focal gathering point for the wealthy residents of Blossom Hill. This was where I would find my targets for this night¡¯s excursion. The square featured several eateries and shops of interest. The shops were what I had decided on. The eateries were unlikely to hold much outside of secure lockboxes and safes, and the only alternative was either wealthy manors or administrative buildings. I had also considered the manors. If the shops were a bust, I would hit several of them the next night. After landing in a narrow walkway between buildings, away from any light-post, I committed to my next step. I took a deep breath, releasing a portion of nervous energy. This would be the first time in ages that I had done this, since arriving in Southbridge. While I had concerns regarding what would happen afterwards, if I was to succeed, then I needed all of the tools in my kit. And in the off chance that someone did catch sight of me during my performance, then it would be better if they failed to recognize me as Jackie the tavern-worker and prospective student. Another deep breath. Another verification that nobody was around. Another moment crouched in the dark and narrow space between shops. It was time. I schooled myself. I dropped my Guise. The perpetual pressure I felt along my spine lessened as my tailbone elongated, making sub-audible clicking sounds from cartilage rubbing against bone. I had prepared for this, having customized my pants with a buttoned seam in the back, providing a variable space for my tail to flow through. As my tail grew, all my skin sent jarring sensory signals, from itching to goosebumps to stinging prickles. Lilac fur sprouted soon after. Suddenly, the world went mute. I had been expecting something of this nature to happen, but it still caught me by surprise. It was as though I was hearing my surroundings from the bottom of a pool; my own heartbeat was the predominant volume. Seconds later, my hearing returned, sharper than ever. This was accompanied by a sharp pressure above and behind my temples. My ears had returned. I had not realized I had missed them. My face cracked and shuddered, my teeth grinded within themselves, sharpening and changing position, following my jaw as it expanded with my noise into a muzzle. Disgusting. A full third of my field of vision had been consumed by the sight of my own nose. The disquieting feeling worsened as my sense of smell and taste exploded in a riot of odors: the pollution from the lower city, smoke, acerbic hints of alchemics, and of course, people. Revolting, but useful. With the enhanced sense of smell and hearing, my mind struggled to remember how to handle the volume and nuance of this rich sensory feedback. A headache accompanied this task, almost a migraine, though shorter and sharper. My stomach squirmed in discomfort. My tongue felt fat and gross. The changes worsened as my humanity fled me. What little breasts I had disappeared, changing the fit of my tunic and jacket. The mammaries shifted beneath my skin, my nipples divided further, three to a side. I shuddered at the change. It was my least favorite aspect of this form. I quickly distracted myself by focusing on my throbbing headache, though that had begun to fade already, leaving me forced to comprehend the unwelcome changes. My fingertips elongated slightly, the keratin of my nails thickened and extended into fixed talons, ones which could not be withdrawn. My toes changed. My foot shifted and groaned as tarsals rearranged themselves such that my foot seemed to have another joint within; one of my toes relocated in a different form, reminiscent of a dew-claw. Fortunately, my boots were soft leather and tied loosely. At the very least, I was not forced to see my bare feet and their inhumanity. When all was said and done, the changes required more than ten seconds to conclude; the headache required another minute to fully lift. While I waited on the headache, I limbered and stretched. Of course, my false-arm was always limber, being composed of tendrils and a gelatinous semi-solid substance. My tail swayed behind me, rising up and over my head, adding both weight and air resistance to my movements. The tail would provide versatility in movement, but also could serve as a hindrance. Especially as I had not practiced parkour or gymnastics with the tail. I hoped it would come naturally and increase my ability to maneuver, especially mid-air. But deep down, I knew the hope was naive. I would need to practice with the tail and relearn this horrific body. But the body was only temporary. As soon as I completed this job, I could resume my Guise and shift back into a human form. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The job needed to be completed as soon as possible. I prowled back towards the top of a building to gain a vantage of the upscale market square. I scanned the shops. I had already scouted the square on previous excursions, and I had a solid idea of how I would infiltrate several of the shops. But even with the prepwork, a last minute check felt prudent. To my right, several shopfronts shared the same two storied building. One shop sold customized leather belts, satchels, and accessories. That shop carried items that would offer a poor value to volume ratio, though I had no doubt that some of the wares would be useful. But tonight I was focused upon maximizing wealth, not utility. In that same shared building, a more promising shopfront could generously be termed an apothecary. It sold high end consumables, such as lotions, soaps, medicine, and verified alchemical solutions. While I had never visited the interior of this specific shop, from what I had seen through the windows, the medicinal and alchemical shelves were prized and guarded behind the clerk¡¯s counter. While I was no expert on these specific vials, I believed that the right substances, to the right buyers, would bring a tremendous value to volume ratio. A good fence could find buyers for such items, assuming their practicality and use. There were several other shops in this attached building, but only one other was a potential target. This final target was an outlet for premium union-made artificed tools. Artificed tools required lit Chargers to function, providing an immediate source of fungible goods. Additionally, artificed tools were notoriously expensive. The shop likely offered the best value to volume ratio in the entire square, and it was one of the major reasons I had chosen to target this particular building. However, the shop also employed the most thorough security, from locked security gates to a dedicated peacekeeper standing in front. This sentry was in addition to the regular patrol of peacekeepers that patrolled and ¡®protected¡¯ the entire market square and its surrounding neighborhood. It was mostly the sentry I would need to avoid, though he had been foolishly emplaced to the front of the building, not even guarding from within the shop. I darted across rooftops and leapt across walkways and streets until I arrived upon the roof of my targeted building. I headed towards a skylight that opened to the second floor, though I suspected the second floor was not dedicated to any one shop. I expected it to hold a communal space for the building, with rentable rooms, workplaces, and perhaps storage. In fact, I was banking on that suspicion that the second floor was shared. However, once I reached a skylight, one of many, I hit my first obstacle. I had hoped that the skylights were of the openable sort. But as I closely inspected them, I found that they were solidly connected to the rooftop. And while this was not a complete barrier to entry, my options were too noisy or time consuming. But before giving up on this means of entry, I ran my knife along the seam connecting the frame to the ceiling. While the seam gave out in places, my knife caught on more than one obstruction¨Clikely nails holding the frame to a foundation. Unfortunate, but within the realms of my planned contingencies. I resheathed my knife and chose to leave the skylight alone, at least for now. Instead, I headed towards the edge of the roof, crouched to reduce my profile, though that precaution felt superfluous with the inattentive security and the darkness of night. Still, I remained cautious. A foolish thief is a poor one. From my vantage, I quickly checked the positions of the peacekeepers. A duo of them was heading away from me, towards an inlet to one of the sidestreets. That left the single peacekeeper sentry guarding the exterior of the artificer¡¯s. Notably, that remaining guard was holding a small lantern to a pocket-sized booklet. It was too far away for me to read the contents, but every once in a while he read a line aloud. It sounded like mumbled poetry. My impression of the man was raised slightly. Only slightly. With his attention taken up by reading, however, his nighteye would be nil to non existent. At least, assuming he lacked any special Markings of Perception. From what I had learned, Marks were less common than I had originally been led to believe; I gambled against him having one. I crawled down the side of the building several feet, until I reached another means of egress: a window to the second story of the building, to an office, from what I had gathered during my initial scouting. The building had several windows interspersed along the second floor, though only on the side facing the market square. The back of the building was almost pressed against a large retainer wall, which meant a window in that direction would have been pointless. The window I currently was hanging over was roughly two feet wide and three feet tall. It sat on a sliding track, meant for ease of opening. Below it hung a flower box, though rather than flowers it contained trailing green ground covers, almost wiry vines. I thought it a strange choice to plant, but ultimately I was not there to admire the vegetation. Rather, I pushed a gloved hand against the window and offered a tentative push. To my surprise, the window budged, though it did create a very slight sound. I paused and checked the peacekeeper. He remained where he was, consumed with his poetry. If he was mumbling lines over his breath, then he likely would not have heard. I pushed once more on the window in a smooth and constant motion. It gave a whisper of a groan, barely audible over the wind. Soon, it had opened wide enough to fit through. I crawled in, curling around the top of the window until my hands stuck to the interior wall. No alarm had been sounded, and nothing seemed to have detected my presence. After waiting several seconds, I pulled my bottom half through the opening and landed on my feet in a silent crouch. Still, no alarm sounded. I shut the window before anyone could notice it opened. The carpeted floor muffled my steps as I took in the office. It contained an old and beat up wooden desk that might politely have been called an antique. A painting of a cityscape hung on a wall, and shelves lined the opposite. It was tempting to rifle through the desk and shelves for any valuables, but that was not my target tonight, and if I wasted time up here, then I might not reach the real prizes. Thus, I quickly found the way out. There was a single door, though it had been locked from both sides. An irritating development, but this form of deadbolt was theoretically more secure, though it lacked convenience for whoever rented this office. I removed my lockpicks and got to work, though I encountered frustration. My false-arm either over or under applied torque. Frustrating. I should have practiced picking locks a bit more before coming here. With too little torsion, the pins failed to stick. With too much, they jammed in place when I tried wiggling them with my pick. It took over two minutes¨Cover two minutes!¨Cfor the lock to tumble open. The deadbolt slid out from the wall. I put my tools away and pushed the door open slightly. After listening for a moment, I failed to hear any signs of movement. I peeked through the cracked ajar door. On the other side was a dark hallway with wooden floors. I left the office behind me, though I left the door partially ajar, just in case I needed to make a hasty escape and the door re-locked itself in some manner. With soft steps, I moved down the hallway while keeping an approximate map in my head of the exterior and comparing my expected position with it. I avoided the doors on my left, which was the side facing the market. I expected that those were largely offices or workrooms. To my right, I expected there to be either storage closets or a means to descend to the first floor. Given the number of doors on the right side, I hesitated just slightly. I could check all of them until I found the stairs, and that was what I would need to do if I lacked another means of figuring it out. I checked the doors over the alchemist shop first, there were three on the right wall. All of them shared the same construction, with the same locking deadbolts. As they were all similar enough I was about to subject myself to unlocking all three of them, wasting valuable time, when a thought occurred to me: If the workers and managers of the shops below frequented the spaces on the second floor, then they would need to use the stairway to do so. Even if they ended up checking a pantry or whatever the two other doors were for, I thought the door to the stairs would feature additional traffic, at least comparatively. However, a quick look at the wooden floor failed to turn up much in the way of wear and tear. In fact, the floor appeared freshly waxed. No revealing scuff marks were to be found. The only other source of frequent use I could think of was the locks themselves. A door frequently unlocked would show signs such as scrapes around the keyhole. The first door I investigated had a couple of scratches on the brass plate of the lock, but not much else. The second had more scratches along with a worn and dimpled brass plate. The last one showed some dimpling around the keyhole, but not much else. I went back to the second door, with the most promising signs of wear, and I began my work. Once more, picking the lock was far harder than it ought to have been. My false-arm understood my intent slightly better this time, though the fine movements were still a struggle. For when exerting pressure on a delicate tool, it helped to be able to feel that tactile feedback. It also helped to have direct control of the limb. In this case, I had neither, instead an intermediary between my left shoulder and the torque. Though this time it just took me over a minute to unlock the deadbolt. My false-arm was learning¡­ which worried me in a different way. But as the door opened, revealing a flat floor and a wall shortly thereafter opposite to me, I faced a different concern, that I had opened the wrong door after all. Should I need to unlock all the doors along this floor, then I likely would fail to reach any of my intended targets. It would be a waste, worse than a waste, as I doubted I could remove all signs of my passing. My targets would be alerted and would raise their guard for the subsequent nights, and I would be forced to scout a new location. But all was not lost. For my understanding of the room failed to make sense, which meant my understanding was likely flawed. After all, one had no need of locking doors to small and empty rooms. I leaned over and stuck my head through the doorway. To my left was the expected plain wall. To my right though, in that direction was a deep shadow that failed to make immediate sense. After allowing my eyes to adjust further to the gloom, I figured out what I was seeing. The shadow of a sloping ceiling. Instead of the stairwell running perpendicular to the hallway, it ran parallel. The hallway must have been running nearer to the backside of the building that I had originally anticipated. Otherwise, a stairway built in this fashion would be obstructive to the remainder of the building space. I left the door cracked open behind me and I followed the stairs down, letting the pungent and acerbic scents of the apothecary wash over me as I descended. At least I had found the right stairway, I consoled myself, even if it took far too long to reach this point. At the bottom of the stairs, I had my first bit of luck. There was no locked door there, nor any door at all. I was looking into the apothecary, with the only source of illuminating being the market square on the other side of the shopfront glass. Remembering my plan, I kept to the back of the shop and focused on the medicinal and alchemical wares. Among the back shelves were many vials and tins of various substances and labels. I had trouble understanding what held the most value. It was not as though I could take everything; the tins especially were each the size of a hand. But the vials lining the shelves were small enough that they all fit inside my satchel. However, as I pulled the vials into my satchel, I came across one section of the shelf that had been locked behind wood paneling. It was padlocked between the shelf and a metal bracket nailed to the wooden panel. My spirits rose at the sight. Whatever was contained within would be of high value. It would be worth the effort and time. Nothing ever came easily, and certainly not wealth. The padlock ought to have been simple, but as I lifted it up, I saw it required a combination. Of course, there were tricks to defeat these sorts of locks. I would need to apply pressure to the lock while spinning the mechanism and listening or feeling for the tumbler clicking into place. However, that would be time consuming. Even more so with my false-arm and my limited dexterity. Fortunately, an alternative solution was present. For the bracket had been nailed into the wood paneling. The wood was thin, and the nails appeared closer to finishing nails than actual impediments. I slipped my knife from its sheath and began wiggling the edge into the wood at the base of the bracket. It required very little force for my blade to begin wedging the bracket away from the paneling. WIthin minutes, the bracket had been removed, and the padlock hung useless from the shelves. I wasted little time in sliding the paneling to the side, revealing a glass case displaying three vials. It seemed a lot for so little, but I lacked the knowledge to say for certain what the vials were, what their value was. Regardless of their potential worth, they were small and light and I added them to my satchel. After raiding the back shelves, I scouted for anything else of value. The counter lacked a register or anything that shone with obvious worth. And while I could earn a few additional Chargers by ransacking the place further, I had one last target for the eve. I slid the panel back shut and left the apothecary mostly as I found it. I headed back up the stairs, and traveled further down the hallway, once again tracking my position as best as I could against my internal map of the building. About two shop-lengths later, I came to a stop and once more began checking the doors for wear and tear. Once more, I found the most heavily used door. This time, picking the lock took just under a minute. Progress, though I still felt disappointed in myself. I still remembered picking equivalent locks in less than twenty seconds flat. There was much room for improvement. My false-arm¡¯s tendrils shivered beneath the skin of my neck. The door swung open, revealing a stairwell, and once more I descended as a silent ghost. This was the first time I had entered a shop selling artificed goods. I was a little uncertain on what to expect, or what I should grab. So as I cleared the bottom step, I took it all in to the best of my ability. At least, what I could see in the very dim light. The floorplan of the shop was largely open. A long bench-like table lined the walls to either side, and devices appeared set on the bench with plenty of space between each one. There were several podiums on the floor that held a single device each. From what I could see, I felt disappointment. I had expected more. But there was not even a lockbox full of Chargers I could find. I checked over the counter and the cubbies beneath the back counter, but I found nothing, solely empty space. In fact, if I were to guess at the cubby¡¯s purpose, I would assume they were meant for employees to store their personal belongings while on shift. Which meant that in this store, the only things of value were the things I had first seen on the tables and podiums¡­ which was not a lot. I chided myself for the disparaging train of thought. Even if there had been a substantial number of artificed goods, I could not have grabbed more than I could carry. In fact, even from what I could see, there was more here than I could take back. I would need to prioritize what I took. A faint cough came from the windows at the front, and I saw the silhouette of the peacekeeper move. He was still standing out there, likely reading his book. It should pose no difficulty to me, so long as I avoided drawing his attention. I stalked down the bench, glancing over the devices. Fortunately, each was present with a booklet and titled placard, sparing me from guessing at the tool¡¯s function. There was a recording and playback device, along with three coin shaped inserts that were purported to contain music. There was a voice amplifier, though it looked more like a wand. There was an automatic shaver. Paired two-way communicators. A projector with several clips containing different scenes. A set of spyglasses that both magnified and showed more than one spectrum. In short, an eclectic bunch. I swiped the devices that looked the most valuable, though I was forced to leave the projector as it was too large to carry easily. When I came to the spy glasses, the ones that seemed the most valuable, I quickly swiped them. As I lifted them from their resting place, too quickly for me to react, I felt the slightest amount of resistance, almost a twang of a string snapping. The spy glasses were in my hand, and then in my satchel, but that was the end of the good news. Impending Sense: 3/9 (+1) A shill alarm pierced the air. The peacekeeper out front jumped and yelled, dropping his book of poetry in the process. He turned towards the shop, his eyes wide, his lantern shining through the bracketed windows. Already he headed towards the door, his hand grabbing at a keyring hanging from his belt. There was no time to waste observing him. I was already off to the stairway and running up them towards the hallway. From behind and below, I heard the lock turning then the door slamming open. I rushed through the door at the top, just barely keeping it from hitting the wall and causing a loud retort to reveal my position. I rushed down the hallway, light on my feet and making no sound. Lucky Break: 7/9 (+1) I reached the office. From outside, I could hear the peacekeepers running across the market square as they arrived. Several shouted. I leaned against the wall by the window, peering out. The peacekeepers shone their lanterns against the building. I ducked away from the glass as the light passed by, before I went back to spying, waiting. The door to the shop finally opened, and two of the peacekeepers entered. The last was sent running off to the side, flanking the building. The second this peacekeepr¡¯s back was turned, as he reached the corner of the building, I was already sliding the window open. I swung around to the outside wall and slid the window back shut behind me. Before anyone was the wiser, I scurried up to the roof and came down in a perch to catch my breath and consider the situation. More peacekeepers would arrive soon. It would take them time to check the roofs. Even if they looked up, all they would see would be shadows against the sky. The risk of fleeing by rooftop seemed negligible. I took off in a sprint, jumping to the next nearest rooftop, then the next. No chase came. From what I could tell, no watchers followed. It appeared that my heist had succeeded, despite the trap I had triggered at the end. Soon, I was heading back up Blossom hill with a bag of valuables to sell, which would hopefully fund my acquisition of a Greater Glyph, though several intermediary hurdles yet existed. When I was halfway back up the Hill, I dropped into a sidestreet between a shrub and a wall and I resumed my Guise. Guise of the Kitsune: 6/9 (+1) The changes came over me once more, this time in reverse. My tail retreated, leaving an uncomfortable and persistent pressure against my back. My jaw burned and cracked as my muzzle retreated back to a human face. My skin ithced and kept itching for minutes after the fur had disappeared. What little curves I had once owned then returned. Within minutes, I was once again human-looking. Relief swept through me once again having a human form, despite the cramped discomfort. Surprisingly, with the Guise came an insatiable craving for Cook¡¯s meals; her specific spiced meat dish, in particular. My stomach voiced its interests, and I did not disagree. With my Guise on, I finished making my way to Ma¡¯Ritz. I stowed my bag and my tools on a nearby rooftop, wedged in tight between a balustrade and a faux turret that may have been a chimney in function. I hurried back over to my usual perch over Ma¡¯Ritz, pretending all the while that I had been there the entire night. I made a few rounds to ensure nothing looked out of place in the vicinity. While it was too early to know for sure, I felt optimistic that my absence had gone unnoticed. I was content enough to begin brooding over my next problem: where to offload the stolen goods. There were merchants through-out the city, including those that bought second-hand goods. But what I truly required was a fence, and a reputable one at that. It was far too easy for black-market thugs to take advantage of novice thieves. Instead of a scrutable criminal, I needed to find one that was willing to make an investment into a potentially profitable relationship. The issue was figuring out who that fence was. Concerningly and strangely enough, I did have one idea of who that might be. Though I was unsure of how I had that knowledge in the first place. As I tried to remember where I had learned of this person and place, I encountered a migraine. The more I focused on the how of this knowledge, the worse I felt. Despite this development, I knew where I could begin looking with a higher chance of success, an establishment called Laverna¡¯s Cup. It was even on the Hill, though it fell on the outskirts. Despite the suspicious nature of where the idea came from, it was the only lead I had so far, and starting there was more likely to return positive results than shaking down random criminals in the slums to find who they personally used to move hot goods. With that potential and incredibly suspicious location given, I made plans for the next day. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
  • Athleticism I (1/9):
    • Climbing I (4/9)
      • Featherlight I (4/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
    • Gymnastics (4/9) (+1)
  • Stealth I (8/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
      • Area Coverage (5/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver I (2/9)
    • Evasion I (1/9)
      • Impending Sense (3/9) (+1)
    • Lucky Break (7/9) (+1)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (6/9) (+1)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.4.6 The next day I awoke late-morning, nearing the lunch bell. I laid in bed listening, half expecting to hear some form of interruption. But this morning, no interruptions arrived. Blissfully, peacefully, I awoke on my own. Though I still felt groggy from the night before. Using my Guise to switch forms took a substantial amount of effort, though this time was not nearly so debilitating as the last. However, not only did I feel groggy, but my stomach was growling. I had a craving to satisfy. Thus, I quickly readied myself for the day, slipping on my pants, chest-wrap, tunic, then leather jacket, though my jacket had seen better days and showed several stitches where I had sewn it back together. Personally, I enjoyed its look, though I understood it might not fit entirely well with the wealthy residents of Blossom Hill. Once cleaned, emptied, and dressed, I headed down to the kitchen, ignoring everything and everyone until I found Cook and Little Anne already busy dicing, grilling, stewing, and possibly reducing, though I was hardly a chef to judge their actions appropriately. However, even under my Guise, my nose still felt overwhelmed by the medley of scents that overpowered me as I entered the uncomfortably warm kitchen. The clamor of their work left my ears twitching, or trying to at least. Cook spared me a glance, her sharp eyes running from nose to ears to eyes before she returned to her work while she spoke. ¡°Hunger takes the kitten?¡± She asked in the Kaiva tongue. ¡°Pardon?¡± I answered, feigning ignorance, though I did recognize what she had said, for I had learned the Kaiva tongue during my brief tenure as a captive with Issen, Larissen, and Kissen. I suspected that Cook knew I was falsifying my incomprehension, as the corner her lips curled, revealing several sharp teeth. ¡°Perhaps this one was mistaken,¡± she said, this time in Imperial. ¡°The girl wishes for a meal, then? Perhaps a dish of steamed vegetables?¡± The thought nearly left me gagging. ¡°Surely you jest!¡± I protested. ¡°Perhaps,¡± Cook said thoughtfully. ¡°Has any progress been made towards this one¡¯s request?¡± I assumed she referred to locating her former employer, the albino Kaiva I had seen in the slums while running an errand for her. ¡°No, not yet,¡± I said. ¡°Though I have been keeping my eyes open.¡± She huffed. ¡°More than open eyes will be required,¡± she said sternly, giving a dire gaze. At least, her gaze felt dire, as she was threatening my continued access to one of the most satisfying meals I had ever enjoyed in the city. So beneath her gaze, I withered. Fortunately, Little Anne chose that moment to intervene. ¡°Just give the deviant what she wants,¡± Anne said. ¡°You know she¡¯s here for the¡­ meat,¡± she finished speaking with a tone of disgust which left me with mixed feelings. On one hand, Little Anne helped; but on the other, she insulted. While I pondered how I would address Anne, or even if I should, Cook answered. ¡°And this one shall,¡± Cook said. ¡°This is merely a reminder before my simple request is forgotten which would force consequences. But those consequences must not be suffered this day. For your meal, would the kit prefer it raw, seared and spiced, or covered in sauce?¡± I appreciated the warning for what it was. I also appreciated that she asked my preferences, but with the empty pit forming in my stomach, I felt more immediacy and less particularity towards the meat¡¯s preparation. ¡°Whichever is fastest,¡± I answered, glossing over my continued efforts, or lack thereof, to locate Cook¡¯s former employer. ¡°Raw then,¡± Cook said, setting aside the tongs she had been using and heading to the ice chest where she kept the best, and only, cuts of succulent, gorgeous, wonderful meat. She retrieved a tan paper wrapped package no bigger than my fist. ¡°Enjoy yourself,¡± she said, handing me the meat. My mouth watered and my nostrils flared. Even with my reduced senses, even surrounded by the clamoring and chaotic kitchen, I still caught the coppery scent which left my mind feeling fogged over and my stomach eager and my mouth watering. ¡°Run along,¡± Cook said, dismissing me and turning back to resume twisting vegetables over an open flame. ¡°This one is busy.¡± Little Anne sneered at my package as I turned to leave, but I paid her no mind. Instead, I thanked Cook over my shoulder and I fled with my prize, heading towards the common room of the tavern to find a table and a plate. Just because I would eat the meal raw was no reason to eat as a savage. And besides, much could be learned from eavesdropping on the gossip. And it would not be amiss to see Marianne Frostwraith. I had missed her when I retired the night previous, and she had been up for hours by the time I arose. Not that seeing her was any sort of incentive. She just reminded me of someone I missed. The tavern was abuzz when I entered through the service door. Marianne was hurrying from table to table, taking orders and dropping off drinks. It was a bit early for the lunch rush, and fortunately there were still tables aplenty in the back. Though, had the restaurant been full, there was still a small booth in the hallway with the kitchen. Fortunately though, I found a spot in the main room where Marianne could visit. Marianne caught my eye and smiled, making her way over. ¡°Good morning, Jackie! You¡¯re up and about earlier than I thought you¡¯d be. You don¡¯t happen to have a Mark of Wakefulness?¡± I tilted my head slightly, ¡°Is that a thing?¡± She shrugged, ¡°I¡¯m not sure, but it seems like it might be?¡± She motioned towards the package in my hand. ¡°You want a plate and silverware?¡± ¡°And a table?¡± I asked, She paused for a second. ¡°Is there something off with our servant¡¯s booth? Anne didn¡¯t leave a mess again, did she?¡± I shook my head, allowing a small and wry smile to show. ¡°No, but I was hoping to listen in on some gossip while I ate.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure if you should be admitting that,¡± she said, her face a mixture between pursed lips and amusement. ¡°But if you¡¯re after gossip, I can fill you in while you eat.¡± ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be working though?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not that busy yet,¡± she laughed. ¡°After I get everyone settled with their drinks I should have a few moments. I just need to keep an ear out for new guests¡­ or surly ones.¡± She frowned, seeming to remember an unpleasant experience. ¡°So, the table?¡± I said, interrupting her train of thought. ¡°Right, just pick the far back one. Mostly outta sight from the rest. I¡¯ll get you your accouterments after I settle my guests.¡± I thanked her as I went to the table in question, nearest the service door, and with a tall partition shielding one of the seats from sight. I settled in to that one, figuring that the regulars would likely find my meal of choice disgusting. It turned out that Marianne settling her guests took nearly ten minutes. That was ten minutes I spent salivating and regarding the package of succulent flesh. I nearly tore into it with hands and teeth, barely resisting the urge to act with such savagery. The longer I waited, the worse the urge became, until finally Marianne arrived with a plate, knife, and fork, along with a tankard of ale. She sat opposite of me and slid the ale over. ¡°You bought me a drink?¡± I asked her. She flushed slightly, and I grinned, ¡°Thank you for that. Though not requried, and I appreciate it.¡± Even though it was still morning. However, thanks to my Alchemical Resistance, it took a substantial amount of alcohol to have any effect. The only concern I had was the calories, and even then, with how little I consumed on the regular, I likely had nothing to worry there either. ¡°I thought it might go well with washing¨C¡± she nodded towards the package ¡°-down. Go ahead and dig in while I fill you in.¡± I ended up doing just that, delicately unfolding my meal from its wrapping, and then gracefully licking the leftover blood from the waxy paper before setting it down. Marianne watched on in fascination, her blue eyes shining bright. Unlike most Imperials, she showed no signs of disgust or judgment. Instead, she continued speaking. ¡°Well you picked a good morning to take an interest. The whole tavern is focusing on the latest scandal. Wouldn¡¯t surprise me if that¡¯s what brought most of ¡®em in.¡± I made noises to imply interest as I sliced ribbons from the well marbled and fatty chunk of what might have been pork-belly. Though I had yet to see swine to confirm that. ¡°Turns out, a couple upscale shops were robbed sometime after midnight,¡± she said, pausing. I kept my face from revealing any sort of recognition, though I did pose a question. ¡°That¡¯s considered a scandal?¡± ¡°Of course it is, Jackie!¡± Marianne said, scandalized. ¡°If it was down in the districts, then it might not be. But the baron¡¯s own men are charged with keeping that sorta thing from happening! From what I hear, they were even contracted specifically to prevent that from happening to one of the stores!¡± I scoffed. ¡°The peacekeepers certainly dropped the ball keeping us safe up here,¡± I said, referring to an event where several gang-members had jumped a client leaving Ma¡¯Ritz. ¡°I see no reason why their incompetence is only now coming to light.¡± ¡°Shush, Jackie!¡± Marianne exclaimed, frantically looking about to ensure nobody else had heard. ¡°You can¡¯t just say that!¡± ¡°Oh?¡± I said, perhaps too boldly. ¡°Is it not true?¡± ¡°Well, maybe it is, maybe it¡¯s not, but saying that kinda thing brings trouble!¡± I reluctantly conceded the point to her. Inviting further trouble was perhaps unwise. ¡°So what¡¯s this robbery mean, now that it¡¯s happened to someone else?¡± ¡°Not just someone else. But the Artificer¡¯s Union! That¡¯s a big deal, Jackie.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°For one, they¡¯re rich. For two, they¡¯re wealthy. For three, they hold a monopoly on most of the artificed goods manufactured in the city. And did I mention they have more Chargers than anyone else but the baron?¡± I looked up from my meal, pausing to consider what she had just said. I had not realized that the union was that powerful. I snorted, ¡°That might explain why they were robbed.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a joking matter!¡± Marianne insisted. ¡°You don¡¯t want anyone hearing that sorta talk. Influential people are angry, the peacekeepers lost face, and people are talking¡­¡± I motioned for her to continue as I took a draught of ale. She glanced about again. ¡°Well, you didn¡¯t hear this from me, but I might have overheard that the union might push to have Princess Mars¡¯ little social club take a more upfront role in the city.¡± From the way she had hushed her voice, I suspected that this was more impactful than it at first seemed. I just was unsure as to why. She rolled her eyes at my confusion. ¡°Jackie, sometimes you¡¯re hopeless! The baron and the princess have been butting heads over who controls the city for a while. Anything that lessens his influence and increases hers is gonna come with ramifications. Wouldn¡¯t surprise me if some baron loyalists are up in arms at the thought of it.¡± It occurred to me that Marianne might be more invested in this particular issue as she likely wanted to prevent any alienation that might occur with the customers. ¡°Anyways, drink up, Jackie.¡± Marianne rose to leave, her eyes on one of her tables. ¡°Will I see you later today?¡± Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°I¡¯ll wave when I leave,¡± I said. ¡°But otherwise? I¡¯m not sure. I¡¯ll be here tonight though. Stick your head out like usual when you get off.¡± She flashed me a dimpled smile. ¡°Of course, Jackie.¡± And she was off, leaving me to my half empty tankard of ale and my nearly finished suspect pork-belly. As soon as I finished and waved at Marianne, I began making my way South, using the side streets rather than the major boulevard. I had a rough idea of where I was going, though I tried my best not to consider how I did, because every time I began to question the knowledge, I suffered a sudden headache, one that would persist and grow into a full-fledged migraine, at least if I persisted with the train of thought. And so, I took the knowledge for granted. It potentially offered what I needed, and if I had just heard about it from criminal chatter, then I likely would have checked the place out anyways. So, this knowledge being implanted¨C I winced as my temples began pounding with every heartbeat. Regardless of how I found out about Laverna¡¯s Cup, precautions would be taken. For one, I had nothing of value on me, except for my knowledge of where my stash was. And for two, my false-arm was always willing to defend me. Even as I thought of the parasitic arm, its tendrils tightened about my collarbone, almost tickling me as though to comfort me or to confirm my assertions. My descent continued as I thought. The side-streets oft times involved switchback staircases that traveled down very steep retaining walls. Other than the boulevard that ramped up the Hill towards the baron¡¯s estate, the rest of the Hill was terraced. Which meant stairs. And lots of them. But the steepness of the terrain also had another effect on the Southern fringe of the Hill. And that was that the South side was largely cast in a shadow for most of the day. Between the shade, the lack of greenery, and the fact that the Chasm abutted the Hill, it left this side of the Hill less desirable, less wealthy, and almost the equivalent of middle-class suburbs. This part of the city was still far nicer than most of the districts, and night and day better than the slums. But comparatively to the rest of Blossom Hill, this section felt impoverished, crowded, cold, and barren of vegetation. As I reached the bottom ring, where only one layer of buildings and one final promenade separated me from the Chasm, I found a bar called Laverna¡¯s Cup wedged between a grocer¡¯s and an artisan cobbler. The building was made with slate foundations and wooden everything else. It fit the common trend with it having two stories, and likely a basement as well. The wooden rafters above gave additional shadows to what might have been an opening near the top, perfect for a lookout. Other than a woman and child briskly walking down the sidewalk while pushing a handcart, the street was largely empty. I was undecided on if that was suspicious or not. Regardless, knowing that I needed Chargers, and information, and to figure out how¨C Regardless, I crossed the street and boldly strode through the door of Larverna¡¯s Cup. When I entered, I expected a seedy and rundown tavern with a few long term wastrels drinking themselves to death. What I found was near the exact opposite. The interior felt warm and clean, with tasteful stone tiles serving for the floor and a masonry facade over the walls. The ceiling had been lined with artificed lamps providing far more illumination than a typical tavern would. The second the door closed behind me, I was greeted by a well groomed Imperial who wore a smile with welcoming eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t think I¡¯ve seen you around before,¡± he said, coming around from the inside of the bar and approaching. Despite his demeanor, I kept my guard up. He must have seen me tense slightly as he came around because he halted his approach and held his arms out wide. ¡°So what can I do for ya? Were you after a pint?¡± I glanced around the barroom floor. Empty. It was solely me and the barkeep. Which meant there would be no witnesses to foul play, if that was what the barkeep intended. But then again, he gave off anything but those sorts of vibes. But then again¡­ I realized I was spinning in circles. My false-arm firmly gripped my ribs, clavicle, and spine. I felt its tendrils tensing beneath my skin, perhaps responding to my stress. I needed to calm down before the parasite took actions into its own hands. I took a deep breath and released, letting go of most of my fears. Whatever happened here, I would survive. And if things went well, then I would be significantly closer to my goal. I smirked at him, catching him off-guard with my turn-about. ¡°A pint might be good,¡± I said. ¡°Depending on if what you have on tap is any good.¡± ¡°Well,¡± he said, tilting his head. ¡°We carry quality drinks, of course. But that you said you might have a drink, leaves me wondering why you came in. After all, people enter bars for drinks. Unless you came for the salted peanuts or pickles?¡± Some taverns carried pub-food. Most of them did, from my experience. The fact that this place did not was interesting, and might explain the empty feeling it carried¡­ which might have been intentional. ¡°You lack a kitchen?¡± I asked. ¡°Can¡¯t lack what you don¡¯t need,¡± he said, cheerfully. ¡°So, what can I do for ya?¡± I hesitated just a second, attempting to find the words to allude to what I wanted without incriminating myself. ¡°This might sound strange, but I was looking for a recommendation, actually.¡± ¡°Oh? Now you¡¯ve got me curious. A recommendation for what?¡± ¡°...A merchant.¡± ¡°Just any type? There¡¯re tons of merchants about. Have to be more specific than that.¡± ¡°One that¡¯s willing to buy some slightly used gear,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what type that would be.¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± he said, tapping his chin. ¡°Interesting that you just happened to come here looking for that. But before I answer that to the best of my ability, maybe I could learn a bit more about you?¡± Again, I tensed, and I wondered if this was some elaborate sting operation, or worse, a long-con. ¡°For one, what is it you do for a living, or do you have one? I assume you do, though you look quite young.¡± ¡°I¡¯m in security,¡± I said. ¡°Nights up on the Hill.¡± ¡°Interesting, interesting.¡± He stroked his chin. ¡°Would you have been involved in any of that business that went down last night?¡± ¡°That was the peacekeepers guarding the market square,¡± I said. ¡°At least, from what I heard. I work up at Ma¡¯Ritz.¡± Which was a risk to admit, but I had a feeling it would have been easy for anyone to track me down, if they really wanted to. Purple hair and pale skin stood out, and I worked in a fairly public establishment. ¡°So, a girl, a kid really, who works nights as security at a brothel of some renown¡­ I think I might have heard of ya.¡± ¡°Really?¡± I asked, curious. ¡°Yep! So why don¡¯t you grab a seat and I¡¯ll pour you a drink.¡± Were it not for my Alchemical Immunity, I would have been worried he might spike the drink with any sort of detrimental effect. But as it was, I took advantage of that Glyph and slid onto a stool as he went back around the corner, to where clay tankards hung and a keg was tapped. ¡°No artificed system to keep the ale cold and fresh?¡± I asked as he poured a frothy glass, with some of the foam spilling over. ¡°Well, it¡¯s somewhat of a secondary concern here, and not all of us Hill-dwellers can afford it.¡± ¡°If that¡¯s secondary, and you don¡¯t have a kitchen¡­ I¡¯m beginning to see why it¡¯s so empty in here. Can I ask what your primary concern is then?¡± He smiled to himself, laughing at a joke only he heard. ¡°You can ask. But only if I can ask you a question first.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Sounds fair enough.¡± ¡°What did you think of Belobog?¡± I froze. Emotions washed over me. A veil was lifted from my mind. I remembered the headache I felt after I had encountered Belobog for the first time. A scowl came over me, a feeling of violation, anger, then fury. So that was how I had learned of Laverna¡¯s Cup. It had been planted in my head. By a mothersworn mind violator. ¡°Woah hey!¡± the bartender called my attention back to him. ¡°I recognize that face, and I get it. It sucks, it really does.¡± ¡°Are you in league with Belobog?¡± I asked him, to find out just how far his culpability went in the matter. Had he been stalling me while an ambush gathered? I had to wonder. ¡°Look,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re wanting a fence, yeah? For the job last night that I¡¯m guessing was you?¡± He suspected that I was the one that robbed the artifice shop, or was he guessing? Was he just stalling? Either way, I was considering if I really had the luxury of leaving the man alive. If he cast aspersions towards me, and if the peacekeepers were looking for a scapegoat to take the pressure off them¡­ then things could go very poorly very quickly for me. ¡°And now you¡¯re thinking of offing me, yeah?¡± He winced, and backed away slightly so that his back touched the wall. His hands remained lifted and in plain sight. ¡°But before you decide that, maybe hear a man out? Call it a last request.¡± I strained my ears to see if I could find any signs of incoming footsteps or hushed whispers. But there was nothing. No vibrations in the ground from running footsteps. No scent of unwashed bodies that usually accompanied criminals and mercenaries. From all I could tell, there was nothing coming my way. But from all I could tell, a sniper already had a bead on me, ready to strike me down should I make any wrong move. Which might explain why the man had yet to act rashly, despite the implicit threat. ¡°Talk, then.¡± ¡°You¡¯re looking for a fence. We can give that. You¡¯re angry about Belobog checking you out. Understandable. I wish she would find a better way to tell people about the place. But it¡¯s risky. The wrong person finds out about us? The law would be kicking down the door and ruining a good thing we¡¯ve got going here. If you think about it, we¡¯re the ones taking the risk here. Letting random potential recruits know about us in the case they¡¯ve got hot items to unload. But I get it. You feel violated, rightly so. And you can bring it up with her later, if you want. But I can guarantee you that she didn¡¯t do more than poke around, check you out, and drop a suggestion in case you ever found yourself in this particular position. So here we are.¡± He took a moment to regather himself as I considered what he was saying. The problem I was having was my emotions. They were all over the place, and would likely see me dead or worse, at least if I were to follow them blindly. That failed to mean that my emotions held no value, because in many situations they did serve as a primal motivator. It was just in this particular situation that they appeared more of a detriment. Because, logically, I gathered that this organization to which the bartender and Belobog alluded to already knew of me, and they could likely infer my activities. Additionally, should I leave them vulnerable, they could very easily remove me as a loose end. I could think of several ways they could achieve that now, before I ever left the place. There were several other ways they could extort or blackmail me as well. The fact that they were attempting a friendly approach was actually a good sign, an olive branch towards a cooperative and mutually beneficial relationship. I knew all of that. But still¡­ I was angry. I tried repressing it the best I could. Vengeance could always come later, at a more opportune time. ¡°And consider this,¡± he said. ¡°Belobog can manipulate minds, yeah?¡± I nodded, feeling more and more unease about this organization that apparently employed a psychic. I had not even realized that there were Marks for that sort of thing. ¡°She left instructions to seek us out if you ever had hot goods to unload. You feel angry about it, yeah? Angry enough to do something stupid?¡± I nodded, this time more slowly than the last. ¡°Were I to let my emotional state drive my decisions, then yes. I am quite upset.¡± ¡°So here¡¯s the thing. If Belobog were as bad as she could be, would she have left you the capability to feel angry about her? Or would she just¡­ you know¡­ convince you to be eating out of the palm of her hand?¡± Horror. Horrified, I gasped, before I could master my facial expressions. ¡°Can she¡­ can she do that?¡± I asked, fearing the answer, and far too terrified of the potential to even consider the fact that the barkeeper could be bluffing or lying. He shrugged, ¡°Don¡¯t know. Nobody does, since she¡¯s never done anything of the sort, to the best of my knowledge.¡± ¡°But¡­ how do you know she hasn¡¯t¡­ you know¡­ ?¡± ¡°You¡¯re wondering if she might have messed my mind around to think the way it does about her?¡± he asked, sounding amused. ¡°Trust me, I¡¯ve spent some nights wondering that myself.¡± ¡°And you want to recruit me into this organization?!¡± ¡°Potentially¡­¡± ¡°Why would I ever consent to be around¡­ this¡­ Belobog?¡± ¡°Well, consider this,¡± he said, before pausing to smirk. ¡°She already knows where you work and live. Even if you changed addresses, she could probably find you anywhere in Southbridge. Does it really matter if you join or not? When she could do whatever it is you fear she would do?¡± ¡°Maybe, but I don¡¯t have to make it easy for her.¡± ¡°True. But¡­¡± he held up a finger. ¡°Would you give her a reason to by doing that? Now think about it. You know about her. You know potentially a way to find her. Do you think she might want you to forget that?¡± I winced. ¡°Either I join or have the sanctity of my mind violated?¡± ¡°No, I would never lay that out like that. Just a consideration, is all. Besides, we haven¡¯t even offered you the position yet.¡± I deflated with a heavy sigh, realizing just how precarious my situation was. Truly, some Marks were terrifying. Seeing the tankard before me, I picked it up and tilted it back, throwing as much of it down as fast as possible, until ale dribbled down my chin. When it was empty, I set it back down on the bartop. ¡°Another?¡± he asked. I nodded wearily. He poured me another, though he reused the same tankard. Still though, it was something to distract. I pounded that one down as well. He offered a third, but I declined. ¡°So,¡± he said after I finished. ¡°You¡¯re looking for a fence?¡± I nodded, too tired to care any more. Emotional exhaustion had set in. ¡°I can help. Just discreetly bring the goods here, and I¡¯ll give you the fairest price they¡¯re worth. Drugs, elixirs, and artificed goods, yeah?¡± I nodded again. ¡°Should be easy enough to move. You chose well for what you hit. One of the reasons we¡¯d consider you. Well that and your ability.¡± ¡°How do I know I can trust you to bring my goods here?¡± I asked, more for the ingrained principal than because I thought I had a better choice. Though I supposed I could make life more difficult for everyone concerned, if I chose to be stubborn. ¡°Well, there are other fences, but none that have a vested interest in ya. But here, tell you what. How ¡®bout I give you some collateral. That way, even if I do rob you, which I won¡¯t, but even if I did, you¡¯d still walk away with something.¡± ¡°Unless you take that too.¡± He shrugged, ¡°Just make sure you hide it. In fact, I got just the thing. One sec.¡± He headed to a backroom, and I heard him heading up the stairs and walking around on the second floor. A minute later, he came back down holding a small jewelry box made of polished dark wood. He slid it over. ¡°Take a look.¡± I shrugged and lifted the lid, revealing a glowing golden mineral shaped vaguely like pyrite, but crystalline. ¡°This is?¡± ¡°Blackjack,¡± he said. ¡°Hard to get without knowing the right person. Useful in Marks too, if you¡¯re considering getting one for that Academy of yours.¡± The hair on the back of my neck rose up. ¡°You even know about that?¡± ¡°Well yeah,¡± he said. ¡°Of course we do background checks. We don¡¯t bother with just any recruit. We¡¯re running a finely honed criminal enterprise here,¡± he finished with a grin, though I thought he was only partially joking. ¡°And you¡¯ll let me take this?¡± I asked. He shrugged, ¡°yeah. Consider it a down payment, I guess. Just bring your goods down, we¡¯ll trade you Cee at a fair¡­ fair-ish¡­ value, and then we can see what else you can do.¡± ¡°A down payment¡­ Are you attempting to recruit me or not?¡± ¡°Well, suppose that depends on how well your trial run goes.¡± ¡°My what?¡± I asked. Unfortunately, while I remained until I finished my second drink, I could derive no further details on this mysterious future trial. Soon, I departed with the blackjack, with a promise to soon return with the goods to sell. Absorption 2.4.7 Marianne chewed her lip in indecision. ¡°Is it dangerous?¡± she asked. ¡°No?¡± I asked, unsure of why she would think that. ¡°At least, I assume not.¡± ¡°Then what is it, and why does it glow?¡± That gave me pause, as those were valid questions. Rocks back home never glowed, unless they were harmless glow-rocks or perhaps something else entirely. While I had never studied physics, I had seen plenty of popular media displaying radioactive substances. How realistic that truly was, I was unsure, but in my mind, I saw a potential lump of radioactive uranium. Naturally, I kept these fantastical fears to myself. Marianne required no additional worries, especially not as I intended her to perform a favor for me. For after I had returned to Ma¡¯Ritz to both gather my haul and deposit my down-payment, the chunk of Blackjack, I encountered a slight difficulty. My shared room with Marianne was hardly secure. While I did borrow a trunk there, it would be foolish of me to trust it to keep anything valuable. The door and window lacked locks and the hallway might as well be public with all the traffic through it. Of course, there were alternatives. I could have hid the gem. But the problem with that, was that I had no means to verify that I had not been followed, or that I was not currently under observation. For a covert and criminal organization, trailing me and discovering my chosen hiding spot should have been trivial. Thus, this option was risky. Were I truly foolhardy, I could simply keep the gem on my person at the same time I returned to Laverna¡¯s Cup with my haul. Then a simple trap or ambush or doublecross would be much more worthwhile for any potential aggressors. Foolish. I had considered these issues as I had originally returned to Ma¡¯Ritz, and I came across a possible solution. This was why I had pulled Marianne away from her shift to the service hallway, verified we were alone, and then quickly showed her the gem before promptly hiding it once more, which was when she voiced her concerns. This was why I requested a simple favor from her. ¡°I am unsure of how or why the stone glows,¡± I admitted, before adding a caveat, ¡°But as this is a regent for Sacred Artists to create a Mark, I doubt its properties are inherently dangerous. Unfortunately, rather than calming Marianne by negating the deleterious effects, she grew more worried. Marianne¡¯s eyes widened, and her mouth opened just slightly, before she shut it and glanced about nervously. ¡°It¡¯s a Living Gem?!¡± she whisper-shouted. ¡°Where¨CHow¨CWhy?!¡± she demanded. I revisited several of my assumptions, and I was glad that I had been correct in assuming the Blackjack held value. In truth, the assumption was not overly far-fetched. The gem itself was shaped similar to a thumbs worth of pyrite, though the material was partially clear and it glowed. ¡°It is. Blackjack. And I would like you to hold on to it for the time being.¡± ¡°It should be in a safe! Under lock and key! Where¡¯d you even find it?¡± Marianne protested. ¡°It¡¯s way, way too valuable just to be wandering around with. Did you¡­¡± she almost trembled. ¡°Did you steal it?¡± The other issue with suddenly owning an incredibly high value item when I had previously demonstrated monetary challenges. Fortunately, I had a ploy, though I found it both uncomfortable and distasteful. ¡°No!¡± I hurried in a hushed and hurried voice. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ do you need to know?¡± ¡°Tell me the knights aren¡¯t about to bust down my door, Jackie.¡± Marianne¡¯s face softened, though still she sounded worried. ¡°They have no reason to,¡± I said. ¡°It was paid for¡­ services¡­ rendered.¡± I left the content vague and emphasized, allowing Marianne to draw her own conclusions. Considering the nature of where we worked and her previously stated opinions, I found it easy to guess where her mind would head. ¡°No!¡± Marianne protested, covering her mouth. ¡°Jackie¡­ you didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°I¡­¡± I released a breath and a shudder. ¡°I do not wish to speak of this further. Will you hold on to this for me? Please?¡± She sighed, ¡°Fine, Jackie. Hand it over. I¡¯ll keep it safe. Least I can do, really¡­ though I wish you had told me you were considering something so drastic.¡± ¡°Thanks Marianne,¡± I said, handing her the stone, which she slipped into a hidden pocket lining the interior of her bodice. ¡°But I had to find something to give me an edge at the Academy.¡± Her frown of disappointment softened further. ¡°Don¡¯t I know it. I suppose some sacrifices are necessary. It¡¯s just¡­ ugh.¡± She finished in a groan, before shaking herself and plastering on a false smile. ¡°I need to get back. If you¡¯re going back out, stay safe, alright?¡± ¡°I will,¡± I told her, before thanking her again. She returned to the tavern floor, and I exited through the back-door, swinging around a sidestreet before scurrying up a wall to collect my haul. I would need to find a new hiding spot in the future, now that this location was potentially burned. A problem for later. As I returned to Laverna¡¯s Cup, I swore I could feel eyes upon me. I was carrying a satchel full of valuable and incriminating goods. Were I to be stopped and searched by a random patrol, my current identity would be burned. Very likely, I would need to escape to the slums. If I could escape at all. During this time of day, I could expect to see passerby, civilians and peacekeepers both. I kept my pace neutral, neither hurried nor irreverent. I kept my gaze up and forward, meeting the gaze of all that I passed, curling my lips just slightly in a calculated move to neither appear overly familiar nor overly disinterested. It was a subtle mask that I had developed with practice. Likely, most who saw my mask would not have even realized I had smiled at all. At least not consciously. Well practiced. Likely, my fears were unfounded. Never had I been robbed or searched on the HIll. It would be unlikely for this to be the first time such an event occurred. And the Hill lacked the more competent Low Knights, with the baron¡¯s men owning a monopoly here. I ought to have been safe. I knew that. But still¡­ my luck tended towards sour more often than not. It was in response to this anxiety that I began considering less subtle maneuvers. I can always take to the roofs, I thought. But it was daylight, and everyone further up the hill looking down would see me. They might not catch up, but they would have a description, and they might search the area that they had seen me last. In the end, I continued with my original plan, hiding in plain sight. When I reached the bottom of the Hill, near the Chasm, I had yet to be accosted. My fortune had held, though I kept my guard up even until I saw Laverna¡¯s Cup. Though, it was not as if I let it down once I entered. ¡°You came back!¡± The Tavern Keeper called out as the door shut behind me. I paused, unsure. Why had the fence called attention to the fact that I was returning, I wondered. But what was done, was done. I decided to play it off. ¡°Did you have any doubts?¡± I asked, glancing about the clean barroom. Unlike before, one of the booths was occupied; a massive figure draped in heavy cloth. I thought I saw the hint of horns below their hood. They were focused upon their ale, paying far too much attention to the tankard. ¡°Well, one never knows¡­¡± the Tavern Keeper said. His eyes drifted to the full satchel hanging from my side. ¡°Need a drink?¡± I had not come to drink, but with a possible third party in the tavern I was hesitant to reveal anything. I chose to bide my time, and I sat upon a stool and nodded. ¡°Same as before?¡± he asked, though he was already pouring the warm beer into a warmer tankard. He slid the tankard over. I thanked him and made a show of taking a draught, though the head of foam made a mess of my lips. The flavor was just as foul. But it was not the ale that had drawn me here. It was the fence. And with the fence, I made idle chat for perhaps a quarter of an hour. The Tavern Keeper, a man named Joe, had apparently immigrated to Southbridge from the capital city Kwin. He was listed as the manager of the tavern, though the owner lived elsewhere and rarely visited. The man must have been a masterful liar, as I would have struggled to discern any indicators that Laverna¡¯s Cup might have been a front for a criminal enterprise. As we chatted, Joe filled a bowl with warm water, and began wiping down the bar near where I sat. I frowned at the bowl. From as far as I could tell, it was merely water. No suds or surfactant or caustic solution. Joe was in the middle of telling a story when his rag caught the bowl just wrong and sent a substantial amount sloshing over the side, onto the bartop and onto my lap. I scooted away from the bartop a second later, but my tunic and pants had already been soaked. I leapt to my feet, eyes narrowed at Joe. This ploy had been unnecessary, I felt certain. ¡°Sorry!¡± he said, sounding genuine and profuse, even to my ears. ¡°I don¡¯t know how that happened¡­ but it¡¯s completely my fault. Can I help you get cleaned up? And the drink¡¯s on me, least I can do.¡± ¡°That depends,¡± I said, feeling as though I was repeating myself. ¡°Do you have a clean set of clothing available?¡± ¡°Ah¡­ well, maybe not your exact size. But we¡¯ve got some space in back with a heater, maybe you can dry out there? I¡¯ll bring you your drink, of course!¡± I grumbled and sighed, letting my irritation show, made a theater of it. But finally, I relented. ¡°Very well,¡± I said. ¡°But this better not take too long. I have other items on my agenda today.¡± ¡°Of course! Just right this way,¡± he gestured for me to follow along as he stepped out from behind the bar and headed towards a reinforced door. ¡°You¡¯ll have the place to yourself,¡± he said, pushing the door open and stepping in, turning on the lights. ¡°Don¡¯t mind the mess¡­ Wasn¡¯t expecting guests¡­¡± I followed in and the door shut. I noticed it had been muffled with padding from this side. We were in a room that looked like a cross between a central heating unit, office, and pantry, all in one. The moment the door sealed shut, he dropped the act. ¡°Did you have no other way to bring us back here?¡± I asked, crossing my arms. ¡°Mayhaps,¡± he said with a grin. ¡°Now, feel free to make it all worth it.¡± He gestured at the clean and empty wooden desktop. ¡°Lay it out, unless you feel the need to return that stone.¡± He was referring to the Blackjack which he had given me as a guarantee of goodwill. Otherwise, I would have been reluctant to bring both myself and my ill-gotten gains. However, what he said did not completely match with the impression he had given earlier. I called him on it, hoping to shake intel loose. ¡°Was the gem not a down payment for a future job?¡± I asked, watching her face carefully. ¡°An advance, I believe I recall you mentioning.¡± ¡°Did I say that?¡± he pondered. ¡°I may have said something like that,¡± he said, rather cheerfully. ¡°Pay me no heed then! But lay out the goods if you want me to buy ¡®em. I can¡¯t stay back here long¡­¡± he began a mock whisper, cupping his mouth. ¡°Else people might suspect something¡¯s afoot.¡± ¡°Hopefully your clientele is the sort to avoid asking questions?¡± I knew the question was a naive one. However, I still asked. It would not overly harm me if I were underestimated. Though I doubted Belobog would fall for any simple act. ¡°Well, maybe not,¡± the barkeep muttered, rubbing his jaw. ¡°But they see a man and a woman enter a back office for a questionable amount of time, and assumptions are made.¡± Once again, he grinned. I sneered, disgusted by the behavior. ¡°Fine,¡± I said, beginning to empty my satchel onto the desk for examination. Rather than dumping all the items down at once, I drew it out, placing each item while watching the fence¡¯s face for any minute twitches that might betray interest or value. The vials from the apothecary went down first. I started with all but the special three which had been behind a locked cabinet. As I set them down, the fence began sorting them by type. He shook them, held them up to the light to check for sediment, and he examined the handwritten labels attached to most of them. By the time I had emptied my satchel of all but the three special vials, I paused, waiting to see what he would value them as. ¡°Not¡­ terrible,¡± he led off, eyeing the satchel that still hung heavy, ¡°though I certainly hope you brought more than this. Otherwise, I might end up second guessing Belobog¡¯s judgment.¡± While he maintained a friendly tone, there was an underlying threat to what he said. That if I failed to deliver enough of an initial value, then he would challenge the foundation of our entire relationship. And considering he had already invested an expensive gem, he might attempt to recoup the cost. However, all of this was merely implied, and weakly at that. I would not be intimidated at this juncture. ¡°That depends on what you offer for this,¡± I said firmly, refusing to be cowed. The corner of his lips turned up and his eyes crinkled. He had far too many smile lines for a barkeep. More likely, the man was a swindler incarnate. His cheer left me suspicious of his true nature. Happy men never existed in his line of work. ¡°Very well,¡± he said. He pointed at the first and largest stack of vials. ¡°These are mixed grade healing tonics. Nothing above decent in grade. Retail would cost twenty Cee each. You¡¯ve got thirty-two of ¡®em. As you know, the house must make a profit, so I¡¯ll give you three hundred Chargers for the lot.¡± I quickly ran the math and scoffed at his trick. ¡°Not off to a great start for a fair deal,¡± I said. ¡°That would be less than half of the reported retail value, if I can even trust you on that front at all.¡± He shrugged, ¡°I¡¯m not sure who you¡¯ve done business with in the past, but merchants take up to three-quarters of the whole. Especially for¡­ improperly documented wares.¡± If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. I had rarely dealt with fences directly. What he said might have been reasonable. But there were multiple confounding factors in this instance. ¡°Distinctive goods that can be traced back to their original owners carry a degree of risk,¡± I said. ¡°For which the premium is charged to cover as insurance, or to relocate the goods to a time and place where they are not so well remembered.¡± He nodded, agreeing with me and twirling his hand for me to continue. Likely, he knew already where I was heading with this, but I would see it through to the end, regardless, for the off chance he was bluffing. ¡°Potions, tonics, elixirs, or any other consumable item,¡± I said, ¡°Are not distinctive, are difficult to trace, and are easily distributed. Especially for healing tonics, I would imagine. Fifty percent of the cut is too severe in this case.¡± ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± he said. ¡°But you¡¯re forgetting a fairly important detail here,¡± he said. A part of me tensed, expecting a betrayal. My false-arm quivered in anticipation. ¡°Oh?¡± I said, maintaining a neutral expression. But despite my expectations, no attack came. Unless verbal rebuttals counted. ¡°You don¡¯t have many other options to sell,¡± he said. ¡°And I happen to believe that some of the items you plan on selling today are on the distinctive and memorable side.¡± ¡°Perhaps, perhaps not,¡± I said, revealing nothing, despite the truth to his leverage. ¡°Unfortunately though, I already have relations with you and your organization. And as your organization has already discovered my identity and workplace, it would not be difficult for you to extort me. This is not conducive to repeat business with reliable contractors.¡± ¡°Well I wouldn¡¯t go so far as to say that¨C¡± he began protesting the allegations of possible extortion, but I continued, ignoring his protests. ¡°And lastly, you have already bought me¨Cmy loyalty, I mean¨Cwith the expensive gem you offered as an advance. With these three factors in consideration, it is clear that you mean to keep me in an ambiguous yet disfavorable position for this negotiation. While that may work for this transaction, lest you prove my assertions incorrect, then I will likely relocate and take my future business elsewhere.¡± He winced, ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re supposed to admit it like that,¡± he said. ¡°But you do have a bit of a point.¡± ¡°However, there is a factor to consider in my favor. As you have already invested in me, I assume that my services are desired. In which case, it would behoove us both to maintain my motivation to conduct future business or services. As I said earlier: repeat business, is the name of our game. Or should be.¡± ¡°That¡¯s where you¡¯re going with this?¡± ¡°Then do you refute?¡± I asked. He shrugged, ¡°Nah, not really. But there¡¯s a limit here. I¡¯ll see what I can do, but even if I bend over backwards, there¡¯s only so much I can give. We¡¯re runnin¡¯ a business here after all.¡± ¡°So long as it appears fair,¡± I said. ¡°Assuming it does, then let us continue under the assumption that a mutually beneficial price can be met. Please evaluate the other potions with candor.¡± He took a moment to re-examine the vials I had laid before him. He began his appraisal, this time hopefully more accurately stating the good¡¯s value. ¡°These are various aesthetics,¡± he said, pointing at the grouping of vials with the most variety in terms of size, color, and consistency. ¡°Variable worth and more difficult to move than health tonics. While even the cheapest is more expensive than the health tonic, I would give about the same for each.¡± ¡°Explain what you mean by aesthetic,¡± I said. He rolled his eyes. ¡°Dyes, scents for noble ladies, hair serums, skin softeners¡­ the list goes on. You didn¡¯t know what you were grabbing, then?¡± ¡°They had a decent value to volume ratio,¡± I explained. ¡°Even if I was unsure of their particulars.¡± ¡°Not a terrible strategy,¡± he agreed. ¡°But then we come to the third grouping,¡± he pointed at a series of small and uniform vials with clear fluid and an overall phallic shape to the glass. ¡°Male enhancements. These¡­ sell surprisingly well. I¡¯ll pay double for them compared to health tonics.¡± Internally, I scoffed. Of course, men would pay more to address erectile dysfunction than a generic health concern. In this case, though, it worked in my favor. ¡°Now will you please reveal the rest of your haul?¡± he said, almost in an exasperated plea. I obliged, next placing the three high value alchemical mixtures on the desk. He whistled, picking them up gingerly and checking the labels, then the wax sealing the corks, and then finally the bottom of the vial, where the glass had been stamped. ¡°Mid quality and elixirs of enhancement. No registration required to purchase them either¡­ at least not anymore. These are a great find. You found them along with everything else?¡± ¡°In a locked cabinet, but yes.¡± ¡°You sure you want to sell them?¡± he asked, surprising me. ¡°Why would I not?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not easy to find decent elixirs, especially ones free from the Crown¡¯s oversight. Figured you might want to use one.¡± ¡°Not all three?¡± I asked, considering the opportunity. From what I had learned, elixirs could enhance Mind, Body, or Spirit in a one off change. Some raised several, some raised a single one, and the extent depended on the quality of the elixir. There were many variables involved, though I suspected there were even more useful elixirs in existence, such as ones that permanently provided enhanced vision or hearing. ¡°All three?¡± he guffawed. ¡°They might be stamped, but I still wouldn¡¯t take that risk,¡± he grinned. ¡°I need fluid currency more at the moment,¡± I answered his earlier question. ¡°I¡¯ll sell all three.¡± ¡°If you¡¯re sure¡­¡± he led off. ¡°I am. But it is appreciated that you checked.¡± It almost left me feeling warm inside. Except, I could not be certain that the question had been false to begin with. If he already was aware of my circumstances, then he could have easily modeled my behavior, in which case, asking that question and confirmation would serve as a means to build a false level of rapport. This possibility caused me to quash any warmth I might have felt. Instead, I began piling the artificed goods on the desk next. All of them, this time, instead of seeking each evaluation independently. He went through them quickly, muttering over each device. ¡°Communication devices are always nice, easily portable observation devices sell well with the right clientele, gadgets for someone with more Cee than sense, another gadget¡­ gadget¡­¡± He turned back to me. ¡°All of these are valuable, but only two will be easy to move. The rest will be a challenge, even for me.¡± I nodded, agreeing with the likelihood that some of the artificed goods would be difficult to move for a reasonable price and effort without using a storefront. Rather than contest a valid concern, I decided to finish this. ¡°With these, the alchemicals, and the elixirs, what is the total you offer?¡± He did some internal math, though I was unsure of how much was for show. ¡°Would two thousand Cee be about right?¡± It may have been a fair assessment. But I remembered what Kate had claimed for the Sacred Artist. I would likely need a few thousand Chargers to guarantee a Mark of sufficient quality. Two thousand might be enough, but it also might not. I decided to push for more. ¡°Three hundred for the health tonics, another three hundred for the aesthetics, six hundred for each elixir¡­ that¡¯s already over two thousand, and that fails to include the artificed items. Are you certain this is a fair deal?¡± I asked. ¡°It seems that this might not be an offer made in good faith.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t remember quoting that price for an elixir,¡± he mused. ¡°Should it be higher?¡± I asked. He shrugged and grinned. ¡°Maybe¡­ I could go as high as three thou,¡± he said. ¡°You mean that the two artificed devices that will greatly enhance organized criminal activities are worth less than several hundred Chargers?¡± I asked in mock disbelief. ¡°The communication devices that would enable a team to navigate obstacles or provide security?¡± ¡°Other options are available for that sort of thing,¡± he said, before admitting, ¡°but the devices are nice.¡± ¡°And the glasses with thermal and night vision?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t go higher than thirty-five hundred,¡± he said plainly. That would likely serve well enough. I was about to agree, when he held up his hand to stop me. ¡°Not that I will even go that high,¡± he said. I tilted my head, bemused. ¡°Or did you forget the down payment already, that served as a guarantor and security for your peace of mind?¡± ¡°You¡¯re taking the gem out of the proceeds then?¡± I asked. ¡°It would make sense,¡± he said. It would, if I ignored that the gem had also served as an incentive to serve his organization, and as a downpayment for a trial job. Oh. I realized what this was about. ¡°Thirty-five hundred,¡± I said. He opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it. ¡°And you tell me about this job you need done.¡± He smirked while making a show of rubbing his chin. ¡°That may work¡­ but I can¡¯t tell you too much just yet. Except that it¡¯s gonna be difficult and dangerous.. Lots of skill required to pull it off. It¡¯ll be on the Hill as well, in case you were afraid it was outta town.¡± ¡°It will need to wait until a later time,¡± I told him, before he sprang any further vague details upon me. ¡°I am a bit preoccupied this week.¡± ¡°Prepping for the Academy then?¡± he asked. ¡°...yes. Is there any action I can take in the meantime to prepare?¡± ¡°Maybe¡­ Just start scouting the esteemed baron¡¯s residence for now. We¡¯ll let you know when it¡¯s time for the job.¡± ¡°The baron¡­?¡± This did indeed sound both difficult and dangerous. That night I had planned to begin scouting further up the Hill, towards where the wealthiest lived in a neighborhood of manors surrounding the baron¡¯s estate. I had yet to travel there, as the peacekeepers kept their garrison there, and entering that section was not so trivial as the rest of the Hill. However, I would find a way, and I needed to, at least were I to accomplish whatever this task would end up being. Yet, despite my plans, my duties that night carried me in a different direction. ¡°Jackie!¡± Marianne called from our window, her head popping out and craning towards the rooftops where I waited. Her shift must have just ended. ¡°You better come down here quick, before Ma thinks you¡¯re slacking.¡± Confusion swept through me. ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked. ¡°I am keeping watch, as I have been directed to do.¡± ¡°Yeah, but have you not seen Tiff trying to get your attention?¡± I paused. I had not noticed anything of that sort. I had been periodically navigating around Ma¡¯Ritz, and it might have been a matter of poor timing, but I would expect that if Tiffany truly was seeking me out, that I would have noticed by now. ¡°Why would she? Is something wrong?¡± Marianne groaned, ¡°Just get down here before Tiff starts complaining that you¡¯re sleeping on the job.¡± I scowled, but swung through the window, landing in a crouch beside Marianne. ¡°I was not, and I doubt that Tiffany truly tried to gain my attention.¡± ¡°Well, we can explain it once we get downstairs. They had something they need doing tonight.¡± ¡°Who is this ¡®they?¡¯¡± I asked. ¡°Ma herself.¡± I refrained from issuing forth an indelicate groan. Though it was a near affair. Not long after that, I was once more on the main floor of Ma¡¯Ritz, in the atrium between the tavern and the brothel. Ma stood with her arms crossed and a stern expression as she listened to Tiffany. If Marianne was correct, and if my assumptions regarding Tiffany were correct, she was likely casting aspersions upon my character. Ma¡¯s eyes latched onto me as I entered the hallway, and she held up her hand to silence Tiffany mid word. ¡°Thank you, Tiffany. Why don¡¯t you head back to your clients while I take it from here?¡± Tiffany¡¯s brows flinched, which considering how her bun pulled tight against her forehead, was the equivalent of a scowl. ¡°I don¡¯t mind sticking around,¡± she said. Ma sighed. ¡°No clients tonight?¡± ¡°... No,¡± Tiffany sounded surly. ¡°My regulars find themselves otherwise occupied tonight.¡± ¡°There is wisdom in branching out,¡± Ma said, but somewhat unbothered by Tiffany¡¯s lack of business. ¡°Regardless, Jackie is here, and she is who I have a task for. Unless you wish to help?¡± Tiffany scowled again and glared my way. ¡°No. About time she shows up though. I¡¯ve been searching for her for a bit.¡± ¡°Yes¡­¡± Ma said. ¡°So you told me. Now off you get.¡± Tiffany stomped away, heading back towards the brothel¡¯s waiting area. ¡°The girl won¡¯t pick up a caller with that attitude,¡± Ma spoke to herself, before turning her attention upon me. ¡°It has been quiet tonight,¡± I said, offering multiple possible meanings, depending on the turgid woman¡¯s mind. ¡°Am I not required on watch tonight?¡± Her lips pressed together, ¡°No. It seems the baron¡¯s men are performing their jobs for once. Having another pair of eyes would be a waste. Though, I do wonder how effective those eyes are, as Tiffany was unable to gain your attention.¡± ¡°I was wondering the same as soon as I heard she was looking for me, from Marianne,¡± I added. ¡°I was watching from the roofs.¡± ¡°Right,¡± she said, frowning. ¡°Not what I imagined when assigning you the job, but I suppose it works.¡± ¡°Though it appears I am not keeping watch tonight?¡± I asked, as she had pulled me from the shift. ¡°Though, I wonder why the recent change, and if it will last.¡± Ma shrugged. ¡°Unclear. But those foolish men will return the pits they normally settle in soon enough. Something about water flowing downhill,¡± she finished, shrugging. ¡°Or so the saying goes. But tonight, I have a different task for you.¡± ¡°So I have heard. What is my task for tonight?¡± Her lips stretched out into an almost grin. ¡°It¡¯s been a month since the grease-traps were cleaned last. I need you to head down and push the muck through.¡± This time, I did groan. Fifteen minutes later, I had changed into old and stained clothing, grabbed my battle-ribbon, though I intended on using it more as a club than anything else, and I opened the kitchen¡¯s hatch door and descended into the rank cellar. This time, I had a better idea of what I was doing. This time, I made no efforts to conceal my false-arm. I attached a lamp to a lanyard about my neck, and I made my way towards where the channel exited the cellar and entered the sewers. The chittering and scurrying about the corners of the cellar were just barely audible. I tensed my false-arm, or rather, I sent the tendrils the signal to tense, which in this case communicated a sense of readiness. Its tendrils tensed along my thoracic cavity, a wave of featherlight pressure that almost tickled. ¡°Excited?¡± I asked it in a hushed tone, amused. As I was alone, I could allow myself some folly regarding my false arm. The false-arm, whether it understood me or not, continued twitching. I would have liked to imagine that was an affirmation. The alternative would be worse, I was sure. Within moments I had reached the grating that opened into the sewer. Sludge had piled against it, forming a dam. How that sludge had ever moved to begin with, I was unsure. I used the handle of my battle-ribbon to leverage the grating to the side. The chittering came near. Circling. Enclosing. These rats were far too aggressive to be natural creatures. The grating finished shrieking against itself and stuck open. I found the same plank I had used last time and began shepherding the stagnant chunks of grease along the channel, into the sewer. I tried keeping away from the opening as much as possible. Not because of fear, but because of the breeze coming up and out of it. The air felt slimy and gross and the smell could have been worse, but I was unsure of how. Just glancing down the dark hole in the wall, I wondered what else could be down there. The rats were already borderline intelligent; mutants, most likely. What other creatures lived down there. From what I had seen, the sewers were large enough for a child to crawl through, and that was only the offshoot of it that was collected from Ma¡¯Ritz. I did not doubt that the sewers grew in size the closer to the mainline they went. It was a fascinating system, and I wondered if Belobog¡¯s friends made use of the sewer network. I sincerely hoped that they had no intentions of having me climb through them. I shuddered in revulsion, just as the first rat made its move. It jumped down from a shelf, a trajectory towards my face. My false arm unwound and a tendril snapped upwards, whipping and coiling around the rat. It managed a furious squeak before its spines and ribs crunched, before the tendril tore through its flesh, pinching the rat into halves. Some gore finished the trajectory, splattering my face. It was disgusting. Silently, I reprimanded my false-arm. I knew it could do better. Or at least, I hoped so. To my surprise, the false arm appeared to react to my castigation. It responded as though to make the mess it made less offensive. One of its tendrils pressed against my face and neck, absorbing the droplets of gore. Unfortunately, this did not make it better. I grimaced. Another rat rushed from my right. Rather than risking the false-arm making a more disgusting mess, I swept my battle-ribbon down, still spooled, and clubbed the vermin, killing it and sending it flying beyond my false-arm¡¯s reach. The false-arm¡¯s tendrils twisted in my guts, expressing its displeasure. ¡°Serves you right for being a messy eater,¡± I said. The next rat, tendrils grabbed before it had the chance to attack. This time, it was crushed far enough away that the resulting blood-burst failed to reach me. An improvement, I noted. After the fourth rat, the creatures made a retreat, returning to their corners and cubby-holes. I finished pushing the gunk down the channels then closed the grating, once more locking the sewer and all that might live within out. While the work was disgusting, I felt some pride as I left the cellar. I had improved my coordination with my tools and assets. The false-arm seemed to agree with my assessment, it somehow burbled contentedly as it digested the material it had claimed. When all was said and done, dawn had yet to break, and the communal baths were free. I took a long soak, dried myself, dressed in a clean nightshirt, then tumbled into bed to grab far more rest than I normally did. I figured I could scout the top of the Hill the next night. Absorption 2.4.8 Absorption 2.4.8 The interruption came all too soon for my morning of luxury. Lucky Break (8/9) (+1) It came as a brisk knocking at the chamber door; I failed to recognize the cadence of whoever chose to bother me this morning, but whoever they were, they sounded far too impatient for the source to be Marianne and Esmerelda would never have bothered knocking in the first place. Knowing that there was only one way resolve this untenable situation, I groaned out a pathetic, ¡°go away!¡± ¡°Jackie!¡± Kate shouted through the door, knocking once more. ¡°Why aren¡¯t you already up?!¡± I sorted through my hazy thoughts, seeking out any reason to justify Kate¡¯s presence outside my door. I could not recall any planned engagements. ¡°She¡¯s not in here,¡± I said in a falsetto voice. ¡°Oh really?¡± Kate said, I could practically hear the smirk in her voice. ¡°Then there¡¯s no problem if I just come on in?¡± Were one to ungenerously describe the sound I next made, they would have called it a strained meep. However, generously, I more accurately said, ¡°No!¡± I hurried, ¡°Just one moment!¡± ¡°Uh-huh,¡± Kate said. ¡°Better get dressed fast, cuz I¡¯m not waiting a minute longer.¡± Putting off the fact that she was acting as though she were entitled to enter another person¡¯s room without permission, I began damage control.I rolled out from bed and slipped on a pair of soft leggings beneath my night shirt. And I finished not ten seconds too soon. The door opened and Kate barged in. ¡°Hurry up, let¡¯s go!¡± she said, her arms immediately roaming over the thin shirt material. I crossed my arms over my chest. ¡°Really?¡± I said, allowing a portion of skeptical disapproval to leak through, but also tinged with false humor. This behavior was not one I wished to reinforce. ¡°Yes really!¡± Kate insisted, either ignoring or failing to pick up my signals. ¡°You shoulda been up hours ago anyways! We gotta get going!¡± I rolled my head back and released some of my exasperation before facing her once more. I still held my arms across my chest, though now her eyes danced between my neckline and stomach. ¡°Your visit is a surprise,¡± I said. ¡°For I had not been expecting a caller. What prompted your visit this morning?¡± ¡°Pffsht,¡± Kate said. ¡°Hardly morning anymore.¡± I turned my back to her as she spoke and I began rifling through my trunk for more appropriate clothing. Namely, a tunic and chestwrap. My boots were already out, laying where I had kicked them off the night before. ¡°Anyways, hurry up!¡± Kate once again insisted. ¡°We¡¯re getting you that Mark!¡± ¡°...What?¡± I paused, taken aback. ¡°Already?¡± I turned to look at her over my shoulder, ensuring she was not playing some elaborate ruse. ¡°I had thought that had yet to be scheduled that that it would be later this week.¡± ¡°Yeah well,¡± she said, scratching an armpit. ¡°Plans changed. And since this is kinda sorta through a favor, we can¡¯t really push back the time. So hurry up! Let¡¯s go already! We can¡¯t miss it!¡± ¡°This¡­ is a lot,¡± I said, still processing. ¡°And quite sudden as well.¡± Kate groaned loudly, looking at the ceiling for patience. ¡°So much talking,¡± she complained. I sighed, shaking my head, ending my stupor. ¡°Very well,¡± I said. ¡°Give but a moment so I may make myself ready.¡± ¡°Sure, alright. But you better be fast! The guy was in a mood when he sent word.¡± I assumed she meant the Sacred Artist from the context, but I was unsure. However, though she mentioned haste, she still lingered instead of leaving. I ended up having to usher her from the room before shutting the door behind her. But even then, she complained through the door, insisting that I hurry. Her lecherous and forward nature had somewhat disturbed and distracted me. Once she had left, I had a moment to think things through. If I assumed that Kate was correct, and that my new Mark was at stake due to some sort of scheduling mishap, then perhaps time was of the essence. So, I did as Kate insisted, and I made haste. I dropped my nightshirt, wrapped myself, tossed the tunic over my head, then slipped on my jacket and boots. I left my hair and face as they were. My skin was smooth enough that foundation would only hinder, and my hair and eyes already were bright jewel tones. Admittedly, my hair, while short, may have been somewhat messy. An ignorable offense. Once I finished, I reopened the door and strode out, bumping into Kate where she hovered just before the doorway. Her pupils dilated as she took me in. She shook herself from her stupor. ¡°Finally done?! Because I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll get you another appointment with this guy, so if you want that Mark, you need to hussle.¡± ¡°Assuming the need for haste¨C¡± I started, but cut myself as I realized I had forgotten something that should have been obvious, and would have been remembered had I not been rushed ¡°-one second,¡± I said, turning and running back to my room and grabbing my purse of chargers from beneath my mattress. This purse was the one that held the bulk of my savings, not the day purse I kept in my jacket pocket. ¡°Now, I am ready.¡± ¡°Yeay, but what was that about?¡± Kate asked, her head cocked askew. ¡°I remembered I needed to bring supplies,¡± I said, skirting the topic of the wealth I carried on my person. ¡°I just need to stop by Marianne downstairs, and I still need to purchase a conductive metal for the Mark.¡± ¡°You got a gem too?¡± Kate asked. ¡°Tell me you already got one of those, yeah? Otherwise we might be able to find one in stock, but it¡¯ll be hit and miss, and we really don¡¯t have the time to track a particular whatever down.¡± ¡°The gem has been taken care of,¡± I confirmed. ¡°Only the metal is required.¡± ¡°Nice,¡± Kate said, nodding. ¡°What affinity did you end up going with?¡± I smirked, playing it ¡®cool¡¯ as I refrained from disclosing my choice. For by fortune and providence, I had stumbled upon a gem called Blackjack, which came with an affinity for treachery. Likely, that affinity carried societal connotations. Rather than admitting this, I offered her a coy smile and I led the way downstairs. Kate scoffed, but followed nonetheless. The early lunch crowd had already arrived by the time I found Marianne. Rather than follow me completely into the tavern, Kate lingered towards the back of the service hallway, watching while leaning against the wall with a foot propped behind her. I found that curious, as she was normally the type of person to be front and center. But pushing that aside, I waited for Marianne to finish with one of her tables. She saw me, smiled, and approached with a greeting. ¡°Morning, Jackie,¡± Marianne said. ¡°Kate found you, then?¡± She frowned towards where Kate waited, though the frown came and went quickly, practically a ghosting of emotion. Ignoring that, I answered. ¡°She did,¡± I said. The conversation paused as Marianne passed through an order to the kitchen. ¡°I was surprised you had sent her up on her own though.¡± Marianne huffed and offered a half-shrug. ¡°Not like I could tell her no. Besides, she knew the way. Why, anything happen?¡± She raised an eyebrow and gave a half smile, perhaps a false one. ¡°I know she is sweet on you¡­¡± She wiggled her eyebrows, though they were practically invisible against her skin. ¡°No, nothing of the sort,¡± I said, almost wincing as I remembered her barging in. ¡°Sure, Jackie. Sure.¡± She did not sound as though she believed me. Once more, disapproval ghosted across her face before disappearing. ¡°You and her off somewhere?¡± I nodded, ¡°We are. I was hoping you had that gem on you?¡± ¡°I do¡­¡± she said, narrowing her eyes. ¡°Why? Did she want it?¡± ¡°No¡­¡± I led off, wondering what she thought was going on, then shaking my head. ¡°My appointment with the Sacred Artist was moved up to today.¡± Her eyes widened and her mouth hung open. She squealed. ¡°Today?! That¡¯s incredible! What¡¯re you gonna get? Where at? I have so, so many questions.¡± ¡°The gem, first,¡± I said. ¡°And I am unsure if I have time to answer those questions now. Kate seemed to imply we were in a hurry.¡± Marianne turned her back on the tavern floor and reached into her bodice, extracting the glowing stone. She handed it to me, keeping it largely covered with her hand. When I had it within my grasp, I closed my fingers to block off the glow and deposited it in my satchel, careful to keep any onlookers from seeing the light. ¡°Alright,¡± Marianne said, beginning to head back out to the floor with a set of drinks on a tray. ¡°But I expect to see whatever you get later tonight!¡± Kate and I were past the Merc Quarter before she pulled me down a short street and into what could almost be called a culdesac of quaint shops. As they were located a ways off the main thoroughfare, the amount of foot traffic here was lighter, and likely, business was worse for it. It left me curious why Kate had pulled us here of all places. ¡°Is this where the artist resides?¡± I asked as she pulled me along by my arm, where her arm threaded through. ¡°If so, then may I remind you that I am lacking the conductive metal.¡± ¡°Ha! That¡¯s why we¡¯re here,¡± Kate answered, pointing out a smaller shop with golden paint decorating a window with elaborate curls and lettering which read ¡®Silverborn and Sons, Artificer.¡¯ ¡°They¡¯ll have the metals to choose from,¡± she explained. ¡°It¡¯s the only place I could think of that I knew would have it on the way.¡± I had never been to this exact neighborhood, but I thought that the name Silverborn sounded familiar. It was as Kate pushed the door open and bellowed that I remembered where. ¡°George! You here?!¡± Fortunately, no customers were here to be inconvenienced by Kate¡¯s brash nature. A moment later, a response came from further in. I followed Kate in behind her, though I kept her between myself and any potential source of awkwardness. ¡°Ack!¡± A clamor came from across the shop, before a gruff man appeared from further in, from what appeared to be a workshop. ¡°George is out,¡± he said in a gravelly voice. As he neared, he was accompanied by fumes that smelled of solder. He wiped his hands down before giving Kate a tired smile. ¡°And what can I do for you today, Sir Gaurdson?¡± ¡°Pfft,¡± Kate said. ¡°So Georgie-boy¡¯s off slackin¡¯ around somewhere, huh?¡± The man, presumably Silverborn, winked. ¡°Likely. And who is your lovely friend? From the Academy?¡± Kate pulled me forward until I stood before her with both her hands upon my shoulder. ¡°She¡¯s attending Academy for the first time this year, a Grace Path.¡± The man gave me a once over, eyes lingering at the top of my head. ¡°Grace, huh?¡± he asked, thoughtfully. ¡°You know, our sales could probably be improved with a gal like that working the front.¡± The speculative nature of his comment left me uncomfortable, which was worsened even further by Kate¡¯s. ¡°Nu-huh,¡± Kate said. ¡°I got dibs first.¡± Pushing through all of that, I gave an awkward wave towards the man and introduced myself. ¡°A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Silverborn? My name is Jackie.¡± ¡°Well,¡± he said, making an inscrutable face and turning back towards Kate. ¡°I¡¯m sure George¡¯ll be back by twelfth bell, if you feel like waiting. ¡°We¡¯re actually here to make a purchase for Jackie,¡± Kate explained. ¡°She¡¯s getting a Mark today and needs the metal.¡± ¡°Wire then?¡± he asked, rubbing his chin. ¡°I think we¡¯ve some in stock, depending on the type?¡± Kate nudged me. ¡°High Silver?¡± I asked, hoping I could afford both it and the Mark. But even if not both, I could always hang onto the material until another opportunity presented itself, and I refused to get a permanent modifier made from anything but the very best. ¡°Should have some in stock. Wait here¡­¡± he spoke, almost a grumble, as he made his way back from where he had come out of, towards the presumable workshop. I turned to Kate. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize artificed shops carried the types of metals we¡¯ll need for a Mark?¡± ¡°Yep,¡± Kate affirmed. ¡°Though only if they have a workshop attached. Most don¡¯t. We actually will need it as a wire of the right thickness?¡± I was going to ask further, but Silverborn returned, carrying a thimble of silver thread. ¡°Not thickness, gauge,¡± he corrected Kate. ¡°This should be the right stuff, and more than enough for a Greater. That¡¯ll do it?¡± he asked, placing the thimble on the counter and leaning backwards. I glanced at Kate and she nodded. I had only given the thimble a cursory glance, though the wire looked thin enough to run through a sewing machine, and the spool itself was even smaller. From my inspection, I would have thought the silver was rather plain and unassuming. But if it was the right stuff, as Kate and her recommendation assured me, and considering that I had no means of independently verifying the spool¡¯s contents otherwise, I quickly gave my approval. ¡°How much for it?¡± I asked, digging through my satchel for my purse. I was expecting the price to be indicative of the spool¡¯s size. As I pried open my small purse, the artificer answered in a roundabout fashion. ¡°Normally,¡± he put a finger on the thimble and tapped it, the pad of his index wider than the thimble itself. ¡°Now, normally, I wouldn¡¯t sell this sorta stuff, since I go through it fast enough. But since you¡¯re friends with Sir Guardson, and probably with George too, I¡¯ll sell it for just a bit over what I paid to buy it. That brings it around to¡­ nine hundred, thereabouts?¡± I winced and changed course from my small purse to my heavier one, where I kept the majority of my savings. Nine hundred Chargers. That was a sizeable sum. Briefly, I wondered if there was room to bargain. Though, bickering over the price was hardly a way to win friends, and I assumed that Kate would have spoken up if I was being ripped off. Still, I almost justified straining the relationship to haggle. But¡­ given the nature of the deal, and given that the price was purportedly near at cost, I consented to the price. It still hurt, though. I counted out the Chargers, all charged and emitting soft lights from the internal chunks of gem. I placed them on the counter, and he slid them off into a drawer. ¡°Cheers then,¡± he said, pushing the thimble towards me, which I placed in my satchel rather carefully. ¡°Have fun getting that Mark, eh?¡± he said with a chuckle. ¡°And if you¡¯re feeling up to it later, stop by to see George and show us how it goes!¡± Kate grinned and waved him off, once again threading her arm through mine and pulling me out the door. We moved quickly from there, though with Kate strongly encouraging haste, and while I had a general idea of the situation, I had yet to learn of the particulars. Thus, I asked why her favor had been called so immediately with so little warning. The answer came slightly more convoluted than a simple rescheduling. ¡°Well¡­¡± Kate had trailed off, chewing her lip as though mulling over her answer. ¡°I probably shouldn¡¯t say all this, but¡­ yeah. The Sacred Artist was robbed last night. Lost all his materials. Had to change locations. It was this whole thing with the Knights and the peacekeepers. Lot¡¯s of fingerpointin¡¯ going around.¡± ¡°The Sacred Artist was robbed?¡± I asked, practically aping Kate. ¡°And he lost his materials? If he¡¯s unable to perform his work, then why are we in such a rush to get there?¡± ¡°So, yeah¡­ you see, for this artist¡­¡± Kate scratched the back of her head, her cheeks slightly blushing, though this meant a bluish tint more than anything else. ¡°I kinda sorta was never able to get you an official appointment with him¨C¡± ¡°-What?¡± I asked, cutting in. When we had been planning, I had assumed, and Kate had assured, that the scheduling was practically a done deal, and the only question that remained was around if I would receive the Knight¡¯s discount or not. However, I schooled myself from showing further aggression or displeasure, as I reminded myself that there were other means to receiving a Mark, though the ¡®back-alley¡¯ hack-shops carried far more risk. I wondered if Belobog¡¯s organization had a method of assuring quality. ¡°But yeah,¡± Kate continued on, ignoring my interruption. ¡°He normally only works with Crown agents, like the Knights. I was sorta planning on sneaking you in on the books. But then¡­ things came up. This totally worked out in your favor, so, you¡¯re welcome.¡± Worked out in my favor? I wondered the reason Kate would consider this, but quickly arrived at a reasonable hypothesis. ¡°I assume by his ¡®materials,¡¯ you mean his inks, gems, and conductive metals? Does he still have the requisite tools to perform his work otherwise?¡± ¡°Yeah, he keeps his tools and pattern-book on his person. It was only the inks and metals that got stolen, since they¡¯re a bit bulkier altogether and he was working ad hoc outta this posh inn.¡± An interesting tidbit there. I filed it away for later, for several reasons. Continuing the discussion, I asked, ¡°And I¡¯m scheduled this morning as I already have my materials, meaning I have an advantage compared to everyone else who would have been seen today?¡± ¡°Right,¡± Kate gave a terse nod. ¡°The robbery put a hole in the logistics ¡®n stuff. You¡¯re actually taking my spot, actually.¡± She only sounded a little put out, but largely excited for me to receive my own Mark in her place. It seemed that the robbery would work out in my favor then, as Kate had said. Though this seemed rather too fortunate for it to have occurred through pure happenstance. ¡°Any idea who committed the theft?¡± ¡°Nah, but my bet¡¯s on Skingineer.¡± Skingineer was the predominant back-alley hack, though it might be more fair to say she operated a criminal enterprise more than anything. However, I had actually been wondering if the robbery had been committed by a different organization, especially as it had worked out so well in my favor. I would not have been surprised to see Belobog somehow had her hand in this. It was just too convenient otherwise, especially if I would have been unable to see this Sacred Artist otherwise. ¡°What makes you think it was Skingineer?¡± I asked. ¡°Just my gut,¡± Kate shrugged, before grinning. ¡°Well, that and some people saw Snake in the area¡­¡± ¡°I am unfamiliar.¡± ¡°Just a deviant, one of Skingineer¡¯s enforcers.¡± ¡°Just a deviant?¡± I asked skeptically. ¡°With that sort of name? Given the rumors about Skingineer¡¯s art, I would have thought¡­¡± I trailed off. Kate scoffed. ¡°Well, let¡¯s just say the guy is covered in scales, has a tail, and not much in the leg department.¡± My lip quivered slightly in disgust, though I managed to keep my thoughts to myself. I would not want to become known as an elitist. As we continued onward, and as Kate complained once more about how I was taking her time slot with the Sacred Artist, and how much I owed her for the favor, I raised a potentially sensitive topic. ¡°Does this mean you will be unable to receive the Mark before Academy begins?¡± I asked, as the Academy began within several days, and it seemed the sort of question I should ask with a hint of concern on Kate¡¯s behalf. ¡°Nah,¡± Kate waved the false-concern off. ¡°I¡¯ll still get one in time. It just means my slot¡¯s been bumped back a bit. Worst case, I¡¯ll get it done next weekend.¡± ¡°I see,¡± I said, making sure to sound adequately relieved. And then to further my act, and to perhaps fish for additional data, I asked, ¡°And do you know which Mark you will receive?¡± I attempted to sound casual, though I may have missed the mark, considering Kate¡¯s grimace and slight recoil from where she had linked her arm in mine. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. She frowned, almost scowled, and licked her lips with a budding anger. I quickly backtracked. ¡°Of course, I mean no offense, if this is a sensitive thing to ask. I did not realize this. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± she said, shaking her head and calming down. She took on a condescending tone though, almost patronizing. ¡°But you really shouldn¡¯t ask that sort of thing. Most people cosider it bad manners. Like, really bad.¡± ¡°Then my apologies,¡± I said, inclining my head in an informal bow. What I truly wished to say would have been more along the lines of pointing out her hypocrisy, as she knew full well which Mark I intended to take. Though she had aided me in setting this up, and perhaps felt entitled to the knowledge. I was not overly concerned by her being privy to details, as the growth of a person¡¯s Mark was an evolution independent to that person. She would only know its starting point, not its journey or destination. I could hardly understand how sensitive the question had been. Especially considering that her path at the Academy required a Mark of a certain nature. But, this was not a hill I planned to die on. Ideally, I would never encounter such a hill. Eventually, as we traveled, she decided enough time had passed for her trite and unwelcome forgiveness. She reached over and patted my arm. ¡°Apology accepted,¡± she said. ¡°Just don¡¯t do that again.¡± We reached our destination approximately a half hour after leaving Ma¡¯Ritz, even including our detour to secure the wire. Considering the distance that we covered, this was proof of our haste, as I knew from previous journeys that the Bridge Tower was quite the walk. And to no surprise, that was where the Sacred Artist was located. The Bridge Tower. The purportedly most secure location in Southbridge. ¡°And you said that was robbed here?!¡± I asked with a scandalized tone, intentionally forgetting an earlier fact. My question was outlandish enough that Kate recoiled in shock. ¡°No! Of course not!¡± she said, shaking her head then guffawing. ¡°That would be¡­ just¡­ yeah, but no. No. No, no no. After he was robbed the Knights relocated him here.¡± ¡°Why would he not have set up shop here first?¡± I asked, confused that the Knight¡¯s Sacred Artist would have set up shop anywhere else. Though, there may have been other fortifications throughout the city, such as the one near the training yard in the Merc Quarter. ¡°Ha, you¡¯d have to ask him,¡± Kate said, shrugging. ¡°Though the inn he was staying at before was pretty posh and that might have had something to do with it. It was up on the Hill, so it was supposed to be protected by the baron. Fat lotta good that did the guy. Heard the rest of the inn wasn¡¯t hit though, so¡­ sucks to be him?¡± Kate finished with a calloused chuckle. We made our way in through the same entrance, though this time admittance happened a bit more quickly. The Low Knight in charge of admittance to the Tower was a different one than from before. I had not seen them before, and while they recognized Kate, Kate failed to recognize them. After some back and forth, Kate secured my passage as a guest, though she was still responsible for my conduct. From there, we made our way through the byzantine and elaborate hallways until we reached a chamber hardly bigger than a storage closet, lacking windows, ventilation, and decor. It was here that we met the Sacred Artist, and from the accommodations provided to him, I could understand why he may have preferred to set up in a wealthy inn on the Hill. Naturally, I kept such thoughts to myself. The artist himself was a heavyset man with the typical tan skin and brown hair. His eyes were bloodshot and from the bags under them, he had gotten little rest the previous night. It was those eyes that he glared at Kate with as he opened the door. Before he could either greet us or turn us away, Kate made the strategic decision to push inwards, dragging me along with her. Given the size of the room, the space was crowded before we stepped in. The artist scowled and stepped aside, pressing his back to the wall as Kate pushed me into one of the two chairs, the one with the option to recline. The other chair was barely a glorified stool, and I felt some surprise that Kate left it unclaimed. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a workbench, where a handheld artifice needle gun sat beside a mortar and pestle, several small bottles of clear fluid, and a large leatherbound book. Rather than sitting down himself, and perhaps a touch affronted, the artist said with a no-nonsense voice, ¡°I told you that I¡¯m not taking any appointments today!¡± he said. ¡°Well, not for me personally, anyway,¡± Kate replied, almost glibly. ¡°Thanks for sending word of that, by the way.¡± Even as she spoke I regretted her words, because that was hardly the method to endear oneself to a person that could still choose to decline their services. Either Kate had not considered this, which was possible, she knew something I did not, or there was also the possibility that she had considered that rudeness might spoil everything, and then discarded that concern altogether. Any of these scenarios was possible with Sir Kate Guardson and her temperament. ¡°You know what I mean!¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m still barely put together here. I don¡¯t know what you and your friend are expecting of me.¡± Kate smirked, ¡°Yeah yeah, I know. But there was a reason my appointment was rescheduled, yeah? Care to remind me what that reason was?¡± ¡°You¡¯re the captain¡¯s kid then?¡± ¡°Yep,¡± Kate said. ¡°You think you can walk all over me then?¡± he asked with a touch more hostility. Kate blew a raspberry, ¡°What? Course not. I know that. We¡¯re just two people talking.¡± The man groaned in baritone exasperation, and I could not help but commemorate with the emotion. ¡°Well,¡± he said. ¡°Unless you brought me metal and ink, you¡¯re gonna have to wait. Like I told you all.¡± ¡°Huh, that right?¡± Kate said, amusement dripping from her voice. The man¡¯s scowl deepend. ¡°Yes. That is correct.¡± ¡°Well¡­ yeah, I could see the problem for working on me. Seeing as I don¡¯t have any of that stuff, least not personally.¡± By this point, the man must have been picking up what she was hinting at, but from her irreverent tone, likely his temper rose more quickly than his reason. Because he next snapped, ¡°then why in the godslicking Crown hating crack are you here!¡± ¡°Because while I don¡¯t have that stuff, my friend here does,¡± she said, nodding at where she had pushed me into the chair. The man turned to look me over, now hovering over where I sat. I could smell the spices on his breath. He must have forgotten to brush his teeth that morning¡­ and the night prior. ¡°She a Knight?¡± he asked, his tone still far more vulgar than I would have thought for anyone with ¡®sacred¡¯ in their title. ¡°Nah,¡± Kate said. ¡°You¡¯re being serious, girl?¡± Her audacity had apparently confused him. ¡°Even if I had the ink, what makes you think I¡¯d waste my time working on her? My contract¨C¡± ¡°-please,¡± Kate cut in. ¡°What else are you doing right now?¡± She gestured around the closet, implying that whatever the man had been doing otherwise was worthless. His nostrils flared. ¡°As I was saying,¡± he said. ¡°My contract is with the Knights. Otherwise, your friend will have to pay.¡± Before Kate opened her mouth again, he added, ¡°Upfront. Now. No discounts. And she better have brought her own ink and conductive.¡± Kate nodded, then glanced at me. ¡°Sounds good then,¡± she said to him, before winking at me. ¡°Just pay the man and get your Mark, yeah?¡± ¡°Just pay the man, she says. Well, it isn¡¯t so trite a sum.¡± I swallowed and nervously asked, ¡°How much?¡± His lip curled as he sensed my unease, likely enjoying a turn about after Kate had exhausted our welcome. ¡°Well, let¡¯s see¡­ without the garrison discount¨C¡± he held up several fingers and began adding with them ¡°-twenty-six hundred Cee is fair.¡± ¡°What?!¡± Kate squawked. ¡°Is what it would be if it were a group deal,¡± he continued on, a sadistic twinkle in his eye. ¡°I assume it¡¯s just you getting a Mark, since the Captain¡¯s kid doesn¡¯t have what she needs?¡± ¡°Just a sec¨C¡± Kate began, but the man simply spoke over her. ¡°Which means it¡¯s actually going to cost you thirty-one Cee. Upfront.¡± He held out his hand palm up. ¡°That¡¯s way, way too much!¡± Kate protested on my behalf. I would have said something, but my throat had suddenly dried and I mentally tallied my wealth. With the amount I had paid for the conductive, I would be surprised if I had more than three thousand Chargers. I might have that much, if I emptied out everything I owned, but I had a feeling I would come up light. ¡°Oh?¡± the man asked, turning to Kate with a smug expression. ¡°From your tone, I take it you¡¯re not up for getting that Mark then?¡± ¡°No, we¡¯re getting that Mark,¡± Kate insisted, her cheeks taking a bluish red tinge, a vein beginning to grow pronounced upon her forehead. Her pupils narrowed to a point. ¡°Well, good luck finding another Sacred Artist, because I¡¯m not obligated to do anything. Especially not if you aren¡¯t paying.¡± ¡°We¨C¡± I spoke, though with several abortive attempts at getting my voice to work ¡°-we, I mean I, can pay. I think. But it will be close. I might not have brought so much.¡± ¡°Jackie¡­ no,¡± Kate said. ¡°Two thou would have been reasonable. This guy¡¯s just ripping us off because he¡¯s getting greedy.¡± ¡°Maybe I should be charging more then?¡± he asked. ¡°If you want to make nothing, then go ahead and try.¡± Kate crossed her arms, jutting out her chin. Given her height, she was taller than the man and she loomed above him in what might have been intimidating, though her display seemed to have little effect. ¡°But we all know he¡¯s not getting business today, and even if he was, he would be getting maybe nine-hundred a pop.¡± ¡°Lousy contract,¡± the man grumbled to himself. ¡°But maybe I want a nap instead of working on your friend. Consider that, girl?¡± he asked Kate. She scoffed. ¡°C¡¯mon Jackie. I know a few people down in the Pits that do work. It¡¯ll be just as good and twice as cheap.¡± This time, it was the man¡¯s turn to scoff with a hint of indignation. ¡°Good luck with that,¡± he said, almost laughing. ¡°If you aren¡¯t flat out robbed, you¡¯ll be lucky if you don¡¯t come away with a deviation.¡± ¡°As if you aren¡¯t trying to rob us now?¡± Kate shot back. ¡°Crown,¡± the man swore. ¡°Are you this obnoxious with everybody?¡± he asked Kate. ¡°Maybe,¡± Kate said, stepping back and relaxing her shoulders. ¡°Well, I can¡¯t in good conscience send the Captain¡¯s kid off to the slums. So I suppose I could knock it down to a flat three thousand.¡± Kate huffed. ¡°Nah. You said you get nine hundred per pop?¡± ¡°For each Knight under contract!¡± the man said. ¡°There are other mitigating factors in play there.¡± ¡°Fine, make it a thou?¡± The man groaned. Haggling quickly ended, and I emptied the bulk of my funds to pay for the service, leaving me a scant few hundred Chargers left. I handed over the materials I had gathered, both the High Silver, and the glowing crystalline gold, the blackjack gem, though he did make a pinched face at the crystal. I rolled up the side of my shirt to expose the ribs opposite the myst egg¡¯s bindings. The Sacred Artist began an initial assessment, both between my side, my right arm, my false-arm, though I pulled that away from him before he could do more than prod it, and then he flipped open his leather bound tome and flipped through it, turning multiple wax like pages in bunches, before he arrived at the appropriate Mark. Or what I assumed was the appropriate Mark. The writing was in glyphs of a language I lacked knowledge of, and each of the semi translucent wax pages added a separate layer of what could have been circuitry. He went from glancing at the book, flipping several of the pages, to looking at my side beneath an artificed scope. He peered at my ribs, muttered to himself, and breathed his stink all over me. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. After he made several notes, he began washing my side with a coarse cloth and what might have been acetone. As he went, Kate made an attempt at small talk. She asked, ¡°So, where¡¯d ya get that stone? And what type is it?¡± I answered Kate as vaguely as possible, ¡°I traded a favor for it,¡± I said. ¡°And I would rather not say what it is, exactly..¡± ¡°Whaaat? Why not?¡± Kate frowned at the yellow gem. I refrained from giving her any reasons or hints. Before she could push me for further details, the Sacred Artist saved me from having to answer by reading through a questionnaire. ¡°Any active spells or Marks?¡± he asked. ¡°No,¡± I answered at first. ¡°Well, some passives, but they cannot be altered and should not affect anything.¡± He frowned at my right arm. ¡°Then, any ongoing effects you¡¯re willing to disclose?¡± he asked. I shook my head. As he continued his questions, he began grinding down the blackjack gem into a powder. He wanted to know more about my left-arm, as obviously something had gone wrong at some point. I chose not to disclose the details, and told him simply that my false-arm was a deviation. He mentioned there was a chance of a confounding influence without knowing more about how it had developed, or a more in depth examination. After going through that, he advised me to reconsider receiving any work without significant testing to ensure no further detrimental interactions would occur. Of course, he also stated that no refunds would be given if I did decide to forgo the procedure. Naturally, I opted to continue. During this time, Kate had remained in the room, paying far too much attention to what would have been protected by various privacy acts back home. After he finished grilling me for questions, Kate had the gall to ask the Sacred Artist, ¡°So what affinity is she gonna get?¡± Thankfully, the artist had mercy towards me or against Kate. ¡°None of your business, is what it is,¡± he said. Kate turned towards me and insisted, ¡°C¡¯mon Jackie, spill!¡± I shrugged in a hopefully playful manner, ¡°I thought it was poor manners to pry?¡± I asked, feigning a smile. Kate scoffed, ¡°see if I help you next time then.¡± She said that, but there was little to no heat in her voice, and she remained where she leaned against the wall, watching me with hungry eyes and a half a smile. Before the artist began, he apparently had a second wind of questions, especially regarding the Mark on my right arm. This was uncomfortable, as that Mark was what could be titled a godsmark, which was grounds for arrest by the inquisition. Fortunately, from external examination alone, one could not tell. Merely that the Mark was advanced. Incredibly advanced. ¡°Complex,¡± he said, before pointing out, ¡°I¡¯d be interested in learning who did the work. And who sponsored it in the first place.¡± Kate also perked up at that question. I shrugged helplessly but refrained from answering. Kate rolled her eyes and grew impatient with what she termed, ¡®the boring stuff.¡¯ ¡°C¡¯mon already!¡± Kate complained loudly. ¡°You¡¯re friend could certainly learn a few virtues,¡± he told me, referring to Kate. ¡°Excuse you?¡± Kate scoffed. The man rolled his eyes but otherwise ignored it. ¡°Well, if there¡¯s nothing else, we might as well get to it then,¡± he said. He pulled out a small tray full of solutions and needles, and he mixed the powdered crystal into a bowl with something smelling fairly caustic. He took the wire of High Silver and threaded it into a modified needle gun, which he then slotted a fresh needle into, he then fed a Charger in. He gave an artificed device a test start, causing the needle to whirr, very similar to a tattoo gun, with a thicker needle, and with the spool of wire feeding in from the top like a strange handheld sewing machine. ¡°To confirm, you want it here?¡± he asked, pointing at my ribs opposite to where my myst egg had bonded. I nodded while Kate leered at my exposed ribs. Perhaps due to nervous anticipation, I allowed some irritation and annoyance to escape. ¡°A little privacy?¡± I asked Kate. She snorted a laugh, as though I were joking. I quickly tamped back on the irritation and flashed her a quick, if nervous smile. The artist glanced down at his book for a last reminder, resting his wrist upon my flesh. He paused, a second, then lifted his hand and dipped the needle in the ink. Another test start. This time, a fine mist of ink sloughed off the needle. He nodded to himself and returned to my side. At this point, Kate interrupted with another question. This time, her question worried me. ¡°So, yeah¡­ but like, isn¡¯t there supposed to be a numbing cream that goes on first?¡± She asked with a frown. ¡°The local anesthetic?¡± ¡°Yeah, that. Shouldn¡¯t that go on already?¡± ¡°Yes, that is it. It takes some time to set in, and I was under the impression you wished to skip over the boring stuff?¡± he asked wryly. Kate blushed and scratched the back of her neck in chagrin, glancing to the side. ¡°Well, even if we did wait for it to kick in, I can¡¯t apply it since I don¡¯t have it, since it was robbed along with my inks and metals. So unless you wanna quit?¡± ¡°Would there be a refund?¡± I asked. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Haaa¡­¡± Kate said, sounding nervous herself. It was her tone, more than anything, which convinced me I was in trouble. It was almost enough to pre-empt a curse. ¡°We¡¯re good then?¡± he asked. I nodded weakly and dry swallowed. ¡°Might wanna bite down on something,¡± he said. But rather than wait for anything else, he began. At that point, I did curse. ¡°Mother¨C¡± I hissed out. Because his needle-gun stung. Quite a bit. ¡°Is it too late¡­ to¡­ reconsider?¡± I asked with a tight voice. The artist scoffed and shook his head, otherwise ignoring my complaint. The stinging sensation only grew from there. My false-arm twitched, either in commiseration or pain. I tried consoling it, worried that it would murder the artist and out me as an agent of the infested. The needle passed over a rib where I thought a tendril might have been, and I felt that same tendril tighten painfully where it was wrapped. I sent calming thoughts to the false-arm, but it was made difficult each time the needle and ink and wire thread rewove over what felt like the exact same spot¨CI gasped and choked on spit. Kate spoke, her mouth moved, but I could not discern what it was she said. My eyes watered. Each second felt like a minute. Each minute felt like an eternity. I needed this Mark. I felt unsure I could continue. But I needed to persevere! It was just¨C Just when I thought I could handle no more, a firm and calloused pressure grasped my hand. It squeezed tightly enough that it drew my attention away from the pain, providing a brief and very welcome distraction. My thoughts returned to a more controlled state, though the pain was still intense. But pain was nothing I had not endured before. In fact, I recalled that I had endured much worse than this. Mother had ensured it. However, were it not for Kate grasping my hand, I might not have gathered and steeled myself in time. At this point, without pausing his work, the artist reprimanded me. ¡°Stop wiggling,¡± he said. ¡°Otherwise there may be a deviation.¡± Kate squeezed my hand in her grip and mouthed an apology to me, though she remained holding my hand, which I felt incredibly grateful for. The needle continued its buzzing for what felt like hours. Where the needle passed, a burning sensation spread outwards across my skin, coupled at the same time with pressure from beneath. It felt as though my internals were swelling, the sensations entering adipose and muscle tissue, spreading even further than that even. It spread in straight lines, rather than following the tissue. While my sense could hardly be accurate, were I to describe it, it would be as a three dimensional maze, centered from where the artist passed the torture instrument across and into my skin. I had always thought I had a high pain tolerance; now I was revisiting that belief. The pressure spread beyond my sides, beyond my ribs. My bones ached. My tongue felt swollen. My eyes felt overly full. My temples pounded. The room felt too bright; my blood too loud within my ears. The scent of saline and copper filled my nostrils. The artist leaned in closer, peering through a magnifying glass as he circled around a series of swirling sigil, focusing on just the last whorl, adding what could have been considered flair. He leaned in closer, muttering, before flipping a second switch on his artificed instrument of torture. It went from a buzz to a high pitched whine. Electricity ran through me, causing my entire body to seize tight and spasm. I cried out, or tried to. My bladder nearly relieved itself. My colon flexed. Were it not for the absolute shame it would bring, and were it not for the fact that every muscle within my body contorted, including sphincter, then I likely would have caused myself great shame. I was fortunate in that regard. In every other regard, not so much. As for the process itself, It hurt. Terribly so, and worse than before. At some point, Kate asked with a wince, ¡°maybe lessen up the grip, yeah?¡± I came back to myself, and realized my hands were clenched tightly enough to cause both my knuckles and Kate¡¯s fingers to turn an unhealthy swollen white. ¡°S-sorry,¡± I managed. An indeterminate eternity later, the torture instrument switched off. After came blessed silence. Though my muscles still spasmed in infrequent twitches. ¡°And¡­ done,¡± the artist said, sounding self satisfied. ¡°That should do it. Course the standard rules go. No Alchemical modifiers of any sort for the next month, and avoid any further Marks until this one settles, at least half a year, though to be safe, wait closer to the full twelve months¡­¡± ¡°I had not realized there was a limit to how often Marks could be received,¡± I said, still attempting to distract myself from the weariness and the pain that was flooding all of my nerves. The burning wires had not cooled since the artist had stopped, but they had continued spreading, reaching my hips and my neck and continuing onward from there. ¡°If you ever hear otherwise, you know you¡¯re dealing with a hack,¡± the artist said, ejecting the needle and wrapping the rest of the leftover supplies up before packing it all away into his tool-kit. I almost raised that point that some of those materials should be returned to me, except I doubted precedent would be on my side. ¡°Now that you¡¯re done, give it a chance to settle before moving around too much.¡± ¡°Does she have to?¡± Kate asked. ¡°Wait, that is?¡± ¡°Well, no. But it¡¯ll burn for a couple of days and movement exacerbates that pain.¡± ¡°Will it have deleterious effects if I do move about?¡± I asked, concerned. ¡°Other than the pain?¡± he asked. ¡°Not really, no. Not like the circuits would tear. Least they shouldn¡¯t.¡± ¡°See?¡± Kate said. ¡°We¡¯re fine, then. Wanna go test it out?¡± ¡°Wait for me to bandage your friend up first,¡± he said, pulling out dirty-gray looking strips of cloth, along with a cloudy cream. The cream itself was an antiseptic, and not, the pain relieving numbing agent. Otherwise I may have revised my unwillingness to commit murder. ¡°You wanted to test it?¡± I asked Kate, taking my attention off the bandaging. ¡°So, what did you have in mind?¡± I winced as the artist sprayed his raw and bloody canvas with another caustic solution. He wrapped it with bandages next. ¡°Aw, nothing too crazy,¡± Kate said. ¡°Just some light sparring? Give it a go, see what it does?¡± The artist finished tightening the bandages around my sides a bit too vigorously as he scoffed. ¡°You know how to take care of it?¡± he asked. Kate sucked both her lips in and looked down at the ground, but otherwise allowed me the initiative. ¡°As in aftercare instructions?¡± I asked. ¡°Well, yes. I wouldn¡¯t want to see my work go to waste.¡± ¡°Nor would I¨C¡± I started to say. ¡°Pffft,¡± Kate blew a raspberry, ¡°I¡¯ll fill her in if she has any questions.¡± She put a heavy palm on my shoulder and began somehow pulling me upwards from the chair and towards the door. The artist rolled his bloodshot eyes and huffed, seemingly content with Kate¡¯s obvious disregard for proper protocol. Perhaps, I thought, he was inured to this behavior. But before I allowed her to lift me from my chair, I thought to ask one question at least before all else. ¡°What ability will this Mark first grant me?¡± ¡°You mean which Greater Glyph?¡± the man asked, his lips partially sneering. ¡°You mean you don¡¯t already know?¡± My cheeks warmed in embarrassment as I wilted beneath the artist''s judgemental gaze. Kate coughed, ¡°No, of course she knows,¡± Kate said. ¡°We picked it out together. She¡¯s probably wondering what sort of difference it¡¯ll make out the gate. You know?¡± He made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat. ¡°No, I do not. Most Marks take weeks to grow and acclimate.¡± I wanted to ask for a follow up appointment, to wonder if I would indeed need to wait weeks, or if that was merely a worst case scenario. However, Kate was pulling me, and after sitting through this room in such agony for the past eternity, I had no more desire to remain. I justified the failure to ask follow up questions as a desire to avoid revealing my ignorance, though more than likely I was merely embarrassed. Soon, we were out the door, leaving the irritable Sacred Artist behind, with me lagging in following Kate. My right side felt overly tight, and I found myself nearly limping, though I was unsure why. My hips and waist were far more sore than the rest of me, and the man¡¯s hot needle had never passed anywhere close to there. Kate, in a surprising show of concern, slowed her pace, and supported my shoulders gently by wrapping her arm around me. Normally, I would have played somewhat coy. Normally, I would have avoided physical contact. But now, the warmth of the half embrace felt nice, along with the safety that her presence implied. At least, it comforted me until she next spoke, bringing up a previous topic. ¡°So, sparring?¡± Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
    • Athleticism I (1/9):
      • Climbing I (4/9)
        • Featherlight I (4/9)
        • Inversion (2/9)
      • Gymnastics (4/9)
    • Stealth I (8/9)
      • Trackless Tracks I (3/9)
        • Area Coverage (5/9)
      • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
    • Eschiver I (2/9)
      • Evasion I (1/9)
        • Impending Sense (3/9)
      • Lucky Break (8/9) (+1)
  • Courtly Dancing: Treachery (1/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (6/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (3/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.4.9 I struggled to maintain my gait as we made our way back through the city. My legs felt tight and overfull, almost as though they were sausages on the verge of bursting. Somehow, someway, the constituent parts of my newest Mark were still actively spreading. It would perhaps be an understatement to say it was uncomfortable, walking halfway across the city after receiving a surgery without anesthesia. However, there was some mercy to be found. For as we made our way, Kate actively supported me, allowing me to lean against her as she wrapped a protective arm about my shoulders. Naturally, she glared off anyone that might have obstructed our path. All too soon, we reached the training field, where I looked at the sand covered floor with much apprehension. It was at this point that I felt I may need to directly contradict Kate regarding her plans to ¡®spar.¡¯ I did not want to spar. ¡°Relax,¡± said Kate, glancing down at me with a wry smirk. ¡°Please,¡± I scoffed. ¡°I am as relaxed as is possible, at least under these circumstances.¡± Kate guffawed. ¡°I feel you tightening up there,¡± Kate said. ¡°That¡¯s the opposite of what you should be doing.¡± I grimaced as I had been called out on my obvious lie. I was not even sure why I had lied in the first place, though I assumed I had a good reason for doing so. However, that being said, Kate was correct. I had tightened up as we approached the training field; my legs and core felt the worse for doing so. As I had already been called out on my deceit, I attempted to salvage what value I could. ¡°Will we not be sparring then?¡± I asked, allowing a hopeful tint to enter my voice. ¡°Yeah¡­ but no. Not sparring. I¡¯ll just show you some of the stretches and exercises you need to do to help further things along.¡± Kate ducked under the barricade between the training field and the Merc Quarter, before lifting it to allow me easier passage. Once again, I joined her by her side. I may have blown out a breath in relief. The tension I had already been holding due to my apprehension began to fade. We continued towards an empty plot of sand where Kate demonstrated several stretches and calisthenics that the Knights used to speed up their own recovery and to ensure maximum results. The exercises felt a lot like yoga. I humored myself by imagining burly Knights practicing positions such as ¡®downward facing dog.¡¯ It was as Kate was watching me perform these stretches and offering advice, that we were interrupted by one of Kate¡¯s friends, none other than Gregory Silverborn. ¡°Sorry that I missed you,¡± the boy said from across the fence, after he caught Kate¡¯s attention. I continued holding my pose, though I ensured I was facing towards them and near enough to listen and perhaps join the conversation, should that be required. ¡°What brought you by the shop?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°Your old man didn¡¯t tell you?¡± Kate said, giving Gregory a look of casual comprehension. ¡°Maybe?¡± Gregory shrugged. ¡°He mentioned you came in with a friend and might be back later. I figured you¡¯d be here though, breaking things in. At least if you got a Mark, which¡­ I¡¯m assuming you did?¡± Gregory finished with a note of uncertainty. ¡°So he did tell you then,¡± Kate said, grinning. ¡°Well¡­ not exactly,¡± Gregory said. ¡°But I inferred from the missing spool of wire. We had to pause one of our jobs.¡± It sounded like he would say more, perhaps noting the inconvenience of lacking the required materials to finish whatever he had been planning to artifice. Though before he issued this complaint, he shut his mouth and winced, just slightly. Naturally, Kate ignored the boy¡¯s discomfort. ¡°Oh yeah?¡± Kate asked. ¡°What were you guys working on?¡± Perhaps she was not so indifferent, afterall. Gregory shrugged. ¡°Just something to help with schoolwork,¡± he said, then he shook his head and changed the subject. ¡°But, ignoring that, I believe a congratulations is in order for your¡­ friend?¡± he trailed off, glancing my way meaningfully. ¡°Yeah! You¡¯ve met Jackie before?¡± Kate said, waving me over. I ended my stretch, climbed up from the ground, and then joined Kate by the fence. ¡°Have we?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°Met, that is.¡± ¡°Briefly, perhaps.¡± I said, avoiding the unpleasant memories I had, thanks to him. Or attempting to avoid them, anyways. But the boy had expressed strong prejudices towards non-humans. ¡°Whatever. You did or didn¡¯t, doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Kate said. ¡°I managed to get her a Greater Mark for Academy.¡± ¡°Greater?!¡± Gregory said. ¡°Since you¡¯re here, you¡¯re doing the warrior path then?¡± he asked me. ¡°Grace, actually,¡± Kate answered on my behalf. ¡°Really?¡± Gregory asks, raising his eyebrows. ¡°And you got her that Greater Mark?¡± He sounded a trite jealous. I could have jumped in at this point and claimed credit for raising the funds and materials, but that would raise the question regarding the methods I used to gain those in the first place. And besides, from Gregory¡¯s attention, it was clear he had come for Kate, and not myself. I decided to allow Kate to do as her brash nature compelled. ¡°Yep,¡± Kate said, flexing her forearms and admiring her own musculature. ¡°Pretty great, I know.¡± ¡°It¡¯s just¡­¡± Gregory trailed off for a moment, gathering his thoughts. ¡°...surprising? Surprising.¡± He nodded to himself, as though answering a question that none had heard but him. ¡°Yeah?¡± Kate asked. ¡°That I was able to do that? Or what?¡± ¡°More that you would choose to do so,¡± he said, frowning at me. ¡°For her.¡± ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± Kate asked, smirking at him. She threw an arm around my shoulders. ¡°Jealous?¡± she asked. Gregory scoffed, and under his breath he muttered, ¡°A bit, yeah.¡± A somewhat awkward lull occurred in the conversation. Kate must have decided she had enough of that, because she shrugged and started to turn away from Gregory, dismissing him. I worried I would be left hanging there, but she nudged me as she went, pulling me along with her. ¡°Wait!¡± Gregory called out before we had completed turning. Kate groaned and looked back towards Gregory. ¡°Yeah?¡± Kate asked, a hint of impatience held in her voice. ¡°Uh¡­¡± he said, awkwardly, mumbling again, though this time inaudible. ¡°Yeah?!¡± Kate asked, a bit more forcefully, definitely more irritably. ¡°I asked if you wanted to walk to the Academy with me next week¡­¡± ¡°What?¡± Kate asked, ¡°why?¡± Gregory grimaced and coughed, but otherwise failed to answer. ¡°Whatever, doesn¡¯t matter. I can swing by the shop I guess. But you better be able to keep up.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± he said, sounding relieved. ¡°You¡¯re sure you can?¡± Kate asked, sounding amused for some reason. Gregory takes no time to think about it, giving a quick and terse nod and a small smile. Kate then continued her turn, pulling me back towards the sand pit. ¡°See you then!¡± Gregory called out after us. ¡°Uh-huh,¡± Kate answered, uninterested. Gregory lingered for a bit while Kate resumed her instruction, but by minutes later, he had left. After a few minutes longer, it became clear that Kate was not going to address that anything had happened. I decided to broach the subject, as she would not. ¡°Is Gregory Silverborn not your friend?¡± I asked her. ¡°Huh? Yeah, I guess.¡± Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! I could think of a few ways to casually ask this, but most of those ways were offensive in some manner. Thus, I chose to tease her in my asking, in order to soften the sting of it and still gather the information that I required. ¡°Do you have many of them?¡± I asked. ¡°Many of what?¡± Kate asked, narrowing her eyes my way. ¡°Friends.¡± For a moment, I worried that my humor fell over flat. But after that awkward pause, she gave gave a brief laugh. ¡°I have a few, but yeah¡­ I don¡¯t need many. I don¡¯t see the need for them, really.¡± ¡°Quality over quantity then?¡± I asked for clarification. ¡°Something like that,¡± Kate said. ¡°But Gregory¡¯s got even less than I do. Just so you know.¡± I rolled my eyes. As though I would fail to notice the redirection. However, I had received what I required. Thus, instead, I made a joke. ¡°You somehow made that into a competition?¡± I asked in mock incredulousness. Kate scoffed through her nasal passages. ¡°Everything is,¡± Kate said. ¡°Speaking of competitive factors then,¡± I said, changing the subject. ¡°Will you receive your Mark soon?¡± ¡°Should,¡± Kate said. ¡°Might not be until after the first few days of school though.¡± ¡°Will this delay harm your academics?¡± ¡°Pffft. No,¡± Kate said in complete seriousness. ¡°I¡¯m already amazing.¡± I worked my jaw for several seconds, losing my poise, before giving a playful smirk and resuming my stretches and calisthenics. While I had yet to take a look at my new Mark, I could already feel a difference in my balance. It would take some effort to fully understand and incorporate the effects, but I could noticeably better control my position, especially while moving. Kate noticed that my attention had slipped from her to the very same exercises that she had shown me earlier, and she gestured at me broadly with her arms, as though to demonstrate the proof of her earlier statement regarding the quality of her friends. It was difficult to dispute. At least in this specific instance. I would consider Kate to be a quality resource, perhaps even a friend. Though I still could remember her sword slicing downward¨C I shuddered and focused once more, ignoring the unpleasant memories as best I could. An hour later, after Kate was certain I was hale and understood all the movements I should practice daily to get used to the Mark, she escorted me back to Ma¡¯Ritz, providing support to lean upon as we climbed Blossom Hill. Once we had returned, she brought us into the tavern where Marianne worked, and Kate did not depart until ensuring Marianne both saw me and was able to attend me, or at least make sure I was taken care of. The attention was embarrassing. And while Marianne was working, in between orders she did dote upon me. It¡­ felt nice. Though later that night the doting grew irksome. When it came time for me to attend to my nightly duties, which was back to watching over the place at night and as the patrons left, Marianne insisted that I take time off to recover. I disagreed. I may have been recovering, but the Hill was largely safe at night, especially with the peacekeepers actually performing patrols, so I anticipated that work would be light. I intended to put that time to good use, continuing to test my body as its limits were altered by the still integrating Mark. However, when Marianne pointed to my bandages, which were seeping both blood and ink, I admitted that perhaps Marianne had a point. Especially when she went and spoke to Ma directly to lessen my duties that eve. Thus, around midnight, I retired to bed, where Marianne still waited for me to finish, as though worried I might do anything but rest. To be truthful, her concerns were perhaps valid. The next morning I was forced to admit that Marianne¡¯s insistence turned out to be for the best, as when I awoke I felt incredibly sore. Notably, I was alone this time, which meant Marianne had already begun her day, and that I had yet to be disturbed or called upon for any reason whatsoever. As I sat up, I felt around the bandages wrapping my sides, stomach, and lower chest. Where my Mark had been installed both above and below the right side of my ribcage, the bandages had leaked and dried and likely stuck fast to the outer layer of my skin. As I had not been given instructions regarding the bandages, in regards to removing or changing them, I left them be. It would be tragic, if after all the effort that went into receiving the mark was wasted by my own impatience. I doubted the bandages were ready to remove, anyways, as I had yet to fully recover in other, more painful means. For instance, my entire body felt overly full, as though someone had overinflated my veins with blood. A peculiar and unpleasant feeling, which combined with my tongue feeling swollen and sticky, similar to how it would feel prior to vomiting. My legs and core felt incredibly fatigued, similar to the aftereffects of an overly harsh ¡®leg-day¡¯ at the gym. So much so, that I lacked confidence in either climbing or descending the stairs. Seeing as I currently reside upon the third floor of a building that lacked an elevator, this weakness caused me some concern. Very likely, I would need to endure the pain, as I refused to waste my already limited time by loafing such as a roustabout. The discomfort was not solely limited to my veins and muscles, however, as even my bones seemed to emit a feeble energy which suffused my entire being. Even my spine, perhaps especially my spine, had a bloated feeling to it, which ought not to have ever been experienced. Especially as this sensation extended upwards, past my neck, and assumedly followed my brainstem up into my cranial cavity. This, I assumed, was what caused my current migraine. Given that the hour was still before noon, and considering my current state, I decided to pull the covers over my head and to bury my face into my pillow. I decided that perhaps I was entitled to treat myself to some minor loafing around. For the purposes of recovery. It felt all too soon when I once more had my rest interrupted, as I was visited once again by Kate. If I had my desires met, I would have been left to wallow until I regained the fluid movement I had come to expect for myself. Kate had a different idea. As per her usual behavior, she was insistent and demanding, enough so that I felt obligated, or rather forced, to submit. ¡°But¡­ yeah¡­ you¡¯re gonna need to get up,¡± Kate had demanded. She was now standing at the foot of my bunk bed, a stern expression upon her visage as she stared. I groaned in response, obviously protesting, though to no avail. I knew even as I voiced my complaint that doing so would be futile. I also realized that Kate was likely correct, that I needed to get up. Even knowing this, I still found the prospect of going out to be undesirable. ¡°Jackie.¡± Kate took hold of my blanket. ¡°Last warning. Get up.¡± ¡°But¨C¡± I began and was interrupted as Kate promptly tore the blanket away, revealing my still clothed form. ¡°Huh,¡± Kate said, visibly having scanned my hips and chest. ¡°You haven''t changed since yesterday?¡± But rather than protesting the violations regarding her actions, and rather than providing an excuse, I sighed and shrugged. Though after the twinge I felt from the motion, I regretted it. ¡°I guess that¡¯s fine,¡± Kate said after a moment¡¯s pause of consideration. ¡°Saves time now, though I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll hit the Academy today, seeing as how people would think you¡¯re a slob.¡± I narrowed my eyes. She sounded as though she may have spoken from personal experience, though I let that pass as she had brought up an even more significant issue. ¡°Academy?¡± I prompted. ¡°I had not thought that the school term had begun already¡­¡± ¡°Pfft,¡± she scoffed. ¡°Nah, not yet. But we need to get you ready for it.¡± It was at this point, as she waved her hand, that I realized she had been holding a semi-official appearing portfolio. It had been bound in the canvas derivative that was used seemingly in place of cardboard, and the Academy¡¯s logo had been painted onto the front. As Kate noticed she had drawn my attention, she grinned. ¡°We¡¯re gonna get your books and stuff sorted today¡­ ¡®sides,¡± she added. ¡°Need to get you up and moving. Otherwise you might lose mobility. Permanently.¡± ¡°...what?¡± I uttered as my thoughts caught up. ¡°How?¡± She winced. ¡°Well¡­ I might have misspoke a bit there¡­ but yeah, what happens when you heal tight without stretching and moving?¡± She gave me an expectant look, demanding a response. ¡°You¡¯re likely correct,¡± I said. ¡°Though I had planned on performing those later today.¡± ¡°That¡¯s good,¡± she said with a nod. ¡°But you still need to get moving. Exercises are meant to suppleh¨Csupplement, not replace.¡± Ignoring her verbal fumble, I conceded the point to her. Thus, with her help, we made our way down and out of Ma¡¯Ritz, and made the ten minute walk to the Academy¡¯s book store, along with an adjacent shop that sold an assortment of training gear and study aides. Kate had brought a syllabus for the Grace Path in the portfolio, and soon she was carrying several thin books, along with a tightly wrapped bundle of equipment which included breathable fabrics and dancing slippers. While she carried the supplies, I was forced to part with the remainder of my funds. In my past life, given the methods and purposes that Mother had both stolen and raised me for, I had avoided the poor college child experience. This life, apparently, I was not so fortunate. Once Kate deposited me back in my room, along with handing off the pile of books, she waited, perhaps hesitantly, near the doorway. As she stood there, shuffling slightly, while watching me after I put the supplies in my personal trunk, I had a sneaking suspicion that left me regarding her, equally hesitantly. ¡°So¡­ uhh¡­¡± Kate said, not quite stammering, but definitely lacking her typical unwarranted confidence. ¡°Yes, Sir Kate?¡± I asked. She grimaced slightly and broke eye contact. I decided to ¡®honey the trap,¡¯ as Mother had once explained. ¡°I truly do appreciate the efforts you provided, today,¡± I told her, voicing gratitude which was not entirely forced. ¡°I had yet to realize there even was a syllabus, or that I needed to make purchases prior to the term beginning.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± ¡°And I expect that Marianne will also be thankful, as she will likely share my new books at the very least.¡± ¡°Marianne¡­¡± Kate parrotted, seemingly thinking of something else. As I was standing before her now, she glanced my way and once again made eye contact. Given our proximity, and her current stance, she was able to hem me in by placing one arm above and to the side, separating me from the rest of the bedroom. Her breath brushed my cheek, and I felt thankful that neither of us had eaten any strongly flavored foods prior. ¡°So,¡± Kate said, in what I assumed was her attempt at sounding breathless. She leaned in further, partially closing her eyes. I resisted the urge to cringe back or resist, as doing so would immediately sour our relationship, and Kate was not entirely undesirable, though I wished we could have avoided this. But, given her efforts, and the fact that I had profited thus far from our relationship, I consented to furthering this investment. All of these thoughts came and went quickly, in the span of a second, before I acted on my decision and mirrored Kate¡¯s behavior. I lidded my eyes and tilted my face upwards to meet hers. Or lips touched. A tingling cold washed across my face and nerves, resulting in a not-entirely-undesirable warmth. I counted to five and then broke contact, pulling away before she could push for more and spoil the otherwise tolerable kiss. ¡°Did that satisfy you, Sir Kate?¡± I asked coyly. She worked her lips several times, ran her tongue across them as though to taste the remnants, and then smiled. ¡°A little,¡± she said. ¡°But I could go for some more, if you¡¯re up for it?¡± she asked hopefully. I smiled and patted her shoulder as I gently pushed her away. ¡°Perhaps some other time, Sir Kate.¡± She exhaled and partially deflated, though she did not push for more. Afterwards, she departed, and I was left to perform the stretches and exercises she had shown me and otherwise recover. That night, I resumed my duties keeping watch, though I moved as little as I could, except to occasionally switch which side of the building I watched over. It was as I came over to the back of the building, and as I peered over the edge of the roof, that I saw a familiar cloaked figure looking up my way. Pale skin, bright eyes, and a familiar, if unwanted face. She pouted, though she made the expression overly theatrical, given the distance. She waved me down towards her and went so far as to call my name, making herself a nuisance so that I had little choice in the matter. It seemed that Belobog had come for a chat. Absorption 2.4.10 ¡°I thought you might be brooding,¡± Belobog said. I had just come down to have a more personal conversation with her, not that I desired one. But if I had remained up above, I could not guarantee that she would keep my secrets private, as she seemed content with shouting her side of the conversation up at me, regardless of who may have been listening. ¡°...And you¡¯re totally right,¡± she added, a smug grin plastered across what little of her face I could see beneath the shadow of her hood. ¡°I really might have done something like that.¡± Already, I had come to terms with the fact that Belobog was seemingly psychic. She had already implanted a suggestion once, as benign as it may have seemed. I should hardly be surprised that she also had a Talent to read a person¡¯s thoughts. Though, I considered, rather than actual mind-reading, she may have just been relying on cold-reading¨C ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± she said, interrupting my train of thought. That confirmed nothing. ¡°What do you want?¡± I asked with a defeated irritation. Belobog pantomimed grievous offense. ¡°What do I want?!¡± She exclaimed, continuing the farce. ¡°I¡¯m wounded, Jackie. Why would you think I came all this way to visit my favorite floundering and poorly self-directed potential friend?¡± I had to run that sentence through my head several times as she spoke quickly and implied far more than each individual word connotated. By the time I finished picking apart what she said, one of the more prominent implications revolved around what could be construed as a threat. ¡°Potential friend?¡± I repeated. This was of course ignoring the fact that I would consider Belobog the opposite of a friend, or at the very most an acquaintance. She and I both knew that already. Her words meant something more. ¡°Well¡­.¡± Belobog said, trailing off. She then made a show of looking around, to ensure privacy. She then put a hand to the side of her mouth and lowered her voice in a hushed stage whisper. ¡°You didn¡¯t hear this from me, but the team is wanting results real quick. And seeing as you¡¯re already recovered from your new Mark and all¡­¡± Because of course she already knew that I received a Mark and that I had nearly recovered from the procedure. Though I still nursed my sides and felt twinges of discomfort whenever I moved. I would hardly consider myself recovered. I opened my mouth to say just that, but she interrupted me by continuing with her inane platitudes. ¡°So,¡± she said, ¡°This is just a friendly reminder, you could say.¡± I resisted the urge to throttle her. And by that, I meant I avoided allowing my false-arm to lash out at the irritating person. It was just¡­ I was unsure why she played these games. Both of us knew she was either the leader, or at least highly appointed, within the organization she alluded to. And as I had recently done business with them, and received, if one were to squint their eyes, an advance for a future job, I could more or less guess what she alluded to. In fact, I could have guessed all of this the moment I saw her on the street below. Rather than grant Belobog the satisfaction of a visible reaction, I asked in a dull voice, ¡°What do I need to do?¡± The next day was busy. Not only did I need to begin making token efforts towards the task assigned by Belobog, which left me less than enthused, but I also was forced to begin demonstrating efforts towards performing Cook¡¯s favor as well. Were this all that I was required to accomplish, the day would have been full but not uncomfortably so. But no. That was not all that was required of me. For I was to resume my night-shift in full. Additionally, I was strongly encouraged to begin my reading assignments for the Academy. To add to that, I still was recommended to perform the physical therapy exercises Kate had shown me to aid in a swift recovery. Fortunately, I was recovering. Though the process seemed exacerbated in ways I had not expected. Normally, after surgery or any of that ilk, vigorous movement would hinder long-term health. But in this case, it seemed to be helping my body to better adapt to the upgrade. At least, that was my interpretation of events, though I may have been mistaken. That morning, I ended up hiking across the city, into the slums. Then, because of course the Garnet Pit Crew still held a grudge, and because of just the general nastiness of the slums, I had to shake several tails. I only had to scale five tenement buildings to guarantee I was not being followed. Of course, while I was there, I attempted to scout the white Kaiva that Cook wished to reconnect with. I failed to find the beastkin, though I did find plenty of other Kaiva in the vicinity, including the round-ear variant. The one upside to all of this, was that I stopped by the same butcher that Cook relied upon, and that I was able to stock up on several pounds of dried meat. After stocking up once more, I returned to my scouting attempts. It seemed that the butcher was located centrally among the beastkin population. But while I noticed several beastkin, of both the sharp and round-ear variety, I was unable to determine any common gathering locations. Naturally, I dared not to broach the subject with them directly. Though I did spot several pairs of beastkin, and I did follow one for several blocks. But as I could not determine if they were either coming or going, less if their destination would even be of value to me, I ended the exercise before I completely exhausted my reserves. When afternoon came, I put my attempt on hold for the time being, and I returned to Ma¡¯Ritz for a potentially even busier night. It all came back to Belobog, I thought with some bitterness. My night would have been much less work without her. If she had not dropped by the night before, and had not left me with implicit threats, then I could have cracked open some of the mandatory reading assignments for my upcoming classes. Or, at the very least, ensuring I still had food and a roof overhead. But no, nothing could be that simple. I continued to grumble to myself as I traveled into the posher neighborhoods, heading past the summit of Blossom Hill, and towards where the baron resided. It was a simple scouting mission that I had assigned myself, as I would eventually be forced to commit to a job in the area. Afterall, preparation was key. Preparation would also keep Belobog off my back. For the night prior, when Belobog had dropped by, she had left me with an implicit threat behind. Certainly, while delivering the threat she had maintained a friendly air. And while she had avoided mentioning anything so crass as a verbal warning, there was no other way to interpret her presence. Her organization, which I had yet to learn the name of but that I knew operated out of Laverna¡¯s Cup, appeared to have the resources befitting a large crime family. They just happened to have a magical gem to act as an incentive while empowering a potential pawn to better serve them. They just happened to know what I needed, when I needed it. They just happened to bring me to visit them after I had made a fairly large score. They just happened to be able to blackmail me or worse, should I renege on any perceived dealings with them. That very same organization, through Belobog, had offered me a tentative assignment as a test, which I found undesirable for a multitude of reasons. The job likely carried a degree of danger which her organization wished to avoid risking themselves. The job might also be one meant to burn whoever took it on. Needless to say, while I had been recovering from what might have been a tattoo-surgical procedure, I had been reluctant to begin her job. Incredibly so. Hence, why I found myself blaming her and grumbling less than flattering things. For while her visit had been courteous, it had also been a friendly reminder of their exploitative leverage that they held against me. No matter how she phrased it, I knew better. I knew just what sort of situation I had been coerced into. Which was why, towards the end of her visit, my false-arm had begun twitching, and I myself may have been feeling slightly murderous, despite the fact that I had no intention of committing murder. However, that impulse, slight it might have been, had been enough to cause Belobog¡¯s already pale face to pale just a slightly bit further, and had been enough that she had promptly excused herself after. Another thought that I humored myself with. It was one I toyed with as I made my way across rooftops and up walls, heading into the luxurious pinnacle of Southbridge. Were I to simply murder Belobog and everyone in her organization, then not only would their belongings default to me, but their leverage would likely end. Assuming I could find all members of that organization. Assuming they lacked any failsafes or deadman-revenge plots. I supposed that I could always just disappear and start over elsewhere in the city. Although, many of the same resources I would need, namely to track down Emboru¡¯s sibling, would likely also bring me into the same circles as Belobog and her organization. It was something to consider, at the very least. But, I decided that prior to committing any hasty or drastic actions, that I should at least attempt this job of Belobog¡¯s, which was how I found myself on my current course. The most feasible worst case scenario would have me disappearing. But it was towards this baron¡¯s estate I now headed. The baron¡¯s estate was technically not on Blossom Hill at all, though this was only a technicality. If two hills abutted each other, Blossom Hill would be the shorter, and the baron¡¯s estate the higher. Though technically, the baron¡¯s estate in no way encompassed the entirety of that second hill. That second hill terminated at the chasm, causing half of it to be a cliffside drop down into the chasm. The other half was reserved for nobility and oligarchs, or however these humans organized themselves. This was why, on my way to scout out the baron¡¯s estate and its environs, that I was forced to descend partially from Blossom Hill, before ascending towards the baron¡¯s estate. Confusingly, the aggregation of both hills fell under the grouping of Blossom Hill, though the second hill was often called the Baron¡¯s Estate, even though the baron¡¯s estate actually only sat upon a small portion of the second hill. Regardless of elevation, however, as I made my way towards the estate, the environs continued to improve. The main trees separating the road from the buildings grew more plentiful, and the driveways connecting to upscale homes grew longer. And then, the rooftops ended in an expanse of green interspersed with spots of color, lights, and the occasional glimpse of glass or marble. The shops and upscale homes had given way to flowering shrubs and fountains. I could still follow the road, though I would need to do so on the ground. The trees, though plentiful, were short and wiry, ill-suited to travel by tree-top. To make matters even more inconvenient, the parks were illuminated by rows and strings of artificed bulbs. Thankfully, there were only a few passersby at the late hour. I would hear them before I saw them, or more importantly, before they saw me. The first time this occurred, I was startled, but otherwise kept my cool. When I heard the voices approaching, I dipped into the shadows of the nearest shrubbery and then crouched low. As the voices approached, it became apparent that it was a trio of women wearing elaborate skirts. They gossiped loudly and were attended by several kunbeor, as the humans sometimes called their domesticated Kaiva slaves. The three women spoke loudly, one of them joked about some son¡¯s member, and another practically shrieked in laughter. Likely intoxicated, I thought. Even so, I remained still and limited my breathing, and I kept a close eye on the trailing servants. As they passed near my spot, one of the servant¡¯s ears twitched, and their nostrils flared just slightly. I held my breath, already planning contingencies in case I was sighted. I doubted the three women posed a risk, and it was likely they would not allow their servants to give chase. However, having my position called out would greatly impede my planned scouting. Afterall, I could hardly continue if an alarm went out. The servant must have caught my scent, as he began to turn his head towards where I had left the path. His eyes darted across where I hid. His pupils narrowed slightly. His mouth opened partially, his tongue tasting across his needle-sharp teeth. And then they continued onwards. The servant said nothing, continuing to trail the women, as though he had detected nothing. While I could not verify this was not a ruse, I doubted that the women truly held his loyalty. I determined that the risk of him alerting the humans was minimal. And even if he did, I could likely escape further notice. Even despite the minimal risk, I remained hidden and silent until they were beyond earshot. When I was certain they had left, I continued on. During my trip through the parks and lesser estates which encompassed the hill called Baron¡¯s Estate, I passed several such groups of party-goers returning home. Many of them were accompanied by their kunbeor. Fortunately, the first kunbeor had been an anomaly, for the rest never came close to detecting me. Thus, as I continued, I began to grow confident in my abilities to remain hidden while moving, despite the terrain. And the terrain was challenging. I had never been here before. Lighting was inconsistent, along with cover. There were many paths and many lawns with infrequent bushes and trees. It was the inconsistency that caused the most issues. For when sneaking, it was best to have the silhouette overshadowed by another object, preferable one at the same level of lumosity. This caused some detours, as I chose to follow the cover, and not the paths. When a path cut through a lawn, I would go around, following the hedges and trees. It was in this way that I came across a wide expanse of a lawn surrounding a prominent gated and fenced set of buildings. Four major paths entered the clearing, and the walls were well-lit by torches. Multiple peacekeepers stood at each gate, while I could see several others patrolling the lawns surrounding the walls. As it seemed fortified and somewhat plain, though the materials appeared moderately expansive and befitting of the locale, I assumed that this series of structures was some manner of barracks for the peacekeepers, or at the very least for the baron¡¯s personal forces. In a way, it made sense, as the barracks were centered more or less on the pedestrian highway that led to the baron¡¯s personal estate. Naturally, I kept a significant distance from the building, choosing to cut through beds of ivy and thorn-laden flowers rather than risk being sighted. I had just exited one such garden, and was passing across a major path to reach the opposite garden, when the sound of boots padding across gravel came muffled through the greenery. The nearest shelter to me was the garden I was headed to, a hedge of thorny rose-adjacent bushes. In my haste to reach cover, I leapt over the bush to find a spot to hide. I failed to complete the leap seamlessly; my trailing foot snagged several branches, tearing them free and ripping the hem of my pants. Despite this, I landed in a roll and ended in a crouch, surrounded on two sides by cherry trees and on the other by the hedge. There, I remained frozen and hardly moving as the footsteps approached. ¡°Heard that?¡± a man¡¯s voice asked, quick and curt, and surprisingly professional for a peacekeeper. For the voice had come from a peacekeeper. A squad of five marched down the path towards the garrison. Two of them carried hooded lanterns which served nearly as well as a flashlight. ¡°Probably just an animal,¡± a woman replied, though her voice ranged lower than was typical, coarser as well. The first man scoffed. ¡°You know there aren¡¯t any here. Unless you mean a different sort.¡± ¡°Quit bickering,¡± another man snapped, this one towards the rear. ¡°Eyes and ears peeled. We¡¯re in the final stretch for the night, then we can cut loose.¡± They came into view. Their lanterns cast pointed rays of light over the leaves and branches, creating odd shadows. ¡°Don¡¯t know who thought lining the paths with godslovin¡¯ plants was a good idea. Can¡¯t see shit.¡± One of them complained; he was shining a lantern along the hedge near where I hid. ¡°I said, quiet!.¡± their apparent leader said, some heat in his voice. ¡°But there¡¯s nothing there,¡± the woman said, seemingly unconcerned by her leader¡¯s tone. ¡°Nothing would be stupid enough to be here anyways. Just relax a bit, yeah?¡± The man in question growled under his breath, likely in irritation. Surprisingly, he did not push further. I took it to mean that he lacked either the social capital, the wherewithal, or the authority to reprimand the others. ¡°Fine. Have it your way,¡± the leader said. ¡°We¡¯ll report the disturbance to the captain and call it quits. Almost done with the patrol anyways.¡± They soon passed where I hid and made their way across the lawns and towards the garrison. From further in, I could occasionally hear a din of conversation and laughter. The background noise covered me, and as a patrol just passed, I picked up my pace and kept to the edge of the lawns, where I was still covered by the larger plans, but could move much more quickly. At this point, I could have turned back. I had scouted a portion of the Baron¡¯s Estate, and I could already map several potential vectors for either escape or infiltration. However, if I did quit, I would need to return to gain further intel. I would likely need to do so regardless, but the more I learned now, the less I would need to do later, and the easier time I would have allaying Belobog¡¯s casual reminders. Thus, I continued onward. Past this point, the paths grew windier and were marked with signs done in golden filigree. Each turn in a path was lit with a bright lantern, and there were frequent patrols of peacekeepers, though they went in pairs of two and kept conversation to a minimum. It did cause some issues, but I found I could simply step off the path and crouch low to avoid detection. My Stealth Talents were likely at play, as I could not imagine such incompetence otherwise. My confidence grew as I continued onward, and I took several detours to observe the mansions as I went. They grew more impressive as I headed further in, and I was already pondering potential targets for personal gain. I imagined that spacing burglaries out across several months would likely net me large gains for minimal risk. The latest mansion I was detouring around was surrounded by an especially elaborate garden, complete with bronze fencing and marble statues. Idly, as I looked for means of ingress, I began to suspect that there existed hidden passageways for service. There had to be a host of servants to maintain such a place, and they would have needed plenty of supplies. This, combined with the lack of obvious signs of cart traffic left me wondering if there were subterranean roads that servants and deliveries traveled. I had perhaps allowed my thoughts to wander in my confidence, thus it came as a surprise when I stumbled upon an angry juvenile male ranting. He spoke with a loud voice, sounding not all too different from a rowdy drunk. I drew near enough on a path that I saw two figures lounging beneath an artful gazebo. I would have gone around, but my interest was piqued by what I heard, and I thought that I could perhaps learn something of value. Especially as infosec was taken so casually here. I paused to eavesdrop. ¡°Why, tell me why, for all found beneath the Crown,¡± the boy complained, ¡°That we just must attend another year?¡± the boy asked in a manner that was clearly rhetorical. As I remained in the shadows of the path, with vegetation obscuring the sightlines between myself and the teens, I felt relatively safe. The risk of discovery seemed minimal. Listening to two wealthy residents air their dirty laundry seemed useful. At least, potentially so. There was an intake of breath, not quite a gasp, but the inversion of a sigh. That was followed by a high pitch yet smooth and nearly melodic voice. The way she spoke, she gave the impression of a wealthy debutante that was slumming it with her friend. ¡°You know why,¡± the girl said. I could practically hear her eye-roll, though without a clear view, I had no way to determine that. After hearing her speak, I wished I could see her so that I could find out if her image fit her sound. A foolish notion, but tempting nonetheless. ¡°And you¡¯d best stop complaining so loudly,¡± she added. ¡°But tell me, why?¡± the boy responded hotly. ¡°Do you fear that Her Highness may hear? This is nothing that I would not have voiced in her presence. You know this. You must.¡± Her Highness? I thought. I knew that the princess was somewhere in Southbridge, and it would make sense that she resided in the wealthiest section of the city, but it was still a surprise that this boy was so casually speaking of his relationship with the princess. If not an idle boast, and if he truly was on familiar terms with the princess, then I needed to know who he was. And the girl as well. The more I heard, the more my curiosity grew. ¡°Oh, really?¡± the girl said, a smile in her voice. ¡°You would tell her just that, in that exact same tone? And you say I know that? Are you asking me to look?¡± ¡°Well,¡± the boy said, grimacing and shuffling a bit. ¡°Maybe I would speak with her in a different tone¡­ but my point still stands!¡± ¡°You¡¯re unbelievable sometimes,¡± the girl said, shaking her head. ¡°Ha!¡± the boy exclaimed. ¡°Not able to refute my point then?¡± he gloated. ¡°Not at all,¡± she replied. The boy clicked his tongue. ¡°You know,¡± he said. ¡°You know, that another term is a waste of time and resources. Our days could be better spent cleaning out the filth infesting east-side. Just last week, an artificed shop was robbed on Blossom Hill¡­ it is positively outrageous! And instead of making our city better deserving of Her Highness, we are stuck playing pretend at things that don¡¯t even matter! So tell me why. Why? Surely you must see some reason that I am missing. Inform me.¡± He ended on an imperious note. The girl groaned. ¡°You act as though I asked for this. I don¡¯t want this either. Do you think I enjoy listening to some perverted old man lecture us on economics? No! The filth running through that place, it¡¯s more of a cesspool than a school. I hate it.¡± The boy scoffed dismissively. ¡°Well, it sounded an awful lot like you were taking her side earlier.¡± ¡°She¡¯s the princess, V!¡± the girl snapped. ¡°Not all of us have a death wish.¡± I tried remembering if I had heard of any affluent boy with that name, and I was drawing a blank. It was likely a nickname. It was also interesting that he mentioned the artifice shop explicitly, when I knew full well there had been two shops hit that night. But as interesting as the boy and this potential blackmail material was, the way the girl described her school was even more so. It seemed that either she attended a highly toxic classroom, or that she was possibly reading more from her environment than others. ¡°Oh please,¡± the boy continued. ¡°As though she would execute us due to a simple disagreement.¡± ¡°Maybe not because of a disagreement,¡± she admitted. ¡°But for disrespecting her? Yes, yes she would.¡± ¡°Not after all Her Highness has invested.¡± ¡°We¡¯re just tools to her, V. What do you do when they break?¡± ¡°A disagreement is hardly equivalent to your demeaning metaphor.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± she said, nodding. ¡°You¡¯re right. Not equivalent at all. But you admit there are some parallels?¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± he said reluctantly. ¡°You called us an investment?¡± the girl said, leading him on as though he were a simpleton. ¡°The Imperial Mark, at least.¡± He admitted. ¡°And¡­?¡± she trailed off. ¡°And the rest of it too, I suppose.¡± ¡°Then, you agree that we¡¯re highly tuned and incredibly valuable assets then?¡± A brief pause. ¡°I know what you are attempting,¡± the boy groused. ¡°I refuse to allow it.¡± ¡°Really?¡± the girl asked, sounding shocked, though it was obviously a charade. ¡°What do you disagree with? The asset part? The comparison to tools? Or the fact that broken tools are tossed away?¡± He remained silent, but I assumed he was glaring sullenly at the girl. As their discussion appeared noteworthy, a wealth of insider information that was certainly to be valuable, I edged my way along the path, seeking a view of the two speakers, that I might recognize just who these people were. If they had useful skills, and if they were positioned closely to those in power, then any potential leverage would likely be worth whatever risk I incurred. ¡°Well, doesn¡¯t matter, I guess,¡± the girl continued, now speaking to herself rather than engaging in a conversation. ¡°But say you aren¡¯t a broken tool, just another disrespectful boy. There are ways to fix that¡­ Oh, so many ways.¡± The way she said that made me shiver. The implications there left me recalling my own time in an inquisitor¡¯s chamber. ¡°Please,¡± the boy scoffed, breaking his silence. ¡°Her Highness knows willing and able assets are superior. Forced compliance would hardly work in the long-term. She must know that. Yes?¡± It sounded as though he might have been attempting to convince himself towards the end. ¡°You¡¯ll tell her what she knows then?¡± the girl asked, the derision audible. ¡°Or how she acts? Are you so mighty and secure to instruct Her Highness?¡± The girl was now mocking him. ¡°Well, no, but¨C¡± ¡°You have not seen the things she¡¯s ordered. The things she¡¯s capable of. It¡¯s¡­¡± she shuddered, rubbing her arms. I was near enough to better see their outlines, but with them in the shadows, I struggled to glean their details. It was curious though, that the girl spoke with a degree of intimacy that belied her age. ¡°You sure you should be sharing that?¡± the boy asked, sounding concerned. ¡°I know you were warning me, but I cannot imagine that revealing this is anything but a liability. Besides, I thought Her Highness was immune to your Talent. Slander and libel are hardly what I would term respectful. The exact opposite, if anything.¡± Things were beginning to come together. The more I learned, the greater I deemed the risk of remaining. There was a significant chance that I was wrong, and that this was merely two teenagers parading about in their own delusions¡­ but if everything I had heard was true, then approaching them for a view could end in detection far more easily than I originally anticipated. To err on the side of caution, I began to slowly edge away from them, always ensuring plenty of vegetation obstructed any and all sightlines. Meanwhile, they continued. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± the girl admitted. ¡°Her Highness is immune to my Talent. But not Lady Trigg. That¨C¡± ¡°Say no more of this,¡± the boy cut in, sternly. ¡°It would bode poorly for this to be taken beyond context.¡± ¡°You just don¡¯t want to hear about it,¡± the girl scoffed. ¡°It¡¯s not fair that I¡¯m the one that has to see it. The least you could do is hear me out. Share the burdens.¡± ¡°No,¡± the boy said resolutely, shaking his head. ¡°I refuse¡­ But¡­ your point has been made, rest assured. I will do my utmost to ensure a respectful tone from here on out. Even if we are forced to endure another term of schoolwork. Ugh.¡± The girl made an unflattering sound, almost a raspberry. ¡°I¡¯m sure you suddenly turning over a new leaf has nothing to do with what I just told you.¡± ¡°No, of course not!¡± he said, likely lying. ¡°I would have remained respectful of our leader regardless. One does not spurn a Royal.¡± ¡°No, one does not¨C¡± the girl agreed, before abruptly stopping. She tilted her head, as though listening. I strained my ears and stilled my breathing, but I heard nothing that would cause such a reaction. ¡°What is it?¡± the boy asked. The girl hissed to quiet him. I now grew concerned. For as I had listened to the two, I had gathered enough data that I could guess who these two were. The way they referred to the princess, it was clear they served her in a unique capacity. The fact that they felt confident enough to speak of her at all meant that they knew they were valuable to her. But the only teens that fit that pattern were the ones that existed in her¡­ program. A program which was what basically equated to a paramilitary force of enhanced teens, though of course the city made a production of them. However, the seemingly agreed nomenclature for these empowered indentured servants was the Vigilants. Naturally, that name was far from consistently used, though it seemed the most flattering and the most often used title for them. And if these two teenagers belonged to that group, then the boy was likely Velvetcall. Which meant the girl was likely¡­ Guesswork. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. This revelation caused a chill to run down my spine. Velvetcall could control anyone that heard his voice, though the details on this Talent were sparse. I had to assume that he could not simply mind-control a crowd of people by speaking, at least not without spending some sort of resource. Public opinion was unsure about what it felt like to hear him speak; or if a person would even know if they were under his control to begin with. It said something about him, that even Kate was worried about running into him. His Talent was dangerous. But that was not what my current problem was. No, it was Guesswork¡¯s Talent that was causing me to pick up the pace as I left, though I still was attempting subtly. Even if Guesswork thought someone was out there, she probably would not know exactly where that someone was. ¡°There¡¯s someone there,¡± Guesswork explained, likely gesturing towards the gardens beyond the estate. I had not been watching her at this point, as I was angled away from them, but I could only hope that she had not been pointing towards me. ¡°And?¡± Velvetcall asked, unaffected by the seriousness of her tone. ¡°Many people travel that path.¡± Good, I thought. Disregard her. ¡°That¡¯s what I was thinking when I first scanned them,¡± Guesswork said. I had reached a gravel path, though I refrained from stepping on the noisy ground. Instead, I attempted to tread the narrow partition between hedge and path. This slowed me down some, but I could see a lawn up ahead that I could use to gain distance both quickly and silently. ¡°But then whoever it was stuck around¡­¡± Guesswork continued explaining, but Velvetcall was hearing none of it. ¡°It makes sense,¡± he said, almost scoffing. ¡°You were speaking loudly enough, afterall. I would not blame a pedestrian for listening in either... This near the estate, whoever it is, they are likely benign. You are worrying about things that lack relevance to us this night.¡± ¡°They¨Cshe¨Cit? This doesn¡¯t feel benign,¡± Guesswork said, frustration leaking into her tone. Not that I could blame her, despite however fortuitous to me that the boy¡¯s arrogance was. I was nearly to the lawn at this point. From there, I was confident in my escape. I would run freely without fear of revealing noises. ¡°A hint of fear¨C¡± she attempted to explain. ¡°Reasonable,¡± he said. ¡°Likely scared off by you¨C¡± ¡°A hint of malevolent fear. Greedy subtexts¡­¡± ¡°Who is not?¡± he said, amused. Their conversation was growing fainter, but I heard the next part clearly enough. ¡°They aren¡¯t human, V.¡± ¡°What?¡± Velvetall said, outrage clear on his voice, a sudden reversal of his attitude. ¡°This is certain? Vermin are not allowed along those paths.¡± ¡°It¡¯s what it feels like,¡± she said. ¡°But¡­ how? No, why?! Who permitted this?¡± ¡°And they¡¯re gaining distance quickly. Given the hour, and the feelings¡­ I think it might be a criminal.¡± ¡°If they are some bystander out for a late night stroll, then this will be highly embarrassing.¡± ¡°There not,¡± she assured him. ¡°But would it matter, even if they were? They¡¯re alone.¡± ¡°I suppose not. Easy to resolve this, however.¡± He cleared his throat then spoke up. Even though I was still on the gravel, I cut loose and began sprinting. As I could not be certain how his Talent worked, I covered my ears as I went. Seconds later, I hit the damp grass. My first steps slid as I changed direction, but I kept my balance and continued running. It should not have been possible. It was muffled, of course. It should have been inaudible over the thunder of my own movement and heartbeat. But even then, impossible as it was, I heard something. And then I felt¡­ something. This was not good. I slowed to a jog, then to a walk. This was fine, I thought. I would just stop, then turn around, and then¨C Not. Good. But why would I do anything other than this? A small voice in the back of my mind screamed when my hands dropped away from my ears. Well, my hand and false-hand dropped away from my ears. Because I had that false-arm that ended with a false-hand. And that false-hand was three and a half tendrils impersonating fingers. Which was basically the same¨C A squirming, writhing, heat invaded my ribs and collarbone. My neck felt tight. The base of my skull, especially. The sensation was growing to be painful. Why had I stopped running? I asked myself. Why had I begun turning back towards where I had come from? Back towards danger, towards enemies? No, that would be foolish, doing that. I would not have. This was¡­ But, why had I¡­ Why was I halfway to covering my ears? I wished I could say that I knew exactly how I regained my senses. From my perspective, they had never been lost. There was a dissonance between what I knew and what I remembered. Even with the warning from my false-arm, I still could not claim resistance to Velvetcall¡¯s abilities. But what I did have, was the ability to trust my previous judgment and then carry on and continue whatever it was I had judged. In many ways, this solution was terrifying. As an example, it would be as if a person told themselves they would walk ten steps, and then five steps later, should they suddenly see a cliff before them, continue to walk another five steps. Thankfully, there were no cliffs present in the park. Only vegetation, gravel, and manicured lawns. This made it easier to trust my previous decision to run. So, ignoring any unexplained urges, I resumed my course along the direction I had originally been headed, and I once more began to run, though my posture was made awkward by holding my hands over my ears. All too soon I ran out of lawn and I passed once more unto the gravel pathways. Regardless of how loud my footsteps thundered, I maintained my flight. But holding my ears was ruining my posture and slowing me down. I could be going much more quickly. And I was unsure why I was even holding my ears to begin with. It was highly inconvenient to do so. I dropped my hands and began pumping my arms, gaining much volume. Suddenly, I remembered why I ran. Mother take me! I swore internally. My mind had just been violated. I had almost surrendered myself to those disgusting animals. If not for¡­ for my false-arm? If not for it warning me when it did, I was unsure I could have resisted. That had been insidious. That left me feeling dirty. Spoilt. Filthy. Rotten. I could not describe how awful, gross, just altogether terrible and horrendous the sensation was; I found it impossible to convey this with words, except that I found myself loathing Velvetcall and Guesswork and myself most of all. ¡°I said,¡± Velvetcall shouted from somewhere in the distance, ¡°stop!¡± And then that something impulse came once more. Again, that unnatural urge. But knowing now what it was, how it invaded, I refused to follow the command. At least, if I were generous with myself and my abilities. But what I did was not quite a refusal. It was less a denial than it was a sidestep. It was then that I felt a raw pain originating from my side where I was still sore from my latest Mark. It seemed I had developed in a way to at least partially counter Velvetcall¡¯s terrifying Talent. This came as fortuitous timing. If only I had the chance to lift my shirt and read the new Glyph. If only I had the opportunity to perform rigorous testing. Though, as Velvetcall once more issued a command laced with his intrusive energy, I could not help but better describe my newest Glyph, or at least, come to better understand my new means of countering Velvetcall¡¯s insidious Talent. Firstly, what I was doing could hardly be termed countering, or resisting, for that matter. I was absolutely not countering or resisting anything he said. In fact, I agreed with him completely. I would almost go so far as to say I supported him. Certainly, he said stop. And whatever or whomever he was speaking to, they ought to do just that. Stop, that is. Fortunately, whoever or whomever he had commanded was not me and was definitely somebody else. Otherwise, I would feel compelled to stop, as was just and right and natural. And since I felt no compulsion to do so, he was not in fact speaking to me. In a flexible, tautological, and maddening way¡­ it made sense. Thus, with some frustration evident in his voice, Velvetcall continued shouting. I remember thinking that whoever he was speaking to should really listen. Possibly some unruly vegetation, I wryly thought. All the while, I continued my sprint along the gravel, the trees and lanterns blurring past me, along with gates to private gardens. Despite my speed, and I was certainly running with great speed, Velvetcall and Guesswork maintained my pace. In fact, judging by their footsteps, it became evident that they were gaining on me. I poured my all into my run, and I eked out a bit more. But even as I went as quickly as I could, I knew it would not be enough. I would either need to fight or hide. The next path I reached, I diverted, and then at the next fork after that I diverted once more. The trees and hedges formed a decent enough maze that I thought I could easily avoid the two Vigalants. Unfortunately, as I took turn after turn, I lost distance between us. This would not have ordinarily been a problem, as they would have been forced to retrace my steps, and likely lose themselves in the process, but for a fact that I had failed to consider. Both of them were greatly enhanced. Hence, their ability to leap above what should have been otherwise impediments. And all while maintaining a conversation as well. ¡°This is bad,¡± Guesswork called towards Velvetcall. ¡°Worse than I thought. They¡¯re resistant¡­¡± ¡°Do you think¡­ they¡­ have¡­ and Imperial Sigil?¡± Velvetall responded, his words scattered across his breathing. He, at least, was breathing just as hard as I was. ¡°I¡¯m unsure,¡± she said, her volume lessening and growing as the trajectory of her leap carried her further, then nearer. Guesswork landed on a lamppost fifty yards behind me. She hung with one hand and her feet pressed against the metal pole. ¡°Why¡­¡± Velvetcall gasped, landing roughly on the grass besides the path and sliding before regaining his footing. ¡°If they can resist commands, then what else might they do?¡± Guesswork cautioned. ¡°All the more¡­ reason¡­ to stop them¡­¡± Velvetcall said. He glanced at Guesswork and watched where she pointed, which was in my direction, before he began running once more. I may have glanced over my shoulder, but never once did I pause my escape. I dipped around for another turn, breaking sight-lines once more. Up ahead, I could see the glow from an upper-story window. Nearly there, I thought. Even though Velvetcall was lagging behind and could no longer see me, he still let loose another empowered command. ¡°STOP!¡± he commanded with his pervasive and insidious might. My foot caught just slightly, a second¡¯s worth of hesitation as I jumped through the mental gymnastics that allowed me surety that he had been speaking both of and to someone else. What I needed to do was stop hesitating, if anything. Maybe that was what he meant, I wondered. Just then, Guesswork crashed through a nearby cherry tree, bringing down several branches on her way towards the ground. She had landed within ten yards, far too close. ¡°I see them¨Cher? Her!¡± Guesswork called out as she pulled a device from her belt. The back of the device glowed and it felt easily within her hand, almost resembling the futuristic guns from a sci-fi series. It was smooth and well proportioned for her hand. She lifted it to aim along the top, too close to my direction for my taste. ¡°Drop now, or I¡¯m taking the shot!¡± She called out at the same time that her trigger-finger tensed. I stumbled and fell forward, throwing a step forward and barely catching myself from face planting. The instant I dipped downward the space above me and in a straight line in front of me flashed, before disappearing. ¡°Reloading!¡± Guesswork shouted. ¡°Next one won¡¯t be a warning!¡± ¡°You shot¡­ a warning?¡± Velvetcall¡¯s voice came from somewhere further back. ¡°Last chance,¡± Guesswork said, ignoring the boy¡¯s question. She slotted a fresh Charger into the rear of the device. As she said that, I reached the edge of the park. I immediately changed the angle of my trajectory, placing the line of cherry trees between myself and her. There came another flash. This time, I saw where it hit. A black pockmark now marred the granite brickface of one of the upscale duplexes. ¡°Gods take you! Stop moving!¡± Guesswork shouted and swore. I finished crossing the street and I reached the first building and I scurried up the wall, almost flying with my haste. Guesswork came running from the park, glancing about before spotting my form as I made it over the edge and onto the roof. ¡°They¡¯re taking the high-road!¡± She shouted as she took a running jump. She soared into the air, but not nearly high enough to reach the roof. Instead, she landed along a windowsill, cracking the window with the force of her landing, and then leaping off from there, causing the fragments of stone to break loose and fall. I lost sight as I passed the other ledge, choosing random roofs to leap to and beginning to climb Blossom Hill. Guesswork maintained pursuit, though I could no longer detect her partner, Velvetcall. ¡°Stop running!¡± Guesswork shouted. ¡°You¡¯re only making this worse for yourself. You¡¯re not even really in trouble! Just stop and talk!¡± As if, I thought. Several buildings were now between us, and I was sure to keep structures between her and I at all times. From so far as I could determine, she had no means to actually see me. And yet, she still managed to loosely follow me, remaining within shouting distance. Obviously she was tracking me. And obviously, sight was superfluous to her doing so. I needed a way to stop her from detecting me. I needed to determine what exactly she was detecting. I knew she was some nature of psychic, though far less impressive than Belobog. She might have been an empath. She mentioned ¡®feel¡¯ when she described her impressions of me. If that were the case, then it reasoned that she was following that same feeling now. I knew what I needed to change. I needed to feel differently. I needed to blend in with the residents of these homes, at least mentally speaking. Forcing myself to feel differently in the moment of flight ought to have been difficult. It really should have been. But, between my Mark updating, and improving again. And between the improvement to my Godsmark, it came almost naturally. First, I cleared my mind, focusing purely on the moment. Then, almost obtrusively, I found myself thinking arrogant and entitled thoughts. Of fine dishes that tasted subpar. Of a woman that was doing it wrong. Of a man that left much to be desired as a partner. As these thoughts came, I put another building between myself and Guesswork, and then another. I was not counting, as doing so would have been beneath me, but the number was growing. Soon, I was unable to hear her at all. Another half-hour, and I had satisfied myself that I had lost all pursuit, and that this was not an elaborate scheme to part me from my wealth. I returned shortly to Ma¡¯Ritz, where I ascended to my usual perch and resumed my duties as a night-guard. From so far as I could determine, I had escaped without consequence, except that I had failed to finish scouting the baron¡¯s estate. Though, in place, I had learned more of the Vigilants, and I likely could leverage that knowledge for something of value. With these thoughts, I ensured that nothing had gone amiss while I had been gone, and I went over my gains. To do so, I was forced to remove my bandages. They had scabbed over, and removing them left me quite sore. Absorption 2.4.10.? ¡°You¡¯re a new face,¡± Marianne said, her voice sounding a little too loudly for the early hour. I had requested her to wake me this morning so that I had time to prepare myself and leave on time. So it was not necessarily the early hour which was bothering me. What came as jarring was what she said, and the way she said it. However, I understood her tone as I heard a stranger respond from the bunk above me. ¡°Huh?¡± came an inelegant reply in a girl¡¯s voice. She sounded as though she were still half asleep, much the same as I had felt just before I had heard some strange girl had apparently fallen asleep in the very same room that I had been sleeping in. I had not even heard her enter the room, let alone climb to the top bunk. I had been at this strange girl¡¯s mercy. I encountered dread at my own exposed vulnerabilities, regardless of whether or not the girl had acted maliciously or not. Unaware of my spiraling emotions, the stranger began rambling. ¡°Oh, uhm yeah¡­ ¡®bout that. See, I came in last night and I was told to set-up here? Kinda like a halfway house for fancy night-workers, right?¡± As the girl attempted and failed to explain her presence, I had to agree with most of the sentiments she had expressed. For it was not unheard of for the staff to shelter intoxicated and helpless girls in the bunk-rooms, which were next room to the staff bunk-room that Marianne and I shared. Of course, there were empty beds in our room, especially as there were several bunk-beds and only Marianne and I regularly used the room. However, our room was for staff, which this strange and un-introduced girl certainly was not. ¡°Pardon,¡± I said, gathering my wits quickly. ¡°But perhaps a mistake was made? Who was it that provided this instruction?¡± I wondered if perhaps the girl had unknowingly followed poor instructions. ¡°You always wake up so hoity-toity, eh?¡± the girl responded, before realizing she had been asked a question. ¡°Oh! You wanted to know¨C¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I interrupted, quickly losing my patience with her blundering. ¡°I did.¡± ¡°Tiffany did,¡± the girl answered. ¡°Name¡¯s Fleur, by the by.¡± She thumped her chest and grinned, as though providing a basic introduction was some achievement. For her, perhaps it was. ¡°Splendid,¡± I responded dryly. Then, deciding that poor manners may lead towards superfluous hostilities, I then added with salvaged decorum, ¡°A pleasure to make your acquaintance¨C¡± ¡°-hot damn!¡± Fleur said, slapping her thigh. ¡°Breakin¡¯ out the big¡¯uns, huh?¡± Marianne scowled at this, and I was left in a state of confusion, though I pushed onward. ¡°You may call me Jackie,¡± I finished. ¡°All that, and that¡¯s your name?¡± Fleur¡¯s brow raised. ¡°I was expectin¡¯ something fancy to call you, at least four syllables, maybe five.¡± My state of confusion worsened by the minute. Fortunately, Marianne offered assistance. ¡°It¡¯s a nickname,¡± Marianne answered on my behalf, though with an angry chill to her tone. ¡°And excuse me, but we are absolutely not night-workers! I don¡¯t care what Tiff told you, but we aren¡¯t!¡± ¡°S¡¯alright,¡± Fleur said in a manner that sounded almost slurred. ¡°Chill girl.¡± With how informally she addressed us, I almost expected Fleur to finish her statement with a crude belch. I found the morning to be difficult. For, despite my intentions toward hospitality, or at the very least, civility, the very nature of the new girl grated. It was not her burlesque irreverence. Nor was it her forwardness. What I think bothered me was the way she inserted herself. Even in the baths, I found no solitude. Of course, Marianne followed, but Fleur entered as well, bathing alongside us and addressing our nude forms crassly. At first, we tried to ignore Fleur. But then she began commenting on assets and unmentionables. Incredibly offensive, even if the offense was given unintentionally. She went on to reassure us that despite my arm and Marianne¡¯s other-ness, that despite that, we were sure to find gentlemen callers. She continued providing these unwanted reassurances as we exited the bathing room. I could only cringe and refrain from retorting. Marianne, however, did not refrain. It seemed that the girl had had enough. ¡°Excuse you?!¡± Marianne snapped. ¡°Who even are you?! You just show up? Where in Odi¨Cin gods¡¯ loving¨Cname do you come off with the audacity to assume we even want to have callers?¡± ¡°What?¡± Fleur responded, head tilted and brow furrowed. ¡°That¡¯s a different swear. Haven¡¯t heard it before¨C¡± ¡°-don¡¯t go changing the subject!¡± Marianne nearly hissed. Fleur rolled her eyes. ¡°Whatever,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s a whore-house, ain¡¯t it?¡± Marianne¡¯s eyes narrowed and her cheeks flushed with a bluish tint and her eyes sparkled with either malice or sorrow. She lifted a finger to point at the larger girl¡¯s chin when I began pulling Marianne away. Marianne and I had a schedule to keep, afterall. However, I could not let such a crude misunderstanding remain unaddressed. Thus, in a more reasonable and tempered manner, I attempted to explain to the dull-minded lout. ¡°A portion of the business does earn revenues from the pleasure industry,¡± I said, all the while guiding Marianne away from the bathing chambers. Fleur fell in beside us. ¡°But that is not all of it, and it certainly is not an aspect that has ever drawn Marianne¡¯s, or mine for that matter, ambition. It would be easy to interpret the earlier statement in an offensive manner.¡± It took Fleur a moment to parse that, and during that time we had descended two flights of stairs and entered the service portion of the tavern floor. ¡°Eh, whatever, I guess¡­¡± Fleur shrugged. ¡°What now? Breakfast? I¡¯m famished.¡± ¡°What makes you think you¡¯ll be eating anything?¡± Marianne asked, once more picking a fight with the girl. ¡°It¡¯s part of the package, right? Tiff said it¡¯ll be three squares a day, plus pay.¡± ¡°For people that work here,¡± Marianne stated, almost through grit teeth. ¡°Right,¡± Fleur shot back, unbothered. We reached the kitchen, where we met both Anne and Cook. ¡°So what¡¯s to eat?¡± Marianne narrowed her eyes and looked away from the girl, expressing her interest in ending the conversation. However, a strange girl entering the kitchen was not so easily ignored. ¡°Who is this?¡± Cook asked, setting aside a sauce pan and clicking her fingers at Anne to take over the stirring. ¡°And for what reason is that one here?¡± Fleur scoffed. ¡°Figures,¡± she said, almost dismissively. ¡°Tiff warned me about it but still.¡± For once, the torrent of inane chatter ended, and for a reason that should not have been a surprise: casual specism. ¡°She introduced herself as Fleur,¡± I stepped in, avoiding any further offense, at least in my presence. I hoped to not be associated with Fleur in Cook¡¯s recollection. Considering that Fleur had entered with Marianne and myself, we were all tangentially connected at the moment. ¡°And I believe that she is a new hire, of sorts?¡± ¡°Yep,¡± Fleur said, livening back up. ¡°You¡¯re looking at the newest tavern wench this side of the divide.¡± She thrust her chest out as if this were an honor. And perhaps, it was, at least to her, given her background. ¡°Oh,¡± Marianne said. Cook gave an almost-snarl that could have been a frown. ¡°So¡­ breakfast?¡± Fleur said. In the end, Marianne and Fleur each received their porridge and took the table at the back, while I myself discreetly and quickly consumed a cold-cut by myself and out of sight. Abandoning Marianne to Fleur¡¯s verbal sewage likely raised Marianne¡¯s ire; however, I felt no need to make a spectacle of myself so soon, especially considering how narrow-minded Fleur appeared to be. As Marianne and I exited Ma¡¯Ritz, leaving Fleur behind, I expected Marianne to express that ire, or at the very least, complaints regarding the new girl. However, Marianne sounded subdued. ¡°I had wondered how they would cover the day shift with everything changing,¡± Marianne said. ¡°But I didn¡¯t think they would replace me with¡­ that.¡± I nodded in understanding. I, too, had wondered. I had also wondered how Marianne would continue to earn room and board while attending the Academy. This would have been a perfect opportunity to ask, were the question not itself uncouth. As Marianne and I made our way across Blossom Hill, we were intercepted by a flustered Esmerelda. Her hair was ruffled, her makeup was rushed, and her skirt was uncharacteristically soiled¨Conly lightly, but still, any sort of stains were highly unusual. In addition to this encounter, Esmerelda appeared slightly out of breath. Marianne notices none of these signs of distress, or if she did, she made no comment upon it. Instead, Marianne gave a slight squeal and lunged to wrap Esmerelda¡¯s midsection tight in a hug. ¡°You made it!¡± Marianne said. ¡°Of course!¡± Esmerelda answered, patting Marianne upon the top of her head and gathering herself, at least as much as possible, considering her current state. ¡°Your first day at the Academy! Excited?¡± ¡°Uhm, yes, very much so,¡± Marianne replied. ¡°And you, Jackie?¡± I nodded slowly and considered my response, as Esmerelda was footing much of the bill for Marianne, and some for myself, it would hardly do for me to offend her by downplaying her gift. But then again, expressing an exorbitant amount of gratitude may leave me appearing indebted, which while it was indeed true, did not mean the fact had entered our social dynamic, and I intended to keep it that way. ¡°Indeed,¡± I answered, beginning simply and neutrally, before adding, ¡°The opportunity to further my studies is welcomed.¡± This apparently was not the proper response according to Marianne, as she gave me side-eye and an expression that was perhaps a mixture of confusion and rebuke. However, before she could issue forth a light reprimand, Esmerelda responded with an amused snort. The corner of Esmerelda¡¯s lip curled upwards. ¡°With how formally you seem to naturally speak,¡± Esmerelda said. ¡°I think you¡¯ll fit right in when you sit down for whatever passes for etiquette class here.¡± Marianne shook her head but remained silent on my apparent miscalculation. I decided to take the proffered olive branch and pull myself from the hole I had willingly stepped in. ¡°One can only hope,¡± I answered wryly. We continued to talk as we climbed the steps up to the Academy, and we ended up coming to wait in a queue to enter. It appeared that anyone who had failed to arrive in a carriage was required to show some form of credentials. As it was our first day attending, I anticipated that we would be told where to go after proving our identities. Notably, the line was largely populated by teenaged students and was lacking adult guardians or chaperones. This left Esmerelda in an awkward position, as compared to these teenagers dressed in school appropriate wear, she towered over them and clearly stood out. ¡°I should wish you ladies luck and let you both get on with it,¡± Esmerelda said, stepping to the side as we continued onward. Already, I caught sight of several adults, assumed administrators, furrowing their brows at her, though none were as gauche as to speak of her directly. Meanwhile, Marianne remained oblivious. ¡°But why¡­¡± Marianne whined. ¡°You don¡¯t have to leave yet, do you?¡± ¡°It is likely as a favor to both her and ourselves,¡± I said softly. As Marianne opened her mouth to utter some inanities, Esmerelda gave a wan smile to both of us. ¡°It¡¯s like she said,¡± Esmerelda said. ¡°I needed to get going anyways.¡± She flipped her tone around promptly, suddenly sounding cheerful. ¡°And you¡¯ll tell me all about your day when you get back this afternoon, right, Marianne?¡± ¡°O-of course,¡± Marianne said, though she did sound a bit awkward as she said it. ¡°Then I¡¯ll be off! You ladies take care,¡± she said, giving Marianne a hug and throwing me a smile and a wink before departing, drawing plenty of additional and potentially scandalized looks in the process, though unwarranted those looks were. During this time, my cheeks heated from embarrassment. The children in line, though they may be gossiping amongst themselves or reading through small booklets, were sure to have noticed the scene. However, we were in luck, as the queue moved quickly, and very soon we were stepping through, passing an inspection, stating our names and paths, and then directed towards another queue inside the Academy to receive our identification placards. All through this, Marianne clung to my side. And while I may not have clung to her in return, I appreciated her presence in such an unfamiliar setting. The entire process felt entirely more exhausting than it ought to have. But soon, Marianne and I had our directions and were on our way to our first class. Apparently, the school kept almost an entire wing devoted solely to Grace, though it was the central wing, pressed between the more martial side and the side for estate management. All told, this meant that our walk down the polished stone floors was a short one. There was one surprise. As we were almost to where we had been told to go, we were spotted by a lurking Sir Kate Guardson, one who had been waiting, leaning against the side of the hallway. She pushed off from the wall and intercepted us, her eyes passing over Marianne and focusing upon myself. ¡°Hey,¡± she greeted, her voice a tad lower than normal. ¡°Glad to see you made it.¡± ¡°As are we,¡± I said, pulling Marianne into the conversation. ¡°Entering the Academy was a lengthier ordeal than I had anticipated.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Kate said, giving a slight shrug. ¡°But only the first time. Just show your badge or card or whatever it was they gave you when you come in and it¡¯ll be fine.¡± Uncharacteristically for me, I spoke without planning or thought. ¡°Odd,¡± I said, before realizing I had spoken and cutting myself off. ¡°Hm?¡± Kate asked, following my indiscretion. Up to this point, Marianne had remained silent, though she seemed eager enough to join when she said, ¡°You¡¯ll need to give us more than that, Jackie.¡± I had not meant to make the observation aloud, and I was forced to think through several possible responses to find the least offensive way to clarify. ¡°Only that you seemed uncertain as to the form of the credentials, Sir Guardson.¡± ¡°Uhhh, yeah¡­¡± Kate trailed off, staring at a spot above my shoulder. ¡°I kinda sorta don¡¯t have to.¡± ¡°Have to what?¡± Marianne asked, tilting her head in confusion. Kate winced, still avoiding eye-contact. ¡°Show credentials,¡± she said. Marianne nodded, as though that made sense. And perhaps, it did. Kate¡¯s mother was well-known and influential, and Kate was certainly difficult to mistake for anyone else. And if she arrived in a carriage and was let in through some alternate means, confirming her identity might very well be superfluous. Before the conversation could devolve into any further awkwardness, Kate cleared her throat. ¡°I still need to get across to the martial courts before I¡¯m late, but I thought I¡¯d check to make sure you made it through alright,¡± she said. I nodded slowly, unsure of her motivation. ¡°And I appreciate your efforts,¡± I said. ¡°Well¡­¡± she trailed off once more. A playful smile began to develop on Marianne¡¯s face. As Kate was struggling to either continue or leave, Marianne tentatively, and likely in good humor, proposed a possibility. ¡°You¡¯re hoping Jackie might show you some of that appreciation in another way, right Sir Kate?¡± Marianne asked. Kate coughed, a strange amalgamation of awkwardness, laughter, and concurrence. She did manage to get out, ¡°But, yeah¡­ basically.¡± Marianne had identified Kate¡¯s motive correctly then. However, even should I desire to commence some form of intimacy with Kate, with the teenagers, administrators, and possible professors about. I thought any public display would bring too much risk. ¡°Unfortunately,¡± I said, letting her down easily, ¡°this is hardly the location or time.¡± I settled on placing a hand upon her shoulder and providing a small smile. ¡°But perhaps later?¡± I asked, perhaps a bit teasingly. ¡°Uh, yeah. Of course. But I¡¯ll hold you to that!¡± Kate finished, turning to leave after giving an aborted hug and a wave. ¡°I am certain you shall,¡± I said with intentional humor as she departed. Once Kate had left, Marianne giggled and said, ¡°Think she¡¯ll be by later tonight?¡± I chose to avoid a response. Altogether, the delay was not more than several minutes, and soon Marianne and I arrived at our first class of the day. The classroom was not the largest, instead made of two rows of raised desk-seats, one row above and behind the other. Both rows formed a half circle oriented around a podium that remained empty. Additionally, there was an unusual amount of clear floor space between the podium and the raised seating, which I assumed had to have been by design. Seating was not assigned, leaving Marianne and I the option of sitting on the opposite side of the doorway, as far out of the way as we could manage. Other students trickled in as well, some with meek expressions, others haughty, and all wearing raiments of quality. The haughty ones were each surrounded by a gaggle of the meek, and they largely pressed in towards the most central seats, nearest the aisle. While Marianne and I watched them filter in, I wondered if any of these teenagers belonged to the Vigilants. I knew that the teenaged paramilitarized force would attend the Academy, but I could not be certain how that fact would affect my attendance. I could feel several of my Talents at play, both Evasion and Flexibility, similar as to when Guesswork had been tracking me. I found myself only slightly wondering about their identities while sitting there, awaiting the professor. I could not overly seek them out, as at least one of the Vigilants was psychic and would possibly be alerted by overly forward thoughts. But at the same time, it would not be out of place to casually wonder; likely, other students were doing the same as well. Of course, it was unlikely that the Vigilants would be enrolled in the Grace Path, or department, as I likened the program. That did not mean that there was no overlap in the classes, as those of other departments could attend desirous classes. However, my impression of the Grace Path was that it had been geared towards courtiers and perhaps high-classed servants¡­ perhaps also third or fourth sons and daughters. Soon, my speculation came to an end, as the professor arrived, stepping up to behind the podium and chiming a small bell. ¡°Attention,¡± he began. The class quieted down near immediately, which I found counter to my expectations. ¡°Students of mine may call me Master Plum. This is my first year teaching within these halls, yet I have much experience in teaching; arguably, of a higher quality than may have been expected. For you see, I originated from Kwin City, where I had the pleasure to personally instruct several of the lesser royal progeny on the manners of courtly bearing. I will make it no secret, I left our capital to avoid the risks that succession carries. I will curb speculation, I immigrated to this puerile border-town to take advantage of the likelihood of Southbridge becoming Marked¡­¡± He continued for some time, and I noticed several students growing bored, despite Master Plum¡¯s purported experience. ¡°For those sitting for my instruction, I will now begin an introduction to etiquette and courtly bearing.¡± What followed was an hour filled with tedium. Plum began the lecture on the social strata and the reasons that manners had developed and were critical, especially between peers. While the knowledge could be useful, it would not be so in an immediately practical way. Still, I did my best to pay attention, and I saw Marianne scrunching her nose in concentration. After Plum¡¯s lecture ended, we were given a reading assignment and then sent to our next class. Most of the students moved in the same direction, forming what would likely become a cohort of Grace initiates. Our next class was the application of sonorous music, where each student was required to select at least one instrument; drums and percussion instruments were prohibited. After that, came a class devoted to voice control, where we were to exercise our vocal cords, lungs, and mouth to employ the correct pitch, tone, and inflection for all possible situations. It occurred to me at some point that the Grace department was responsible for preparing infiltrators for polite society. But then that expectation was perhaps broken by a mandatory art class, where we began an introduction to oil paints. The day was stretching long, and I was grateful for an opportunity to break for refreshments, although only beverages such as tea were provided, and this served as another lesson in applied manners. Plum, of course, attended to provide oversight and corrections to our posture and bearing. The last half of the day was filled with Dance and Massage. I anticipated I would excel at the first, though when changing into our exercise-wear, I felt several eyes linger on my false-arm. Of course, there was judgment for my deviation. If only they knew the true cause; the symbiotic or parasitic organism had only been growing stronger over time, and I felt more sure of myself by the day as a result. If the judgemental stares came when preparing for Dance, it was doubly so when it came time to practice the lessons at easing muscle tension. The only one present who lacked any disdain in regards to the idea of pairing up with me was Marianne. Naturally, she and I were paired in that course. By the time the last class ended, I felt exhausted, though I also felt excitement at the potential benefits from the Academy. Much of the course load could benefit me, and there was a very strong likelihood of networking and gaining actionable intel. As Marianne and I returned to Ma¡¯Ritz, I allowed myself to revel alongside Marianne and share her exultations. Though she was required to begin her evening shift on the tavern floor, her mood was hardly hampered at all. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
Talents:
    • Athleticism I (2/9) (+1):
      • Climbing I (5/9) (+1)
        • Featherlight I (4/9)
        • Inversion (2/9)
      • Gymnastics (4/9)
    • Stealth I (8/9)
      • Trackless Tracks I (4/9) (+1)
        • Area Coverage (6/9) (+1)
      • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
    • Eschiver I (3/9) (+1)
      • Evasion I (2/9) (+1)
        • Impending Sense (4/9) (+1)
      • Lucky Break I (1/9) (+1)
  • Chance Encounter (1/9) (NEW)
  • Courtly Dancing: Treachery (2/9) (+1)
  • Flexibility (1/9) (NEW)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (7/9) (+1)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (4/9) (+1)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.4.11 Flexibility: 4/9 (+2) Chance Encounter: 2/9 (+1) Studies at the Academy progressed without any exceptional notes that week. The class I performed best at was Dance; also, the class was my worst. One flattering remark from the instructor, and suddenly I was an acceptable target for bullying and sabotage. However, this hardly hindered me, although it did bother Marianne on my account. Besides that one detriment, things progressed smoothly. Sir Kate Guardson refrained from dropping by Ma¡¯Ritz, likely she found herself busy between schoolwork and her martial duties. I counted this absence of hers as a benefit. To improve matters further, my working hours had been reduced. No longer was I required to keep watch past midnight. This meant I was now allowed a decent amount of rest to recover each day. Additionally, this progress was also shown with my Marks as well. Also on perhaps a worrying note, the tendrils within my false-arm had grown more numerous as well and in length. It now contained four tendrils coiled and hidden within the silvery gel-like flesh. This allowed my left hand to better mimic what it ought to have appeared as; I wondered just why the false-arm was growing stronger. The week flew by, and quickly we arrived at its conclusion, a two day rest period before classes started once more anew. The presence of the weekend in this world surprised me; it was not necessarily a social norm that I would have anticipated to be duplicated in parallel. Regardless of the suspicious coincidence, there were no actions I could take regarding my suspicions, thus I could only accept its presence and move on. Besides, the weekend offered me an opportunity to catch up on several items of priority. Items that had been weighing more heavily upon me as time went on. Every day that I went without making progress towards finding Emboru¡¯s sibling was another day I came closer to a nebulous and dire occurrence. Unfortunately, I had little idea on where to start, except for infiltrating Southbridge¡¯s information centers. Since I already had put plans into motion to do just that, there was little else I could do, other than committing myself to random motion and hoping for the best. If I could not strive towards the greatest of tasks, then the next item weighing upon me was the one assigned by Belobog. But, other than vague hints regarding whatever it was she wanted of me, I could do little else to prepare. Hence, I was today focusing on what was likely one of my least important obligations: finding Cook¡¯s old employer, the white Kaiva. This was why, before any other surprises could find me that morning, I had snuck out from Ma¡¯Ritz and I had followed the early morning traffic down from Blossom Hill, across the divide, and I had begun skulking through the slums. My target was near where the largest population of Kaiva seemed to reside, near where Cook¡¯s favored butchery stood. I was implementing a modified version of my previous strategy. The last time I had searched for Cook¡¯s old employer, I had attempted both to ask passerby directly, and when that had failed, as it turned out that the Kaiva were both incredibly inclusive and violent, I had tried following several random Kaiva from the rooftops. In hindsight, the approach had been chaotic, uncoordinated, and just poorly planned in general. In the time since my initial attempt, I had time to think about this problem, and the things I needed to do differently. First, I ensured I went unnoticed. I traveled the ridges and bowed walls of the tenement houses. So long as I avoided traveling on the ground, avoiding notice came easily. The buildings appeared so messy and lackadaisical that blending in with the skyline proved easy. Second, and this was where my strategy had most greatly improved, I began by watching several shops that sold perishables that I thought Kaiva of means might desire. Such as the butcher shop that I myself favored. I found a perch a block down from the butcher and I watched and waited. Several customers came and went, humans and Kaiva both. The first Kaiva I saw that exited from the shop carrying a sack filled with bulges of butcher paper fit my search criteria. They were wealthy enough to make purchases, they were Kaiva, and they required an ice-box which would most likely be in their residence. It would be a stretch to assume that one Kaiva lived near the next, and that one of those Kaiva might be the one I sought, but still, this seemed the best approach I had available, besides hiring an information broker. I trailed the Kaiva for several blocks, always lingering behind them, keeping to the rooftops, though several times I had to slide down the wall of a crooked building before climbing up the next. Eventually, the Kaiva ducked into an old brick building that was dwarfed by the surrounding tenements. The building was covered in graffiti and tags, marking it the territory for one of the local gangs, though they called themselves pit crews, not gangs. I could not be certain my target Kaiva resided within the brick building, but I knew at least one Kaiva lived there. I still found it unlikely that the refined white Kaiva would dwell in such a place, but I supposed it was a possibility. I would remember its location and perhaps come back later. I returned to my original position above the butcher and waited for another. I allowed several Kaiva to come and go, and I waited until I saw one wearing dyed clothing of a slightly better cut and weave than the norm. I trailed this wealthier Kaiva for several blocks. Strangely enough, they headed the same direction as the first that I had tailed. Minutes later, I watched the Kaiva enter the same brick building. At this time, I revisited my original assumptions. Several different levels of fiscal means resided therein. Perhaps there were laborers and servants and differing castes thereof. I considered returning to watch the butcher, to try trailing another, to perhaps see if the third would lead me somewhere different. But at this point, too much time had been wasted. My time was not unlimited, and I was certain that soon certain obligations would catch up with me. Thus, despite the adage regarding impatient thieves and their fates, I decided to err on the side of haste. I climbed down to the roof of the brick building and I scouted around the perimeter of the upper levels until I found an untended and unlocked window down on the second floor. I slipped inside and waited, unfocusing my senses and letting sensory wash over me. I detected no changes, nor any immediate approaching activity. It appeared my entry had gone unnoticed. Without much in the way of expectation, I began exploring the building. I had entered in through a window to an empty apartment, and I let myself into the main hall. The walkway should have been busier. At the very least, there should have been lighting available. People should have been making noise as they went about their lives in their homes. But no, the place was dark and quiet. I was growing suspicious as to the nature of the building. I passed door after door, all silent and most with dusty handles. It was as I neared the stairwell that I heard them. As I approached, I realized that I had been smelling them for a while. The door leading to their apartment had been left ajar. This was notable, incredibly so, and led me to grow ever more cautious. For it was atypical behavior to leave the front door open, especially in what I considered to be a ¡®bad neighborhood.¡¯ The air within the apartment carried a haze, along with the slightest hints of bitterness. I recognized the scent before I reached the opened door. The locals had several names for the drug, but essentially it was a naturally occurring opioid that could be cultivated with minimal resources. It was not a banned substance, though it was hardly conducive towards a long and happy life. It was addictive and carried substantial health risks, ranging from hair-loss to blindness, depending on the strain. Were it not for my Alchemical Immunity, I would have chosen to retreat from the hallway immediately. I could hardly afford a muddled mind. However, knowing my Talent offered sufficient protection from anything but an egregious amount of poison, I slid to the gap in the doorway and peaked in. Two humans were playing a game of cards while they occasionally glanced down from their window towards the street below. Their card table had been shoved against the far wall, giving them easy lines of sight to the outside. As I watched, one of them swore and tossed his hand of cards, while the other chuckled. The loser grumbled and arose and started making his way towards the exit where I stood. Were his eyes focused upon the door, I would have retreated. As it was, his attention was not upon the door, instead upon a small brazier that carried smoldering embers. The brazier was between him and I, and it was the brazier which held his focus. He grabbed a small satchel laying on the ground nearby, and pulled a pinch of flaked fungal material before tossing it amongst the embers. He drew several breaths to blow upon the embers until the flaked material began smoldering as well, joining the embers in a not-quite open flame. ¡°There,¡± the man grumbled, turning back towards his friend. ¡°Next turn is yours.¡± The other man spat to the side, ¡°Only if I lose, yeah?¡± ¡°Oh, you will,¡± the first man grunted. ¡°You will¡­¡± They then dealt out another hand of cards, all the while infrequently glancing out the window, down at the street below. It became obvious that the two were some form of lookout, that the entire building was likely some form of bastion kept by the Opals, the pit-crew who had predominantly tagged the exterior of the building. Considering the fact that the pit-crews of the city were composed nearly entirely of humans, the fact that several Kaiva had returned to this building was curious. Enough so that I decided to investigate the remainder of the building. At the stairwell, I saw signs of traffic coming to the second floor, and less frequent traffic to the higher floors. Considering that there were at least five floors above where I stood, the amount of wear on the stairs should have been greater than what I observed. I had not seen evidence of alternative modes of travel, and I doubted the Opals relied upon scaling the exterior of the building, though they may have used the neighboring buildings to access the rooftop, as I had. Except, I had failed to see any obvious means of egress on the rooftop either. A quandary. The Opals would not have placed lookouts without a reason. The building carried strategic significance of some sort. The possibility remained that the lookouts were placed for another reason, perhaps a side-hustle in the nearby vicinity, or perhaps they were watching for hostile activity of some sort, perhaps an encroaching gang, or the Knights, although I had seen no signs of law enforcement in the slums thus far. Besides these possibilities, I had verified that people were entering the building. Something greater was happening here, and it was not on the second floor, nor on the floors above me. Of course, this was merely conjecture on my part. To be certain, I would need to scout the entirety of the building. But my instincts were telling me that whatever was going on was happening on the ground floor. It occurred to me that I did have a relatively quick means of verification. This method was not one that I favored; I disliked the comparisons that could be drawn when I used such a method. However, a proper thief knew when to employ the proper tool for a job, and scruples such as embarrassment should have no effect upon my assessment. Thus, as I crouched in the stairwell, I focused on my nose, and what my olfactory sense told me. There was the opioid, there was the grime and filth that came from impoverished civilizations, the common stink of stale urine, and worse, of course. But, as I crouched there, I failed to detect any hint of the spices which Kaiva favored, which Kaiva would have purchased alongside their perishables, which I had confirmed that at least one of the Kaiva carried with them when they entered the building. This was enough of a confirmation for me to ignore the entirety of the building above me, and instead descend to the ground floor below. As the stairwell opened up, I was expecting another floor similar to the one above, another hallway with numerous apartment entrances. What I found instead was more akin to a warehouse, where the obvious remnants of walls had been removed to open up the space. As I scanned the remnants of plaster and the gaps left from the removal of such walls, I saw instead posts had been erected, obviously after the fact, as they were made of wood and several had been wedged in askew. A chill ran down my spine as I observed the shoddy construction. The entire building was a deathtrap. The Opals had replaced load-bearing walls with shoddy beams of wood. I shook myself off my fears. The building stood well enough for the time being, and I would not be lingering here for long. But as I scanned over the impromptu storage space, I failed to find an obvious population of Kaiva, or anyone for that matter. This was obviously an impossibility. The people had to have gone somewhere. Teleportation was not a thing. At least I assumed it was not. If it was, it would have been beyond the Opals¡¯ means. A portion of me desired to immediately begin rifling through the barrels and crates to search for valuables. I refrained from this temptation. For all I knew, this floor was a trap, and the goons on the floor above were sacrificial pawns. Rather than take any risks, I crawled up the wall to a corner between a post and the wall, where I remained hidden in the shadows, well out of sightlines of anyone watching the floor. From this vantage, I waited, confident that this mystery would soon be solved through observation. Waiting, unfortunately, was by its inherent definition a time-sink. While I remained plastered to the wall eight feet off the ground and tucked out of sight, I could only think of all the other things I could be doing instead. I could be practicing my skills. I could be reviewing study materials or preparing for another week at the Academy. I could be scouting potential targets to either enrich myself or better prepare myself for Belobog¡¯s task. I could be generating random brownian motion in the hopes of satisfying Emboru. Ordinarily, waiting was not overly onerous. I had been instructed in patience by my mother¡­ quite vigorously, one might say. Were I not in a new body, I would have carried physical scars from those lessons, not solely mental ones. It came as a relief when the door to the exterior opened. In walked two people; they each wore the colored armband that marked them as members of the Opals. The door shut behind them, plunging the warehouse floor once more into a gloomy darkness that must have been challenging for them to navigate. They seemed to pay the lack of lighting no mind, though, which showed a remarkable level of familiarity with the crowded floor¡¯s current setup. The moved down one aisleway between crates before taking a corner and progressing off to the side, near where a particularly large pile of stacked crates resided. ¡°Bridges fall and metal rusts,¡± one of the two spoke aloud, the baritone voice louder than necessary and almost startling me from my perch. The two had been silent up until this point. From somewhere within the stack of crates, a different voice replied, only partially muffled by the wood. ¡°Barons lick the king¡¯s dust,¡± this other voice from a hidden source replied. ¡°But the Opals stand forever,¡± the first voice said, finishing what seemed to be a pass phrase. ¡°Nah, that ain¡¯t how it ends,¡± the second entrant said, up until this point he had remained silent. ¡°It sounds better though,¡± the first said. ¡°That it do,¡± the hidden voice agreed. ¡°But it¡¯s not right,¡± the second said. ¡°We were told to say it right.¡± He pointed at a gap within the stacked crates, where the shadow seemed deeper than it ought to have been. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be lettin¡¯ us in unless we say it right.¡± ¡°He¡¯s¡­ also right,¡± the hidden voice agreed once more. ¡°Find,¡± the first spat. ¡°But the Opals stand strong and tall. There, happy? Sounds like shit.¡± ¡°Good ¡®nough,¡± the hidden voice said. A clicking sound came as a latch was pulled, followed by a ratcheting of gears. ¡°Course, it¡¯s all a bit silly, ain¡¯t it? Not like I don¡¯t know ya both.¡± ¡°Rules is rules,¡± the second said, though both of them seemed to be nodding in agreement as they waited and watched a barrel. The barrel twitched and then began to tilt to the side until it rested parallel against the ground. ¡°Whelp, I¡¯ll head in first,¡± the second finished, turning around and bending down, before disappearing from sight behind the crates. ¡°Yep, see ya in a few, Greg,¡± the hidden voice said. I crawled along the side of the wall until I could get a better angle on where the base of the barrel had been. A circular opening had been revealed in the floor, and I made it just in time to see the first of the men also descend, climbing down what I assumed was a ladder. Once the two had disappeared, the ratcheting sound returned, and the mechanism groaned before returning the barrel to its original upright position, concealing the hidden entrance. If this building had been curious and suspicious before, it was suddenly an object of fascination. While the two that had descended had been human, I could only assume that this was also where the Kaiva had gone. A hidden entrance into either a basement, or more likely, a subterranean network of tunnels; the entirety of Southbridge had been built atop a series of mines, and I had already seen the elaborate sewer system that Southbridge relied upon; the assumption that I was looking at an entrance to a secret subterranean base was not ridiculous. Much effort had been spent in securing this entrance. This implied that whatever was kept hidden down there was worth it, at least to the Opals. If I could find out more, then I would have something to barter with the next time Belobog stopped by. I might also come closer to understanding the Kaiva population here and how they fit into things, which would bring me closer to resolving Cook¡¯s task. And finally, if there was a subterranean complex, then there was a decent chance that I could learn something new regarding Emboru¡¯s sibling. While the last possibility may have been a stretch, it was not nonexistent. I felt justified in my decision to investigate further, even if it would cost me the remainder of my day to do so. I crept towards the pile of crates where the third voice had come from. Initially, I could not see him, though I knew he must have been in that pile in someway. I climbed the nearest wall to peer over the top of the pile of stacked crates, perhaps wondering if they had been setup in a perimeter, similar to a child¡¯s fort. However, that was not the case. The guard was completely encompassed by the stacked crates. Next, I stalked around the perimeter, searching for any out of place seams or signs of wear and traffic. After circling the entire pile, although I did have to pick my way carefully over several haphazard rows of things, after circling the pile, I found nothing. The closest I found to something out of the norm was near the barrel. It was there that I heard the man¡¯s breathing. Crawling along the ground, keeping to a corner of one of the rows, I approached the pile until I was pressed against it. There I remained, listening. His breathing was regular, not overly cautious or exhibiting signs of obvious distraction. Cautiously, I raised my head at an angle until I was just able to peer through the crack that the noise was coming from. The interior was dark. No light sources whatsoever. If not for the gloomy light filtering in through the gap, I would not have been able to see anything at all, and even then, all I could discern was the vaguest outline of the man, sitting on a stool, watching out the very same crack that I was peering through. When I saw this I froze. But his breathing remained unchanged. He had not seen me, even though I was directly before him, well inside his range of vision. Moving slowly, I lowered my head once more, and that was when the entrance to the improvised warehouse opened, light spilled into the place, and another person entered. Were it not for my trained instincts, I would have jumped in surprise and likely given the game away. However, I continued in my controlled motions and made my way off to the side, where I could blend in with the stacked boxes which formed one of the rows. There, I curled into a ball and reduced my outline as much as possible, confident that I would remain unseen, so long as I remained quiet and unmoving. The new entrant shut the door behind them, allowing the gloom to return to the room. They began making their way towards the secret entrance. Something clattered. The man grunted in pain, then cursed. ¡°Godslovin¡¯ bastards moved shit again, didn¡¯t they?¡± he called out. ¡°Nah¡­¡± the guard said, breaking his silence. ¡°Well, maybe? Dunno who was on shift before you.¡± ¡°Ugh,¡± the man said, sounding disgusted. He kicked at whatever had tripped him. ¡°Don¡¯t matter. I¡¯ll be done later. If you see those clowns start changin¡¯ my shit again, tell ¡®m to wait, yeah?¡± ¡°Sure thing, Lar.¡± ¡°Alright¡­ well, later then,¡± the man said, heading towards the stairwell and then ascending. He likely was one of the sources of infrequent traffic to the higher levels of the building. It was possible that he lived there and worked below. It would make sense, though I would be particularly concerned about the shoddily placed load-bearing beams, were I him. Once he was gone, I took a moment to consider my options. I wanted to see what was down there, to find whatever valuables were stored there, and perhaps gain additional intelligence regarding the underbelly of the city. I desired this, strongly. However, there came the matter of risk, along with the manner of infiltration. But as I considered this problem, and all the things that could go wrong, I began to perform an informal measurement of the risks and rewards. For, while I was curious as to what was hidden below, it may end up being a trap. Not that one had been laid for me, specifically, but it could still be one. And even if not a deliberate trap, it may be a labyrinth filled with rats and worse without more than a single way out. Yet¡­ I was curious, incredibly so. And I doubted there was only a single means of egress, given the nature of the city¡¯s foundation. And from what I could smell from the warehouse, the entrance hardly led to a sewer, at least not one that had been used in some time. The remainder of the risks could be abated with planning. All I needed was to infiltrate without raising the alarm. Considering that, and my suspicion that the reward may be significant, depending on what was below. Thus, I quickly went over my options. While deploying stealth, I felt around the base of the barrel. The mechanism to open and close it was unavailable, tucked inside the wood, if above the surface at all. As I had no intention of tunneling through the wood, this meant I needed the guard to open the hatch. The easiest way to convince him would be to impersonate one of the Opals and issue the correct code. I had heard the code already, and I could likely dig up a spare arm-band easily enough. However, I worried about the unknown: Did the lookout know everybody that used this entrance personally? If so, my impersonation would be difficult. There was also the risk that there existed multiple codes and counter challenges. To determine if this was the case, I would need to remain vigilant and listen for multiple people to come. And even then, were I to spend the day listening in on the comingings and going, even then, I might fail to catch a critical piece or meaning of the challenge and response. The easiest and likely the safest manner of infiltration would be to simply disable the lookout. While typically I would refrain from base violence, my time on this world had inured me somewhat. Though, I was still loathe to spill blood, despite my false-arm¡¯s eagerness. But even were I to disable the lookout, I would likely struggle to do so before they issued an alarm. I was not even sure I could find a way inside the lookout¡¯s hidey-hole, so whatever method I employed would need to be at range, through a narrow slit, and fast enough to keep the guard from sounding out a warning. This seemed like a difficult task, though my false-arm did twinge in anticipation, its tendrils coiling just slightly, tensing up similar to a spring. To my false-arm¡¯s disappointment, I decided against such a loud and permanent solution. There was no telling how soon such an infiltration would be discovered, but probably as soon as the next entrant arrived and found the lookout a bloody smear and the entrance torn open. It was at this point that inspiration struck. I left the warehouse and climbed the stairs back to the second floor, where the two potential lookouts played a game of cards while surrounding themselves in opioid fumes. While the fumes were hardly thick enough to disable a person, especially at the low-level dose that these two men employed, I thought that the substance had potential. While the two were distracted playing a game, I gently pushed the door further open, and keeping the brazier between myself and them, and moving ever so slowly while in a crouch, I crawled forward and grabbed the satchel of desiccated and crumbled fungal matter, and I then retreated, once more shutting the door until it was just as ajar as I left it. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. I expected that the two men would soon go to deploy an additional dose, but when they found the satchel missing, I would not be surprised if they blamed each other. It was highly unlikely that they would assume a thief had visited first thing, especially as their building was ¡®secure,¡¯ and they had been sitting there the entire time. I could have rolled my eyes as I imagined how they would react, but I wanted to spend no further time dwelling upon such incompetent criminals. No, I had better things to do, I decided. Back down in the warehouse, once again I crept up to the base of the stacked crates, just below where the lookout¡¯s window lay. There, with great care, I pulled a handful of the opioids and ensured they were powdered into a loose dust. I formed a tube with my hand, and raising it over the edge of the window, I blew the powder inside, timing my exhale with the lookout¡¯s, to better mask the noise. During this time, I felt fortunate that the opioid was not active topically. For, even with my Alchemical Immunity, I was unsure if I would have been protected, otherwise. After I finished blowing the second handful of dust, I heard the lookout sneeze. The man muttered to himself, largely nonsense, but it sounded as though he said something like, ¡°Wha¨Cwhat¡¯s that¨Csmell¨Cachoo!¡± From that point, I waited several minutes, listening to the man as he shuffled about, his breathing grew shallower, almost uneven. I doubted he would be knocked out by the dose. At least not so soon. I hoped he would remain somewhat cognizant, at least. I risked another peak, and noticed a dim light emanating from a Charger, a coin with an active silver of crystal at its core. The man was holding it before his face, having apparently retrieved it from his purse. He was examining the coin, marveling at it. The light allowed me to see his dilated eyes, along with the faint start of drool coming from the corner of his mouth. Perhaps, I thought, I had used too strong of a dose. This meant that I needed to hurry, unless I risked the man losing all functionality. Just as I was about to implement my plan, the man began uttering nonsense. I paused, waiting, to see if there was another with him, or if he was speaking to anyone else. But no, nothing. Just the ramblings of a poor fool that might have overdosed without consent or acknowledgement. I doubted it was an overdose, though. I had not heard of any unintentional deaths through the use of this opioid. But then again, this was not a drug of choice for anyone that could afford better. I quickly made my way to the front entry way, and I stood up. I opened the door, then shut it loudly, almost slamming it. I pretended to have just entered, similar to the first pair that I had seen. I strode confidently towards the barrel, choosing the exact same path as the first. As I reached the barrel, I waited a second for the lookout to proffer any initial challenge. A few seconds passed, and I realized that it would be safer for me to take the initiative, in case there were potentially alternative codes that could be given. Thinking back on the phrase, I repeated it in the same gruff tone that seemed so common in the slums. ¡°Bridges fall and metal rusts,¡± I said, beginning the start of the ridiculous lyric. I waited several more seconds. The man grumbled something, but I could not hear it. I worried if he had gone to sound an alarm, but then I heard him slur unintelligibly. As I could not determine exactly what he said, I decided to take an imperious approach. ¡°I said,¡± I said, along with a false clearing of the throat, ¡°Bridges fall, metal rusts.¡± ¡°Uhhh, yeah¡­ I¡¯mma¡­ I¡¯m drawin¡­ cans we do the osher¡­ osh¡­ oth¡­ other! Other one?¡± I scoffed in disgust; this I did not have to feign. ¡°Pathetic,¡± I snapped. ¡°Are you drunk?¡± I demanded. ¡°Sleeping on the job? Or worse. Pathetic, truly, absolutely, despicable,¡± I finished with as much judgment as I could, putting the man on the backfoot as much as possible. ¡°Ssay¨C?¡± the man started, but was unable to finish as I cut him off. ¡°No. No, no, no!¡± I snapped my fingers. ¡°It is at this point, that you respond, Barons lick the king¡¯s dust, to which I would reply something of the sort, The Opals stand tall and strong. That is how this should have gone, were you not such a worm. Now,¡± I paused to take a breath and loom over his little window, allowing the full force of my ire to leak through my posture, ¡°Open, the, hatch.¡± Despite my performance, the fool offered a weak protest. ¡°But I didn¡¯t cha¨C¡± I cut him off once more. ¡°Do you want me to inform the boss that you have inebriated yourself?¡± I said, scathingly. ¡°No? Then open it.¡± Again, the man mumbled, though the intelligibility of what he said had not greatly improved. ¡°Now!¡± I snapped, before shooting my hand through his window and seizing him by his grimy collar. I gave him a quick shake, before releasing him. I immediately desired for an alcohol swipe to cleanse my hand with. I considered that I might have overplayed my part. Before I could doubt myself further, the man mumbled an assent, and began fumbling about inside his hole. Finally, the gears began to turn. The barrel pivoted and tilted until parallel with the floor, and a hole and ladder were revealed, with a faint glow coming from the bottom. It was deeper than I had anticipated, at least ten yards down, if not more. As I could not hear any sounds of conversation or activity echoing up, I assumed the subterranean lair was extensive. Large enough, at least, that I would not need to fear becoming trapped and hunted. ¡°You have bought my silence,¡± I told the lookout, using an imperious voice once more, arrogance seeping my words. ¡°For now.¡± I took a second¡¯s pause to stare within the window, ensuring our eyes met, assuming he was able to even see more than a blur at this point. I doubted he would remember much, except the domineering threat and intimidation. ¡°Do not bother me again,¡± I finished. ¡°Ssure¡­¡± the man slurred, faintly. At least, that was what I assumed he said. I cared not for the particulars. My objective had been met. I began my descent down the ladder, a giddy eagerness roiling within my stomach. I was infiltrating a villain¡¯s lair. I could not deny that a portion of my immature mind, a remnant from childhood, was squealing in delight. A small smile may have crossed my face, more of a smirk, than anything. I dropped the rest of the way, landing on the ground as silently as a feather. There were no sentries posted below. The tunnel was wide enough to stretch out, and tall enough I could crawl along the ceiling to escape notice. In the distance either way, I could see several branching paths. I could spend far too much time exploring down here. Far, far too much time. A part of me wanted to. But, I needed to prioritize. My objective, I decided, was to locate wherever it was that the Kaiva had gone. To do so, I once more relied upon my olfactory scent, and I followed the briefest taste of spice. The detriment of this mode of tracking my quarry, was that I also had to smell every other scent emanating from these tunnels. And while they might not have been an active sewer, that did not prevent the Opals from taking liberties inside their own base. I spat in disgust and muscled through my displeasure. When I was finished, I decided, I would be taking a bath. If they let me inside Ma¡¯Ritz because I overly reeked from this venture, that is. As I went, I passed branching paths, several of which joined my current hallway at irregular elevations and angles. Not all the openings led to an obvious path, sometimes they appeared to be redundant piping, perhaps large enough for an adult to crawl through. Others had pieces of tarp hung across, and of these several had been smeared with colorful substances; I would be hesitant to describe this substance as paint. No sounds emanate from these chambers, although several had more recently been in use, judging by disturbed dust and the scent of unwashed flesh. A portion of me was tempted to rifle through these chambers, some of them likely contained items of worth. However, it behooved me to locate the marks first. I promised myself to indulge my greed and curiosity later, if the chance presented itself. In this way I continued onward, following the subtle trail of spices and meat and the sourness of fermentation gone bad. And it was in this way that I began to hear voices, accompanied with the sounds reminiscent of dining: clinking, smacking, and the way speech was muddled when the speaker spoke with a mouth full of food. Uncouth, to say the least, though the sounds confirmed that my invasion of their lair had gone unnoticed, along with my approach. Still, a careless thief was soon wrung. I kept flat to the wall as I came near, until the dim lighting of infrequent torches shone through the tunnel and revealed the inhabitants within the next chamber. Several Kaiva lounged on cushions on a long wooden table which had been pressed against one of the walls. Betwixt them rested several wide and shallow bowls, some of which held sauce drizzled meat, possibly gizzards. One Kaiva was pacing anxiously, tail flicking and ears standing straight. He kept his pacing to the space between his lounging brethren and another table which was occupied by several grime covered humans. These humans, notably, wore speckled blue and white arm-bands, marking them as members of the Opals, another gang from the slums, though they preferred to term themselves as pit crews. The humans were feasting at their own table, with at least one pitcher of ale having spilled. Several of these crew-members were flushed and slurring their words, obviously drunk. Notably, at least two of their number were sober. It was these, and the pacing Kaiva, that I remained the most cautious of as I crept to the corner to eavesdrop; I chose a spot hidden by flickering shadows that had at least three means of retreat, to avoid being caught or trapped between an incoming group and those whom I was now eavesdropping upon. One of the Kaiva, this one female, called out loudly to her pacing companion in their native tongue. ¡°Tell the ugly one that these ones smell that!¡± she said, causing the other lounging Kaiva to chortle, with one of them waving a hand as though to dispel the stench. ¡°This was not appreciated!¡± ¡°While telling the ugly one this,¡± one of the other loungers added, ¡°tell also that bathing would help too.¡± ¡°His stench would be improved if the bathing was done in anything but a middens heap,¡± she tacked on, as though helpfully. ¡°Are those bowls full of sour grains?¡± the pacing Kaiva responded, irritation evident. ¡°This one finds your merriment unfounded.¡± It was at this point that one of the intoxicated male humans craned his neck so that he faced the Kaiva, this one shouted, ¡°Speak common, godslicking cats!¡± The Kaiva who paced, he clicked his tongue in irritation. He addressed the man. ¡°Then our quarry has been found?¡± the Kaiva asked. ¡°Otherwise, this one has no reasonable thing to speak of in common,¡± he finished with the Kaivan word for common, which left his whiskered lips sounding more similar to a curse than anything else. The natural vehemence left me suspicious of the etymology of the word. ¡°Your princess?¡± One of the more sober men jumped in with a sneer. ¡°Of course not! You would know if we had.¡± The Kaiva had ceased pacing, instead making a show of inspecting his claws. He flicked an imaginary piece of grime off while he paused, apparently giving thought to his words. When they came, they were surprisingly civil, given the hostile language that the humans had used. I supposed this civility may have been enforced by the fact that the Kaiva were guests here, or that the humans outnumbered the Kaiva two to one. The fact that the Kaiva could speak civilly in common in the first place seemed strange; he bore no collar and gave no impression of ever having been enslaved and trained. I grew curious regarding their circumstances, though not curious enough to seek answers immediately, though I did remain there eavesdropping. ¡°Then,¡± the Kaiva said, ¡°Our deal is unfulfilled and these ones will speak the language of our pleasure.¡± The way he rolled his r¡¯s almost sounded like a purr, though I thought that may have been a deliberate affixation. ¡°Keep your peace, human.¡± ¡°Ugh,¡± the sober human groaned, spitting on the floor to the side. ¡°Uppity cats.¡± The Kaiva¡¯s whiskers pinched forward and their hind-claws dragged across the stone. One of the lounging Kaiva hissed, though they spoke nothing beyond their obvious displeasure. The man, sensing that his guests may have been nearing the point where civility was forgotten and hostilities commenced, held both his hands up with his palms forward, knocking over a tankard at the same time, to the cursing of the man that the drink spilled upon. ¡°Hey, you hired us,¡± the most sober of the men said. ¡°Don¡¯t go makin¡¯ threats.¡± He took a moment to swipe most of the spill to the side, sending a wave of it onto the sputtering and intoxicated man. ¡°Would hate it if some Knights found you, yeah?¡± He finished, giving the Kaiva a mean look. ¡°Threats?¡± the Kaiva hissed. ¡°Your solution to our inquiry, to our offense at your demeaning language, is to make threats?!¡± So, the Opals were hosting the group of Kaiva. They were not a single unified group, but at least two separate. What purpose had drawn them together, I wondered. Naturally, I was also curious about the nature of this princess; I doubted they spoke of Princess Marissa, though she was the only princess I was aware of visiting Southbridge. ¡°Woah, there¡­ I wouldn¡¯t call ¡®em threats, not exactly,¡± the man said, holding up his hands though still remaining firm. ¡°But we are business associates, and some courtesy goes a long ways, yeah? Just speak a language me an¡¯ the boys can speak too, is all I¡¯m asking.¡± The Kaiva clicked his tongue again before smoothing his snarl and finally saying, ¡°very well.¡± From there, the conversation once more divided and descended into puerile worthlessness. I remained eavesdropping, however, following all sets of conversation the best I could. At several points, conversation once more merged upon more important topics, although these moments were fleeting. One of the intoxicated humans slurred out a complaint before belching. ¡°Don¡¯t understand how we haven¡¯t found a distinctive cat yet, but we¡¯ve been looking, and there¡¯ve been sightings. Won¡¯t be long now till we narrow her down and close in¡­¡± At the same time, one of the Kaiva asked loudly, interjecting a question in addition to the princess. ¡°And the other?¡± the pacing Kaiva asked insistently. ¡°The spirit core?¡± The least intoxicated human made an unflattering guttural noise. ¡°It¡¯s still in Kwin City,¡± he said. ¡°Not even sure it¡¯ll come this way. Not sure it would be worth the heat if it did. More trouble than it¡¯s worth. Even succeedin¡¯ld be a death warrant.¡± The Kaiva clicked his tongue and tapped the padding of his foot on the stone in anxious thought. ¡°This one understands,¡± the Kaiva said. ¡°Though it would be most welcome to gain, and a bonus would be provided.¡± ¡°I bet,¡± the man scoffed. ¡°But that sort¡¯ll get armies and inquisition comin¡¯ after our balls. Would need plenty of pay and a place to spend it, if ya catch my drift¡­¡± The Kaiva performed an odd wiggle that I had difficulty parsing. ¡°This could be provided,¡± the Kaiva said. ¡°For such a gift, the bearers would live as kings among our humans.¡± The man crooked his jaw and worked through the Kaiva¡¯s words, before finally grunting. ¡°You¡¯ve got humans down there?¡± he asked. ¡°Naturally. Our empire is far more advanced than given credit for¡­ It is only natural that we have¡­ plenty.¡± The way the Kaiva finished left a chill crawling down my spine, which in turn reminded me that my time was not unlimited, and that eventually that the lookout may realize he had been drugged. And there were still other things I wished to do while visiting the Opal¡¯s den. I decided to turn back and visit some of the side passages, particularly the better decorated chambers. This loosely might have been termed scouting, though less flatteringly it would be termed burglary. During this diversion, I found several store rooms and one with a lockbox. I picked my way through to quickly find the most valuable objects that were also the easiest to carry. Once more, I remembered my ratio of value to volume. Of course, I could not always accurately judge this, but some objects were easier than others, such as an arcbow I found, which was what the humans called their artificed crossbows. In the safe, I found several sealed letters, which likely contained either blackmail material or valuable intel. An ornamental knife that contained several gemstones was also chosen, though I remained dubious on if the gemstones were anything more than glass baubles. And finally, I looted every Charger I came across, though most of them had already been spent. Finally, I followed another well-traveled path, and this time I discovered another exit, this one into an even slummier building, the backroom of a gambling tavern. As I was running short on time, and as the Opals would eventually discover they had been burglarized at some point, I decided to leave promptly and boldly, exiting through the gambling tavern as though I belonged there. While I pushed my way out, I only had to ignore four lecherous calls and one concerned bouncer. But by the time I breezed past the entryway, I was already gone, sprinting down alleys and finally climbing to the rooftops, where I continued my journey above and beyond most of the slums. When I reached the divide, I crossed over and merged into the rest of the foot traffic, making the rest of my way in the crowd¡¯s obscurity. Once again, I found myself working my night-shift. I almost felt it laughable, that Ma found it necessary for her to pay for protection. Other than the first night, I had not seen any hostile actions towards the establishment. Though, perhaps that was due to my presence, as inconsistent as it was. A part of me considered once more prowling towards Baron¡¯s Estate, however, I felt I had had enough ventures for one day. Thus, I remained on the rooftops near Ma¡¯Ritz. I thought it best to avoid traveling too far, as I had a sneaking suspicion I would be visited. In preparation for this, I had left a sack filled with my earlier excursions stowed away in a remote corner. As I whiled away my time, I practiced ribbon fighting, dancing across the uneven rooftops and balustrades in flowing leaps and pirouettes. I doubted the efficacy of doing so in combat, but it provided a somewhat productive diversion. And then, an hour before I would have retired, I received the expected visitor; my foresight had paid off. As I was expecting her, when I saw a shadow cross the street, coming from the chasm-side of Blossom Hill, I respooled my ribbon, hung it from my belt, quickly grabbed my sack of ill-gotten gains, and I climbed down from the rooftops to intercept her. By the time I was moving to meet her, she was already at the back of Ma¡¯Ritz, looking up towards my usual perch on that rooftop. Interesting, I thought. I sprung from perhaps five yards up and landed in a soft crouch behind Belobog. Since I came from a different rooftop than the one she had been expecting me, my sudden appearance startled her. She jumped and twirled with a hand to her chest and another hand to a hidden holster. She quickly realized who I was, near immediately, and she relaxed, letting her hands fall loose to her sides. She resumed a confident posture, if a bit disheveled. ¡°Oh,¡± she said, a false disinterest lacing her voice. ¡°Didn¡¯t recognize you at first. New Talent?¡± I shrugged, wondering if her surprised reaction came as a result of a synergy between Flexibility and Stealth. Since Belobog could somehow detect minds as part of her psychic toolkit. It should have been more difficult for me to arrive without her prior notice. It was not as though I had been attempting to jump-scare the girl. In fact, I would have rather kept such an ability hidden from my enforced allies. None of these thoughts were shared. Rather than elaborating, I gave her a noncommittal humm as an answer. Near unbidden, a brief memory of exultation replayed through my mind. The sensation of air wind rushing by, kissing my cheeks. I had leapt from tenuous rails to fragile singles, spinning my ribbon about me all the while. The practice of grace and dexterity had left my night far richer. ¡°Have you always practiced the urumi?¡± Belobog asked, drawing me back from the phantom sensations, though an undercurrent of the memory remained, almost caressing my thoughts as I replied. Flexibility: 5/9 (+1) ¡°Hm?¡± I answered, before realizing her eyes were resting upon my ribbon¡¯s hilt. ¡°Urumi? I fear I am unfamiliar with the term.¡± ¡°Serious?¡± Belobog asked, somewhat incredulous. ¡°What else you calling it?¡± ¡°A battle-ribbon, I believe it was termed when I first picked the weapon up.¡± ¡°Nu-huh. That¡¯s dumb. Why call it that?¡± A frown slipped across her face, revealing an irritation that ran deeper than I would have otherwise expected. I decided to change the topic from a potential mire. ¡°I doubt you visited to discuss etymology,¡± I said, shrugging to belay casualness. ¡°Though your arrival was timed fortunately.¡± I held the sack full from my earlier gains for her to inspect. Naturally, this caught her interest, though not completely. ¡°Yeah, whatever,¡± she grumbled. ¡°Why should I care about what some imperials steal and ruin a cultural artifact of esteem. What do I care? Swamp-sucking¨C¡± Rather than endure this embarrassing tantrum, I shook the sack once more. The clacking of Chargers, the shuffling of papers, and the weight of the artificed weaponry stole her attention. ¡°Right. Whatcha got?¡± she asked mercurially; I assumed this had to have been a false front of hers, but I refrained from comment. Against careful judgment, I tossed the sack the short distance between us, potentially losing possession as a bartering point. However, providing a modicum of trust would likely improve relations and hence rewards, and all without giving up anything that I had not actually had in the first place. Afterall, so long as I attempted to integrate into polite society, I would be at the mercy of Belobog¡¯s organization. Mothersworn extortionists, I thought without irony. When she finished peaking through the sack of spent Chargers and other, less fluid, goods, she glanced back towards me with a smirk. ¡°How much will this be worth?¡± I asked. A portion of me wanted to put these goods towards buying my way out from their organization¡¯s influence, however, the rest of me corrected that minority of my thoughts of that naivety. That was not how such organizations operated. ¡°I¡¯ll need to see what Joe says, but probably more than some loose change.¡± An interesting phrase that she used, but I took the hint. ¡°Should I plan a visit? I find my schedule rather tight lately.¡± She scoffed. ¡°Can¡¯t be too tight if you have time to take side gigs,¡± she said, waving the sack once more. ¡°Where¡¯d you even find this?¡± ¡°I am hesitant to use such dramatic language,¡± I said, attempting to overcome my embarrassment. ¡°But earlier today I visited an underground hideout near the Kaiva Quarter of the slums.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not an unofficial quarter,¡± she said, almost a playful banter. ¡°But I think I know the spot¡­ but you were careful, yeah?¡± She sounded slightly more concerned than previously; I could not be sure of the genuineness of her display. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna find any angry crews gunning for me over this, right?¡± That self-interest sounded far more believable. ¡°Unlikely, unless you advertise those letters, whatever they contain.¡± ¡°Should be good then¡­¡± she tapped her chin, pursing her lips in faux-thought. ¡°You¡¯re not taking jobs for anyone else though, right? Can¡¯t afford mixed loyalties in this business, you know?¡± I exhaled and deflated slightly. This angle of hers ought to have been anticipated. Of course she would be nervous if I was taking on jobs independently. She could hardly afford to have her asset burned before she had the chance to do so herself. I decided that this was one of those rare instances in which honesty would serve me best. ¡°It started as a personal favor to track someone down,¡± I said. ¡°That somehow ended with you infiltrating a smuggler¡¯s den?¡± she asked, sounding somewhat disbelieving. ¡°I might need more details than that.¡± Unbidden, I found myself thinking of the white Kaiva I had seen in the meat-shop, and hearing Cook¡¯s favor to find the mysterious previous employer. If the replaying memories were due to Belobog or my own Marks, I could not be certain. ¡°Yet, I find myself a believer. A white one, huh?¡± Belobog mused. ¡°I might be able to help with that. Let me ask around a bit. Anything to get ahead of the crews is good for business anyways.¡± ¡°You would do this for me?¡± I asked, unsure if her motives were as she said. I could only assume that she had additional reasons. ¡°I assumed this would be a trifle for my coworker, to repay a simple favor. It has grown, somewhat, beyond that.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ no,¡± Belobog shook her head. ¡°There¡¯s something more going on here, and it would probably be best for me to take over.¡± I narrowed my eyes. ¡°Nothing ¡®gainst you, of course!¡± she said quickly. ¡°You¡¯ve got the chops, for sure. It¡¯s just that this type of stuff fits my skill-set. Yours is best left to other tasks¡­¡± She tapped the side of her temple, and I noticed that her hair band had come askew at some point. It would be difficult to notice from anywhere but up close and directly before her, considering she wore a hood, but the cloth band was crooked, and one of the mounds that was normally covered was partially visible. The mound reflected the dim lamplight just slightly, appearing both glossy and crystalline. How had I not noticed this before? Was Belobog a deviant? Or was she something other than human¡­ As those thoughts flitted across my surface thoughts, Belobog frowned and corrected the hairband, once more hiding the mounds and whatever it was they implied. ¡°Hey, focus,¡± she said, snapping her fingers. A dull pressure left my gaze following her fingers. ¡°Where were we¡­ right,¡± she said, nodding as though everything made complete sense. ¡°I¡¯ll take over finding out more about this Kaiva of yours,¡± she said, not so much as offering as stating a forgone conclusion, ¡°and you can start making plans for that job we¡¯ve been planning.¡± I frowned. This job that they had been planning, that they had somewhat extorted me into committing myself to, was not a job that I would normally have taken on. The risk was too high, and the reward could not have been commensurate. ¡°Hey, none of these second thoughts,¡± Belobog said, likely reading my mind. ¡°You owe us, remember?¡± My frown only grew. ¡°Ugh, of course. No loyalty among thieves, yeah?¡± she muttered, as though that would compel me to do her bidding. ¡°Would it matter if I told you it pays really well?¡± ¡°I find my current circumstances satisfactory,¡± I said. ¡°I doubt any sum of Chargers would encourage me to take upon myself such risk.¡± She smirked, ¡°Really? Not gonna go for some Cee then?¡± I shook my head. ¡°Well, that¡¯s good,¡± she said, her smirk only growing. ¡°Cuz the job doesn¡¯t pay in anything like that.¡± I rolled my eyes. ¡°If the job fails to pay, then no amount of leverage could entice me to¨C¡± She held up a hand to forestall my protest. ¡°Easy, I didn¡¯t say that it doesn¡¯t pay. I said it doesn¡¯t pay in Cee.¡± ¡°Then what will it pay?¡± I asked. My interest had been piqued. And, I justified to myself, it was not as though I truly had a choice in the matter, not if I wished to continue my current circumstances. ¡°Well¡­ so fun bit a trivia here,¡± she began. ¡°...The Baron is holding a contest soon, to find the most martial of the mercenaries, or just anyone that can scrap. It will be bloody and violent and a good show altogether¡­¡± Disgust nearly overwhelmed me. ¡°I will not fight for you,¡± I said with not an undue amount of vehemence. ¡°I am certainly no savage as to join in any uncouth blood-sport. The barbary of¨C¡± She groaned as I may have gone on overlong. ¡°Fine, whatever. You don¡¯t like bloodsports. I get that. It¡¯s a good thing we aren¡¯t asking you to do anything like that. That¡¯s just context for the job, y¡¯know? Call it flavoring, or whatev. Intel, yeah?¡± I groaned, rubbing my forehead. I found dealing with Belobog difficult, and this impression only grew worse with exposure to her. ¡°The reason I¡¯m telling you all this is that the Baron will be offering a hefty prize to encourage all of those that will be fighting¡­¡± That¡­ that did make sense. If people of ability would be submitting themselves to such danger, then surely the prize must be desirable. Though, I had enough sense to realize that there existed plenty of fools that were willing to enter unfavorable battles for the scant possibility of payment, even if that payment were merely Chargers. ¡°If this prize is indeed that, such a prize, then why would your organization ever permit their employed thief to remain in possession once the job is complete?¡± ¡°Worried we¡¯ll backstab you, huh?¡± she asked. My silence on the matter should have been answer enough. ¡°Well, so I¡¯m gonna go out on a limb and explain some things. First, you¡¯re crazy good as a burglar or a cat-thief, a second story-man, so to say. It¡¯d be dumb for us to throw a long-term and quality tool away for a quick buck, so to say. Laverna¡¯s all about investing in promising individuals, yeah?¡± I may have scoffed. As though I would believe any of that. Of course, I knew my own worth. But the level of investment that Belobog was speaking of went above and beyond what criminals would typically keep. Normally, they sought immediate profits and pleasure. ¡°Cuz they¡¯re idiots, J.¡± I narrowed my eyes once more. ¡°I fail to recall granting liberties with my name.¡± ¡°Yeah, whatever. So, like I was saying, we¡¯d be dumb to throw you out like that. Besides, our current patron¡¯s seeking to undermine the baron here, and isn¡¯t really after the prize itself. It gives us some latitude to work with, yeah?¡± I nodded slowly, my mouth suddenly running dry. I understood what she was saying, furthermore, I understood how she was manipulating the conversation and I could anticipate the response she expected from me. Nevermind the fact that I had no way to verify any of what she was saying. If what she was claiming was accurate, then her organization was likely even more troublesome than I had initially thought. If their motive was to actively destabilize a region, then they were political catspaws themselves. Depending on their methods, they might even be loosely termed a terror-cell, though that likely would have been a bit of a stretch. Regardless, I was loath to go any further for them. However, another thought occurred to me: If Belobog could find a certain Kaiva, then could she also help track down Emboru¡¯s sibling? And if Belobog herself was a catspaw, then perhaps she would become desperate for allies, which would improve my own bargaining leverage. All of these thoughts came crashing down once Belobog finished smirking and explained the prize that was on the line, that the baron was hoarding away in his manor under lock and key. What she said next drew my attention to a honed edge. ¡°How do you feel about a grimoire?¡± She finished with a maddening smirk, almost vulpine. Blessings: Rank (1/9)
  • Body: 65
  • Mind: 75
  • Spirit: 49
False Arm (Replacing Blessings) 4 Tendrils, approximately 1.5 yards in length, unspooled. Talents:
  • Athleticism I (2/9):
    • Climbing I (5/9)
      • Featherlight I (4/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
    • Gymnastics (4/9)
  • Stealth I (8/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (4/9)
      • Area Coverage (6/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver I (3/9)
    • Evasion I (2/9)
      • Impending Sense (4/9)
    • Lucky Break I (1/9)
      • Chance Encounter (2/9) (+1)
  • Courtly Dancing: Treachery (2/9)
    • Flexibility (5/9) (+3)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (8/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (4/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.4.X Her temples throbbed. Her temples always throbbed, but especially after dealing with her most recent recruit. Just something about the girl made it difficult for Belobog to get a solid read. Nevermind the other oddities there¡­ because there were several, and she was doing her best to avoid thinking about one of them. In addition to all the noise, Jackie must have had some sort of Talent to defend with. Probably a good thing, actually probably a great thing, since the girl was insistent enough to play schoolhouse with the oligarch brats. Or were they noble brats? Belobog mused, distracting herself from the encroaching migraine. No, Belobog decided, wealthy elites ruled the city, more so than any derivative of a pseudo-sacred bloodright. Oligarchs it is. Even if all that noise was missing, and Jackie offered a clean read of thought and intent, even then, she would likely leave Belobog with a headache. Maybe not a full on migraine, but still. Who just runs off to rob an established gang without thought? Obviously it turned out alright, but what if? Not only was it risky for her, but maybe, also, possibly, risky for Belobog as well. Naturally, Belobog passed on some wisdom to Jackie, but therein came the difficulties in reading her. Belobog was uncertain if the advice would stick. She was unsure if Jackie had even realized that advice had been given. And if Jackie had realized that, Belobog was unsure if Jackie had realized the sterner warnings that the advice had veiled. Already, as she was making her way back down the hill towards Laverna¡¯s Cup, she was second-guessing herself. She wondered if she should have just spoken plainly? Typically, that never worked. But at least she would know that Jackie heard it. It was as she considered this possibility, that she caught a flash of intent. Immediately, her temples flared. She pushed through the pain, barely wincing, as her mind¡¯s eye tracked the sudden intent. Danger? She wondered. But there should be none. The Vigilants had no reason to harass her, and no other players were in the area at the moment. She pushed past the discomfort and honed in on the sense of pressure radiating from¡­ oh, it was moving away. But that combination of intentional, yet impatient. Feminine, yet¡­ naive? One of the stranger frequencies that Belobog had felt. Yet¡­ no, that¡­ Belobog recognized the imprint. She sighed heavily, letting her tired shoulders sag. Of course it would be tonight of all nights, she thought. But, she was lacking solid alternatives so she made the detour, following after the faint psychic trail that this familiar imprint had left. It would take a bit, but other than dropping Jackie¡¯s haul off with Joe, and logging the unscheduled but successful job Jackie had taken on, Belobog had little to look forward to back at Laverna¡¯s Cup. Nevermind the inconvenience at the detour. Belobog would be foolish to leave her patron¡¯s agent waiting. And, nevermind that she had never actually met her so-called patron directly. Actually, that was probably for the best, Belobog decided. Especially if the patron was the paranoid sort to tie up loose ends. Especially since Belobog was something of a prodigy when it came to digging secrets. She continued to follow the trail of naivety and expectation until she reached a small park, almost an alcove wedged between two duplexes. The park was lit by a single lantern by the road, which was insufficient to pierce the rose hedges that encompassed three sides of the park and the bench. If it were not for her migraine, Belobog might have enjoyed the twilight floral ambience. But as it was, the strong scent left her wincing. She rubbed her temples again, then readjusted her hairband to ensure her horns were covered. They needed to be grinded down again. But the thought of doing just that made her feel like puking. Belobog passed underneath a hedged archway and found the only stone bench within the park. She dropped herself into it, gracelessly, and lounged with an arm on the backrest and her face pointing upwards. The dark and gray sky soothed her, ameliorating her headache¡­ somewhat, at least. Their presence grew more strongly. The agent approached. Were it not for the migraine, Belobog might have heard the rustle of footsteps upon the green. However, Belobog had enough insights into her own thoughts to know she was merely making excuses for herself. Afterall, her physical senses were not nearly as trained as her psychic; and why would they be? She self-justified. Not that she needed to justify anything, not even Guesswork could claim to be better, and Guesswork had the imperial stamp all over her¡­ Belobog, belatedly, realized she had allowed herself to drift¨Ca dangerous failing in her line of work. The bench shifted minutely as the agent sat beside her, all prim and proper. ¡°Sloppy,¡± the agent chided. While they wore a felt cloth mask and a shawl to hide her identity, it was clear from her bearing and mannerisms and the way she perched on the edge of her seat with her knees pressed together and her back arched¡­ and, well, just everything combined, anyone could tell that the agent was a high-brow female, likely raised for her current position. From what Belobog could gather off stray surface thoughts, the agent may have been a personal assistant. Which, considering most would be loath to send useful, expensive, assets into a potentially dangerous situation for little gain, Belobog thought the patron might have been making a statement. What that statement was, Belobog was unsure. Not that it mattered much at the moment. Belobog could always figure it out later, when she felt more hale. Meanwhile, the agent continued giving Belobog side eye, judgment written across her face. ¡°Your horns are visible,¡± she added. ¡°Fix them.¡± Belobog winced as she once more felt at her temples. Sure enough, her hair band had gotten knocked askew. She wondered how long it had been like that. Fortunately the streets were empty so no passerby saw them. That could have been bad, depending on if somebody recognized what they were, what they meant. ¡°Grind them back down tonight. This is intolerable as is,¡± the agent continued. ¡°They are far too visible for discretion.¡± Belobog sighed once more, already more or less agreeing with her, but unable to come straight out and say it, for reasons. ¡°Glad to see you care about the little stuff,¡± Belobog muttered, fixing the cloth once more. If her parents could see her now, they would be mortified. Ha. That would almost make it worth it. The agent clicked her tongue, clearly irritated by the glib response. ¡°This is not a light matter,¡± she scolded. ¡°Your patron has not invested so heavily into this operation for you to get caught, for him to lose, solely because you could not be bothered to maintain yourself!¡± ¡°Alright, alright, I get it,¡± Belobog said. ¡°I¡¯ll have it fixed before I go out again. Was this the reason you decided to meet?¡± ¡°Do I need a reason to request a report?¡± ¡°I guess?¡± Belobog answered honestly. ¡°It would be kind of a waste of time, otherwise¡­¡± ¡°Fine,¡± the woman hissed. ¡°There have been several oddities occurring nearly at once, and I would have the reason for them.¡± ¡°Well, don¡¯t leave the psychic in suspense,¡± Belobog said. ¡°What sort of oddities are you thinking you saw?¡± The agent grit her teeth, and Belobog considered that a win. ¡°It may be benign,¡± the agent started. ¡°But as I examined the submitted reports, along with my plants elsewhere¨C¡± Belobog had long suspected that her patron had spies all about the city, besides Belobog and crew. This was good to have confirmation. Also, justification for riling up the agent in the first place. Belobog would have patted herself on her back, but she was going through the motions of paying attention to whatever the agent was saying. ¡°-it struck me as a potential issue.¡± ¡°Well, let¡¯s get it out of the way then,¡± Belobog said. ¡°My head¡¯s killing me, and I¡¯m still not done with tonight.¡± The agent huffed in disapproval at the casual remark, but otherwise continued. ¡°Firstly, tell me this, for what reason are you out at this time of night, with your horns plainly visible to those familiar with such tells.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t a gal go for a stroll?¡± Belobog asked. ¡°No,¡± the agent said bluntly, before expounding. ¡°Not when such a gal is such as you, and not when the Vigilants¨C¡± she all but hissed the word ¡°-are suddenly overly active, in part due to those aforementioned oddities.¡± ¡°Please,¡± Belobog scoffed. ¡°Those kiddies? It¡¯s past their bedtime.¡± The agent huffed, possibly amused. Belobog would look, but the last time Belobog had done that she had been struck with an insufferable and catchy jingle. It was almost a memotic weapon. One that Belobog suspected the agent had trained in the use, to thwart any nosy psychics that might just happen to take a look. It would take effort, but for a person with secrets to keep, in a city with at least two people that could extract those secrets with but a thought, the effort was likely considered a worthwhile investment. ¡°That may be, but they have been more active recently, and you have not answered my question. Now is not a time for your word games.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± Belobog said. ¡°I was visiting a new recruit.¡± ¡°Have you submitted a dossier?¡± What? ¡°No¡­ not yet,¡± Belobog said, suddenly running out of clever things to say. Improv was not her strongest skill. ¡°I wasn¡¯t planning on it either. Do I need to? What would I even put in one? Seems like a bad idea, all-around.¡± The agent sighed in disappointment. Under her breath, Belobog thought she heard the agent complain something about ¡°slothful thieves.¡± But then the agent shook her head and refocused upon Belobog. ¡°I expect a write up on this new recruit, including capabilities and liabilities. Submit it tomorrow with your fence, he¡¯ll know what to do.¡± ¡°And the contents?¡± Belobog asked. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be easier to just tell you about it now?¡± ¡°That would be folly.¡± ¡°Ugh. That¡­ how does that make sense?¡± Belobog spoke as she thought, processing these new ridiculous desires while dealing with an unholy headache. She was not operating at her best, but she was trying. ¡°And writing this stuff down where it could be intercepted. Yeah? Yeah.¡± The agent covered her face with her hand in a theatrical display of exasperation, as though Belobog were the ridiculous one. ¡°Not if it¡¯s secured appropriately, then properly redacted or destroyed, no.¡± At the end of the day, Belobog was tired, and she would rather be anywhere else than there. And also, the agent was the one paying the bills. So¡­ yeah. ¡°...alright,¡± Belobog said grudgingly. ¡°Still though, this seems like a lot of unnecessary work, but yeah. I¡¯ll do that. For you.¡± ¡°Is the bare minimum too much effort for you?¡± Wisely, Belobog refrained from answering. ¡°Is it?¡± the agent asked in an insufferable tone. ¡°I said alright!¡± Belobog snapped, then instantly regretted it as her own voice thundered through her nasal passages and directly into her brain. She ended with a piteous groan. ¡°Very well. On to the next oddity. Your fence recently moved several goods that likely came from a robbery on the Hill.¡± Belobog winced, realizing where this was going. ¡°I specifically directed you to avoid alerting the authorities until after our campaign had begun. Now, the Hill is abuzz with peacekeepers and Princess Marissa¡¯s toys.¡± ¡°Yeah.. uhm¡­ how to say this. It wasn¡¯t us?¡± ¡°And your fence just happened to receive artificed goods matching the bill of stolen artificed items?¡± ¡°No, so you know that recruit? Well, they took initiative before we really recruited them.¡± ¡°Why recruit them then? Would it not be our best interest for the thief to be caught? This would likely lessen security measures.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t know that,¡± Belobog said. ¡°Would that not make sense? I anticipate that maintaining a state of constant vigil is tiresome for those employed by both Princess Marissa and the Baron Ore.¡± ¡°Maybe, maybe not. We don¡¯t know. What we do know, is that we secured a new recruit that¡¯s likely an A-Lister.¡± ¡°I do not quite follow.¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± Belobog said. ¡°Well, picture anyone of the Vigilants. Those are all A-Listers. The cream of the crop in terms of ability and potential.¡± ¡°An Imperial Sigil?¡± the agent asked in a worried voice. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so.¡± ¡°Regardless of the source, significant resources would have been spent then in raising this recruit. Did you not consider this?¡± The agent asked as though Belobog had not considered this very angle. ¡°It may be a trap.¡± Belobog scoffed and tapped the side of her head. ¡°Psychic.¡± ¡°That is not a guarantee,¡± the agent rebutted. ¡°Maybe not a hundred percent, no¡­ But I observed for a while before making the move to recruit her.¡± ¡°Then I anticipate your report. But while on this, was this recruit rewarded for their indiscretion with a snakestone?¡± ¡°The Blackjack?¡± Belobog asked, taking a moment to match the term snakestone to the stone with an affinity for treachery. ¡°Indeed. It has been removed from the books.¡± Just how much paperwork was Joe doing? Belobog wondered. ¡°Maybe. We definitely catch more flies with honey, and we want the biggest and best fly for this upcoming job. If you know what I mean.¡± ¡°And you will spend this new recruit on such a job?¡± ¡°Well, yeah? It fits their skill set.¡± ¡°What of the remainder of the team?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll be supporting, for sure. But the primary infiltration would be an old hat for ¡®em.¡± ¡°Very well,¡± the agent said, rising to leave. ¡°We expect great things. Ensure to submit the dossier. And file your horns.¡± ¡°...yeah¡­¡± Belobog hesitated for several seconds, watching as the agent began to leave, before venturing enough to ask, ¡°Any word about my brother?¡± The agent paused midstep. Their shoulders twitched a fraction, almost sagging. ¡°We have sent agents to follow up on a rumor of his passing.¡± For a second, Belobog¡¯s hopes rose. ¡°But, the rumors are a month stale at least, and have traveled through several towns and outposts. I advise against raising your immediate hopes.¡± ¡°But still¡­ this is a step in the right direction, yeah?¡± Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. ¡°Indeed,¡± the agent said. ¡°I wish you a pleasant night.¡± ¡°Joe,¡± Belobog called out as she came through Laverna¡¯s back door. ¡°Oh Joe~¡± she called out again, this time singing with a levity that absolutely failed to communicate her mood. But these sorts of discussions were always best done with a facade in place. He either was ignoring her¡­ or busy. Knowing Joe, Belobog suspected it was the first. Which was irksome, as their little clubhouse was quite large. To put it in scale, Laverna¡¯s Cup was only the middle third of the place. Normally, that would be where she could find Joe, putting on the face of their front. But the bar would be closed by now, and it was hardly like he lived down there. ¡°Joe?¡± she called out again. A little louder. She grimaced as the volume of her own voice reverberated through her skull. There came no response. Irritating. Vexing, perhaps. Definitely regretful, and not at all copacetic. She regretted that she would have to do this, but she did it nonetheless. She loosened up on her mental control, and felt the variations in pressure of the world around her. It was not the full psychic sweep, more of an externalized empathy sense, where the emotions a person radiated were more akin to wobbles than sound or vision. It was hardly coherent without practice. Even with practice, the passive emotion sense was hardly exact. And so, she relaxed her senses, letting the world¡¯s noise wash over her. The city thrummed with activity, but it was a distant background, a constant presence, similar to how gravity felt the same, no matter where one stood. Only the sources near her stood out. And from those, she felt more depth than usual, focused in one place. She bit her lip, beginning to pick through the nested signals. One of the wave-sources felt faint. That could have been Joe, but it also could have been a particularly strong source in the distance. She walked down the hallway, towards where she felt at least one definite presence, even though those presences were too heavy to be Joe. She already knew, or suspected she knew, who they were. Even if Joe was missing, those two would probably have an idea where he had run off to. But as she moved, still focusing on the faint signal, she triangulated it to about where the other sources were. So everyone was together then, she decided, continuing on her course, heading up the stairs to the loft above Laverna¡¯s Cup. Even while navigating through the dark hallways, she never stopped listening to the three. The frequencies were shifting quickly, a chaotic symphony that not even the maddest-hatter would invent. She wished she could liken the discord to a masterpiece, she wished that she could find enjoyment in it, even if she could track patterns and averages and intuit what people were feeling and thinking, all with just her least passive sense. But, no¡­ it sounded awful. She hated it. Since she already knew who she would likely come upon, and roughly where they were, she began walling off the passive sense once more, focusing more on the world around her. She still felt their general pressure, but somewhat muted. Thankfully, none of them were currently feeling anything strong. Otherwise, it would have been more difficult to block them off, once she had opened herself up. Eventually, she came to the common living quarters in the loft, meant for a larger crew than they currently had. As she came down the hallway, she slowed, approaching the closed door to the shared space. She heard their voices, and she decided to listen in with her mundane senses, just for a bit, just for the nostalgia, and just in case they were discussing anything juicy that she could hang over their heads. First, she heard the gruff and deep baritone of Bee, one of the albino twins. Belobog might have wrinkled her nose a bit. She and Bee had difficulties in finding common ground: they came from opposite backgrounds that were just about as polarized as possible. She knew this, he knew this, and they tried to work around it¡­ but to say they enjoyed each other''s presence would be a lie. ¡°-saying, nobody knows. No rep. None¨C¡± Bee said. An unusual name for such a figure, but Belobog happened to know his full name. It was a bad name. Belobog would go by Bee too, if she were him. Or, better yet, she would change her name entirely. Shake off the shackles. Leave them shattered and forgotten. But not Bee. He kept his to prove his strength. The lug was an idiot. ¡°Ain¡¯t that a good thing?¡± A contralto voice called out, his sister, similarly named Ay. At least his sister was the practical sort, even if she kept with the same dumb name, for solidarity with her lug of a sibling. ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± Joe responded, unaffected by the conversation. His faint pressure remained constantly light. Belobog might have considered him some sort of psycho, if it was not just his general apathy. Sure, he put on a good show. But she knew what was under the mask. Nothing. Almost a vacuum of an existence, inured to life. ¡°We are instructed to remain incognito. The less Baron Ore hears of us, the better.¡± ¡°-get that,¡± Bee grunted. ¡°Just. It burns. People should know us. Our names. Strength. Else¨C¡± ¡°You are no longer trapped in an arena in Kwyntral,¡± Joe said plainly, likely making a tactical decision to distract Bee with memories of trauma. It would be a cold maneuver, if done intentionally. A silence dragged for several seconds. Belobog could feel the flickering pressure emanating from the siblings, a stream eroding a canyon wall, attempting to create new routes but ultimately rebuffed by stone and falling back to a frothing rhythm. Perhaps not all of the symphony sucked. Eventually, something firmed, smoothed, ice forming over turbulent motion. ¡°Whatever,¡± Ay scoffed. ¡°The crews on the other side use rep. If people started sayin¡¯ the Garnets were weak, how long do you think that¡¯d stand? My bro might be dim about some stuff, but he¡¯s not completely wrong.¡± Bee¡¯s emotions spiked slightly at the insult, but not nearly enough to incite a verbal response from him. Still noticeable, somewhat comparable to a sudden wave in a silent marsh. ¡°Please,¡± Joe said, a scandalous tone played through his voice playfully, though completely false. ¡°This and that are not the same. They live in a very competitive environment with limited resources¡­¡± ¡°You sayin¡¯ we don¡¯t?¡± Ay asked, though her heart was hardly in the argument, and it seemed she largely agreed with Joe, even if she had yet to concede. Bee seemed to appreciate his sister¡¯s solidarity. Meanwhile, Joe hardly moved at all. It was always disconcerting, hearing him speak with passion while hearing his actual lack. Belobog, knowing full well that Ay could continue arguing for the joy of it, having listened to Ay do just that over pointless things that made zero sense, Belobog decided to intervene before her prattle could worsen her headache. She pushed the door open and put a confident and snapped a carefree facade on as she entered the common area, grinning and waving to Ay. Ay snorted, nodding her head, which was all the more exaggerated with her snout. Bee snorted as well, though his lacked all good humor. ¡°Finished eavesdropping, are we?¡± Joe asked. If Belobog had never met him before, she might have been worried. Might. It was hard to take someone seriously when they had all the emotional weight of a specter. But the twins were there, and she had an image to maintain. So she leaned into it and smirked. ¡°Who me?¡± Belobog asked, making a show of glancing around her. ¡°Oh? Are you claiming you didn¡¯t?¡± Joe asked. ¡°No, of course not. I¡¯m claiming I never stopped eavesdropping.¡± Belobog tapped the side of her head, through the hood which she had yet to remove. ¡°Psychic, yeah? Always listening.¡± A rumble came from Bee at the comment, but nothing further. He knew that all of them brought something unique to the team, and the thing she brought meant there was no privacy of the mind. Unlock Bee, Ay snickered. ¡°What¡¯m I thinking then?¡± she asked. Belobog wanted to wince, but she kept a smug smirk. She had been overusing her active psychic Blessings, doing so again would make it worse. However, Belobog knew how to respond, jest for jest. ¡°I¡¯ve made the mistake of looking once,¡± Belobog said, miming a shudder. ¡°No matter how I wash and scrub, I still feel dirty.¡± Ay laughed, Bee frowned, and Joe continued aping at a smile. ¡°Well, all fun aside,¡± Joe said. ¡°You had a late night. Any reason for it?¡± ¡°Why?¡± Belobog asked. ¡°Did I keep you up?¡± ¡°Yep,¡± Ay answered on Joe¡¯s behalf. ¡°Set up to ambush you and everything. Even asked about ya.¡± ¡°I did not,¡± Joe denied. ¡°Did so,¡± Ay shot back. Bee closed his cow-eyes and furrowed his brows. He traced his nose ring with a thick finger, a twitch he used when he wanted to be anywhere else. The boy was hardly what one would call a socialite. ¡°Well, so what?¡± Joe said, likely far too bored to continue the immature argument. ¡°Is it wrong to worry about a dear friend? Especially when we¡¯re supposed to be keeping a low profile?¡± Ay opened her mouth to shoot back another light response, but her brother clamped a heavy hand down on her shoulder, shaking his head. Belobog took that opportunity to respond. ¡°Uh, yeah,¡± Belobog said. ¡°Well, you know our newest hire?¡± ¡°Prospective,¡± Joe added, but nodding all the same. Belobog had originally set the sack of Jackie¡¯s loot down upon entering, but now she scooted it towards him with her foot. ¡°Well, I guess she hadn¡¯t gotten those instructions about laying low.¡± ¡°How loud was she?¡± Joe asked, all false mirth forgotten for neutral quickness. ¡°Not. She also hit a gang in the slums. Some interesting intel, there.¡± Joe nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. Again, his internal sense of passion hardly shifted from apathetic. Truly a bizarre individual. ¡°You passed along those instructions then?¡± Belobog nodded. ¡°Yeah. Let her know to chill for a bit. Also made sure she¡¯s on-board for the gig. Needed to use a bit of incentive.¡± ¡°And that was all?¡± Joe asked, eyebrow raised. ¡°By my estimation, that should not have taken so long. Was there trouble?¡± ¡°You¡¯re not her dad,¡± Ay said, joking. Or attempting one. Given their familial background, however, her intent was hit or miss. Bee grunted in response, temper raising a fraction. ¡°No,¡± Joe said slowly, before smiling and adding, ¡°Thank the Crown.¡± ¡°Ugh. Yeah. But¡­ yeah.¡± Belobog shook herself loose from the stupor. Ay and Bee seemed simple on the surface, but there were depths to them she could lose herself in. ¡°Our patron¡¯s agent found me and wanted a report.¡± ¡°Anything to worry about?¡± Joe asked, an eyebrow raising slightly. ¡°Maybe?¡± Belobog answered. ¡°Depends on if you like doing paperwork.¡± Joe grimaced, a rather put-upon expression, which was exaggerated compared to the numbed down feelings he actually felt. ¡°Not at all,¡± he said. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± Belobog led off, acting a fraction shy in response to Joe¡¯s own shift. Were it not for the twins, she and he could have played this straight. ¡°The agent wants a dossier or a write-up of some sort for the new girl. The prospective, like you called it.¡± ¡°Ah¡­¡± Joe said, tapping his chin. ¡°And I¡¯m to write this?¡± Joe asked Belobog nodded, ¡°Agent said you¡¯d know what to do, and I have no idea what goes in one of these. I didn¡¯t even know we did them. Seems like an unnecessary risk for not a lot of profit, but the patron pays the bills, yeah?¡± ¡°True,¡± Joe said, adding on a mix between a snort and a huff, which Belobog thought might have been supposed to be amusement, but she was unsure. Fortunately, before she had to come up with a suitable response, Bee inserted himself with a blunt question. ¡°The girl,¡± Bee said. ¡°She good?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± Belobog said, turning to where the twins sat. ¡°I mean, she¡¯s at least decent. She¡¯s pulled off some solid heists too. Don¡¯t know what else her credentials are, but she seems competent.¡± Bee leveled an unblinking stare at Belobog, as though to complain about the number of words spoken. ¡°She fight?¡± he asked, simplifying his original question. As if Belobog needed that. It was Bee that needed to broaden his horizons beyond pit-fights. But, Belobog decided to play the game, leading Bee on for a bit. ¡°Yeah, ¡®course,¡± Belobog said. ¡°You count ribbon-fighting, yeah?¡± Bee did not respond in the way Belobog thought. ¡°Be a fool not to,¡± he said, in all seriousness. Belobog decided to play it straight. ¡°She¡¯s good. Mostly acrobats and infil, though. Not a front-line fighter like you. Maybe more like Ay?¡± ¡°Right,¡± Joe said, clapping his hands once. ¡°She¡¯s a thief of ability. I assume our patron was interested in how she¡¯ll fit into our plans?¡± ¡°Yeah, I guess¡­¡± Belobog shrugged, before taking the chance to leave, now that her piece had been said. ¡°Look, I gotta bounce, head¡¯s killing me¡­¡± Naturally, immediately, irritatingly, Joe¡¯s eyes went straight to the stubs of her horns. ¡°Sounds good,¡± he said, paused, then offered. ¡°Did you want my help with that?¡± That¡­ actually would be helpful. Very helpful. There were quite a few nerve clusters in the horns. ¡°Uhh, sure? I mean, if you wouldn¡¯t mind?¡± she said, glanced towards the twins, then back towards Joe. ¡°I gotta turn in right now though. So¡­ maybe tomorrow?¡± ¡°Ah,¡± Joe said, nodding. ¡°That is unfortunate, but I understand your desire to put it off. I would too, were I you.¡± Bee narrowed his eyes in suspicion, verging on disapproval, while Ay gave a quick peek at her brother to see if he was catching this. He was, to Belobog¡¯s ire. ¡°Unfortunate?¡± Belobog asked Joe, shaking off the judgment radiating off the albino Meohrs. ¡°Why say that?¡± ¡°Well,¡± Joe said casually. ¡°It¡¯s just that if we were to do so now, I could offer a strong pain-killer to help.¡± ¡°Why not offer it tomorrow?¡± ¡°It¡¯s best to sleep it off before attempting duties with potentially dire consequences.¡± Not that she had anything specifically like that planned for the next day, but she could see his point. ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯ll take you up on that now then,¡± she said. Because, truthfully, she had tried several anesthetics, and none of them really took the edge off. But Joe was resourceful. He probably had the good stuff hiding up his sleeve. Joe stood up from where he had been lounging, and began to lead the way to the upstairs workshop, when Bee decided to throw his not inconsiderable weight in for a definitely unwanted opinion. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t disrespect your ancestors,¡± he said, using a longer string of words than Belobog knew he could say. ¡°Shameful,¡± he finished with a grunt. Ay rolled her eyes and slugged her brother in the shoulder. ¡°Idiot,¡± she hissed. ¡°She¡¯s just grinding them down so she can do her job. Nobody said anything about spitting on her grandparents or whatever.¡± ¡°It is the same,¡± Bee replied sternly. If Belobg was none the wiser, she would have thought Bee significantly older than his sister. Instead, Ay was older than her brother by several minutes. ¡°Fascinating as this is,¡± Joe said, interrupting the conversation before it could reach an unfortunate conclusion, ¡°Belobog needs rest, so the sooner we get this done, the better.¡± ¡°But¨C¡± Bee began to issue another grudging reprimand, but Joe held up his hand. ¡°No butts young man, not unless they¡¯re walking themselves to bed. And besides, not all of us can be so proud of your people to wear it.¡± Bee narrowed his eyes, Ay cackled, and Belobog was left wondering where Joe had picked this act up from. However, he must have had a better read on the twins, as they dropped the topic and allowed Belobog to depart in peace. Joe held the door open for her, and then before he followed her in, he bid the twins a pleasant rest, and met Belobog in the workshop, which was mostly there to sharpen weapons and repair gear. The workshop was still largely too new, having been set up recently. Some of the tools were still unused. The floor-plans had been just slightly overly ambitious, but Belobog had nothing to do with that, and it was their patron footing the bill anyways, so what would she care? Joe gestured towards a stool in front of one of the benches and he left off to unlock a cabinet that Belobog had never noticed before, to pull out an expensive looking green glass bottle. Before she could ask, Joe answered. ¡°It¡¯s absinthe, the real stuff,¡± he said. ¡°Made from wormwood. It¡¯ll take the worst of it off.¡± Belobog gave the bottle a closer inspection, though she hardly knew what too look for, and it was unlikely that he would drug her. At least not before she had outlived her usefulness. She hoped. She peeked. She confirmed. Her headache worsened. The man¡¯s mind was solid bedrock. Consistent, hiding gems, but not worth the hassle beyond a quick confirmation of surface thoughts. He poured several fingers worth of the tan liquid, half filling a tumbler, which he gently set down before her. ¡°Worth its weight in dungeon stone, so eat up.¡± ¡°Spirit cores, you mean,¡± Belobog muttered idly, not that the point of contention really mattered. They were what they were. Glowing rocks stolen from the hearts of twisted flesh of perverted shrines. ¡°This will really work?¡± She tilted the glass and lifted it to her nose. The aroma was strong, sweet, and not entirely dissimilar from some of the poisons she may or may not have worked with in the past. ¡°Don¡¯t believe me?¡± he asked, before pointing towards a stamp on the glass of the bottle. It was the mark of a Crown, meaning that the bottle at least was either a forgery, or incredibly expensive. Either way, it proved nothing as the wax seal had already been broken by the time the bottle had come down. Regardless, she already trusted Joe with her life, or rather, had taken some precautions to guarantee her safety. Were he to make a move, this was hardly the time he would choose. So, without overly worrying further about things she would struggle to change, she knocked the glass back, sending the contents sloshing against her palate before sliding down the back of her throat. She slammed the tumbler back down on the workbench. ¡°Another,¡± she said, or implied. She was somewhat distracted by the flavor profile, the burning sensations, and following the absinthe as it ran down her esophagus like lightning. Joe smirked, pouring another finger for her. He then began picking through one of the only tool chests that saw active use. He came out with the file she had used most recently. It still had black grains of keratin stuck in its crevasses. Joe tsked at the sight, before digging out a wire brush and a very sharp chisel. She downed another shot, and began ignoring Joe. The man was practically invisible. She glanced around at the largely unused space. Several workbenches had been pressed against the walls, though only the one she sat at had seen any use, at least judging by the wood and metal shavings that had been blown up against the crack between the bench and wall. It was then that Joe¡¯s presence shifted slightly in frequency and amplitude, growing slightly in pressure. Of course, the change where usually there was none to little drew her attention. He felt¡­ if she had to describe it, as eager. As though he were looking forward to the task before him. But not the current one, which was brushing down the files and ensuring the teeth were sharp. No, the upcoming one. The one that would just so happen cause Belobog quite a bit of pain. It was suspicious. Well, it was hardly news to her, really. So what, the man was apathetic, slightly sadistic, and very likely broken. She just wished this came at someone else¡¯s expense. At least he was helping her, she consoled herself. Then, because she was still feeling far too much, she shot the next shot back. The flavor really popped this time. Licorice, with the spice of ethanol and something more. The fumes rising through the back of her throat were causing her head to spin. Joe glanced up at the noise of the tumbler hitting the bench. ¡°Another?¡± he asked, gesturing towards the green bottle. Her eyes lazily followed where he pointed, towards the curious bottle. The labeling had been scratched off, but the Crown was stamped into the glass, marking the bottle as an officially produced alchemical. How much had he paid for it? Or had it been stolen. Fallen off the cart, maybe? Regardless, it was¡­ the good stuff. Not that all of her agreed. Her headache was resisting. Quite vocally. The sensation of spinning, of dizziness, failed to mesh with the nausea inducing migraine at all. She could either push through, drowning out the sensation and maybe harming her liver in the process, or she could back up and muscle through the anticipated pain. She already knew her choice. She slid the tumbler towards him and nodded. Another shot hit the back of her throat. Her migraine conceded defeat, and her face felt fuzzy. So did her hands. A small part of the back of her mind insisted that she was currently vulnerable, that she should release a scream of mental energy to disrupt and disable anyone near her. She had enough presence of mind to avoid doing so, however. If those around her wished her harm, then she would have already been harmed. They needed her, at least for now. The corner of Joe¡¯s lips curled just slightly as he watched her drink. ¡°Good stuff,¡± he said. While the absinthe kicked in, he began running a wire brush over the file, cleaning out the debris from the grooves. He then began the laborious process of deepening those grooves, a constant and faint shwick¨Cshwick¨Cshwick¨C ¡°One more?¡± he asked. Belobog shook her head. Any more and there was the risk of embarrassment, vomit, and possibly a psychic scream, possibly lethal. Belobog wondered if there was a special term for accidentally murdering team-mates. She could always find out. Though then the deal would be off with the patron and tracking down her brother. Worse, the patron would already be searching for her brother, and she would be helpless to stop them from finding him and extracting any punishment they felt she deserved. She managed to shake her head, though her eyes kept following through on the motion even after her neck reversed directions. There was some vertigo. The file was soon prepared, and Joe raised his hands, moving a bit too quickly for Belobog¡¯s intoxicated state. He pulled back the shawl covering her head, and then tossed the hair band aside. He grabbed her chin and tilted her head each way, inspecting the recent growths protruding from her temple. ¡°A bit worse than usual,¡± he said. ¡°Want something to bite down on?¡± As he asked the last part, he opened another drawer, showing scraps of twine and leather straps, along with clattering spare rivets. She winced at the noise, the flavor of absinthe, and the anticipated clash of whatever oiled bit of leather she would be biting down on. Almost, she declined. But the taste really was a boon, if she thought of it. The gross flavor might help distract from the pain. And at the very least, it would keep her from biting her tongue or risking her teeth chipping. Thus, she agreed. A slip of leather entered between her teeth. Joe brought the file up, it loomed across her vision and she shut her eyes, both to keep dust from them, and because the file and Joe¡¯s hand were uncomfortably close. And then, it began. She only whimpered slightly. Absorption 2.5.1 Absorption 2.5.1 At the Academy, I took two classes which I greatly enjoyed, however I would only ever admit to the first, and that was Dance. The instructor of this course, a woman with hair poorly dyed red, was named Instructor Rose, though she was purportedly Ruby. It was likely a stage name, which for her was fitting, as she lived and breathed the performing arts. Since Academy had begun, several weeks had come and gone, with a routine falling into place, though I had a deadline looming with Barone Ore and his alleged grimoire, for which Belobog was holding a meeting for later tonight. Marianne and I had just finished warming up at the stretch bar in the Recital Hall, where our class typically took place. I felt some excitement as the Instructor passed through the back curtains and entered the space, indicating that the lesson was about to begin. She spread her arms wide, striking an elegant and swan-like posture as she bowed to the class, one slippered foot towards us, the other trailing behind. Instructor Rose tended towards the dramatics, not that this characteristic detracted from her class. ¡°Today, I have a sensational treat for you,¡± the Instructor said. ¡°I will demonstrate for you a dance of ancient lineage, shrouded in both controversy and mystery. This moment unto the next, you will observe, then you will learn, dream, and finally, may you be inspired, perhaps, perform.¡± She finished bowing in a single fluid motion, pivoting on the toes of her back foot and spinning so that her back was towards us, from whence she strode to the far side of the floor in a very strange and melodious gait. Likewise, she turned back to face us, and she bowed once more. When she arose once more, she accompanied the motion with words. ¡°This moment is for the Ra¡¯Slae,¡± she finished, apparently naming the routine she would be performing. While I watched the Instructor begin her performance, I could not help but also observe the students in my vicinity. None seemed to immediately recognize the name of the dance, though several had fallen under the spell of the performance. Notably, the performance was sensuous. Notably, those most distracted were also boys, though at least one girl also blushed. Meanwhile, the instructor danced. In more than one way, her dance could be likened to my own practice with the battle-ribbon. When she spun, her motions were always controlled, and she often followed with a backwards lunge, though graceful. She also moved with an internal sense of rhythm, inaudible to all but her, but clear for those of us watching. She performed without the aid of music, and this did not detract from her act. In otherways, her dance, the Ra¡¯Slae, seemed quite dissimilar to my own efforts. More than once she bent backwards at the waist and sent one leg high, performing a vertical sort of splits that would have been incredibly difficult without the preternatural aid of a Mark. As she performed this particular maneuver, several boys caught sight down her cleavage, and even I found myself glancing. However, all things end, and good things end soonest of all. She soon was striding back, before bowing up, embracing the sky, then bending low, as though hugging the earth, and finally, she shuddered in place, reminiscent of a tolling bell. In solemn silence, she finished. Her hair was not askew, nor was she out of breath, and not a hint of perspiration hid upon her brow. Such impossibilities occurred regularly in this world. If the instructor expected an ovation, she appeared unbothered without receiving it. In fact, if anything, it seemed the opposite. Several students frowned in consternation. Particularly, a boorish looking girl with a square jaw and overly tight bodice seemed quite irritated. Before Instructor Rose could speak, nearly as soon as the instructor finished her dance, this girl made a derisive and snide comment, though she phrased this as a question. ¡°You cannot expect us to perform this,¡± the girl said. ¡°Several of us can barely line dance, let alone¨C¡± she waved her hands to encompass the entirety of the space that the instructor had just danced through ¡°-this. What purpose was there in showing us this?¡± the girl finished asking; it seemed clear that the girl thought the performance vainglorious at best. ¡°Ah,¡± the instructor sighed in reminiscence. ¡°Would that all of you could perform the Ra¡¯Slae¡­¡± she finished with a definite tone of longing. She briefly stared off into the distance. ¡°In my days with the troupe, our most riveting performances were those where we danced a similar number.¡± The girl scoffed, clearly knowing something that we did not. ¡°But, the realities are such¡­¡± the instructor looked upon us, pursing her lips to the side. ¡°Perhaps some of you may find success in such an endeavor? It may be too much to hope for, but if even some of you may perform this ancient and sacred dance, then my time here may be worthwhile.¡± The girl scoffed, clearly untaken by the instructor¡¯s words. ¡°So what,¡± the girl asked. ¡°You¡¯re only going to teach some of us? Whoever you think is worthy of your time?¡± The instructor seemed to realize that all was not well with the student body. She refocused upon us, seemingly remembering where we were: at an Academy filled with wealthy scions who had egos to match. She winced slightly as she seemed to recognize the girl who had been asking such questions. The instructor made an attempt to backtrack. ¡°Well¡­ no¡­¡± the instructor said. ¡°But perhaps¡­ the students can split into groups, and then¡­¡± she trailed off, watching the disapproval grow on the girl¡¯s face; in a typical fashion, several of the students followed the girl¡¯s lead, forming an impromptu coalition of sorts. ¡°I think that you will find many of us unimpressed,¡± the girl said dryly. ¡°Especially as I, along with several of my friends, are attending this class in specific for a reason. In case you were wondering, this reason is not to watch others learn an overly complicated dance that has no bearing on our current abilities.¡± Instructor Rose frowned, working her jaw slightly, though all of these expressions came across as minute. Finally, after a moment of heavy consideration, the instructor asked, ¡°What¡­ what would you recommend then?¡± Meanwhile, as one of the students that could likely learn to replicate this dance, I wanted to groan, as the instructor had just lost all initiative in the conversation, yielding advantage to the girl. ¡°I recommend,¡± the girl said bluntly, ¡°that you instruct us. Preferably in material that is relevant and within our capabilities.¡± ¡°Is that all?¡± the instructor asked. ¡°As that is what¨C¡± The girl groaned in vexation. ¡°Just pick something practical to learn! That we can actually use! That dance, whatever you call it, will absolutely never be useful in polite society. Some of us have galas to attend! We need to practice routines for that. Not¡­ not this.¡± The girl finished, losing some steam. Instructor Rose nodded in consideration, although she did elaborate upon her original justifications for the lesson plan. ¡°The Ra¡¯Slae is a well storied emblem of the highest society,¡± she said. ¡°Surely the ability to recognize and converse on it would be helpful?¡± ¡°Are you asking or are you teaching?¡± the girl asked. ¡°Because, so far, today, it seems that you have forced us to watch you perform an overly elaborate dance which we will certainly never encounter in just about any setting where someone like myself would be dancing. Unless one of you¨C¡± the girl scanned the surrounding students, though most failed to meet her imperious gaze ¡°-came to class today wanting to be forced to watch the instructor show off?¡± The instructor winced, but none of the students stepped in to either confirm or deny the girl¡¯s assertions. Truthfully, the girl may have had a point. However, personally, I enjoyed the lesson thus far, not that I would contradict the potentially affluent girl. Though, I did wonder why the girl was in attendance, if she disliked the instructor so strongly. If, the girl disliked the instructor. It may have been that the girl just found this particular lesson disagreeable. I found that the instructor had a certain genuine charm to her. She never once called me out for my false-arm, or gave it anymore than a second glance, unlike several of the other instructors. At least if she did have opinions, she waited until I was beyond earshot to share them. But, if this girl had the ear of a principal, or some other form of influence, I hardly wanted on her bad side either. Yet, despite these reservations, this did not mean I could not offer aid to the instructor. ¡°Perhaps there is a middle ground?¡± I asked, inserting myself into the conversation. At least two of the students winced at me, and those standing nearest me, excepting Marianne, flinched when the girl turned an imperious glare towards me. ¡°Is that so?¡± the girl scoffed. ¡°I suppose if there would be a person to gain from this lesson, it would be you, and only you. Which leads to the question, of why bother with the lesson? Are there not several of us more worthy of the instructor¡¯s lesson? Why should we spend an hour of hour lives to enrichen you, you, of all people?¡± The girl made no disguise of the disgusted glance she spared my left arm. And while she never lowered herself to the level of course language, she had no issue in otherwise communicating her negative feelings. This fact likely explained the fact that every time I heard her voice I had to force myself to remain calm and placid, to avoid showing the growing animosity I felt for her. It was strange, as even the worst of bullies would not have necessarily caused such a pavlovian reaction in me. Likely, this stood testament to the girl¡¯s unpleasant aura. ¡°You were saying, Jackie?¡± the instructor asked, granting me further initiative in the conversation for which I was grateful, though I was curious as to where the instructor had found such incentive to provide such a boon. She had already all but rolled over for the girl. However, as curious as I was for when she regained her confidence, I was not to allow this boon to go unseized. ¡°A course of action that would satisfy all parties and requirements,¡± I said. The girl scoffed, went to open her mouth, but I continued onward, not giving her a chance to regain an advantage. ¡°The instructor has granted us a demonstration of this dance, which she mentioned has a rich cultural and historical significance. This means that should we ever be in a position to observe a similar performance in polite society¨C¡± ¡°-Unlikely,¡± the girl attempted to cut in, but I continued pressing forward without losing momentum. ¡°-that we may make polite and relevant commentary, thus furthering our own positions.¡± At this point I noticed several of the students nodding, even if I also heard someone mutter, ¡°unlikely you¡¯d be allowed there,¡± from one of the spare sons following the Grace path. These rumblings failed to cause me dismay, as they were nothing beyond the norm. I continued, ¡°But in order to make this dialogue, we would need additional pertinent details¨C¡± I gestured towards the instructor. ¡°-If you would be so kind as to enlighten us?¡± Privately, I hoped we would also be given the chance to practice, even if such a practice was optional. ¡°Right¡­ the Ra¡¯Slae¡­¡± Instructor said, seeming to get her bearings. She took a position directly in front of where we loosely lined the stretch bar, before she began to monologue. ¡°The dance originates from before the Shattering, and is suspected to predate the Middens Empire,¡± the instructor said. A boy scoffed, ¡°How would anyone know if it was before the Shattering? Even if it was, isn¡¯t it, somewhat, risky, to say that?¡± The Instructor winced. ¡°It may or may not be,¡± she admitted, reluctantly. ¡°However, this has already been written in several histories, and I have not seen any of them banned. But please do, take it with a grain of salt.¡± Under her breath, she added, ¡°and please don¡¯t go on a crusade in the library¡­¡± before shaking herself and getting back on track. ¡°But for your first question, we know that the dance predates the Shattering because of what the dance, in essence, is. But before I give this away, please, tell me your impressions of the dance.¡± ¡°Elaborate. Very, very, complicated¡­¡± one of the girls said. ¡°Prone to twist an ankle,¡± Marianne muttered, and likely she was correct, at least in regards to some if they attempted to perform the Ra¡¯Slae. ¡°Swoops and loops,¡± a dullard of a child said. I felt embarrassed even just hearing his response. ¡°Worthless, beyond the academics of it,¡± the square jawed girl said. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. It was at this point I learned her name, and it was high time for that as well. ¡°Yes,¡± the instructor snapped, apparently losing patience. ¡°We all know your thoughts on this, Brittany,¡± the instructor said, her spine straightening, perhaps due to the passion in her voice. ¡°However, I have not heard many answers of a serious nature. Would this be how you behave during Etiquette, or perhaps during the principal¡¯s tea ceremony?¡± Several shifting feet was all that answered her, although I did silently offer my support by shaking my head. ¡°If I am to teach relevant material, as so requested, then students must put forth efforts to balance this. I¡¯ll ask again, and give serious answers this time, please. As I demonstrated the Ra¡¯Slae, what feelings arose? As dance is a form of communication, what was said by these movements?¡± Surprisingly, it was Brittany who offered the first actual answer. I had thought that I would be required to fill this role, and had not expected her to volunteer. ¡°Forlorn and longing,¡± Brittany offered, ¡°although I am unsure of what we are to be longing for.¡± Instructor paused, surprised that it was Brittany, her previously largest detractor, who had answered positively and seriously. The instructor smiled at Brittany, seeming to have forgotten all past transgressions. She nodded. ¡°A wonderful start, and thank you for obliging us, Miss Gold.¡± Brittany Gold. I would remember her name. ¡°What else?¡± the instructor asked, turning towards the rest of us. As her eyes lingered upon me, I offered the next observation. ¡°The slow build up covered much distance,¡± I pointed from where she had started, to the midpoint of the dance on the far side of the floor, to where she had ended near us. ¡°But never once did it seem at a hurried pace. The footwork was graceful and striding, reminding me almost of a ribbon trailing through the air.¡± ¡°Hardly a ribbon dance,¡± someone complained. ¡°No, it is not. But I could almost envision one trailing behind her.¡± ¡°Would you say, almost like a streamer?¡± Instructor asked, hinting at something. Someone else jumped in, ¡°a stream?¡± someone thought aloud. ¡°You know, it did sort of remind me of the gardens at night. There¡¯s this spot, a bench by a manicured creek. I could see it. In an inexact sort of way.¡± ¡°Which gardens are these?¡± Brittany asked, head tilted. ¡°Or are you referring to your estate?¡± ¡°Ah¡­¡± the child hemmed, cheeks reddening. ¡°Nevermind then¡­¡± Curious. Brittany scoffed and shook her head. ¡°Idiot,¡± someone muttered, though I was unsure of why. ¡°Regardless,¡± the instructor said. ¡°That description was fitting.¡± ¡°It¡­ it was?¡± the child asked, surprised. ¡°Yes!¡± Instructor said. ¡°The Ra¡¯Slae is said to have originally been a celebration of moonlight over a laughing brook.¡± ¡°Which is how we know it predates the Shattering,¡± the boy from earlier said, nodding in dawning comprehension. ¡°Exactly.¡± ¡°But¡­ what would moonlight even look like?¡± That was an unfortunate reality of this world that I was still coming to grips with myself. The mystery, I felt, was that everyone remained healthy even with the deficiency in vitamins from direct sunlight. Also, it was a mystery how plants grew. Though this world did have magic of a sort, so perhaps I should have checked my rudimentary knowledge of physics and biochemistry at the door. ¡°That question is all the more reason to celebrate this dance, this, this artistry!¡± Instructor flung her arms wide. ¡°How else can we carry forth our heritage? How else can we remember what it was to feel the moonlight?¡± ¡°Are we certain the dance has not evolved or changed?¡± Brittany asked, sounding dubious. ¡°Even the spoken language has changed since then, and this has the benefit of being, you know, an actual language, instead of dance.¡± ¡°Ah, but because it is dance, we are able to remember and instruct it exactly. Spoken language is used daily by the masses, leading to growth and change. Dance is intentional and taught by experts, thus preserving the motions of it.¡± Brittany shrugged, somewhat conceding the point. ¡°Will we have the opportunity to learn this dance?¡± I asked, already planning on how this could further my own repertoire of skills, perhaps enhancing my Flexibility Talent, or even encouraging the growth of a new one altogether. The instructor hesitated, bit her bottom lip, and did a slight bounce. ¡°Maybe, a select few¨C¡± There arose protests. ¡°-it will be voluntary, of course, and will have no bearing on the rest of you. You and I will chat after class, Jackie. I can already see you learning this¨C¡± ¡°-of course she would-¡± ¡°But the performance of the semblance aside! I was asked to provide you all with the knowledge to provide meaningful commentary in polite society, was it? Well,¡± she switched to a teasing tone, ¡°how can I do this without offering my students the incentive to learn? I may just have to break from my usual routine and have a quiz on this.¡± Several groans then came. ¡°A quiz on what? How we felt after the dance?¡± Brittany asked with some speculation and scorn. ¡°That, and other things,¡± the instructor said. ¡°For instance, some controversy surrounds the proper means of performance. Either thirteen parts, matching the Crown¡¯s favored number, or the historically accounted fifteen parts, providing a multiple of three. In the first nine parts, we make the journey there and back for the moonlight glistening across the stream. These movements are elegant and fast, though misleadingly slow to the audience. On the ninth, an homage is paid to the moon, an embrace of the firmament. On the tenth, we celebrate the ground beneath our feet. The eleventh and twelfth, we journey betwixt the ground and firmament, and on the final beat, a frenetic ending to harken back to the Shattering. It is here that a point of contention occurs.¡± ¡°I thought this dance predated the Shattering. How could it reference it in the movement?¡± ¡°An excellent question, and this is why the thirteenth beat is somewhat controversial. The oldest and most traditional form of the dance spends the thirteenth through the fifteenth in a spiraling celebration that some have said is quite feminine¨C¡± she cleared her throat and blushed ¡°-and very alluding, leading the audience to picture many things that would perhaps be inappropriate in our setting, or any setting you are likely to find yourself in.¡± ¡°Are you sure these books aren¡¯t banned?¡± ¡°Ha,¡± Instructor said. ¡°It is true that there is controversy here, but this is no more scandalous than many other artifacts of those times. Plenty of those still remain, and are even taught, as an abject lesson.¡± ¡°Because they¡¯re useful. How would this be?¡± ¡°Well¡­.¡± the instructor hesitated. ¡°Should you ever find yourselves beyond our borders, or perhaps, Crown forbid, lost to the mists, then perhaps it would be appropriate to know the original version.¡± Several shuddered at the mention of the mists. I would need to find more on this later. After class, on the way out, I walked with Marianne. Brittany did not linger, she quickly left with her entourage, though I could not fail to miss the look she gave me. She did, however, provide a respectful nod towards the instructor. Before Marianne and I could exit, we were intercepted by the instructor. ¡°Jackie!¡± Instructor Rose called from behind. ¡°A moment, if you aren¡¯t in too much of a rush? Your next class is the Arts of Massage, so not too far of a walk¡­ I think? I know I¡¯ve peaked in before and thought I saw you, your hair is a bit distinctive. Beautiful, really¨C¡± ¡°-Yes, Instructor,¡± Marianne cut in. ¡°We were just headed to class. But we have a bit¡­ I think?¡± Instructor Rose¡¯s eyes glanced to the side, where another was waiting, and clearly listening in. I had only just realized the other girl was there myself, the familiar tall and lithe blonde girl leaning against a wall, still wearing her training jerkin. She was watching us, probably waiting. A delay to learning whatever it was Kate wanted would be to my benefit. She still looked covered in sweat and grime, and one of her bluish blonde hairs had curled and stuck against her forehead. ¡°-wonderful!¡± Instructor Rose clapped and spun on her toe, coming to a stop precisely where she had started, without so much as jostling her clothes. Impressive control. ¡°Then, Jackie, I wanted to speak to you about an opportunity that I think would fit you well. Kate¡¯s eyes narrowed, but she made no move to interrupt. I allowed my attention to slip from her and fall completely on the Instructor. From this close, I could see her roots were starting to come back in. ¡°An opportunity of what nature?¡± I asked. ¡°What other kind?¡± Instructor Rose asked with a wry tone. ¡°Of dance, of life, celebration, an exhibition of the arts to mark the beginning of the grand contest and carnival, and possibly also Kwin Red¡­¡± Kwin Red, that was not the first time I had heard the term. It was typically spoken with a sort of inevitability that slotted into everyday life, similar as to how someone would mention a thunderstorm. It just simply was, and life went on around it. ¡°A performance then?¡± I asked, shuffling those thoughts to the side. ¡°Will other students be performing? And who will the audience be.¡± ¡°Yes!¡± Marianne clapped her hands in excitement, apparently unable to contain herself a second longer. ¡°You said it¡¯s for the grand contest? You mean the one for the games in the capitol?¡± Marianne gasped. ¡°Will the king be there?¡± The Instructor smiled gently at Marianne, before shaking her head. ¡°Nothing so ambitious as that, dear. This is merely for the performance here in Southbridge, although it is possible the Princess will attend. But definitely the baron.¡± ¡°Oh¡­¡± Marianne deflated slightly, before filling back to full, ¡°And the students will be performing?¡± Instructor Rose hummed and shimmied slightly. ¡°Not as such.¡± ¡°But Jackie is?¡± Marianne asked. ¡°A different sort than most of the leaden feet in class, which is why I thought to bring this up outside.¡± ¡°Seems a bit mean,¡± Marianne muttered. ¡°Please, Marianne, I know what it feels like to be left out, but Jackie has that special something, that spark, that, that talent!¡± She finished with a finger pointed upwards. ¡°Not saying that she isn¡¯t talented,¡± Marianne said under her breath, before shaking herself loose and putting on a false smile. ¡°Anyways, Instructor Rose. You were mentioning that Jackie could perform?¡± ¡°Possibly, maybe¡­¡± she hesitated, before elaborating. ¡°My troupe is putting on a performance, and we¡¯re looking for a supporting role. It¡¯s not a hard gap, but a gap nonetheless. If you can, Jackie, would you be willing to audition for it? I know you¡¯re talented, of course, but the rest of my troupe needs that assurance as well¡­¡± A portion of me wanted to know what was in this for me, besides the potential goodwill. Afterall, there would be some investment required, even if I failed the audition. However, I had the perfect excuse to delay. ¡°You have given me a substantial amount to think on,¡± I said. ¡°What¡¯s there to think about, Jackie?¡± Marianne asked. ¡°I have several competing requirements for my time, at the moment. Such as our next class, which we still need to get to?¡± I arched an eyebrow at the shorter girl. ¡°Of course, of course,¡± Instructor Rose said. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to cause you to be truant. Especially for such a¡­ salacious course,¡± she winked. I grimaced slightly, ever so slightly, but finished with a pained smile. ¡°As you say, instructor,¡± I finished, turning around and pulling Marianne along by her shoulder at first, to encourage her disengagement from the conversation. ¡°Think about it!¡± Instructor Rose shouted after. ¡°I will, you may be certain of that¡­¡± As we pulled away, the Instructor returned to her hall, and we were intercepted by Kate, who had been patiently waiting, in a manner that was a bit surprising for the ordinarily forward and blunt Sir Kate Guardson. ¡°Hey,¡± she said. ¡°Thought that assistant would talk your ear off forever. Glad to see she cut you loose.¡± ¡°Assistant?¡± Marianne asked. ¡°You mean Instructor Rose.¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± Kate asked. ¡°You know she¡¯s just an assistant to Principal Grace?¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t Principal Grace the one that runs Tea Ceremonies with Master Plum?¡± ¡°Uhhhh maybe?¡± Kate said. ¡°Not like you¡¯d catch me dead there, but sounds about right.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Marianne tapped her chin. ¡°If she¡¯s just an assistant, then why¡¯s she teaching, and not Grace, like you said?¡± ¡°Pffff,¡± Kate shrugged. ¡°The Principal got old. But she¡¯s a famous dancer from back when, at least according to mom. And, I guess, ¡®culture.¡¯¡± She did finger quotations as she said that, as though it were a bad word. ¡°Anyways, enough of that. You got plans for later, Jackie?¡± I paused before answering. There had been a thing that Belobog mentioned, though I was drawing a bit of a blank. ¡°I may?¡± ¡°Well, yes or no?¡± ¡°Why do you ask?¡± ¡°I¡¯m thinking about taking you on a date, yeah?¡± she wiggled her eyebrows. Marianne gasped in delight. ¡°You¡¯re finally an item?!¡± ¡°No,¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I narrowed my eyes at Kate. ¡°Well, s¡¯not like it¡¯s official. But yeah? Unless you got some side action going on? Anyone I need to introduce myself to?¡± she asked with a menacing aire, leaving little doubt as to what such a theoretical introduction would include. ¡°I am uncertain if tonight would work,¡± I said, edging around the ambiguous plans that I was struggling to recall, uncharacteristically. ¡°Jackie,¡± Marianne said flatly. ¡°Sir Kate Guardson, daughter of the Captain of the High Knights, is asking you out on a date. I think that whatever possible plans you have can wait.¡± ¡°Can they?¡± I asked, some annoyance in my voice. ¡°And what of my shift then?¡± ¡°Plenty of time between the end of school and then, right?¡± ¡°See?¡± Marianne asked, waving her hands dramatically. ¡°Kate knows! You should go with her, it would be fun!¡± ¡°Yep,¡± Kate said. ¡°And I get no say in this?¡± ¡°Course you do,¡± Kate said, confused. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t you? If you don¡¯t wanna go, just say no.¡± ¡°She wants to go.¡± ¡°Perhaps,¡± I said, lacking a means to refute that without ruining relationships or possible resources. ¡°But if we were to do this today, we would be required to cut it short. Could we not wait until a better time? To allow us a better allotment with which to enjoy ourselves?¡± ¡°Huh.¡± Kate grunted, flexing her jaw and stretching it. ¡°That¡­ you know, that makes sense. So, you¡¯re thinking week¡¯s end?¡± ¡°If I know in advance, I can request the night off,¡± I said leadingly. ¡°Not that it is guaranteed Ma would give it.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure she would, if she knew what you¡¯d be getting up to, and with who¡­¡± Marianne offered. ¡°But, yeah¡­ and that¡¯s if I let you know in advance?¡± I nodded tersely. ¡°I really do think I had something later today as well, though I am struggling to remember just what it is currently.¡± ¡°I have that effect sometimes,¡± Kate winked. ¡°But, sounds like a plan. Works better for me anyways, especially for what I¡¯m planning. It¡¯ll be good. Look forward to it, yeah?¡± ¡°Indeed.¡± ¡°Well then¡­ urgh. Guess you better get to massage then?¡± ¡°That is our next course, yes. And we are running the risk of being tardy.¡± ¡°Better let you go then. Need you to learn all them tricks, right?¡± ¡°Why?¡± I asked, some weary disgust leaking through, but not overly much. ¡°For you to demonstrate,¡± Kate said, winking. I scoffed, ¡°It had better be an excellent date then,¡± I said. ¡°Oh, it¡¯ll be that,¡± Kate answered with confidence. As I turned to leave, parting with Kate, and walking away with Marianne, we passed a corner, and there I caught Brittany lurking with her cadre of hanger-ons. She glanced my way, scoffed, and one of her friends mentioned the word Deviant Freak. I did not find myself liking Brittany Gold. She just rubbed me the wrong way, and she seemed familiar, for some reason. I pulled Marianne away, before any ambush or unpleasant interaction could be furthered. Absorption 2.5.2 The instructions seemed simple. Go to the back side of Laverna¡¯s Cup, find the service entrance, and perform a coded knock to gain entrance. Not the most sophisticated security, but they likely were flying under the radar, so to speak. If people knew that Laverna¡¯s Cup was their base of operations, it likely would be raided, regardless of how elaborate the process to gain entry. Thus, I found myself at the backdoor. Some graffiti had been scratched onto the painted steel. Crude graffiti, of a sexual nature. I saw no reason to hide my disgust. Just simply touching the door seemed unsanitary. Which was ironic, considering where I worked and lived. Truthfully, I was stalling. While we were merely performing introductions today, and likely going over the plans for the upcoming heist, I found myself nervous. This seemed a focal point. Once I entered, then I would be accessories to this gang. In a more official manner than I already was. A significant portion of myself wanted to distance myself from Belobog and her people. They were dangerous. They were likely using me. They could be planning on tossing me aside, or worse, to the wolves. After living with such a wholesome girl as Marianne for the past weeks, I found myself loathing the idea of returning to such a threadbare state, where I required constant vigil against knives to the back. However, I already knew my decision. I would gain resources through Belobog that I would not gain otherwise. And while there was danger involved, that was true for all things, and these dangers could be mitigated. I was stalling, nervous, and I felt a wave of vertigo as if I was almost observing myself standing before the graffiti disfigured back-door. The nervous energy was growing. My anxiety began to spiral around the most ridiculous worries that at the time seemed troublesome. What if somebody saw me stalling. What if someone was already watching me. What if a patrol of Peacekeepers or Knights just happened by and saw me enter or behaving suspiciously. Should I lap around the block to make sure¨C In the end, I surprised myself by simply knocking. It almost felt as though my body were moving without my input. Since it was my false-arm that did the knocking, in a way, it had been without my input. The four tendrils imitating a clenched human hand knocked twice, paused, then knocked thrice more. That had been the correct code. Mentally, I gave the symbiotic parasite some speculative side-eye. I never had figured out just how intelligent it was. As the speculation regarding my agency and my union with the symbiotic false-arm caused me mental discomfort, I found myself instead examining the crude graffiti. It seemed to be a fairly well endowed male organ attached to a poor representation of a possible meohr. As far as distractions went, the graffiti served. Thus, I waited. Perhaps a minute had passed, though it felt much longer. My apprehensions grew. A tickling sensation formed upon the nape of my neck. It felt as though I was being spied upon. Discreetly, I checked about my surroundings. I could find no obvious lookout, but that did not mean one was not present. Why had the door not opened yet? I had knocked in the correct pattern, of this I was certain. Once more, I wondered: was this a trap? No. I had already spiraled through such anxieties. If so, it was highly elaborate when much simpler plans would have had a higher chance of success. Perhaps not a trap in the fatal sort of way, but perhaps some form of hazing? Were they screening me? Checking with Belobog? Or, and this was a loathsome thought, they had forgotten I was to arrive. What did it say about me that I preferred the idea of them prepping an ambush rather than simply forgetting myself? I shook my head and pinched the side of my thigh. While impatient thieves are hung thieves, this current state felt deplorable, and something had to simply be done. Once more I knocked, repeating the same pattern as before. This time, I used my true-hand, in case that somehow made a difference. Afterall, I only had so much time to waste standing around, especially as I had been delayed in leaving Ma¡¯Ritz. Was that the reason none had come to let me in? Because I was late in arriving? When then, should I do: simply allow myself inside? I tried the door handle, but predictably, the door was barred from the inside. A frustrated groan escaped my throat. I wanted to seek a person to blame for my tardiness, but the only person which I could blame, I refused to do. It was hardly Marianne¡¯s fault for delaying me. I supposed I could have been more forceful in extricating myself from her presence, but she had insisted on having a girls talk. This had come after our shared Massage course, where we had partnered up as was usual. What was less usual, was that she had kept insisting that I ought to find Sir Kate and take her up immediately. To Marianne¡¯s mind, being courted or asked on a date by such a person as Kate was too good to pass up. Not that I had passed up that opportunity, exactly, I perhaps was disinclined to formalize any sort of relationship between Sir Kate and I, which I feared a ¡®date¡¯ would do. Of course, my feelings towards Kate were hardly relevant on this particular day, as this particular day I had plans to make and a crew to establish rapport. However, I could hardly tell Marianne I had to go meet with a crew of thieves and criminals, which meant I ended up accompanying Marianne back to Ma¡¯Ritz. When Marianne and I had returned back to Ma¡¯Ritz from the Academy, I had made to drop my things off, change, and take off to Laverna¡¯s Cup. It was at this point that Marianne decided that I was suffering through some nature of ¡®funk.¡¯ Just thinking about that conversation left me experiencing an echo of a shudder of ill feelings. Apparently, the best thing that could be done to extricate myself from such a ¡®funk,¡¯ was to put my mind to something else. Marianne had several proposals, the most benign being to work alongside her as she tended to the tavern floor. A lesser person may have snapped. Not I. Though, it was at this point that I had had enough of her benign and well-meaning helpfulness. Rather than committing a rudeness which I would later regret, I ended up telling her I had errands to run. Naturally, she wanted the details. Also naturally, I had already considered the details of any false account I would provide for this so-called errand. If I said I had purchases to make, then she would likely exhibit interest upon my return, which would prove my deceit. This was not necessarily the end of the ruse, as I could perhaps say that I was unsuccessful, or that I had received some professional service, such as several of those ideas she had earlier shared. Unfortunately, nearly all such services were available at Ma¡¯Ritz, particularly to, for, and by, the working girls. Thus, I told her it would be a surprise, and when a large crowd entered the tavern, I used the distraction to make my escape from Marianne and Ma¡¯Ritz. Even now, waiting for this mother-cursed door to open, I could not help feelings of confusion as I considered Marianne. Her motivations and actions made little sense to me; I struggled to rationalize her behavior. Which was nothing of a surprise. My previous life had left me without the skills nor experience to deal with such persons as Marianne. Or rather, my previous life had left me with the skills to exploit such persons, which I most certainly wished to avoid doing, at least not with Marianne. But, attempting personal growth came with such difficulties, and such was life. The door. Despite the minutes that had passed, the door continued blocking my path. At this point, I may have growled an impolite phrase. I knocked once more, much more forcefully this time. And this time, something happened. I heard shuffling from the interior. Finally! I thought. Movement. Whether that was a positive would remain to be seen. From the volume of their steps, from the slight reverberation of the ground, I determined the person was on the larger side. The time intervals between plodding steps implied a long gait, or a sedate pace. The force from their feet hitting the wooden floor seemed sharper than expected from leather soles. Too many discrepancies had occurred for me to feel completely at ease. If the worst came, I would be prepared. My false-arm twinged its tendrils, coiling and preparing to lash out, should such be required. And then, finally, finally, the door opened. The interior was dim, but I could still see the mammoth of a man who had opened the door and was now peering down upon me. My eyes quickly adjusted. I took a step back to better see this person. He had horns. Bull horns. His face was bovine, covered with a white pelt. His brows were bushy, and his hair was more of a mane than anything else. A meohr? Not even considering the fact he was wearing clothes or that he had such a rare coloration, all of this was pushed to the side by the most unusual thing of all, which was a meohr who seemed sapient. Were all meohr sapient? A minute wave of horror passed through me, though this was quickly quashed. I had met plenty of them in the midst of their labors, and were they sapient, I would think I would have known it, or at the very least, the stables would be locked or otherwise better secured, besides against thieves. What made this meohr an exception then? My musings came slamming to a halt when he spoke with a gruff voice of such a deep and rich baritone that I found my chest vibrating in reverb. ¡°You the new girl?¡± he asked, snorting out through his flared nostrils. I was unsure of how to read that expression, but I thought it must have been negative. I quickly responded, to hopefully abate this possible mood of his. ¡°Perhaps,¡± I answered. ¡°Do you by chance work with for woman by the name of¨C¡± He grumbled an affirmative and turned, leading the way into the dimly lit hallway, towards an interior set of stairs. The motion made it clear I was to follow, even though it came abruptly and without preamble or niceties. It took a second for my mind to catch up and I found myself finishing the sentence. ¡°-Belobog?¡± From where he was in the hallway, I was unable to see his expression, but he made a sound and gesture that may have been him spitting on the floor. I winced. It was not the worst thing I had seen, but the people of these lands were generally obscene. ¡°You following or not?¡± he asked, more of an impatient grunt. ¡°I am,¡± I said cautiously, approaching where he was waiting in the hall. I allowed the heavy metal door to shut behind me. He led the way further in, then up the stairs. Several wall sconces could have lit the way, but the only source of actual illumination came from narrow windows from high up along the wall. Needless to say, the stairs were dark. Were it not for my low-light vision, I likely would have stumbled. I had to wonder if this was part of a test of some sort. The meohr must have had low-light vision as well, either that or he had memorized the uneven stairs. Soon, we reached an entry to an atrium, which the meohr bent down to pass through, before standing up and stretching. Several lamps were lit, providing a warm glow in a fairly large space with a sloped ceiling. Once we entered, I found myself in a sort of communal recreational space. Several linen bound couches were scattered around a focal coffee table, and a kitchen-counter with barstools and sink was set up to the side. Before I could further examine the space, I found myself also under examination, by another meohr, though this time female. She seemed amused from where she was sprawled upon a couch. ¡°Well?¡± she asked, her voice a rich contralto, pairing well with the male. ¡°This was who¡¯s knocking? I won the bet then?¡± ¡°No,¡± the male answered gruffly. ¡°I never took the bet.¡± She blew a raspberry at him, ¡°Nu-huh, you did.¡± He growled and stalked past where she laid and he headed towards what looked like a parietal gym, complete with dumbbells, sparring equipment, and most striking, a metal plated punching bag, which seemed unusual, even by this world¡¯s standards. I had to admit, for a criminal organization built over a run-down pub, the place was incredibly well furnished. The couches seemed sturdy, firmly padded, and upholstered with a thick material that would be resistant to wear and tear. The kitchen was stocked with a breadbox and an ice-chest. There even seemed to be artificed devices, including what seemed to be a crude version of an arcade console, though it currently was powered off. Which made sense, considering that Chargers were required to run devices, and Chargers were literally this country¡¯s form of monetization. But that just made the point all the more clear. This was no mere hideout meant for shoddy thieves. This was an organization with pretenses, at the very least. However, before I could investigate further, I had to deal with the room¡¯s only other current occupant, the female meohr. She was reclined upon a couch, with a magazine resting upon her stomach, and a large bottle of slightly fermented berry juice in one hand, though I failed to recognize the brand. Her hooves were up on the arm-rest, leaving her sprawled out and quite casual. Her fur coat also appeared white, which was an incredibly rare coloration for meohr. In fact, these two were the only such meohr I had ever seen. ¡°Yep,¡± the woman said, or possibly a girl, though her age was difficult to determine without asking. The way she emphasized the p, however, led me to think she was towards the younger side. The male went further in, to where a large, heavy, and metal plated bag hung from the rafters. He slipped thin mitts over his hands and began pummeling it. He was practicing rapid fire hooks, following through with swiveling footwork, though he hardly moved. His style seemed more suitable for a brawl than anything else, though that was not to say his technique was poor, but his technique did seem meant for messy situations where distance could not be gained between opponents. The female saw me watching, perhaps bordering on staring, and she smirked at me before performing an overly dramatic wink. ¡°Sooo,¡± she said, drawing it out. ¡°You gonna gawk all day? You liking what you¡¯re seeing that much?¡± Her casual mode of speech grated, more so considering her implications. I found myself frowning her way. ¡°In what manner do you mean?¡± I asked for clarification before realizing her insinuations tended towards the puerile. She scoffed, before making a crude gesture to imply coupling. My frown grew, though I quickly smoothed my face back over. ¡°No,¡± I answered truthfully. ¡°Not at all. What drew my interest was the punching bag itself. Most fists would break striking the bronze plating. Even those gloves seem too little to protect his knuckles, but perhaps they are enough?¡± The male snorted, but otherwise continued his exercise. He may have been enjoying the fact that he had an audience. It certainly seemed to be an odd decision to immediately workout upon having guests. ¡°Nah, you got it backwards,¡± she claimed. ¡°Bee wears ¡®em to protect the bag, not his hands.¡± That caused me to pause, but after quickly thinking upon it, it did not seem entirely beyond the realm of possibility. If he had the appropriate alterations or Marks or possibly even some other nature of enhancement, then it might be that the metal was softer than his bones. Other than nodding slightly, I proffered no further reaction. Clearly, this lack dissatisfied the female. ¡°Whatev,¡± she said. ¡°So, where¡¯d Belobog find ya?¡± she asked. ¡°Pretty sure somebody mentioned a whorehouse¡¯r some such?¡± I strove to maintain a calm demeanor, as I was fairly certain she was attempting to gain a rise from me. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. ¡°Apologies,¡± I said, avoiding answering her question. ¡°But we have yet to be introduced¡­¡± My attempt at an introduction was stalled by her cutting in with a rather crude sound reminiscent of flatulence. ¡°Pfft,¡± she said. ¡°Nah, your name¡¯s new girl.¡± I blinked. Were this person any less ridiculous then I likely would have expressed some outrage. However, her demeanor was off-putting enough that I was unsure of the appropriate reaction. Meanwhile, she tapped her muzzle in an expression of false thoughtfulness. ¡°You still need something to call us though. Ain¡¯t the right, new girl?¡± One of my eyelids fluttered, and my false-arm coiled slightly. ¡°...Call me Ay. Short for Kit A-32. Over there¡¯s Bee.¡± A strange name. My incredulity must have been on display, as the girl cackled. ¡°Pardon, but ¡®A?¡¯¡± I asked, verifying the pronunciation. ¡°How is that spelt?¡± She laughed, ¡°Might need to write this bit down. Ya read?¡± My original intent of repressing my frown had been forgotten. I was verging on a scowl. ¡°Alright,¡± she said, making a show as if she was preparing to provide a lengthy diatribe. ¡°Here it is. A.¡± She paused. I waited. The corners of her lips curled upwards. It was a jest of some sort. Was this her actual name, or was she merely hazing me in some form of bizarre sense of camaraderie? ¡°By chance, do you go by anything else?¡± I asked to verify. It was Bee that answered this time, before Ay could provide another name, likely one more ridiculous than the last. ¡°Just Call her Rabbit,¡± Bee said, though he punctuated each word with his fist slamming against the metal plating. ¡°You¡¯re the only one that uses that,¡± Ay said, rolling her eyes in the direction of the punching bag. ¡°Doesn¡¯t make sense for anyone else.¡± ¡°It¡¯s catchy enough. Easy to remember. Better than what you¡¯ve come up with.¡± That had to have been the longest string of words that Bee had put together yet. I thought that Ay would protest more strongly, but all she did was smile and huff in his direction, before turning her attention back towards me and slipping into a slightly more relaxed demeanor. ¡°Nah, but seriously,¡± the girl said, measuring my disbelief. ¡°Call me Ay. And my little bro over there¡¯s Bee.¡± A sudden cough forced itself from my throat. ¡°Did you say little?¡± I asked, before realizing how crude my question was. ¡°Yep,¡± she said, gloating. This sounded like a point of contention. Reaffirmed a second later when we heard Bee growling and picked up the frequency with which he struck the heavy bag. I then stood there somewhat awkwardly for the better part of a minute, while Ay went back to glancing through her magazine, occasionally taking a sip from her bottle. I was unsure if I should make myself comfortable, or just what liberties I had been granted in this situation. My impression of the siblings thus far was that they were poor hosts. But then, what expectations could I have in regards to etiquette from criminals? Still though, the moment was terse and awkward, and I found myself longing for Belobog to hurry and arrive to spare me from this. It was then that the door on the opposite side of the loft opened. At first, I assumed it to be Belobog, as I had just been thinking of her, and as she was purportedly psychic. However, this assumption was proven false, as in strode a familiar man. Joe, the bartender and sometimes fence. He had painted a good natured expression across his face, though I doubted it was a true expression of his feelings. He just gave me that feeling, though I could never exactly point my finger at any single thing. Granted, I had only met him a handful of times. He took a glance at Ay and Bee and smirked before greeting me. ¡°The twins getting into it again?¡± he asked, sounding only somewhat cultured. This was in comparison to the first time I had met him when he had acted the part of a bartender. And then when I had used him as a fence when he had acted as the odd negotiator. With the mercurialness between his mannerisms, I doubted he was any less of a manipulator than I. In fact, I suspected he may have rivaled mother. The comparison caused me to shudder. ¡°Don¡¯t pay them any mind. Belobog will be here shortly. Want for something to drink?¡± I remembered the last time he had spilled warm ale across me to provide a pretense to speak privately. I had stunk of sour ale until I had taken the time to wash my clothes. He held up his hands to wave me off. ¡°What? No, I recognize that look. We¡¯ve got better stuff up here. Promise,¡± he grinned a boy¡¯s grin. I shook my head slightly and ever so slightly shrunk away from the man and his offer. ¡°As I have obligations later tonight, I fear I must decline.¡± Turning away from her diatribe with Bee, Ay jumped in. ¡°Not much a drinker then?¡± Ay asked me, before grinning towards Joe. ¡°I¡¯ll take hers then.¡± Joe gave an almost chuckle and began digging through the ice box before grabbing another oversized glass bottle. Since she made no move to get up from where she lay, he went to hand it off, and when he did, he saw the half full bottle still in her hand. ¡°What?¡± Ay saw him looking and cackled. ¡°Don¡¯t shame a girl for drinking.¡± Joe made a sound of disapproval but finished handing the fresh bottle to her all the same. That was when Belobog entered. She had come through the same doorway Joe had just used. She either had been listening in, or she had been listening in, because she took not more than several seconds to act upon Ay claiming her second bottle. ¡°Best if we don¡¯t get drunk off our asses, yeah?¡± Belobog said more than asked. ¡°We got plans to make.¡± Ay complained but I noticed she was still nursing her first bottle, and had yet to increase the pace of her consumption. It was then that I began to suspect that Ay was putting on a false front, either to conceal or to protect. Regardless, I turned my attention to Belobog. She had yet to cease frowning in disapproval at where Ay was lounging. It was moments such as this that I wondered what it was that Belobog was sensing with her talent. Either way, she realized her judgment was wasted upon Ay, and instead turned her frown to Joe. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to enable her,¡± Belobog complained. Joe shrugged, also ignoring Belobog¡¯s frown. ¡°Not like she¡¯s the planner here, anyways,¡± Joe said, shaking off the imaginary dust from his shoulders. Belobog closed her eyes and breathed for several counts before opening them once more, with a grin upon her face. She clapped her hands. ¡°Alright folks!¡± she said, then called Bee over from where he was hanging up his gloves. ¡°Since it seems introductions have already been made, let¡¯s get to it. In less than a month, Baron Ore will be holding a contest to determine the best applicants to field. While it has yet to be officially announced, the grand prize will be a Grimoire.¡± At this point, Bee grunted, and Ay crowed. ¡°Way to think small there!¡± Ay said with a laugh. Belobog scoffed but kept going. Or rather, she attempted to. ¡°Naturally, it¡¯s our job to¨C¡± ¡°-what¡¯s the contest for?¡± Bee interrupted. Belobog rubbed her temples. Idly, I noted that the nubs were missing, though a hair-band still covered the spots from which they grew. ¡°Let¡¯s stay on topic, yeah?¡± I debated remaining silent, as I wanted to keep what goodwill I had with Belobog, but I also wanted to know what the contest was being held for. However, I decided I could always find out at a later date. It might be that Belobog lacked these details herself, or that they were currently irrelevant. Bee made a strained sound, before adding, ¡°Why not win it?¡± When he saw the looks of confusion around him, he elaborated, ¡°the contest. Win it.¡± Ay snorted a laugh, ¡°Because only you would think that trouncing some rubes is the same as stealing the prize.¡± ¡°It is,¡± Bee insisted. I could have sworn that I heard Belobog whisper under her breath, something similar to ¡°grant me strength.¡± But she then shook off the irritation and shot down Bee¡¯s suggestion. ¡°The contest won¡¯t be pit fighting,¡± Belobog said. ¡°You sure?¡± Bee asked, sounding surprised. ¡°Pretty sure, yeah.¡± ¡°Huh.¡± Bee rubbed the base of his horns, seemingly lost in thought from the sudden revelation. A few seconds passed, and it became clear that Bee would ask no further. ¡°Alright¡­¡± Belobog floundered before recomposing herself. ¡°Back from the top. We¡¯re going to snag the prize out from under Baron Ore.¡± ¡°Not that I care one way or another,¡± Ay said. ¡°But¡­ why bother?¡± Bee nodded and pointed at his sister, seemingly also wondering the same thing. It appeared that Belobog¡¯s team was not aligned; perhaps, she had been holding out on the rest of them; perhaps, she enjoyed lording over the rest by doling out bits and pieces of pertinent data. However, from watching Belobog¡¯s growing frustration, I decided that Belobog was very much not enjoying this, which meant she had held back pertinent information, such as her group¡¯s actual motive. It left me wondering if the siblings were also cat¡¯s paws, such as I. If so, perhaps I could exploit the dissension should Belobog grow to be a larger problem. ¡°I mean¡­¡± Ay explained. ¡°I don¡¯t need a grimoire, and my little brother¨C¡± Bee snorted in dissent. ¡°-definitely doesn¡¯t need one. Just seems like a lotta trouble for something we¡¯re not even gonna use.¡± I returned my attention fully to Belobog, watching her expressions for any signs that might betray her thoughts on the matter. Afterall, she had promised me that grimoire. But if this object was the prize that the entire crew worked towards, then how could Belobog rationalize her giving me the grimoire to the siblings. Unfortunately, I was not able to discern her thoughts on the matter, as Belobog dodged the issue neatly. ¡°You saying you don¡¯t want any of the rest of the loot we¡¯ll be grabbing?¡± Belobog asked sarcastically. ¡°Because the baron¡¯s safe¡¯s gonna be packed full of good stuff. Cee, at the least.¡± Belobog introduced a slight bit of slang and casual behavior into her mode of address, likely to mirror Ay and better manipulate her sympathies. ¡°How much Cee?¡± Ay asked, perking up slightly from her sprawl. Belobog scoffed and waggled her hand, ¡°Least a few thou, I¡¯m betting more.¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± Ay asked. ¡°Mhm,¡± Belobog nodded, humming in a lazy agreement. ¡°And that¡¯s not including what the client¡¯ll be payin¡¯ us on top.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t like it,¡± Bee grunted, causing Ay to once more deflate. ¡°We can get Cee anywhere. Job¡¯s too risky, not enough gain. Baron¡¯s Estate¡¯ll be guarded. Peacekeepers, Knights, Vigilants¡­¡± Bee continued listing off the agents of ¡®justice¡¯ that might take issue with our heist. As he went on, I think all of us were realizing the extent of risk involved with this job. Belobog must have realized we were losing motivation, as she quickly diverted. ¡°Don¡¯t even mention those kiddie-vigilants like they¡¯ll be a problem.¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t they?¡± Bee asked. ¡°I remember you making us break off a gig so we could dodge ¡®em.¡± Belobog groaned and rolled her eyes. ¡°That¡¯s different,¡± she said. ¡°Avoiding them¡¯s the same as dealin¡¯ with them. Least in my books.¡± Ay chose that time to cackle, ¡°You saying Bee can¡¯t punch all his problems away?¡± Rather than respond to Ay¡¯s jibe, Belobog focused solely upon Bee. ¡°Weren¡¯t you the one wanting to build a rep?¡± Belobog asked. ¡°Well, this will do it. Everyone¡¯ll know who we are after this.¡± ¡°We can get the rep without the heat,¡± Bee grumbled. ¡°Besides,¡± Belobog pointed out. ¡°The heat¡¯s most of the point. It¡¯s sabotaging Baron Ore, embarrassing him, and maybe delaying this contest. That¡¯s why we¡¯re getting paid. The rest is just a little bonus.¡± ¡°Still haven¡¯t met this client,¡± Bee said. ¡°And you¡¯re welcome for that,¡± Belobog replied, as though she was doing him a favor by acting as an intermediary. And depending on just who was funding this operation, she may have been correct. ¡°No other problems with us takin¡¯ the job?¡± she prompted. ¡°Because we¡¯ll be getting it done, regardless. Our client¡¯s not one to disappoint.¡± Bee grumbled, flared his nostrils, but made no overt signs of disagreement. Instead, he waved a meaty hand at Belobog as if to say he was conceding the point. Ay opened her mouth, likely to add another trite quibble to the mess, but Joe, Belobog, and Bee all shot her a glare at once, causing her to cackle and mime shutting her mouth. ¡°Good,¡± Belobog said. ¡°Then let¡¯s talk plans. This will be an infil op, which is where the new girl comes in. You¡¯ve all met Jackie, yeah? She¡¯s gonna be our in. The twins will be running diversions, if necessary, and¡¯ll help if something goes wrong on the inside. But, I think I don¡¯t need to tell you this, but I will for everyone else¡¯s sake. Something goes wrong on the inside, getting you out may be a challenge. Good chance you¡¯ll be on your own.¡± Rather than causing concern, I took her caution as a sign of honesty. Besides, after a moment of thought, I realized that I could easily stand on my own. And if worse came to worst¡­ I had several tricks that I had yet to really play. Thus, I responded with a slothful shrug. ¡°A distraction will likely be sufficient for my escape, should I be discovered,¡± I said. ¡°Confident much?¡± Ay asked. She may have had a point, as I had yet to hear the plan yet. But I remained assured of my talents regardless. In the worst case scenario, I could always drop my Guise and rely on Illusions to cover me. And if I was to go all out, then my false-arm would likely guarantee my physical safety. As though it read my mind, its tendrils tightened around my ribs and collarbone, and I felt at ease. I was growing used to its attempts at communication. As I was distracted by introspection, Belobog answered on my behalf. ¡°She¡¯s got reasons for it,¡± Belobog said. ¡°She¡¯s good. Real good. Maybe the best at what she does. Least that I¡¯ve seen.¡± ¡°Really?¡± Ay asked, brows furrowed as though she doubted the praise. ¡°Yep,¡± Belobog said. Surprisingly enough, it was Joe that explained further. ¡°Young miss Jackie here is an expert at stealth. She¡¯s taken several challenging jobs independently, and has impressed both myself and our client.¡± Belobog snapped her fingers and pointed at Joe. ¡°That¡¯s right, you would know that, huh?¡± I wondered why Belobog had said that. She and Joe exchanged knowing smirks, leaving me ill at ease. My well of confidence dried as I encountered these hidden currents of subterfuge. Where had that honesty gone? I wondered. ¡°It¡¯s her skin,¡± Ay said with a shrug. ¡°But¡­ don¡¯t they got their own psychic? Plus that dude with the bad vibes¨C¡± ¡°-Velvetcall?¡± ¡°-He the one giving of those vibes that scream ra¨C¡± Belobog cleared her throat to cut her off. ¡°Well, nothing for sure has come up,¡± Belobog said. ¡°At least not that I¡¯ve dug up, and I¡¯ve been looking around. A bit of blackmail would be pretty nice, yeah?¡± ¡°But, hey!¡± Belobog hurried. ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re planning it out, yeah? ¡®Sides, it just so happens there''s an upcoming gala. It¡¯ll be the perfect shot. In and out, boom.¡± She went on to make several nonsensical sounds, which ordinarily would be humorous, were it not that the onus of this job was falling to me. ¡°We were planning?¡± Joe asked, prompting Belobog to return to course. She flushed slightly, realizing she had gotten slightly carried off. ¡°Right,¡± she said with a nod. It was at this point that Belobog pulled a cheap wooden box out from under the center table, and opened it, revealing several cuts of cloth, what may have been a servant¡¯s uniform of some sort, clean cut, of good quality, featuring plenty of brass buttons, and dyed in the baron¡¯s colors. I ignored that in favor of the map and sketched blue prints she placed on top of the table. Several annotated numbers and lines crossed over the map, and I realized they were possible patrol times, based on a range of likelihoods. ¡°Is this accurate?¡± I asked, impressed by the level of detail. ¡°For sure,¡± Belobog said. ¡°Who do you take me for, some kinda hack?¡± ¡°No, of course not. I was merely surprised.¡± ¡°Cool stuff,¡± Ay said. ¡°Who¡¯d you bone to get it?¡± Belobog grimaced. ¡°Crude,¡± I said. ¡°Hey, girl¡¯s just asking for pointers,¡± Ay said with a smirk, referring to herself in the third person. For a second, I thought the rising tempers might lead to hostilities. ¡°Now, now,¡± Joe said, interrupting. ¡°We all have our strengths. Don¡¯t we, Ay?¡± Ay¡¯s smirk faltered, before reappearing just as quickly and twice as mischievous. ¡°For sure. Though like me, some of us got more than others,¡± she gave her own chest a squeeze and winked at both Belobog and myself. I tasted bile at the back of my throat. Just who had I climbed into bed with? I wondered. Belobog caught my eye and shook her head slightly. ¡°Ignore her,¡± she mouthed. From there, we went over plans, along with several contingencies. Once Ay and Bee controlled themselves, things proceeded quickly and smoothly. It was not long until we finished, and Belobog took it upon herself to show me around the loft. I was following her down the corridor lined with doors. Some of the doors showed signs of use and wear. One had notches carved into the top of the doorway threshold, where one large meohr likely frequently hit his horns. ¡°Are these your team¡¯s living quarters?¡± I asked. She opened one of the doors that seemed brand-new, though it had a dusty doorknob. When I saw inside the room, I noted that it was fairly spacious in regards to city boarding rooms. It came with a cot and a sitting desk. It even featured an artificed lamp, though there were window shutters on the upper portion of the exterior wall, which would allow natural light in should I need it. ¡°Yeah,¡± Belobog said, taking in my reaction to the space. ¡°Bet it¡¯s a good bit nicer than what you¡¯ve got going on right now.¡± ¡°It does appear that way, yes.¡± I could not help but compare this single occupancy room to my current shared room with two other girls back at Ma¡¯Ritz. Tiffany¡¯s cousin snored. And she had¡­ other nocturnal indiscretions. ¡°You know,¡± Belobog said. ¡°If it¡¯s that awful, you could always move in,¡± she joked. I shook my head. That would be too soon, too quick, and entirely too reliant upon a crew that I hardly knew. ¡°My current residence provides certain benefits that I am loath to part with,¡± I said. One thing I noticed was that the hallway we had walked down had been lined with ten doors, five to each side. If I had met the team in its entirety, then only half of these dormitories were occupied. That, and in combination the fact that their loft spanned the building and seemed quite large, left me with a question that I decided must be asked. ¡°Is the team in the process of recruiting?¡± I asked. She shrugged. ¡°Maybe. Depends a lot on our client.¡± As it was just her and myself, I decided to ask a few other questions, to help me gain a read on her. ¡°And this client. Are they the only one you currently have?¡± She waggled a hand in indecision but nodded her head slightly. ¡°Are you aware of their motive in sabotaging the baron?¡± She shrugged, ¡°Not exactly, but yeah, I¡¯ve got a few ideas.¡± I was unaware if this world had a word to express terrorism, however, upon thinking about the situation a bit more, I thought the term a poor match. Afterall, there ought to be no terror involved, at least not towards the populace. This was sabotage. But why would someone want to sabotage the baron? I could identify several possible reasons, but largely all of them were political. ¡°Exactly,¡± Belobog said, even though I had yet to speak. ¡°Goes without saying.¡± She tapped the side of her head, as though she needed to remind me. Physic, she seemed to be saying. ¡°Do you suspect that we are disposable assets?¡± I asked bluntly. It would do no good to dance around the issue, especially as she could directly determine my thought process. ¡°Pff, nah.¡± She made a broad wave to encompass the building around us. ¡°People don¡¯t spend so heavily on things they plan on tossing, yeah?¡± I remained doubtful. While this operation may have cost plenty of Chargers, unless we knew how miserly or how wealthy this so-called client was, would determine the validity of that assumption. Belobog rubbed her temples. ¡°You¡¯re killing me,¡± she complained. ¡°Can¡¯t you just take this for granted? We got a crib to land at, if shit goes sideways. Let¡¯s leave it at that.¡± I noticed that she knew better than to ask me to trust her. Although¨C ¡°You kinda have a backwards way to relationships, you know?¡± I frowned. ¡°Yeah, like, look at it this way. If we were gonna screw you, you¡¯re gonna get screwed. So, the way I see it. You¡¯re on our team already.¡± My frown deepened. I might not have been the most philanthropic sort, but her reasoning seemed¡­ bad? ¡°Ha! Gotch-ya!¡± she gloated, before giving my shoulder a playful jab. ¡°So relax and enjoy. You do your thing, I¡¯ll do mine, and I¡¯ll make sure it lands right side up.¡± I scoffed and shook my head. ¡°And you said my methodology towards relationships was backwards,¡± I complained. There was one thing I noticed during the span of our conversation, and that was that Belobog had entered the dormitory room behind me. When she shut the door, I turned towards her with an eyebrow raised. ¡°What? Don¡¯t give me that look. No offense, but I¡¯m not into¡­¡± she winced as she glanced towards my false-arm, which briefly turned to a grimace before she shook it off ¡°...that,¡± she finished. My false-arm was twitching. In the narrow confines of the room, I felt certain any confrontation would work out in my favor. Unless¡­ well, this lacked the feeling that traps typically had, but¨C ¡°Gods and spirits and swamp-baths!¡± Belobog swore. I had not heard that particular take on swearing previously. ¡°This isn¡¯t a trap. Here¨C¡± she tossed a sack my way. ¡°-try this on.¡± I snatched the bag and, without taking my eyes off Belobog, opened the sack. ¡°It¡¯s the uniform the servants¡¯ll be using at the party. Need to make sure it fits, yeah?¡± Then, under her breath, she complained, ¡°Most suspicious misanthrope ever¡­¡± she continued to complain. Absorption 2.5.3 A/N: The Blessings are no longer visible, their UI was subsumed by the Symbiote. In the word document, this was somewhat more apparent, as the font-color was a very light gray. However, when transferred to several sights, this font color choice was eliminated. Hence, the note here. In the past few weeks, the only major difference Jackie has seen was to Dancing and Athleticism. Technically, these improvements should have been numerically shown at the start of 2.5, however, most of those chapters were built around non-stat engagements. The deltas are instead shown here. ***** Athleticism I: 3/9 (+1) Courtly Dancing: Treachery: 4/9 (+2) Flexibility: 6/9 (+1) Symbiotic Parasite (aka false-arm) 4 Tendrils, approximately 1.5 yards in length, unspooled. Talents:
  • Athleticism I (3/9) (+1):
    • Climbing I (5/9)
      • Featherlight I (4/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
    • Gymnastics (4/9)
  • Stealth I (8/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (4/9)
      • Area Coverage (6/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver I (3/9)
    • Evasion I (2/9)
      • Impending Sense (4/9)
    • Lucky Break I (1/9)
      • Chance Encounter (2/9)
  • Courtly Dancing: Treachery (4/9) (+2)
    • Flexibility (6/9) (+1)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (8/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (4/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
We only had to duck aside twice to avoid traffic. Given that we traveled with two Meohr in our group, our presence would have been noteworthy, despite the fact that we had yet to break any laws yet. The subterranean utility tunnels beneath the hill known as Baron¡¯s Estate were public, at least so far as we had traveled thus far. As we traveled, Belobog led the way, using her powers of detection to alert us to any signs of trouble. The tunnels were wide enough for the twins to walk abreast, though they did so at the rear. It left my scalp itching, leaving my back open and unguarded. However, if I could not trust them to guard my back now, then I could hardly rely on them later, when it mattered. Although, I had yet to see what the twins could do, and they were large enough, that should they trip and stumble, that their crashing into me would hurt. Hypothetically. Suddenly, I felt a bit more nervous than I had already been, though I comforted myself that the floor of the tunnel was regular enough that our footing ought to have been guaranteed. Would their hooves find better purchase or worse? I wondered. Ay had already bruised the back of my heel with her carelessness, although it was not as though they could see where they stepped. No torches had been lit, though natural lighting was provided by infrequent vents to the outside; the light that filtered through came tinted in hues of green, from the vegetation used to conceal these unsightly fixtures. At least, the tunnels had been poorly lit, until we came around a corner and found several Peacekeepers lounging in front of a gate. It was a checkpoint, one of the two that we had accounted for. Afterall, one could not simply waltz their way through Baron¡¯s Hill using the utility tunnels. In an ideal world, I would have infiltrated the force of additional servants that Baron Ore employed with the party, and I would have traveled in with them. Especially since it was these servants that I would be using as a cover. But, it would have been impossible for me to slip in with this cadre of servants before-hand. They were apparently all one group of indentured slaves, pruned for their beauty, etiquette, and subservience. They could almost be considered as a contracting group of caterers, at least this world¡¯s equivalent. However, as they were tight-knit, they would have quickly noticed an outsider masquerading among them. Hence, I was now traveling towards Baron Ore¡¯s manor along with Belobog¡¯s crew and approaching the first checkpoint. The Peacekeepers of course had seen us during our approach, even if we were still largely obscured by the poor lighting. However, this was nothing beyond the usual for them; they continued about entertaining themselves, loudly talking amongst themselves about crude topics. I did not allow myself to falter in step, though I was sure to quickly scan each of these men standing guard, for I had some detrimental history with the Peacekeepers. However, I recognized none of them, and I breathed a small sigh of relief at that. Of course, the fact that I failed to recognize them was no surety that they would fail to recognize me. My hair was quite distinctive, afterall. Though this risk was largely negated by our planned contingencies. The previous night, while going over possible plans, several alternatives had been proposed to ameliorate the problem of checkpoints. Bee, of course, had offered to fight them, which would lead to a brutal and noisy slaughter, at least according to the others who knew him. Ay had counter-offered with a distraction of her own, but while the provided details of such a distraction had been lacking, apparently Belobog and Bee knew her well enough to be quite disturbed. I made no suggestions myself. Of course, I could have snuck past. Or, I could have dropped my Guise and relied upon Illusions alone. But¡­ none of the crew knew I wore a Guise. Nor did they know my full capabilities. As they lacked my trust, they lacked my confidence. Belobog might have known more than she let on, but she said nothing revealing, either as a favor, or because she also preferred to keep assets in her back pocket. In the end, we went with Belobog¡¯s original proposal, as she likely had known beforehand. As we approached the Peacekeepers, I began to have second thoughts regarding the necessity of any plan. The Peacekeepers idled within strong light that cast glaring shadows and which ruined their night-eye and offered ample opportunities for stealth. With their loud discourse, they would be provided no opportunity to detect the padding footsteps of any would-be thief. And of course, it was telling that I could smell the alcohol when we were still quite a distance off. This left me with no doubt. I could have snuck past them, with none the wiser. Locked gate or not. But, even if I could have gotten past them, it would be difficult to sneak the two Meohr in. It was while I regarded these Peacekeepers with much derision that Belobog went about her task. She had paused, frowning in concentration. Her temples glowed beneath her headband, largely filtering out the light emanating, though I could still make out a slight greenish hue to it. At the risk to Belobog¡¯s concentration, Ay snickered and interjected, ¡°Yo, B,¡± she said. ¡°You having fun?¡± I winced at the sudden volume from less than a step away. Fortunately, Belobog was not caught by surprise; at least she avoided startling and revealing herself mid-task. She finished several seconds later, and at that point answered Ay. Notably, Belobog grimaced. ¡°You say that,¡± Belobog griped. ¡°But after dipping in there I feel like I need a bath, yeah?¡± ¡°That fun, huh?¡± Ay asked. ¡°Anything¡­ y¡¯know¡­¡± she eyed her brother in amusement as she emphasized the final word, ¡°kinky.¡± Bee snorted in an unamused fashion. Meanwhile, Belobog largely brushed the question off, although I noticed a slight shudder before she did so. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Belobog said, giving her head a slight shake, before thinking better of it, and then adding, ¡°If you¡¯re not careful, I¡¯ll show you what I saw later.¡± ¡°Ha!¡± Ay crowed. ¡°You keep threatening me with a good time¨C¡± She likely would have continued, but her brother cut her off when he placed a dinner-plate sized hand on the back of her neck and squeezed, if ever so slightly. ¡°Not on the job,¡± he said. ¡°Keep it for later.¡± Even then, Ay still found it within herself to cackle, although she did refrain from further discussion. Belobog scoffed and resumed her pace forward, leading us in a brisk fashion towards the checkpoint where the Peacekeepers awaited; their discussion had ceased at some point during Belobog¡¯s work. As we came near, we noticed that they were all staring with blank faces and slack eyes. Belobog came right up before them and snapped a finger. ¡°Henry!¡± she called sharply. ¡°The gate.¡± One of the Peacekeepers, presumably named Henry, startled. ¡°Sure thing, sir,¡± the Peacekeeper said. ¡°Anything you wanna tell us?¡± Ay asked Belobog, likely having noticed the misgendered statement. Of course, Belobog ignored this and focused on the gate. Ay shrugged and humored herself by waving her hand before one of the Peacekeeper¡¯s faces. Their slackjaw stare remained unaffected. Meanwhile, the Peacekeeper named Henry ducked inside the alcove carved into the wall of the tunnel and activated a mechanism of some kind, as the gate began rolling to the side. ¡°Finally,¡± Belobog said, a note of irritation audible within her voice. She snapped her fingers at the rest of us. ¡°Hurry up, would you?¡± she said. ¡°If I have to reapply the compulsion because you dawdled about, your cut will be docked.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Ay asked, somewhat shocked by the threat, before hurrying to catch up and pass through the opening gate. It was after we had all made it through that I felt emboldened enough to comment. ¡°We made it past easier than I expected,¡± I said. I thought I did a fair enough job concealing how disturbed I felt at watching Belobog invade the sanctity of that Peacekeeper¡¯s mind. Although, I comforted myself in that she had done so to him, for us, and not to me, for her. However, her revealing that capability seemed almost a warning against betraying her. I wondered if that was intentional. I almost directly inquired. ¡°Don¡¯t get used to it,¡± Belobog muttered. ¡°Direct manipulation takes a lot outta me. Already I¡¯m starting to feel it,¡± she said, rubbing her temples for emphasis. ¡°Maybe I have two or three more of those in me before I¡¯m out.¡± ¡°As in, you¡¯ll depart?¡± ¡°As in, passed out,¡± Ay corrected. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Belobog hesitantly agreed. ¡°What she said.¡± I decided to politely press for additional details. The more I knew of her capabilities, the greater my comfort remaining in the same city as her. ¡°I also noticed that you used that man¡¯s name?¡± ¡°Yep,¡± she said, not elaborating further. I pushed slightly more forcefully. ¡°And this name,¡± I said. ¡°Did you already know this, or was it revealed to you?¡± ¡°Blergh. Names are pretty easy. It¡¯s at the surface of a person¡¯s identity.¡± ¡°And the reason he called you sir?¡± I asked. Belobog presented as female, and left no doubt in regards to her gender, both in bearing, in body, and in vocal inflections. ¡°It¡¯s easier to tie commands to something they remember. That way I¡¯m connecting two bits, rather than creating a whole new bit from scratch. Easier on the person too. Less¡­¡± she made a scrambling motion. ¡°Indeed,¡± I said. Internally, my level of discomfort only grew, and a part of me regretted requesting additional details. I had not realized she could ruin a person¡¯s mind in such a way, though it made sense, as she had already shown she could directly influence a person¡¯s thoughts and memories. ¡°Is it¡­ easy to do so? Scramble a person¡¯s thoughts, I mean.¡± ¡°Why¡­ worried?¡± Belobog asked, shooting me a grin over her shoulder as she led the way. ¡°Perhaps so,¡± I admitted freely. An answer came from the stoic Meohr behind me. I should not have been surprised, as the topic neighbored his interests, if only tangentially. ¡°No reason to be,¡± Bee said. ¡°She can¡¯t do it in combat,¡± Bee said, more of a grunt. ¡°How so?¡± ¡°Takes too long,¡± he further elaborated, although using as few words as possible. Belobog snorted. ¡°Sure, if a person sees it coming. But like you just saw, that isn¡¯t the case most of the time.¡± ¡°Unless they get a drop on you,¡± Ay added, somewhat seriously. Despite the fact she was a meohr, and much larger than a human by default, she carried herself with the agility of a rogue, while fondling a short-sword which she wore like a dagger. ¡°Course you said that,¡± Belobog said. Personally, I found it curious that such a large person as Ay could have been a practitioner of stealth. There must have been a Talent or Magic involved. No other means would make sense. It was as I wondered at the physics of Ay engaging in stealth that we reached another checkpoint where Belobog performed the same trick as she had with the previous checkpoint. After that, we were traveling under the inner ring of the hill called Baron¡¯s Estate. It was when we were in the final approach to the actual baron¡¯s estate that the twins peeled off, and Belobog patted my shoulder. ¡°You got this?¡± Belobog asked me. ¡°Indeed,¡± I said, before adding with some amusement. ¡°It would be a poor time to back out, regardless.¡± She scoffed in an aborted laugh. ¡°Yeah, you said it,¡± she said. ¡°Don¡¯t forget to get changed first. Remember the rest of the plan?¡± ¡°Naturally,¡± I said. ¡°This would not be my first,¡± I said. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Belobog trailed off. ¡°I would love to pick your brain sometime about where you¡¯ve been. Seem to have a lotta skills, yeah?¡± I frowned when she mentioned picking my brain, as she had the tools to do so literally and without consent. She chuckled when she saw my face. ¡°Not like that,¡± she grinned. ¡°You¡¯re on my crew now, which makes us friend-adjacent.¡± She sounded like she would have used ¡®friend¡¯ as a standalone term, before she remembered that I would never fall for such a simple manipulation. ¡°You don¡¯t mess around with friends like that, yeah?¡± she clarified, as though I were some dullard. I sighed. ¡°I lack the context to know,¡± I said dryly. ¡°However, you said friend-adjacent, not friend.¡± She blew air from her lips in an unflattering manner. ¡°Same thing. Anyways, I gotta get to my station, make sure the twins behave. You sure you¡¯re good?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I said, already finding an out of the way branching tunnel to change into the caterer¡¯s uniform. ¡°I am good.¡± ¡°Golden,¡± Belobog said, departing and disappearing in the shadows herself. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. From there, I was on my own. The final checkpoint was manned by the Baron¡¯s own force, an elite cadre of Peacekeepers. In contrast to the previous two checkpoints, at this one the Peacekeepers maintained professional silence. One remained within the gate-house itself, while the other two kept rifle-like arcbows, artiificed guns, pointing downward at the ready. The least professional person here in appearance here was actually a clerk of some nature who sat behind a table pushed to the side of the enlarged passageway. I approached in my uniform, my false identification at the ready. Quickly I scanned the guards¡¯ faces. None of them were recognizable, which would likely mean they would fail to recognize me. And with the setting changed, while possibly an unsafe bet, usually increases the difficulty of recognition. ¡°Another one?¡± the clerk asked as I came near. ¡°I had thought you had all arrived together when setting up.¡± I found it somewhat surprising that the clerk appeared to be the one in charge of admission, and not the professional looking guards. However, this was where a difficulty occurred in my credentials, my falsified story, so to speak. As the catering workforce was external to the baron¡¯s live-in servants, they would not recognize all of them by face. However, the other catering servants would. Thus, I was forced to arrive separately. We had considered this, and I had an excuse at the ready. ¡°I was forced to oversee external preparations,¡± I falsely explained. ¡°Now that they are done, they are to be arriving later. But seeing as my labors there had finished, I was sent to ensure all remained ready here. And that my peers¡¯ decorum remained high.¡± ¡°Eloquent, at the very least,¡± the clerk said, before frowning. ¡°But why would you be sent separately?¡± ¡°Do you mean to inquire regarding the reason I was sent without that which I had been delayed to prepare?¡± I asked with the slightest smirk. The clerk nodded, unknowingly falling to my trap. ¡°It would be unfitting for me to question those above my station,¡± I said with seriousness. And as I referred to myself as a servant, and as this clerk was likely one of some sort, that would mean he and I were peers of a sort, which would mean that ¡®my station¡¯ also referred to ¡®his station¡¯ and that further questioning these falsified orders would risk upset of etiquette. Perhaps Master Plum¡¯s lessons have been useful, afterall. ¡°...right,¡± the clerk said, coughing and then straightening his doublet behind the table. ¡°Well, on you go. We won¡¯t hold you.¡± ¡°My thanks,¡± I said with a slight bow, before walking with confidence through the open gate, ignoring the eyes of the Peacekeepers as though they were absent. From there, I progressed inwards. Up the stairs I went. They emptied onto a garden courtyard towards the back of Baron Ore¡¯s manor. It was here that several servants in the baron¡¯s livery were maintaining the garden, with one cleaning windows, another tending towards the lamps, and a third raking gravel and sweeping an already clean stone floor. While all of them glanced my way, it was the one who was sweeping that found me first. ¡°Running a bit late?¡± the sweeper asked. I nodded, not needing to vocalize further. He chuckled ruefully and shook his head. ¡°How you didn¡¯t get the lash for it.¡± I may have made an unpleasant face, as the man corrected his tone and avoided making further small-talk. However, I now felt compelled to provide something of a reason, in fitting with my current guise. Thus, I explained, ¡°The task which delayed me was by design and intent. However, I do require your assistance,¡± I said, requesting his input in an intentional manner. Asking for help switched the narrative, making it less likely for the servant to raise any sort of alarm. ¡°Oh?¡± he asked, interested in falling into the narrative, likely without realizing he was doing so. ¡°Would you perchance be aware of my peer¡¯s location?¡± I asked, referring to the other catering servants. ¡°Same place as always,¡± they answered in a less than helpful manner, though not that I could inform him of that. ¡°Ah.¡± I said, nodding knowingly, though internally I was only vaguely aware of where they likely were, guessing the kitchens and entertainment hall. ¡°My thanks. I will be off then.¡± They nodded. But as I went to move past them into the main manor, he clicked his tongue to get my attention, then nodded his head towards a side wall. ¡°If you got here with the rest, then that was before guests started arriving. Might wanna use the side passage?¡± ¡°Would these guests not be here entirely too early for the engagement?¡± I asked, not faking my surprise. ¡°Yeah, which is the problem.¡± His flat tone made this sound as though it was common knowledge. In hindsight, it was likely that the servants took such things into account as they performed their duties. ¡°The guests¡¯re bored.¡± With the look he gave me, he felt that what he implied was common sense. Which meant I could not challenge him for additional details. So, without completely understanding why, I followed his advice, and I made a detour towards the side passage with which he had directed. Once I was inside, I marveled at the decor. Especially as I was in the less important side passages. The halls carpeted, lined with tapestries and awards, with ceremonial weapons mixed in. Thankfully I had memorized the blueprints, otherwise I may have found myself lost in the sprawling tangle of hallways and gaudily gilded walls and doorways. Unfortunately, my memory may have been slightly lacking, as I found myself somewhat turned around. It was at this point that I heard a voice that I would have rather not. It was smooth, alluring, and masculine. Instantly, I knew who this was, and my veins felt frozen with this recognition. Of all the passageways that I had to travel, it just had to be this one. For the voice belonged to none other than Velvetcall, the Vigilant with the power of compulsion. Chance Encounter: 3/9 (+1) If there was one saving grace to this situation, it was that he currently resided within a sideroom. This meant I could in theory bypass him, should I be quick enough. However, bizarrely enough, the door to this room had been left open. The reason this came as bizarre was the scandalous nature of the occupants¡¯ current activities. The sounds, the groan, and the rhythmic vibrations traveling the floor left little to the imagination. I felt ill. This was not something I wished to be exposed to. Rather than risk walking past the open doorway, I turned about and made to immediately backtrack and retreat. But, my luck must have turned. For it was at this point that I found myself a mere fifteen feet away from another Vigilant, although I was not familiar with them and I failed to recognize their costume. They were female, but not Guesswork. It seemed that she had been approaching while I had remained frozen. Naturally, my sudden turnabout would have raised her eyebrow. And as she ran her eyes over me, her eyebrow was indeed raised. ¡°Oh? A servant? Here?¡± she asked, smirking in what felt like a condescending and nasty manner. ¡°And one who¡¯s offended by her betters, perhaps?¡± ¡°My apologies, my Lady,¡± I said, bowing my head. I was unsure if I used the correct mode of address, but guessing too high was better than too low. ¡°Words do little to soothe my pride,¡± she said, fanning herself and making an awkward scene. My scalp began to sweat from the tension, although I allowed naught to affect my expression. At that point, Velvetcall spoke outwards towards us, although he still continued his activities. ¡°I hear your voice?¡± Velvetcall called out, the rhythmic motions and grunts not abating while speaking, though his voice may have been slightly strained. ¡°What¡¯s keeping you, Jess?¡± ¡°Oh, you know. Found a servant here. She was just leaving.¡± ¡°Oh? How¡¯s she look?¡± he asked. ¡°Scale of one to ten.¡± Revulsive. Briefly, I revisited my desire to avoid needless slaughter and bloodshed. Certainly, some deserved horrific fates. She considered me as though I were a piece of meat. She tapped her chin. ¡°A solid eight. Possibly broaching the nine, depending on how she¡¯s dressed.¡± ¡°Hm. Well, more the merrier. Bring her in?¡± ¡°Ah. Well, I was hoping I could find my needs fulfilled first,¡± she said, giving me a sadistic and hungry look that left me feeling nauseous. ¡°I guess you¡¯re the one that found her so it¡¯s only fair you go first. Make sure not to spoil the face though before my turn. You know I¡¯m not into that sort.¡± I needed to get out of this. ¡°Oh, I know how squeamish you can be,¡± she said while giving a despotic grin. I needed to get of of this, immediately. ¡°My apologies,¡± I cut in. ¡°Many apologies,¡± I said frantically. ¡°But my duties demand immediate attention¨C¡± She held a hand as though to stop my pointless drivel. ¡°As if a servant¡¯s duties take priority,¡± she scoffed. ¡°Were I a less understanding woman¨C¡± she was a teenager at best ¡°-I might punish you for such insolence. However, I would be loath to ruin such a pretty face. At least before¡­¡± she licked her chops. I wondered how she would behave if I vomited across her costume dress. I had allowed my disgust to cloud my perception, and things grew just slightly hazy. It was this for which I accounted for yet another woman coming upon us prior to me realizing their presence. ¡°Is this how Her Highness¡¯s Vigilants behave?¡± a stern woman¡¯s voice interrupted whatever plans this horrible girl had been laying. Chance Encounter: 4/9 (+1) The girl flinched, turned quickly and gave a curtsy. ¡°Lady Trigg! I did not expect you here, otherwise¨C¡± ¡°-you would have avoided embarrassing yourself, yes, I am aware.¡± It was Lady Trigg¡¯s voice that had finally caused a change in Velvetcall¡¯s activities. But rather than terminating prematurely, the door to the room in which he was fornicating gently shut, granting some modicum of privacy, although none here could have been fooled by the pretense. However, his ploy seemed to have worked sufficiently, especially as Lady Trigg¡¯s attention had landed solely upon the girl. She buckled under the weight and stammered to excuse herself before turning and fleeing from the stern woman. I found myself at a loss for words as well. I had not forgotten Lady Trigg, nor the horrific time I had spent as Princess Marissa¡¯s guest, before I had fled the Wastes, before I had created my Guise. After giving me a dismissive glance, Lady Trigg scoffed. ¡°Do not expect me to save your chastity a second time girl. Go about those duties that you claimed.¡± I found myself stammering as well, curtsying, silently thanking Master Plum for the forced etiquette practice, and I fled Lady Trigg¡¯s presence. Soon, I found my bearings near the outskirts of the reception hall. It was here that the actual catering servants scurried about, and it was here that I was forced to dodge them the best that I could. The Baron¡¯s household might not recognize me as an imposter, but the caterers, I feared, would. With my skills in stealth, I found it easier than anticipated to dodge direct line of sight. There was always some obstruction I could find to track between them and I, and I had an almost sixth sense for their range of attention, if not their line of sight. I knew when to move, and when to blend in with the wallpaper, so to speak. Actually finding the baron¡¯s personal wing was both easier and more difficult than I expected. I knew roughly where it was, up on the second floor of the Chasm facing side of the manor, but what I had apparently missed was that the floor below this was occupied by several of his ¡®elite¡¯ Peacekeepers. I had one close call where I just avoided a man with heavy footsteps coming from down a hallway around a corner. Thankfully his footsteps had given him away, but I could not always be so fortunate, and I would be a fool to rely upon fortune to begin with. The man himself might have been a captain of the Peacekeepers, or at least one of the ranking officers. He had a fine enough uniform to fit in with the rest of the party at least. But otherwise, I climbed the stairwell and found myself in the baron¡¯s living wing. He shared the floor with his wife and son, along with several maids which I suspected may have been concubines. Fortunately, he and his family were otherwise diverted by the festivities, and the servants themselves had made themselves scarce in the meantime. I found the door to his office and picked the lock within a couple dozen seconds. Without so much as a second glance, I slipped in and shut the door behind me, relocking it as well, in the event that someone decided to check. The chamber I found myself in was a receiving room, with chairs and idle reading material. Other than ostentatious decorations, not much else was worth stealing here. There was a secretaries desk, which might have had potential blackmail material, but this as well was a lesser target. Instead, I ignored all of this and found the door to the baron¡¯s actual office, where he would sit and presumably perform whatever labors a man of his status pretended to perform. Of course, the door was locked. And of course, it quickly gave way, although this lock featured a handful more pins than the last, and it required a full minute to disarm. But then, at last, I was in. I entered where he kept his desk, his bookshelf of expensive vanity tomes, and at least several lockboxes of jewels and raw Spirit Stones, as Belobog called the uncut glowing bits that filled out Chargers. However, even these, as valuable as they were, were not my primary target. No, that was reserved towards the Grimoire, which was orders of magnitude more valuable and priceless. It was also the major incentive that Baron Ore planned to use when encouraging mercenaries to fight and potentially die in his alleged upcoming contest. It was only natural that such a valuable and irreplaceable artifact would be kept hidden and sealed. It was also only natural that a nosy psychic such as Belobog would have discovered this, along with the code to unlock the safe. With this knowledge pre-supplied, I already knew where to go and where to look. I went to the desk and crouched beneath it, pulling aside a square of carpet. A latch door. I lifted it, revealing a safe. It was a combination lock, which Belobog had somehow given me. I assume she had gotten near enough to the baron at some point, or that she had a plant on his staff. The door to the safe was not pointing upwards, meaning that it would be all but impossible to access the sunken safe, let alone the lock itself. I lacked time to sufficiently investigate this, but it seemed clear that something was missing. The safe had to be accessible somehow, I could not imagine the baron would lack a method of opening it. And considering that the safe¡¯s door would swing into the wall of the pit in which it rested, there must have been a method to extract or lift the safe itself. A quick glance at the top of the safe revealed no handles, and the gap between the walls of the pit and the safe itself were barely wide enough to slip a finger through. I felt the floor shudder ever so slightly as somebody walked through the hallway. The shudder was faint, but coming nearer. I continued investigating, as the quicker I figured this safe out the quicker I could make my escape. And besides, whoever it was that I heard, this person was merely traveling the hallway, although their gait was heavy and confident. I ducked out from beneath the desk and reframed my point of view. If I were the baron, then I would be resting on a plush chair, resting confident in my secured treasures beneath my feet. I sat myself in the chair, looking over the office as he would likely see it. While it would likely be intelligent to remove any ability to access his treasures altogether, until they were required for whatever reason, I knew that this was not how people thought, especially not those suffering avarice. No, they typically enjoyed observing, counting, and rubbing their greasy fat fingers across their priceless artifacts. There was also typically some paranoia as well, which could only be abated with confirmation that the treasure remained in their possession. All of which necessitated a means of accessing the safe. So, as I sat in the baron¡¯s chair, I looked for something within arms reach. I felt across the seams of drawers and then under the desk itself. There was a slight gap in the planking, which was noticeable given its polished nature. I followed the gap until I arrived at one of the drawer interiors. Of course, this drawer was locked. Fortunately, this lock was accessible, and the sort that was easily picked. Less than a minute later, I had the drawer open. The loose Chargers slipped into an interior pocket, along with several opened and partially resealed letters that most have been of import. Other than those slight gains, after exposing the bottom panel, I found that there was another seam where there should not have been. I felt around, tapped the panel, and noted the hollow sound. I could have broken through the false panel, but that would make far too much sound. Besides, such brute methods were unrequired, especially as I could see a spot on the bottom panel where the wood¡¯s polish had been marred and worn, evidence of skin-oils contacting the wood at a high frequency. I pushed down on the same spot. There was a pop, and half of the panel lifted up. This exposed a flat cavity along the bottom of the drawer, along with a horizontal lever that laid plush to the bottom. A fairly elaborate system, I noted. And one that seemed largely ineffective as well. It seemed almost foolishly simple. But then again, the baron was rumored to be of middling intelligence. However, he ought to have hired a competent specialist to protect his most treasured goods. All of this failed to matter however, as when I toggled the lever, the safe lifted from its resting pit, the entire thing on an elevating platform. Within ten seconds, the safe had been fully exposed, filling most of the cavity beneath the desk where a person¡¯s legs would normally go. From there, I got to business. The entire process from discovering the safe to now had taken less than five minutes, and I felt confident that time enough remained to pick the lock apart; especially as Belobog had apparently stolen the code. Checking the door of the safe, I found a spinning style tumbler with indents dividing into fourths, and each fourth into fifths. Notably, and to my irritation, there were no numbers labeling the notches. That surprised me. I would have thought the baron far too slothful to rely upon muscle memory when unlocking the safe. However, Belobog had still given me a code, a series of six digits, which would necessitate that the tumbler have a starting position. Without touching the tumbler itself, I examined all sides of it, until I found a slightly deeper notch, which I presumed marked the starting position, or zero. Gently, I twisted the tumbler, feeling the micro-clicks as the mechanism worked its way across the springs. When the starting position lined up with the only existing marker on the surrounding door, I begun inserting the code, although I was forced to perform some math on the fly. The first position was easy. To insert five, I twisted the tumbler clockwise for that same number of micro-clicks, until I felt a bit of pressure resisting the final motion. The bit of pressure was expected, as a spring was being compressed and a pin lifted until sliding into a holding position. The second position was a bit different. Eighteen. As I had already reached five, were I to continue spinning clockwise, I would only require another twelve positions. However, this style of tumbler required me to reverse directions, spinning counter clockwise, until arriving at the eighteenth position. This meant I was forced to add five to eighteen and then subtract from the total number of notches, which in this case was eighty. I spun counterclockwise fifty-seven times, although I encountered the slight pressure increase a notch earlier than I would have guessed. This in itself was not too unusual, as typically these sorts of tumblers had some inexactness to them. From there, I went clockwise, then counter, and so on, until finally, I approached the last position, which I anticipated to provide a satisfying release to the lock. But as I hit the final position, the resistance never happened. I continued twisting slowly, and it was another three notches later, that I hit the expected resistance. Only this time, it felt heavier than it ought. Still, I had little recourse but to commit, unless I wished to brute force my entry into the safe. Thus, I twisted, overcoming the hitch in resistance. It clicked. The door mechanism thunked, but remained shut and locked. A slight crackling came from the door. Internally, I swore. That was not what a lock should ever sound like. This entire setup had seemed bizarre and laissez-faire, so I should have known that there would have been one last protection, and I should have known that the baron could afford a hidden thing.I was not even sure what that thing was, except that it likely was artificed, but other possibilities existed in this world. The crackling finished within seconds, before I had even finished my thoughts, and the sound concluded with a faint pop and then a silver chime. I smelled a hint of ozone. Somewhere on the floor below, I heard a loud voice, almost a bark, but not quite. Then, I felt the footsteps moving quickly, at first away and travelling fainter, but soon climbing and coming closer. It had been a trap. The safe remained locked and shut. Mothersworn Belobog! I swore internally. Of course the baron would have a countermeasure against psychics. She had probably been fed a fake code without her even realizing it, and with her ego, she would have never anticipated the possibility that she had been tricked. Though this was an elaborate trap, if that was what it was. No, I found it more likely that the baron had several sets of codes, only one of which actually worked, and all the rest triggering the alarm. Not that this revelation would do me any good, for an alarm had been raised, the Vigilants were in attendance, the Knights as well, and the Peacekeepers that were actually competent occupied the space beneath my feet. All this, and the safe still remained locked. My false-arm, my symbiote, coiled and twitched, responding to my sudden stress. Symbiotic Parasite (aka false-arm) 4 Tendrils, approximately 1.5 yards in length, unspooled. Talents:
  • Athleticism I (3/9):
    • Climbing I (5/9)
      • Featherlight I (4/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
    • Gymnastics (4/9)
  • Stealth I (8/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (4/9)
      • Area Coverage (6/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
  • Eschiver I (3/9)
    • Evasion I (2/9)
      • Impending Sense (4/9)
    • Lucky Break I (1/9)
      • Chance Encounter (4/9) (+2)
  • Courtly Dancing: Treachery (4/9)
    • Flexibility (6/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (5/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune (8/9)
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (4/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.5.4 Not that this revelation would do me any good, for an alarm had been raised, the Vigilants were in attendance, the Knights as well, and the Peacekeepers that were actually competent occupied the space beneath my feet. All this, and the safe still remained locked. My false-arm, my symbiote, coiled and twitched, responding to my sudden stress¡­ ¡°-there¡¯s an intruder!¡± a man¡¯s shout echoed through the hallway, through the outer office, and into the room where I was currently and unfortunately residing. A rattling came as they tried the door handle from the hall into the outer office. ¡°-door¡¯s locked,¡± a man said in a lower voice. It was a bit muddled, but one of the Peacekeepers added, ¡°sure it¡¯s not a false alarm or¨C¡± A sharp smack interrupted the complaint. ¡°Fool!¡± The first man scolded the second. ¡°-means nothing! The inner alarm was tripped¨C¡± ¡°-urgh, must you?¡± The second said, his voice distorted as though he were rubbing his cheek. Then came a third voice, still male, likely another Peacekeeper. ¡°-an alarm from the safe, you think?¡± A hissed string of words that might have been swearing, but too inaudible for my comprehension. ¡°-just unlock the door already!¡± shouted the first. ¡°Would, if we could¡­¡± ¡°Just waiting on the key.¡± ¡°No!¡± the first, and seemingly the most senior of them uttered. ¡°There¡¯s no time! Step aside. Now.¡± ¡°What¡­ are you¡­ No!¡± One of them protested. Not that the protestations did any good. ¡°Yes!¡± the first shouted, soon followed by a thudding slam. The office shook slightly, but the lack of footsteps running across the outer office, and the lack of a crash of debris striking the floor left me doubting their success in kicking the door down. From the Peacekeepers, I began to hope that they would give up and decide the alarm to be false. I knew this was overly optimistic and overall a foolish hope, but I found myself hoping all the same. And it seemed that at least one of the Peacekeepers seemed to doubt the necessity of such extreme actions. ¡°If this is a hoax that¡¯s coming out of your hide¨C¡± the second voice lectured the first, even though the second had been struck by the first for his original complaints. ¡°Enough!¡± Their more action oriented comrade protested. ¡°Help me kick this godslickin door¨C¡± My previous hopes had been folly. Realization sunk in and my nerves rose, unbidden, unwelcome, unhelpful, as I experienced an untoward moment of panic. It was then that my derailing train of thought was interrupted and reset, when my false-arm twitched its tendrils within my ribs, almost seeming to want to remind me to remain grounded and present within the moment. This led to me taking a calming breath. Not all was lost, I considered. For if I played my cards correctly, things would still work out. But for this to be the case, I needed every action to be a deliberate choice that made the fullest use of my dwindling time. First, a decision to make: Did I try taking the safe? No, it weighed over a hundred pounds, far too heavy to escape with. I needed speed and agility, not cumbersome momentum. But did that mean abandoning the objective? I had begun to consider, when another thud from the outer door, the crackling of wooden paneling began to tear from the door jam. If I had only just twenty minutes prior to the alarm triggering, I could have picked the tumbler by tracking the rise and fall of pressure as the pins rolled within the mechanism. But thinking these could-have-beens was folly. I castigated myself. What mattered if I could do so in tens of minutes, when I only had tens of seconds with which to work? A matter of ego to satisfy my professional pride, I decided. Foolish, in another word, especially as I had no way to pick the lock as I normally would have. I was forced to consider the facts. Belobog¡¯s code had failed, which meant I could only rely upon the less oft used tools in my kit, that was unless I chose to abandon my primary objective altogether. Better a successful escape with empty hands than no escape at all. And should I make a production of my escape, surely the baron would face embarrassment, and that had been a secondary, possibly even primary objective, depending on how the client looked at it. But I could not tell this for certain. And more importantly, regardless of the client, I had been promised the Grimoire which still resided within the safe, at least, my intel had stated as such. What then, I wondered, could I use to breach the safe¡­ As quickly as thoughts ran, I considered my options. I might have been able to generate a thin and sturdy tangible illusion with which I could either pry or pick the door apart. However, to use such illusions, my Guise would need to drop: it would take time to revert back to my less human form, potentially minutes. I likely had a minute at best to vacate the office, which meant I had tens of seconds to either breach the safe or cut my losses. But even if I would not have my illusions by the time I had left the office, they would still prove useful later on in my escape. And it would be better for any sharp-eyed officers to avoid seeing the face of my Guise laid bare. Thus, perhaps in a poorly planned manner, I began dropping the Guise. The changes began reverting, washing over me in a hot and itchy sensation. The quickly progressing minute differences to bone, musculature, and ligament caused my posture to begin altering almost immediately. My nose and chin began lengthening; fur began sprouting in a disgusting fashion. Ten seconds were lost as I overcame the feelings of revulsion. In hindsight, I ought to have dropped my Guise prior to attempting the safe. But then again, had I known this would occur, I would have planned my evening differently. Guise of the Kitsune: 9/9 (+1) -> Guise of the Kitsune I: 1/9
  • Malleable Form: 1/9
A familiar burning traveled down my right arm, more significant than the usual little updates. Intrinsically, I knew something significant had changed, although I could not be sure as to what until later. I was a tad distracted at that particular moment. There came a loud crash which was followed by a rumble and then several bangs. Thuds and heavy footsteps rushed across the outer office as the hallway door was breached. Thankfully, the inner door remained locked and thicker than the first, but this would prove only a temporary barrier. My time had been exhausted, and as bitter as the pill tasted, I could afford no more time to be wasted on fruitless endeavors. I glanced towards my means of escape, a window overlooking the gardens and courtyard. We were high enough that I could find shelter along the exterior walls as I timed my escape or waited for the promised distraction. The window appeared clear and broad paned. I would need to break it¨Cthe latch appeared complicated and mechanical, likely associated with an artificed control somewhere near the desk. With one last heartfelt sigh, I glanced at the safe beneath the desk. That was when my coiled false-arm solved many of my problems all at once, if in an unforeseen manner. I had not realized the tendrils could behave so sharply, nor that the coiled tendrils bore such tension and pressure. My symbiote¡¯s tendrils snapped forward, the metallic gel of its flesh seemingly hardening to a razor edge and piercing through the safe door¡¯s seam. It caught me off guard, as for every force there is an equal and opposite; my false-arm had exerted much and without the proper leverage. Suddenly, I was lacking adequate counterweight and began to fall backwards. The symbiote also solved this problem as well, although I was unsure if it was planned or merely happenchance, for as I was falling back, the symbiote began pulling on the tendrils still wedged within the safe. The motion was a quick snap, abruptly halting my fall, but jarring my shoulder in the process. The metal of the safe creaked slightly, but remained largely unmoved by the motion. Just as quickly as the snapping stop came, the force reversed itself, then reversed itself again. -snap-snap-snap- Belatedly, I realized that my false-arm had formed sharp teeth along the surface of the tendrils which were wedged within the safe, and that the constant and slight back and forth motion was reminiscent of a saw. Flecks of metal and filings began to sprinkle both the symbiote and the plush carpet beneath the desk. The sawing generated some volume, but not near as much as the Peacekeepers struggling to enter the inner office. ¡°Now you find the gods-lickin¡¯ key?!¡± the first shouted, sounding similar to a snarl. ¡°Maid!¡± Somebody snapped their fingers, from their voice, I thought they were shouting away from the door. ¡°Get your¨C¡± At the same time, another spoke over them, ¡°-doesn¡¯t matter about damages! The alarm was tripped, so we¨C¡± How many guards were in the outer office? I could not help but wonder. I had counted at least five voices, but with them shouting over one another, they were far from coherent. Not that it mattered, really, except for me preparing against a certain number of immediate pursuers. ¡°-But there¡¯s no¨Cabsolutely no signs of entry! If this was a false alarm then you¡¯re¨C¡± ¡°-Move it!¡± The one who had shouted towards the possible-maid added. ¡°Get that key now! If anything¡¯s missing, you can bet it¡¯ll be worse than the whip¨C¡± One of the others, I thought perhaps the second voice, the one who had been slapped, added somewhat snidely, ¡°Ha! Well, if nothing¡¯s missing, wonder what¡¯ll happen to ya for kickin the last door down, yeah?¡± Meanwhile, the door to the safe was wobbling, the hinges nearly cut through, along with the lock-bar. It was then that a new voice entered the conversation, and one that left goosebumps prickling my emerging flesh. ¡°Boys,¡± A woman said in a sultry and confident voice. ¡°-that ain¡¯t a made you ass!¡± One of them hissed in a whisper. ¡°Ma¡¯am!¡± Two of the Peacekeepers greeted. A third instead used, ¡°your Lady-ship?¡± It seemed that one was unconfident of the proper mode of address. Given that all of the Peacekeepers present here came into contact with nobility on the regular, the only way that they would fail to know the correct mode of address was if the identity of the woman was in doubt. Regardless of the respectful tones, and in one case, a quaver, she continued speaking as she approached. Her movements came silently, and only her voice alerted me to her change in position, though she was still on the other side of the locked door, thankfully. ¡°Oh?¡± she asked, a sense of humor about her voice. I could imagine her smiling. While I could not be absolutely certain, and in fact, I doubted that this was the case as she would certainly be recognized by the guards, but her voice¡­ It reminded me of someone that I would rather avoid in perpetuity. However, unknown to my thoughts, the woman continued, ¡°Am I interrupting you? It seems that someone has made something of a mess for the beloved Baron Ore¡­¡± ¡°Just need the key, ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°What a coincidence!¡± She said, the anticipatory humor in her voice left me cringing, and I was considering abandoning the safe altogether, nevermind the fact that my symbiote had nearly finished sawing through the lock-bar. ¡°In fact, I do have the means of ingress with me.¡± ¡°The key-?¡± ¡°-You do?¡± Two separate voices spoke over each other. ¡°In a manner of speaking, yes.¡± Her smile was plain on her voice. All during this conversation, the Peacekeepers had ceased their attempted entry. I could not be certain that it was intentional or not, but the woman had certainly bought me several seconds. Already the lock-bar was loose. Only the jagged irregularities of the metal kept the safe closed at this point, but with the pressure my symbiote was exerting on both myself and the safe, I had non doubt that access was imminent. ¡°My, aren¡¯t you excited.¡± ¡°Give us the key already!¡± the first man, the most short-tempered of the bunch, snapped. ¡°Or stop wasting our¨C¡± Then came two simultaneous sounds: the man cutting off with a strangled gurgling, and a flash of a pop¨Cimmediately recognizable as an arcbow¨Cthis world¡¯s equivalent of firearms, except artificed instead of built upon chemical incendiary reactions. A second of stunned silence followed, before one of the remaining Peacekeepers protested. ¡°Y-you shot him!¡± he stuttered. ¡°...oopsie?¡± the woman said, mockingly. I was all but certain that this woman was the Princess Marissa at this point. Her voice, her sadism, just¡­ everything, pointed towards her. But unless she wore a convincing disguise, and I could think of no reasons for her to do so, the Peacekeepers should have recognized her. Which I took to mean that there was yet another sociopathic sadist on the loose. Briefly I wondered if that was an oxymoron, as sadists certainly did care for what others felt, so long as it was painful and brought the sadist pleasure. In the end, I decided it mattered little. Especially as the door handle began jimmying and moving far more than it should have, considering it remained locked. I would have heard a key if one were used. Unless¡­ I winced and peeked over the top of the desk. A hole had been burnt through the door handle, striking where the pins would have met the turning gear. A bit of slag from the door handle had almost dripped loose but had cooled and resolidified before separating from the rest of the handle. It was at just that second that the safe groaned as its door was dislodged completely, revealing the contents to my suddenly very greedy eyes. And while I could hardly catalog everything, I at least confirmed that a thick leather tome was there, along with fat coin purses, and several sealed documents. From an inner pocket of my uniform¡¯s jacket, I removed an empty cloth satchel and while holding it open with my teeth, I used my good-arm to load up everything, all the while my false-arm held the safe¡¯s lid in its grasp, for some reason reluctant to drop the lid. I spared the oddity not a thought. It was then that the door handle clicked and jammed, only partially turned. The door separating me from the inner office remained stuck closed. I finished loading my satchel and securing it around my neck and shoulder before turning to my own means of egress: the window. Meanwhile, as a Peacekeeper undoubtedly jiggling the stuck handle, he stuttered with clear nervousness in his voice, ¡°I-it¡¯s no-not turning¨C¡± The woman clicked her tongue before speaking once again in a voice laden with false sympathy. ¡°Perhaps the reason is that your hand is shaking. Why, it is almost as if you are nervous! Now, why would that be the case, I wonder¡­¡± When I first reached the window, I expected the latching to be a simple hook or slider. Unfortunately, a quick glance failed to discern the latching mechanism, and upon a slightly more thorough review, I thought I found a motorized track that the window would slide on. There were no buttons or levers in sight, and as this part of the job¡¯s portfolio had been light on the details, I was uncertain as to where the trigger could have been, although I expected that wherever it was that it was accessible from the desk. However, despite my suspicions, I simply lacked the time to gracefully open the window. While I considered the window, I had noticed it overlooked an expanse of gardens encompassing a courtyard which was in-turn encompassed by other wings of the manor. None of these facts helped me currently, but I expected to make use of them as soon as I shattered the glass. Rearing back and pivoting, I swung with my hips and hooked my elbow into the pane of glass. Other than a new bruise, I had little to show for the efforts. The window remained unaffected from my blow. I quickly surmised it to be reinforced. Before I swung again, the woman spoke once more, this time more loudly, and into the door itself. Instantly I determined she was speaking to me, even though she lacked confirmation that I was even in the office, at least if the Peacekeepers¡¯ discussion could be believed. ¡°Strange that the good host¡¯s men are struggling with such a simple concept as a door, is it not?¡± she asked, to me, presumably. ¡°But, while they remember how to turn a handle, how about you and I entertain ourselves with a pleasant chat. As it seems that you are a captive audience, I will take the liberty to begin this diversion¡­¡± She paused, and I could have sworn she licked her upper lip, although I had no means to confirm this beyond an unpleasant and tingling suspicion. Naturally, during this time, I continued my efforts to break the window, including tracing the windowsill to identify any structural weaknesses. There were none, at least not that I could find. ¡°...I must say, I was somewhat impressed with your ability to reach Ore¡¯s safe so readily. I expect that were it not for perhaps faulty intel, that you likely would have absconded with the prize¡­¡± I found the first heavy object I found, a decorative paper-weight, and I slammed it against the window. There was a slight chip from where I struck, but not much else. It seemed the paper-weight took more damage than the glass. But, the chip meant that progress had occurred. I struck the same spot once more, then again, all the while, the woman continued speaking. ¡°...Not only were you provided faulty information, but I expect that you are underpaid and undervalued by your current employer. Unless this is a solo job?¡± She seemed to be considering me through the door, despite the thick wooden slab between us, ¡°No, not solo, but then can you be certain that your friends will honor their deal? I would expect them to betray you at the very least. That sort of crowd always does, it seems¡­¡± The door handle groaned and something within gave out as additional torque was applied by the Peacekeeper. ¡°...undervalued, underpaid, underappreciated¡­ and most certainly¡­ not used to your full potential. Which is why I am so gracious as to extend an offer of employment, for my own private services¡­¡± I would be a fool to consider anything that she said. From my measure of her, I wanted nothing to do with her. The very fact she knew I existed, I felt, was incredibly unfortunate. I kept my thoughts to myself, never voicing anything that might reveal any characteristic of mine at all. All the while she spoke, I continued pounding away at the glass, chip after chip after chip. Small fissures began to extend from the point of impact. The glass would soon reach its shatterpoint. ¡°It seems you have the misunderstanding that the contract is in any way optional. But mark these words, you will serve.¡± She then focused once more on the Peacekeeper. ¡°Open it, now. Before she escapes.¡± I could not help but shudder from her mercurial insanity. The window began creaking as the fissures spread on their own, followed by small pops as the cracks divided. But then a sharper pop sounded, almost a retort. At the same time, the door to the office gained a large hole where the door handle had been. A second after that, a man shrieked. ¡°M-my hand!¡± ¡°Dally and your head will be next. Kick this door down. Now.¡± Apparently, the woman had ended her play and had moved straight to business. I could not say her new mood was not an improvement, but I would really rather her continue to hinder the Peacekeepers. And frustratingly enough, the window had still yet to fail catastrophically! Just what was it made of? Just as suddenly as I had such a thought, I found myself pivoting and bending away from my center in a reaction to my symbiote. All this time, it had kept the heavy metal lid firmly in its grasp. On its own initiative it had kept it, and now on its own initiative, it spun, unspooled, and sent the metal slab on a trajectory through the glass. A hole appeared where the metal had gone through the glass. The glass burst into thousands of shards of various sizes, but all of them razor sharp and falling out and away from the now open window. Chance Encounter: 5/9 (+1) I could only watch part of the breakage, as the centrifugal momentum continued to spin me even after the release. I spun and regained my balance, pivoting similarly to what a dancer might perform. When I next came around to face the window, I leapt through, transferring my spin from a vertical axis to a horizontal one, so that as I passed through the window I soon thereafter faced the sky, from which I reached both arms up and latched on to the wall above the window, allowing my Climbing Talent to kick in and leave me sticking fast to the exterior wall while I regained my breath. It was then that I realized there were screams. A substantial number of them, coming from the courtyard below. I risked a glance down and immediately cringed, for that was an unfortunate happenstance. Somehow I had failed to even consider that party-goers would spend time idling in the courtyard below. Their presence was messily inconvenient for them, and likely Baron Ore as well. The shards from the broken window had rained down like shrapnel on several men and women, several jagged pieces sticking from shoulders and forearms, one man with a cheek rent open and flapping. The worst though, was the woman seizing up and thrashing across the stone walkway. The slab of metal from the safe had crushed a portion of her temple. The gore overwhelmed me and almost caused me to vomit, and I would have, were it not for my false-arm squeezing my ribs and seemingly forcing me to regain control of myself, almost a threat. I always tended to respond well to threats, I thought. But I quickly regained myself thanks to the reminder. The gore was a problem for someone else. And if the objective was to cause Baron Ore embarrassment, then certainly the suffering below me would count. Thus, I made haste. With my Athleticism, I quickly scaled up the wall from where I had climbed out. Below, another crash came from within the office. It seemed as though the door had finally come down. I had not even climbed ten feet in a diagonal course from the window when a man shoved his head out the window. His face was ashen and damp; it seemed he had been forced to scout the exterior under duress. ¡°Well?¡± the woman demanded from the safety within. ¡°Where is she?¡± The manner in which she spoke implied dire consequences should the man fail. ¡°She¨C¡± he scrambled, frantically looking every which way until he finally glanced up and spotted me. ¡°She¡¯s up there!¡± He pointed at where I was still exposed, still climbing. For although it was night, there were plenty of lamps illuminating this section of the walls. And now that he had drawn attention to me, several of the partygoers below drew their attention from their wounds and from their wounded and saw where I climbed. Several pointing and shouting angrily, several demanding I be shot on the spot. The woman made a biting comment from within the office and something was thrust towards the man¡¯s hand, though I could only spare infrequent glances as I sought to turn a corner. The nearest cover I could see was a tower-esque turret that spanned the second and third floor. ¡°Yes, Lady¨C¡± the man started to say, but the woman cut her off. ¡°Less of your inanities and more of your shooting. Unless you truly are the waste of space I first perceived you as?¡± the woman asked. ¡°But,¡± the man stuttered. ¡°But my dominant hand is¨C¡± ¡°B-b-but my dominant hand is¨C¡± the woman mocked in a sneering voice. The man grimaced but clamped his jaw shot, steeling himself to shoot with his off hand. He angled himself out the window so that his left arm was sticking from the window, taking aim with a pink and chrome colored arcbow. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Then there followed an actinic pop. I felt warmth from near my knee and felt a second of panic, but the delayed shock of a grievous injury remained absent. I was relieved when I felt bits of masonry struck my leg, proving my nerves still intact. ¡°Failed, then?¡± the woman asked. ¡°I wonder just what Ore is thinking with your training. Nearly worthles¡­¡± ¡°Beg pardon,¡± the man said, wiping the sweat dripping from his brow with a blooded bandage. ¡°I¡¯ll hit her this time.¡± ¡°We shall see,¡± was all the woman returned. Meanwhile, I was unfortunately experiencing the reckless task of dodging gunfire. I still remember when my younger sister¡­ I forget her name¨C I shuddered and forced myself to redirect. But, the trick to dodging a gun, or an arcbow in this case, was to avoid being in the line of fire. So, as the Peacekeeper readied his aim once more, I guessed at where he aimed, where the trajectory would line up. This was far from an exact science, but I thought the shot might hit, somewhere near my right shoulder. I continued to climb, keeping an eye on him all the time. When I saw his hand start to tense, I released my hold upon the wall and I began dropping. I intended to drop no more than a foot. He fired before he had realized I had jerked downward. Masonry scattered across my face. My right hand went to regain my contact with the wall, but the wall was further away than I expected. I had not thought I had pushed myself off so far. A split second stretched as I raced to account for the change. It was my false arm that saved the situation, embedding tendrils in the stone and jarring me into the wall itself. The breath escaped my lungs. But I could not delay. The man popped a spent Charger from the arcbow and began slotting another in. The woman said something snidely, I was sure, though I failed to hear what she said exactly. Below me, in the courtyard, Peacekeepers had come rushing in; they carried with them longer variants of the arcbow, more similar to a rifle. Also, there came servants to tended to the wounded, although I paid them little mind except to note them. What I truly needed was cover, a place to hide for a moment of respite. Thus, this is what I sought as I continued to climb. ¡°Did you get her?¡± the woman asked. ¡°M-maybe? She fell a bit. Gonna try again¨C¡± The woman scoffed, and once more uttered, ¡°Worthless. ¡°I handed you the keys to the kingdom and you''re still missing the shot.¡± I had thought she might have been quoting a piece of literature, but I failed to recognize the piece. It seemed the man did as well, judging by his response. ¡°I-I would hardly call this arcbow the keys to¨C¡± ¡°Are you implying that I am mistaken?¡± she asked with venom. ¡°N-no,¡± the man squeaked out, turning his full attention upon me once more, now with the arcbow reloaded. During this time, I had not remained idle. I had determined the turret to be the best source of immediate cover, followed by a balcony I had remembered seeing on the other side of the wall. Unfortunately, I doubted I would make it in time. Rifles were pointing my way from below, in addition to the woman¡¯s gunman. I had been working my way sideways, but I was still three feet out. Without better options, I crouched from where I stuck to the wall and I sprang outwards and to the side, towards the turret. I could already tell that I had overshot. I would have sailed off into the night and come crashing down on the courtyard gardens below. This would hardly kill me, but it would slow me, and leave me momentarily exposed to the guards below. My false-arm fully uncoiled to its full length, whipping up and sideways, striking a protrusion from the farside of the turret. Less gracefully than a small child on a rope-swing, I went spinning out and around then back in, my left shoulder tight and uncomfortable pressure where tendrils had attached to my collarbone and ribs. Several flashes and pops, most from below, one from the side. Charred divots appeared in the stonework around me, though none hit. It was dark out, I was a moving target, and my form was not backlit or contrasted against the building. It would have been more surprising if any of them had hit. One of the shots did cause a brick to shatter and fall. It was apparently a facade of stucco or gypsum. The guard barely dodged away from in time, but when the brick struck the ground, it shattered to dust. Several of the partygoers observing my flight as some form of entertainment pointed at the powder and jeered the baron¡¯s shoddy work. Several wondered how many wounded would have suffered had the baron invested in appropriate building materials to begin with. They were quick enough with their discussion that I had just struck the farside of the wall when they had begun making such idle discourse. From my new vantage, the courtyard out of sight but not the garden. The hedges would prove only a slight buffer. It seemed that none of my pursuers were in sight, and I no longer heard the horrible woman¡¯s voice. Before I was found again, I decided that I absolutely required my Illusions. Though, my Guise was still in the process of dropping: my spine lengthened and stretched in a manner almost reminiscent of popping ones back, except far less satisfying. Perhaps another minute at tops before I had regained my ability to cast Illusions. Not for the first time, I regretted that I was missing my full kit. Smoke bombs or incendiaries would have proven most useful. I needed to make due. Rather than continuing to the side, or to the ground where I could run, I continued to climb. The roof of the manor was most irregular, offering plenty of avenues to conceal myself until a promised distraction occurred. And even should that distraction never arrive, once I had the ability to cast Illusions once more, I could make my escape regardless. My flight to the roof went uncontested. All throughout the grounds, shouts of alarm and infrequent wails broke the night, but the more disturbing by far were the sounds of merriment at the expense of those injured or seeking to capture myself. I should not have been surprised by this, as I had seen enough of the darker side of the humans of this land to know better, but I would have thought that they would at least keep their indecorous thoughts hidden from those currently suffering. This behavior, and general condition of society, all of it was a problem. But that did not make the problem mine. In fact, once I reached the rooftop, I encountered a problem of a different sort, technically the sort that I needed, but still frustrating. The roof itself was highly irregular. The manor gave the impression of going through various installments and additions over-time, with none of the architects agreeing on either elevation, slope, or even roofing materials. There were tower-like turrets placed at some corners, but not others. Portions of the roof suddenly ended and dropped to out of the way mini gardens, while others rose to make room for either a lofted ceiling or a half floor of some nature. Given that the turrets often had windows and sightlines covering most of the roof, I decided to avoid a prolonged stay. Even if none of the guards had the wherewithal to scout from the turrets, certainly some of them were enhanced enough to find their way up. Truthfully, I was unsure of how long my respite would last. I wanted to at least let my Guise completely drop before leaving, but rather than waiting in an out of the way crook or cranny, I decided to relocate towards the city side of the roof. Of course, my Guise continued dropping as I moved, even if I found myself tripping twice due to my shifting legs and gait. Soon, I reached the farside, and I found the yard and gardens a flurry of activity, with additional Peacekeepers streaming in from the outer gardens and their garrison. It was about then that my Guise finished dropping, and my Spirit began to finally refill. The sensation was welcome, a cool balm upon a burned soul. However, I could not simply sit and enjoy. Directly below me, nearly ten or fifteen feet, was a balcony that spanned much of the building¡¯s front, sitting over the entryway and colonnade. I had just peeked over the side of a very short and unsafe balustrade, when I caught the flash of lanterns sweeping the walls and edge of the roof. I pulled back and listened, but no additional sounds came from the two Peacekeepers stationed on the balcony. It was far from ideal, but so long as I waited for the correct opportunity and timed everything correctly, I expected I could slip by unseen. It was at that point that I noticed a strong light from one of the turret-like towers. I avoided moving, lest the motion draw the eye, but a Peacekeeper had just opened one of the upper windows and was leaning out with a long rifle. Chances were he would fail to spot me. But given he likely had enhancements geared towards sweeping his surroundings, I was unsure if I wanted to test just that. Perhaps I would risk moving earlier rather than later, I decided. But before I could decide on an angle, the double door leading to the balcony swung open and a large and hulking drunk of a man came stomping out. He wore the High Knight¡¯s dress uniform, and I thought I might have seen him around the Bridge Tower, but I could not recall exactly. He was followed by a servant who was pleading with him to return back to the other guests. The Knight was having none of it. ¡°An¡¯ miss all the action?¡± the Knight asked loudly, slurring. One of the Peacekeepers turned from his search of the surroundings, focused on the new entrant. ¡°Sir, please return inside until it¡¯s safe¨C¡± ¡°Bah! I was fightin¡¯ while you were still in yer crib, boy.¡± The Peacekeeper¡¯s brows furrowed, likely unhappy with the derisive comment. While this occurred, I realized I had just been given the best chance that I would likely receive. But even then, one of the Peacekeepers remained vigilant, and it would not take much for both them and the Knight to fall upon me should I be spotted prematurely. What I needed to do was to enhance this opportunity further. Scanning my surroundings, I found a statue of a nude woman hanging from the wall, sticking up and over the edge of the balustrade. It hovered over the edge of the balcony, but far enough from the Knight and Peacekeepers that I thought it would be unlikely to line up perfectly, unless I helped the situation. I slowly crawled across the roof, hugging the corner between balustrade adn sloping roof, expecting at anytime for one of the sweeping lanterns to fall upon me, or for a jarring actinic pop to blind me or pepper me with hot shrapnel. But inch after inch I crawled, all without being seen. Stealth I: (9/9 (+1) -> Stealth II: 1/9
  • Unnatural Concealment: 1/9
Additional pains wracked my right arm¨Can unusual amount of change, too much. My skin felt as though it were blistering, and were I not focused on the task at hand, I would have issued a complaint, or a whimper at the very least. But no, I could not allow my foes to be alerted by such a foible. Regardless of the pain, I continued. Soon, I reached the statue and I positioned my back to the roof and my legs to the top of the statue. I could have pushed then and there, sending the statue tumbling to the balcony, creating a great cacophony, and drawing the attention of the Knight and Peacekeepers. However, following a hunch, I fished a spent charger loose and tossed it up and over the side. A second later, I heard it clink against the floor of the balcony. ¡°Eh?¡± the Knight said. ¡°You heard that too?¡± ¡°Shh!¡± one of the Peacekeepers hissed. Footsteps softly and slowly approached where I had tossed the Charger. I counted to three. And then, I pushed. It came in a momentary strain, a bit of a creak as mortar cracked. Before the statue began falling, one of the men below shouted a warning. It seemed to have come just as the statue disappeared from sight, accelerating then crashing below, accompanied by one man¡¯s pained screams. I peaked over once again, though I regretted it. One of the Peacekeepers was down, his leg crushed and bone sticking through the gristle. The other was by his side in a show of solidarity. The Knight, however, was largely unaffected, and rather than giving the wounded man any attention at all, his sharp eyes, far too sharp for how drunk he had sounded earlier, sliced across the rooftop and landed on where I hid. I cursed myself for just having to look, but the damage was done. The Knight crouched and sprang up, catching the edge of the roof and pulling himself up the rest of the way. I was rolling backwards, regaining my footing in a crouch, and then I was off sprinting. The Knight drew a massive sword that had no business coming to a party. I had not even seen him wearing a sword earlier¨CI cut that line of thought off. This required focus. My tail offered a counterbalance, allowing me to take a corner more sharply than otherwise. Rather than make the turn himself, my pursuer rolled through, hit the side of a turret, before catching himself and leaping off of it, causing the turret¡¯s flag tipped top to shake. Irritatingly, the man was laughing like a braying hound. ¡°An¨Cand they said hunts¡¯ere out a¡¯ vogue!¡± He shouted. ¡°Knew them gits were full of it!¡± I heard wind whistling and a sense of danger sent me crouched rolling to the side, coming up to the edge of the roof, not far from where the balcony was. Lucky Break I: 2/9 (+1) The sword swept through where I had been. The momentum of the swing kept the man turning in a whirlwind that could not have ever been effective as it left his back glaringly open for a second before he completed his turn. As his eyes found mine I saw his smirk and I felt fury. But, I had my habit to make passion driven decisions driven out long ago. Even if the woman had been atrocious, her lessons had stuck, and not all of them were worthless. So, rather than engaging the brute with either violence or dialogue, I whispered my sole and only Spell. ¡°Illusion.¡± An indistinct fog overtook me and I jumped into the night. I hoped between the inconsistent lighting and my illusory cover that the Knight would lose track of me. The night air whistled past me as I plummeted towards an ornamental tree. None of the branches would be thick enough to stop a normal person¡¯s momentum, but with my Featherlight Talent, my momentum was hardly normal. I grabbed one branch, then another, bringing myself to a stop in a series of sudden jolting decelerations. While I had been falling, I had not failed to notice that the Knight stood on the edge of the roof looking down at me with a lurid grin splitting his face. When I finally hit the ground of the garden¡¯s manicured lawn, he gave a howl, sprung, and leapt towards the very same ornamental tree. I took off running into the surrounding gardens between the manor, the manor¡¯s fence, and the broader gardens and estates in the environs. The Knight crashed through the ornamental tree, tearing up the branches and making much of a racket that must have drawn every non-deaf guard in the vicinity. I glance behind me showed him unscathed, not even having lost his footing, and already taking off towards where I currently was running. Where I would run around obstacles or leap across hedges, he ran through them, even toppling a marble statue which turned out to be a plaster replica. I still had thirty seconds left on my Illusion before it ran out, but while my cover might have been obscuring me from most of the guards¡¯ sight, it did nothing for the Knight. Currently, it was the Knight that I needed to deal with. ¡°Illusion,¡± I whispered. A shadowy clone sprung off from my form, blurring away from me at an angle. The Knight paused a fraction of a second before disregarding the clone. I let it fade, and tried once more. ¡°Illusion.¡± Another clone sprang from me and sped off. Illusion I: 6/9 (+1) This one felt heavier, more realistic. The Knight faltered towards the clone before his nose twitched and he laughed. ¡°It¡¯ll take more than tricks to fool me, kunny.¡± ¡°Illusion.¡± I would not be deterred. Nearly, I was to the fence encompassing the baron¡¯s estate. It was overly large, but not built for patrolling or fortifications, instead for show and intimidation. While it was tall and clean and covered in ornamental metal, it lacked any obvious artificed security mechanisms. Once I crossed it, I could switch my focus to the Knight completely, assuming he still gave chase. ¡°Been needin a new pelt for the livin¡¯ space,¡± the Knight taunted, once again finding me, despite the fact I should not have been leaving any tracks whatsoever. Trackless Tracks I: 5/9 (+1) It must have been some form of Talent of his own to enable him to continue pursuit. I had just reached the cleared space before the wall when the Knight picked up the pace. His sword sang and I found myself flying to the side before I even realized that my false-arm had shot out and diverted me from disaster. The sword meanwhile embedded itself in the stone. ¡°Godslickin iron!¡± the Knight swore, seemingly bothered for the first time that night, and all because his oversized blade had become wedged in the ornamental cast-iron grilling. Not one to let an opportunity pass, I jumped and swung my false-arm, trusting in the tendrils to unspool and grab the top of the wall. My ability to stick to any surface seemed to translate to the symbiote, which was terrifying for several reasons that I always avoided thinking too much upon. Soon, I was rappelling upwards. I had just cleared the top, had just begun a roll down to the other side, when I caught sight of several Vigilants, including Velvetcall. A portion of me wondered how and why he had been heading in this direction already. The rest of me put on all haste to escape. My Illusion had faded already, and it would take another forty seconds until I had refilled my reserves. I still had some Spirit in the tank, but if I exhausted the pool completely, then recovery would be delayed, and my physicality would suffer for it immediately. For the moment, I relied upon my more traditional means of escape. I dashed into the thicker parts of the garden, though not a single inch of the space could be claimed as untamed or unmanicured, which made disappearing completely into the shadows difficult. Velvetcall issued a suggestion. I was unable to hear it over the sound of my own heart and footsteps. A portion of me registered that I could not confirm he was talking to me of all people, and implied hardly meant the same thing as without doubt. I continued onward, not even suffering a hitch in my step. Flexibility: 7/9 (+1) I passed another estate when I was coming up on the Peacekeepers garrison. The Knight had apparently been heading in this direction as well, as I saw him racing forward towards the choke point ahead of me, although he gave no signs of having seen me. I saw no evidence of the Vigilants following me. It seems that without Guesswork, they lacked the ability to track me, at least not easily. Up ahead, I heard sounds of conflict, of bellowing. I recognized one of the bellows at least. Bee. With them serving as a distraction, and with my pursuers thrown off¡­ for all intents and purposes I had escaped with the prize. I could leave now and consider my job a success. The Knight had reached the garrison and circled around the actual fortifications to the opposite side where the conflict was. Peacekeepers continued to rush in from their various patrols around the Hills. Velvetcall and a girl I failed to recognize landed in the open yard surrounding the Garrison. They had been jumping to quickly move, a mode of travel reminiscent of fleas. Fitting. That. But, with all of these foes heading towards the twins, I perhaps felt some worry. Or curiosity. Regardless, I found myself trailing after the Vigilants and Knight, though I kept to the periphery, where the treeline met the yard. That path took a detour compared to the direct routes of those I followed, but I could not just abandon stealth in the presence of enemies. While I circled the Garrison, before the fight had come into view, I heard Bee bellow rhythmically. Then, I saw a Peacekeeper fly over the Garrison walls. He flailed in the air and struck the ground facefirst. His body crumpled up and over the contact point. There was a smear, and his spine seemed bent in unfortunate ways. I finally reached sight of the fight, and I discovered Bee to be laughing uproariously as he used another Peacekeeper as a bludgeon to keep the others away. The Knight was about the size of Bee, and the moment Bee and the Knight struck eyes, it seemed a match had been made. The Knight roared and charged. Bee bellowed, threw the Peacekeeper to the side, collapsing another two of the guards as a human projectile struck them, and then Bee made a straight line towards the Knight. Curiously, neither Bee nor the Knight readied their weapons, and I knew that the Knight had a sword, or at least that he had, even though I found no hint of it on his person. Then Bee and the Knight collided. An almost shockwave echoed out from the impact as they immediately locked horns to forehead and arms to shoulders and they began pressing against each other, hooves and boots digging in as they sought supremacy. They created a bizarre sight, but it was one that not all were content to watch. On the Garrison¡¯s tower, a Peacekeeper aimed his rifle towards where Bee wrestled. The shot might not have been a clean one, with the Knight so close to Bee, but I had realized long ago that many in this world failed to account for friendly fire. And true enough, the Peacekeeper took the shot, though it went wide by a foot, missing Bee¡¯s back. Neither Bee nor the Knight had noticed the shot, nor had they seemed to care, focused solely upon what I was coming to humorously consider their mating ritual. But humor would hardly do any favors as the Peacekeeper reloaded, and as the others had formed a loose perimeter around the Meohr and the Knight. Before the sniper could take another shot though, a white streak stopped behind him, an almost shadow, but the wrong color. The Peacekeeper lost his balance and fell from the ramparts. As the drop was nearly ten yards, I assumed his impact would be fatal. Meanwhile, the white shadow resolved into the second Meohr twin, Ay. She waved towards where I was still hidden, before she streaked away once more, towards where another Peacekeeper was setting up a shot. As she had the shooters handled, I decided to take on the problem more immediate to my surroundings. This was not the Peacekeepers forming a loose perimeter around Bee and the Knight, as I had no doubt that Bee could push through that chaff with ease. No, what I worried about was the Vigilants. Particularly, Velvetcall. The girl who followed him around likely had some powers as well, although as I lacked familiarity with her costume, I assumed she was the less dangerous of the two. Ay resolved once more up on the ramparts, having shoved off another shooter. It seemed she had gotten them all thus far, although more may still arrive. But for once, I saw a serious expression on her face as she glanced towards the Vigilants approaching Bee. And while the Vigilants approached with caution, and in Velvetcall¡¯s case, amusement, they would serve a significant problem. Especially if Bee lacked the means to resist verbal compulsions, which, if Ay¡¯s panicked look was to be an indicator, he did lack. If that was the case, then all it would take was just one word from him and Bee would be caught. Of course, I could not just allow a member of my crew to go down. Especially not when he knew my civilian identity. While I doubted he would reveal anything willingly, this was a world with compulsions and psychics, and one that readily accepted torture. I could not allow him to be caught. Ay seemed to share my thoughts, though her motivations likely differed from my own. She had obtained one of the rifles from the ramparts and was sighting down the Vigilants. But when she pulled the trigger, her shot missed by a significant margin. Instead of landing anywhere near the Vigilants, a Peacekeeper several yards away crumpled with a smoking hole in his gut. Ay swore and tossed the rifle and streaked away, going from the ramparts to the roof before hitting the courtyard of the Garrison, out of sight momentarily. She would not arrive in time. While she had taken the shot and missed, Velvetcall had pushed aside several Peacekeepers and was watching Bee and the Knight struggle against each other. Velvetcall was not quite smiling, but definitely enjoying the sport. This gave me plenty of time to act. I had no interest in going anywhere near the mess on my own, and I lacked weaponry that had any range, but I did have several tools at my disposal that could work, and those largely circled my Illusions. I had a choice to make in that regard. A strobing light could blind and disorient and distract the Vigilants as Bee made his escape. But that distraction might also hinder Bee, and there was no guarantee he would break free from the Knight, if he even could. The Knight had been slightly inconvenienced by my Illusions earlier, so I lacked the confidence that a distraction would suffice. However, that was not the end of my kit, as I could also invest more Spirit into the Spell and grant an Illusion tangibility. This opened up quite a few options. I could create a knife, a sword, a clone, or something more suitable to deliver ranged violence. A portion of me wished to create a gun of some sort, but I had little idea how the innards of a gun actually worked, and I required intimate knowledge of every aspect of my Illusion to grant it a desired effect. I was unsure if I could even mimic chemical reactions such as gunpowder, let alone whatever magic artificed arcbows employed, However, guns and arcbows were not the end-all, be-all, of ranged weapons. Knives could be thrown. Although, were I to rely upon a thrown weapon, I would choose a javelin instead, as knives were notoriously difficult to throw in a dynamic environment. I decided to go with a different option. ¡°Illusion,¡± I uttered, picturing the very image of that which I required, imagining the feel of it in my hand, its weight, its sprung tension seeking release, somewhat similar to the coiled power my symbiote could bring to bear. ¡°Tangible,¡± I finished. Spirit flew from me, leaving me feeling sore and weak in a metaphysical itching sort of way. But in my hand, the crossbow finished forming, already armed and cocked. I could not hold the Illusion for more than thirty seconds at the best of times, more realistically I had twenty seconds at best. Only several seconds were required to aim the sights down at Velvetcall. Only a fraction of a second was required to press the trigger. Only a second more for the bolt to strike. I dropped the crossbow, releasing it from my grip. It was more akin to dropping a balloon though, as it floated away from my hand instead of succumbing to gravity. I noted the oddity for later investigation as I watched the bolt fly and strike Velvetcall¡¯s shoulder. Or it would have anyway, if the girl had remained stationary. Instead, she had somehow detected the bolt and its trajectory, and she had pushed Velvetcall in those few seconds between my pulling of the trigger and the bolt striking its target. Instead of hitting the boy in the ribs and inflicting perhaps a fatal wound, the bolt skimmed the side of his shoulder, still cutting him and leading to his crying out in pain, but nothing that would be too debilitating. I hoped the wound was deep enough to delay him. As he cried out, clutching his shoulder, turning to glare at the girl of all things, I let the Illusion drop. Illusion I: 7/9 (+1) The familiar burning ran across my right forearm as the Mark updated itself, reaching its circuitry like strands deeper into my core. My false-arm shivered in pleasure, which I knew as it released a certain musk that somehow left me somewhat at peace, though the feeling quickly abated. While Velvetcall was busy reprimanding the girl, Ay streaked down to her twin and shanked the Knight. The Knight roared and pivoted, pulling back from Bee to throw a hook towards Ay. But Ay disappeared in a cloudburst of white, before reappearing behind him. ¡°Time to go!¡± she shouted at him. ¡°It was just getting good,¡± Bee snorted, irritation clear in his voice, but he disengaged form the Knight all the same while his sister darted around the Knight¡¯s heavy swings. ¡°You¡¯ve got the worst timing, beast.¡± The Knight snarled, trying to get his hands on Ay, though she was grinning in a bovine manner and goading the Knight on. She ducked under one blow and pivoted from another, spinning in an almost dance before sliding a dagger along the Knight¡¯s outer thigh. The pants split, but not his skin. He still screamed in irritation. ¡°Watch the uniform!¡± he roared. It was at this point, I realized that all of these people suffered some form of insanity. However, there was naught more that I could do. Bee pivoted and began charging with his horns lowered towards the city. The Peacekeepers between him and the city had a brief time to consider their options. One chose to level his arcbow. Another dove to the side. The one who had begun aiming his arcbow was gored in the chest. Bee lifted his head with the man still impaled, blood gushing from the wound and staining Bee¡¯s white fur red. The gored peacekeeper went flying as Bee snapped his head up and to the side, shaking the Peacekeeper loose from the horn. And then Bee kept running. It was then that I chose to disengage as well, gaining distance. Of course, I had already gained some distance, for I had been slinking along the shadows as soon as I had made my shot. But as Bee fled and led the more spirited defenders on a fruitless chase, and as Ay continued tormenting the Knight, and as Velvetcall continued complaining while the girl dressed his wounded shoulder, I made my own escape, although I did so much more stealthily than Bee. A minute later I had crossed over to the public side of the hill, though I was still in the vast gardens that surrounded many of the estates. It was as I traveled through the shadows and avoided sounds of traffic as the Peacekeepers fanned back out in search that Ay somehow found me. The white smoke materialized to my side. I noticed that she made no noise as she traveled this way, and that she left no tracks until she materialized. For a second, I froze. She looked me over, from head to foot to tail, which was still swaying behind me. Discomfort was felt. Much of it. No one had known I was¡­ not human¡­ and I felt dissatisfied that my Guise had been broken so soon. But I only had myself to blame. I should have begun reverting as soon as I passed the Garrison. But I had¡­ not forgotten to do so, but felt reluctant at the time. Not only was my most potent tool, my Illusions, locked away while I used my Guise, but it also came with its own feeling of unease and discomfort, like wearing clothes a size too small. Of course, these were mere excuses, which I castigated myself for as Ay stared me down. Did she even recognize me, I wondered. Given her smirk, the uniform I still wore, and my distinctive lilac fur and cyan eyes, it was very likely that she would make the connection. She was definitely smirking. I did not like this. Symbiotic Parasite (aka false-arm) 4 Tendrils, approximately 1.5 yards in length, unspooled. Talents:
  • Athleticism I (3/9):
    • Climbing I (5/9)
      • Featherlight I (4/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
    • Gymnastics (4/9)
  • Stealth II (1/9) (+1)
    • Trackless Tracks I (5/9) (+1)
      • Area Coverage (6/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
    • Unnatural Concealment: 1/9
  • Eschiver I (3/9)
    • Evasion I (2/9)
      • Impending Sense (4/9)
    • Lucky Break I (2/9) (+1)
      • Chance Encounter (5/9) (+1)
  • Courtly Dancing: Treachery (4/9)
    • Flexibility (7/9) (+1)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (7/9) (+2)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune I (1/9) (+1)
    • Malleable Form: 1/9
  • Closed
Gifts:
  • Obsession (4/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.5.5 Of course, these were mere excuses, which I castigated myself for as Ay stared me down. Did she even recognize me, I wondered. Given her smirk, the uniform I still wore, and my distinctive lilac fur and cyan eyes, it was very likely that she would make the connection. She was definitely smirking. I did not like this. *** ¡°Well, well,¡± Ay said, a smirk plain upon her voice as she dropped down beside me, exhibiting enough nonchalance to bely a frightening amount of confidence. I backed away from her, tensed and ready to spring. I was watching her closely. My mouth partially ajar, allowing me to taste the alleyway¡¯s disgusting air so long as I could gain a hint as to Ay¡¯s intentions. Ay began circling in a wide, slow, and luxurious manner, tapping her bovine chin as she considered me, looking at me, weighing me, and likely recognizing me. Many thoughts ran through my head, most of them negative. Most of the ramifications that I considered would be detrimental. Afterall, this was not a civilization built upon equality. And while me being non-human might gain some sympathy, it might also not. In fact, it might have the opposite effect and further strain any sympathy that might have been there. Afterall, she was a non-human who was forced to live as a non-human every day of her life, and likely suffered for it. I was a non-human that could blend in near perfectly and seamlessly. But even if she never held my Guise against me, she was still a liability. If she spread the word that Jackie the student and girl living at Ma¡¯Ritz was a beast, then there might be an ambush, potential slavery, or all manner of extortions that just seemed too horrible to fully imagine. ¡°Well?¡± Ay said, turning more fully towards me and leaning herself against a dirty brick wall. ¡°Cat got your tongue?¡± A pun, I thought, that was what Ay chose to go with? It astounded me, left me off balance, and caused vulnerabilities to form that should have remained hidden. Of course, the second my wariness began to slip, an internal alarm cried out and pulled my attention back to her. The damage was mitigated, but not nonexistent. ¡°I am not a cat,¡± I said, slightly huffing, before clicking my mouth shut. The words had slipped my lips before I thought them through, normalizing her behavior and her supposition, which would limit my options. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Ay said. She frowned and tilted her head one way, then the other. ¡°I see that. What are you, anyways?¡± I crossed my arms and stared at her, remaining silent instead of revealing anything further. I still had yet to decide on a course of action, but my options were dropping off quickly, and soon I would be left with naught at all, except passively following the course of events to their conclusion. What I desired was for her to distance this identity with my Guise altogether. However, I doubted that this was a possibility. Otherwise, why had she appeared here and now? It could have been curiosity, I supposed, but I thought she might have recognized the costume, or perhaps some other indicator that her alterations had granted her. Thus, I refrained from doing anything so foolish as outright declaring that I lacked knowledge on Ay¡¯s identity. For I feared what such a person would do to pursue their own humor. Instead of denying, I delayed. ¡°Did you arrive here merely to stare?¡± I asked in as neutral of a tone as I could manage. ¡°Have you been informed prior that this is rude to do?¡± She chuffed, something close to a scoff but conveying amusement instead. An odd expression for her to choose to make. ¡°Ya know, that must have slipped the instructor¡¯s mind.¡± ¡°Hm,¡± I said, angling away from her, towards the direction that the Peacekeepers had traveled, further into the lesser residential neighborhoods of Blossom Hill. ¡°Be sure to raise this criticism with them, then. I would stay to perhaps provide some additional instruction, but I must be off.¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± she asked. ¡°Where¡¯s it you¡¯re headed? Cause it almost seems like you¡¯re rushing off towards something nef-far-rius,¡± she finished, almost sounding as though she were sounding out the most complicated word I had heard from her yet. ¡°Oh, nothing of the sort, I assure you. I merely have an appointment to keep.¡± ¡°Huh,¡± she said, beginning to walk in my direction. She was working her jaw back and forth. I froze once more, halting in my own tracks. All of my attention was focused upon Ay as she approached. My false-arm coiled and tightened its grip upon my ribs in preparation. But then Ay kept moving on, passing me, until she poked her head from the alleyway, making a show of looking both ways. ¡°Sure you wanna go this way?¡± she asked. ¡°Seems a bit risky. Y¡¯know. Considering¡­¡± There were a substantial number of reasons that she would state that, but I could only confirm one of those reasons without implicating my identity as Jackie, although from her familiarity, I sensed doing so was a lost cause. But, even so, I felt it best to pursue the possibility of ambiguity. ¡°My obligations would take me in that direction,¡± I answered, shifting the satchel of ill-gotten gangs to find a more comfortable position. ¡°Uh-huh,¡± Ay said, giving a speculative and dubious glance. ¡°Seems foolish, but who¡¯m I to judge. Still though, seems like it¡¯d be a good chance to maybe cover up, y¡¯know?¡± I allowed my tongue to pass from my lips, but I worried that I would give the impression of a dog lolling its tongue, so I quickly stopped. ¡°Yeah, just something to think about¨C¡± she started, before I heard it. In the distance, there was a bellow and the sound of clashing. Several men and women shouted, with most of the content garbeled by the distance, but the sense they carried was that of military precission. Ay heard as well, cockign her head and smiling, ruefully. ¡°-but, seems like my fun¡¯s getting cut short. So run along no, yeah? Just be sure to hide away that adorable ¨C¡± she finished, disappearing in a flash of white smoke. A pop sounded from directly before me, followed by displaced air carrying fragrance of strawberries and sweat-caked fur. ¡°-boopable little snoot!¡± Ay reappeared directly before me, leaned in with a lurid grin, tapped a finger against my muzzle, and then disappeared with an abortive cackle. I failed to react in time, though after she disappeared my symbiote lashed through the air in which she had just vacated. I waited a pause, then turned about and head the opposite direction, layering an Illusion to conceal me from any prying eyes. When I felt certain I had escaped Ay altogether, I scurried up a wall to a low rooftop, from which I bounded along, roof to roof, until I found myself several blocks away. Once absolutely certain I was alone, I found a hidden nook between a chimney and a balustrade, and I once more began applying my Guise. I took a circuitous route back towards Laverna¡¯s Cup. It was a point of Belobog¡¯s arrogance that she had chosen her base of operations to reconvene after a high risk sortie. Were she to consider the possibility of being followed and trailed, she might have chosen one or more intermediary locations. Regardless, I arrived from the rooftops, jumping down and lightly landing on my feet, barely raising the dust on the ground with my passing. After donning my Guise, I had slipped into a neutral outfit with soft leather boots. While the echoes of Peacekeepers rousing the city echoed in the distance, I had no further encounters. The Peacekeepers, Knights, and Vigilants all remained distant problems, leaving me to stew upon my primary concern, which was Belobog and her crew. I had significant concerns that now would be when they betrayed me, stabbing me in the back, either figuratively or literally, and robbing me of my gains. They could even attempt to keep the gains while selling me off to the Baron to satisfy some vindictive and petty noble largesse. A part of me wondered if it would not be best to simply disappear now. I had the Grimoire in my posession. I could simply leave. But then I would lose out on Belobog¡¯s investigative resources, and my own efforts had returned naught regarding Alchemist Charson and the quest I had received from Emboru. The parasitic false-arm twitched at the thought of simply leaving. It disagreed with the wiser course of cowardice. Likely, it considered itself equal to any adversity we might encounter. If that were the case, then it undoubtedly suffered from a diminutive imagination, as there were plenty of counters available, namely fire, and other such accelerants. My concerns were the reason that I dallied as I approached the bar. My concerns were the excuse I might have given for loitering to the side of the entryway, straining my senses for any signs of betrayal or awaiting ambush. I could just barely make out voices within, none seeming hushed, especially not the twins. Ay was her regular boisterous self, chuckling and slapping the bartop. ¡°-good fight,¡± Bee grunted. ¡°Pity to end so quick.¡± ¡°If it went much longer, Velvetcall woulda caught up. For the best we made a strategic exit¨C¡± Belobog explained. ¡°Mean we ran with our tails tucked, huh?¡± Ay countered with her usual irreverence. I was growing increasingly confident that no immediate betrayal was waiting in the wings, but now I wondered what advantage they might let slip. I continued to listen for several minutes, although largely their chatting remained inane recountings of their embellished deeds. That was, until, Ay raised a concerning observation. ¡°Bored,¡± Ay stated. ¡°Drink,¡± Bee grunted, as though telling his sister to silence herself with that sole word. ¡°Yeah. But still. Bored¡­ I¡¯m bored!¡± she shouted. ¡°What¡¯s takin the new girl so long? Think she got busted?¡± Bee snorted. ¡°Ha, yeah. Be fun if she did. Especially with how confident she acted.¡± ¡°I would be surprised if she were picked up,¡± Belobog said. ¡°And it¡¯s not like we gave her a timeline for when to show up. Can¡¯t really say she¡¯s late. ¡®Sides, what¡¯s the rush?¡± ¡°Cuz I want loot,¡± Ay whined. ¡°Ugh. How¡¯d she even make a mess of it? Wasn¡¯t she supposed to be in and out? It¡¯s like she kicked the Baron in the nuts and laid his wife. Is he married?¡± ¡°Eh¡­ technically, yes?¡± Belobog said. ¡°He is?!¡± ¡°Yeah, but it¡¯s one of those political contracts with more paper than relations¡­ I don¡¯t think she even lives in Southbridge.¡± ¡°Huh. Well, whatev. But, like, the new girl. Think she¡¯s bailed?¡± ¡°...that would be incredibly foolish of her to do so,¡± Belobog said. ¡°That wasn¡¯t a no.¡± ¡°No. It wasn¡¯t a no.¡± ¡°I know she¡¯s holding out on us,¡± Ay said, almost conspiratorially. ¡°So, when I was on my way back, I had an interesting little meetup, and I couldn¡¯t¨C¡± ¡°-gonna hafta stop you there,¡± Belobog cut in. ¡°Pretty sure she just showed up.¡± ¡°What. Really?¡± ¡°Yup.¡± ¡°Just now?¡± ¡°Uh-huh.¡± ¡°Seems¡­ convenient.¡± ¡°What¡¯re you saying?¡± ¡°Just sayin, it¡¯s awfully coincide-ntal¡­¡± Meanwhile, as soon as I heard her start to mention a suspicious encounter, I had started towards the door. When I heard Belobog mention my presence, I hastened my pace even further. Seconds later, I entered the bar, finding Ay, Bee, and Belobog sitting at the bar, with Joe standing behind it seemingly amused. Notably, Joe was wearing a more refined outfit, resembling what some of the partygoers had worn at the party I had just arrived from. ¡°Speak of the devil,¡± Joe said with a twinkle in his eyes. Belobog winced and uttered under her breath, ¡°and she doth appear.¡± Ay gave her some side-eye but ignored her otherwise. ¡°Some mightily suspicious timing, there,¡± Ay said with a smirk. I shrugged, sliding up to sit at the edge of the bar. I settled the satchel of loot down on the bartop, which Joe nodded at. ¡°That the goods?¡± Joe asked. ¡°The loot?¡± Ay added before I could confirm. ¡°Bout time. What took you even?¡± she asked. I wanted to bemoan the unprofessionalism and risky behavior exhibited, but I refrained from making my exasperation known. However, a gentle chiding by demonstrating an ideal would not be remiss. Thus, I explained my prolonged absence, neatly sidestepping my penchant for eavesdropping. ¡°I verified that I had no tails,¡± I said. ¡°Could the same security measures be claimed by the rest of you?¡± ¡°Ha. As if we¡¯d need ¡®em,¡± Ay jested. She was failing to take my advice to heart. Ultimately, this would be a detriment to the crew. I hoped Belobog had plans to account for this deficiency, and that she would not solely rely upon her psychic talents. Afterall, inexplicable powers could be circumvented. Meanwhile, Joe pulled an elaborate green bottle from somewhere below the bar. Other than a few engravings, the bottle was bereft of labeling. However, the quality of the glass alone demonstrated wealth. ¡°Bout time we get the good stuff,¡± Ay said. Her eyes were drawn to the bottle. But when Joe placed only pulled a single tumbler on the bar-mat, she narrowed her eyes. ¡°That¡¯s gonna be for me.¡± Joe scoffed in a friendly way. ¡°As if,¡± he said. ¡°Haven¡¯t you had enough?¡± It was subtle, but he had molded his mannerisms in a way that was somewhat similar to Ay¡¯s own behavior. I noticed, I thought that Belobog noticed, but Ay most likely had failed to identify the subtle manipulation. ¡°Nah,¡± Ay said. ¡°Never enough. Y¡¯know?¡± ¡°I know,¡± Joe said, winking at her and pulling out another tumbler. Belobog cleared her throat. ¡°If we¡¯re breaking that out, I wouldn¡¯t mind some as well, yeah?¡± Joe rolled his eyes and went to grab another tumbler. Before he finished grabbing it though, he glanced up at Bee. ¡°What about you, big guy?¡± Bee¡¯s nostrils flared. ¡°No,¡± Bee said, after a slight pause. He tipped his tankard towards himself to check its contents. ¡°Take a refill, though.¡± ¡°Got it,¡± Joe said. In the end, he poured four doubles over neat. Joe, Belobog, Ay, and myself, we all received one. ¡°Cheers?¡± Ay offered, lifting her drink up. Joe clinked his glass to hers. Belobog rolled her eyes and did the same. Not wishing to create superfluous enmity, I also joined in. ¡°Cheers,¡± Joe said. ¡°To a job well done,¡± I added, hoping that I had avoided overstepping while still providing a memorable joining to their social graces. ¡°To chaos and ruin!¡± Belobog said, adding a touch of the dramatic. My eyebrows may have raised slightly, but I smoothed them down quickly. I could not be certain how serious Belobog¡¯s statement had been. Especially so considering none of the others seemed to make anything of it, except for amusement. Ay snorted a laugh before throwing her tumbler back, downing the contents all in one gulp. Which, admittedly, was less impressive for a Meohr than it would have been for a human, but still notable. I brought my own drink to my lips and allowed myself time to examine its complexities. It was sweet, but not sickeningly so, and I could tell the flavor would be nuanced across the entire palate. I allowed myself to breathe in its scents, before it ever touched my tongue. The liquor carried a hint of true licorice, with perhaps an undertone of vanilla and concerningly the faintest whiff of almonds. Were I not somewhat immune to Alchemics, I would not have taken the risk. Afterall, there were plenty of methods to slip poison, and the fact that the others imbibed from the same pouring offered no protection from an experienced assassin. However, I was immune to all but the most severe doses of alchemical solutions, and as this included poisons and venoms, I felt confident in my ability to survive any potential foul-play, at least from this vehicle. As I wished to further enjoin myself to the team, I felt somewhat compelled to also share in this drink. I decided that I would do so. But before I did, I accounted for the fact that my persona was still somewhat suspicious of them, as acting naive would gain me no favors. I also accounted for the fact that these potential betrayers were unaware of my Talents, such as my alchemical immunity, and I wished to keep it this way. Thus, I intentionally delayed imbibing until after I had visibly confirmed all the others had already drunk from their tumblers. Only then, did I imbibe. Truly, I could taste the quality of the liquor. It tingled at the back of my throat and continued its warm slide down my esophagus and into my stomach. ¡°Good, right?¡± Ay asked with amusement. I nodded slowly. ¡°Indeed. I might wish to partake again in the future.¡± ¡°It costs an arm and two legs for a reason,¡± Joe said as he stopped the bottle and re-hid it below the bar. As he stood up, he grabbed a felt hat and an ornamental cane, before heading towards the exit from behind the bar. ¡°But if you¡¯d excuse me from the revelries, I need to depart for a somewhat neutral to unpleasant meeting.¡± ¡°This time of night?¡± Bee asked, eyeing the man with suspicion. I also felt suspicion and my immediate desire was to tail the man to confirm that he was not about to betray me. Especially after a rather suspicious toast. ¡°Ah, let him go,¡± Ay said, waving him off. ¡°Just some boring shit. Prolly giving the client some deets.¡± Belobog sputtered, ¡°How¨Cwhat? No, how, how¡¯d you know that?¡± she asked Ay. Joe gave an amused smile, wave, and finally a wink, all before placing his high-society hat upon his head and departing through the front entrance. Once more, I quelled my instinct to follow. I would not be able to depart immediately without rousing suspicions from those that remained, which would flow back towards Joe, near negating any advantage spying upon this meeting might have gained. Additionally, I had matters to settle with the team in regards to me collecting my prize¡­ and perhaps in confirming my Guise would remain confidential. Although, other than bloodshed, I was drawing a blank in how to achieve the latter. ¡°Pffft,¡± Ay said, waving Belobog off. ¡°Like it isn¡¯t obvious. You shirkin¡¯ on the paperwork, and our man Joe pickin¡¯ up the slack. Plus, you saw his getup. No way he ain¡¯t. Y¡¯know?¡± Belobog huffed but gave a half-hearted shrug. ¡°I guess you got me there.¡± ¡°Not used to others havin¡¯ a brain, huh?¡± Ay taunted. ¡°It surprises me, too,¡± Bee added in a serious fashion. Ay mimed a blade to the heart and lolled her long tongue as she hung her head. ¡°Bleurgh,¡± Ay added. I eyed her suspiciously, glad that I had Bee sitting between her and I. Her dramatics and play-acting were difficult to model, and I kept finding her behavior to be startling. Having a buffer between us was most-welcome. Although, Bee did stink slightly of gore and wet dog. Unfortunately, proper hygiene was not guaranteed in Southbridge. ¡°But seriously,¡± Ay said, quickly dropping her act, likely growing bored. ¡°Gotta talk about the new girl. She¡¯s been holdin¡¯ out.¡± My shoulders tensed slightly, more on my left side than my right. My body was growing more asymmetrical by the day, thanks to the symbiote¡¯s internal growth. ¡°Not this again,¡± Belobog complained, saving me from interjecting in a suspicious fashion. ¡°Nah, I¡¯m serious,¡± Ay said, although she sounded more amused than anything else. ¡°How in the godslickin¡¯ name did she raise that sorta alarm and get away? Shit went sideways. Ya had them all but frothin¡¯ in the mouth. Wild.¡± This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. ¡°Messed up,¡± Bee muttered into his drink. ¡°Hm?¡± Ay asked him to repeat himself. ¡°I said, she messed up. She said she could sneak in and out. She didn¡¯t. Messed up,¡± he clarified, somewhat more heated than I would have otherwise anticipated. ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t know ¡®bout that,¡± Ay said. ¡°Got the job done, yeah? And I¡¯m sure she grabbed some goodies for us. All good.¡± I suddenly found myself to regret my decision to sit so near Bee, especially as I realized that there may have been some resentment hidden beneath his dullard exterior. Given his thirst for violence, given his apparent abilities, I decided that my situation was far too precarious to continue. I pushed my now empty tumbler away and went to stand. My satchel still sat unmolested upon the bartop, and as this contained my prize, I went to grab it, so that I could remove my prize and relocate, preferably far away from these people. But when I went to do so, Bee brought a meaty palm forward and rested it upon the satchel. I tilted my head in question. If violence were to occur, then it would need to be sudden and unexpected to favor me. However, given the fact I was outnumbered and on their prepared ground, I doubted that a violent resolution would favor myself. But before I could truly make plans and respond to this rather jarring event, Ay stood herself, all while smirking. Belobog meanwhile rolled her eyes and mouthed a single word towards me after catching a glance from myself. ¡°Wait,¡± Belobog said silently. I doubted the twins detected this advice, as their attention was on me and the satchel, and there had been no volume to carry the advice to their ears. I determined that this was Belobog¡¯s recommendation to myself. And while I was loath to trust anything from her, advice included, as I had already determined that sudden violence would likely leave me worse-off, I decided to follow her recommendation. Thus, I waited. As this occurred, Ay grabbed a fresh tankard and went to stand on my other side, leaning into me and throwing an arm about my shoulders. ¡°Can¡¯t be leaving already,¡± Ay said in a playful tone. ¡°First you, then Joe. Ruins a lady¡¯s confidence.¡± A hot snort from her nostrils shifted my hair and bothered me. Her height left me feeling diminutive; her bulk as well. With her one one side, and her brother on the other, I suddenly felt quite hemmed in and somewhat claustrophobic. However, I would be remiss if I allowed this irreverent and burlesque creature to influence me in any manner other than irritation, as what she was doing now was likely part of some jape. Thus, without adding any additional ammunition to her arsenal, I pushed away from her and slipped out from under her arm, getting up and turning away. ¡°Unfortunately,¡± I said in as indifferent a tone as I could. ¡°I must be off¨C¡± I turned to face Bee and pointed at the satchel ¡°-if I could only retrieve my due for this job, then I will retire for the evening and allow you the remainder for your merriment.¡± Bee¡¯s eyes narrowed as I spoke, but his arm remained unmoved. In fact, the opposite may have occurred, as he seemed to increase the pressure his arm was exerting upon the satchel, as though I would have stolen it out from under him; which, from his perspective, may have been a reasonable concern. Ay, meanwhile, mouthed several words under her breath, seemingly actually confused. She eventually shook it off, but by then, her brother was already voicing his complaints. ¡°Something ain¡¯t right,¡± Bee said. I tilted my head and considered him. In my periphery, I watched Belobog and Ay and kept an ear out for Joe, in case this was where the betrayal occurred. From what I could determine, Bee was currently acting upon his own motivations. The other two did not appear united, although they avoided outright contradicting their teammate. That meant it was left to me to navigate this mess. ¡°I beg your pardon,¡± I said as neatly as I could, ¡°But I am uncertain as to¨C¡± ¡°-You messed up,¡± Bee cut in, not allowing me to finish. This bodes poorly, I thought. An outright argument would only cost me, either in societal currency or something more physical; it would have been best to avoid one altogether. ¡°I¡­¡± I trailed off, unsure of the best recourse. Immediately, I wanted to protest and refute his claim. I wanted to point out that the job was finished, largely thanks to my own efforts. I wanted him to cease his contrarian nonsense. However, plainly stating any of these things would fail to make me any friends. But, I was still able to offer a weak attempt to shift the topic. ¡°I am wondering if we should wait for Joe to return to have this discussion,¡± I said. ¡°Nah. I don¡¯t think so. He¡¯s not part o¡¯this. Y¡¯see,¡± Bee said, ¡°We had to bail you out. Stickin¡¯ our own necks out.¡± This was debatable. They performed their function, just as I performed mine. If this was a problem, then the twins should have noted so during the planning phase, not after job completion. In fact, I would go so far as to say that Bee¡¯s current behavior was detestable. But as I said this, Ay rejoined the conversation with a welcome reprieve. ¡°Pfft,¡± Ay said, blowing a raspberry. ¡°Bee, you know you an¡¯ I had fun. Why you brinin¡¯ this up now?¡± Yes, indeed, I thought. Why now? Except to renegotiate the payout. Of course, I remained as tactful as I could be and I resisted the urge to state this fact. Bee continued rolling forward under his own considerable stubbornness. ¡°Not the point,¡± Bee grunted. At this point, I was considering solutions beyond the artful use of words. It was at this point, that the final inhabitant of the room, Belobog, made her presence known and re-entered the foray. ¡°Then what is?¡± Belobog asked. ¡°The point, I mean.¡± The fact that she was asking such a question seemed odd. As a psychic, she would have already known his motivations and what he was thinking. Asking the question must have been for her benefit, I was just unsure as to how that was so. ¡°Why¡¯s she gettin¡¯ all the loot?¡± Bee said. ¡°She messed up. So why? Where¡¯s our cut?¡± And there it was. It took considerable willpower to refrain from sneering or tossing his tankard upon his face. But fortunately, I had practiced some in the art of rhetoric. In the case of an accusation or argument, the best course of action would always be to disprove the opponent¡¯s statement. Failing that, to negate it. And failing that, to deflect. In this case, the first and best option would suffice. ¡°You keep saying that I have somehow ¡®messed up,¡¯¡± I interjected, ¡°But that statement is factually incorrect. Afterall, I succeeded by all metrics; the job was a success by the criteria established beforehand.¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Bee scoffed in disdain. ¡°Then why¡¯d the alarm trigger?¡± I glanced slyly at Belobog to see if she cared to chime in; afterall, the failure was in the provided intelligence, which had been derived by Belobog. Therefore, the weight of failure rested with her. And certainly enough, she almost seemed to have grimaced, although I may have just been imagining the expression change as well. ¡°That can be explained by the fact that the safe was trapped,¡± I said. While I could have thrown Belobog under the bus, so to speak, doing so would only alienate Belobog, which would in turn alienate me, leaving only the twins united. This would be a weaker position overall, especially as the twins were currently my detractors. ¡°I was still able to break through Baron Ore¡¯s safe, but the code we were given was incorrect; this resulted in the alarm, through no fault of our own. I still managed to secure¨C¡± ¡°So you¡¯re saying it¡¯s somebody else¡¯s fault? Course it can¡¯t be yours, miss do-no-wrong, missus arrogant. Can¡¯t have been you messin¡¯ up. Had to be us. You sayin the code was bad? Expect us to believe that?¡± Bee¡¯s voice was gaining more heat than I would have expected, and I thought that he may have been conflating a past experience with this one. However, as he contested the accuracy of the code and of my report, I once more glanced Belobog¡¯s way. She and I met eyes, and I let her see my expectation. Either she or I, but one of us would be explaining the faulty code. She of course opted to control the manner in which this was shared, alleviating some of the pressure on me. Belobog cut in with an exasperated groan. ¡°Just makin¡¯ me throw this out there, huh Bee?¡± Belobog said. Bee cut off mid-rant, canting his head towards Belobog, confusion writ upon his features. Ay snickered. ¡°But nah, the new girl is probably right.¡± ¡°Explain,¡± Bee grunted. Belobog offered another sigh, but then provided the explanation as well. ¡°While it¡¯s rare, it¡¯s been known to happen¡­ sometimes a person has a fake code memorized to counter people like me.¡± ¡°They knew we were comin?¡± Bee asked. ¡°Nah, don¡¯t think so,¡± Belobog said. ¡°Otherwise we wouldn¡¯t have gotten in so easily. More likely, it was a precaution against Guesswork.¡± ¡°But Guesswork is a Vigilant?¡± Ay offered. ¡°Exactly,¡± Belobog said, although this left Ay confused as well, which prompted Belobog to elaborate. ¡°The Vigilants aren¡¯t under the Baron, and Princess Marissa might be planning on stealing his city out from under him. He isn¡¯t gonna trust them.¡± ¡°I¨C¡± Ay cut herself off and shook her head, a vain attempt to clear herself from cluttered thoughts. ¡°That doesn¡¯t¡­¡± Ay trailed off. ¡°But if the guy doesn¡¯t know his own code to get into his own safe, then how¡¯s he gonna use it? It¡¯s bogus!¡± Belobog shrugged. ¡°I could think of a few ways easily enough. Like, he could have a dedicated servant just for that.¡± Bee snorted and cut back in. ¡°All this doesn¡¯t matter,¡± he said. ¡°The job went poorly. Doesn¡¯t make sense for the new girl to take everything.¡± He jabbed at the satchel for emphasis. It seemed, at least to me, that Bee suffered from conflation far too easily. It was a trait found in persons that struggled with logic chains, although that was hardly a solid rule. Regardless, unless he was using this conflation of my prize as ¡®everything¡¯ to gain a rhetorical advantage, then he was¡­ actually, I paused my train of thought. Rather than assume he was foolish enough to make an honest mistake, how did I know that this was not a deliberate ploy to rob me of my prize? It was as these suspicions hit that Belobog negated his conflation on my behalf. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t go that far,¡± Belobog said somewhat hesitantly. ¡°She¡¯s not getting everything, yeah?¡± I decided that Belobog had offered the best chance to refute Bee, and I also added to her claim. ¡°There were Chargers and Documents,¡± I said. ¡°Thus, after my promised cut is extracted, there will still be plentiful loot remaining for your cuts as well.¡± He scoffed in derision. ¡°Like the dregs would weigh up against the Grimoire,¡± he said. ¡°Think I¡¯m dumb enough to not know that? That I¡¯m just some animal? I have eyes. A brain. That Grimoire is worth a thousand times all the rest of it at least!¡± At some point he had stood up so that he towered over us, adamant and possibly angry as well. Wisely, I backed off slightly, easing up my physical claim upon the satchel, both to gain space should Bee react directly and foolishly, and in the hopes of de-escalation. Unfortunately, this caused me to back up against Ay, who had at some point closed in once more. I looked up and saw her peering down at me, clearly amused. ¡°How you doin?¡± she asked in what I thought was her version of a provocative voice. I grimaced and looked away, causing her to chuckle. However, while I reacted reasonably, perhaps less so, my symbiote did as well. For my false-arm twitched and suddenly there was an urgent craving; a specific craving; I had not realized that my symbiote had played a hand in that craving before now, but I should have, for it made some sense. But I found myself distracted, my thoughts turning towards Cook¡¯s ice-chest where she kept the special meats and the special jerky I had hidden away in my room. My mouth began watering. It was at that point that Belobog coughed, loudly enough to regain the room¡¯s attention, from whence she spoke. ¡°Nobody here said that you were dumb,¡± Belobog cut in. ¡°We all appreciate what you bring to the team. Right?¡± I gave a slight nod, while Ay only laughed louder. Bee was unaffected by Belobog¡¯s assertion. ¡°It was implied,¡± he said. ¡°Nu-huh,¡± Ay cut in. ¡°That¡¯s all you, little bro.¡± ¡°Really?¡± he turned towards her. ¡°I¡¯m doing this for you. You wanted loot.¡± ¡°Uh, yeah¡­ but what would I even use a Grimoire for?¡± ¡°Anything,¡± Bee said. ¡°Everything. You know this. I know it.¡± Ay blew a raspberry and waved him off. ¡°Nope. Not how it works. I¡¯m not wasting a full slot on a single dumb spell. ¡®Sides, it would take me two slots, since I¡¯d need something for Spirit too. So nu-huh. Screw that. New girl can keep it. It¡¯s clear she¡¯ll use it. Least we get somethin¡¯ for the team outta it.¡± This was not the first time that I had heard alterations such as Marks described as improvements sliding into slots. Afterall, there were only so many places that Marks could go, and once they had been installed, they were rather permanent. In the case of Spells, if Ay lacked a Greater Mark that could grow to account for it, then it was likely that the Grimoire would install itself as a single Mark that accounted solely for that Spell. And rightly so, she also intuited that Spells required fuel, which in this case was Spirit; that pool would also require a Mark to increase beyond the minimal amount that a person would have by default. It was one of the reasons that my own Illusions were so limited; my Spirit seemed incapable of growing since I had lost my left arm. However, these thoughts were merely a distraction. Especially as Bee had yet to concede his point. ¡°If you don¡¯t want it, that¡¯s fine,¡± he said to his sister. ¡°Just means we trade it. Get enough for all us to get the best. More fair this way than having some new girl walk away with everything.¡± To be fair, he did have a point. The rewards would lean heavily towards my end of the scales. But even if he had a point, I had had enough. I had been promised the Grimoire. The only reason I had performed such a risky job was to gain the Grimoire. I could make use of it, I would be making use of it. Even if I had to steal it again, I would be walking out with that Grimoire. I was still cataloging my arguments, and should those fail, alternatives up to and including significant violence, when Belobog interrupted me by putting her hand on my elbow. My real elbow, on my right arm. She seemed to be shying away from my left, smartly enough. Its tendrils were still coiling themselves in preparation for immediate action. However, as Belobog had approached me so directly, I diverted my attention towards her. She nodded off to the side and once more cut in, speaking to the twins. ¡°You all mind if I have a chat with our newest member for a bit? Just girl-to-girl, figure¨C¡± ¡°-Hey!¡± Ay protested, at the same time as Bee. ¡°-So you can find another way to trick us?¡± Bee asked, his ire up, but sounding less upset than he had previously. ¡°Nah,¡± Belobog denied, otherwise ignoring Ay¡¯s mock protest. ¡°I¡¯m not that devious,¡± Ay snorted in laughter, spewing ale from either an ill or intentionally timed drink. ¡°Uh, have you met you?¡± Ay asked Belobog. ¡°Ha,¡± Belobog said dryly. ¡°But I did promise Jackie the Grimoire to get her to do the job, and she did sneak into a fortified manor full of Vigilants, Knights, and Peacekeepers. If we¡¯re gonna yank the rug out from under her, I figure I should at least see what¡¯s up with her first, yeah? Maybe find a workable arrangement for everyone? Instead of ganging up on the new girl, yeah?¡± At this point, the day had been long, the night longer, and my mood had undeniably plummeted, along with what scant patience I had. When Belobog mentioned ¡®pulling the rug¡¯ out from under me, a small part of me hoped that they would try. Because should they try, I would find my footing, and they would then find the retaliation most dire. And ruthless. Belobog clicked her tongue at me. ¡°Just humor me, alright?¡± She said. ¡°I think we can figure something out to make everyone happy.¡± ¡°Ugh. Fine. Make it quick,¡± Bee said, waving us off. I noted that Bee had kept his meaty hand firmly set upon the satchel the entire time, even when I followed Belobog into the side room, the same where Joe had once acted as a fence. As we stepped in, I began to issue my complaints. ¡°Wha¨C¡± I had started to ask, ire plain on my voice, but Belobog interrupted. ¡°-Yeah,¡± Belobog said. ¡°Let¡¯s not waste time with suspicions or accusations. You¡¯re still getting the Grimoire, don¡¯t worry.¡± ¡°Then what¡¯s this about?¡± I asked, crossing my arms and frowning. ¡°So, just gonna throw this out there, but¡­ Do you want everyone here to hate you?¡± she asked. My frown only deepened as her question somewhat caught me off-guard. What did she even mean? I wondered. ¡°No, I take that back,¡± she answered her own question before I could. ¡°Do you want a four hundred pound gladiator in particular to hold a grudge against you?¡± She must have been referring to Bee. Personally, I expected he weighed more than that. Before I negated whatever threat she was attempting to use to extort me, she held up her hand to once more prevent me from speaking. ¡°I know, I know, right?¡± she said. ¡°You think you¡¯d only have to worry if he got his hands on you,¡± she said, wobbling slightly to the left and right. ¡°And¡­ to be fair, you¡¯re quite a bit faster than he is. But!¡± she quickly appended. ¡°But, that presumes you¡¯d see him coming. And even if you did¨C¡± I would notice him coming. I had a Talent to avoid being taken by surprise. At least I thought I did. It was not as though these Marks came with a manual. ¡°-even if you did,¡± she continued. ¡°You think he¡¯s never had to deal with speedy opponents in the arena? The man was undefeated in the Kwin Underground for five years. Five years! Even if you could dodge that, it¡¯s a needless risk to take¡­¡± I sighed. But when I was sure she had finished, and that I would finally be able to speak uninterrupted, I finally said, ¡°Do you have a solution, then?¡± I assumed that she did, otherwise, why make such a lengthy diatribe. ¡°Course,¡± she said glibly. ¡°It comes down to your commitment to the team.¡± I furrowed my brows. Not in confusion, but I was unsure of why any such thing would matter. She groaned. ¡°Y¡¯know, not all of us are as misanthropic, yeah?¡± I was not a misanthrope. She was misusing that term, I was all but certain. ¡°Look,¡± she said. ¡°The crew¡¯s like a family, alright? For someone who had a horrible childhood, it means a lot to put the crew first.¡± Again, I was unsure of what point she was attempting to make. Her groan came once more, this time more pronounced. ¡°You¡¯re killing me,¡± she complained. ¡°You¡¯re literally actually fucking killing me.¡± I was unimpressed by the vulgarity and chose to refrain from responding. ¡°Look, if you¡¯re committed to joining the crew, then you¡¯re committed to being part of the family. If you got our backs, then we got yours. This is how Bee thinks. Ay too, but to a lesser extent. So, I¡¯m thinking you prove your commitment, then you get the Grimoire without argument. You following?¡± This was foolish. Dumb, even. I shook my head. ¡°Alright, this isn¡¯t working. Why don¡¯t you tell me why you don¡¯t think this¡¯ll work?¡± Why would I need to do so, given her talents? ¡°Pretend like I¡¯m not Psychic, alright?¡± she added. This led me to a tangent as I considered her and her talents. Likely, there were limits too how often she could use her power. And while I had yet to define the limits, if I could even trust any limits I identified, as she could easily fake lesser limits than she truly had, causing me to underestimate¨C ¡°Jackie,¡± Belobog said, reminding me of our current dilemma. She asked for me to explain, and so, I started to do so. ¡°The first problem: I am already a member of the crew. The second problem: you promised me that Grimoire. If you had not, then I would have found alternatives to your extortion otherwise. The third problem, if we ignore the first two issues, then how could I ensure that he trusted my permanent membership in this crew? What sort of idiocy would be required to trust a thief? Thus¨C¡± ¡°Yeah, I get ya. What I¡¯m saying is dumb since the foundation isn¡¯t there. Right?¡± She paused, looking at me. ¡°Right,¡± she continued. ¡°Well, ignoring a bunch of what you left unsaid, the easiest way to get that ¡®trust¡¯ is to provide collateral. In fact, why don¡¯t we think of trust that way. As collateral.¡± I was unsure if I wanted to provide this organization additional leverage¨C ¡°Look,¡± Belobog said. ¡°Jackie,¡± she said again, this time with exasperation. ¡°Just¡­ you know it¡­ I know it¡­ Ay knows it¡­ And I¡¯m pretty sure you know Ay knows it too. Well, you know how she is with secrets, right? Pretty shit at it. So pretty soon, everyone in Laverna¡¯s is gonna know it.¡± A cold sweat prickled beneath my skin. ¡°And what is¡­ it?¡± I asked, although I did not want to. But I had to. Ignoring a problem would not remove it, only worsen the fallout. ¡°Yeah. You¡¯re not human, Jackie. Just pretending to be one.¡± No¡­ I groaned. ¡°Yep,¡± she said, emphasizing the trailing syllable in a way that left me desirous of carnage. ¡°Your act is pretty good, but¨C¡± she tapped the side of her head, ¡°Psychic, remember?¡± ¡°You said to pretend you were not,¡± I said sullenly. ¡°Psychic, that is.¡± It then occurred to me that she might have planned this discourse more than I had originally given credit for, if she had planted that statement just so I could later call her on it and reduce my internal strain. ¡°No comment,¡± she said with a smile, .likely reading my thoughts. ¡°But yeah, seriously, if you think that girl¡¯s gonna keep your secret¡­¡± ¡°It is true, Ay does not give the impression of propriety.¡± ¡°So it¡¯s gonna come out. It¡¯s a matter of you controlling the release of this,¡± Belobog added. I squashed my feelings for the manner, crushed and compacted them. They were irrelevant. Only facts mattered. ¡°Release this information that I am not a human in an advantageous manner,¡± I said. ¡°Yeah, basically that.¡± Belobog nodded. ¡°To clarify,¡± I said. ¡°If I do this, then the Grimoire is mine?¡± ¡°Eh. If you do this, then the twins will open up just a bit more, specifically Bee. And since they¡¯re the only ones arguing against it, yeah, I think it¡¯s a sure thing.¡± She shrugged, lacking confidence in her own solution. Unfortunately, no matter how hard I squeezed my emotions, they did not completely fade. Afterall, one could not go over a month living a false life under a false identity without having difficulties releasing it. Seeming to sense the difficulty, Beleobg continued. ¡°And since showing is better than telling, and since it takes a few to drop your¡­ shapeshifted form?¡± She paused to read my reaction. ¡°No, disguise?¡± She seemed to light up slightly. ¡°A Guise? Sweet. That¡¯s pretty solid, y¡¯know? Where¡¯d you even¨Cknow what? Doesn¡¯t matter. So your Guise, go ahead and start while I honey ya up with the fact that I found a lead¡­¡± I nodded slowly, somewhat numbly. Everything that she had said had made sense. Taking a step back, it would be a good thing objectively speaking. Having my Guise for my civilian life and my natural form for the crew would both reduce the chance of my identity failing and would increase my abilities while on the job. It was just¡­ hard. What would people think? Marianne¡­ Kate¨C I shuddered at that, as I already knew what she would think, and it left me nauseous. I would not allow emotions to control me. I began dropping the Guise. ¡°Oh! While you do that,¡± Belobog said, snapping her fingers. ¡°I think I¡¯ve found where the White Kaiva you¡¯re after is hiding out. It seems she¡¯s got a bit of heat from some of the gangs¡­ and get this¨Cthose cats you saw in the sewers? They¡¯re from all the way south in the Kaiva Empire. Legitimate agents of a foreign power. Crazy, right?¡± The changes were reverting, and my mouth was undergoing reconstruction, otherwise I would have asked her what her point was in a waspish fashion. Afterall, she could have told me this at any point beforehand, instead of saving this until now. Not that this context or lead was unwelcome. ¡°Yeah¡­ so, if I¡¯m reading things right, then that Kaiva is like a princess, or something along those lines? I¡¯m not really sure how their royalty works down there, but she¡¯s the daughter of someone important. Now why she¡¯s up here? Not sure, but it seems she had a falling out with daddy dearest and she left home without permission. ¡°Long story short, they want her back,¡± she finished. Cook¡¯s former employer was nobility of some sort? That would be difficult to believe, but it would not be the strangest thing I had encountered. However, this would require independent verification. Perhaps Cook would know more. No, she would know more. Perhaps she would be so kind as to inform me. But even then, her former employer was the least of my worries. Emboru¡¯s sibling was my actual priority here in Southbridge. My false-arm writhed during my transformation, twisting and contorting as my internal shape modified itself. I imagined that some of its motions were conveying its agreement, that is, that finding Emboru¡¯s sibling was priority zero. ¡°Yeah, I know, I know¨C¡± Belobog waved her hands, ¡°-but none of my sources have heard anything about that Alchemist. Which isn¡¯t so bad as it sounds. It¡¯s good news, if ya think about it. Since that means we know where he isn¡¯t, and where that leaves is somewhere deep in undertown¡­¡± Undertown? I wanted to ask, but I knew better than to attempt speaking with a half-formed muzzle. ¡°Ha. You¡¯ve never been? Wouldn¡¯t recommend it. It¡¯s the old and current mines running down the side of the chasm. Entire ecosystems down there. Nasty place.¡± Soon after, my Guise finished dropping, leaving me once more in my bestial form. It seemed the transition occurred much more quickly than before, likely due to my growth earlier in the night. It was then that Belobog strode towards the door and glanced at me over her shoulder. She winked and asked, ¡°Ready?¡± I snarled instead of grimacing as I intended, but I did manage to purposefully give a terse nod. She smirked, then threw open the door and strode out. I hesitated a moment, suffering a sudden bout of nerves, but I managed to place one leg in front of the other, my claws poking through the bottom of my boots and clicking against the floor; with each step, my own momentum carried me forward a little faster and a little easier, despite the nerves. ¡°Whelp, folks! No need to worry. We got it all figured out!¡± Belobog said loudly and with much cheer. She made room for me to pass, and it was as I did so that Bee cut off from his own scathing retort. ¡°See about¨C¡± Bee had started, but he trailed off when I passed through the door¡¯s threshold. Ay set her mug down and cat-called my way. Bee¡¯s reaction was more genuine. ¡°Who¨Cwhat¡­ Same clothes as¡­ a Kaiva?¡± he seemed to be asking himself. ¡°No¡­¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Belobog said with a shrug. ¡°And while I¡¯m not sure exactly what Jackie is, one thing¡¯s for sure, whatever she is definitely isn¡¯t human.¡± Bee furrowed his brows while Ay chuckled and elbowed her brother. ¡°Ah, lay off it. That¡¯s the new girl alright.¡± ¡°You knew?¡± He asked. Ay ignored his question, and instead smiled and nodded at me and gave what was likely another cat-call. ¡°Lookin good, babe!¡± Ay said. The fact that I had dropped my Guise proved Ay¡¯s irreverence. I did not appreciate her sarcasm in this matter. I was a beast. Belobog gave me some side-eye, but kept going with her explanation, after pausing for the twin¡¯s to express themselves. ¡°So,¡± Belobog said. ¡°We had a talk. Figured Jackie would open up a bit in good faith, and we¡¯d honor our end of the deal. The start of her joining our own little crew. Yeah? Welcome Jackie to Laverna¡¯s?¡± It was a slow thing, but eventually Bee nodded slightly. Ay watched her brother, pointed at him and laughed. ¡°Ah, just like that?¡± she asked. ¡°Where¡¯d all your bluster go?¡± Bee must have decided that he was done with it. He removed his weight from the satchel, abandoning it altogether. Instead, he sat down heavily, his reinforced stool groaning beneath him. He took a long draught from his tankard. Some of his ale ran down the sides of his mouth. When he set it down, he sighed heavily, but he otherwise kept his peace. ¡°Guess if he won¡¯t say it, then I will,¡± Ay said, turning her attention towards me. ¡°Welcome to the team! Did Belobog already show you where I¡¯m bunking?¡± She wiggled her eyebrows, which I had not even known that Meohr could do. It was that night, I ingested the Grimoire and unlocked my third and final Spell. Absorption 2.5.X.1 ¡°Guess if he won¡¯t say it, I will,¡± Ay¡¯s voice came muted through the thin panel separating Mask from the crew, but the meohr spoke boisterously enough that even a granny could have eavesdropped. It was one of her deficiencies which had already been noted; it had been intentionally left unaddressed. At least so far. With the team solidifying and with plans in motion, it may be time to correct the bad habit. That, or relocate to a base with thicker walls. However, for now, Mask used her volume as an opportunity to safely listen in without triggering any Talents in return. ¡°...Welcome to the team! Did Belobog already show you where I¡¯m bunking?¡± Ay finished, soliciting as either a joke or something more. Regardless of which, it was not overly a concern. Unless the girl was foolish enough to develop emotional ties¨Cwhich, now that he thought of it, she was foolish enough to do. He would consider nipping this problem in the bud when he returned. But for the moment, he let it be. As the discourse wrapped up inside, Mask withheld any reaction that might disturb his surroundings in any way at all, breathing only a fraction of what baseline humans required. And when the bar¡¯s inhabitants began to move about, Mask slipped away from his nook and padded away from Laverna¡¯s Cup. He was unsure if Jackie would be a boon or not, but it was undeniable that she had skill. The evening would tell, he supposed. While he departed Laverna¡¯s Cup, Mask let one persona drift apart while another took its place. Most of the changes were subtle. But it was always the subtleties that mattered most. His lips grew rigid, wrinkles appeared in some places while disappearing from others. Technically, none of these changes were the result of an alteration, but of skilled practice and application of facial control. But he doubted doing so would be as easy without some of his aids, he supposed. His shoulders rolled backwards and came across as a juxtaposition of both arrogance and wariness; overall unyielding, but still ready to hunch and bow if required. His gait increased in stride, placing more weight on his heels with each step. In short, Mask ceased being a bartender and sometimes fence; instead, he became someone else, a man who appeared and acted as though he were important enough to avoid questioning if spotted, but not so wealthy as to trigger unwelcome curiosity. If he were to label this persona, he would call it that of an attending high-class accountant; one who felt some irritation at being called upon at such a late hour. Mask continued climbing Blossom Hill, past the residences of the upper middle class and passing into the richer neighborhoods. During this time, he passed several patrols of anxious Peacekeepers. However, no action was required on his part. His act convinced them without more than a brief set of questions and a passover with a lantern. A minute¡¯s delay, at most. Humorously, the same could not be said for a few of the unlucky louts caught out that night. Mask passed more than one pulped and bloody corpse dragged off to the gutters. Mask found it ironic that these possible criminals or late-night adulterers had been caught and punished for a crime that they very much never committed. None of this budding emotion showed upon Mask¡¯s face, except for a sneer. He gave the messes a wide berth, to avoid staining his soles. Another face would have had a different reaction. Traveling was made slightly more irksome on this night, though this was not due to the increased patrols. It was due to precautions he was forced to take. Afterall, Jackie had been correct in that regard: it was terrible operational security to travel direct routes. Ironically though less humorously, the possible tail that concerned Mask the most was in fact Jackie. This concern had been one of the reasons he spent such a long time eavesdropping. Thus far, he had failed to detect any shadow trailing him from the rooftops. But Jackie was skilled enough to avoid being easily seen. This necessitated certain measures. After one patrol of Peacekeepers passed him by, he ducked into a shadow and took a long pause. With his keen ears and sight, he thought it likely he would detect any who followed him. After several minutes failing to prove anything, he dropped his mask and slipped on another, this time a man returning from a party, merry, sloshed, but of a high enough quality to avoid any aggressive actions from the law. Enterprising thieves or muggers would be a concern, at least they would have been, had it not been for the enthusiastic patrols. Mask followed the shadows through one alley, into another, and then emerged onto a street several blocks diagonal from where he had started. He faked a stumble and walked in a failure of a straight line, but all the while he kept his senses keen. Nothing was revealed. He even attempted humming a poor rendition of a popular upscale taproom song, as the volume would make any tail less cautious. Unless the tail was as skilled as he suspected Jackie might be. However, he refused to admit sloth into his routine just because of one girl that might avoid falling for such common tricks. Was this paranoia? Perhaps, but Mask had forgotten the meaning of the word long ago. One had to. Soon, he found a locked cellar belonging to an out of the way manor¨Cthe cellar itself remained obscured by a garden, only visible if one knew where to look. Mask produced a key, unlocked the greased mechanism, and slipped in through a crack before relocking the door behind him, as well as sliding a bar into place. Even should the lock be picked, the bar would pose a challenge unless a more destructive means were deployed. With this done, he dropped the act of a well off merry-making aristocrat and slipped into that of a footpad. Unnecessary, but some habits were beneficial to keep. He stalked down an underground path, a tunnel carved into the stone that composed most of the Middens infertile kingdom, and he entered the gloom. Not a single light was used. Each step was probed first with his toes prior to taking his weight. His hands remained outstretched and bent, to detect any tripwire or trap. He remained somewhat crouched, reducing his profile further. In such a way he traveled another block, taking advantage of the solitary tunnel before emerging once more into another manor¡¯s gardens. This side was lacking a door of anysort, but the tunnel was well hidden by a wall and the cover of an ornamental tree. From there, he continued onward with his stealth, traveling another three blocks and dodging all patrols with ease, until he finally arrived at his destination. He let himself in through the back of an upscale apothecary before descending into its deeper than necessary basement. Once there, he lit a small lantern sitting atop a wooden table and he sat at one of the two plain chairs. He let his persona drop, entering the most neutral state he was capable of. It was another sixteen minutes until he heard a faint click. Seconds later, a small one-way spyhole closed with the very same click, followed by a pair of immaculate yet heavy shelves sliding further into the wall, revealing a yawning opening from which very little light was produced, and from which a woman draped in loose clothing and a deep hood emerged. Mask remained where he had been all the while, sitting at ease yet observing every detail to the minutest degree. This included the woman who sat at the table across from him. While the shadows and the scarf concealed much of her face, her eyes all but glowed in the scant light from the candle. This was the agent of his client. And while Mask may have had suspicions as to who his client was, and to who this agent was, he did his best to forget. Afterall, he frequently came in close contact with a psychic of some ability. The silence thus remained for a minute longer as each the man and the woman regarded each other. Mask would have allowed this state to persist quite a while longer, a fact which the woman knew quite well. It was thus the woman that broke the silence by speaking first. ¡°Some details from the night¡¯s endeavor have reached our ears, but they are likely exaggerated by rumor-mongering and intoxicated witnesses. What have you to report on the matter?¡± the woman asked, attending directly to the matter at hand. Mask appreciated the habit. ¡°A substantial amount,¡± Mask answered. ¡°What matter should I report on first?¡± The woman considered briefly before answering, ¡°Begin with the results, if you would.¡±Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. An easy enough task, Mask thought. He had already reviewed their objectives and their achievements several times on his way here. Unfortunately there were scant material gains to prove their success, at least not that he had been permitted to catalog. ¡°All of our primary objectives were accomplished with no losses,¡± Mask said. ¡°The location and identity of our assets remains unknown, despite several security risks that will need to be resolved.¡± He was thinking of several bad habits that the crew had developed, although he felt a twinge of disappointment when the woman refused to take the bait. ¡°And as for our secondary objectives?¡± she prompted. ¡°Mixed results,¡± Mask said. ¡°Our newest asset triggered an alarm while accessing Baron Ore¡¯s safe.¡± ¡°And yet all primary objectives had been accomplished,¡± the woman said, tapping her chin. ¡°She managed to gain access regardless?¡± ¡°Correct. The asset exploited unknown means to crack the safe and secure its contents.¡± Again, he laid bait. And again, it was left ignored. ¡°Which of the secondary objectives were failed?¡± the woman asked, instead of requiring of withheld capabilities from their newest asset. The woman continued, ¡°From the rumors spreading, the baron suffered much embarrassment. From the deaths alone, I expect a certain amount of instability to result.¡± ¡°That is true,¡± Mask admitted. ¡°The newest asset was quite effective at stirring the pot. Much more so than any of us anticipated.¡± After allowing the observation to settle, Mask offered another supposition without prompt. ¡°It could be argued that she succeeded too well. A larger target has been set upon her as a result. This will make future operations more difficult.¡± Whe woman waved the concern off. ¡°That was always to be the case. An artifact such as a Grimoire cannot be stolen without raising significant ire¡­¡± she paused, a hint of worry seeping into her voice. ¡°There was a Grimoire recovered?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Mask said, before adding a caveat. ¡°My inspection was brief, but I observed this is either a convincing forgery or a genuine article.¡± ¡°Do you doubt that this was our target?¡± she asked for his professional opinion on whether the baron had duped the team or if the baron had perhaps been duped himself. ¡°If it is a forgery, which I find unlikely, then I doubt it was planted by the baron.¡± ¡°I am of a similar opinion,¡± the woman said. ¡°The man is a horrid actor and all reports show him as livid regarding the loss.¡± ¡°Then it is likely genuine,¡± Mask said. The topic was near enough to one of his greater concerns that he broached the next topic. ¡°Should the Grimoire be spent so frivolously?¡± Mask asked with perhaps a touch of unfeigned concern, though even he was unsure if that was what he felt. ¡°The asset, Jackie of no-surname, was promised it as payment,¡± the woman stated. ¡°According to Belobog, that was the asset¡¯s primary motivation in joining the team and for performing this job.¡± ¡°Correct,¡± Mask affirmed. ¡°Then, you are suggesting we remove the asset from play?¡± Mask shrugged slightly. ¡°I suggest we consider doing so, at the very least,¡± he said. The woman mused, but not for an overly long time. She snapped her fingers and made a decision of sorts. ¡°Then consider it we shall,¡± she said. ¡°Though I expect a decision and action would be required promptly, if we do decide to remove it altogether.¡± Mask affirmed her assumption and added additional confirmation verbally. ¡°She would not have used the artifact yet, but likely within the next several hours.¡± ¡°Then such considerations would not be entirely without merit, I suppose,¡± she said. ¡°Very well, state your reasoning.¡± Mask kept emotion from his voice as he quickly stated his reasons. To him, it was just good business. ¡°The movement could put such a Grimoire to good use elsewhere. While our newest asset is competent, her short to mid-term value is much less than the worth of the Grimoire. Were we to remove the Grimoire from play, then we would necessitate the removal of our newest asset. As quite a few enemies were made tonight, I expect additional value could be derived from spending the asset as a balm to soothe burnt aristocrats.¡± ¡°What of the asset¡¯s value?¡± the woman asked. ¡°The assistance of a capable infiltrator, thief, and possible assassin would be a great boon.¡± ¡°Are any missions slated for the next several weeks?¡± Mask asked, already knowing the answer. The woman¡¯s eyes narrowed and her lips likely pursed beneath her scarf. ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°Orders are to remain low and to make little to no waves.¡± ¡°Then what value would the asset have, except in the long term? Will we still have the asset¡¯s loyalty at that time?¡± ¡°From what we know?¡± she asked. ¡°Yes, I believe so.¡± ¡°Those files need to be appended,¡± Mask stated somewhat abruptly. ¡°Is this relevant?¡± the woman asked with a cautious voice that sounded a touch weary. ¡°Perhaps,¡± Mask said. ¡°The asset is not human.¡± ¡°Deviant, then?¡± the woman asked. ¡°No¡­¡± Mask trailed off. ¡°I am unsure of what nature asset is exactly, but it seems to be some nature of beast.¡± The woman exhaled, deflating slightly. ¡°This is a detail that should have been caught earlier. How was this missed for so long?¡± ¡°A competent disguise or illusion,¡± Mask theorized. ¡°LIkely, she has received a Spell at some point.¡± ¡°Another Grimoire?¡± she asked. Her voice sounded slightly incredulous. ¡°Unknown,¡± Mask stated. ¡°This is a somewhat pertinent detail, indeed,¡± the woman said, finally aligning with Mask¡¯s own thoughts. ¡°Exactly,¡± Mask said. ¡°It would be possible for the asset to escape our grasp with little planning or forethought.¡± ¡°That is one possible perspective,¡± the woman said. Mask tilted his head slightly, making an effort of demonstrating his confusion. ¡°I take it that you disagree?¡± ¡°Only somewhat,¡± the woman said. ¡°I agree that she could escape our grasp easily, but this is due to her ability and competence. This has only increased her value to our organization. I can imagine great use of such a person in the future. Her loyalty is to be secured, not spurned.¡± Mask deflated slightly. ¡°Then, it shall be done,¡± he said. ¡°Excellent. She will fit in well with that team, considering its constituency. If additional incentives are required, request them with haste.¡± ¡°Noted.¡± ¡°With considerations closed, which secondary objectives failed?¡± ¡°Less wealth was taken than expected,¡± Mask said. ¡°Drastic?¡± ¡°Only the one safe was breached. None of the secondary targets were taken.¡± ¡°I imagine our asset was in something of a hurry after the alarm sounded,¡± the woman said, tapping her chin. Her tone was not amused, but it was leaning that way. ¡°Was this a point of contention with the team?¡± ¡°It was, yes.¡± ¡°And?¡± she prompted. ¡°Resolved internally.¡± ¡°Good. Very good,¡± the woman said. Her voice made it sound as though she were now smiling. She likely was musing all of the benefits that would be derived from the evening¡¯s events, and Mask was content enough to remain silent himself. After some time, the woman began filling in Mask on some of the potentially relevant context. While this was largely unnecessary, it showed a certain amount of trust. That Mask knew she was sharing largely to improve rapport between him and her was immaterial to the woman. Mask mused that it was always possible that she had failed to perceive his apathetic profile, but he doubted her skill to be so lacking. And besides, sometimes the context would become relevant. ¡°Baron Ore has sent demands for every establishment to be turned over, from the least hovel to the most influential mansion. He even included Princess Marissa in his initial demands. After some less than gentle protest, his demands were scaled down. Additionally, he lacks the manpower to perform his desired search. His men know it. He ought to know it. The fact that his men will likely choose not to fully implement his orders but claim that they did will likely further ruin his reputation.¡± ¡°And the rumors spreading about Princess Marisssa! Did our asset encounter her?¡± Mask¡¯s eyes widened a fraction. ¡°I am unsure. Why?¡± ¡°She apparently helped pursue the thief. In her pursuit, she killed and wounded several of the baron¡¯s staff.¡± ¡°Jackie did?¡± ¡°No, the princess. From the rumors, her intervention in the matter was largely incendiary.¡± ¡°Do we know her angle?¡± ¡°We are not yet sure, but she is likely readying for her own takeover.¡± ¡°I see. Has the baron withdrawn from the centennial games?¡± Mask asked, curious. ¡°No, not as of yet, at least so far as we have determined,¡± the woman answered. ¡°If he plans on continuing, then I am interested to discover what incentives he plans on using.¡± The woman huffed a faint laugh. ¡°I am certain that your crew of thieves is as well,¡± the woman said, clearly amused this time. ¡°When we know more, likely another job will be scheduled.¡± As this became something closer to a discussion between equals, Mask allowed himself to slip perhaps a bit too far towards the casual end of the spectrum. ¡°I am concerned though,¡± he said. ¡°Are we not weighing the scales too heavily in Princess Marissa¡¯s direction?¡± The woman scoffed. ¡°So long as the city fails in the games, we remain indifferent to the city¡¯s political climate.¡± ¡°Even if she¨C¡± Mask began, although the woman cut him off, reminding him of the differences in station. ¡°-I will not be going into speculative details regarding Kwin Red,¡± she snapped. ¡°You know this.¡± ¡°I suppose I do,¡± Mask said with a neutral tone. After some further discussion, Mask raised his final concern. ¡°Without any immediate tasks, it is possible that the team¡¯s skills and cohesion will worsen.¡± The woman stood from her seat as he mentioned this, although she appeared unbothered in the slightest. ¡°And yet, further stirring the kettle at this time will harm our efforts more than aid. The guidance remains.¡± ¡°How then, should I keep the team occupied?¡± Mask asked, privately doubting that the organization would grant him any immediate solution, but going through the efforts to voice his complaints all the same in the hopes of better future treatment. The woman clicked her tongue. ¡°I trust that you will strive to find a way,¡± the woman said, turning back to her still unclosed entrance. Absorption 2.5.X.2 Kate bounced on her toes. Up and down, up, down, up¡­ over and over again. Her entire body felt amazingly light and controlled. On a bounce up she halted her momentum instantaneously and pivoted an inch before reversing, then back to finish the up before resuming the down and up once more and she loved it! Her latest Mark added so much that she just wished she had gotten it months earlier in Bath instead of being forced to wait because of¨Cugh¨Cevents. Whatever, she thought. If those events ever replayed themselves, they would find her prepared to dole out an immense amount of carnage and glory. Just thinking about it got her blood pumping and eyeing those nearest her to see if they could pose an immediate challenge. Unfortunately, not. Both because they were all weaklings, and also because she would probably get yelled at. And also, it would probably ruin her appetite for later that night. it was just¡­ waiting was hard! So, so boring! She groaned and deflated against the wooden panels, glancing across the tavern with impatient disinterest. She had been waiting for what felt like hours. This had been a long time coming, with some uncharacteristic planning on her part, but finally it was here. There were no classes the next day, she had made sure that both of their schedules were cleared, which meant that Kate had to ask that one lady which was surprisingly intimidating for being so old and fat. Despite these challenges in setting everything up, Kate had persevered! Everything for the sake of conquest. But then when the hour finally came, when Kate had swung by in the late afternoon to grab Jackie, Kate learned that Jackie was ¡®indisposed.¡¯ What in the godslicking name did that even mean?! Just thinking about it left Kate itching for a rumble, even more than was usual. After what felt like forever, but what might have actually only been fifteen minutes, there was movement. And the movement was not from another worthless day-drinking lout or some dumb kid. No, the movement came from a short blue haired girl returning to the tavern floor from the back service entrance, the one the workers here used to scurry about away from the public eye. Disappointingly, Jackie was not accompanying the blue haired tike down. Kate met eyes with the other girl. The other girl winced apologetically. Kate squinted, hand itching for the hilt of her trusted bastard of a blade. The other girl¡¯s eyes widened in shock, and she rushed towards Kate, dodging several grabby and gross old men to do so. ¡°Well?¡± Kate asked as the other girl, Kate thought she was named Mari-something-or-other, came within an easy speaking condition. ¡°She¡¯s¡­ Ah, well, she¡¯s still¨C¡± ¡°Where¡¯s she at?¡± Kate demanded, making a show of looking around the Mari-girl as though to look behind her, even though Kate stood tall enough to peer over Mari¡¯s head. ¡°She¡¯s¨Cah¡­ getting ready?¡± Mari said, blushing and averting her gaze. The failure to make eye-contact implied weakness. Possibly deceit. If Mari¡¯s hands were twitching towards something out of sight, then Kate would have intervened bodily. However, Mari¡¯s hands remained in plain sight. It was probably nothing, just embarrassment, Kate decided. Which brought another concern to the forefront of Kate¡¯s mind. ¡°Why aren¡¯t you sure of your answer?¡± Kate demanded more than asked. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­¡± Mari trailed off, shuffling her feet. Kate¡¯s glare hastened the eventual response, if belatedly. ¡°She was still sleeping when I went to get her,¡± Mari finished. Kate¡¯s frown deepened as she thought about it. She had known of course that Jackie enjoyed sleeping in, and that Jackie worked later hours than just about anyone else Kate knew¡­ but to still be sleeping? It was approaching evening hours. The fact Jackie was still sleeping was suspicious. Either something was wrong, or something was wrong, Kate decided. ¡°Jackie¡¯s not sick, yeah?¡± Kate asked. ¡°No?¡± Mari said, before correcting herself and firming her spine some. ¡°I mean, I don¡¯t think so. She seemed hale. Just, tired, I guess? Or¡­¡± ¡°Or?¡± Kate repeated. ¡°I think maybe Jackie just wanted to be all rested up proper for whatever you¡¯ve planned for tonight?¡± Kate liked the sound of that. It made sense. Jackie would want to be rested for what Kate had planned. It still seemed dumb to be sleeping so late, but maybe it was somewhat reasonable. Reasonable enough that Kate could let it slide. That was, assuming Jackie made her way down sooner rather than later. If Kate had to go upstairs to get her, there was no guarantee that they would be coming back down anytime soon, and they might miss the festivities as a result. Without realizing it, Kate cracked her knuckles one by one as she thought. ¡°By the way,¡± Mari said, interrupting Kate¡¯s thoughts, ¡°Just what are you planning for the evening?¡± Why was the girl prying up into Kate¡¯s business? ¡°Why you asking?¡± Kate demanded with a sudden suspicion. ¡°Ah¡­ just¡­ well you know, curiosity, I guess.¡± Kate scoffed, dismissing the girl from her mind. If Mari wanted to know, ¡°Then you¡¯ll have to ask Jackie when she gets her sweet¨C¡± Kate started but cut herself off when she saw the familiar lilac breach the very same service entrance that Mari had entered through moments earlier. Of course, there was only one person Kate had ever met with lilac hair. Well, two, if animals counted. But they did not. Kate was specifically not thinking about that particular indiscretion. She had never been so sore in her life after Kate¡¯s mother found out about that ¡®perversion.¡¯ Kate shuddered and shoved all of that into a small and cramped corner in the back of her mind, instead turning her attention to an acceptable target. ¡°-Finally!¡± Kate shouted, earning the ire of several tavern residents, all of which Kate naturally ignored. ¡°Where in the godsloving-time¡¯ve you been?! I have¡­ I have half a¡­¡± Kate started to trail off on her chastisement as she met Jackie¡¯s cyan eyes and almost grew mesmerized then and there. Nobody else she knew had such bright eyes, especially not that color. And her hair seemed so silky and bouncy and exotic that Kate could only ever barely resist running her calloused fingers through it. But resisted Kate did, for her willpower was immense, or so she was told. Finally, Kate and Jackie met, nearer the front than the back of the tavern floor. Not too far away from them, there were two overly loud men playing some form of drinking game that Kate would have to remember for later. But then Kate re-focused on Jackie, and Jackie was focused upon Kate, tilting her beautiful head to the side ever so slightly. That porcelain mask of a face was betraying nothing, and Kate loved it! It was perfect! Alabaster! Or¡­ or something like that, Kate decided. No matter what she called it, Jackie was looking fine. It was then that Jackie¡¯s sharp cheeks colored just slightly, almost imperceptible, were it not for Kate¡¯s enhanced senses. But there it was! A blush! Jackie was blushing because of Kate! Surely, that was a good sign. It had to be. Kate smiled radiantly. ¡°Sir Gaurdson,¡± Jackie started far too formally for Kate¡¯s own taste. ¡°I had not realized we had an engagement this evening, otherwise I would not have been so uncouth to allow you to languish as you awaited. My sincerest apologies,¡± Jackie finished with a slight bow. This girl! Kate had heard others with silver tongues like that before, and they were either high end courtiers or were adjacent in some way to the aristocracy. Given Jackie¡¯s everything, Kate assumed the girl had either run-away or was otherwise a disowned daughter. Especially since the girl was working in a tavern. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Kate said, belatedly, after Jackie had been waiting several long seconds. ¡°That was maybe on me?¡± Kate asked, pausing to think, before continuing, ¡°though I coulda sworn I mentioned it.¡± ¡°Perhaps you did,¡± Jackie said graciously. ¡°My own recollections are hardly perfect. This troubling lapse aside, to what do I owe this visit?¡± ¡°How about you and I talk about it on our way out?¡± Kate said as she began smirking, just slightly though. Jackie opened her mouth slightly before shutting it again. Speechless, then. That was a good reaction, Kate thought. ¡°Just make sure you¡¯re wearing something comfortable. Oh!¡± Kate said, snapping her fingers. ¡°And make sure to bring your battle-ribbon-thingie!¡± Jackie¡¯s doll-like face cracked with a frown. In fact, Mari was frowning too! What was Mari eavesdropping for, and why were the two of them trying to gang up on Kate? Did they think they could both take her? Before Kate could issue her challenge, Jackie hurried to explain her unease. ¡°I am to bring my urumi?¡± Jackie asked, using an unfamiliar term that might have been that cool weapon dancers used to show off their moves. Probably the same thing, Kate decided. ¡°Yep!¡± Kate said, ¡°That! But! Make sure it¡¯s the real thing, not the one for sparring. Ya know?¡± ¡°Sir Kate,¡± Jackie said awkwardly. ¡°I am unsure of your reasoning in this, but my unease is growing in regards to this evening. Just what is on our agenda?¡± Ha! As if Kate would just up and say it like that. ¡°Nah, it¡¯s a surprise,¡± Kate said, once again bouncing upon her toes. ¡°Just go get it.¡± Jackie, despite her hesitations, did as she was told. She was a good girl like that. Kate managed to keep their plans for that evening a surprise, even as she led with her arm linked with Jackie¡¯s non-deviant arm. They descended Blossom Hill, passed through both the Merc and the Mercantile Quarters, until reaching the divide, the sunken road that cut Southbridge in two. But, it was as they crossed a bridge towards the slums that Jackie pulled away, slipping Kate¡¯s grasp. ¡°This¡­¡± Jackie said slowly, as though unsure of her own words. Kate turned to face her. ¡°What¨Cor rather, why¨Cyes, why¨Cwhy are you leading me here?¡± Jackie finished with a rather suspicious tone. Not that Kate blamed the girl. Afterall, the slums were hardly a fun place to just wander in. It was dirty and reeked and was full of gross stuff in general. Plus, for most people, it was dangerous too! Well, the last was part of the charm, or so Kate thought. Of course, while Kate might have understood where Jackie was coming from, that hardly meant Kate was willing to ruin it by telling. So instead, Kate said, ¡°It¡¯s a surprise!¡± Jackie¡¯s cyan eyes dimmed just slightly in response. She seemed to be weighing her words heavily before speaking them. They were rather unfortunate, so Kate could see why Jackie was picking her words carefully. ¡°I am unsure that I can continue following you into such a neighborhood under such a pretense.¡± Kate scoffed. That was what Jackie had gone with? Kate thought, some irritation leaking. Enough so that Kate countered somewhat aggressively. ¡°What,¡± Kate said. ¡°You think I can¡¯t protect you? That I¡¯m weak? You know that¡¯s not the case.¡± But if Kate knew that Jackie knew that Kate was good for a fight, then could Kate really get upset over the perceived slight? She ended up deciding maybe. Of course, Jackie had to respond to the perceived slight to address Kate¡¯s ruffled feathers. ¡°No,¡± Jackie spoke cautiously. ¡°Not that. But the very fact that I may require defending is concerning, and an attack upon our persons is not only possible, but also likely. With such a cost, I must inquire upon the benefits of allowing you to lead me across this bridge.¡±Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Kate paused to think while she scratched her chin. She felt unsure if Jackie was speaking from serious concern here, which was strange, or if Jackie was attempting one of those romantic ploys that Kate had heard about from her aunt. In the end, Kate decided that she had no idea what was going through Jackie¡¯s head and that Kate¡¯s best possible course of action was to just push through. Finally Kate sighed, trying for a middle ground to keep the ball moving forward. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll tell you this much: it¡¯s a date,¡± Kate said with a shrug, reaching forward slowly to once again grab Jackie¡¯s elbow and link arms. However, despite Kate¡¯s longer reach, Jackie pivoted just enough to keep her arm out of reach. Not that Jackie could have really stopped Kate had Kate really wanted to grab to connect. But dates were supposed to be friendlier than that. ¡°A date in the slums?¡± Jackie asked, her incredulity breaking the facade of proper speech. ¡°Uh¡­ yeah?¡± Kate answered, feigning confusion. Jackie deflated slightly. ¡°What destination could be worth traveling through¨C¡± Jackie nodded towards the dilapidated tenement buildings ¡°-in there? It is hardly the go-to destination for those of your class¡­ or mine, for that matter.¡± Kate smirked. If only Jackie knew the things people of Kate¡¯s class got up to. It was almost worth a chuckle. But tabling that rogue thought, Kate explained in what she hoped was a frustratingly uninformitave answer. ¡°Well, there¡¯s the Pits,¡± Kate said. Jackie remained unaffected by the answer, either failing to recognize the destination, which was unlikely, or not connecting it with Kate¡¯s agenda. Kate¡¯s smile grew just slightly as Jackie deflated further with a sigh and a very slight furrow of her brows. ¡°Of course,¡± Jackie said. ¡°As per your tendencies, of course your planned festivities would center upon blood sports.¡± ¡°Yep,¡± Kate said, maybe popping the ¡®p¡¯ like she had heard others her age do. She decided that she liked the slight flinch it caused in Jackie. Maybe Kate would do that more often. After another few seconds, the both of them had begun obstructing enough traffic along the narrow footbridge to become an issue, and there were several irritated shouts from further away, from those that could not yet see the tall girl with the bastard sword. Kate let that particular offense slide. Besides, she had places to be. ¡°So, are we gonna keep moving, or¡­¡± Kate trailed off. Jackie had probably noticed that they were holding up traffic as well. Not that it should matter. Honestly, almost everyone else crossing the bridge lacked a single grain of value, and they were probably all awful at fighting as well, so not even worthwhile in that regard either. If Kate was not heading off to somewhere else, if she had not had better things to do with her time, Kate might have just held up traffic for the point of it. However, Kate did have places to be. And so, with Jackie¡¯s consent, which was communicated by Jackie ceasing her efforts to dodge, Kate re-linked arms and began leading them once more. ¡°Then I suppose that this is acceptable,¡± Jackie said. ¡°Lead the way.¡± For some reason, Jackie¡¯s voice was not nearly as enthusiastic as Kate felt it should have been. They crossed into the slums. Kate did get to scratch the itch, at least a little bit. On the way through the slums, a small dirty child tried pickpocketing them. Or at least Kate had thought so. She was hardly able to ask the kid now. But if he was completely innocent then he would have looked less suspicious. Kate was cleaning her bastard sword on the kid¡¯s nasty rags when she caught Jackie avert her gaze to their surroundings. If it had been less of a sudden motion, then Kate would have thought nothing of it. Afterall, it was best practice to keep at least one person on watch. In the end though, Kate decided to think nothing more of it. Likely, Jackie was worried there were other threats lurking nearby, or possibly a retaliatory action in the works. Though, Kate considered mentioning her experience that the slums¡¯ residents usually left her alone after the first example. She decided to avoid lessening Jackie¡¯s guard. Afterall, Kate had seen some problems in the work, problems that would hopefully be addressed rather soon. Such as the Garnets Crewmembers that they had passed had been looking a bit more sketchy than normal. These were her thoughts until she finished cleaning her blade, or rather, finished smearing the blood off. She stood and inspected her blade in what little light filtered through the claustrophobic street. The results of her efforts were lacking. ¡°Does this blade look dirtier than when I started?¡± Kate asked, drawing Jackie¡¯s attention away from their surroundings. Jackie frowned just slightly, almost imperceptibly, but Kate had good eyes. Jackie thought the blade was still gross too. She must have. Ugh. Kate groaned internally. Why had she forgotten to bring a felt cloth? ¡°I believe that this is perhaps the case,¡± Jackie answered, confirming Kate¡¯s fears. ¡°A pain,¡± Kate complained, making a mental note to give her sword a proper oiling later and slid it back in its scabbard. She then resumed her position beside Jackie and gently began pulling her forward once more. Unfortunately, a metaphorical distance seemed to have grown between the two girls. Kate blamed the thief for spoiling their mood. She decided that the best way to resolve this was to be blunt and direct. ¡°What¡¯s bothering you?¡± Kate asked. ¡°It is not so easily said,¡± Jackie said, strangely enough making the claim that she lacked the words. Considering her usual silver tongue, Kate thought that it might have been a lie. Kate considered some of the Marks that could reveal deceits, but that was really meant more for investigative work than what she was interested in herself. ¡°It was the dead kid, wasn¡¯t it?¡± Kate asked somewhat pointedly. Jackie¡¯s breath hitched slightly and she nodded. Kate groaned. ¡°I didn¡¯t think seeing that sort of thing would bother you.¡± Jackie glanced away, towards some of the more descriptive graffiti nearby. Kate was about to tell Jackie about why she needed to get over it, when Jackie finally responded with something usable. ¡°The waif was certainly jarring to behold in such a state,¡± Jackie admitted. ¡°But that is not the only reason for my current disquiet.¡± ¡°Uh. What?¡± She nodded at a few men lurking in the shadows of a nearby building. ¡°We have been tailed the last several blocks by who I suspect are members of the Garnets.¡± So Jackie had seen them. Good. Kate would have thought less of the girl if she had missed them. ¡°If those cowards think they can hurt us they¡¯re welcome to try,¡± Kate spoke loudly for the benefit of everyone else on the street. A few more steps and Kate saw Jackie¡¯s lips twitch slightly, an almost smile. Kate grinned at the success. A few steps further, andjackie patted Kate on the shoulder. ¡°Your boldness is endearing,¡± Jackie said. ¡°I know, right?¡± They were nearing the Pits. It was one of the busy nights at the end of the week, when the floor was allowed to be challenged by the next crew on the schedule. These nights were always the bloodiest as the last crew traded out their stock of fighters in the case that they lost the challenge, which they likely would. There were a lot of calculations and numbers and stuff that went into it, at least according to the bookies. All of it was kinda boring, at least according to Kate. As they neared, the streets began widening and the buildings began improving in quality, if slightly. The volume of the Pits could be heard, along with the hawkers and the bookies and the vendors, plus the people actually watching a fight. It was loud. It was crowded. Kate loved it. Her grin grew wider and wider every time they passed another intersection. After one particularly loud retort, Kate glanced towards her date to see if Jackie was enjoying the anticipation as much as Kate was. Unfortunately, Kate saw that Jackie was grimacing. That was not the appropriate reaction that Kate had expected. After seeing that, a part of Kate wanted to let things continue as they were. Afterall, she was sure that Jackie would warm up sooner or later, everyone did. It would be hard not to get her blood pumping when things started. But then again, Kate thought that maybe she should make sure her date was having a good time to start things off. She clenched her jaw slightly, narrowed her eyes, then straightened up and came to a decision. It was probably just the volume that was bothering the other girl. And to be fair, it was quite loud. Kate decided that what Jackie needed was a distraction. Kate bumped Jackie in the side, drawing the girl¡¯s attention once more and sent her a hopefully endearing smile. ¡°Excited, yeah?¡± Kate asked leadingly. Jackie pursed her lips in what might have been confusion before smiling herself, although it may have been slightly strained. ¡°This will be my first time attending,¡± Jackie admitted. ¡°I had not expected such¡­ volume.¡± Jackie finished, as though trying to select the best word for the boisterous surroundings. ¡°Yeah¡­ it can get a bit rowdy. Great, right?¡± Jackie nodded slowly. ¡°Indeed. Though I find the experience deafening. Are you quite sure that this is safe?¡± Kate scoffed. As if Kate were unable to protect them against some un-enhanced nobodies. Rather than showing her offense at the question, Kate gave a terse reply. ¡°Yeah. We¡¯ll be safe. Promise.¡± ¡°Very well,¡± Jackie said. ¡°I am in your hands¡­¡± the other girl trailed off as the narrow streets opened up and as the Pits came into view. Well, they sort of came into view, at least. On the other side of the divide, the open space would have been a large square, full of merchants, street performers, Knights, and the Crown knew what else. But here? Here it was a little bit different. A lot of bit different. For starters, the space was recessed, dropping hundreds of yards at an intimidating slope until reaching the flat and graveled bottom where debris littered and stains colored. All the walls of the pit were lined with benches chiseled into the stone itself, with stairs running haphazardly at uneven angles and inconsistent heights. None of the work was professionally leveled. In fact, it was filthy and amateurish and it was a marvel everytime a night passed without an accident sending somebody tumbling down in a cascade of scum and trash. Of course, not all of the seating was so poorly done. The Pit Crews each manned their own corner of the space, making the Pits one of the few neutral areas in the Slums. Well, not neutral, exactly. More of a bigger player enforcing a truce to keep the fights profitable. That, and the Skingineer keeping her operations nearby. Nobody wanted her to have a reason to intervene. Just thinking about some of the horror stories Kate had heard from the Low Knights left Kate almost shuddering. That girl had some crazy ideas. Jackie, meanwhile, had been taking in the scene as they came to the lip of the Pits where an impromptu railing had been created from broken carts and old barrels. Not enough of an obstacle to keep the Pits and all their messy glory from view. Of course, Jackie had trailed off, lost in the sight of the spectacle. ¡°But, yeah¡­ it¡¯s pretty great,¡± Kate said as she reached over and pushed Jackie¡¯s mouth shut. Jackie nodded wordlessly. During Kate¡¯s first time here at the Pits, she had about a similar reaction, if more violent. The memory of that left Kate smirking. She continued dragging Jackie towards one of the neutral spectating booths. It might have been more difficult reaching the booth if not for the fact that Kate easily dwarfed most everyone else, that, and her enhanced body, meant that the press of bodies parted around her, voluntarily or not. The latter method was her personal favorite. Soon, they came near enough the entrance to the wealthier spectating area that the guards of whatever gang controlled the Pits came into play. And while the guards here were hardly Knights, in fact, they were just a bit better than the average Crewmember, it was enough to keep the worst of the riff-raff at bay. Of course as Kate and Jackie entered the controlled area, still up on the rim of the Pits, they were glanced over by one of the chiefs or whatever else they called themselves. And of course, other than a quick examination, Kate was let through without hassle. And since Jackie was with her, she also received preferential treatment. They reached a private set of stairs which jutted out a ways from the walls of the pit, giving a feeling of superiority over the benches hugging the walls of the pits. It also meant that everyone sitting on these upper benches could watch their betters descend to the booths. But before Kate could descend, she had to be greeted by a relatively clean and well dressed attendant. A female with fairly exotic blonde hair and gray eyes. Likely, the gangs poached her from some whorehouse or other. If Kate were a different sort of girl, she might have tried taking advantage of the attendant. But with Jackie there, it would have been rude. ¡°Is that Sir Guardson?¡± the attendant asked, a cloying smile and a submissive tilt to her back. From Kate¡¯s vantage the woman¡¯s cleavage was visible and a pleasant distraction from the rest of the slums. ¡°Yes, I would recognize you from anywhere. What brings you to grace our humble establishment, viewing or participating yourself?¡± Jackie twitched slightly, but Kate paid that no mind. Likely, Jackie was enjoying the view as well. Although from Jackie¡¯s diminutive height she likely was afforded less of a welcome sight. That, and the fact that Jackie likely came across much better and much more frequently with where she lived and all. Honestly, Kate was somewhat envious of the girl¡¯s living conditions. The attendant remained smiling, although it grew somewhat strained as the seconds passed by before Kate remembered to answer. ¡°Maybe a bit of both, but it depends on who¡¯s running the games today,¡± Kate both answered and asked at the same time. ¡°This last week was graced by the Opals, and as turnover comes today, we will see a challenge from the Garnets¡­¡± Once again, Jackie twitched, although this time at the mention of the Garnets. Kate, meanwhile, nodded. This was what she had been expecting. ¡°Will the floor be open for volunteer challengers?¡± Kate asked, making sure that none of the scarier residents would take issue with anything that Kate had planned. Not that she had to really worry about that sort of reaction, but even her mother would be loath to make needless enemies. ¡°For the right challenger¨C¡± the attendant gave a playful smile while she made a show of tapping her lips as though in thought ¡°-I believe the boss would accept it.¡± Kate smirked and eyed the attendant in a discreetly appreciative manner. ¡°And would I be the right sort?¡± Kate asked, already knowing the answer. ¡°I¡¯ll send a runner to check, but I would not be surprised if you were permitted to¡­ play. Although the standard cautions must be reminded¨C¡± ¡°-but yeah, I get it,¡± Kate interrupted. ¡°Fighting in the Pits is ¡®dangerous¡¯ and participants engage at their own peril. It¡¯s fine. Nothing¡¯s going to happen anyways.¡± From the corner of Kate¡¯s eyes, she saw Jackie giving Kate a somewhat surprised and worried expression, not that Jackie¡¯s face was ever expressive to begin with. But the hint of the emotion was there. Kate¡¯s lips curled up in a slight smile. It was good to keep a date off balance, she thought. ¡°Then,¡± the attendant said, stepping aside and bowing at the waist. ¡°I welcome you to the show.¡± Kate once more led the way, pulling Jackie behind her as they descended the elevated stairs towards a wooden platform and booths, almost seeming to float above the rest of the rabble. It was as they descended, Kate leading the way as always and hence roughly the same height as Jackie, that Kate heard Jackie speak in a quiet voice in a manner perhaps not meant to be overheard, yet heard all the same. ¡°Concerning,¡± Jackie said in that low voice. Rather than respond, Kate opened the door to the booth and her grin grew all the wider as she took it in with Jackie just behind her. Several of the booth¡¯s occupants glanced their way, although other than a cursory acknowledgement, the others provided no further interaction. Which was for the best. Because while the other viewers may have worn better cut clothes which were mostly clean, they were still several steps below Kate, at least socially speaking. Rather than interact with her lessers, Kate waved down the bartender at the back of the booth, ordered two drinks of the better stock, and grabbed Jackie by the waist and hugged her close to Kate¡¯s side as she stepped up to the balcony, alongside the others. The fights below had yet to really hit their stride, but some blood had still been shed, by the time the bartender brought the liquor out. Kate took both of them, despite the expectant look that Jackie gave the second drink. Kate rolled her eyes. ¡°You¡¯ll get yours, but just a sec.¡± Kate held both drinks to her nose, sniffing each time, examining the subtleties hidden beneath the caustic burn of the fumes. After several heartbeats, she had satisfied herself and handed the second drink to Jackie. ¡°Just checking. Ya know. Precautions and all that.¡± Several of the others alongside the railing glanced Kate¡¯s way but they all quickly averted their eyes before Kate could give them a non-verbal chastising. The threats went unnoticed by Jackie as she took the drink and gave it a curious sniff of her own. Her eyes widened and almost seemed to sparkle. ¡°Strong, right?¡± Kate said, amused by the reaction. Of course, the girl with a hollow leg would be all about whatever this place bottled. ¡°Indeed,¡± Jackie said, holding her glass tumbler out towards Kate. Kate canted her head, somewhat confused, wondering if Jackie wanted Kate to perform a taste test as well. Instead, Jackie scoffed and tapped her tumbler against Kate¡¯s own. ¡°Cheers,¡± Jackie said dryly. Kate chuckled. ¡°Cheers back at ya,¡± she said. ¡°Though I don¡¯t think this is the place to toast.¡± ¡°No,¡± Jackie said with a dry tone. ¡°I imagine not.¡± Absorption 2.5.X.3 Absorption 2.5.X.3 ¡°-you know Jan,¡± one of the announcers¡¯ voices buzzed through the Pit. ¡°I hadn¡¯t thought the Opals would be into that sort of thing-¡± ¡°-ha! Too right you are, Jen,¡± the second announcer, named Jan, said, laughing obnoxiously enough that the artificed relay picked itself up and led to an irritating screech before cutting off abruptly. ¡°-sorry about that folks,¡± the first speaker, Jen, said. ¡°Seems we¡¯re still working out some of the technical difficulties. How about we give a discount on the next round of drinks? Brought to you lovely dregs, courtesy of the one, the only, SKINGINEER!-¡± The crowd roared in approval at the discounted drinks. They probably would have roared no matter what had been offered though. The Pit was the one ray of goodness in their lives and it would have been hard to ruin the event for them. So long as there was an event of some kind. Pathetic. Kate tried her best to tune them all out, especially the announcers, Jen and Jan both. The voices were less bothersome from where she and Jackie watched, as the booths were at least partially insulated from the relay of artificed noise-makers. However, the two announcers, especially Jan, spoke with a grating nasally tone that left Kate eager to punch something. Much less odious was the crowd¡¯s cheers washed over the balcony where Kate and Jackie observed, Kate with her arms crossed over the side, resting against the edge whilst holding her drink, while Jackie remained somewhat anxious. The two girls stood side by side, mere inches apart. Kate felt the warmth radiating off of the other girl, and Kate felt a mix of warring emotions. She wished she was holding the other girl, and had fantasized about doing so, at least by this point in their date. However, rather than listening to the bolder thoughts, her attention had been split enough between both Jackie and the slaughter in the arena down below, that she was having difficulties in committing to even the simple action of placing her arm around the lesser girl. ¡°-oof, that¡¯s a big oof, Jan-¡± ¡°-I wouldn¡¯t be so sure about that, Jen. Weren¡¯t we just talking about redecorating the place?-¡± ¡°-suppose that¡¯s true, but I had thought of maybe something a bit less macabre?-¡± ¡°-Ha! Well. Maybe. Let¡¯s ask our wonderful audience their thoughts on the new paint-job¡­ and streamers? Banners? What¡¯s the word for those little colorful flags that hang from string, Jen?-¡± ¡°-you know, I hadn¡¯t ever wondered about that. I know what you¡¯re talking about though, and I¡¯m not entirely sure that this counts-¡± ¡°-puhlease! It might be a little crude, but I think it¡¯s a bit endearing. Besides, what more could you expect from that little Meohr?-¡± ¡°...that¡¯s true, I guess¡­ What does the audience think? Three cheers for keeping the decorations till tomorrow?¡± The crowd roared while Kate tried her best to tune everything else out. Kate was trying to think here. She supposed that even if the embrace was put off, that they would still reach that point soon anyways. Why would it matter if Kate rushed the embrace now, versus after the entertainment ended? Kate decided to focus on the fights below¨Cif a fight it could even be called. One of the more recent combatants had just suffered disembowelment, leaving a mess on the field and the surrounding walls. She was unsure if she would have ever considered the sloppily hanging strands of intestines to be decoration, but to each their own, she supposed. Kate could almost smell the gore from her vantage point, even above the overpowering aroma of the unwashed masses. Another of the ¡®fighters¡¯ fell with a pained shriek. Kate inhaled all of it, feeling her own veins heat. Messy. Chaotic. Fluid. She exhaled heavily in contentment before remembering to check on how her date was faring. A side glance revealed Jackie to be largely indifferent. Kate¡¯s brow furrowed just slightly. Jackie¡¯s lack of reaction was somewhat dampening for Kate, but it was hardly enough to completely overwhelm the prospect of bloodshed. Movement from the pit below caused Kate to refocus in time to see a scarred and partially lamed Meohr roared once more, tossing its head and flinging a less able fighter off from its horns. Blood trailed in the man¡¯s wake, causing a glory-filled rain to patter down across the Meohr¡¯s face. ¡°-I think that¡¯s the furthest we¡¯ve seen one thrown yet!¡± Jan cheered loudly. ¡°What do you think, at least twelve yards?¡± ¡°-oh, at least, Jen. If not more. And did you see that spray¨C?¡± ¡°-marvelous. That Meohr is really turning out to be the little artist. Think the Opals will consider lending it out to redo my apartment?-¡± ¡°-not sure your kids would like that-¡± ¡°-what kids?-¡± ¡°-hm? Did you say something? I couldn¡¯t hear you over that girlish scream from that poor sod down there. At least die with some dignity. Am I right, or am I right-¡± ¡°-no, but seriously. You thought I had kids?-¡± ¡°-you kidder, you-¡± Jen trailed off with an awkward laugh. Kate thought that even if the fighter that was bleeding out had had a chance to survive in the first place, that they would be dying from embarrassment anyways. Though, from how the other fighters behaved, it was something besides embarrassment driving their actions. Not even shame. No, it was fear. They were faltering back from the Meohr, allowing the beast to claim the initiative and control the fight. A rookie mistake. Idiots. Kate caught Jackie¡¯s eye and rolled her own. ¡°I¡¯m almost getting second-hand shame just watching that debacle.¡± Actually, since Kate was the one that had brought them here, the poor showing in the Pit below might have unintentionally reflected upon her. Kate was loath to have that happen. Fortunately, Jackie seemed to be pursuing a different trail of thought. ¡°Those fighters,¡± Jackie asked, her voice almost lost amongst the clamor of the crowds, ¡°they are Opals, I believe.¡± Jackie seemed to be referring to the poor quality armbands each of the fighters wore to mark their allegiance¨Cthe opalescent bands had certainly seen better days, hardly describable as a dungy off-white at best. Jackie then continued her classic of a question. ¡°I find it difficult to imagine a crew sending their own to perish in such a hopeless fashion.¡± ¡°Eh¨C¡± Kate said, waggling her hand in a so-so motion. ¡°I get where you¡¯re coming from, but yeah, I don¡¯t feel like getting too philosophical, at least not right now,¡± Kate answered. As if to punctuate her point, at that moment the crowd roared once more. Kate quickly turned her attention back to the pit to find she had missed another goring, this time through the side of a man¡¯s cheek. Gruesome. Kate wished she had seen that. ¡°Surely you could answer the question?¡± Jackie continued the discussion, despite the action happening down below. Kate had half a mind to ignore the conversation altogether, but she reminded herself that Jackie was her date and it would probably be a bad showing for Kate to neglect the other girl. Kate groaned before answering, although she kept her eyes on the pit this time. ¡°I¡¯m guessing those idiots are in debt, or something like that,¡± Kate finished with a shrug. After a bit of a pause in the conversation, and a lull in the fight, Kate risked another side glance. Jackie was frowning. Why was she frowning?! Kate wondered. She doubted that it was a positive development, although maybe it was? Kate had always had a hard time understanding what other people were feeling. Fortunately, Jackie soon spoke once again. ¡°I suppose that explains some of it,¡± Jackie said slowly. ¡°Although, I do wonder how they found themselves in such desperate straits. Surely, these debtors must have known the potential to end¡­ here.¡± ¡°Ha,¡± Kate said, scratching the back of her head where a lump had formed from a spar against Blackrest earlier that day. ¡°Well¡­¡± she paused to buy time to think and remember what some of those words meant. Eventually, Kate shrugged and decided that whatever those troublesome words meant was unimportant. Otherwise, she would have recalled them much more quickly. During this time, she continued to bluster, repeating what she had heard her Aunt Janet say a couple of times. ¡°...well it¡¯s actually a bit of a complex issue,¡± Kate finished. Kate felt proud of herself for delivering that expectation. Another quick side-glance at Jackie. Jackie was still frowning. Kate swore, deciding to double down and keep talking, although at this point she was somewhat winging it. ¡°I know, yeah?¡± Kate said. ¡°I was surprised when I learned it too. But most of those guys down there, assuming they weren¡¯t just kidnapped off the street, were probably¨C¡± Kate shrugged, feeling somewhat uncomfortable with some of the attention the other viewers were giving, not that Kate was about to say anything that could get her in trouble, but it was a different sort of attention than she normally got. ¡°-well, let¡¯s just say that most of them probably aren¡¯t down there cuz of gambling or drugs¡­¡± Finally, finally, Jackie gave a slow nod. But by this point, Kate had grown invested in the explanation, and decided to try fumbling her way through an example, although with less fumbling, as obviously doing that was bad. ¡°Like, alright,¡± Kate said, thinking as she spoke. ¡°Say that guy down there¡¯s having trouble finding work, which sucks for him, since he¡¯s got a wife and probably some kids with how they breed. So, he¡¯s a bit desperate, and maybe he finds work through the local Crew. Only, they don¡¯t just let anybody join, people gotta prove themselves first. So they give him a job. Maybe moving goods. Maybe something else. Except, you can see that he¡¯s no good. So the Opals front him some Cee while he tries to learn the ropes. Maybe he¡¯s supposed to sell something across the divide, but gets busted up and loses the product. Now, he owes them, and owes them again. Maybe they give the guy another chance. Who knows. But you see where it¡¯s going, yeah?¡± Jackie nodded again, and Kate resisted the impulse to pump her arm in victory. ¡°I believe I see the point of your illustration,¡± Jackie said, if slowly and without the confidence that Kate would have hoped for. ¡°The impetus driving events is complex.¡± ¡°You sure you get it?¡± Kate asked, chewing on her lip. ¡°Yes,¡± Jackie said. ¡°I believe I understand.¡± Before Kate could make sure that was actually the case, the crowd erupted in a mix of jeers and cheers, drawing Kate¡¯s attention back down towards the pit. ¡°-oh you poor poor fool of a man, that was never going to work!-¡± Jen¡¯s voice cut in over Kate and Jackie¡¯s discussion, leaving Kate with another restless urge to inflict immediate violence upon the announcers playing up the crowd. ¡°-maybe you¡¯re being a bit harsh, Jen?¡± Jan asked in a teasing tone. ¡°I mean, cut the man some slack. It¡¯s not like he had anything better to hide-behind-¡± ¡°-shouldn¡¯t have been hiding anyways! We¡¯re here for a show, not¨Cwhatever that was-¡± ¡°-I suppose that¡¯s true. I would have thought that the Opals would have raised ¡®em better, y¡¯know? Can¡¯t really fault the kids for their parents doing a shit-job of it, yeah-¡± ¡°-language! There might be children watching-¡± A brief pause, followed by a boisterous combination of their laughs. Many of the spectators joined in. After the laugh stretched onwards for way too long, they trailed off. ¡°-well, they were probably scraping the bottom of the barrel when they dug that sap out¨C¡± Jan said, much to Jen¡¯s agreement. Kate growled under her breath, not that it would make a difference. She could barely hear herself think with all of the inane prattle. If it had not been for the somewhat hilarious circumstances down in the Pit, she might have just gone over to introduce her sword point first to the announcers. But¡­ it had been pretty funny, seeing it all play out. The Meohr had been charging a couple of the last remaining fighters, and one fighter tried using the other as a human shield. The look on the second fighter¡¯s face as he was betrayed by his brother of arm was seconded only by the look of shock as the Meohr ran through the shield without stopping, trampling and goring both men in a single sweep. Alright, Kate might have chuckled a little bit. She checked Jackie to see if Kate could catch the other girl reacting as well. The answer was no, or at least no-ish. ¡°These announcers are quite odious,¡± Jackie complained. Kate smoothed any trace of joviality from her face and agreed with Jackie. Because that was true. The announcers did suck. ¡°But, a question remains,¡± Jackie said, continuing their previous discussion. ¡°What of the Meohr?¡± Jackie was hardly making any sense. Yes, there was a Meohr down in the Pits. And yes, it belonged to the Opals. Kate needed a little bit more to respond in a hopefully intelligent fashion. ¡°What about it?¡± Kate asked, not really following whatever point she was making. ¡°For what reason has that Meohr found themself down there, in such a desperate position?¡± ¡°Themself?¡± Kate repeated again in a question, before realizing that Jackie had been referring to the single Meohr fighting below. An odd way to describe it¨Cthem¨Cwhatever. ¡°How do you mean?¡± Kate asked, only half paying attention. The Meohr in question had just trampled one of the fallen men, its hooves piercing through a man¡¯s chest before becoming stuck. The Meohr stumbled before kicking the soon-to-be dead-man off. ¡°-ugh, don¡¯t you just hate when that happens?-¡± Jan asked in faux irritation. ¡°-that thing¡¯ll be wondering what it stepped on the whole rest of the night!-¡± The crowd laughed and Kate might have smirked. Despite how irritating the announcers normally were, occasionally they said something worthwhile. However, it seemed that Jackie remained indifferent to the comedy playing out. In fact, Jackie¡¯s face was placid and smooth, giving nothing away. So, she might have actually been reacting on the inside, and just not showing it, as strange as that seemed to Kate. Unknowing of Kate¡¯s thoughts, Jackie continued. ¡°What I mean is this,¡± Jackie said. ¡°Meohr are valued highly. Any trip to the Mercantile District will confirm this, especially at the flesh-markets. How, no why, why would the Opals waste such a valuable commodity in such a risk-laden endeavor?¡± Realization dawned across Kate¡¯s face. ¡°Oh!¡± Kate said. ¡°You mean, you think the Opals are wasting Cee, right?¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Jackie might have winced, but it might have also been from the sudden keening wails from below. Regardless, Jackie nodded in confirmation all the same. ¡°Well,¡± Kate elaborated. ¡°It does belong to the Opals, but it probably won¡¯t get too injured in the fight, at least not till later tonight, that is if they keep it out for Turnover, which I doubt they will. That Meohr¡¯s got a few good nights left to it before it runs its course.¡± ¡°They are currently in active combat,¡± Jackie said slowly. ¡°The risk is high that their valued property¨C¡± Jackie seemed to emphasize that particular word for some reason ¡°-will be damaged irrevocably. This seems foolish.¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Kate agreed. ¡°But look at that thing. It¡¯s not like it¡¯s got many more years to go, yeah? Plus, it looks like it might be a bit sick? Has a few bald spots and discoloration.¡± ¡°Perhaps,¡± Jackie said, both agreeing and also sounding doubtful, somehow. The night continued to pass as the dregs were tossed to the pit in twos and threes, armed with crooked spears or dull blades, never anything notable or that would give much of a chance against the creatures they fought. And creatures there were. Many, many, creatures. Kate felt somewhat envious of the fighters down below, or she would have if she was unable to blow off some steam basically whenever she wanted. But as for the creatures, the Meohr had been retired for the evening to be preserved for another night. It had been replaced by plenty of under-things. Kate could have identified the creatures further, at least so far as archetypes went. However, doing so was useless, unless she was fighting them herself, and even then, they would die all the same and all too fast to make the exercise worth the bother. And this was not merely her own impression, but a shared one among the Knights, and probably anyone else too, not that Kate would bother with them. It was because under-things were almost never uniform. Take one of the giant rats. Some came the size of a crate, while others had venomous spiked tails. Some had extra-legs to the front, and others to the back. It was fairly common to see them with multiple heads, although that one seemed more a liability than a beneficial adaptation. For all of these different rats, it was likely possible to further identify them, similar to plants and stuff like that. But¡­ who cared enough to bother with that. Hence, all of them were under-things, alongside the freakish spiders and some sort of hundeor descendent. The common trait shared amongst all these creatures was where they originated from: the caverns and tunnels and forgotten ruins that stretched for miles and miles below Southbridge. Usually, the lower one went, the more exotic and powerful the denizens grew, until one reached the very bottom, towards where the Firmament invaded and receded on a chaotic schedule. Of course, none of the creatures sourced to fight today were from that low. All of the stuff Kate had seen so far tonight was from no deeper than two or three layers down. Common pests, easily sourced, bred, and humiliating to struggle against. Kate watched another fighter fall as a gigantic grasshopper-thing jumped upon his back. The thing¡¯s legs had more in common with knives than anything else. The guy would be bleeding out shortly. She clicked her tongue. Embarrassing, she thought, it was probably close to the hundredth time she had thought that so far that night. ¡°-and that¡¯s why, and I cannot stress this enough, that you always look up, folks!¡± Jan reminded the fighters, as if doing so would make a difference at this stage in the game. ¡°-right you are, Jan! If you ever find yourself in the Pits, or even more unfortunately, falling through into a full and hungry warren of the beasties-¡± ¡°-always-¡± ¡°-look-¡± ¡°-UP!-¡± Both announcers cackled to themselves, joined in by plenty of the audience. Humorously, one of the fighters was distracted by the advice and glanced upwards for a second too long, leaving himself exposed to one of the more agile rats. It scurried up the man¡¯s legs, and before he could fling it off, it had reached his jugular. Of course, the audience roared in jeers and laughs, joined by the ever-obnoxious voices. ¡°-don¡¯t-¡± Jen started to wheeze through the laughs ¡°-and don¡¯t forget-¡± ¡°-situation awareness-¡± Jan spoke at the same time. ¡°-down either!-¡± Kate tuned the speakers out as she eyed her now empty tumbler as her tongue felt slightly more sluggish than usual. Kate knew that there had been nothing poisonous spiking her drink, besides the alcohol, anyways, but she had drank several of them, trying to match Jackie¡¯s own consumption. In the end, Kate had been unable to keep up with the other girl. Kate glanced at the empty glasses besides Jackie in admiration. Jackie must have had some Mark or other enhancement to mitigate the alcohol, because even Kate was feeling some of the buzz. Kate decided that she should probably avoid drinking any further, although this hardly prevented her from considering her own mostly empty tumbler with longing. Well, she probably should stop drinking. But she struggled to imagine a scenario where it would matter if she had just one more. She waved back to the bartender and indicated that she was ready for another. While that happened, she turned her attention to watch the last of the remaining under-things from the last batch. This one was an interesting one, in that these were more aggressive and plentiful. Ordinarily the fighters fielded thus far would have been unable to put up even a modicum of a fight. But mixed in with the dregs were a few borderline incompetent fighters, as opposed to outright incompetent ones. This increased quality enabled the fighters to coordinate and somewhat corral the under-things against one of the gates to the Pit. ¡°-what¡¯s this? Could it be?-¡± Jan started to comment on the Opals actions. ¡°-I think it is, Jan-¡± ¡°-wonder why thought?-¡± Jan kept going. ¡°-maybe explain for the audience?-¡± Jen suggested. ¡°-well, it seems the Opals are pulling a classic blockade this Turnover,¡± Jan explained. ¡°I¡¯m just wondering why they would though-¡± ¡°-eh¡­ maybe they don¡¯t like their chances tonight?-¡± ¡°-they were never going to actually succeed tonight though, and we all know that. Gods, even the audience knows that-¡± ¡°-hey! We protest that very much, thank you-¡± ¡°-you know I love you guys-¡± ¡°-and girls-¡± ¡°-yes, and girls-¡± ¡°-but their chances?-¡± ¡°-not great, like I was saying-¡± ¡°-maybe they wanna make the Garnets work for it?-¡± ¡°-eh¡­ maybe?¡± Jan pondered. ¡°-or maybe they think they can actually win? I mean, I like their confidence, but¡­ that¡¯s not gonna happen. At least, I¡¯m not thinking so¡­¡± ¡°-pffft,¡± Jan snorted, making a gross and wet farting sound that everyone heard. ¡°As if. They only have four fighters left registered. The Garnets¡¯ll beat them hands down. This is more of a¨Cwhat do you call it?¡± Jan snapped their fingers.¡± That¡¯s it! Collusion! Who¡¯s turn is it after the Garnets next week anyways? ...¡± Funnily enough, a lot of booing was coming from the crowd. In fact, the only corner of the crowd that was making any other sound besides loud and derisive boos was the section of the Pits associated with the Opals. The blockade was a fairly common strategy, if embarrassing for the Opals. The under-things had been pressed against the side of the Pits where the Garnets would be emerging from, meaning they would have to fight and possibly be softened up by the creatures before fighting for the actual Turnover. The leader of the Garnets was standing and brooding with their arms crossed. Their face was an unhealthy red, not helped by their pockmarks and greasy complexion. ¡°-you know, that might be what¡¯s happening?-¡± Jan suggested a scenario. ¡°-they plan to cost the Garnets a bit more up front, you know, soften them up a bit for whoever¡¯s coming next. Do we have any rules against that in the book?-¡± ¡°-what book?-¡± Jen replied. They paused for a moment before laughing even harder. ¡°-hey! Hey, look at the crewboss of the Garnets! He¡¯s so mad!-¡± ¡°-rawr, angry-¡± The Garnet bossman¡¯s face turned crimson and he stomped back into the Garnet¡¯s booth. The laughter and commentary continued for a few more minutes until a quiet hush fell over the crowd, anticipatory silence that seemed to be spreading by some sixth or seventh sense belonging to the crowd. Kate herself was grinning in anticipation for the upcoming spectacle, and more importantly, for the scrap she had planned after. It was at that point that the Opal¡¯s gate opened once more, but this time rather than dregs, four veterans stepped through. These wore a mix-mash of armor, giving them a leg-up on the rags that the previous ¡®fighters¡¯ had worn. ¡°-and here we have the Opals!¡± Jan narrated the new entrants. ¡°As we mentioned earlier, only four of the originally submitted five remain. The bookies gave them four to one odds that they would go down swinging tonight, despite the blockade. I don¡¯t know if that changed their chances any-¡± ¡°-officially? I checked with the bookies a bit ago and they said nothing has changed. Also, I¡¯m supposed to remind everyone that they can still make their last minute bets!-¡± ¡°-ha! Careful with the betting guys. Would hate to see ya end up fighting down there if ya bet more than ya can lose-¡± ¡°-shh! We aren¡¯t supposed to say that!-¡± ¡°-please. Our audience knows what they¡¯re about. Besides, even if they did end up down there, someones got to. And if they¡¯re smart about it, at least not too dumb, I¡¯m sure they¡¯d turn out fine-¡± ¡°-you know, you¡¯re probably right-¡± ¡°-course I am! And there¡¯s a big ol pot of Cee for anyone that makes it three Turnovers¡­¡± ¡°-what¡¯s that pot up to, anyway?-¡± ¡°-I think a few thou? Enough to buy their way outta the slums, that¡¯s for sure-¡± ¡°-for sure-¡± ¡°-so, where are the bookies taking these last minute bets at?-¡± The actual fighters, the ones that belonged to the Opals, actual crewmembers, with actual fighting experience, were carrying themselves as fighters were wont to do. They bore their pearlescent armbands with pride, a marked difference from the rest of the gaggle that had been fighting previously, and that were now holding the under-things in an uneasy grouping against the Garnet¡¯s gate. Jacke started to ask a question, but Kate shushed her. ¡°It¡¯s about to get good,¡± Kate explained. ¡°Just watch, yeah?¡± ¡°This leaves me unsatisfied,¡± Jackie said, her eyes narrowing a tad. ¡°Are you unwilling, then, to explain what happens from here?¡± The fact that Jackie remained uncowed by Kate was admirable, but only in moderation. Currently, the trait was irksome. ¡°It¡¯s Turnover,¡± Kate said with a groan. It really was self-explanatory. Or it should have been. Kate considered that a person unfamiliar with the Pits might not know all of what that entailed. The entire night, Jackie and Kate had shared the booth with other viewers, those that had the Chargers to burn, the affluent of the slums, if they existed, or more likely, bored merchants looking for excitement. Regardless, by this point in the evening, most of them were drunk. The man that interrupted Jackie and Kate¡¯s discussion proved no exception. ¡°The Garnets will attempt taking the floor,¡± a drunk to Jackie¡¯s left, butting into a conversation of which he had no business joining. Some spittle flew from his mouth, flecks landing on the balcony before Jackie. She slowly withdrew herself from where the spittle had landed. Kate¡¯s own nostrils flared and she found her hand clenching about the hilt of her sword. Jackie reached out and placed a gentle hand against Kate¡¯s flexed arm. Kate might have enjoyed that, if not for the unwelcome conversational participant. ¡°Perhaps I may gain some insight from you, then,¡± Jackie said, speaking now to the intrusive drunk. ¡°Those men below appear to be more valuable to the gang than the previous fighters. What incentive do they have in joining combat? Especially as they likely understand their deaths to be imminent?¡± ¡°Same as always, ain¡¯t it?-¡± From the cut of his clothes, he definitely was not merchant stock. Probably some relatively well-to-do criminal from within the slums, then. The man belched, interrupting himself, before continuing. ¡°-claim, ¡®course.¡± ¡°I see,¡± Jackie said. ¡°May I presume that whichever Crew supplies combatants also receives a cut of the Pits¡¯ revenues?¡± Kate shrugged but nodded all the same while glaring at the man and daring him to speak again. One of the man¡¯s friends on his other side did a double take when seeing the menace that Kate was sending. The man¡¯s friend quickly grabbed the drunk and pulled him away, putting the more sober friend between Jackie and the drunk. The drunk protested, but the words were drowned out be the sudden cheers. ¡°-And here we are, folks!¡± Jan shouted. ¡°-it looks like it¡¯s time for the GARNETS to enter the floor! Lets see just what treat they¡¯ve planned for us tonight!-¡± The gates to the far side of the Opals were opening. As that was the same side in which the under-things had been cajoled, the moment the grates lifted more than a few feet, the creatures were rushing under the metal bars to either escape or attack whoever they found in the tunnels. It would hardly work, of course. The tactic was fairly common, and the Garnets would have come prepared for it. Sure enough, less than two minutes later the five Garnets emerged, sporting similar mismatched armor, but this time dressed in yellow to show their allegiance. An announcer was narrating most of the upcoming fight, but Kate was ignoring that. Finally, there was actual combat happening, not just mindless slaughter. Of course, the Opals were bound to lose. The last Turnover, when the Opals claimed the floor, they had started with five competent fighters. One either died or backed out since then, however, as the Opals were now down to four. There was actually quite a bit of strategy and interplay happening outside of the actual fights, but that was always the case when something as dumb as Cee entered the picture and polluted the fight. At least now there was a fight happening. Kate was watching on with anticipation, sure to memorize each of the Garnets¡¯ patterns and techniques, although doing so was second nature. Never, during this time, did she allow her attention on her surroundings wane, and so when Jackie tensed with the entrance of the Garnets, Kate noticed. It made sense, considering the blood between her and them. If the Peacekeepers had been doing their jobs right then this whole thing between Jackie and the Garnets could have been avoided altogether. Not that it mattered much, at least not after tonight. Soon, the battle was waged. ¡°-the Garnets are pushing through the center-¡± The dregs went down first as the Opals attempted to push through during the distraction. But the dregs were not so willing to die, and after the first few practically threw themselves onto the Garnets¡¯ blades, that became abundantly clear ast to be the only result of their charge. About half of the dregs remained at this point, and they were hesitating. ¡°-certainly don¡¯t recruit like they used to-¡± The Opals¡¯ shouted commands at the remainder. But the remainder was cowed. The Garnets seized the initiative, with four facing the Opals while the last kept the dregs off. The Opals put on a good show. Two fell quickly, but not without maiming one Garnet and dropping another. ¡°-is that two casualties for the Garnets?! My-oh-my! So far the Opals are making the Garnets bleed for it¨C¡± ¡°-wonder who paid the Opals off to risk their better fighters this way?-¡± ¡°-that¡¯s right Jen, the Opals coulda just retreated after making a show of it-¡± ¡°-well, not after pulling that blockade-¡± ¡°-well, true. Bet they weren¡¯t paid enough-¡± ¡°-oh I don¡¯t know about that. The Opal boss seems pretty savvy normally-¡± At this point several of the dregs ceased a perceived distraction and found their courage, charging the back of the Garnets ranks. Their spirit was in the right place, but they were too feeble, too slow, and too dumb. They actually shouted as they ran, giving away any degree of surprise they might have had, although them having any element of surprise was a long shot to begin with. ¡°-oooh, that was a good attempt, but too little too late, my friend¨C¡± ¡°-you were friends with that one?-¡± ¡°-of course, all the fighters are my friends-¡± ¡°-I can¡¯t tell if you¡¯re being serious or not-¡± Less than two minutes later, the Opals had fallen, and only three Garnets remained standing. One had died during combat, and another was maimed and bleeding heavily, likely to follow soon after. With the Garnets having claimed the floor, Kate gripped Jackie¡¯s arm and gave it a friendly squeeze. Jackie frowned. She might have been concerned. Or perhaps, that was a quiver of excitement. Probably from the excitement, Kate decided. ¡°-and just like that, the GARNETS have seized the floor!-¡± ¡°-right you are, but I heard from the top that there¡¯s a special surprise coming for them and all of us tonight. A sure treat, you can bet!-¡± ¡°-oh? Jan? Have you been holding out on us?-¡± ¡°-maybe I have, maybe I haven¡¯t¡­¡± The announcer was speaking again. Just words, again. Besides, Kate had a pretty good idea already just what surprise they were talking about. ¡°You¡¯ve got your ribbon ready, yeah?¡± Kate asked to Kate, giving the other girl a quick lookover to make sure everything was ready. Jackie frowned at the question. ¡°Yes, but may I ask¨C¡± Jackie started to question, but Kate cut the other girl up with actions, not words. Kate smoothly scooped the smaller girl into a bridal carry, causing Jackie to make an unflattering noise of surprise. ¡°-No!¡± Jen said in mock-surprise. ¡°They volunteered to challenge their claim?-¡± ¡°-That¡¯s right! Checked with the big boss and everything! I guess the Garnets got on somebody¡¯s badside tonight-¡± ¡°-that, or the volunteers are looking for a fight-¡± ¡°-could be. Let me see who it was that¡¯s volunteering-¡± ¡°-or maybe they¡¯re after the winners¡¯ pot? Doubt the Garnets would just let that go though¡­ think it¡¯s another crew?-¡± ¡°-oh! Oh¡­¡± Jan said, laughter in his voice. ¡°Oh, this is good. And no Jen, I don¡¯t think this one¡¯s about the pot. Take a look at this name-¡± ¡°-is that?-¡± ¡°-it is!¡± With Jackie in her arms, Kate took an easy jump to balance on the balcony, before leaping off and landing yards below on the stairs. Her knees creaked just slightly, and her quads felt a tingle, but with how light Jackie was, and Kate¡¯s own enhancements, the drop had been nothing worrisome. She began running down the remainder of the stairs, carrying Jackie all the while. ¡°Put me down!¡± Jackie insisted, slapping at Kate¡¯s arms as the crowds of the pits flew by, Kate mixing running and falling as she descended the uneven stairs and jumped ledges separating tiers of the crude benches. ¡°I said, put me down!¡± ¡°Always a joker,¡± Kate said laughing. They landed another level lower. Only a single drop remained to the Pit floor. ¡°I do not consent!¡± Jackie shouted, playing coy. ¡°I do not! I will never forgive you if you do not cease this instant!¡± Kate, of course, knew that Jackie was only playing coy. Likely, the surprise was too much, and Jackie was unsure of how to react. But that was fine. Kate would carry the extra weight until Jackie got her figurative, and literal, feet under her in the fight to come. ¡°-well, for those of you who don¡¯t recognize that giantess with bluish blonde hair racing towards the floor-¡± Jen said, drawing all of the crowds attention to the pair. ¡°-let us present to you-¡± ¡°-Sir Kathrine Gaurdson!-¡± ¡°-also known as Sir Kate-¡± ¡°-more importantly, also known as¡­ drum-roll please¨C¡± Jen started rapping on the side of the mic, creating a poor imitation of a herald¡¯s cry. ¡°-the daughter of our city¡¯s esteemed Captain of the High Knights! Let¡¯s give it up for her, and her¡­ friend?-¡± ¡°-yeah, I¡¯m not sure who that purple haired girl is. Think she¡¯s good for a fight?-¡± ¡°-if she¡¯s friends with Sir Kate, she must be-¡± Kate took another leap, landing on the gore strewn gravel of the Pit. The crowd roared in both surprise and eagerness for the additional bloodshed. Jackie groaned in disappointment when Kate finally set Jackie down. ¡°This is not alright,¡± Jackie complained. Absorption 2.5.X.4 The roar of the crowd echoed downwards, reverberating off the floor of the Pit. Kate grinned, almost feral, at the three standing Garnets. The three men in their haphazard armor eyed Kate warily, although at least one of them glared at Jackie, likely recognizing the lilac hair. To say that Kate felt excitement at the prospect of blood and glory would be an understatement. Of course, then the announcers had to go and spoil the atmosphere with their chatter. Kate never took her attention off her surroundings, off her opponents, but she might have angled herself enough that she could see where the announcers resided in their suspended booth, not too far above. Kate could probably hit them if she threw her sword. Not that she would ever throw her blade, of course. ¡°-and it looks like they¡¯re squaring off now!-¡± Jen said, amplified voice overcoming the boisterous crowd. ¡°-hey, that¡¯s right Jen. Wonder what they¡¯re saying all the way down there?-¡± ¡°-we really need to get those relays put in down there. Whatever taunts they¡¯re slinging have to be fun, right? Plus. And! And, we could really hear the splatters and cries, you know Jan?-¡± ¡°-yeah¡­ well, the thing is Jen, I¡¯m not sure what they¡¯re saying is all that family friendly-¡± ¡°-Ha!-¡± ¡°-and we¡¯ve tried that before, remember? Oh¡­ maybe it was before you joined?-¡± ¡°-I think I heard something about that? What was it that happened again?-¡± ¡°-one of the crews had a some sort of auditory enhancement¡­ I don¡¯t wanna get into the details, but it was loud, catchy, and ruined a lot of people¡¯s night¡­¡± ¡°-oh yeah¡­ what happened to the guy with the enhancement? I don¡¯t think I-¡± ¡°-and it looks like they¡¯re starting to move!-¡± Thankfully, Kate¡¯s opponents broke the monotony and boredom first. Typically, it was to besmirch her honor. ¡°So eager to die, little girls?¡± the halest and bravest of the Garnets spoke, spitting a wad of chew out to the side. He had been wiping down a worn scimitar with a rag, oiling it. Despite the blade¡¯s age, it held an edge and appeared properly maintained. Kate had to grant the man some small modicum of respect for that. He was not a complete fool. ¡°I might have some regrets,¡± Kate said, giving a winsome smile that showed off her teeth and which never touched her smile. ¡°Oh yeah?¡± the man chuckled after a slight pause. He had not been expecting that nature of a response. Only a fool let idle banter catch them off guard. Perhaps he was not so competent afterall. ¡°Well, ya leave yer friend to the boys, maybe we¡¯ll let ya go. Hear yer some kinda important lass?¡± Jackie made a small gagging sound. Kate decided to avoid possibly upsetting the other girl by carrying on with any sort of charade. Acting had never been her strongest skill, anyways. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think you understand,¡± Kate said. A sharpness in her tone caused the men to bend their knees slightly, tensing instinctively. ¡°Then why don¡¯t you explain,¡± the man said, allowing his rag to fall back down to where it hung from his belt. He readied his scimitar in a misleading position, trailing below and behind him, ready to spring forth as a viper¡¯s tail. ¡°I regret that there are so few of you to fight.¡± The man scoffed, spitting again to the side. ¡°Can¡¯t say we didn¡¯t try, when yer momma comes crying¨C¡± Kate guffawed, almost growing distracted by the idea of her mother ever crying. No, in the impossible scenario where Kate fell, it would not be tears that rained, but blood. ¡°Boss¡¯ll want that one livin when we finish,¡± he nodded to Jackie. ¡°Maime her or gut wounds, just leave her breathin, aight?¡± ¡°Sure, sure,¡± his two friends said, although their hunched shoulders proved their lack of confidence. ¡°But, yeah¡­¡± Kate let her eyes unfocus and loosened all her muscles yet remained balanced on the balls of her feet while ready for explosive action. ¡°...you¡¯re gonna want to get more fighters down here if you want any sort of chance at living.¡± ¡°Kate!¡± Jackie hissed from just behind her. ¡°What are you¨Cno. I know what you are doing, and I disapprove. Strongly.¡± ¡°Ha!¡± the Garnet fake-laughed. ¡°Seems at least one of you knows yer place. Pity it¡¯s her. Maybe I can put in a good word for ya?¡± ¡°I find the idea of collaborating with you and yours is not only abhorrent but disgusting as well.,¡± Jackie said, beating Kate to the punch. ¡°Bit wordier then I would have used,¡± Kate said. ¡°But yeah. I agree with her.¡± ¡°Have it your way¡­¡± the Garnet spat once again, emptying his cheek of whatever leaf he had been chewing. ¡°Guess it¡¯s time to have at it, then.¡± ¡°I wasn¡¯t kidding,¡± Kate said suddenly. ¡°You should get more of your guys down here.¡± ¡°You do have a deathwish then.¡± ¡°Nah,¡± Kate said. She saw where the Garnet Crewboss had been making his way to the final barrier separating the crowd from the Pit, and he was shouting with a red face. Kate waved his way. ¡°Go ahead and send more down!¡± she called loudly, her voice booming and echoing just enough that the announcers heard, along with the first tier of the audience. ¡°-did we hear that correctly?-¡± Jan asked. ¡°-I think we did, Jan. It seems rumors of the young lady¡¯s skill has not been understated-¡± ¡°-that or her bloodlust, at least-¡± ¡°-should we bend the rules and let more of the Garnets down there?-¡± ¡°-it seems the Garnets wouldn¡¯t disagree-¡± ¡°-still¡­ that doesn¡¯t mean we should just give in for free-¡± ¡°-right you are. SO, GARNETS, what¡¯s it worth to you to tip the scales of the glorious arena into your favor?-¡± one of the announcers, Katie forgot which one, enquired to the red-faced and shouting Crewboss. The Crewboss glared down at Kate and especially Jackie, before shouting upwards and holding three fingers aloft for all to see. It seemed that the man had difficulty shouting to be heard over the crowd and was forced to resort to charades to communicate with the announcers. ¡°-three thousand? Seems a bit light though-¡± ¡°-right you are, too light indeed! Letting the Garnets have there way would mean a change in policy, which is just such a chore to write¡­ I¡¯m not sure if that price is worth the hand cramps!-¡± The neutral parts of the crowd, associated with either a different crew or independent altogether, laughed uproariously at the poor joke. The two idiot announcers seemed to be savants when it came to entertaining the unwashed and dumb masses. Just thinking about the announcers¡¯ success in appealing to the crowds left Kate uncomfortably bitter and longing to throttle their skinny necks. Meanwhile, the Garnet Crewboss held up another finger, bringing it to four thousand, which was a respectable sum of wealth, even on the Hills. ¡°-I mean, that¡¯s a tidy figure, for sure-¡± ¡°-but is it really worth the hand cramps?-¡± There were a few additional laughs, though less intense than before. However, the Garnet Crewboss was sharing none of the crowds¡¯ joy. Instead, he crossed his arms and started to turn his back to the Pit. The men in the Pit with Kate cried out in an aborted squawk, realizing that their briefly won confidence might be so quickly lost. Kate had to grin at that. These fools might talk a good game, but they knew the score. Fortunately for the Garnets in the Pit, after the Crewboss made it clear he would go no higher, the announcers relented. ¡°-but, come to think of it, four thousand is quite reasonable. Whaddya say Jan, two for you, two for me?-¡± ¡°-Don¡¯t even joke like that, Jen-¡± An uncomfortable silence. It seemed the Jen had perhaps gone a bit too far. This caused Kate¡¯s grin to grow even wider, gaining more of a manic cast. ¡°-Err¡­ of course. My apologies for that. Naturally, the Pit Boss will take all of it-¡± ¡°-undoubtely-¡± ¡°-so¡­ uh¡­ let¡¯s send some of the Garnet boys down to even out the fight? That is, if it¡¯s alright to-¡± ¡°-yeah, I think that¡¯s fine-¡± ¡°-yeah-¡± The announcers lost some of their steam, stammering awkwardly as they tried to regain the pace and reconnect with the crowd. During this time, the Garnet Crewboss shouted, pointed down at the Pit floor, and the Garnets who stood beside him began jumping down, clearing the drop without overly straining themselves. However, it seemed that plenty of Garnets remained seated, not nearly so eager to test themselves. The Garnet Crewboss shouted at these sloths, kicked a few, and threated to stab another, before all of the rest of the Garnets began to head down as well. ¡°-well, the Garnets certainly aren¡¯t taking half measures here-¡± ¡°-no Jan, they are not. I almost feel bad for the two girls-¡± ¡°-remember, Jen, the girls literally asked for this-¡± ¡°I most certainly did not,¡± Jackie said with a baleful tone. ¡°Hm? Say something, Jackie?¡± Kate asked. She had been only partially paying attention to the words spoken, and Jackie had a way with piling them on that made following what she was saying take a bit more effort than with most. Jackie groaned. ¡°I did not consent to join this foray, nor did I request additional combatants to be fielded. In short, nothing regarding this situation was asked for, no, not by me.¡± As Jackie spoke, the most eager of the Garnets landed in crouches, some going down further than others, and one striking his knees before falling backwards in a heap. The crowd laughed at that one. But he soon recovered, if with a limp. The Garnets made their way forward to join the three leftover from the previous fight. The first wave joined, and then a smattering of others, those that the Garnet Crewboss was forced to cajole more assertively. One of these newcomers, wearing full brigandine and sporting a clean tabard, pushed his way past the rest of the Garnets and shoved past the previous point, taking over as the leader of the Garnets, at least of those in the Pit. It was this new one that spoke with amusement and derision both. ¡°Seems like it¡¯s your night,¡± he said. ¡°You cost us a pretty sum, more than you¡¯re worth. Doubt we¡¯d even recover that much if we tied you down in a¨C¡± ¡°-and I ask again!-¡± Jan shouted, beginning to rile up the crowd. ¡°Are we ready to see them bleed?!¡± Kate bit her tongue in irritation, waiting for the loud announcer to take a breath, before she could respond to the man¡¯s barbs. ¡°You¡¯re about to find out just what I¡¯m worth,¡± Kate said with a sneer. ¡°That is, if you even make me work up a sweat.¡± There, amongst the corpses of under-things and previous fighters, on the blood and gore slicked slate floor, well over two dozen criminal combatants made ready to fight the two girls who had dared to rival them in front of thousands. The moment the girls had made their way down to pose this challenge, it could not have ended any other way. The Garnets had lost an immense amount of face, or at least they would have, if they had let the slight go unanswered. Kate had known this and the Pit Boss and attendants had known this when she had made her request. All of this had been planned by Kate in a rare stroke of cunning genius that she continued to pat herself on the back for, if metaphorically. And now, with the bulk of the Garnets most worthwhile members, most able fighters, and general management, now down here, gathered and trapped all in one place, Kate could finally address her grievances. So, when Jackie asked, ¡°Have we a plan to deal with them, or will we resort to brutish tactics and hope for the best?¡± Kate felt some offense, but she shoved it all aside. Afterall, Kate had kept Jackie in the dark, as it was the only way to bring the girl down here and let the entire world know that Kate, and Kate¡¯s interests, were not to be trifled with. Rather than snapping, Kate spoke with a smile. ¡°Straight up would work,¡± Kate conceded. ¡°But I was hoping more to make a statement.¡± Jackie¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly. The Garnets had begun closing in from the sides, a loose semicircle with the circumference kept equidistant from Kate based off the fear that all of these weak fighters should have been feeling deep in their core. ¡°What nature of statement?¡± Jackie asked. ¡°The domineering and painful kind,¡± Kate said, baring her bastard sword and crouching slightly, already planning all the most debilitating yet non-immediately-fatal ways she could cut. ¡°Hopefully, very, very¨C¡± Kate liked her lips ¡°-painful.¡± Jackie remained silent after that, but Kate did not miss the girl¡¯s scowl that she sent Kate¡¯s way. ¡°-I don¡¯t think I heard that-¡± one of the announcers shouted, ¡°-are we ready to see them bleed? Or should we cancel the whole-¡± Before the announcer finished, the crowd roared, and Kate sprang into action. She only felt a little bad about leaving Jackie in a lurch behind as Kate pursued the flanks of the Garnets at a diagonal. Less than a second later, her blade tasted the tendons wrapping a knee, then an elbow, then the stuff holding guts in. She danced along, felling each Garnet with crippling and painful blows. The Garnets took seconds to respond to her assault. Then came the shouts. Then came the screams and the blood. Then came the pandemonium. Kate had planned to disable the bulk of them before they had a chance to realize they were done for. They responded far more quickly than she had expected. They closed in at a charge, loosing weapons as they charged inwards. Only those nearest Kate responded to her. She had meant to draw their ire and remove their capability to flank and surround. She might have made a slight mistake. A javelin flew through the air and narrowly passed over Jackie. Kate was caught up in her own fight, but situational awareness was something that she had grown her Sweord Mark to provide, so she had never really lost awareness of where the other girl was. But that javelin had come in flying fast, and Kate was unsure if she could have gotten to Jackie in time to block it, if that had in fact been required. Fortunately it had not been, since Kate had decent taste in women. But it could have, and that was the point. Kate hurried her pace, flowing through the Garnets, mostly men, several women, cutting and debilitating and slicing with each step and she loved every instant. She even was able to twist and spin with flair that would ordinarily be shameful and dangerous to commit in a fight. But the numbers pressing around her demanded that she move herself non-linearly, and it was amazing. Another javelin. This one touched several of Jackie¡¯s hairs. Kate growled at that, slicing down the next Garnet a bit too deeply, severing an artery. But Kate felt her anger excused. Just what was the other girl doing over there to leave herself so exposed? Had she even taken any of the Garnets down herself, or was she expecting Kate to do everything? A Garnet dove and attempted to tackle Jackie. A literal, flying, tackle. Of course Jackie piroutted and spun away. A sword came flashing in from her blindspot, but she bent forward as she finished her spin, allowing the blade to pass harmlessly over head before she flicked the blade upwards and unwound her ribbon. Finally, Kate almost said. It was about time that the other girl started taking the fight seriously. Kate turned her attention back to her own fight, just narrowly dodging arterial spray as she hit someone¡¯s neck. What had they even been doing there, moving that way? It was almost as if they had had a deathwish to begin with. How was Kate supposed to leave these Garnets in crippled agony if they killed themselves like that. This was not even her fault, she decided. Although maybe she should pay more attention to where she struck. The crowd roared. The Garnet in Brigandine, the localized leader down in the Pits, also roared. There were orders buried in there, somewhere. Several Garnets tackled Jackie¡¯s position at once, from different angles, knowing full well that they would all collide with eachother. They were dog-piling on her position. Despite Kate¡¯s Sweord Mark, she lost visibility of Jackie. Salt filled Kate¡¯s mouth as blood sprayed her face. She swore and kicked the dying fool away. She had gotten distracted, doubly so. Not only had she hit harder than she wanted, but when she had, she had forgotten to angle the fool away from her, getting arterial spray across her face. While having a face painted red could make a statement, it was irritating to clean, and a distraction like that, while in melee, could prove fatal. She spat the rest out and began making her way towards where she had last seen Jackie.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. The Garnets between her and where she wanted to be were irritating obstacles but obstacles that only required seconds to circumvent or remove. However, she knew better than anyone that seconds in a battle were a lifetime. She finally made it to the spot where Jackie had been. There was a tangle of Garnets there, trying to regain their footing and weapons, but there was no Jackie. And seeing the absolute mess of bodies, all living, although several with broken bones, Kate seriously wondered how Jackie had achieved that. Of course, Kate was never given the time to really investigate. The Garnets pursued her. She ducked in and gave the tangle of bodies a few more permanent debilities before darting away, trying to find the other girl. Kate was having little luck there. The floor of the Pit was crowded with all the mess from the previous fights left about, and the dozen or so still active Garnets, not even counting the wounded and the dying mucking the place up. But even then, Jackie should have been easy to find. Unless¡­ Jackie was still kicking, or so Kate hoped. Shouts from the crowd, pointing, and a cluster of Garnets near one of the exits. That was what clued Kate in. Had Jackie been trying to sneak out? That would figure, Kate thought, at least in that roguish sort of charm that Jackie had. It was also possible that the Garnets were making the attempt to smuggle the lesser girl out. Kate began her approach, a dash from point to irregular point, striking down all the foes that might slip behind her otherwise. As Kate came near, she saw the flurry of movement amongst the Garnets. They were edging around Jackie and herding her towards the exit on the Garnets¡¯ side. Kate paused with that realization, narrowly dodging the blow from the brigandine wearing Garnet who had come for Kate herself, along with several other somewhat competent fighters. A wave of fury washed through her veins. These cretins were attempting to steal away that which was hers? It infuriated Kate. She snarled at her nearest foes, quickly dispatching one, parrying another¡¯s scimitar, and then kicking the brigandine wearing fool in the chest. He went flying back. Seconds. That was how long it took for Kate to finish them enough that they would not dare, nor be able to, impede her progress. In that time, Jackie had been pressed against the wall, in a very poor placement. Kate could not understand it. Alright, no, she had to admit that she chose to avoid understanding it. Because, really, the ribbon was not the best for chaotic melee. They were a show-weapon, more performative than actually intended for violence. Considering that, Kate could see it. Maybe coming down here was not the best idea afterall. Kate charged towards the back of the crowd hemming in Jackie. Kate would probably get there before anything irrevocable happened to the other girl. But still, though¡­ Kate was displeased with the inherent risk of it. Because, what if, what if a stray knife struck her carotid? Something that Kate held dear could be stolen away, just like that. Kate bellowed and crashed into the back of the crowd. There were still too many bodies engaged between Kate and Jackie. Only intermittent flashes of Jackie dancing and weaving around strikes proved that Jackie was still fighting. How had she let herself get cornered like that? Kate wondered with some disappointment. Kate dove through an opening, her blade flashing. Garnets fell, shouting. The audience roared ever louder, picking up on the fact that Kate just might not reach there in time. The brigandine wearing Garnet rallied from behind Kate, forcing Kate to again make a detour, lest she be overwhelmed on all sides. The Garnets around Jackie rushed in as one, with some signal shared betwixt them. Kate started to shout¨C She lost sight of it all¨C When she caught glimpses, she was unsure exactly what she had seen. It was bizarre. A Garnet was lifted up and over the rest, impaled by an impossible ribbon-ish thing that writhed and bounced in a way that no ribbon should. The man was tossed against the rest. More of these ribbons spread out, whipping through the Garnets with ease, blocking strikes and decapitating through a garrote that really should not have worked, at least not that simply. Men screamed. Men died. Kate finished off those standing nearest to her. The crowd had somewhat died down, likely befuddled by what they saw. Possibly concerned. When enough of the bodies fell between them, Kate finally realized what she was seeing, or at least, where the ribbons had originated from. They were Jackie¡¯s deviant arm. Kate had always been somewhat grossed out by the silvery gelatinous flesh, but Jackie ordinarily kept it hidden beneath long gloves and longer sleeves. Jackie herself seemed pale faced, trembling slightly. The pulped bodies surrounding her, the formidable aroma, the slicked moans from those too stubborn to die just yet, all that mess might have had something to do with the state. A quick passover showed that Jackie was not injured, at least. So there was that. Kate drew Jackie¡¯s attention away from the gore. Not everyone enjoyed that sort of thing, and Kate would hardly think less of the other girl for that. ¡°So, uh¡­¡± Kate trailed off, not really knowing what to say but realizing that a distraction was required. ¡°That got a bit spicy, huh?¡± Jackie narrowed her eyes at Kate. Kate felt a little nervous all of a sudden, and she was not exactly sure why. Jackie had yet to use her words though, so Kate was left floundering. ¡°But¡­ uh, yeah. Seemed to turn out well enough¡­¡± Kate continued. Fortunately, Kate was saved from floundering further when the Garnet Crewboss from up in the audience began shrieking and swearing at the top of his lungs, likely realizing that he had just lost his powerbase and would soon be polluting some alley somewhere, if his enemies were generous to let him die quickly at all. Naturally, the announcers mocked him and everyone laughed. It was disgusting. The Crewboss, not the mess. Kate eventually had enough, planting her sword in the back of some still squirming pile and bellowed upwards with her powerful lungs. ¡°Get your godslicking self down here, you coward!¡± she shouted up, knowing that only the tone would be conveyed across the distance, and not necessarily her words themselves. However, even though she had insulted the waste of breath, he still held himself up there, screaming, as if he were too good to come down and fight her. It was dumb. He was a dead man walking, anyways. He might as well go out with a bang. It would be better than whatever other ending he might find elsewise. It seemed that some in the crowd seemed to realize this. Either hoping to get in with the rivals of the Garnets, or maybe just getting some justice of their own, but several men and women came up from behind him, while others shouted warnings to him, while others shouted encouragement to those approaching him. They grabbed him by either side. He flinched. He struggled. They pushed him up and over, sending him tumbling gracelessly down to the stone floor below. Surprisingly, he somewhat recovered midfall and only landed poorly, as opposed to fatally, which was what she would have expected. He still shrieked the entire way down though, and he likely sprained several somethings when he landed. But credit where credit was due, the Crewboss had resigned himself to his fate and he was meeting it on his feet. Kate gave him the chance to orient himself. She passed the moment by kicking several of the fallen nearest her. Her toe broke the brigandine wearing man¡¯s jaw with a satisfying crack. Finally, the Crewboss seemed to collect himself to turn his attention towards where she stood. ¡°Ready to die then?¡± Kate asked him. He scoffed. ¡°Not now, nor ever,¡± he said. He recovered a scimitar from one of the fallen nearest to him. He eyed the blade, testing its balance and taking a few practice swipes. ¡°You might have fought some of the boys, but that¡¯s nothin¡¯ compared to me. You even know who you¡¯re facing?¡± Kate rolled her eyes. ¡°Yeah, whatever. Just checking though, you¡¯re the head of the Garnets, yeah?¡± ¡°Obviously,¡± he said. ¡°Why, you lookin to join?¡± Kate doubted he was serious. But even if he was, ¡°You couldn¡¯t afford me,¡± she scoffed. ¡°I¡¯d believe it,¡± he said, eyes panning over all the fallen Garnets about. ¡°Where¡¯d your friend get off to?¡± Kate paused, realizing that she had lost track of Jackie once again. The other girl had been standing nearby in the midst of the mess. And now, despite Kate¡¯s perception, Jacke was nowhere to be found. ¡°She¡¯s somewhat of a rogue,¡± the man said, almost jovial. ¡°Probably shoulda just let us have at her. People like that aren¡¯t healthy to be around.¡± Kate¡¯s lip bent upwards in a disdainful snarl. ¡°What would you know?¡± Kate spat. ¡°About rogues, assassins, and that ilk? A lot. It¡¯s the business.¡± ¡°Whatever,¡± Kate scoffed. ¡°Let¡¯s see if you fight as good as you talk.¡± Kate thought she heard Jackie groan in exasperation from somewhere nearby, but Kate could not take her attention off the Garnet Crewboss as he was now charging towards her, his prodigious weight leading to a prodigious momentum that would be dangerous to confront head on. Kate waited until the last second before sliding away from his charge and flashing her blade in his path. He tried to parry, but it came too late, he had committed too much with too little skill. Several steps later and he crumpled about his stomach, his guts threatening to leak out. ¡°Gods take you!¡± he swore. ¡°Must you?¡± he said, along with plenty of panting and groaning and several swears. ¡°Yep,¡± Kate said in a fashion that she had been told was somewhat irritating. Kate would have left the man there to die an agonizing death beneath the gaze of bored spectators, however Jackie reappeared near where the man had crumpleld. ¡°You are the leader of the Garnets?¡± Jackie asked, never nearing striking range, not that the man had enough presence of mind to do so. ¡°Y-yeah,¡± he said. ¡°No others will continue your vendetta?¡± Jackie further asked. ¡°Heh. Like I¡¯d tell you that.¡± ¡°A shame,¡± Jackie said with a sneer. ¡°Did you know, your crew has caused me much dissatisfaction.¡± ¡°-itch-¡± the man choked out a curse, not that it mattered. ¡°However,¡± Jackie said, ignoring the insult. ¡°In my magnanimity, I will aid you.¡± ¡°Uh, Jackie?¡± Kate asked. ¡°You know he¡¯s gonna¨C¡± Before Kate could finish warning Jackie off helping the lout, no matter what false promises he might give, Jackie¡¯s deviant arm uncoiled, several silver ropes shot out and impaled the Crewboss, one in the gut, one in the hips, and one in the chest. They lifted him up, forcing Jackie to brace her legs and lean back to counter balance. The man groaned. There was a tearing sound. Chunks of the man came loose, quite messily. The crowd roared in pleasure. Jackie ignored it all, and finished saying, ¡°Much, dissatisfaction.¡± The Pits were boring after that. Despite the wounded still left, none were in a state to pose any challenge. As Kate and Jackie had volunteered and had no actual stakes in running the floor, the attendants let them leave one of the side gates into the many tunnels that led out from the Pit. An attendant offered to guide them back to the surface, but Kate knew the way, and she wanted some time alone with Jackie besides. They walked through the service tunnels in silence for several minutes, giving Kate an uncomfortable comparison to a somewhat similar walk with a more-exotic female. Of course, the comparison was unfair to Jackie, what with comparing her to a beast, which is what left the parallel distasteful, at least to Kate. So rather than focus upon the similarities, Kate focused on the differences. The tunnels they traversed and climbed were smooth and even, carved with artificed tools, as opposed to formed during the Shattering. They were safely ensconced in the heart of Southbridge, even if they were in the Slums. Afterall, the worst Kate had to fear in the city was people, not an unending wave of animated and contagious vegetation. Just thinking of the snapping tendrils tying together still living animals and people, robbing them of free-will, infesting their brains and nervous systems¡­ it¡­ Kate shook her head, trying even harder to distract herself. The vigorous motion drew Jackie¡¯s attention to Kate, and Kate seized the opportunity to break the awkward silence. ¡°Bet you¡¯re feeling something strong after that, huh?¡± Kate asked, trying to get a read on the girl. If Kate were in Jackie¡¯s shoes, Kate would have been feeling relief from having a threat removed, vindication from delivering justice against those who wronged her, and most of all, she would be feeling that shaky sort of after-glow feeling that one had after an intense bout. But Kate had since come to realize that what she thought a person should be feeling seldom matched with what they purportedly felt. It was bizarre, but Kate had also learned that feelings did not always follow logic. Case in point, her attraction to a beast she had once encountered. She shivered at the memory of that snout and tongue and soft pelt of¨C ¡°Fun, right?¡± Kate asked, breaking her own train of thought with the first thing she thought. Jackie slanted her jaw and chewed on her tongue, eyes narrowed in thought. Kate coughed, awkwardly, continuing to lead the way through the poorly lit tunnels. If not for Jackie¡¯s uncanny night-eye and Kate¡¯s Sweord Mark, avoiding tripping hazards would have been much more difficult. As it was though, they were making fine progress ascending the nearly black tunnels towards the surface. ¡°Of course you would think that,¡± Jackie said, finally breaking her silence, finally giving Kate a lifeline out of the silence which had been deafening. ¡°You thought so to, right?¡± Kate said. ¡°I mean, what¡¯s the point of sparring if you never put those skills to use, right?¡± Jackie scoffed. ¡°One does not purchase insurance and then feel remorse when their property remains standing and in hale condition.¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± Kate scratched the side of her arm. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t really follow that example, but it¡¯s good to keep your skills from getting rusty, yeah?¡± Kate glanced nervously at Jackie and they fell into another awkward silence. But, Kate decided, that was probably alright. Sometimes a little introspection was a good thing, especially after a good brawl. But, the silence continued, even as they exited the tunnels and entered the large thoroughfare that passed through the Slums and headed towards the Divide and back towards the Hills. But, they had not left the Slums entirely just yet, and Kate felt herself longing for another distraction, something she and Jackie could bond over. Maybe an attempted mugging would have livened things up, but even the most desperate waif would only have to take one glance at the pair, especially Kate¡¯s stature and obvious blood staining her blonde hair, well, that combined with her healthy visage meant it was not her blood, and that meant she was the opposite of the sort of target that an opportunistic scavenger would pick. When they crossed over the Divide and into the better half of town, Kate brought Jackie to a wash-room at a somewhat open bath-house. Of course, Kate paid for it. Of course, Kate would be unbothered with a bit of gore flaking off her hair, and she was sure Jackie would feel the same. But walking around the nicer part of town looking that way would draw unwanted attention from the Knights. And unfortunately, most of them knew Kate¡¯s visage well enough that word would get back to her mother, the captain. No thank you, Kate thought. Besides, Jackie had looked uncomfortable with the mess, even if the bulk of it had landed on Kate, not Jackie. But even after Kate had cleaned up, the other girl would hardly look Kate¡¯s way. Kate was beginning to have some doubt that the date was going well. Even though Kate had brought them a fun and relatively safe time, even though Kate had paid for everything, and even though Kate had gotten rid of Jackie¡¯s enemies and got her justice that she never would have found otherwise. Even after all of that, Kate suspected that Jackie was less than appreciative of Kate¡¯s efforts. And what was worse, this state continued as they climbed Blossom¡¯s Hill. Jackie was walking a bit faster at that point, almost edging out in front of Kate. Of course, Kate¡¯s long legs easily kept up, but it meant that their pace had increased, and that the time of action was quickly passing. Kate wanted to address it, to fix it, but it was hard because she was unsure of what there was that needed fixing. The silence was bothersome, almost resistant, to Kate¡¯s plans. Kate was not about to be beaten by an immaterial concept. No, she would wrangle it, throttle it, and then stab it until it died. Why was she even thinking this way? All she must do is speak. And do so before the girls finished reaching Ma¡¯Ritz and went their separate ways. Eventually, Kate once again made an attempt. Even if it felt awkward. Even if she lacked the right words. She still tried. And she was sure that she would win¡­ eventually. Kate cleared her throat. ¡°So, uhhh¡­¡± Jackie glanced her way for half a second before looking away, nearly the opposite direction. ¡°I bet you¡¯re feeling pretty good now that that¡¯s over and the Garnets are done for, huh?¡± Jackie inhaled through her teeth. Almost a sharp hiss. ¡°Ah¡­¡± Kate scratched herself as they walked. ¡°You don¡¯t think?¡± Jackie scoffed, but kept her thoughts to herself. Kate was not a fan of the attitude, to be honest. She decided that she, at least, would be truthful and communicative, even if Jackie was not. ¡°I don¡¯t know why, but I¡¯m feeling that you¡¯re a bit ungrateful. Which is bizarre. And I don¡¯t know how it¡¯s me that¡¯s using words, rather than you. Afterall, that¡¯s usually your thing. Using way, way too many words to say the simplest stuff.¡± Jackie rolled her eyes again, and then responded with something akin to sarcasm. ¡°Oh?¡± Jackie asked, turning Kate¡¯s way. There was some fight in the girl¡¯s eyes, but not enough to really get the blood pumping. ¡°I would not desire you to feel that I am ungrateful and I would be remiss in my duties should I leave you with that impression. Please, tell me how I should behave?¡± Kate might not have been the most socially aware gal, but she knew sarcasm when she heard it. Usually. ¡°Maybe you could start by thanking me¨C¡± Kate began, but Jackie spoke over the top, cutting Kate off. ¡°How should I behave when a person I had trusted has thrust me into danger without forewarning?¡± ¡°-wasn¡¯t that bad-¡± Kate protested, but Jackie kept going. ¡°Forced me to reveal some of my capabilities before thousands of potential aggressors?¡± ¡°-well, you didn¡¯t do anything that they already couldn¡¯t figure out-¡± ¡°Oh? Do you truly believe that?¡± Jackie asked while waving her deviant arm closer to Kate¡¯s chin. Kate recalled that same arm somehow garroting and decapitating an adult male and she did her best to avoid flinching or recoiling, although she was not entirely successful. ¡°And this is what I feared,¡± Jackie said with a weary sigh, allowing her deviant arm to drop back to her side. ¡°People will consider me to be a monster. Which is sub-optimal, if you were unaware.¡± ¡°No,¡± Kate said, vehemently disagreeing with the notion. ¡°They know not to mess with you now. Gods, even I hadn¡¯t known you were that dangerous. That was crazy, in all the right way.¡± Jackie considered Kate and stewed upon what Kate said. Kate seized the chance to win at the conversation. ¡°You proved yourself, and not a single two-bit thug will try you again. We got rid of the Garnets, which I know have been planning something to take you down. Word will spread to the Peacekeepers to, most likely, and they will be hesitant to demand their ¡®honest dues,¡¯ again, any time soon. And besides all that, we had fun. We spent time together. Don¡¯t even try lying to me otherwise,¡± Kate finished, giving her best winsome smile and nudging Jackie in the side. Jackie seemed to almost choke, before shaking her head and making what could have been a strangled laugh. ¡°Why I would expect different from any sort of date, I am unsure.¡± ¡°Look,¡± Kate said, trying again to change the other¡¯s girl¡¯s perspective to something a bit more reasonable. ¡°We went out, saw some stuff, had some drinks, got the blood pumping, and fixed a longstanding problem. If someone were to do the same for me, I¡¯d be ecstatic.¡± ¡°From your point of view, considering your tendencies, that does seem to be a reasonable conclusion to draw.¡± ¡°So, I¡¯m wondering if maybe it was something else about tonight,¡± Kate said. ¡°Wondering if it was the slums themselves that bothered you. Cuz, I can see where you¡¯d be coming from. It¡¯s pretty gross across the Divide.¡± ¡°And yet, you brought me there all the same.¡± ¡°Uh, yeah? It¡¯s the best place to watch a fight or get some yourself in the city.¡± ¡°Really?¡± Jackie asked, sounding unconvinced. ¡°Yeah. I mean, the baron¡¯s got his own little club, and there are a few others, but those¡¯re sketch. Guess there¡¯s some stuff way down in the tunnels, but it¡¯s small fry and inconsistent. The Pits are the best place, no joke.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± Jackie said. ¡°Say I believe that. I still would have appreciated being consulted first, before dragging me into that.¡± Kate sighed. They were just about to Ma¡¯Ritz now. ¡°Aren¡¯t dates normally supposed to be that way though?¡± ¡°What way?¡± ¡°A man would take a woman¨C¡± Kate¡¯s voice may have carried a hint of derision, and she may have been sneering ¡°-and they go wherever the guy picked that night. The guy pays and stuff, but there¡¯s not really much give or really discussion about where they¡¯d go. Right?¡± Jackie¡¯s eyes widened slightly, her eyebrows rose. ¡°Because of this patriarchal misogyny¨C¡± ¡°-that¡¯s the word I was thinking of!¡± ¡°-that excuses a duplication of that same behavior?¡± ¡°Well, no, I guess. But it¡¯s not so bad in our case.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Well¡­ ?¡± ¡°Because?¡± Kate coughed into her shoulder, not hiding her face, but maybe concealing it slightly. ¡°Well, I¡¯m not a dude,¡± Kate finally said, while adding a smacking, ¡°Duh.¡± Jackie let out a weary sigh. ¡°I suppose that you are not, in fact, a dude.¡± ¡°Thank the Crown for that, huh?¡± Kate said with a laugh. ¡°Indeed,¡± Jackie said wryly. They had finally reached the entrance to the service side of Ma¡¯Ritz. Kate reached the door before Jackie and opened it for her. Or tried to. Turned out that it had to be unlocked by Jackie first. But during the next fifteen seconds of social fumbling, Kate kept herself ready. Jackie finished unlocking the door and slid it open partway. Kate turned out to be in the way of it fully opening, which Kate was not so eager to relinquish. The date just felt unfinished. There had to be something more to top an already awesome evening. And sure, maybe part of it was fumbled, but overall, Kate still felt pretty good about how things went. Jackie turned to look up at Kate, and Kate down at Jackie. Jackie¡¯s face was once again placid. ¡°Thank you for taking me out this evening,¡± Jackie said. ¡°While there were some differences in expectations, I do appreciate your efforts. And just as well, I appreciate the fact that the Garnets are no more.¡± ¡°Yeah! It was loads of fun!¡± Kate said. Jackie continued looking up at Kate. And Kate was wondering if maybe their lips should be mashing a bit more, but also was hesitant to initiate after the earlier awkwardness. Finally, Jackie had mercy. She raised up on her toes and pecked Kate on the cheeks, before Kate could readjust to seize something a bit more satisfying. But then Jackie was back down, and in the distraction, Kate forgot she was blocking the door. Jackie slipped in and turned around from the other side. ¡°Then we will see eachother next at the Academy?¡± Jackie asked. ¡°Uh¡­ yeah¡­¡± Kate said. Jackie waved and was about to turn, when Kate, feeling unsatisfied, blurted the first compliment that really came to mind. ¡°I thought your arm was awesome!¡± ¡°Pardon?¡± Jackie asked, stopping mid turn and speaking over her shoulder. ¡°When your deviation took out everyone? It was too fast for me to really see, but what I did see was impressive. If I knew that sort of thing were possible, I might be considering getting the same thing done.¡± For some reason, Jackie gave a small and sad smile. ¡°It would not be worth it, I think,¡± Jackie said. ¡°Good night, Sir Kate.¡± ¡°Night!¡± Kate called out as the door shut. Absorption 2.6.1 Absorption 2.6.1 Life returned to a strange sense of normalcy. For, despite the horrible time at the Pits, an event which had placed my life in jeopardy, an event which still haunted me, an event which Kate had the audacity to claim was a date, for, despite all of this horror, I had achieved some significant gains in regards to my personal growth. However, if that growth was worth the spectacle or not, I could not say. But even if it had been, I would have at least preferred the option of declining such an opportunity, as opposed to being dragged to it and tossed in without prior warning or any sort of consent. Just thinking upon it left my spirits in turmoil and I could not decide on any one emotion. There was anger at having the event sprung upon me, gratitude at having a third party scheme and then removing a problematic group, and something else approaching fondness and exhilaration. But also, embarrassment. And worry that my capabilities were now further known. But the gains from that horrible alleged date had been significant. Gymnastics (5/9) (+1) Stealth II (2/9) (+1)
  • Trackless Tracks I (6/9) (+1)
  • Unnatural Concealment: (2/9) +1
Evasion I (3/9) (+1)
  • Impending Sense (6/9) (+2)
  • Lucky Break I (3/9) (+1)
Courtly Dancing: Treachery (6/9) (+2)
  • Flexibility (8/9) (+1)
Illusion I (8/9) (+1) Guise of the Kitsune I (2/9) (+1)
  • Malleable Form: 2/9 (+1)
Perhaps most concerningly was the fact that my slowest growing, vaguest and most worrying Sigils had also increased. How it ever could be considered a ¡®Blessing¡¯ was beyond me, but I suspected that sadism had been involved. Obsession (5/9) (+1) Other than these gains, the horrid night had also granted me insights as to my newest Sigil, or Spell, really. When I had first received the mark, I had been at something of a loss. The Grimoire had offered no advice on the matter, at the very least, not that I remembered. Instead, there was a momentary absence of awareness. I had read the Grimoire, blanked, and then awoke some time later without an itching Mark on my right arm. From trial and error, I had determined that the Spell had no requirements for a verbal component. I had tried, both with my Guise active and without. Naturally, I had been at a loss for how to actually activate the Spell. It would have been the peak of irony were I unable to use what I had spent so much to obtain. But that was very nearly the reality that I had feared. In fact, if it had not been for that horrid alleged date-night with Kate, I would have likely still been unsure as to just what the Spell actually performed. Not that Kate had anyway to realize the potential boon when she had dragged me off to risk body and limb for the entertainment of others. Even the better part of a week later, even attending the regular Academy classes for the Grace Path, I still found my mind wandering back to that blood slicked and offal strewn moment when I had activated my Illusions¨Cwhile still maintaining my Guise. Being able to do so was a breakthrough that I had not been able to achieve prior, and which I had attributed to my newest Spell, even if that Spell lacked any casting component and likely should not have qualified for the term. But then again, my ¡®Blessings¡¯ were seemingly the opposite of a beneficial gift, thus I figured this voided any assumption on how a Sigil should function. Unfortunately, the next day after the ill-conceived date, I found my Illusions once again failing, or if they were to engage at all, they would only do so in a stuttering flicker, disappearing the moment they appeared and then refusing to re-appear for a significant period of time after. It was from these observations that I came to a rudimentary idea of how my newest Spell functioned. Passive Enervation: (3/9) (+2) It seemed to only function during combat, not that I had a large sample-size to draw from in that regard. The Spell would act to refill my pool of Spirit, not that I had a concrete measurement for that pool to begin with. Of course, this was purely my own assumption, as it was Spirit that was the bottleneck for my Illusions in the past, and for the rare few Spell users out there, it was a Spirit enhancement that was often reported as the most critical secondary Mark. Besides that, it made sense. Evervation was the taking of something vital, from presumably a living entity, and funneling that vital energy somewhere else. Or, that was what I assumed anyways. It still seemed foolish that a Spell would lack any deliberate actions to use. I doubted it could even be technically termed a Spell. It was frustrating enough that I likely would have swallowed my pride and asked for assistance in verification. In fact, this would be one of the times that I would have appreciated the resources at Laverna¡¯s Cup. Belobog seemed the sort to know a significant amount of everyone else¡¯s affairs, including Marks. Likely, she could assist me with my questions regarding the Spell as well. However, I had not returned to Laverna¡¯s Cup since I had ingested the Grimoire. Joe had made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that activities were to be halted until the heat died down from the heist. It was in this way that normalcy returned. I resumed my usual duties and classes, working partial nights at Ma¡¯Ritz as a largely superfluous security guard, and then, my classes. It was as though nothing had ever occurred, despite the trauma involved. Though, thus far, I had been avoiding Kate at the Academy, and rather successfully as well. I had withheld details of the ¡®date¡¯ from Marianne, despite her curiosity, and I had been loath to speak of that night at all. Instead, I found myself diving into my classes of interest. Not etiquette or tea ceremonies, no, but dance and to a lesser extent, massage. It was in dance class where I found myself at this point. Class had yet to begin. Marianne and I were performing our warm-up stretches amongst the buzzing hum of students gossiping vainly. I had given up on eavesdropping during the first week of class after I had realized that more than nine parts in ten of their discussions was vomit inducing drama of which held little to no value, and in fact, detracted from my own intelligence. It was a small miracle I withheld from sneering at these teenagers. From what little I could remember of my previous life, Mother had spared me from attending any sort of school, instead choosing to personally hone my abilities, a whetstone to grind away my decencies and humanity whilst improving my abilities to perform her detestable and rancid¨C ¡°What¡¯s got them going, I wonder?¡± Marianne broached our own comfortable silence, still stretching, her foot resting upon the wall roughly at neck height. She was a ways off from performing a vertical split, but every day brought her nearer to this goal. ¡°Pardon?¡± I asked, caught off guard by her observation. In truth, I felt gratitude that she had drawn me from my reminiscence, as what I could reminisce upon would leave me in an ill-tempered mood. Marianne nodded towards several girls in particular, one of them being Brittany Gold, a manly looking girl and apparently a scion of a wealthy house. Were it not for her wealth, I doubted she would command the respect of the gaggle of fools she surrounded herself with. However, now that Marianne pointed it out, Brittany¡¯s gaggle was glancing our way more often than not. Brittany had just glanced at us, at me, and said something that her gaggle found entertaining, judging by the titters and one unfortunately donkey-like laugh. ¡°Think it has something to do with class?¡± Marianne asked, turning away so that she would not be so obvious in her observations. ¡°We¡¯re still doing the.. What was it called? The hard one¨C¡± ¡°The Ra¡¯Slae,¡± I corrected, however in my head I preferred to call it the Raslay. ¡°If the simplified version could be called that.¡± ¡°Not all of us can pull it off like you do,¡± Marianne said with a slight smile and a playful jab. The jab caught me off guard, not that it hurt, but that the Marianne of a month ago would have never made such a crass gesture. I suspected that the Academy was exposing Marianne to poor influences. Before I could order my thoughts, Brittany led her gaggle towards us, her eyes locked upon mine, a cruel turn to her smile. When she arrived, her gaggle spread out to either side of Marianne and myself, under the pretense of stretching, not that they ever truly exerted themself in class. Brittany, however, chose to address me directly. Marianne only flinched back slightly at the attention. Personally, I refused to show such weakness, keeping my emotions separate from my face. Oddly enough, compartmentalizing as such seemed easier than it normally ought to, and those compartments felt more like flexible sacks than boxes. ¡°You know,¡± Brittany started, her tone laced with false sympathy, ¡°if you find yourself struggling to pay for tuition, you could have always asked for a favor. I am certain myself and others of my ability would be more than willing to provide¡­ proving you convinced us, of course.¡± While I recognized that she was taunting me, I was uncertain as to where she was headed with it. Marianne was frowning, likely also trying to determine the trap. By this point, I had chosen to allow Brittany Gold to empty herself of her ire without offering a retort myself. Afterall, one should treat all generously¨Cat least until one removes the source of contention completely. ¡°And you¡¯re just going to throw out the Chargers like that?¡± Marianne said with a scoff, likely deciding she needed to get to the bottom of the ploy. If only she had the same reservations as I. I worried she would draw the ire and hostility upon herself, which I assumed she was ill-equipped to weather. ¡°I doubt anyone is willing to do just that. And besides, Jackie can pay her own way just fine.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Brittany said with an amused smile, as though she were humoring a small child. ¡°I supposed she would have a surplus, working nights as she does. I would not have thought that line of work would pay so well.¡± ¡°Well, it does. And we already have plenty of friends to help us out.¡± ¡°I would wonder what you have done to garner such friends and such¡­ favors.¡± The manner in which Brittany savored the word with a lascivious smile left little to the imagination, at least so far as Brittany interpreted the word. One of her friends tittered. Meanwhile, I glanced towards the door from which Instructor Rose ordinarily entered from. She had still yet to arrive, although she must have been close. I supposed we would be forced to endure for a moment longer. ¡°No,¡± Marianne said, denying the implication without thought for tact or how doing so would only further implicate herself in the minds of whoever was listening in to this drivel. ¡°It¡¯s not like that.¡± Before this could worsen further, I decided to deflect. ¡°Lady Gold,¡± I said, interjecting. ¡°I appreciate your generosity, however, neither Marianne nor myself are in such dire straits. If I may broach the question, what has prompted your offer?¡± Marianne huffed and glared at me as though I had betrayed her, even if just slightly. I ignored that, instead watching Brittany carefully. Were I not doing so, then I would have missed it when Brittany¡¯s eyes widened a fraction and the corners of her lips turned upwards. This left me wondering for a second, but I suspected that the blunt manner in which Marianne comported herself had somewhat disturbed the lady, even if the said lady had been the aggressor in the engagement. Likely, Brittany found herself uncomfortable debasing herself as such, and with my interjection, I had elevated the conversation to a status more fitting of the said lady. If my suspicions were correct, then the implications would be amusing. ¡°You may ask, and I am glad you did. It should not be so difficult for any reasonably intelligent student to infer,¡± Brittany spoke with a snide and mocking tone. ¡°The answer, of course, I am quite compassionate.¡± A moment of silence passed, one in which even Brittany¡¯s friends failed to respond. In fact, it was Marianne that broke the impasse first. ¡°Really,¡± Marianne said bluntly. Brittany¡¯s left eye twitched. ¡°Indeed. For after I heard of a certain dalliance in the Crown forsaken slums, I felt the need to at the very least offer aid. Afterall, should a colleague be forced to debase themselves, surely some amount of that debasement will carry back?¡± ¡°What¡¯s she talking about, Jackie?¡± Marianne asked, likely worried I had been turning tricks for the surplus of wealth that she knew I had. In fact, she must have already suspected something of the sort, which I allowed to perpetuate as I found it difficult to explain my purchases otherwise. The misconception had seemed harmless enough, but now I saw that it might cause a rift to form between my roommate and myself. While this would hardly be the end of the world, and I had likely outgrown Ma¡¯Ritz and the generosity I had received therein, I considered Marianne a friend, and I found the accommodations comfortable in a way my home had never been before. Given this revelation, I went to belay such allegations, as I had an idea of what Brittany was after. But as I prepared my words, Brittany replied in a haughty tone. ¡°If this really must be explained in such a fashion, I suppose I might make an attempt¡­¡± Brittany made a show of thought, a long and slender finger upon her chin. She pantomimed having a sudden moment of genius. ¡°Ah! When you perform your duties, scrubbing pots or toilets and whatever else scullery maids perform, should you fail to cleanse your hands, whatever you next touch may find itself spoiled by filth. That is what I mean.¡± Marianne appeared as if she wanted to interject several times, likely to protest the alleged duties, despite the fact that Marianne in fact did perform several of those actions. But that was besides the point. There was a reason Marianne had worked herself tirelessly to attend the Academy, and it was not to have her efforts thrown back into her face. But Brittany never released the initiative and continued rolling forward with momentum to an inevitable conclusion. ¡°In the same way, when Jackie humiliated herself in front of thousands, a portion of that shame has followed her to here and polluted this institution. It would have been better had Jackie serviced wealthy patrons as high-class courtiers do. At least such favors would have been private, keeping the shame to herself¡­¡± ¡°Jackie¡¯s not a courtier,¡± Marianne said, some heat in her voice. ¡°Unfortunately so,¡± Brittany said with a sad nod. ¡°What¨Cwhat was she even doing that was so humiliating?!¡± Marianne blustered. ¡°Has she not informed you?¡± Brittany asked, scandalized, if falsely. ¡°No¡­¡± I sighed. This conversation was suitably painful. I knew that it was meant to be demeaning and insulting, but the failure on Lady Gold¡¯s part to deliver the insult in a readily understood way was just offensive. The girl was clearly unpracticed in emotional torment. Marianne, also, was disappointing, at least with her naivete. It was near that time that Instructor Rose entered. Of course, Brittany attempted to fire off one last parting shot. ¡°If your friend deigns to deceive you, then who am I to oppose?¡± And then, Brittany and her cohort withdrew to their own corner, and the instructor began setting up. Meanwhile, Marianne hissed in my ear. ¡°What was she talking about? The slums¡­ Jackie?¡± I may have groaned. ¡°I¡¯ll explain later,¡± I said. ¡°Give me something now though! At least so I don¡¯t embarrass myself with¨C¡± ¡°-It is nothing so serious,¡± I cut in. ¡°Merely, Sir Kate¡¯s idea of a date leaves much to be desired.¡± ¡°Sir Kate? You mean the date she took you on¡­¡± she trailed off. ¡°I thought I saw blood stains. What did Kate get up to?¡± ¡°Later,¡± I insisted. She furrowed her brow in a manner that some less scrupulous individuals might infantilize. Fortunately, she was interrupted before she could protest, for at that exact moment, Instructor Rose clapped her hands to draw all attention to herself. ¡°Alright class! Today we continue practicing the third part of the Ra¡¯Slae, if somewhat modified to be more accessible,¡± she almost grumbled and then added under her breath, ¡°if it can even be called that anymore¡­¡± I had to agree with her statement, and the insult was not lost amongst several of the less talented students, including Lady Gold. However, before a formal complaint could be issued, the instructor perked up and continued. ¡°But nevermind that!¡± she said, smiling in a sudden turnabout. ¡°After class, I have an announcement to make which is sure to excite you all, as it has roused me!¡± She must have given that bit as a tantalizing bait to encourage her more talented students, namely myself, to submit ourselves to mediocrity. At the thought, I could not help but think poorly of Lady Gold and her ilk. This unfortunate turn in recent events was largely her fault. I could hardly blame the instructor. Let it not be said that the complaints issued by the privileged and by the wealthy had gone unheard. When the instructor had originally designed our syllabus, I am certain that she had held much hopes for her students and their aspirations to master difficult choreographies. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. If not for Lady Gold protesting to the dean, likely we would be learning the full Ra¡¯Slae now, rather than the tepid, watered down, worthless and unengaging hour that followed. Of course, not all had gone awry. Afterall, Marianne and I had paired off for our practice, and at the very least Marianne was a comforting presence, most of the time, but perhaps not after the last conversation. Actually¡­ no, this pairing was not a boon. I learned this as Marianne and I had far too much time to chat. I wanted to keep my personal reservations to myself, but Marianne questioned me incessantly until I yielded at least somewhat. I supposed that given the rumor mill, and that my presence in the Pits had finally gone noticed, that it would only be a short period of time until Marianne learned of the events that transpired. Under normal circumstances, I would have avoided thinking or speaking about that night at all. ¡°I just don¡¯t see what the big deal is,¡± Marianne said. Marianne just kept pushing, refusing to accept my own refusal, refusing to allow my own denial. Somewhat irksome. Marianne had not always been so brash. The Academy had definitely had a poor effect upon her character. Thus, she continued her needling. We had just finished our turn and resumed the same three steps again, this time facing the opposite direction. ¡°I mean, I know that Kate and you have a bit of a¡­¡± Marianne trailed off a bit, mulling over her words and chewing on her lip. This lasted until we turned once more. ¡°I guess I¡¯d call it an unconventional relationship? Why won¡¯t you just say what happened? It¡¯s obviously bothering you, and it must have been noteworthy if the gossips know about it.¡± There was some discomfort in her tone. I could imagine why. Others had learned of Kate¡¯s idea of a date night before Marianne had. Another turn. Others practicing nearby were eavesdropping without subtly. Should Marianne continue, I could not guarantee that my personal life would remain secret, as she knew far too much and was far too vocal in her needling. This left me no choice but to provide at the very least a morsel, even if I would much rather not. ¡°Your assertion is somewhat accurate,¡± I said. ¡°I do find discussing this uncomfortable.¡± Marianne winced slightly. But before she raised a further issue and gave away another piece of information that could be used by a malicious social engineer, I continued onwards. ¡°However,¡± I said, continuing to lead us in our paired stride. ¡°If that night has somehow reached the rumor-mill, I would rather you hear this from me rather than second or third hand. If only to prevent one from arriving at an incorrect notion.¡± I shot a glare at one of the eavesdroppers, a boy in a white linen shirt that showed a slight pit-stain, which was unfortunately normal in the practice clothes many of the students kept. The boy belonged to one of the lesser stations in Lady Gold¡¯s circle of acquaintances. He glanced away, breaking eye-contact as our movements carried us past each other and beyond range of vision. Once I had made clear that I was delivering this under protest, I provided a sterilized summary of the so-called ¡®date¡¯ that Kate had inflicted upon me. Despite my own feelings on the matter, I withheld sharing the duress of the event. I refused to provide my enemies the leverage to exploit me, thus I refused to elaborate upon my personal thoughts and feelings. As I shared, Marianne nodded along with a mixed expression upon her face that at least featured some relief along with a melody of other emotions, a mixture that grew more complex as I provided the barest account of what Sir Kate had considered a date. By the time I finished my tale, we had finished another half dozen sets and Marianne appeared equal parts astounded and scandalized. Or at least, so I thought. But her follow up question felt too insightful to have come from a girl her age who truly felt such. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ Huh,¡± Marianne said. ¡°I guess she planned it to get rid of the Garnets? So that¡¯s nice at least? Shows she cares, right?¡± She read more from my silence than I read from her; she hastened to add, ¡°Not that she shouldn¡¯t have asked you first, it¡¯s just, you know how she is. She probably just assumed you¡¯d go for it and wanted to surprise you. It¡¯s not the craziest thing? I mean¡­¡± she trailed off awkwardly. ¡°Right?¡± she asked after a long moment of silence. ¡°That night was certainly jarring,¡± I said, admitting as much as I was willing to in a public setting. ¡°I had been avoiding thinking of it, but you are correct. Likely, the only missing ingredient was proper communication.¡± ¡°Which a lot of couples struggle with,¡± Marianne said, nodding sagely. I disliked the comparison. Truthfully, I disliked almost all of the comparisons. Kate and I were certainly not a couple, at least not in any healthy sense of the term. And while I was quite the novice when it came to how relationships should function, I was absolutely certain that there was at least some semblance of¡­ something¨C It was then that a jarring thought occurred to me, one which I began to voice prior to formulating a response, coming far closer to ad-libbing than I ever desired. ¡°Do I¡­¡± I started and then trailed off. Some of the color drained from my face and I barely prevented myself from grimacing. Marianne pursed her lips, held her head askew, and began frowning deeper and deeper as the silence continued. She apparently could no longer take the silence and she prompted with a concerned sound. It was then that I finished voicing my fear. ¡°Do you think I give mixed signals?¡± I asked. ¡°This is in regards to my desires and what I am willing to entertain.¡± Marianne grimaced and looked away. I took that as an answer enough. Perhaps I could not blame Sir Kate completely then. The onus of proper communication partly fell to me, afterall. This fact brought me some discomfort. But personal revelations aside, the lesson wrapped up and prior to heading out, the instructor delivered her ¡®news¡¯ that she had felt was certain to ¡®excite.¡¯ As all the students ostensibly ¡®cooled off,¡¯ after our practice, she stood before all of us on a short step stool in lieu of a stage, and she made her announcement. ¡°In several short weeks,¡± Instructor Rose said, ¡°Princess Marissa is holding a Gala.¡± Already, there were some murmurings. Notably, Lady Gold appeared unbothered by the news. It seemed she and a few select others had either already known, or showed an adroitness at controlling their mannerisms to reveal nothing. Marianne herself was not immune from the excitement and she had grabbed tightly to my elbow in a seemingly uncalculated expression. ¡°Normally, this would be by invite only, and quite prestigious to attend-¡± ¡°-excuse me,¡± Lady Gold interrupted, ¡°-but it is invite only.¡± This contribution went unnoticed by the instructor. ¡°-My troupe has been chartered as the primary entertainment for the eve-¡± ¡°-of course she would use this to brag,¡± Lady Gold continued to comment, loudly enough to be heard alongside Instructor Rose. ¡°-Many of you are likely wondering why I would share this, besides to share in the joy of such an opportunity that your instructor has?¡± Instructor Rose asked rhetorically. ¡°The answer for this is simple: I was given permission to bring along several students of the best talent to show-off as a warm-up for the troupe.¡± ¡°-dosn¡¯t make sense,¡± Brittany Gold said more to herself this time, before she cleared her throat and spoke loudly enough that ignoring her would be problematic. She addressed the instructor. ¡°Might I be so bold as to inquire who granted this permission?¡± ¡°Ah,¡± the instructor nodded, ¡°You¡¯re wondering if it was the Princess herself?¡± There was a hidden smile there, perhaps a taunt, though it was difficult to say for certain. When Lady Gold narrowed her eyes a fraction while glaring at the instructor, I realized there was likely some context I was missing. ¡°Well, sorry to burst that dream,¡± Instructor Rose said. ¡°Although, the permission was given by someone important. Tell me, Lady Gold, how familiar with Lady Trigg?¡± Brittany grimaced and glanced away. ¡°I may have made her acquaintance,¡± Lady Gold said before falling silent. Dance Class ended, Massage Class went without issue, except none of the other students allowed me to come near them with my ¡®deviant¡¯ arm. Which was, unfortunately, quite the norm. Soon that class ended as well, and Marianne and I were making our way out, exiting the Academy. We chatted as we walked. ¡°I think Instructor Rose was thinking mostly about you when she said that, you saw how she was looking your way?¡± Marianne postulated. From Marianne¡¯s perspective, attending a Gala of such renown would likely be a desirable opportunity. Had the girl ever met the Princess or Lady Trigg, I doubted very much that she would continue viewing this ¡®opportunity¡¯ in such a positive light. Remembering my own encounters with both of the ladies, I found myself wanting to avoid the event altogether. Preferably, I would remain at a substantial distance from either of those sadistic women. However, I had to consider that attending a ¡®posh¡¯ Gala would provide plenty of opportunities to exploit of all different sorts. But, so long as I maintained my Guise, it was not as though I would run afoul, unless I was caught red-handed in some criminal act, which I very much doubted would happen. This meant the Gala was likely safe enough for me to attend, despite my discomfort. These were the thoughts that I kept to myself while Marianne continued gushing about the upcoming event, from fashionable dresses to the gardens and finally the meals that would be catered themselves. Considering the wealth and egos involved, Marianne did have a point regarding these things. Another benefit to this latest topic was that it allowed me to forget a certain ill-fated venture. I was set to enjoy another evening of normalcy as we descended the stairs from the Academy¡¯s front entrance when fate decided to treat me cruelly. For as our last class let out for the day, and as Marianne and I left at a sedate pace towards Ma¡¯Ritz. As we were exiting the front of the Academy, we were intercepted by none other than Sir Kate. When Marianne saw just who was waiting for us with expectation, Marianne whispered loudly into my ear. ¡°it¡¯s your chance to make up!¡± Marianne insisted. ¡°Ask her to forgive you and say you¡¯re sorry and it¡¯ll be clean as snow! You¡¯ll see!¡± With us being within Kate¡¯s range of hearing, I could hardly refute Marianne for such a foolish notion. Instead, I could only respond with neutrality. ¡°Indeed,¡± I said in a somewhat strained tone. It was at that time that Kate met up with us, having climbed the last few steps to meet us most of the way down. Rather than a greeting, Kate opened with an uncomfortable question. ¡°Make up? What for?¡± Kate asked. Marianne flushed at having been overheard and began to stammer some nonsense, but Kate cut her off with a wave of a hand. ¡°Ah, yeah, don¡¯t care,¡± Kate said somewhat bluntly but not overly rude. ¡°Actually, this probably concerns you too. You¡¯re like Jackie¡¯s bestie, so you¡¯d probably want to come with us. Gotta get some stuff ready before we head out.¡± In my head, warning bells sounded and my alarm was raised. Many, blaring, alarms. ¡°Us?¡± I asked, perhaps improperly, at the same time that Marianne obliged without hesitation. ¡°Of course!¡± Marianne said, exhibiting not an ounce of self-preservation. This simply could not stand. I refused to give mixed signals yet again. So, rather more foreful than normal, I asked for clarification. ¡°I beg your pardon, but go where?¡± I asked. ¡°Ah, well¡­¡± Kate scratched the back of her neck somewhat nervously before soldering on. ¡°Gregory and I got paired up for an excursion and I thought to bring you¨C¡± Kate glanced back towards Marianne, ¡°-and your friend, of course! You know Gregory Silverborn, yeah? We¡¯ve¨C¡± ¡°-we would love too¨C¡± Marianne said eagerly. ¡°-but where is this excursion to?¡± I asked once again. ¡°The Under?¡± Kate said with a chuckle, as though she had provided a mundane location within city limits. ¡°And I kinda already signed us up for it, so¡­ ?¡± I could only let out a weary sigh before beginning my protestations. ¡°Unfortunately, Sir Kate,¡± I said, using a voice affected with a false sense of contriteness, ¡°Marianne and I are unable to commit to any length of excursion at this time.¡± ¡°Uh, no¡­ but why?¡± Kate asked. However, as soon as I even began putting my foot down, Marianne shot me a glare. I would likely need to beg her forgiveness later for speaking on her behalf, but I felt she would thank me, should she undergo whatever horrors Kate had planned, especially should it be in a place so abhorrently called the Under. Before Kate could formulate a new manner in which to ignore my desires, Marianne interjected. ¡°Yeah, why?¡± Marianne asked. I refrained from wincing, though it was a near thing. Instead, I answered with a collected mannerism that I hoped would reveal naught of my personal reservations, lest I offend Sir Kate. ¡°The Grace Path has not issued a stay of class or an excusal for our absence. Neither you nor I have the convenience of missing several days worth. I would have thought you would be eager to attend, considering the efforts required to simply attend.¡± I may have asked in a somewhat snide tone to Marianne. ¡°Pfft,¡± Kate waved her hand as she made an undignified sound. ¡°That¡¯s dumb. Nobody¡¯ll care if you take off for a week.¡± ¡°That may be,¡± I said, ¡°But our instructor has unveiled an opportunity to audition to perform for a Gala of some renown. I am loath to miss this chance.¡± ¡°Gala?¡± Kate asked. Marianne jumped in to explain, ¡°Miss Rose¡¯s troupe is performing for Princess Marianne¡¯s Gala¨C¡± Kate frowned and cut Marianne¡¯s gushing off. ¡°What do you wanna attend that for?¡± Kate asked dismissively. ¡°Uhm¡­ hm?¡± Marianne stumbled. ¡°I mean, I guess you two probably haven¡¯t ever been to that sorta thing¡­ but they¡¯re kinda¡­¡± Kate trailed off, quickly glancing at the other students passing by. ¡°-stuffy, yeah?¡± Kate finished neutrally. ¡°As stuffy as the party at Baron Ore¡¯s?¡± I asked. The robbery had been the talk of the town, and it would be more strange for this event to not work its way into discussion, leaving me safe to comment upon it. ¡°Ha,¡± Kate said dryly. ¡°If anything like that happened again¡­ just¡­ it wouldn¡¯t be good. Anyways, I¡¯m doing you a favor by keeping you from that.¡± No, I would not simply roll over. I protest. ¡°But is it your remit to do so?¡± I asked. ¡°Huh?¡± Kate said. ¡°Should not each of us, Marianne and myself, be given the agency to decide for ourselves?¡± I explained. ¡°Uhh¡­¡± Kate scratched the back of her neck once more. ¡°I mean¡­ maybe? I¡¯m not saying you can¡¯t, but, why would you?¡± Marianne rolled her eyes. ¡°Jackie!¡± Marianne snapped. My eyes widened slightly in shock at Marianne¡¯s raised tone. ¡°You need to get over this! Sir Kate is trying really hard here, and you¡¯re just¨C¡± she stamped and made a frustrated sound, before realizing both Kate and I were staring at her outburst. She then stammered slightly. ¡°-can¡¯t we just go talk to the instructor?¡± Marianne said. ¡°She adores you. I don¡¯t think it¡¯ll be a-an issue¡­¡± ¡°Hey! Yeah, that¡¯s a really good idea!¡± Kate said with a broad smile. ¡°Let¡¯s just get this all squared up. Think she¡¯s still around?¡± Without waiting for a reply, Kate began dragging both Marianne and myself back up the stairs and into the Academy in search of Instructor Rose. Surprisingly enough, Kate¡¯s brashness worked. I would have thought that Instructor Rose would have left by the time we came searching for her, as the instructor had multiple obligations outside of the Academy, especially with the upcoming Gala and her troupe¡¯s performance and possibly also catering, although the details were somewhat sparse regarding that aspect of the event. And yet, she had yet to vacate the Academy. Of course, we likely would have missed her had Kate not dragged us along with her as she barged into the staff quarters where she then accosted several aides and instructors until learning of Instructor Rose¡¯s whereabouts. I tried my best to avoid eye-contact throughout the affair, as I sought to avoid any ire from being associated with such a brash ploy. Because while Kate¡¯s pedigree may have protected her, it would certainly fail to protect me. I was sincerely regretting even bringing up the excuse in the first place as I was now doubting that Kate would accept any answer but the one that she sought. So when we finally did encounter Instructor Rose, I had already largely given up on the notion that I could avoid the excursion. The only reason I continued pursuing the possible excuse to avoid attending the excursion was a matter of consistency. I could hardly retain any respect should I yield and roll-over without at the very least following through. I could only imagine that the manner in which Kate treated me would only degrade further should I lose what little respect she felt for me. The possibility left me shuddering. ¡°Jackie?¡± Instructor Rose prompted as she turned. She had been packing a travel case with several cosmetics and folds of cloth. ¡°Marianne¡­ and¡­?¡± she trailed off, failing to recognize Kate. I made the introduction before any offense might be provided. ¡°Sir Kate Gaurdson, enrolled in the Warrior¡¯s Path.¡± ¡°Right¡­ well, how can I help you girls?¡± Instructor Rose asked. ¡°You need to excuse them for the next few days or so,¡± Kate said without preamble. Instructor¡¯s Rose frowned slightly while Marianne and I winced. ¡°I am not necessarily opposed,¡± the instructor said. ¡°But I assume there¡¯s a proper reason for this?¡± ¡°Yep,¡± Kate said. A beat of silence followed followed that as expectations were not met. Another beat of silence before Kate realized that those expectations rested upon her shoulders to fulfill. Kate coughed, realizing she should explain further. ¡°Well, me and Gregory have an excursion planned and I want Jackie and Mari to come with.¡± ¡°...I see. And you, Jackie? Marianne?¡± the instructor glanced at the both of us. ¡°Is this something that you want? It feels somewhat sudden.¡± ¡°Yeah!¡± Marianne said. ¡°I think it¡¯s a really good opportunity to learn more ¡®n stuff.¡± As much as I was able, I shook my head in the negative without giving the game away to Kate. It was not much, and I could not have been certain that the instructor had even seen. ¡°And stuff?¡± Instructor Rose asked Marianne instead, failing to react to my silent plea. ¡°Well¡­ I mean¡­ Master Plum¡¯s told us to expand our network and this seems like a good way to do that?¡± Marianne finished with a note of uncertainty. ¡°While that may be true,¡± I said, before anyone construed my silence as consent to go along with Kate¡¯s foolhardedness. ¡°I am concerned that an absence at this juncture would worsen my chances to audition for the Gala.¡± Instructor Rose¡¯s lips twitched upwards in a slight smile. ¡°Oh, well if that¡¯s your only concern, you need not be worried, Jackie. You¡¯re one of the best dancers in the program. In fact, I doubt the next few days would do much to teach you anything you don¡¯t already know, considering how I¡¯ve had to dull the lesson plan¡­¡± My spirits dropped as the instructor continued bashing my excuse into nothingness. ¡°... So go on with your friend. Have fun on your excursion,¡± Instructor Rose finished. ¡°Thanks Instructor!¡± Marianne said with much enthusiasm. It had appeared that my excuse had been rebuffed. And while I could escalate, at what cost? Would it be worth it to upset the sole daughter of the High Knight Captain? Would it be worth it to upset my roommate? It was difficult to say for sure, but I thought not. At least, not unless the Under was far more dire than I had been led to believe. And if that was the case, I could always abandon the others and make my own way, although that would expectedly burn down all bridges and relations I may have built, except with the criminals at Laverna¡¯s Cup. And thus, I gave a pained smile, almost more of a grimace. The instructor noticed but did not care enough to comment upon it, instead asking a follow up in a gossiping fashion. ¡°So,¡± the instructor said, clapping her hands once. ¡°Where is this excursion to? Anywhere fun?¡± ¡°Loads of fun,¡± Kate said with a smirk. ¡°We¡¯ll be traveling deep in the Under to find some gems.¡± ¡°Pardon?¡± Instructor Rose stammered slightly, before catching her voice and smoothing it over. ¡°I mean to say, surely I misheard. Did you say The Under?¡± ¡°Yep.¡± ¡°For an Academy Excursion?¡± ¡°Yep!¡± ¡°But¡­ are you not¡­?¡± the instructor continued stammering. ¡°But even veterans find themselves struggling there!¡± Kate made another unflattering sound. ¡°Please,¡± Kate said with a dismissive scoff. ¡°You¡¯re comparing us to scrubs. We¡¯ll be fine. Nothing¡¯s down there that¡¯ll be too challenging. It¡¯s why I signed us up.¡± I was beginning to second-guess my previous risk-benefit analysis. The instructor gave a somewhat deflating sigh. ¡°Well, it¡¯s not like I can keep you, and you would know best¡­¡± the instructor sounded anything but certain. Naturally, Kate ignored all caution from the instructor and instead gave a firm nod and a curt end to the conversation. ¡°Whelp, we gotta go and start prepping,¡± Kate said, beginning to drag both Marianne and I away. ¡°Be back in like a week or something!¡± she finished calling out over her shoulder. As we left, Instructor Rose gave a polite farewell. When we were almost out of auditory range, I heard her add something else, but in a low and hushed voice. ¡°Good luck girls,¡± she said. ¡°It seems you¡¯ll need it.¡± Symbiotic Parasite (aka false-arm) 4.2 Tendrils, approximately 1.5 yards in length, unspooled. Talents:
  • Athleticism I (3/9):
    • Climbing I (5/9)
      • Featherlight I (4/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
    • Gymnastics (5/9) (+1)
  • Stealth II (2/9) (+1)
    • Trackless Tracks I (6/9) (+1)
      • Area Coverage (6/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
    • Unnatural Concealment: (2/9) +1
  • Eschiver I (3/9)
    • Evasion I (3/9) (+1)
      • Impending Sense (6/9) (+2)
    • Lucky Break I (3/9) (+1)
      • Chance Encounter (5/9)
  • Courtly Dancing: Treachery (6/9) (+2)
    • Flexibility (8/9) (+1)
Spells:
    • Illusion I (8/9) (+1)
      • Touch (8/9)
    • Guise of the Kitsune I (2/9) (+1)
      • Malleable Form: 2/9 (+1)
  • Passive Enervation: (3/9) (+2)
Gifts:
  • Obsession (5/9) (+1)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.6.2 Absorption 2.6.2 ¡°I¡¯m not sure we can afford this,¡± Marianne said in a worried voice. This was a worry she was not uttering for the first time, nor for the second, nor even the third. I attempted to limit my exasperation as I once again stated facts. ¡°Sir Kate has promised to reimburse us for these expenses,¡± I remind her. ¡°Unless, perhaps, you are having second thoughts in regards to this excursion?¡± ¡°Not second thoughts, per-se¡­¡± Marianne trails off, chewing on her lower lip. We were shopping in the Mercantile District to finish our preparations. So far, we had bought several dried foodstuffs meant to hold us over should the worst occur, but that was the cheap part. Currently we were shopping for appropriate backpacks, bedding, and portable stoves that could double as a lantern. This was where Marianne¡¯s concerns over pricing had begun to mount. ¡°But is it really fair for her to pay our way? It¡¯s kinda¡­ a lot.¡± I withheld a scoff and instead said, ¡°It may seem costly to us, but Kate resides in a social strata several levels above our own. Likely, this would be considered cheap, at least to her.¡± ¡°But why¡¯d she forget to pay up-front?¡± Marianne complained. This was not the first time she had said something similar during this shopping trip. ¡°It can¡¯t be that cheap, or else she wouldn¡¯t have forgotten.¡± ¡°Regardless, I will cover our expenses. Sir Kate will recompense us later.¡± ¡°Ok. If it¡¯s something cheap for some social level strata whatever, then how¡¯re you paying for it so easily? I¡¯m looking at some of these prices, and it¡¯s more than a couple months wages.¡± We were currently reviewing several artificed lantern-stove combinations at the Artificer Union¡¯s central outlet. The prices were somewhat costly, not prohibitively so. At least not when I factored in my ill-gotten gains from my discretionary activities. I found one in particular that promised better heat control and efficiency with the expense being fewer lumens generated. Due to the fact that it required fewer Chargers to operate, the price tag was a bit more expensive, but a few hundred Chargers at least. I pointed it out to Marianne all the same. She glanced at the price-tag and shuddered. ¡°Like that one,¡± she said. ¡°Way too expensive for a short little jaunt.¡± In a quieter tone she added, ¡°Even if it is to the Under¡­¡± I shrugged and picked the lantern-stove up for myself, knowing that the cost would be well worth it if I ever was required to return to rough living. ¡°We still need to get the bedrolls,¡± I said. ¡°Too much of our time has already been spent shopping around for an appropriate deal. At this rate, we may find ourselves on an excursion with half of our requisite supplies missing.¡± ¡°Ugh,¡± Marianne complained. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll just use your stuff anyways.¡± ¡°Not my bedroll,¡± I said with a firm voice. Marianne gave what could politely be called a begging stare. I groaned and reaffirmed, ¡°No. No I will not share that with you, there is only room for one occupant at a time, and it is unlikely that we will be sleeping in shifts.¡± ¡°Well, no¨C¡± she turned away with a blush ¡°-course not.¡± The next vendor we visited, as the interior of the current shop was structured more as an interconnected mall, just so happened to be one to sell high quality mats and sleeping bags, or bed-rolls if the two were combined. It seemed lackadaisical, but I would not protest their customs. As I had already experienced sleeping rough without any comfort upon hard stone and cold lichen, I refused to pinch any pennies in this instance. While Marianne gravitated towards the economical end of the store, I went towards the other end, the one with wool, supple leather, and some sort of alchemically produced foam padding. I finally selected one for the price of twelve hundred Chargers, not quite the most expensive one, and my diminutive size also helped to reduce the price further. As I had finished and was ready to proceed, I was forced to wait on Marianne who seemed to be agonizing over several bedrolls hovering around the cost of one to three hundred Chargers. ¡°You are agonizing needlessly, Marianne,¡± I chided her. ¡°Simply select the one you can live with and I will pay for it. Sir Kate will reimburse me. You have no need to fear being in anyone¡¯s debt, as this is all to support Sir Kate¡¯s expedition. The onus to foot the bill rests with her.¡± ¡°I know that,¡± she said. ¡°But¡­ I just hate putting you out the Cee.¡± Her scruples left me somewhat confused. While a portion of me was curious about what drove her in this fashion, another, greater, portion wanted to simply finish shopping so that we could be on our way. I still needed to drop by Laverna¡¯s Cup, regardless of their most recent advisement to remain away from the establishment. It simply would look poorly and would leave me liable for reprisement should I fail to provide notice that I would be unavailable for a week, even though a contract had not been signed to say otherwise. I once again attempted to hasten the process along. ¡°While I have never been to the Under personally,¡± I said. ¡°I can imagine that the space is cold, damp, and lacking in soft terrain. I believe the more expensive option is preferable. You will thank me for my advice, I am sure. At least if you follow through.¡± She groaned and ended up selecting the cheaper of the ones she had been considering. I narrowed my eyes but said nothing further. We went to pay the merchant, and as Marianne saw me easily pay nearly two thousand Chargers, all without any seeming concern for my purse, she frowned, blushed slightly, and glanced to the side. It was curious enough of a reaction, that as we left, I asked about it. At least I had planned to. Marianne beat me to it, speaking first. Far too much of her attention was on my purse. ¡°How?¡± Marianne asked. Her arms were crossed, her brows furrowed, and her shoulders hunched. ¡°I am unsure of¨C¡± I began to point out how unhelpful her question was, when she elaborated. ¡°-How could you?!¡± Marianne insisted, raising her voice. My confusion only deepened. What did Marianne know, exactly, or rather, what did she assume that was so offensive? Her outburst caused several passersby to glance in our direction, which caused her to blush, but not nearly enough to make her stop. After I glared at the sole passerby that had slowed down to listen in and scaring him off with a flex of my false-arm, I turned my attention back towards my roommate, my friend, and person that I would count on, if I ever decided to count upon anyone to begin with. ¡°Do you mean, how did I pay for our supplies?¡± I asked, genuinely unsure of where she was going with this. I also disliked the accusation her voice carried. Marianne, perhaps sensing the confusion written across my features, took a calming breath and released some of her tension and some of the tightness from her voice. ¡°The Cee,¡± she began. ¡°How¡¯d you get them? The only way I can think of is by¡­¡± she blushed and lowered her voice to a whisper ¡°-night work! Turning tricks!¡± A part of me wished to recoil. Internally, I did. But doing so would not be consistent with a previous narrative, as I recalled allowing her to come to that conclusion through an implicit lack of denial earlier. It was a far safer assumption than some of the others that she could come to. However, I had an out to this, or a diversion, I supposed. Several, in fact. But in order to select the appropriate recourse I would need to understand why this was upsetting Marianne. ¡°I will not say that I have performed anything so crass,¡± I said, hedging myself for future denials. ¡°But what would be the problem if it were so? Does not your adoptive older sister sustain herself, and yourself, with the funds gathered through such means?¡± Marianne scowled and blushed all at once. ¡°It¡¯s not the same.¡± ¡°Of course not,¡± I said. There may have been some patronizing. ¡°She¡¯s not dating the frost blighted Captain¡¯s Daughter!¡± Marianne snapped. ¡°What do you think would happen if she found out?!¡± Ah. I suddenly understood her concern. Sir Kate would definitely come across as the jealous sort. And considering we would soon be spending a week in close proximity with the girl, I could hardly claim that she herself was my patron, which would have been my initial choice. ¡°I understand where you are coming from,¡± I said with a nod and a small but non-patronizing smile. ¡°However, you have no need to fear this as I have not performed anything that Sir Kate would find¡­ unwholesome,¡± I lied. ¡°Like what?¡± ¡°Unfortunately, that is not my indiscretion to share. But, should you value your life¨C¡± I spoke with seriousness ¡°-I would not bring this indiscretion up near where Kate could hear.¡± Marianne¡¯s blush dissipated and was replaced with quickly paling skin. ¡°Of course it¡¯s like that,¡± she said with a weak huff. ¡°Nobles¨C¡± she practically spat. ¡°-You might need to be careful yourself, Jackie. If she thinks you might¨C¡± I held up a hand to cut her off from her imagined scenario. Not only was this fabricated, but the conversation was liable to attract unwanted attention. ¡°Think no more of this particular topic,¡± I said. ¡°For both of our continued safety.¡± What felt like hours later, we finished procuring supplies. We carried them through the checkpoint and then all of the way up Blossom Hill until reaching Ma¡¯Ritz. There, I dropped Marianne off to perform her duties, and also to prepare the way with both Ma and Esmerelda. How Ma decided to cover our shifts, personally, I was unworried. I had largely outgrown the place, using it more as discounted housing than anything else. I could always find that elsewhere, afterall. But as soon as I dropped Marianne and the supplies off, I turned towards my second task. We had wasted enough time shopping that evening was quickly approaching. It was as I made my way to Laverna¡¯s Cup that I noticed it: an uncomfortable itch emanating from the middle of my back. My false-arm tensed the tendrils spread throughout my torso, leaving my ribs creaking, my clavicle groaning, and a sudden dizziness akin to standing up too quickly, only much, much, worse. The suddenness of these sensations left me incredibly wary. I could only consider what had brought this on. I found an overhang to lean against until the worst of the dizziness passed. I watched the few pedestrians also traveling the street. Other than several lingering glances of curiosity, none seemed particularly interested, let alone overtly hostile. As my breathing regained its breadth of motion, I straightened and kicked off from the wall. I had already decided to continue on my course towards Laverna¡¯s Cup, especially as I could identify no particular culprit for the ambiguous attack, if it even was an attack to begin with. For all that I knew, the perpetrator had been my false-arm; it had always straddled the line between helpful symbiote and infesting parasite. I turned to resume my descent down towards the Chasm side of Blossom Hill. A shadow passed overhead and behind me, a flicker of movement and naught more. It had come from the roofs of the buildings lining the lane. The urge to immediately turn and pursue this movement was easier to resist than I would have expected. The curiosity came and left quickly, much more so than I would think natural. However, besides noting this oddity, I took no action other than following my previous course. Afterall, what business was it to me if a shadowy figure preferred traveling rooftops; I could hardly blame them. And in the instance where this person or entity did intend me maliciousness, alerting them that I knew they were there would only reduce my options of response. Hence, I continued making my way down the lane. Allowing my senses to relax, ignoring the slight burning along my sinuses, I allowed my observation power to increase: peripheral vision required an unfocused sight. After another block came and went before the shadowy figure overstretched and briefly entered my field of vision. They wore a purple cloak and their face was hidden by their shadowed cowl. While I was uncertain of their identity, I thought it likely that they belonged to the Vigilants. Not many would have the audacity to travel across rooftops in broad daylight, otherwise. As my steps continued smoothly and without hitch, the figure fell beyond my vision once more. I had only gained a brief glimpse of them. It was enough to know I was in danger. Why else was I being tailed? If, indeed, it was as I suspected. Of course, I could be making much of nothing. Perhaps this shadowy figure was merely traveling in the same direction as I. The possibility amused me, though not near enough to completely ameliorate my concerns. I considered what I knew of the Vigilants. I should have done more due-diligence regarding them, but I had thought my identity iron-clad. What reason would any of them have to suspect me? What would they even suspect me of? The most famous of them was Velvetcall and Guesswork. They held seniority and led the Vigilants, at least in a loose fashion. They also owned the most worrisome abilities, which also contributed to their fame, or more likely, their notoriety. Then came Indom and Vector. One able to force others to focus upon him while weathering most attacks without suffering permanent harm; the other some form of poisoner. The most recent pair to join the Vigilants were also the least well known, Jubilance and Flicker. Other than creating constructs of hard light, not much was known of Jubilance. Less was known of Flicker, except that they were fast. The Vigilants all operated in pairs, a Radiant and their Shadow. It served more for their branding and aesthetics than any practical purpose, but such was the Princess¡¯ prerogative. My stomach began churning for no apparent reason. Perhaps stress. Having a vigilant tail me was stressful; such a visceral reaction would not be unusual. But I thought this one was worse than the situation would demand, and I thought that I knew why. It was because the Vigilants belonged to Princess Marissa. A chill ran down my spine and my tail-bone began throbbing fiercely. That gave me pause. My sinuses still ached. My bones felt confined. My toes trapped¡­ even my breasts, while never of an ungainly size and always bound tight, even then, they felt saggy and awkward and altogether alien. What was happening? My Guise had never failed before, except to leave me with certain cravings for raw and red meat. And certainly it left me weaker for its sustained activation, but never so much as to cause such sharp pains, at least not unless I was actively donning or doffing it. Of which I was doing neither. So then, why? Why was this happening now? Was it the Vigilant¡¯s doing? Or something else? My parasitic false-arm had not been exonerated of blame either. As I sought to identify the source of malaise, once more the figure crossed my field of vision as they jumped an intersection. While they soon passed out of sight, I was able to see that they wore a familiar mask. And while I could not say with much certainty which of the Vigilants they were, given their stature and color choice, and design of their white phantom-esque mask, I thought it likely that this was Guesswork. Worrisome, of all the Vigilants to tail me, this was one of the worst. She was a psychic, although not nearly as powerful as Belobog, at least according to Belobog¡¯s own assessment. Belobog was able to pick up on some surface thoughts, should they be loud enough. More often, she could perceive emotions in some sort of localized but omniscient sixth sense. And of course, she could also affect surface thoughts and emotions, at least to some extent, although not with any degree of precision or delicateness. My arm began itching in the familiar way it did when a Mark was about to grow. Without looking, I thought it likely to be my Flexibility Sigil. This might have explained the steadiness that I felt. For while I was feeling unease, it largely stemmed from my physical discomfort, which had a much different flavor than the fear of exposure and entrapment. Even with the Mark, I needed to lose my tail. At least if I wanted to continue on to Laverna¡¯s Cup. I supposed I could always reverse my course and return to Ma¡¯Ritz, although to make such a sudden turnabout might be found suspicious, at least if I lacked a reason to have made it all this way to begin with. Another block came and went, and I caught sight of a quant looking tavern, one carved into the slate hillside itself, located as an externally accessible basement below another storefront. The stairs leading down were kept clean, and the frosted glass of the door was marked with gold lettering. Without so much as a second thought, I altered my course and squeezed past a loitering couple to descend the stairs and enter the tavern. Just after I stepped inside I suffered another wave of pain. It appeared I was not the sole one to suffer, as my false-arm twitched and coiled as though in preparation to lash out before spasming and partiall ylosing cohesion. As it had tendrils spread throughout my body to anchor itself, its spasming only worsened my pain. I may have stumbled a step. My false arm appeared to writhe and lengthen even beneath the sleeve of my jacket. Were it not for the dim lighting of the tavern I was sure to have garnered unwanted attention. As it was though, I made it to a stool at the bar before collapsing into it as though I were a much heavier drunk. The barkeep, at least, was amicable enough. ¡°Seems like you¡¯ve had a day,¡± he said. I shrugged, not quite trusting my voice just yet to respond. When I failed to respond verbally, he merely shrugged the slight off. ¡°What¡¯re ya having?¡± He asked. I nodded towards a tapped barrel and fumbeled a Charger onto the bar-top. ¡°Ale it is,¡± he said, pouring a tankard before sliding to me. ¡°Call if you need something. I feel like you¡¯re not in a chatty sorta mood.¡± I nodded in thanks. He pocketed the Charger which was worth at least double the tankard he served, before he ambeled a few steps away and granting me the semblance of peace. I took a pull off the tankard to at least appear normal, but just after the foam met my lips another wave of pain traveled down my spine and seemed to travel a bit further besides, almost as though my spine were protruding from my skin, almost as though my Guise was reverting. This was unprecedented. My right arm burned and tingled but that was hardly noticeable over everything else. The ale spilled down my front. My expression was pained, but I hoped it came across as irritated. I caught the barkeep¡¯s eye as ale spilled down my chin and the front of my shirt and saw him wince. I did not trust myself to speak, my tongue was beginning to feel too long and ill fitting and my cheeks began to ache. Fortunately, my question was obvious, and being on Blossom Hill, we were not in such an impoverished community that would prohibit a public washroom. ¡°Why don¡¯t you get cleaned up a bit, and I¡¯ll pour you a fresh one, on the house. It¡¯s down on back,¡± he finished with a gesture of his head. I nodded in gratitude and almost stumbled as I dismounted the stool and began an almost drunken walk. While the tavern was hardly full, it made my drunken gait all the more noticeable. ¡°Bit early to be that sloshed,¡± one of the men commented as I passed. ¡°Probably a whore,¡± a nasty woman commented, likely jealous I had taken some of the attention off of herself. I would have rolled my eyes at that, or commented on her choice of companions. But as it was, I barely managed to hear her. My ears were ringing and burning and almost twitching. By the time I reached the washroom and shut the door behind me, my ears were definitely twitching. Fortunately, the washroom was empty when I entered, not that I had the wherewithal to perform a thorough check. I glanced about as I shut the door behind me then slumped back against it holding it shut. Sweat had begun running down my forehead. By this point, the pain was worse than a session with an Inquisitor. At least in torture, pain was localized or understood. One knew exactly what was happening and why. But currently, I was hurting everywhere, and I had little idea as to the cause. It seemed that every bone of my body was shifting. It was getting worse. Another wave, another gasp. A shudder ran through me. My knuckles and jaw cracked. Mother take it! The pain overwhelmed me and I took the one action I could think of to ameliorate the pain, even if that action seemed incredibly foolish. My Guise began to revert, and while the transformation ordinarily brought discomfort, in this instance, I found only relief. Normally the change would take minutes to complete. This time, it seemed to move somewhat faster, as though my body were eager to escape its human form. If it was my Guise that had been the issue to begin with, that did leave me wondering the reason. I could not imagine fates much worse than feeling such a degree of suffering, always increasing and never abating. My spine lengthened and my tailbone began pushing against my pants. I reached behind and fumbled with a button to make space, but found my fingers slipping as my nails sharpened and grew. My height increased and my chest shrank. My bodice hung loose and awkward. Lavender fur grew and hid my skin completely, silky, long, and particularly lush about my neck in an almost mane. The almost-mane was new. My nose and mouth elongated and began dominating my vision as they became a snout. Whisters itched. My sense of smell grew and I caught whiff of my own scent-glands. My vision shifted, grew sharper, more focused, and less colorful. The creaks and cracks and groaning flesh seemed deafening as my ears shifted upward. Even more deafening was the knock that came at the door when somebody made an abortive attempt to open it. They spoke and I recognized the voice as the barkeep, likely coming to check on me, or perhaps someone had reported strange noises. Either way, I was not prepared to escape just yet. My tongue finished lengthening, but my tail was still expanding and my ankles and feet were shifting awkwardly. ¡°Everything okay in there miss? Been in there a bit, yeah. Ales getting warm.¡± I still needed more time. A silence would rouse suspicion and likely see him pushing to enter. I took the risk to speak, and found my voice somewhat changed and raspier than before. I found myself thankful that he had not the chance to hear me speak, as there was a stark difference from before and after. ¡°I-it was a b-bit worse than I thought,¡± I managed to bite out, my tongue catching on my canines; some sounds required more effort than others. I had forgotten how irksome speaking with a muzzle could be, and I decided to practice further in case this situation came up again. I continued. ¡°But I¡¯ll be out soon. Keep the flies outta my drink, yeah?¡± I finished with an informal twang, attempting to garner sympathy by mirroring his mannerisms. ¡°Sure, sure. Holler if you need me.¡± He stepped away from the door and I could hear his footsteps as he made his way back behind the bar. I could hear so much more than before. It was as if there were an explosion of sounds. Even the couple loitering out front spoke loudly enough that I could nearly hear them plainly. Since when had my hearing improved to such an extent? I had to wonder the cause of this. Seconds later, my transformation ended and was shifted my bodice to tighten it against my flat chest. I finished securing my pants about my tail as well. My boots felt awkward with they new shape my feet took, and it was tempting to take them off altogether. But then I would be required to carry them, and I was unsure if I wanted to feel the sticky taproom floor against my bare feet. I decided to leave the boots on for the time being. Instead, I focused on my plan to escape the tavern without raising a fuss. Fortunately, with my Guise dropped, my stores of Spirit were increasing rapidly. Which meant I could once more cast Illusions without frugality. I knew just what I needed as well. My canines revealed themselves in an almost smile that came across as more of a snarl. I would need to work on expressions, but later. ¡°Illusion.¡± Shadows seemed to flicker across the floor as they conglomerated upon myself. It felt much more potent than before, and I could not be certain if I was solely misremembering how my Illusions looked, or if something else had changed to affect them. Regardless of the reason, my form was completely obscured with a camouflaging shadow that almost seemed to writhe and match my surroundings. Trusting in my Talents for Stealth, I cracked the door, confirmed none was immediately beyond and waiting, and I slipped through. I moved quickly, hugging the far side of the tavern near the seedy booths. The barkeep kept glancing towards the washroom as he cleaned the same mug over and over. The nasty woman was sneering and laughing with an unflattering bray.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Another man glanced her way, eyes passing over me as I moved. I tensed, but he just glossed over me, ignoring me. That was not from my Illusions, I thought. More likely, my Talents towards Stealth and Evasion. And even should his eyes pass over me, the tavern was still dimly lit, while the braying woman was illuminated by a lantern over her table. It made sense that he failed to detect me, even if I had thought there was something more involved. I reached the entrance and slipped through, not even pausing when the bell rang. The couple was still loitering, but were enamored with their discussion. I slipped between them, leaving a breaze in my wake. One of them noticed, the other sneezed. The next second I was sprinting down the sidewalk, keeping close to the buildings, gaining distance quickly. Another second. I risked a glance behind. None were following, at least not overtly. But the sky was still light out. A shadow moving along the street would be noticed, even in the gloomy light. I hoped that the Vigilants were not watching this particular corner of a building and I climbed, scurried, perhaps nearly flew, up the wall, ascending faster than I had ever done before. I caught myself wondering just how much faster I could have been had my feet been bared and not crammed into ill-fitting boots. I cleared the rooftop and took in the surroundings. Several buildings down, I saw Guesswork watching the back of the tavern. Which implied someone was watchingthe front. Evening was not far off. Shadows were growing more frequent. My mind was constant and flat, thanks to Flexibility, I was sure. I sprinted and cleared the intersection and the next before I felt my reserves of Spirit run dry and dropped the cloak. By then I was moving quickly, taking full advantage of my tail, my light weight, and my Talents. Now, more than ever, I needed to reach Laverna¡¯s Cup. My Guise had never failed before. I was unsure I could continue maintaining my existing life. I knew no other I could ask and received help from. Two blocks from Laverna¡¯s Cup, I found a corner between a turret and a balustrade and took stock. There I crouched, hidden from below and blending with the turret¡¯s shadow. There I remained, perhaps fifteen minutes, but no less than ten. My delay there allowed me to verify I had long since lost my tail. Of course, I had already thought that this was the case, but better to pause and confirm than to hurry and fall victim to an untimely surprise. As I crouched there and listened, I marveled at just how much I heard, smelled, saw, and felt. The city was alive with greetings and lively conversations coupled with scents of cooking as dinners were prepared. After some time, I decided I had wasted enough of it and I ran the rest of the way to Laverna¡¯s Cup, pausing once more across the street and atop a roof. Other than a woman walking before her pet Kunbeorn. In all fairness, the Kunbeorn appeared well groomed and cared for, not that a compassionate enslaver was necessarily better than any other kind. But when I saw the Kunbeorn, I froze and watched with bated breath, worried that the slightest movement or sound would betray my presence, even if they were on the pedestrian walkway and I was several buildings away on top of a roof. A part of me felt loathing. Despite the fact that the humans practiced slavery, it was easy to forget that fact. In fact, I preferred forgetting that fact. My own neck itched in empathy when I saw the silver collar about this Kunbeorn¡¯s neck. I doubted that the Kunbeorn would betray their master on behalf of some unknown variable. I doubted that the Kunbeorn would appreciate that others within the very same city, of the very same non-human status, enjoyed their freedom. I doubted that this Kunbeorn even wanted my help. Why would I even consider such? I pushed these intrusive thoughts aside and continued my observation as they continued walking away from my position. While I could not make out the Kunbeorn¡¯s face, I saw their cheeks and ears twitch. I could imagine them tasting the air with their whiskers, if their biology worked that way. I was unsure of just where the differences lay between myself and the typical, cat-like beast people. Our tails were different, my ears longer, my muzzle sharper, and our hindlimbs were constructed differently, with my own seeming to have an extra joint in the ankle. Again, intrusive thoughts. Unwelcome and unhelpful. The woman and her pet turned the corner, now exiting my range of sight. The street remained empty otherwise, and I could spot no evidence of bystanders or hidden observers. Despite the street appearing deserted, I took no chances. I cloaked myself in an Illusion once more and jumped from the roof. Wind whistled through my fur and my tail acted instinctively to control my descent. With my weight reduction Talent, I barely noticed the impact when I hit the street and I finished darting over towards the entrance to Laverna¡¯s Cup. Before opening the door, I placed my ear to it, sparing several seconds to listen. I only heard one person, although I supposed another could be there as well with subdued or silent vitals. I also found myself surprised when I was able to hear what seemed to be a heartbeat. Had my senses always been this grand? Perhaps I could test them out later, when I was not exposed on the side of the street. My Illusion remained up, just in case I had failed to detect an inhabitant besides Joe, and I pushed into the dimly lit tavern, of an obviously worse quality than the previous tavern I had visited. Despite the gloom, my eyes adjusted to the shadows instantly and confirmed that there was only Joe serving as the sole occupant. Joe frowned at the door, his eyes glancing off of my shadowed form before returning. He frowned. The door shut behind me, better covering me now that I was not silhouetted. His eyes darted to my left and right, seemingly having trouble staying upon me. As he was arguably an ally, I allowed my Illusion to drop. I made my way towards the bar. ¡°Unexpected,¡± Joe said. His voice remained neutral, unaffected by ire nor pleasure, although I only had reason to believe he would be feeling some annoyance at my presence. The fact he sounded absent of all emotion helped to confirm some of my suspicions regarding the man. ¡°You were to remain at a distance and refrain from suspicious activity. What reason do you have for coming here so brazenly?¡± For some reason, perhaps the freedom of dropping my Guise, perhaps the endorphins from surviving a tremendously painful event, I found myself speaking with irreverence, coming across as colloquial. Tonight was seemingly just full of interesting observations and self-discovery. ¡°Be at ease, Joe. Today has been a trial, and arriving here and now seemed appropriate. At the very least, the least bad option available to take.¡± ¡°Explain.¡± It failed to escape my notice that Joe¡¯s hands were resting palm side up beneath the underside of the counter. I came and leaned against the bar where i could quickly drop down for cover, should he prove hostile. My ears twitched at even the slightest sound, even the footsteps along the other side of hte street. My whiskers felt every current of air, and I could smell Joe, he faint scent of ozone, and then the overpowering scent of spilt ale gone sour. My true-form came with benefits that I had forgotten while suffering under my Guise. My tail and paws felt far more natural than the human counterpart, akin to removing a too-tight bra at the end of the day. Why I had forced myself to endure a Guise, I was unsure. Granted, having the body of a beast was somewhat different, but it was not as though I could clearly remember my original body, and the only comparison I had to a human form came with a gnawing itch. All of this had been passing through my head as I hopped roofs and kept to the shadows. I had no fear of being followed. I left no tracks, and with my stealth, my Illusions, and my flexible mind, I had every confidence in avoiding Guesswork. Likely, she still thought I remained in the tavern I had ditched my Guise in. The thought of her scratching her head in confusion after wasting several hours watching that establishment was somewhat amusing. Joe snapped his fingers before my face. My eyes honed in on the movement, my pupils narrowed to slits, and my ears pressed backwards. That had been louder than comfortable. ¡°Head in the game,¡± Joe said. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want somebody to walk in and see you this way, now would you?¡± He was resuming his facade of friendly behavior, though not well enough to convince me of his merriment. Likely the choice to lightly don this facade was intentional. I doubted the man truly felt emotions, at least not as an ordinary human would. Emotions came with a stink, and he lacked that altogether. ¡°I would detect anyone approaching before they entered,¡± I said. Joe crossed his arms, having likely determined that hostilities were unlikely. That, or he pressed a button to alert the rest of the crew. I could not be certain either way, but having his hands where I could see them brought some relief. ¡°A needless risk, still.¡± ¡°Perhaps,¡± I said. ¡°And you still haven¡¯t explained why you waltzed through the front door looking like¨C¡± he paused to obviously look over my form ¡°-that. In that form I mean. Not that the form itself is a problem, but the attention it would draw is.¡± ¡°I arrived unseen,¡± I said simply. ¡°A needless risk, still. You could have, should have, entered through the back, or the roof. There is an entrance up there.¡± I blinked. ¡°I had not known of the access through the roof.¡± ¡°Hm. But you did know of the door in the back.¡± ¡°I did, and I also knew that I lacked a key,¡± I said. ¡°Please,¡± he said. He allowed a space, as though he considered and decided against scoffing, before continuing. ¡°As if a locked door would prove any barrier to you. You wouldn¡¯t be much of an interest to us if that was so.¡± There was an implicit threat there, I thought. Either I was incapable and in danger of obsolescence, or I was capable and requiring discipline. But as it remained implicit, I could hardly dispute the threat without acknowledging it and granting it some semblance of existence. I chose to ignore it altogether, at least for now. Instead, I explained myself. ¡°Picking the lock still would have required a moment, and doing so would risk exposure as well. It would have taken longer than slipping through the front under Illusion, which was hardly a risk at all. You yourself confirmed the efficacy of my skills.¡± ¡°Use the sky-light next time,¡± he said, letting the manner of access drop, likely the best I would achieve in this almost-argument. He then clicked his tongue in disapproval, although his tone shifted upwards slightly, growing a fraction friendlier than just seconds prior. ¡°Why travel looking like you do, anyways? It must have been intentional, and I had not thought you one to flaunt your¡­ baser, nature.¡± My eyes narrowed at the possible slight. I had not thought Joe to be the sort to discriminate against non-humans, especially considering the Meohr twins. However, it may have been a ploy, to needle me and discover just where I fell in regards to sensitivity. I would not put such a minor test beyond him, though petty it seemed. ¡°And that is a question I would very much wish to answer for myself, as well,¡± I said. His eyes widened as my answer caught him off guard. ¡°I had been traveling beneath my Guise when I encountered an unforeseen situation. I managed to make my way here safely, and doubled back several times to verify I suffered no tail¨C¡± as I said that, my literal tail swayed behind me and dusted my right shoulder, as if to remind both myself and Joe of its presence. I ignored this, and so did Joe. His eyes never left my own in an intense stare down ¡°-however, the need to come here only grew with the event. Additionally,¡± I hurried to add before Joe cut in. ¡°This was another reason for my use of the front door. Should my skills have been so defeated, would you rather the front of house be implicated, or the back.¡± ¡°Ideally? Neither. That argument is sh¨C¡± he began to swear, but cut himself off as my ears flicked towards the front entrance. Footsteps were approaching the door, a possible passerby, or a possible patron. I would not know until either they passed by or entered through the door, and by that point it would be too late. Joe gestured towards the service walkway that led further back into the building. ¡°Go find Belobog,¡± he said simply. I nodded and ducked around the side of the bar towards the service hallway. But before I completely left the tavern, Joe added an ominous word. ¡°Jackie?¡± he said. The footsteps stopped at the door. ¡°Don¡¯t make this type of mistake again,¡± Joe finished. The door pushed open, and I disappeared around the corner of the service hall, letting the door swing shut behind me as the newcomer walked in. From behind me, I could hear Joe¡¯s friendly voice as he spoke with a well practiced smile. ¡°Welcome, yeah?¡± Joe said. ¡°What can I get ya? Some warm ale, maybe¡­?¡± The reply was muted as I left the taproom behind and climbed the stairs up to the loft. A door slammed somewhere else in the building, a shop front or back-door perhaps, but not immediately in my vicinity. The sudden noise still caused me to almost jump. When I pushed into the loft, I did jump. ¡°Sup girl,¡± Ay said, speaking louder than was strictly necessary. I had just entered and had yet to take stock of the room. Fixing that, I scanned the loft. She was the only one with me, currently. She was lounging on a reinforced leather couch. Given that leather was sourced from Meohr, the fact she rested upon it with such a blase attitude was curious. I refrained from asking upon it as I was sure it would be a sore point, either from the fact her species were used as livestock, or because she was oft asked that same question. Unaware of my observation, Ay continued after giving me a lazy nod, barely lifting her head from the armrest. ¡°What¡¯re you doing ¡®round here?¡± she asked, slurring only slightly. If it was a deliberate affectation, I could not determine, butI did notice that the scent of alcohol was faint upon her breath, not near so much to be overwhelming her ability to speak clearly. ¡°It was my hope to find Belobog.¡± ¡°Huh. Didn¡¯t think she swung that way,¡± Ay said. ¡°And ain¡¯t you with what¡¯s her face?¡± That gave me a moment¡¯s pause. ¡°How would you¡­¡± I started to ask before thinking better of it and instead chose to correct her erroneous claim. ¡°I am unaware if Belobog does or does not, but that question is unrelated to my purpose. I had hoped to discuss several happenings with her. Is she available?¡± As I spoke, I needed to do something besides hovering near the door, and I decided to take a casual position at the bar. It seemed to be a theme for me and I wondered if the fact I had found myself at a bartop three times within the past two hours meant anything deeper than happenstance. But in this case, I thought it justified, as the bar had open-back stools. While I could likely find a comfortable position sitting on a couch if I tried, I was unwilling to embarrass myself by experimenting in front of Ay. Ay smirked as she saw me twist around the stool so that I could rest an arm on the counter as I somewhat faced her. If she knew my reasons for sitting there, I doubted it. She could not have been that observant. To prove my assumption, she chuckled and asked for gossip. ¡°Oh? Something juicy?¡± Ay asked. Her long tongue made a somewhat lascivious gesture and left my stomach churning in nausea. I may have grimaced. Ay¡¯s smirk grew into a somewhat genuine smile, judging by the mirth in her pigmentless eyes. ¡°If the topic was juicy or not would depend on one¡¯s definitions. To me, they were inconvenient and worrisome. But to each, their own.¡± She guffawed. ¡°Uh-huh. Well, I might be into that, might not. I¡¯d hafta hear about it first to decide, yeah?¡± I remained silent. ¡°But¡­ alright, just gonna come out and ask then. Why you lookin all fine and furry right now? Thought you liked pretending to be one of them¡­¡± ¡°Humans?¡± I said, finishing her thought. ¡°Yeah, them. So why?¡± She made a show of sitting up with a groan and eyeing me up and down. ¡°Not that I mind of course. Just curious.¡± ¡°One of the topics I wished to discuss with Belobog pertains to that same question.¡± ¡°Why you wanna ask her? She wouldn¡¯t know much. Basically human anyways, with some extra bits.¡± I considered Ay. Perhaps I had been overly dismissive of her. While she acted like a fool, I knew as well as anyone that appearances more often ran false than true. What I wanted to ask was not exactly sensitive, at least no more than anything else that the crew already knew of me. I decided to try, rolling my shoulders in an almost shrug. ¡°As I made my way here, I found my Guise to grow unstable. The pain escalated until I allowed it to revert. This behavior was atypical, and caused some concern.¡± She pawed her chin in an overly dramatic rendition of thought, but with a comical take. At least, I hoped that comical take was intentional. To be safe, I gave no signs of humor. She snorted and waved it off. ¡°You been wearing that human skin for a while?¡± This was not sensitive information. Had anyone from the crew thought on this matter, they would have arrived at this conclusion. As it was giving nothing away, I nodded. ¡°And it just started hurting today? Nothing before now?¡± She appeared dubious. I shrugged. ¡°Or maybe it¡¯s been wearing at ya? Getting worse till you couldn¡¯t stand it no more, huh?¡± I remained silent, considering. Looking back, there had been signs of strain, irritability, and general shortness towards others. There had been some aches and pains that seemed to only grow. But I had blamed this upon my false-arm, and just generally being alive. Ay was grinning now, as though she had me where she wanted. I thought that she was taking more pleasure from this discourse than she ought. It left me suspicious of her motives. ¡°Maybe you been having some strange cravings? Or feeling weaker? Joints feelin all tender-like?¡± That observation felt far too accurate. This, combined with something she had mentioned earlier, made my suspicions double. Had she been spying upon me? How would I have failed to notice? What here her Talents, exactly, I wondered. I decided I needed to ask. ¡°How would you even¨C¡± I began, but she cut me off. ¡°I¡¯m not blind, you know,¡± Ay said. ¡°Not dumb, either.¡± I paused, canting my head slightly, confused, before finally saying, ¡°I would not correlate blindness with failing to notice these facts.¡± ¡°Ha. But I¡¯d hafta be blind not ta see it. Least if you know what you¡¯re looking for.¡± She stretched, yawned, and lumbered to her feet. ¡°Well, that¡¯s a nap ruined. Think I¡¯ll go bug Bee a bit. You want Belobog, yeah?¡± I nodded slowly while digesting what she had said. ¡°I¡¯ll send her on in,¡± Ay said. ¡°Go ahead and take an actual sit-down and get comfortable.¡± I glanced at my tail as it swept into my field of view from where I uncomfortably sat upon a stool. Ay chuckled. ¡°Pro-tip,¡± she said. ¡°Use a pillow between your back and the couch. Should help with that.¡± Then, with a wink, Ay traveled further into the Loft, out of the recreational area and into the hall where the crews¡¯ private rooms were. I heard her knocking, but not her voice. It seemed she had simply knocked on the door and kept walking to her own room, or to Bee¡¯s. Likely, Ay figured that actually telling Belobog was unnecessary. Likely, telling her anything would steal the enjoyment Belobog would feel guessing and then lording over everyone around her. Soon, Belobog came back out. Noticeably, there were two emerald nubs protruding from her temples, They might have been the starting growths of horns. Normally she would have hidden them with a hair-band, at least when I had seen her in the past. Of course, the nubs were not nearly so large then. ¡°Yeah, haven¡¯t needed to grind them down.¡± ¡°Are they always growing, then?¡± I asked. I was unsure of the species that Belobog was, if she was a separate species at all. It may have simply been a deviation. There may have also been other non-human traits hidden beneath her baggy clothes. A lot could be hidden with enough care and practice. ¡°Mhmm,¡± Belobog said. ¡°There might be. And they do grow, way too quickly¡­ But, it is what it is.¡± ¡°Does it hurt when you sand or grind¨C¡± I began to ask, unsure of the correct terminology to use here. She may have used a saw, for all I knew. However, before I could continue this train of thought, she cut me off. ¡°Yeah¡­ but no. Much as I like talking about myself¡­¡± she paused, hugging herself slightly and shrinking in on herself, but only for an instant. The second I made that observation, she firmed back up and slipped back beneath a veil of confident nonchalance. With her likely-feigned nonchalance, Belobog tossed herself onto the couch, barely denting the cushion. Instead she slid into the divot that Ay had left when Ay had sat up. She grinned up at me. I frowned in return. She rolled her eyes. ¡°So¡­¡± she said. ¡°You got some good reasons to come here, yeah? Otherwise Joe¡¯s gonna get pissy. Laying low was the client¡¯s idea, by the way.¡± ¡°I had thought you were psychic,¡± I said. I had always wondered just how far her abilities extended, and if my Marks had grown to provide an adequate defense. It seemed that that point had not yet come. ¡°You thought that, and I thought you¡¯d appreciate a sense of privacy, yeah?¡± Of course, she might just be cold-reading with a dash of Talent assistance. At least, that was what I suspected was the case. ¡°Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, babe.¡± Belobog was grinning now. It almost touched her eyes. I would not be able to determine the extent of her Talents one way or another, at least not with this visit. Someday, perhaps. Rather than continue in speculation, I explained why I had made the trip. ¡°I have three reasons for having come,¡± I said. ¡°Uh-huh,¡± Belobog said, making a rolling motion with her hand as though to hurry my explanation. I narrowed my eyes and took another breath in a pause. She smiled, but allowed me the small power play. ¡°The first, Sir Kate Gaurson has rather forcibly recruited me to join her on an excursion into the Under.¡± I took another breath and I saw her wince. ¡°The excursion is planned to take up to a week.¡± ¡°Sucks,¡± she said, before chortling with a derisive tone that bothered me. ¡°Before we get on to the rest of your spiel, I gotta say a couple of things that might come across as awkward. Might wanna sit down for this.¡± Technically, I was sitting. I had ignored Ay¡¯s advice to use a pillow and had remained on the stool, partially reclining against the counter. ¡°Alright, sure, guess that counts,¡± Belobog said. After the theatrics, she finally continued. ¡°So, you¡¯re acting like you don¡¯t have a choice in the matter, that Kate¡¯s forcing your hand. But you coulda said no.¡± My mouth opened slightly. I tasted the leather and sweat and musk and liquor of the rec room. I also tasted the lack of deceit coming off Belobog. Not that she was telling the truth, but none of the usual tells were there. Her heartbeat remained constant, her posture remained relaxed, her coloring unchanging. My mouth clicked shut. ¡°Yeah. Just something to think about. Next, since you¡¯re going there with Sir Kate Gaurson, daughter of the Captain of Southbridge¡¯s High Knights, it might be relevant for you to know how some of the communities down there work. For context, High Knights are charged with protecting borders, particularly regarding commerce and smuggling and whatnot.¡± I had already known this to be the case. Kate had explained the differences more than once, and I had since come to an understanding regarding the different types of government forces. ¡°Yeah, I know you know. But did you know smugglers are use the Under? That certain parties might be hostile to your butch girlfriend if they recognized her?¡± I was not dating Sir Kate. ¡°Keep telling yourself that.¡± My lips curled up in a snarl and my ears flicked back. ¡°Anyways, you were saying? Two more things to go, right?¡± It took some effort to release the tension along my lips and to reset myself. Retaining a placid expression took much more effort outside of my Guise. ¡°Yep, we¡¯ll get to that too.¡± I may have growled just slightly before hurrying to speak before Belobog continued to irritate me and incite me towards violence. ¡°While traveling to here from Ma¡¯Ritz, with the goal of informing you of my planned absence¨C¡± ¡°-good of you-¡± ¡°-I discovered I was being followed.¡± ¡°Wait-wait-wait! You were followed here?!I¡± I may have derived some pleasure from Belobog¡¯s surprise. I also felt somewhat insulted. ¡°-No,¡± I said with disdain. ¡°As though I would be so foolish. No. I lost them. But why was I followed in the first place? And by a Vigilant no less?¡± ¡°Did you see which one it was? Any details? Mode of travel?¡± ¡°I believe it was Guesswork. If it was her, she was traveling by rooftop.¡± ¡°What about Velvetcall?¡± ¡°No. I did not see him.¡± ¡°I mean, it¡¯s a bit concerning¡­¡± Belobog said before trailing off in thought. ¡°It¡¯s concerning, but maybe not so bad as a blown cover. They would have cracked down a bit harder if that was the case, or we would have heard something. It¡¯s probably for the best you¡¯re heading out for this excursion of yours. It¡¯ll give me some time to figure this out.¡± ¡°Do you have any suspicions?¡± I asked, hopeful that I would have something more concrete. ¡°Just suspicions. You know the Vigilants usually go in pairs¨C¡± ¡°-a Radiant and a Shadow, yes.¡± ¡°-right. Did you know they¡¯re about your age? Attending the Academy?¡± I glared. ¡°I was the one that reported that.¡± ¡°First of all, I already knew that. I just played your report up to build your self-esteem.¡± My glare grew in intensity and she laughed it off. ¡°But here¡¯s what I¡¯m thinking. You got any jealous classmates? Maybe somebody¡¯s got a crush on Kate? Or on you?¡± Thinking of Kate¡¯s brash manner, the only person I could think of that would be interested was Silverborn, but he was most definitely not Guesswork. ¡°Like I said, I¡¯ll be digging into this. It might be a lead though on their identities.¡± That could prove useful. She clapped her hands. ¡°Right! And your third reason¨CI¡¯m guessing this is why you¡¯re looking like that?¡± ¡°Yes. As I dodged Guesswork, I entered a tavern. While there, the pains I had been feeling grew worse and my Guise reverted.¡± ¡°Ouch. But kinda makes sense. You probably noticed some differences too? Between now and when you dropped your ¡®Guise¡¯ last?¡± My senses and abilities did seem further developed than normal. My fur felt thicker, especially about my chest and neck. I did not have such volume previously. ¡°Yep, you noticed. Alright, another quickie¨Ca question, I mean a question.¡± In the distance, I heard Ay cackle. Belobog muttered under her breath, and were it not for my incredibly sharp hearing, I might have missed it. ¡°...perverts¡­¡± Belobog said in a grumble. I ignored the by-play, uninterested in involving myself in such nonsense. ¡°So, yeah. You got that¡­ arm? Sure, let¡¯s call it arm.¡± I glanced down at my false-arm, the symbiote, the maybe-parasite. ¡°Yep. Going with that. So that¡¯s part of it. It¡¯s making changes and prefers yourself versus your¡­ not-self? Probably a better way to put it, but you know what I mean.¡± ¡°Would it not transform with the rest of me, in or out of my Guise?¡± She shrugged indecisively. ¡°And would this problem not have occurred earlier?¡± I have had my Guise and my false-arm for months. This was the first time my Guise had grown unstable. It seemed rather sudden, even if there were signs leading up to this. ¡°Well, yeah, that¡¯s true. Maybe a long-term contributing factor. The other thing¡¯s probably what triggered the whole ordeal,¡± Belobog said, slipping in and out of her usual irritating tone. ¡°And the second, more important of them. You got a new mark for the Grace Path.¡± Yes, I had received the Mark. One of Courtly Dancing with an Affinity towards Treachery. I wondered if it was the affinity that made the difference. I had not expected the Mark¡¯s affinity to turn my own Spell against me. If so, then likely an inferior material would have been preferable. As I considered this, Belobog continued. ¡°You got it while under your Guise?¡± A wave of something coursed through me, similar to when a person received bad news. I found myself wishing that I had taken her previous offer to sit down. I felt somewhat unstable currently, resting atop a stool though I was. Belobog looked sympathetic at least. ¡°And you so happened to fail mentioning this tidbit? You knew I was planning on receiving a new Mark!¡± I snapped, a weak anger, more akin to a frustration than anything, lacing my voice. Then, in a weaker voice, I added, ¡°Why was I not warned?¡± ¡°We thought you were going to use the Skingineer. She would have warned you about receiving it while under the influence of¡­ anything, really.¡± Thinking back to that horrid Sacred Artist, he had made a warning. But Kate had been there. And I could have hardly trusted the Sacred Artist¡¯s indiscretion, even if she had not been. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, I¡¯m sorry about it.¡± I took several breaths to center myself. I felt some embarrassment over having blamed Belobog, having lashed out as a child would. The mistake was my own; I could have taken precautions. But, what was done, was done. It was time to look forward. ¡°What does this mean?¡± I asked. ¡°Is my Guise still usable?¡± Belobog nodded. ¡°Should be. It¡¯s just less stable than before. Maybe every once in a while, when it starts hurting, slip away to refresh it.¡± She shrugged. ¡°Best I can tell you. It¡¯s not really a science. But!¡± she clapped her hands. ¡°It¡¯s not all bad. Should be an equal number of benefits, even.¡± ¡°How?¡± I asked. ¡°You need to ask that?¡± she said while smirking. Even if I had to figure it out on my own, I hardly wanted to beg for an answer. Especially after she said it like¡­ that. ¡°Alright. Moving on,¡± she said. ¡°Happier things and all that. With you heading down into the Under, this tidbit might be more relevant than before. You wanted the Alchemist Charson, yeah?¡± The change in topics was welcome, if somewhat jarring to change my mode of thought. ¡°Well, it just so happens that we¡¯ve found evidence that he¡¯s down in the Under. Kinda convenient, you think?¡± ¡°A little too convenient, yes.¡± ¡°Well, you say that, but the Under is a very, very big place. It¡¯s unlikely you¡¯ll stumble across him.¡± A pinch from my false-arm¡¯s tendrils around my clavicle, a reminder of its presence, of its desires. How much it understood, I was unsure. But with it attached to me, I could hardly risk going back on my deal with Emboru. Even without the parasite, I still wanted my Egg back. Emboru still kept that as ¡®collateral.¡¯ Although, perhaps Emboru hanging onto it was a benefit. I had hardly seen anyone else with tamed animals. Meaning they were either incredibly rare, or kept out of sight through some cultural norm I was unaware of. And thinking of Emboru and the Wyrkwyk, or Mucary as they preferred¡­ where had they gone? I would have thought they would have been an issue by now. Although given the lackadaisical government, it would be unsurprising if everyone considered the infestation to be ¡®somebody else¡¯s¡¯ problem. Belobog snapped her fingers. My eyes snapped to hers in turn. ¡°With me now?¡± she asked. ¡°Like I said, lots of stuff is done there. Big place. Including Charson. Least from what I can tell.¡± I wanted to ask her how she knew this, but given her penchant for theatrics and non-answers, I refrained and instead kept to a much more relevant question. ¡°How would I find him?¡± I asked. ¡°Look for some deviants and ask them. Especially if they have a certain¡­ look about them,¡± she finished, her eyes lingering on my false arm. ¡°Are you certain these are deviants and not¡­¡± ¡°Infested?¡± she asked, amused but also not. I almost nodded, but decided against it. Instead, I watched her warily. She blinked, then grinned. This did not ameliorate my suspicions. ¡°Yeah, pretty sure,¡± she added. ¡°Deviants. If they aren¡¯t¡­ well. Might be time to start looking into moving.¡± Symbiotic Parasite (aka false-arm) 4.3 Tendrils, approximately 1.5 yards in length, unspooled. Talents:
  • Athleticism I (3/9):
    • Climbing I (5/9)
      • Featherlight I (4/9)
      • Inversion (2/9)
    • Gymnastics (5/9)
  • Stealth II (2/9)
    • Trackless Tracks I (6/9)
      • Area Coverage (6/9)
    • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
    • Unnatural Concealment: (2/9)
  • Eschiver I (3/9)
    • Evasion I (3/9)
      • Impending Sense (6/9)
    • Lucky Break I (3/9)
      • Chance Encounter (5/9)
  • Courtly Dancing: Treachery (7/9) (+1)
    • Flexibility I (1/9) (+1)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (8/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune I (2/9)
    • Malleable Form: 3/9 (+1)
  • Passive Enervation: (3/9)
Gifts:
  • Obsession (5/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.6.3 ¡°And, we¡¯re here!¡± Kate declared, holding her hands out wide. Her dramatics had caused several workers and crewmembers to glance our way. These glances lingered first on her backpack, then our backpacks, before finally landing on one of Kate¡¯s swords. That was the point that most of them decided to avert their eyes and to mind their own affairs. Because while Kate took meticulous care in cleaning her blades, she was somewhat blase regarding everything else, including the rag she kept on her belt, the very same rag she had been using to clean her blades. Considering Kate, the rag was stained and soiled with various degrees of blood and oil. The crewmembers seemed a bit less ambitious than normal though, as we had not even been accosted once. Either Kate had developed a reputation since the first time I traveled with her, or the demographics had changed. I would have expected at least someone to commit suicide via Kate by this point, especially where we were, in the slums. And what a surprise it was when we came here, especially to Gregory. I think we all thought we would begin our excursion from somewhere else, perhaps the Mercenary Quarter. But no, at least not according to Kate¡¯s directions. And it was Kate who was directing us, for we had been following Kate most of the morning. First we met on Blossom Hill, then we traveled through Southbridge, crossed the highway which divided Southbridge in two, entered the slums, and then finally traveled south, towards the Chasm. I had forgotten that this was one of the industrial sectors of the city, where the residents of the slums often worked. But now that we had reached something of a grungy plaza somewhat filled with acerbic smoke and cart traffic, we had paused. Kate was standing there, expectantly, which meant all the rest of us were standing there, waiting. This continued in an awkward fashion until the path we were blocking grew congested with handcarts. Several shouts of irritation and impatience seemed to do the trick, as Kate realized she had created an impediment to people doing their jobs. Knowing Kate, I was somewhat surprised that she cared about the traffic issues at all. However, she seemed somewhat courteous and pulled us off the path, so that we were now hugging a wall. Kate seemed to be considering her options and I spent my time observing those around us, the carts passing by, the Vigilant watching from a roof, and the off-smelling foodstuffs that were carried further into the town to sell. Actually, the food stank. The noodles and grains and breads stank of mold and something else that might have fooled most people by covering the flavor of the rot but not me. Thankfully, I was an obligate carnivore and had no need to eat this filth alongside these humans. At least so long as my supplies held. At the thought, I reached around to my own bag and patted where I had stored my jerky to confirm it remained safe after walking through the slums. We were still getting some pointed glances, and more than one streetrat seemed to be considering us as targets. The longer we remained, the more likely we would be robbed. Not that I worried for our safety, but there were likely some pickpockets out there that could lift our goods. I decided to hasten Kate along. ¡°Have we reached our destination; does this mark the end of our excursion?¡± I asked. I was hoping to prompt some form of action or action producing dialogue, rather than standing around and waiting for something to go wrong. I felt compelled to be the one to ask as Marianne had been cowed by Gregory and Gregory was enamored enough with Kate to avoid calling Kate on a glaring failing which we were currently encountering. ¡°What would you know?¡± Gregory asked. he may have sneered at me in response, quickly stepping up to ¡®defend¡¯ his interests. Marianne looked as though she wanted to speak, but she shied away from actually saying anything. I blamed Gregory for that. Kate was meanwhile rubbing at her scalp as she looked around, probably for where we were going. Because while she had more or less led directly to the spot where we currently stood, whether or not this was where we had needed to go was debatable. ¡°Then I suppose you might enlighten us as to our next steps?¡± I asked Gregory, indifferent to his childish remarks. ¡°No, not I,¡± Gregory insisted, before adding, ¡°Leading us would be Kate¡¯s duty.¡± From what I could see of Kate, her cheeks were blushing slightly. She might have also been grimacing. It was difficult to determine. I believed that she should simply ask for directions. But if we were to be forced to wait for Kate to make the appropriate decision, at the least I could needle Gregory. Afterall, it had been him harping on us about our far too casual modes of address towards Kate. ¡°I am surprised by you, Mr. Silverborn,¡± I said. ¡°You failed to refer to our leader as Sir Guardson, instead using her first name. Were you not impressing upon us the hazards of over familiarity just this morning?¡± ¡°Please,¡± Gregory said. ¡°There is a difference in station between myself and two barmaids.¡± It was at that point that Kate finally decided to move and ask for directions. She began walking towards a group of Low Knights in the square; the Knights were in the process of searching through a handcart with a suspiciously potent aroma. We began to follow Kate, but she decided it would be better if we stayed behind, and she waved at us to stay put. Likely, she was embarrassed at having to ask. To spare her this, we obliged and watched as she approached. To the surprise of no one, Upon Kate¡¯s return from her brief discussion with the Knights, she suddenly knew where we needed to head next. She continued to lead us along the Chasm, deeper into the industrial quarter, although she had led us towards the outskirts of it near where the slums met the factories. We had only traveled a few blocks this way, but in that distance two pickpockets committed suicide by Kate. One of them attempted to steal from Kate¡¯s bag. Kate promptly slit his throat, barely even glancing his way, and even more surprisingly, avoiding so much as a single drop of blood, at least on either herself or her sword. I wanted to make sure that Marianne was not too scarred by the gruesome sight as we stepped over the soon to be corpse. But when I first glanced her way, she appeared indifferent. It was only when she saw me watching that her face ran a gamut of emotion. One other thief committed suicide in such a way, although this one I was unsure of their guilt. They appeared similar to the previous pickpocket, the same age, the same level of gauntness to their frame, the same shoddy and threadbare clothing. They had approached from the side, nearest me but still several paces away. As they seemed to consider approaching me, Kate pivoted from where she led at the front, dashed over, drew and sliced, and then darted back to where she had started. It had happened quickly. She had been a blur. Before I had really understood her capricious actions, the pickpocket, a child, really, was shouting and stumbling away, holding their upper arm where a section had been carved off. There was plenty of blood, and I knew that they would need an amputation with that nature of wound. I was fairly certain I had seen bone. It had been brutal. I tried keeping myself between their mess and Marianne, but again, she seemed unbothered by the violence until she met my eyes. It was only then that she seemed to be affected. With that nastiness behind us, soon we strode through the open doors of the warehouse. But unlike normal storage spaces or factorums, this seemed to be a place where wholesalers moved bulk goods. Merchants had set up various booths where they sold by the crate and bushel. It seemed a promising place, at least if these goods were sourced from the Under, which I suspected to be the case for most of the goods consumed within Southbridge. I would normally have taken some time to see what was being moved, by whom, and for how much, but Kate pushed through the merchant loading bays and led us further back towards the Chasm side of the warehouse. As we passed several stacks of pallets and crates, we found that the back wall had been left open in an unobstructed view out over the Chasm. Through the haze of atmosphere, we could almost see the suggestion of the far side, where the Kaiva Jungles were, at least, if one traveled far enough South. In reality, the poor air quality and the significant distance from one side of the Chasm to the other meant that we likely were not actually seeing the far-side, but the impression was there. I would have also enjoyed spending some time with this view, and to perhaps better scope out where I could take advantage of my unique skill set, but Kate seemed to be in something of a rush, likely to make up for earlier time wasted. She was muttering to herself while glancing about, looking for what I presumed was a way down to where the goods were coming from. It seemed obvious to me, but Kate struggled to see it, so I pointed to where an open elevator seemed to hang out over the Chasm. When Kate followed my finger, she guffawed and I think made a joke. ¡°I saw it first,¡± Kate said, even though it had been I that had pointed it out. From there, she went towards where several men stood guard and what could only be a machine operator was crouched and working on a set of instruments and tubing, possibly a control station. As Kate had made the joke first, I thought it best to respond in kind so as to prevent appearing a pushover. ¡°I somehow find myself doubting your observational skills,¡± I said with a dry wit. Gregory scowled at my joke and might have been considering snapping a reprimand my way, but Kate beat him to it and made another quip. This time she did surprise me. I had not realized that she had noticed. ¡°But, no. Next you¡¯ll be saying I didn¡¯t see them first too?¡± Kate said, pointing casually at someone who had been tailing us since we had departed Blossom Hill. In truth, I suspected that they, the Vigilant Guesswork, had been following me. She had been doing so for the past several days, although I was unsure as to why. She was currently hanging off of the side of a building, one of the few spots outside the warehouse where we could have still been seen. She was hardly being subtle about her spying. ¡°Her?¡± I said, allowing a casual amusement to infiltrate both my body language and tone. ¡°Please tell me that this is not the first time you have noticed her. She has been following us for a while now. I doubt she is attempting to hide, so lacking in subtlety she is.¡± ¡°What?¡± Kate said. ¡°You already knew she was there?¡± I nodded, smiling. ¡°Well, I saw her first. Totally.¡± ¡°I am certain you did.¡± ¡°I did!¡± Kate said, laughing. ¡°But just to be sure¡­ when¡¯d you see them?¡± ¡°Before you,¡± I said. I rolled my eyes. ¡°Now, will you stop making a scene?¡± And she was making a scene, or I supposed, she and I both were. But in all fairness, that was not the fault of our actions or dialogue. It was just that we were not the typical sort of person that frequented this area. We were carrying bags, appeared in high quality clothes and gear, and appeared at ease. This was in contrast to every other person in the warehouse. Naturally we stood out. And of course, there were several street rats who had been watching us, despite the fact that they must have known full well what Kate would do to any that crossed her. But, I could hardly hold myself accountable for the actions of others, and neither could Kate. We continued on our way towards the elevator. It had just finished unloading, and I thought it was fairly obvious that it was a lift or elevator of some sort. This fact was perhaps not as obvious as I thought. ¡°So¡­ how are we planning on getting down to the Under again?¡± Marianne asked. Even more surprisingly, Gregory also failed to realize our destination. At least I surmised by his foolish response. ¡°I had assumed stairs would be involved,¡± Gregory answered. Kate scoffed and laughed all at once before answering. ¡°Yeah, but no, at least not for the first leg down. We¡¯re taking an elevator down most of the way. Just gotta find the thing first¡­¡± It was at this point that I realized I was surrounded by idiots, because Kate was acting as if she was unable to see the elevator which we had been headed towards, and which now remained at nearly twenty feet from where we had paused. I nudged Kate in the side and gave a subtle nod towards the platform. ¡°..I know that, Jackie,¡± Kate said, sounding a mix of exasperated and amused. ¡°I¡¯m trying to figure out who we gotta talk to.¡± Oh. I supposed that made sense. After that, Kate figured out who was in charge and she made her way over to a grease-covered man in overalls and a jacket. This man wore several tools about his belt and had a somewhat clean cap that might have been tweed. The fact he was standing near the platform along with four guards wearing ruby arm-bands implied more than anything else. As we approached, the Rubies stepped aside but kept their hands on their truncheons as an implied threat, whereas the operator-mechanic frowned and spat a wad of chew to the side. ¡°Gross,¡± Gregory said. I found it difficult to disagree with the sentiment. However, despite the spitting, Kate approached unbothered. ¡°You run this elevator?¡± Kate asked him. The operator frowned and put a hand on a wrench. ¡°Sure kid, could say that. But whaddya want?¡± Before Kate could commence any sort of negotiation at all, Gregory dressed the operator down. ¡°Is that how you address anyone of Title?¡± Gregory interjected. The operator gave a confused grunt, while Kate glanced away, seemingly embarrassed. ¡°That is Sir Gaurdson, fool.¡± Gregory sneered. ¡°You are unworthy of addressing her as any other.¡± ¡°Eh¡­¡± the operator shuffled awkwardly and glanced towards one of the bigger Rubies standing guard. The Ruby shrugged, likely unsure of the situation as well. ¡°No?¡± Gregory said. ¡°Gregory!¡± Kate hissed, blushing. It was surprising that she was feeling anything regarding the attention, considering everything else I had seen from her. Gregory had built up momentum though and failed to notice the discomfort he was causing Kate. ¡°Are you so daft to have never heard of the Knights?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± the operator answered, uncertain. ¡°I mean sure, who hasn¡¯t¡­ don¡¯t see why it matters none.¡± ¡°So you are not completely stupid then. What of the High Knights?¡± Kate groaned and buried her eyes with her arm. Her antics actually went to defuse the tension some as at least one of the Rubies smirked her way. ¡°Look kid,¡± the operator said. ¡°You hear for something, or just ta harass us?¡± ¡°Amazing. Absolutely astounding.¡± Gregory¡¯s tone carried heaps of sarcasm. ¡°Just what¨C¡± Apparently, Kate could tolerate no further, as she elbowed Gregory in the side, hard enough to drive the air from his lungs. She then shoved him behind her so that she was between Gregory and the operator. From there, Kate addressed the operator once more. ¡°But, yeah... you can take us down?¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± the operator said. ¡°You paying, right?¡± he then eyed Kate and the rest of us and seemed to weigh his options. ¡°But none o¡¯ you¡¯re exactly the usual, y¡¯know?¡± Kate rolled her eyes. ¡°So you¡¯re saying you can¡¯t take us, then?¡± ¡°Well, uh¡­¡± the operator waffled. Before Greogry could issue threats or Kate could take some other drastic action which would be non-conducive to business, I weighed in. ¡°Pardon, Sir Guardson,¡± I said, sparing the operator a meaningful glance, ¡°But I believe he is merely beginning negotiations.¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± Kate asked. If the operator felt gratitude, none of it showed. Instead he just shrugged and nodded. ¡°Sure. Yeah, I can take ya to Halftown. Hundred Cee each.¡± ¡°For going down?!¡± Kate said somewhat suspiciously. ¡°I would imagine that down is the cheaper of the options,¡± Gregory said. ¡°Sure, sure. You¡¯re welcome ta find ¡®em¡­¡± ¡°And would this Halftown be connected to the Under?¡± I asked, keeping the conversation focused on what we want, versus making needless enemies as Gregory would have done. However, at my question, one of the guards chuckled. I narrowed my eyes and wondered if this was how Kate felt, as my false-arm twitched and I had a sudden compulsion to render violence upon the man. I resisted the temptation, but the fact that I felt it at all concerned me. ¡°Sure, it¡¯s connected,¡± the operator answered, unknowingly possibly saving his guard¡¯s life. ¡°But ya want lower, might try the Topaz. They get that going yet?¡± he asked the largest of the Rubies. The Ruby shook his head. ¡°Don¡¯t recognize that crew,¡± Kate said. ¡°Topaz, they new?¡± ¡°Sure. They replaced the Garnets after¡­ well¡­¡± ¡°Recognize her now?¡± Gregory asked smugly. ¡°Nah¡­ wait¡­¡± the operator worked his jaw as his eyes widened in something close to caution. ¡°Well, hm. This line only goes to Halftown, but it¡¯s all connected, like I said. Really, not taking cargo down for passengers means hundred Cee each¡¯s a steal of a deal. Couldn¡¯t go no cheaper than that. Y¡¯know?¡± ¡°What, no discount?¡± Kate asked with something of a smug humor. ¡°You saw what I did to the Garnets, right? Sure you can risk it?¡± Sometimes I found it hard to forget that Kate was a child. A blood thirsty, immature, teenager. ¡°His price should be affordable,¡± I said, implicitly equating protesting the price and bartering to poverty. ¡°Is that not right, Sir Kate? Bartering seems uncouth at this point.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Kate said slowly, before adding a more firm agreement. ¡°Not like it¡¯s more than pocket change. Just wanted to make sure nobody thought we were easy marks.¡± ¡°I doubt anyone would ever come to that conclusion,¡± I said dryly. Minutes later, and the operator gestured us to follow him onto the rusted platform that overlooked the chasm. Its only point of connection was the tracks running down the side of the cliff, and the lift vibrated with each step that anyone took. Were it not for my Talents, I would have had second thoughts regarding using the lift. It was a small mercy that it had a railing separating us from a plummet.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. The operator stepped on after us and went to a control panel that stood at waist height about halfway in on the platform. The Rubies filed in after him. ¡°Everyone pissed and emptied?¡± the operator asked crudely. ¡°W-what?¡± Marianne asked, surprised by the blunt question and possibly confused at the context. ¡°Eh, whatever,¡± the operator replied with a careless shrug before pulling a lever. The elevator shuddered as large latches along the metal wheels and tracks pulled out. ¡°Just takes a while to get down there¡¯s all.¡± The wheels began creaking and clanking as they rolled down the tracks. They never slipped, but the mechanism controlling them seemed far too jury-rigged for my liking. And yet, the rate of descent was controlled, if at a walking pace. A minute later and we had finally dropped far enough that we were looking up at the platforms jutting out over the Chasm. We could still see the Tower and of course the bridge itself, but it was from the underside which revealed a complexity to the bridge that I had not realized existed. I was unsure what the pipes or cables accomplished, but they must have performed some function. Another minute passed, and Gregory grew impatient. I think that we all did. ¡°Can this device not travel any faster?¡± he complained. ¡°Who fabricated this a shoddy thing?¡± The operator shrugged, not stepping away from his controls. He said, ¡°If ya want, could always take the fast way down.¡± One of the guards laughed, and I saw Kate grinning. It was likely a well used joke. But Gregory had been correct, the descent was slow. Not that I would admit as such. Gregory was insufferable enough as it was. A minute later in our descent, we passed through the roof of what was almost a warehouse, one with a hole through both the floor and roof for the elevator to pass through. During the time we spent within, I saw several dusty pallets and several barrels filled with grains. There were several workers rolling in additional barrels. The smell caused my eyes to water. ¡°What is this place?¡± I asked in a strained voice. ¡°Old mining depot, put to growing food,¡± a Ruby said. ¡°Produce?¡± Marianne asked. ¡°Why down here?¡± I was glad that she was finally breaking out of her cowed silence. ¡°Heh, gotta grow it somewhere.¡± ¡°But¡­ how?¡± It seemed a fair question, but it went unanswered. The stench was growing progressively worse. It stank of the worst sort of sewage. No matter how I covered my nose, I could not escape the wretched aroma. Marianne was holding her nose, and Kate retreated to the Chasm side of the lift and started leaning over the edge as though trying to get some fresh air. Gregory turned green. Of course, the operator and Rubies were used to this stench, as they started laughing at our reactions. I doubted that any of us were even present enough to take offense at their reactions. No, we were too busy suffering through a physical assault of stench. ¡°Ugh¨Cwhat¨C¡± Gregory sputtered. ¡°-is this¡­ this¡­ ugh!¡± he coughed. ¡°What else ya think they using to grow crops?¡± the operator said, stifling a laugh without success. ¡°Can¡¯t do much with just stone. Need dirt!¡± While they crudely guffawed over their working conditions, I made a tactical retreat to where Kate was, leaning over the far side of the elevator. It did not seem to help. The descent continued for another hour. We passed intermittent platforms, some in use, others not, but each one leading to a recessed staging area in the side of the cliff with multiple branching tunnels. The descent followed a crooked path. Another oddity was that there were hardly any ropes or pulleys. There were a few cables that connected to the tracks above us, or rather a wheeled mechanism that had several attached parts that seemed to be doing something. Another oddity, the lower we went, the slower the descent seemed to be. We passed another platform with ramshackle buildings and dirty malformed roustabouts. Maybe one of them was doing anything productive, but the majority of them were lounging or playing cards or dice. I was glad when they passed out of sight. The next platform down, Kate caught sight of something that interested her. There were several climbers departing, following up what could have been a goat trail. Kate seemed particularly focused on their bulging packs. ¡°Why not take a lift, rather than risk climbing?¡± I asked. ¡°Not with a crew,¡± the operator said. ¡°Plus¡­ well, I shouldn say.¡± ¡°Those packs look kinda heavy,¡± Marianne added. ¡°Seems dangerous?¡± ¡°Ugh. Who even cares about them?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°No point in talking about this.¡± ¡°Could be carrying anything,¡± the operator said, not able to resist the chance to gossip. It was Kate that put things together first. ¡°Bet it¡¯s snow,¡± Kate spat. ¡°Smugglers.¡± ¡°How is this the best way into the city?¡± I asked. I also wondered about where they had received their alleged product. It seemed that their operation was poorly conceived, but then again, there had been plenty of asinine smuggling attempts in general over the years. People often failed to optimize for intelligence. Kate had a theory though which she shared: ¡°They¡¯ll probably cut back in through the Under once they¡¯re further up.¡± Kate was growing increasingly irate and I was unsure as to why. ¡°What profit is there in smuggling?¡± I asked. From what I had seen, the government seemed fairly lackadaisical in regards to substance abuse. I had thought that the artificial scarcity drove the price arbitrarily high which in turn drove smuggling, but if there was no artificial scarcity generated by governance, then why would there be smuggling? I found I was lacking too much information regarding the laws and policies of the state. I would need to fix that in the future, especially if I intended to continue breaking them. ¡°Why else?¡± Kate scoffed. ¡°It¡¯s addictive and expensive.¡± ¡°And it¡¯s too hard to tax, yeah?¡± the operator said. Kate furrowed her brows at that. ¡°Still though,¡± Kate said, fondling the hilt of her short sword while giving the possible-smugglers a disturbing look. ¡°I¡¯m going to stop them.¡± We continued descending, albeit slowly. Kate¡¯s frown deepened and her veins bulged slightly. She was not getting what she wanted, although she had hardly made a clear demand in the first place. She quickly rectified that. ¡°Stop the lift,¡± she ordered. The possible-smugglers were still in sight, but barely. And while it was likely that Kate could ascend the tracks by climbing them, at least until reaching the path the smugglers were taking, Kate would likely rather not be forced to climb at all. But when the operator made no motion to apply the brakes or slow the platform down at all, let alone reverse course, Kate scowled and turned full towards the operator. ¡°Hey! I said¨C¡± ¡°-We ain¡¯t stopping till Halftown,¡± the operator denied Kate firmly. Kate growled, and Gregory seized his chance to score points with Kate. ¡°Fool,¡± Gregory said. ¡°That was a command, not a request.¡± At Gregory¡¯s words, a guard stepped between him and the control box. Kate began fondling her sword hilt and she started to look a bit disturbed. Fortunately, before anyone could do anything rash, the operator explained. ¡°It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t wanna. It¡¯s the way the gears work though. We¡¯d lose all the head we¡¯ve built if we did¡­¡± Gregory was still glaring at the operator, but it seemed that Kate was hesitant to punish the operator, moreso when the operator had a reason for the denial. Kate did perform several breathing exercises to calm herself. By the time she finished, the smugglers were likely well and truly gone. ¡°Whatever,¡± Kate griped. ¡°Didn¡¯t wanna chase ¡®em down anyways.¡± From there, we continued to descend, although our pace only ever slowed. At least now I knew why the elevator was slowing. I also guessed as to how the elevators could even be considered affordable in their operation. The descent was somehow generating a charge for when the elevator eventually went back up. Not that the charge could have covered even half of the distance, what with friction. But it likely cut back on expenses quite a bit, and seemed a little too advanced for a mere lift. As we went down, ever slower and slower, the floors and exhausted mines became somewhat infrequent. But then, we passed a platform with three figures standing on it, waiting. They were focused upon us as we descended, although we had yet to reach the level of their floor yet. Concerningly, neither the Rubies nor operator seemed to be expecting whoever these figures were. Of course, Kate¡¯s reaction differed drastically to everyone else¡¯s. ¡°Finally,¡± Kate said with an exhale. ¡°Get something to do.¡± She rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck. Gregory, having not yet seen the waiting figures, commented, ¡°Kate, why did that sound excited? The only time that you have expressed any interest was when¨C¡± Gregory turned around and finally saw what everyone else had already noticed. ¡°-oh. They appear hostile.¡± ¡°Yeah, no shit,¡± Kate said with a laugh. ¡°You know, I would relax,¡± Gregory said, beginning to rifle through his bag, looking for something. ¡°But I would rather have these guards defend us than risk any of us, even the barmaids.¡± But while the Rubies had truncheons out and ready, they were keeping near the operator¡¯s box, which was far enough from the edge of the lift that they were actually behind Kate and Gregory, at least when compared to where the figures would be coming from. We finally reached the same height as the figures. ¡°I¡¯m glad they¡¯re letting me handle it,¡± Kate said. She unsheathed her short sword and pushed her bag away from her, closer to the operators. ¡°This¡¯ll be fun.¡± Guessing how this might resolve itself, I pulled Marianne further away from Kate to give the swordswoman more space. I squeezed past the operator and Rubies as well, until everyone else stood between us and the three figures. While this meant that I might not have had the best view of the upcoming fight, I had never much enjoyed bloodsports anyways, and this was likely the safest place Marianne or I could be. It was as I was positioning Marianne and myself that the three figures stepped onto the elevator with the rest of us. I thought that they were either confident, foolish, or desperate. There was no way in which they were escaping this with their lives. At least not if they failed to retreat while the floor¡¯s platform was still in range. With the rate of our descent, they likely could still escape for the next thirty seconds. But it would have been increasingly difficult for them to do so, especially if Kate decided to stop them. For some reason though, Kate seemed content to wait and watch. This delay gave me ample time to get a better read on the combatants. Their leader was partially covered in scales with one bulging eye and the other seemingly normal except for its yellow sclera. They were armed with a long knife which seemed decent enough for a back-alley brawl but certainly not against a sword. Likely their deviations granted some advantage, but I was unsure of how much. One of them, possibly male, had uneven shoulders, one drooping heavily as compared to the other. My false arm twitched when I focused on them, and I thought it might have been unrelated, but was unsure of what exactly. This one was armed with a small crossbow, already cranked and ready to fire. The last one suffered a hunchback and had a disfigured face, with a significant underbite. They were armed with a spiked club, and they were large enough that they likely could be considered a reasonably successful brute. If these three had accosted any other party, they might have had a reasonable chance at a pyrrhic victory. Their lives must have been considered cheap. Surprisingly, it was Gregory that broke the silence as he finished priming an arc-bow in his shaky hands. ¡°Deviant freaks,¡± he said. ¡°Shut it, boy.¡± The lizard person said in a gravelly voice that I belatedly realized was female, making her a lizard woman of some kind. Unfortunate. ¡°Should learn to keep your mouth shut. Up top wants you in particular dead.¡± His face paled a bit and he stepped further back, putting Kate between himself and the assailants. I decided that I should be seen as performing something during this posturing, lest Kate think less of me. So I turned towards the nearest Ruby to where myself and Marianne had retreated to. ¡°Not that I would presume to spoil Sir Guardson¡¯s fun,¡± I said, catching the guard¡¯s eye. ¡°But are you truly not tasked with protecting the lift?¡± The guard shrugged, but it was the operator that spoke up. ¡°So long as they don¡¯t steal nothin¡¯ we don¡¯t got a quarrel with them. Bad business to starting feuds an¡¯ all that. Not sure why they came, honest. No cargo this trip to steal.¡± ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± the lizard woman said. ¡°We came for the boy.¡± ¡°That¡¯s dumb, you¡¯re dumb.¡± Kate said. ¡°Shoulda come for me, not him.¡± I was unsure as to why Kate was delaying the fight. I wondered if it was because the tunnel was still within reach of the slow moving lift. She could have been worried about reinforcements, but I thought it more likely that she just wanted to keep them from running away after the fight started. ¡°Second thought, you too,¡± the lizard said. The lizard then clicked her tongue and the three of them started to move. Gregory fired a shot off but his aim missed by a substantial amount, instead blasting a hole in the rock near one of the tracks. ¡°Watch it!¡± the operator shouted, showing more emotion than I had seen from him yet. During the space between Gregory shooting and the operator shouting, Kate moved in a blur, striking first the crossbowman, slicing across his throat and disarming him with her free arm, before she struck the hunchback, bodily sending him over the side of the elevator and plummeting with a long-lasting scream. Gregory reloaded his arc-bow with a fresh Charger, failing to realize that the fight was already over. His hands were still shaky when he brought his arc-bow back up, aiming towards the lizard that was on the opposite side of Kate. The boy lacked any sort of sense in regards to firearms, or I guess artificed guns, as they seemed to use here. I could not allow him to risk injuring Kate, or even more importantly, the elevator¡¯s mechanisms or tracks. ¡°Gregory,¡± I said quickly to catch his attention. ¡°Ugh¨Cwhat?!¡± ¡°Do not risk Kate with your aim.¡± ¡°What do you know?¡± he snapped. His finger was still on the trigger even if his ally was down-range from him and even if he had his head turned to reprimand me and to protest. ¡°She has this handled.¡± ¡°But-¡± Gregory started, but now was cut off by Kate. ¡°-Yep,¡± Kate said in a nonchalant tone. ¡°Better not shoot me by mistake, Georgey-boy. I won¡¯t like it, and then you really won¡¯t like it.¡± As she finished saying that, she positioned herself back between the lizard girl and the rest of us, sword wet. The lizard girl had a dagger with a keen edge, but she might as well have been unarmed, at least compared to Kate. ¡°You!¡± the lizard girl sputtered. She seemed to have just realized that one of her colleagues was missing and that the other was attempting to hold the flaps of skin together without much success, though notable of their hands looked a bit strange and familiar and I felt a pinch from my false-arm, but I felt uncomfortable watching a person bleed out helplessly, so I was grateful when Kate offered a cheeky distraction. ¡°Me,¡± Kate responded. I could hear the smug smile in her voice, even if I could only see her back. But the fact that she sounded so relaxed left me with concerns. The fact that the lizard-girl still stood untouched left me with more concerns. The fact that I knew Kate though, that left me the most concerned. I glanced towards Marianne who was staring at the ongoing conflict with expressionless eyes. She must have felt my attention on her, as she shook herself out of whatever reverie she had been in and looked my way. When our eyes met, I slowly shook my head. ¡°Marianne, dear? Avert your eyes, please.¡± My voice came bereft of merriment, for while Kate was undoubtedly a poor influence, she had not had such a big influence as to cause me to take this encounter any sort of humor. Before Marianne had a chance to voice the question written upon her face, Kate guffawed loudly. I made no attempt to feign a laugh. I had made no joke. As Kate¡¯s back was turned towards me, I doubt she saw my own unamused expression. Unfortunately, the situation only devolved from there as Kate dragged the encounter out. I think that the assailant also realized the direness of the situation, for while the lizard was armed with a dagger, she held it without confidence. She then made a mistake by glancing over her shoulder, perhaps to see if there was some recourse of escape. During this second, Kate flashed forward with her blade and sliced down from eyebrow to cheek, costing the lizard an eye. The lizard let loose a pained scream. Kate laughed. Gregory blanched and he finally let his arc-bow droop until it was facing the ground. He seemed to have realized what was coming, as he made an almost silent, ¡°Oh.¡± The lizard had yet to drop her dagger, and while she clutched her face with one hand, she slashed with the other. Her form was almost as poor as her aim. Kate would have been safe from harm even had she remained idle. But of course, Kate did not. Kate chopped upwards, almost lazily, and struck the lizard¡¯s hand, removing a finger, slicing another knuckle, and causing the lizard to cry out once more as the dagger clattered to the floor. ¡°M-mercy!¡± the lizard girl begged. Kate hummed in thought, before giving a plain, ¡°... no.¡± The grin made it all the worse. Before the lizard could further beg, Kate made another skillful pass with her blade, this time striking her other eye and cheek, leaving the poor assailant blind. The girl stumbled backwards and teetered at the edge of the lift nearest the cliff face of the Chasm. She was clutching her face with both hands and sobbed. Kate scoffed, sounding more disgusted than anything else, and she made a pass with her blade, this time at the lizard¡¯s midsection. The cut was deep enough to disembowel, but before anything could fall loose, the lizard fell backwards and struck the cliff. Now, the lift was moving slowly, but it was still moving. There was also a gap between the floor of the lift and the cliff itself. I doubted very much that Kate had planned for this, at least I hoped not. She darted forward once more, this time severing the lizard girl¡¯s quadriceps, causing her to buckle. The lizard fell back, lost her balance against the cliff and slipped downwards until her rear end was jammed between the lift and the cliff, with her ankles and shoulders above the gap. At this point, Kate had been frozen by curiosity, and I think the rest of us were watching on as well. The lizard seemed to be attempting to cry out, but seemed to lack the ability to speak. Despite her silence, her face was able to fully communicate her panic and pain. As the lift descended slowly, the woman was pushed upwards by the cliff. But at the same time, the irregular gap between the stone and the lift narrowed, further trapping, then squeezing. There was a crunch as some bone broke, but I was unsure as to which. ¡°What is even happening?¡± Kate asked with a confused interest. She no longer held her sword at the ready; the tip was facing down and blood was dripping to the elevator floor. ¡°No, you know what, this is awesome!¡± The Rubies made no attempt to intervene, though their faces were ashen. The operator was looking away. Marianne seemed far too interested, in a macabre sort of way. I supposed I could not overly blame the younger girl for that, as I was also watching. Soon, the gap between the lift and the cliff stopped narrowing and began widening. The lizard girl slipped further down, so that now only her head was visible. She was still alive, judging by her thrashing at the lift for purchase to try and free herself while at the same time avoid plummeting to her death. Were I her, I would have preferred the plummet, as ten seconds later the gap between narrowing once more. This time, there were quite a few crunches as the lizard was carried upwards once more, at least relative to the descending lift. This¡­ this continued for some time. At any point, anyone could have intervened, but no one did. At some point, the lizard died, or at least passed out. Minutes later, the gap finally widened enough for the lizard to completely slip through and plunge downwards, striking the cliff twice on her way down. She left a notable smear. Another minute passed in silence, before Kate began chuckling and shaking her head. ¡°Whelp! That was something,¡± she said. She looked down at the only assailant remaining on the lift, though they had long since bled out. ¡°Eugh,¡± she said. ¡°Could have fought longer. Whimp.¡± She used the toe of her boot to start nudging the deviant over. It was during this point that I got a better look at the deviation. They were the assailant that had the uneven shoulders, and their heavier side had a very familiar looking arm, at least from what I could see of the exposed wrist and hand. It was gelatinous and clear, with several tendrils that seemed to writhe, even in death. Before I could really process this observation, Kate finished nudging them off over the side, letting gravity take care of the rest. The Chasm continued to darken as we descended, the wheels clacking as they rolled down their tracks. During this, conversation was nonexistent. After what we had all witnessed, I doubted anyone knew exactly what to say, and Kate seemed rather indifferent, at least judging by her self-pleased, satisfied, boyish smirk. And so, we continued descending in silence while I considered what I had seen. Belobog had informed me of the chance that Junior Alchemist Charson was operating in the Under. I was to be on the lookout for deviations that matched my own. Even though my deviation was less a deviation and more a symbiotic, parasitic, gift from Emboru to replace the left arm which was severed by none-other than Kate herself¡­ It came with a significant amount of baggage that I would rather not consider, but was forced to as the tendrils within my torso and following along my spine tightened and twitched, as though expressing their demands that I pursue this issue. The issue was that my false-arm seemed to have realized the opportunity to locate Emboru¡¯s sibling. Perhaps by recognizing a chemical trail from the deviation, or perhaps by somehow infesting my very mind, regardless, I would be unable to ignore this opportunity. But ignore it I thought best, as how could I express interest in Charson without raising suspicions? Afterall, what reason would I have? Already my Guise was breaking down, my identity as a human was growing flimsier, and it would not be long before suspicions arose, especially not if I expressed interest in chasing down a party that had wronged me. Another spasm from my symbiote forced my issue. I gasped as its tendrils coiled about my lungs, reminding me that yes, my continued survival depended on appeasing this¡­ thing. ¡°You alright, Jackie?¡± Marianne asked in a low voice. She had been doing her best to avoid looking at anyone at all, but my brief and pained exhalation had drawn her from her shell. ¡°Something wrong?¡± Kate asked, her boyish smirk disappearing beneath a concerned frown as she started towards me while thinking aloud. ¡°I know they didn¡¯t hurt you¡­ did they have somebody shooting from above? But no, I woulda noticed that. You get some guts splattered your way?¡± The Rubies all found the cliff¡¯s irregularities incredibly fascinating as Kate went past them. None of them even dared to look her way. The operator still seemed green about his neck and face, although the grease-stains helped to obscure this. All of this was tangential though, as I needed to both explain myself and appease my false-arm in a manner that avoided raising suspicions. I may have lacked a clear strategy, but I had to speak now, especially as the tendrils continued tightening about my bones in a most uncomfortable fashion. ¡°It was¡­ I just¡­¡± I tried several times as Kate finally reached me. Her eyes were searching my own, while Marianne was hugging herself and staring down at my feet. Gregory was sneering, but I cared little about him, except for the potential harm he could cause. After some verbal stumbling, I finally figured out what to say. ¡°I am unharmed, of course, Sir Kate. But¡­ I must wonder why they tried attacking us, who sent them, and where they were sent from.¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡­ huh.¡± Kate seemed to be thinking deeply. ¡°But.. why ask? I know you aren¡¯t afraid of them coming after us¡­ or maybe you are? But they did seem to know something about me so it might be worth looking into. Huh. Hey, yeah!¡± She turned to the operator. ¡°I wanna have some fun on my way back. Where did they come from, you know?¡± While Kate likely had not intended any of this as a threat, while she spoke she had been wiping her hands free of her weapon oil with the very same bloodstained rag which hung from her belt. The operator gulped, and his guards stared even more intently at the cliffside. One of them was even grimacing while slowly shuffling away. Kate noticed that and she scoffed in good humor. Perhaps the scoff is what finally gave the operator the courage to speak. ¡°Ah¨Cuh¡­ La-lady knight, that w-was, I m-mean, they jumped on a-at level f-fourteen.¡± ¡°We should consider a detour there when we are finished with our excursion,¡± I said. ¡°As if those freaks would remain,¡± Gregory scoffed. ¡°It would be a waste of our time.¡± ¡°Perhaps,¡± I said. ¡°Or perhaps we could find a trail, or some other local that recognizes them.¡± ¡°Sure sure,¡± Kate said, and then, to the discomfort of the operator and his guards, Kate added, ¡°worst case we always just start tearing shit up till somebody talks¡­ or I get bored,¡± she finished with a shrug. ¡°R-right,¡± Gregory said, before coughing and glancing away from Kate. We continued descending. The irregularities of the Chasm wall meant that there were plenty of overhanging rock between us and Southbridge, granting enough shade to cause a noticeable dim and gloomy atmosphere, made only stranger by the way sounds echoed and clicking-clacking of the iron wheels following the track. But soon, the ambient noise changed, starting slowly, and then growing in volume. It was the sound of industry, a susurration of people not dissimilar from Southbridge itself. Along with this, I began to catch the stink of waste, pollutants, and the disgusting curry preferred by the locals. ¡°And, there she is,¡± the operator said. ¡°Halftown. The end of the line.¡± ¡°Ugh. Finally,¡± Gregory said. Likely unnoticed by everyone else, I caught one of the Rubies nodding in agreement. If they were eager to be rid of us. I could hardly blame the sentiment. I would want to be rid of us as well. I wondered if it would affect our ability to use their services again. Absorption 2.6.4 Absorption 2.6.4 ¡°They seem less than friendly,¡± Marianne said under her breath. ¡°Ignore them,¡± Gregory said with a sneer towards the nearest group of Halftown residents. ¡°Ugh. There are beggars in the slums better put together than these¡­ things.¡± We had left the elevator and exited past the ore crates and empty barrels that were waiting to be loaded and then shipped topside. It was as we disembarked that we first caught wind of the overt hostility from the locals. Either the workers or the homeless, but all eyed us with a wary hate that had been missing in Southbridge, at least not to such an extent. ¡°It does cause one to wonder,¡± I said. ¡°What cause is there for animosity? Sir Guardson, have you by chance murdered their mothers?¡± ¡°Ha!¡± Kate answered. ¡°Maybe. Who cares, right? Not like any of them could fight me.¡± ¡°That is not my point exactly, but near enough,¡± Gregory said. ¡°None of these locals have any bearing on us, other than their presence fouling the air. Although, without the benefit of mine or Kate¡¯s station, I could understand the concern that a pair of barmaids have.¡± I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. ¡°Very well then, Gregory,¡± I said. ¡°As these barmaids know no better, perhaps you could explain to us our next steps?¡± Kate was only bothering to pay attention with half an ear, still scanning the surrounding buildings for a source of martial entertainment. However, she did chime in with, ¡°Yeah Greggy-boy. It¡¯s your project we¡¯re down here for¡­¡± Gregory went from providing a knee-jerk retort to taking a calming breath. ¡°Indeed,¡± he said. ¡°Our first task¨C¡± he licked his lips and stalled for a moment before continuing ¡°-is to gain our bearings.¡± He was watching Kate as he said this, as though seeking approval. When Kate proffered none, Gregory nodded. ¡°Yes. That is exactly what we will do. We need to locate significant supplies of living metals and gems for my craft.¡± ¡°Uhm. Can¡¯t you just buy that stuff?¡± Marianne asked. Kate chuckled at the question, while Gregory shut his eyes and flared his nostrils. ¡°If only I could.¡± ¡°Nah, he probably tried already,¡± Kate said with a shrug. ¡°Not that it matters much, since we can just find some down here, easy.¡± ¡°But¡­ why couldn¡¯t he have?¡± Marianne asked, still lacking confidence but brave enough to still put forward a question that obviously chipped at Gregory in a way sure to incite some aggression. I wondered where this sudden confidence stemmed from. Marianne had been giving off several mixed signals since this excursion had started. ¡°And what would you know?!¡± Gregory snapped. ¡°Do¡­¡± Marianne paused, tilting her head in a show of deliberate confusion, ¡°Do people normally ask questions when they already know?¡± Kate snorted and cut in before Gregory could throw another insult. ¡°The Silverborns have trouble enough keeping their little business going¨C¡± Kate said, casually insulting her friend¡¯s family. ¡°Untrue!¡± Gregory protested immediately. ¡°The Silverborns run a small business, not a ¡®little¡¯ one, and we are moderately successful, given our circumstances.¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± Kate asked. ¡°Compared to what? What was it called again? Your competitors that got stores in all the districts?¡± I thought I knew what Kate was referring to. There was a brand of artificed devices that seemed fairly consistent throughout Southbridge. In fact, it had been one of their shops that I had robbed some time back. Gregory scoffed and turned away, cheeks reddening. He mumbled, ¡°It is unfair to compare my family with the Union. You know this.¡± ¡°Ha. Yeah, I do.¡± Kate sounded unbothered. ¡°But seriously, we gonna just chat or we gonna get you those mats?¡± ¡°And we shall,¡± Gregory stressed. ¡°As soon as I¨Cwe¨Cgather our bearings.¡± Kate rolled her eyes and pointed at one of the grease-covered waif of a man who had been leaning against a slapdash shack. ¡°You!¡± Kate called. The man started and glanced around. None of the other locals met his eyes, throwing him to the proverbial wolves. ¡°Yeah! You, get over here! My boy¡¯s got some questions for you.¡± ¡°What?¡± he grunted, not moving from his spot. Kate nudged Gregory in an encouraging fashion. Gregory winced and after a moment¡¯s pause, approached the man, although he kept several yards between them. ¡°Yes, you,¡± Gregory started. He was far enough away, our surroundings were noisy enough, and his back was facing towards us, such that I ought to have struggled to hear the conversation. However, all of my senses had been sharpened and honed. The downside was the itch I felt deep under my skin. The longer I dwelled on the sensation, the worse it grew. So rather than suffer, I focused on my senses, on the noise, on the scents, on any and all things external. Gregory continued, ¡°nor am I overjoyed to be speaking to you. The sooner you answer, the sooner we can be about our separate ways.¡± ¡°Nah,¡± the grungy man said, before spitting a wad of phlegm to the side. ¡°Stay ¡®r go. Don¡¯t care.¡± ¡°W-what?¡± Gregory stammered, taken aback, as though the idea that any would choose to decline him was tantamount to insanity. ¡°Just one simple question, and we will be on our way.¡± ¡°No.¡± The man appeared uncooperative and rather annoyed by our very presence. ¡°Well, why not?!¡± Gregory asked, offended that the man refused to bend over backwards to service his betters. ¡°Cuz. I don¡¯t like ya.¡± Kate was narrowing her eyes in the meanwhile, partly drawing her bastard sword while staring down the man. It seemed apparent that Kate was unappreciative of the man¡¯s tone either. And given the sort of person Kate was, there was a very real chance for this situation to resolve bloodily. ¡°I don¡¯t like the looks of this,¡± Marianne said under her breath. ¡°Are you able to hear what they¡¯re saying?¡± I asked. ¡°No¡­ but it seems Gregory is being rebuffed¡­ and Kate¨C¡± Marianne looked at Kate from the side of her eyes ¡°-might be¨C¡± ¡°Might be what?¡± Kate cut in. Marianne coughed and looked away and at the ground. ¡°Will you intervene?¡± I asked Kate, drawing the attention away from Marianne. ¡°Maybe. Thinking about it,¡± Kate said, her sword still partially unsheathed. How the man had failed to notice the implicit threat, I was unsure. All the while, Gregory continued. ¡°Look,¡± Gregory continued, speaking a little louder than before. ¡°I just want to know the direction to the Under, the fastest way, that is all.¡± ¡°What do some uppity kids want with that?¡± the man asked. He spoke with a slur, as though there were gravel in his mouth, but otherwise seemed as eloquent if not more than the residents of the slums above. Gregory gave a pained expression. ¡°Resources. Living metals and gems.¡± ¡°So?¡± the man said. ¡°Buy ¡®em.¡± Gregory groaned. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Kate said, finally coming to a decision as she unsheathed her blade. She then spoke loudly enough that the man had to have heard her. ¡°I¡¯m gonna stab someone.¡± She began marching towards the man. Between her long pace, her sword, her manic smile, and the quality of her garments, it must have been quite apparent that she was some sort of spoiled madwoman, the last sort of person any rational person would wish to face, and the man seemed at least somewhat rational. This meant that when the man heard Kate state her desire, when he turned to see her coming towards him, that his eyes widened appropriately and he flinched backwards. Of course, Gregory knew the cause of this change in attitude was Kate, however, the change still granted Gregory an infusion of bravery. Gregory turned back towards the man with a smirk. ¡°Have you changed your mind, perchance?¡± Gregory asked in a smug tone. ¡°Yeah, yeah, just have your friend put the sword away, yeah? You wanna mine ore?¡± the man suddenly sounded incredibly deferential, backing away and bowing, if sloppily. During this time, I considered that the man might have had friends in the works around us. This led me to nudging Marianne in the side. ¡°It would behoove us to remain wary of additional threats,¡± I said. Marianne looked around at some of the onlookers, others acting the roustabout or moving goods to and fro. Several of these locals shared hostile glares, although none seemed eager to risk themselves by attacking us, at least not directly. From their perspective, I could see that they would dislike outsiders lording over everyone else scrawling about in the filth. I could also see that they were not so eager to depart their mortal coils as to start a fight, at least not to be the first to do so. ¡°Good point,¡± Marianne said, making a point of visibly keeping watch. ¡°This guy hassling you, Georgy?¡± Kate asked, finally reaching the pair. ¡°That remains to be seen,¡± Gregory offered. ¡°I was just waiting for him to give an answer.¡± ¡°And I was gonna give ya one,¡± the man said, slurring a bit more than before. ¡°If you want the best veins, you¡¯re gonna want the tunnel marked with a seven.¡± ¡°The number?¡± Kate asked. ¡°Seven marks. Gotta count ¡®em.¡± ¡°Idiots,¡± Gregory said, shaking his head. ¡°Very well. I would say it was a pleasure, but¨C¡± ¡°-wait, Gregory,¡± Kate said. ¡°Let me do it.¡± ¡°Hm?¡± ¡°Just, say it again.¡± Gregory rolled his eyes but gave a small and indulgent smile. ¡°Very well,¡± Gregory said, enunciating clearly and slowly. ¡°I would say that this was a pleasure¨C¡± ¡°-but fuck you!¡± Kate finished with a crow, before guffawing. The man frowned and shuffeled away from Kate who still had her bastard sword out and ready to go. ¡°Children,¡± Gregory said, amused but turning back to Kate, and also to us. ¡°But, we have our directions. After me,¡± he called to the rest of us. Kate gave the man a glare, flinched at him, causing him to stumble and fall away, before she gave a mean laugh and followed after Gregory. Marianne mouthed the word, ¡°sorry,¡± to the man, before heading after Kate and Gregory, with me pulling up the rear. Halftown was not a large establishment, more of a mining colony than anything else. It had been built up of slag, waste wood, and irregular chunks of masonry. Roofing seemed to be optional, merely a suggestion in some instances. That was because of where the town was built, upon a recessed ledge, with the cliff-face forming an overhang above our heads. Some parts of the ledge might have been natural, but the melted wax look and unnatural smoothness proved that most of it had been formed intentionally. Of course, I wondered what had prompted the town to form to begin with. As we walked I asked just that. ¡°Was there an incentive to construct this town?¡± I asked. Marianne shrugged, Gregory ignored me, and Kate blew a raspberry. ¡°Yeah? Look around at these guys,¡± Kate said, nodding at three locals at work braiding a cable. Two of them showed visible signs of mutation. ¡°Can¡¯t live up top.¡± My own false-arm twitched. I took her meaning. ¡°Then, the majority that live here are deviants?¡± ¡°Eh¡­¡± Kate said, waffling her hand. ¡°Lots of them are. Then there¡¯re the miners and workers and even deviants have friends and family, so¡­¡± she trailed off with a shrug. ¡°That¡­ makes a lot of sense,¡± Marianne said, giving Kate a one-over as if with new eyes. ¡°Surprised by her acumen?¡± I asked, gently ribbing both Marianne and Kate. Marianne¡¯s cheeks colored slightly, her blush always a bit strange compared to what most pale-skinned girls would have. Hers was a dusting of an almost-but-not shade of blue. This trait was shared as well with Kate. Likely, they shared a common ancestry, although somehow Marianne was a petite slip of a girl, while Kate an absolute brute. ¡°Ugh. Barmaids,¡± Gregory complained. ¡°Just keep your inanity to yourselves while I figure out where we need to go.¡± ¡°It¡¯s gonna be pretty boring pretty quick if they can¡¯t chat,¡± Kate said. Marianne nodded to that, but we refrained from making more than a light conversation, instead pointing out the oddities of our surroundings. We passed several intersections where a path would lead towards the cliff-face before entering a tunnel. Each of the tunnel faces were marked with a series of ticks. They seemed to sometimes repeat themselves in number, but generally were increasing. We passed a tunnel with three marks, then one with two, then another with three, before the next had five. Gregory was studiously counting the ticks on each tunnel we passed. Of course, not all intersections led to a tunnel. Several terminated at the wall of the cliff itself, although often there were abodes carved into the stone. Several even had stairs leading up to elevated homes, although from the stains along the ground, and from the stench, it seemed unlikely they had plumbing. ¡°Nasty,¡± Kate commented. One of the locals heard her and shot a glare, before Kate pulled her short sword an inch from its sheath. The locals made themself scarce. Another intersection came, this one narrower and grungier than the rest, an obvious channel used to dump bedpans and empty intoxicated bladders. My eyes watered and I grabbed my nose with my good hand. At the same time, Marianne buried her face in her sleeve and Gregory held a handkerchief to his nose. Kate sneered at the alley and chuckled at the rest of our reactions. Notably, there were no locals idling about this particular path. It was as I passed this intersection and glanced down the narrow path that my false-arm tensed, squeezing and causing a startling pain. A gentle whisper of pressure about my heart that caused my step to falter and a gasp to escape my lips, which allowed the foul air to then touch my tongue. It left me cringing. However, I also noticed a bundle laying on the ground further into the foul path. The bundle, about the size of a person, almost leaning against a wall, slumped, still, and definitely dead. My false arm twitched again. I took the hint and paused there, at the intersection, with the path to my right heading towards the Chasm, and to my left into the narrow space between buildings, nearly dark enough to require a lantern in its own right. The others kept walking before Kate realized I had stopped. She reached out to grab Gregory by the shoulder, stopping him. Marianne ran into Kate¡¯s backside, not that Kate seemed to notice. Kate turned back towards me with an arched eyebrow. ¡°You alright there?¡± she asked. ¡°That¡¯s not really the best place to break, y¡¯know?¡± Gregory, still holding a handkerchief to his nose, squirmed under Kate¡¯s grip in an effort to keep putting distance between himself and the gutter. And that was what this narrow path was, I realized, a gutter of filth and what I suspected was a dead-body. ¡°Jackie!¡± Marianne said. ¡°Come on! What¡¯re you even doing?¡± she asked in a rush. ¡°Wasting our time,¡± Gregory complained. ¡°All our clothes will need washing after this.¡± Kate still had yet to release him, although he had given up struggling against her grip. Where the gutter met the cliff-face, a shadow stood out against the stone. And while my eyes were excellent for piercing the gloom, even I had difficulty discerning what that shadow was. It seemed almost vantablack, just over the size of a human, and maybe wide enough for a person to squeeze through. It was then I realized what it was, a crevice. Was that why my false-arm had accosted me and demanded my attention? Another twitch, another whisper of pain. This, I interpreted as a no. So the body then. It was only five feet in through the gutter. I scanned the buildings and found a plank from a broken pallet. I retrieved this and approached the body. During my distraction, Kate released Gregory and joined me as I slowly, and with hesitation, approached the body. ¡°What¡¯s so interesting about that?¡± Kate asked. I was loath to do so, but to reach the body I was forced to step off our path and into the gutter, where a layer of slime and muck would undoubtedly stain my boots. As I did so, Gregory cursed about ¡®foulness,¡¯ and Marianne made a mewling sound of protest. Before my boot had a chance to test the slippery surface, I felt Kate¡¯s arm wrap around my waist and lift me into the air and backwards. ¡°Nope. Not happening,¡± Kate said. My false-arm coiled, and I thought it might have wanted to lash out, but if it did so I had no illusions that it would win. Kate had already removed one arm from me, I had little doubts she would do so again. I tried conveying calm thoughts to the false-arm, and maybe it worked, because while it did inflict some moderate pain within my ribcage, it also refrained from lashing out at Kate. ¡°Kate! Release me at once,¡± I demanded. ¡°What, so you can go poking the first ripe corpse we see? What¡¯re you, a kid? I mean, c¡¯mon!¡± ¡°And what if I did wish to do so?¡± ¡°I mean, normally it wouldn¡¯t matter much. But if you go and get that gunk on you, then we¡¯ll all be suffering tonight¡­ and the rest of the excursion, for that matter.¡± She continued carrying me towards where Gregory had stopped to pause at the next intersection, far enough to be free from the worst of the stench. Marianne was standing not too far off from him, although when she looked my way I swore that I saw a glimmer of amusement. I crossed my arms and decided to keep silent. Protesting further would only weaken whatever authority I had, as little as that amounted to. ¡°Were you really going to poke a¡­¡± Marianne asked before trailing off. ¡°Perhaps,¡± I said, unsure of how else to answer while still maintaining a modicum of self respect. Kate finally set me down, but before I could even consider going back, she put her arm about my backpack and my shoulders and forcefully guided me forward. ¡°But¡­ why?¡± Marianne asked. ¡°And is that not the question,¡± Gregory said. ¡°The answer: she is daft.¡± I ignored him, all of us did. He seemed to wilt as he realized his barb went unrecognized. Instead, I kept focused on Marianne. ¡°I am unsure, exactly, but something about it caught my interest.¡± ¡°What coulda been worth heading in there?¡± Marianne asked. ¡°If I had been permitted to investigate, I might have been able to answer that.¡± ¡°If you found anything at all to begin with,¡± Gregory said with derision. Kate slapped the back of Gregory¡¯s head causing him to stumble and curse. ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to be looking for a tunnel?¡± Kate demanded. He said an impolite word under his his breath before releasing a breath and visibly calming himself. ¡°I am,¡± he said firmly. ¡°Make no mistake, I am. A man can speak and lead at the same time.¡± ¡°Bit young to be called a man,¡± Kate said, before winking down at myself and Marianne. ¡°Ugh,¡± Gregory said. After another intersection, my false-arm calmed itself and the pressure released, allowing me easier breathing. ¡°These fools could at least light their streets,¡± Gregory continued complaining as he peered down the next intersection, towards the tunnel and the markings above it. A local looked like he had been about to offer advice, but upon hearing Gregory¡¯s tone of voice thought better of it. ¡°We could always stop for the night?¡± Marianne offered. ¡°It is getting pretty dark.¡± Kate laughed and shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s barely past midday,¡± she said. ¡°Then why¡¯s it so dark?¡± Kate shrugged. ¡°Something about the Chasm? Or the giant rock above us? Bit hard for light to work its way down here, yeah?¡± ¡°I guess,¡± Marianne said, sounding unconvinced. ¡°Besides the fact that we have the greater part of the day before us,¡± Gregory said, sounding almost civil, ¡°but would any of us even want to find lodgings?¡± ¡°Maybe?¡± Marianne said. ¡°Probably get lice,¡± Kate added. ¡°Ew. Maybe not,¡± Marianne changed her mind. I glanced down the intersection that Gregory was peering down and counted the marks. ¡°Five,¡± I said. ¡°Five again?!¡± Gregory said. ¡°I suspect the man who advised us was pulling my leg.¡± I probably should have felt flattered that he believed me, rather than marching up to the tunnel to verify the number of marks himself. One of the locals had been pushing a cart towards us along the path and paused at Gregory¡¯s outburst. ¡°Eh¡­ can I help?¡± the local, I thought possibly a teenager but of an indeterminate gender, asked. ¡°If you would be able to assist us?¡± I asked the local before Gregory offended yet another. ¡°We are seeking living resources.¡± ¡°So¡­ buy ¡®em?¡± Marianne snorted as she tried aborting a sudden laugh. ¡°As if. Retreading the conversation¡­¡± Gregory muttered. I attempted Kate¡¯s tactic and placed myself between Gregory and the local. It worked better for her than me, as Gregory was taller than me but shorter than her. Regardless, it did the trick of focusing the local upon myself. ¡°We had hoped to perform the extraction ourselves,¡± I said. ¡°You want to mine ¡¯em?!¡± they asked, incredulous. ¡°If possible.¡± ¡°That¡­ huh. Why?¡± ¡°This is for a class assignment. I believe that the difficulty is intentional.¡± They mouthed the word class, as though unfamiliar with the concept. Perhaps they were. I hoped that I had not alienated them without intention. However, they shook themselves and shrugged. ¡°Eh¡­ gonna be hard what with most of ¡®em tapped or claimed.¡± ¡°A previous source of advice pointed us towards a tunnel that was marked with six.¡± ¡°Ha!¡± they barked a laugh. I canted my head. A few seconds passed. ¡°You¡¯re serious?¡± I shrugged. Gregory muttered something impolite, while Kate watched on with amusement, appearing indifferent. Marianne decided to throw her weight in, sidling up beside me and batting her eyes. ¡°If you wouldn¡¯t mind helping?¡± Marianne said. ¡°It would be really appreciated. We¡¯ve been wandering around a bit.¡± They grimaced, looked all of us over once more, took a measure of Kate and her swords, before obliging with a shrug. ¡°Alright, sure. Looks like ya can take care of yourselves. Towards the end o town you¡¯ll start hittin¡¯ sixes.¡± ¡°All the way down there?¡± ¡°Not that far,¡± he shrugged. ¡°Thank you,¡± I said, giving a smile as well. ¡°Yeah!¡± Marianne said, before pulling out the smallest denomination of Charger and tossing it to them. They caught it and frowned at it as though in confusion. A curious reaction, a curious encounter altogether, but not one that I felt compelled to dwell on. I noted that the first had advised seven, and the second had advised six. I was unsure as to what the numbers signified, but as the second was significantly less antagonistic, I refrained from pointing out the difference to the others. Since none of the others mentioned we were now looking for a six instead of a seven, I suspected that they had forgotten the original target.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. The fools. Regardless, we continued down the main thoroughfare of Halftown, traveling the length of the ledge. There were less people about as we went, but that did not seem so strange, and I sensed no malevolence or hostility, at least not when Gregory kept his thoughts to himself. Perhaps ten minutes later, we could see the end of the road, and we finally found the first tunnel marked with six. ¡°Finally!¡± Gregory said, turning immediately and marching towards it. Some debris had piled up across the way, and he kicked at several planks before picking his way over it, keeping a hand on the wall to steady himself. But that settled that question, I determined. The purportedly intelligent boy had failed the task of remembering a single number. ¡°C¡¯mon, a little faster!¡± Kate taunted him for moving too slowly. ¡°Excuse me!¡± he snapped back, irritated. ¡°But not all of us enjoy twisted ankles.¡± ¡°Pretty sure none of us enjoy that,¡± Kate answered back. Before Marianne and I followed, Marianne pulled her lantern and set it to the most economical glow possible. Kate glanced back and Marianne shrugged, embarrassed. ¡°Not all of us see so well in the dark.¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± Gregory said, pulling out his own lantern. Kate huffed and glanced my way. ¡°What about you? Wanna pull yours out too?¡± ¡°Not at present, no.¡± ¡°Atta girl,¡± Kate said, giving my shoulder a playful punch. Playful or not, it still left a bruise. The tunnel continued downwards at a ten degree slope with smooth bore walls. It had been created through artificed devices, proven by the melted wax texture that was only broken along the mostly flat ground. It continued this way for what felt like hours with the only deviation coming from the graffiti carved into the walls, providing a colorful way for miners to communicate. And while the lanterns we relied upon were efficient, they still required a trickle of energy from a Charger. As Marianne¡¯s lantern was of a lower quality, hers was the first to exhaust its Charger. When this happened, she decided that Gregory¡¯s lantern provided enough illumination for all of us, even though it was a sole point of light and a dim one at that, at least by the time it reached us. It was dim enough that I worried the girl would stumble in the dark. For while I had excellent vision in low-light, I could not expect her to have the same. And while many would consider a stubbed toe or a stumble to be a trivial impediment, that was not so while away from civilization, as a stumble could easily turn to a sprain or worse. Hence, I chose to make an offer, the other girl¡¯s safety top of mind. ¡°If you are worried of the cost,¡± I said in a hushed tone that would be difficult for Gregory to perceive at the front, ¡°I can gift you Chargers, or lend you my own lantern if required.¡± Marianne shook her head and declined. Belatedly, I realized that I had misstepped upon the girl¡¯s pride. She was rather prudish around funds. ¡°I suppose I could always light my own lantern to light my own way,¡± I mused. She likely saw through my transparent ploy. She still declined, but this time she offered a reason for it. ¡°Thanks Jackie, but it¡¯s fine. The ground¡¯s flat enough it shouldn¡¯t matter.¡± Marianne had begun putting her lantern away, but Kate caught her before she finished with a bit of advice. ¡°Makes sense,¡± Kate interjected. ¡°But before you put that away, put a fresh Cee in it.¡± ¡°Not that I won¡¯t,¡± Marianne said, ¡°but why?¡± Kate rolled her eyes, smiled, her teeth reflecting just enough of the light ahead to grant her face an unsightly cast. ¡°So if something happens to Greggy-boy you¡¯re not fumbling in the dark.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Marianne said. She slotted in a new Charger after that, although her lantern remained off and put away. Gregory mumbled from the front about cheapskate wretches and how if anything would happen to anyone it would be to the barmaids. None of us deigned to reply to his dourness. But, true enough, Kate¡¯s caution was proven to be warranted, as eventually Gregory¡¯s lantern also expired. This plunged the entirety of the tunnel into darkness that was oppressive even to me, although not as absolute as vanta-black due to the slight glow radiating from our pouches of Chargers. This likely was insufficient light for the humans. Gregory ended up fumbling for several minutes for a Charger, grumbling all the while as Kate laughed and Marianne complained. He was taking longer than I thought reasonable to swap out a single Charger, but it was possible that he was being obstinate as a form of vengeance. It was during this point that Kate let out a sudden, loud, and quite jarring shout. I jumped and landed in a crouch, my false arm coiling in preparation to lash out and my Guise nearly melting off in a second¡¯s distraction. Marianne cried out and Gregory face-planted on the stone as all my senses strained to identify the threat. It was either invisible or otherwise undetectable. Perhaps attacking from a range beyond my own senses. However, I failed to detect any signs of motion or other besides our party. After several seconds while Gregory and Marianne recollected themselves in fear, Kate began chuckling. That chuckle morphed into a guffawing full-bellied laugh which echoed through the tunnel. There was no threat, I realized, picking myself up and double checking that my Guise remained unaffected. My false-arm writhed in irritation and I narrowed my eyes as well, not that Kate seemed to notice, or care for that matter. ¡°What,¡± she said, struggling to speak over her cackles. ¡°Fraid of the dark?¡± she taunted. The others had managed to recollect themselves as well, likely equal parts embarrassed and irritated. ¡°Juvenile,¡± Gregory complained. ¡°Puerile,¡± I said, agreeing with Gregory. ¡°I had thought we were under attack.¡± Marianne huffed and crossed her arms but refrained from joining in on the complaints. ¡°Meh,¡± Kate said with a shrug. ¡°Think of it like a drill. You all failed.¡± I frowned, about to dispute that, when Kate added, ¡°Except for Jackie, ¡®course.¡± I nodded at that. Around a minute later, Gregory had his lantern lit once more and we continued our trek. Eventually, all of us, even I, began to grow weary. The tunnel remained regular and unchanging, a seemingly infinite tube that was lapping itself without us being any the wiser. Were it not for the gradual drop in temperature, I would have thought that we truly were moving in place. The only alleviating factor was listening to our two resident idiots speak nothings to each other. ¡°This is so boring!¡± Kate complained. ¡°I thought there was supposed to be fighting, or something?¡± ¡°Preferably just mining,¡± Gregory said. ¡°Yeah, that! Everything looks the same and this is just¡­ bleh. At least show me where the ore is, right.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll know it when we come across a vein.¡± ¡°Yeah? How''s that?¡± ¡°They glow, for one,¡± Gregory answered dryly. ¡°You sure?¡± ¡°Kate. You are aware of my family¡¯s business?¡± ¡°Not mining,¡± Kate said, sounding as though she were pointing out her tongue at Gregory¡¯s backside. He opened and closed his mouth several times before shaking his head and trudging on. ¡°Like I thought,¡± Kate gloated. Ever the balm, Marianne joined in with her undue optimism. ¡°Come on,¡± Marianne said. ¡°I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll notice something soon. This tunnel has to lead somewhere, right?¡± ¡°You sure about that?¡± Kate asked back. ¡°I haven¡¯t even had anyone to fight yet!¡± If all others were joined in discourse, I found myself with no reason to refrain. Thus, I also joined in. ¡°I recall at least five persons that you have just today slain,¡± I said. ¡°I said fight! Not slay,¡± Kate said, pouting. ¡°Uhm¡­ Is that really different?¡± Marianne asked. ¡°Uh, yeah?¡± Kate answered, confused at the fact that Marianne failed to comprehend. Eventually, Marianne and Gregory began to suffer sore feet, enough so that we chose to break for the evening. After we had set out our bedrolls we set upon dinner. The others warmed water then mixed in spiced powders to create a slog of a soup. I turned up my nose at it and chose to munch on my jerky instead. It left my teeth itching, which left me remembering all my other itches, which left me aching to drop my Guise. This led to my less than altruistic offer. ¡°I will keep the first watch tonight,¡± I said. ¡°Uh. But. Why?¡± Marianne asked, before speaking more clearly. ¡°Do we need to keep watch?¡± ¡°Not sure?¡± Kate said. ¡°Nobody¡¯s even around to fight. No beasties either.¡± I gave an intentionally patronizing sigh. ¡°There are no potential enemies that we are aware of,¡± I said. ¡°That does not mean they are nonexistent. Do we want to risk some under-thing sneaking up on us while we all sleep?¡± ¡°Under-things?¡± Marianne repeated, sounding somewhat concerned. ¡°Unlikely,¡± Gregory said. ¡°Do you believe the miners that work these tunnels could survive if there were underthings? And we have seen no signs of life anyways. Even dark dwellers must eat.¡± ¡°Would you so devalue your own life as to trust it to chance?¡± I asked rather pointedly. A moment¡¯s pause, before Gregory blustered. ¡°If you want to waste your night keeping watch, then do so. But I, for one, require all of the rest I can receive. Some of us have more taxing requirements upon us than others.¡± ¡°So,¡± Kate clapped. ¡°Jackie gets first, I¡¯ll get second, and Marianne last.¡± ¡°Not Gregory?¡± Marianne said. ¡°Pfft, nah. If something attacks, wake him last.¡± He sniffed but remained silent. That night, after everyone began breathing regularly, I snuck off until I could see not even a hint of them, until I could not hear them breathing or shifting in their bedrolls, and I allowed myself to relax as my Guise dropped off. The changes came more quickly every time, now they took less than a minute to revert. Some day I hoped to get them down to seconds, to allow me to quickly drop and redone the Guise without anyone the wiser. The cracks of my bone shifting did echo a bit, but not enough that I thought the humans would hear. After I finished once again luxuriating in finally being free of the infernal itching, enjoying my tail and the sense of balance and rightness, along with my greatly increased senses, I settled back on my hanches to wait and keep watch, as I promised to do. Time was difficult to tell, but it felt like it had been a quarter hour when I heard a slight echo from further down the tunnel. I thought it might have been voices, but they might have also not been. The tunnel did odd things to sound. I made note of it and waited to see if they grew nearer or resolved into a determinate sound, but this was not the case. I redonned my Guise, feeling the itching once more begin to build up, and I returned to the others. And good that I did. For just as I came near enough to make out their outlines, I also found Kate coming towards me. ¡°Where¡¯d you get off to?¡± Kate asked upon reaching me. ¡°Further down in the tunnel,¡± I said. I offered no antagonism nor justification, simply stating a fact as though there were no reason that I would not have been where I was. The tactic almost worked, but Kate still pressed. ¡°Yeah?¡± Kate said. ¡°But what about guarding the other direction?¡± She referred to the direction from which we had come. Ordinarily she would have a point, that the best location to keep watch would be at our camp itself as enemies could approach from either direction. However, there was a greater risk from the direction which I had come, and I relied upon that to justify my absence from the camp. ¡°Really?¡± I said. ¡°Do you believe those people we saw back in town could sneak up on us while we slept?¡± ¡°Well, no. But caution is better than not. You¡¯re the one that said that, I think?¡± Kate frowned, before nodding. ¡°Yeah. Definitely you said that.¡± I sighed. Of course she would use my own words against me. ¡°That is true,¡± I admitted. ¡°But the greater threat would come from below, and an advanced warning would be beneficial enough to outweigh the risk of impoverished and sickly Halftowners from somehow following and sneaking up upon us.¡± Kate looked like she might have protested further, so I added, ¡°Additionally, I had already checked the other direction.¡± It was not a direct deceit, but other than a glance towards the direction, I had not checked it further. Despite my arguments and misleading statements, Kate remained unconvinced. ¡°If you cannot trust your own ability to sleep lightly, then at least trust that I would seek to protect both you and Marianne.¡± She grinned, ¡°Not Gregory?¡± I went to split past her, intent on reaching my bedrolls for what passed for rest in these caves. But as I passed her, she caught my good arm and turned me towards her. ¡°No good night kiss?¡± she asked, forcing me to face her. She was pouting, she was close, her breath tickled my hair and brow. With her oversized fingers firmly around my shoulder and her other hand finding my back, I had little recourse except to face her and choose between either resisting something that would not be entirely unwelcome or accepting and encouraging unfortunate behaviors and expectations. I decided to settle on a middle ground. ¡°Now I see why you arose before your shift began,¡± I said, attempting to add humor. She hummed thoughtfully. ¡°That isn¡¯t a no,¡± she said. ¡°Perhaps a quick one,¡± I said with a shrug, angling my face up towards her. ¡°But it must be quick. I would not wish to distract you from keeping watch.¡± The rest of the night passed without any notable events. At some arbitrary hour, we declared that morning had come and we packed our bedrolls. We took time to prepare hot tea spiked with spirits, the others had their breakfasts, I had my jerky. My teeth ached to rend. At least I felt full. And like that, we began our day. The tunnel continued as it had before. The darkness continued to be prevalent, but I felt we were all adapting to it, at least I was. It certainly seemed less oppressive than the day before. What felt like hours later, the shape of the tunnel changed. Instead of a smooth tunnel, there began to be irregularities carved into the wall, as if large chunks had been torn from the stone. The first time we encountered one, Gregory investigated, shining his lantern into the gap. He frowned before regaining his feet. ¡°This vein appears tapped,¡± he explained before once more continuing down the tunnel. The next gap was much the same, and the one after as well. Near the dozenth or so, we encountered a significant deviation to the tunnel. One of the irregularities seemed to shift the direction of the tunnel altogether. Or rather, the tunnel terminated into a cavern bearing scars from pickaxes. ¡°Finally,¡± Gregory said. As the cavern stretched both right and left, up and down, we had plenty of choices to choose from. Terraced ledges had been carved into the cavern walls, providing space to walk from deposit to deposit. At least, they had been deposits. Now they all appeared depleted, much to Gregory¡¯s ire. I came to consider the cavern to be a quarry, one in which we began our search for Gregory¡¯s ore. The space was large, incredibly so, it seemed to be a mixture of natural and artificial, although I could not even begin to imagine the mechanism that would have formed such a mammoth space. By the time we stopped for lunch, the best we had found was a sliver of luminescent silver wedged deep within a narrow fissure. Gregory decided it was too hard to reach for too little ore for the effort to be worthwhile. It was while we breaked, after a thoroughly exhausting and fruitless effort to location resources for Gregory¡¯s project, that Kate broached an interesting proposal. ¡°Could always head back and pick a fight for some¨C¡± Kate proposed, waving her hands in a broad manner around us ¡°-for whatever it is we¡¯re looking for.¡± Of course, the only person that failed to realize what Kate was actually proposing was Kate. ¡°Unbelievable,¡± Gregory said, sounding exasperated. ¡°What?¡± Kate asked. ¡°It¡¯s a good plan. Faster than what we¡¯ve been doing.¡± That was true, I supposed. Fortunately, Marianne took the time to actually explain the issue. ¡°Uhm¡­ Kate?¡± Marianne interrupted, ¡°I think that¡¯s called robbery?¡± ¡°What?¡± Kate said, waving Marianne off and blowing a raspberry, ¡°No. It¡¯s not.¡± Perhaps not when you do it, I wanted to say, but I doubted she would share my feelings on abuses of authority. Instead, I hedged in a much more polite way. ¡°If that is considered robbery or not,¡± I said, ¡°I think that this depends on the circumstances surrounding the fight.¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± Kate said victoriously. Gregory groaned, Marianne shook her head, and my smile grew somewhat strained. At least when I stole, I knew what it was I was doing. Kate¡¯s delusions were something else. After a pause, Gregory finally had the wherewithal to respond. ¡°Do they even have anything worth taking?¡± Gregory asked in a doubtful manner. ¡°I failed to notice any living ores or gems. I doubt the miners would be so impoverished if they had a ready supply.¡± Kate laughed. ¡°As if!¡± she said. ¡°If they don¡¯t have any and they live down here, then how in the godslicking chodes are we gonna find any?¡± Kate said crudely. Marianne sputtered from the colorful language and Gregory grimaced. ¡°No,¡± Gregory declined. ¡°While I appreciate your suggestion, Sir Garudson, I must insist that we continue our search. We are already over a day in, and we have reached a location most likely to have what we seek. If this fails, then perhaps we will discuss your¡­ alternative solutions.¡± ¡°Sure, whatever. Just trying to help,¡± Kate said, sounding indifferent but with a slight note of irritation to her voice, likely at having her idea shot down. Gregory nodded, missing the hidden note in Kate¡¯s voice. ¡°With the number of deposits here, we are certain to find something. The locals could not have mined all of it, and even if they had, it ought to have replenished somewhat by now.¡± That¡­ that made no sense. I frowned, and not because of Kate. ¡°Pardon,¡± I said, interrupting. ¡°But you mentioned that ore replenishes here?¡± Kate laughed. ¡°Called living for a reason, I guess.¡± ¡°Indeed,¡± Gregory answered. ¡°But¡­ how?¡± I asked. ¡°Can it be farmed then?¡± Gregory pursed his lips, ¡°No, I do not believe so.¡± ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that be something,¡± Kate said. The fact that valuable ores could somehow regrow over time was still boggling my mind. I could not fathom a mechanism that would account for that, at least not without some magical nonsense causing the phenomenon. And while a part of me thought to take advantage of this newfound knowledge, another part of me could not help but wonder where all of the miners were, if ore was known to regrow at this location. I had an itching suspicion that the process was either slow, unstable, or somehow dangerous. The conversation continued while I was lost in thought. ¡°I think that¡¯s kinda how the Crown makes Cee though?¡± Marianne said. ¡°Don¡¯t they farm the glowing stuff that goes in Chargers?¡± ¡°Pffft,¡± Kate said. ¡°That¡¯s different.¡± After our break, we resumed our search. As we walked, we could not help but marvel at the immensity of the cavern. Our lanterns failed to pierce their entirety; even my eyes failed to discern the far corners. While the ledges provided enough space to walk, we were cautious in our single file as a single misstep could see us plunging downwards. Not that we would keep falling; there were ledges and walkways every dozen feet. Not that I would fall to begin with, not with my Talents. But even knowing my safety was secured I still was unable to shake the feeling completely. And still, despite traversing what was clearly some manner of quarry, we failed to find what Gregory sought. Only the faintest traces of living minerals remained, the hard to reach places that not even professional miners bothered to claim. I had yet to see any signs of the veins growing or returning, and other than the occasional echo of strange sounds and whispers of conversations carried like the wind, there were no signs of active mining either. I found it strange, especially as the ore allegedly regrew itself. At one point, I thought I heard a groan winding through tunnels below us before breaching the quarry. The others thought they heard a bark, and Kate thought there might be under-things loose. Both Marianne and Gregory were spooked by the claim. I thought that Kate might have exaggerated as the sounds were distant enough that they would likely be non-entity. If there even were creatures making the sounds to begin with. I was not convinced that the strange sounds were the result of the rock adjusting or the air flowing through the labyrinth of tunnels and quarry. Eventually, we crossed another straight tunnel, much like the one we had traveled originally. Other than making note of it we left it be. It was an ascending tunnel and we thought it might return to the surface, or another outpost such as Halftown. Hours passed in the quarry; eventually, all of us grew weary and we made camp in a wide enough depression inset into the wall where a vein had once been carved from the stone. We set Kate¡¯s lantern between us and our bedrolls and shifted about until we found somewhat comfortable places to rest. This was difficult as the rock ground was hardly smooth. At some point before retiring, during our conversation, I voiced an observation. ¡°I find it curious that we have seen no signs of miners or traffic,¡± I said. ¡°Why would we though?¡± Marianne asked. ¡°The barmaid is correct,¡± Gregory added, no longer sounding demeaning in his tone. ¡°Why would miners continue to dwell where there is nothing to mine? I am beginning to doubt the veracity of the directions which led us here.¡± Kate tilted her head, idly munching on a dry chunk of what was some sort of concentrated foodstuff. Thankfully she swallowed before speaking, though crumbs still decorated her mouth. ¡°Nah, Jackie¡¯s right. Something¡¯s strange here.¡± ¡°Perhaps elaborate?¡± Gregory said, sounding both exasperated and respectful at the same time as he was addressing Kate. ¡°Meh. Jackie can if she wants. I don¡¯t care.¡± Kate stood and stretched before ambling off to relieve herself. Sometimes I regretted my keen hearing. ¡°Fine. Then Jackie, perhaps explain?¡± Gregory asked in one of the more polite tones I had heard him address me with. ¡°Yeah, c¡¯mon Jackie!¡± Marianne encouraged. It was Gregory¡¯s tone that convinced me to explain. I wanted to reward his behavior to encourage it in the future. ¡°If the miners actively worked this area,¡± I said, ¡°Then they would have had to travel just as much as we did. So then, where are the signs of their encampment? Where did they sleep, eat, make waste? Besides what has been carved from the stone, there are no signs of such traffic. I find this absence curious and strange.¡± ¡°Now that you mention it, that is kinda weird¡­¡± Marianne nibbled on her upper lip in thought. ¡°Obviously,¡± Gregory said, ¡°They took everything with them.¡± ¡°And their trash and waste?¡± I challenged. ¡°Likely filling the bottom of this quarry. Why concern yourselves with where they¡­¡± Gregory trailed off, making a face of discomfort. It had been obvious what he had been heading for. Humans made waste. That was a fact. And there was a particular sort of waste that was almost always present alongside the dregs of society. Especially when there was a lack of plumbing. But of course, this subject was distasteful enough that Gregory refused to finish the thought. I would have left it as it was as well, but Marianne, the crass soul, finished it with a teasing smile. ¡°What do you mean Gregory? You mean where they¡­ pooped? Think they carried it with them? Maybe they had little baggies to put it in?¡± Gregory grimaced and looked up at the stone above us. I also found that bit of stone very interesting. None of us answered Marianne¡¯s teasing. Of course, she found this hilarious, seeing the discomfort she had sown. Kate seemed indifferent to my plight. ¡°They might not have packed it out,¡± Kate said. ¡°I¡¯m thinking under-things.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± Marianne asked. ¡°They came through and took everything organic, wood, waste, all that. Scrubbed the place like animals do.¡± ¡°Again with the under-things?¡± Gregory asked with a sneer. ¡°Can¡¯t tell me you haven¡¯t heard them while we walked,¡± Kate said. ¡°We don¡¯t know for sure that was what it was, right?¡± Marianne asked. ¡°Sure, keep telling yourselves that,¡± Kate shrugged. ¡°But we definitely need to keep watch tonight. Greggy boy? I don¡¯t trust ya much to pull any shift but first, so that¡¯s what you get. Jackie, you get second. I¡¯ll pull third.¡± ¡°Me?!¡± Gregory protested having a watch shift, even if it was the easiest one. ¡°What of the barmaid¡¯s shift?¡± ¡°She¡¯ll trade with ya tomorrow,¡± Kate said. ¡°Fair¡¯s fair, yeah?¡± ¡°No,¡± Gregory said sullenly, ¡°but I suppose I can keep watch tonight. For an hour at least.¡± ¡°Two hours,¡± Kate said. Gregory covered his eyes and groaned. I awoke to a hard jab in my ribs on my left. I gasped and tried to make sense of the sudden jarring at the same time I heard a surprised squawk. My false-arm had thrashed and had shifted me as a result in response to Gregory kicking me awake. I realized what was happening just as the tendrils uncoiled in a spring-shot towards Gregory. I pulled up and turned, causing the lashing tendrils to miss, passing just over Gregory¡¯s shoulders as he fell back. My false-arm returned and I sent my ire towards it and used every dead-ended nerve to that arm to communicate stillness. Perhaps the message worked, or perhaps the parasite decided Gregory was no longer a risk. Either way, it calmed and began to pretend once again to be an arm. Of course, the event caused Kate and Marianne to stir ¡°Whaazat?¡± Kate slurred, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. Marianne groaned and shifted in her bedroll, turning her back to us. Gregory hissed, ¡°You attacked me! What is wrong with you!¡± ¡°Is a fight?¡± Kate said, beginning to sound normal but not quite there yet. I collected my thoughts and decided to get ahead of the accusations before they began piling on. ¡°My apologies,¡± I said. ¡°The manner in which I awoke startled me. I had not intended to frighten you.¡± ¡°You did more than just frighten me,¡± he sneered. ¡°You almost killed me, you deviant!¡± ¡°Ugh. Shuddup,¡± Kate said, realizing that there was no reason for her to stay alert. ¡°Greggy go to sleep, Jackie up. Go, go¡­ go¡­¡± she laid back down and almost seemed to be asleep, but her breathing was too regular and the slumber too immediate for the act to convince me. Gregory might not have caught it. ¡°Fine,¡± Gregory said. ¡°This will be hard to forget, barmaid. You had best find a way to make this up to me.¡± I scoffed. ¡°As though accompanying you on this excursion was not enough,¡± I said while I pulled myself from my bedroll and made a show of limbering and readying myself for my turn at keeping watch. ¡°I did not ask for your companionship,¡± he said with some venom, although he was showing fatigue himself. ¡°Nor did I ask to be kicked in the ribs,¡± I retorted. ¡°But yet, here we are.¡± Kate just happened to snort in her sleep as I said that, which was rather suspect. I put distance between myself and the camp rather than waiting for Gregory¡¯s next snide remark. Soon I found myself far enough from the camp, far enough into the dark cavern that I felt safe enough to drop my Guise. WIthout ceremony I allowed my Guise to drop and my form to revert. As the pressure released, my limbs and spine stretching and that constant itch abated, I indulged in a satisfied sigh. My chest felt light, my limbs lithe, and my sense of balance improved greatly. The release had been very much needed. Compressing myself into a too-small skin felt more and more akin to the dysmorphia I had first felt upon entering this world as a beastkin. Strange, but this had not truly become noticeable until after I had begun at the Academy. I wondered if there was a correlation there, or if it was merely coincidence. Regardless, the scant few minutes I had each night without my Guise seemed too little and already I was loathing having to redon the Guise within an hour. All the more reason to revel in the freedom of the now. And revel I would, but in a productive fashion. I decided to perform additional scouting, so long as I kept from losing myself. I glanced up at the darkness of the quarry, then down at the quarry¡¯s bottom which I could not see. I slipped my boots from my clawed and oddly jointed feet. The floor was firm, my traction great due to my Talent. But that was only the start. However, the question remained, on where did I wish to explore. If I went upwards, I could find the roof of the quarry, perhaps additional inlet tunnels. If I went downwards, I could find the floor of the quarry, and perhaps if anything of value had been lost to it. The chance of stumbling upon a forgotten treasure lured me to investigate downwards. I stepped up to the edge of the ledge, a raised heel and a toe hanging over the void, my tail swaying behind me to keep balance, I decided to indulge myself once again. I pivoted over, one foot landing on the vertical wall. And then, I ran; I ran down the wall, racing myself and gravity¡¯s call. Step after step, my feet sticking to the side of the cliff as though my toes were pressing against slight burrs in the stone. It would have been inadequate to guarantee my descent ordinarily, as even with my light weight, my center of mass was far from the wall which caused undue torque to twist upon my feet. However, my momentum released that torque, keeping my legs in line with my torso. I was traveling fast enough that keeping my balance and steering around irregularities in the stone would have been impossible were it not for my tail. The air whistled past my fur and I felt it in my ears, almost an overpowering rush, my arms were spread wide and I could not prevent my muzzle from opening to allow air to press along my tongue and throat. It was a celebration of my Talents and my form and an exhilarating rush. A chance to enjoy myself after the stuffy pace the humans had set for so many hours. I traveled quickly, within seconds I reached the next ledge down. Rather than tripping on the ledge and then face planting along the cliff-wall, I skipped from the cliff, passed over the ledge as the obstacle it was, then once more gripped the cliff beneath my face. A whoop almost escaped my throat. I passed another two ledges before my false-arm interrupted me with an unwelcome constriction. My foot missed the next step, causing a stumble, causing my upper half to over balance causing my upper half to pivot inwards towards the cliff. Were my feet not stuck to the cliff, I would have spun off into the abyss. As it was, I caught myself with my arms so that I had three points of contact and my head facing downwards. The last of the momentum was bled off when my tail whacked the back of my head. My false-arm continued to contort, but not nearly so great as to express ire. Either it was suffering from an unknown condition, or more likely, it had wanted to draw my attention in a dangerous, risky, and just generally irritating fashion. And of course, I could not simply ask the parasite what it wanted me to notice. Of course, it might have been to warn me of impending danger. That ought to have been the first thought to cross my mind when I stumbled. Perhaps I had lost myself too thoroughly then. This forced me to pause. I focused on the world around me, my hearing, touch, my sense of smell, all of it. There were some hints in the air, the acerbic afternote of faded alchemicals, the grease of laborers, the dust of the quarry, some iron, and a faint note of offal. In the thorough darkness, even my improved eyesight was limited. I failed to detect any unordinary sounds, just the natural air-currents and a general constant ambiance. As nothing became obvious, my ire towards my false-arm continued to grow. I lacked a manner to reprimand it, but I thought I would have if I could. It was as I was fantasizing of punishments that I heard it. From above, heavy stomping footsteps. Then a call came. ¡°Jackie!¡± Kate was calling rather loudly, the echo reverberating again and again and mixing with itself until all the quarry was a hum. ¡°C¡¯mon! Where¡¯d you get off to? Better not¨C¡± she continued to issue several ideas I would rather not have heard. The second I realized Kate was there, I began resettling my Guise as I twisted around and began to climb upwards once more. If I had been at my optimal, I could have tried running up the cliff as well, but with my body changing and with Kate rushing me from above I found myself defaulting to what I knew, which was crawling upwards, if quickly, compared to the speed a normal person would climb. All the while, Kate continued, ¡°-and are these your boots?! What in the godslicking¨C¡± Only part way transformed, I could hardly call out to her. I wondered if I was too near as it was in my partial state, if she could hear me, or see me, or use her other unnatural sense of perception. I climbed silently, except for the creak of my bones and the clicks of my talons and nails as they counterfeited themselves as human. Before I came through the final ledge, I paused and allowed my changes to settle before buttoning the back of my pants. Finally I could risk it. I called out to her before she did something foolish. ¡°I am on my way,¡± I said. ¡°-wha?¡± Kate said, almost squawked. ¡°What¨Cwhat are you doing down there?¡± ¡°Scouting,¡± I said. ¡°Down there? Without your boots?¡± ¡°It is easier to climb if I can feel the stone.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ but that doesn¡¯t make a lot of sense for a lot of reasons,¡± Kate said doubtfully, before offering, ¡°You need any help getting back up?¡± Rather than answering, I reached the ledge she stood on. She quickly found me and reached down and clasped my hand before hoisting me up and setting me down on the ledge beside her. She brushed dust off my shoulders, or rather made a show of it. ¡°So¡­¡± she trailed off. ¡°Not that I¡¯m gonna push you on it, because whatever it was you were doing down there was dumb, but, uhh¡­ wanna talk about it?¡± I almost snorted at the trepidation in her voice, but that would not cause me to give in and admit my reasoning so easily. And so, I said, ¡°Not particularly.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± She shuffled slightly, before finding her confidence. ¡°Did you find anything at least?¡± ¡°My search was interrupted,¡± I said dryly, making sure she knew exactly who it was that interrupted it. She handed me my boots and circled around slightly, putting me between her and the wall. ¡°Know what I think?¡± she asked, continuing to block me in. ¡°I think you just got bored.¡± I was not concerned by her posturing, although she was coming rather close. Instead, I continued in a casual and indifferent fashion. ¡°Compared to some of your previous ideas on what I was doing, I would consider merely being bored an improvement.¡± ¡°You heard those, huh?¡± Kate said, amused. ¡°I did, and I fear that Marianne and Gregory did as well.¡± ¡°Ha¡­ yeah, that would be pretty funny¡­ But¡­ you know,¡± she began to sound somewhat sly. ¡°It¡¯s still your shift.¡± ¡°If that is so,¡± I responded, ¡°Then why are you here early?¡± ¡°Well¡­ I woke up a bit and thought I¡¯d check on you,¡± she said. As she said this, she gave me a hungry lookover before completely hemming me in between the cliff and her, her arm over my shoulder and against the wall as she leaned in. Her breath was hot and damp but the smell left much to be desired. I crossed my arms over my too heavy and too bloated chest. ¡°And you accused me of abandoning my shift?¡± I asked. ¡°Well¡­ I mean, I¡¯d be right here with you in case something happened.¡± ¡°Perchance, have you considered the safety of the camp while we are otherwise distracted?¡± ¡°Ha! You¡¯re one to talk. ¡®Sides, they¡¯ll be fine.¡± I narrowed my eyes. ¡°We cannot jeopardize ourselves in such a fashion.¡± ¡°Like taking your boots off and climbing down a cliff?¡± Kate sounded far too confident in her position, but she may have had a point. ¡°Yeah. So, how about you and I¡­¡± she wiggled her eyebrows and leaned in a bit more. A jolt ran through me as her knee pressed between my thighs, applying enough pressure to raise me up until my toes left the ground. Were my body unenhanced, it would have been uncomfortable. But as it was, it was something¡­ else. A compromise seemed to be necessary here, and it was not completely unenjoyable besides. Suddenly I found it difficult to focus, but I managed to still protest, if not as strongly as I may have set out to. ¡°W-what are you suggesting then?¡± I asked, turning my face away slightly. Her free hand tilted my face back towards her. ¡°I think you know,¡± she said, so full of herself that the possibility of me refusing her had not even occurred to her. But, would it be so terrible to indulge? Maybe not completely. Afterall, the cavern was rather cold, especially without my fur, and I had no desire to fully explore that concept with Kate. But, a compromise could be enjoyable. I may have nodded slightly, only slightly though, as her fingers had yet to leave my chin. Her lips were very near my own. ¡°Clothes remain on,¡± I said, not allowing any negotiation on that part. It was not the worst thing ever. Absorption 2.6.5 ¡°Jackie?¡± Marianne¡¯s voice called out. I blinked my eyes and took stock of my situation, having just woken up. I felt a second¡¯s worth of confusion, coupled with panic, until I remembered that a lack of vision was due to a lack of ambient light, rather than some unforeseen problem with my vision. This concern though, despite its brevity, delayed me from noticing another oddity. My left side was leaning against a cold stone, not my bedroll which I would have chosen to fall asleep ordinarily. Additionally, a heavy object was draped across my shoulders, pulling me to my right, where a very warm and fortunately still clothed female body rested, breathing smoothly, at least smoothly if the intermittent half-snort was ignored. My memories of the previous night lacked the clarity they ought to have had, but that might not have been Kate¡¯s fault. What I did recall left my cheeks warm and my thoughts in turmoil and I had enough self-awareness to recognize the downsides of my ability to compartmentalize emotive triggering memories ¡°Kate?¡± Marianne asked again, more nervous than before. ¡°Jackie? Where¡¯d the two of you get off to?¡± Area Coverage: 7/9 (+1) It was then that Kate snorted particularly loudly, waking herself up with a jerk. Her arm tightened around me. ¡°Kate!¡± I hissed in her ear. ¡°You let us fall asleep while on watch!¡± She opened her mouth to speak but then broke out in a yawn that sent a wave of morning breath my way. Foul. I cringed and tried pulling away, but she still held me tight, breathing at me. My struggles were apparently unbeknownst to her. ¡°Hm? Nice way to wake up,¡± she said, smacking her lips. I wrestled my right arm out from between us and covered my nose and mouth with my hand, glaring at her. She likely would have been unable to see the gesture in the dark, but her unnatural Mark-granted sense of perception seemed to help in this regard, as she looked away abashedly. ¡°Relax,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s not a real watch shift anyways. Just practice, y¡¯know? Lighten up.¡± My glare intensified as she continued holding me. She then realized she had trapped me and lifted her arm off my shoulder. ¡°Heh. Guess I¡¯m a clingy sleeper,¡± she said, almost apologetic in tone. I huffed but decided not to make a further issue of it. It was not as though the blame lay solely upon Kate, despite what I might try convincing myself otherwise. During all of this, Marianne was still calling for us, and Gregory had just recently arisen, likely as a result of Marianne¡¯s aforementioned calling. ¡°Seriously?! Where are you?¡± Marianne called, louder than before. A yawn, loud enough to be heard a ways off, emanated from the camp, alongside the unmistakable sound of scratching fabric. ¡°Is it morning already?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°I both hope it is and it is not. Sleep came poorly last night¡­ although, if I am awake now anyways¡­¡± he must have decided to inspect Marianne, likely deeming her unworthy or some such nonsense ¡°-Please tell me it¡¯s morning. Otherwise, pray tell why you are making such a racket?¡± ¡°Uh, yeah¡­ I think it¡¯s morning?¡± Marianne said, probably wilting beneath Gregory¡¯s attention but rallying all the same despite it. ¡°Feels like it anyways, but don¡¯t you have a time-piece to check?¡± He scoffed. ¡°You mean you don¡¯t know?¡± Gregory asked, annoyed. ¡°Then what in the Crown¡¯s name am I awake for?¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s just, nobody woke me up for my watch¡­ unless¡­. Did Kate forget to switch off?¡± ¡°Nah,¡± Kate said laconically, standing up and pulling me up as well and heading towards everyone else. ¡°No worries here,¡± she said. ¡°I had it covered.¡± Kate paused, then shot a boyish grin my way. ¡°Well, me and Jackie did.¡± A sudden urge to throttle someone accosted me at that moment, either because of her presumptuous manner, her oversharing, or her irritating mode of speech. Of course I suppressed this urge, but the very fact that I had the urge I felt was telling. Although telling of what, I remained unsure. As a result of these concerns, I missed some of the conversation. ¡°-Not that I don¡¯t appreciate it,¡± Marianne said, ¡°but why? ¡­ and why do you¨C¡± it was then that Marianne laid eyes on us. It was then that Marianne visually inspected both myself, then Kate, although Kate bore the brunt of the inspection, most likely as Kate was currently rubbing the sleep from her eyes in a careless manner, followed by a brazen yawn. Kate spent little to no efforts to hide the fact that she had just awoken. ¡°-You fell asleep, didn¡¯t you?¡± Marianne asked, her eyes then narrowing at me in a similar state to Kate. ¡°But why would Jackie be with you if¨C¡± it was then that Marianne likely realized what had happened, or judging by her reaction, the more explicit possibility of several. She gasped, covering her mouth in excitement, her eyes brightening significantly. However, she tempered this tone with a sense of scandal and even more irritation at the careless disregard for the group''s safety. It led to an odd medley. ¡°-And Jackie¡­ no! ¡­You didn¡¯t!¡± Marianne almost seemed to be shivering and visibly repressing herself from rushing me and prying the details through vigorous interrogation. Naturally, this left me uncomfortable. I shied away, partially hiding behind Kate. Almost unaware of Marianne¡¯s current distress, Gregory instead expressed his dourness at being in such a near proximity to such activity at such an early hour. ¡°What are you going on about¨C¡± Gregory started to ask until he saw the disheveled state that both Kate and I suffered from; even a boy as foolish as he could guess as to what had occurred, ¡°-Oh.¡± ¡°Pfft, relax,¡± Kate told him, before speaking to both Marianne and Gregory. ¡°Nothing happened.¡± She waved them off. ¡°Isn¡¯t that right Jackie?¡± ¡°Nothing of any sort,¡± I agreed, perhaps awkwardly, however, I did shy back out from behind Kate though. I doubted any believed us, regardless. ¡°Then you kept watch?¡± Marianne asked ¡°And remained professional?¡± Gregory added. ¡°Yep. Strictly platonic,¡± Kate said. Neither of them were convinced. They were both watching us now, Marianne with bright eyes, Gregory with furrowed brows. Kate appeared indifferent to their scrutiny, while I kept a practiced aire of neutrality. Perhaps Kate was not so completely unbothered, as she quickly diverted the topic with something she had to have known would press buttons and gain a reaction. ¡°So¡­ we heading back today?¡± Kate prompted. ¡°If we do we can always go with my plan.¡± ¡°No¡­¡± Gregory shook himself and responded. ¡°I expect we shall find my target today. This is the place, and some of the ore is sure to have renewed itself. Of course, the slothful layabout miners have already exhausted the nodes closest to Halftown, so we merely need to press further.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Kate said, sounding skeptical. ¡° I don¡¯t know about how that¡¯ll turn out, but we can do that, if you want. It¡¯s stupid, but we can do it. It¡¯s your party ¡®n all.¡± Gregory¡¯s nostrils flared and his face reddened, but he kept his silence, avoiding the bait. Kate¡¯s shoulders sagged slightly when no further argument was forthcoming. However, now that the topic of mineral resources replenishing had come up in a natural fashion, I decided it was time to raise a concern that had occurred to me in response to a phenomenon that truly should not have existed and seemed foolishly unmonopolized, at least foolish if no other factors were at play. Hence, my concern. ¡°Is there perhaps a connection between the under-things and the regrowth process?¡± I hedged, somewhat worried that my ignorance would reveal more of me than I wished to. ¡°I am wondering if we should head towards where we heard them last night.¡± ¡°Ah¡­¡± Kate trailed off, likely planning to respond by force of habit before realizing she was lacking in an answer. Her mouth snapped shut. Gregory rolled his eyes, overcoming his previous irritation perhaps by recognizing the opportunity to flaunt his self-ascribed superiority. ¡°Perhaps there is,¡± Gregory said. ¡°Yesterday, when we heard the alleged under-things, were you able to discern the direction those echoes were coming from?¡± ¡°They were coming from down below, right?¡± Marianne answered. ¡°Were you asked?¡± Gregory snapped at Marianne at the same time Kate seemed to come to a realization. ¡°Huh,¡± Kate said. ¡°That¡¯s why you were down there?¡± She had aimed that question at me in regards to my previous night¡¯s foray. ¡°What?¡± Marianne asked. Gregory seemed also curious, in a judgemental fashion. I decided my best choice in the matter was to remain silent, focusing instead on the jerky I had conveniently just taken a bite of. Kate grinned at me but kept the rest to herself, instead following a tangent instead. ¡°If we heard them down below us, and if they¡¯re somewhat connected with what we¡¯re looking for, then let''s get to climbing down,¡± she decided. Her actual reasons to find someone or something to fight were hardly hidden. More remarkable was the fact that no one called her upon her reasoning. Likely because her chain of logic might actually have been sound. Perhaps that was the largest surprise of them all. When no resistance was forthcoming, Kate cheered. ¡°Let¡¯s get climbing!¡± It was then that the protests occurred. ¡°There ought to be a ramp down¡­ right? Or some sort of path?¡± Marianne pointed out, wanting to avoid climbing likely. ¡°We have yet to eat!¡± Gregory pointed out. ¡°And my water is yet to boil for tea.¡± It was at that point that Kate realized she was hungry, though nothing so comical as a grumbling belly. ¡°Yeah, I guess that makes sense,¡± Kate said, glancing at where Gregory was hunched over his lantern-stove. ¡°So, you cooking breakfast?¡± she asked. ¡°If it means I am given a chance to enjoy said breakfast?¡± Gregory said, ¡°Then yes.¡± ¡°Nice.¡± Of course, it could not have been entirely that easy. For after we finished readying ourselves, as Gregory was hammering a pinion into the stone, Marianne pulled me aside. ¡°So?¡± she asked, barely withholding her enthusiasm. ¡°Tell me! Give me all the details.¡± She was of course referring to my time with Kate the night prior. I grimaced and shook my head. ¡°Nothing happened between us,¡± I said. ¡°Jackie, c¡¯mon! Answer me!¡± Marianne called after me, her voice echoing. It was at that time that my salvation came from an unlikely source. Gregory laughed as he finished securing a pinion. ¡°That should hold all of us and our things. And you thought that me packing rope was unnecessary¡­¡± Marianne huffed and gave me another sly look. ¡°Don¡¯t think this is over,¡± she said, almost taunting. Conversation came with some difficulty while we rappelled downwards. The difficulty came not from the amount of focus required, but from the distance required between each of us as we were using the same rope. Unfortunately, difficult did not mean impossible, which meant that Marianne had ample opportunities to continue questioning both myself and Kate as to possible indiscretions. Surprisingly enough, Kate took to the teasing well. In fact, she even appeared to enjoy it as just dessert and as proof that she had succeeded in some form of conquest. Compared to her, I took it poorly and Gregory took it horribly. The fact that the teasing bothered Gregory likely only encouraged Marianne. I had no way of determining how long the gentle ribbing would continue, but considering its unpleasant ramifications, the brewing dissent, and the emboldening of Kate, I sought a method to divert our attention as obviously the very act of rappelling was insufficiently complex to absorb everyone¡¯s attention. Featherlight: 5/9 (+1) Hence, when I found an opportune diversion, I eagerly took it. It was as we were descending past another terraced ledge that I caught sight of something of interest: there were signs of recent traffic, displaced dust and grime beyond what was ordinary. It was to this I alerted the others. As I had been in the middle of the rappelling line, when I called out that I had found tracks, that meant Gregory and Kate both had to climb back up to the ledge I had found the tracks on. Kate seemed unbothered by the physical excursion of climbing, but Gregory was peeved. ¡°What did you call us back up for?¡± Gregory complained. ¡°We saw nothing of note as we passed.¡± I crouched down to point out the scuff marks and likely footprint, although the footprints themselves were difficult to determine due to the lack of soft ground. Displaced dust could only reveal so much. ¡°I believe these were left by someone recently,¡± I pointed out. ¡°Really,¡± Gregory asked, expressing doubt. ¡°And how did you come to this belief?¡± ¡°The dust has yet to settle evenly over the displacement,¡± I explained. Kate slowly nodded along, before asking, ¡°Where¡¯s the dust coming from, and how fast does it come down?¡± Gregory laughed, ¡°Exactly! Several pieces of information are steadily missing in your assumptions, making your belief that these are recent tracks null and void.¡± Marianne seemed somewhat put out on my behalf, even though I remained unbothered by Gregory¡¯s assertions. ¡°It¡¯s more of a lead than anything else we¡¯ve found,¡± Marianne said. ¡°It¡¯s not like we have a better place to start.¡± ¡°We could keep going down,¡± Kate pointed out. ¡°Exactly,¡± Gregory agreed with Kate, even though Kate did not sound so certain. ¡°But if you¡¯re looking for a possible fight,¡± Marianne said suggestively. ¡°There¡¯s probably a better chance of following recent traffic, right?¡± ¡°The tracks may have been left by a person,¡± I pointed out. ¡°Pfft, same difference,¡± Kate said. ¡°You can tell which direction they went?¡± I examined the tracks and saw which direction the grime tended to push. While not exactly a science, a foot lands and if scuffs, the toes push sharply forward, while the step forward leaves a fainter trail behind. Of course, the difference is very slight, especially when dealing with hard surfaces and dim lighting. Impending Sense: 7/9 (+1) However, I was up for it and after following along, I was more than half certain I could determine the direction the steps were leading. ¡°I believe so,¡± I answered Kate, then pointing out the most likely direction. ¡°Ridiculous,¡± Gregory muttered, but not disputing my claimed skill, at least not directly at that moment. He seemed content to complain, likely realizing that heading downwards offered no immediate incentive that following the tracks would not. Except for one issue that he did point out. ¡°Say we believe you, and these tracks were left by a person, presumably a laborer or miner. Would not us following these tracks merely lead us towards where they have established themselves, or worse, an exhausted vein?¡± ¡°Yeah but,¡± Kate answered, ¡°We don¡¯t know the veins depleted, and if we find where they set up, I¡¯m pretty sure we can land you what you need fast and easy.¡± Gregory frowned at Kate. She punched his shoulder lightly. He grimaced. ¡°Come on,¡± Kate weedeled him. ¡°You know this is a better shot at finding you your stuff. ¡°Plus, I¡¯m bored.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± Gregory said with an exasperated groan. ¡°We can try following these alleged tracks, although I am incredibly dubious. But for you Kate, fine.¡± We then set off following the trail along the terraced ledge. As there were only two directions, forward and backward, my skills as a tracker were not overly required after declaring the initial direction. Because of this, Kate took point. She set a quick pace that Marianne struggled to maintain casually with her short legs and heavy pack. Gregory was soon breathing harshly as well. It was Marianne¡¯s struggle that caused me to speak out. ¡°Pardon, Kate?¡± I said. ¡°Yeah? You see something?¡± Kate asked over her shoulder. ¡°Please tell me you did.¡± ¡°Unfortunately not as of yet,¡± I said. ¡°Then what¡¯s up?¡± Kate slowed her pace as we spoke, perhaps without realizing. ¡°That is just the issue,¡± I said. ¡°At our current pace I am unable to ensure we continue following the path.¡± Gregory scoffed, but remained silent otherwise. ¡°So?¡± Kate said. ¡°Not like we can lose the path¡­¡± ¡°I see your reasoning,¡± I said. ¡°But what if the one we follow left the ledge? We would be unaware until much too late, and our own traffic is obscuring all signs behind us.¡± ¡°Huh.¡± Kate finally paused, glancing down at the ground, then over the edge, peering into the darkness that our lanterns failed to pierce. ¡°I could see it. You wanna take lead then?¡± ¡°I believe that course is our surest option.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Kate still hesitated. ¡°That could work. But the first sign of trouble, get behind me, right?¡± I regarded Kate cautiously. She would have already lost respect for me had she thought I were helpless in a fight, so it could not have been that. But simply taking actions to pre-emptively hide from a fight, in such an obvious manner, might lead to an appearance of cowardice. I could not simply tell her I was happy to avoid a fight, even though I very much was. Thankfully, I had anticipated this problem and had prepared accordingly. ¡°Certainly,¡± I said with an incredibly dry tone, ¡°I would be loath to part you from your entertainment.¡± ¡°Ha!¡± Kate said, buying the dry wit for what it was, once again proving that she was hardly a simple brute. ¡°Want me to save some for you?¡± I rolled my eyes. ¡°Only should there be enough to slake your thirst.¡± Marianne pursed her lips, amused, glancing between Kate and I. Her thoughts were unfathomable, but I hoped they involved gratitude as I then took the lead, followed closely by Kate. The pace I set was far more casual, and I took several overdone pauses to crouch down and check the trail. It was as I rose from one such pause that the conversation turned. ¡°Where¡¯d you learn to track, Jackie?¡± Marianne asked. ¡°Isn¡¯t that something for hunters and¡­ mercs, I guess?¡± ¡°Mercenaries?¡± I asked back. ¡°I believe that Sir Gaurdson had attempted to enroll me among their numbers, once.¡± ¡°Ha! I did, Forgot about that,¡± Kate said. ¡°Good source of Cee, that. Why¡¯d you turn that down? Was genius.¡± ¡°I believe I explained my reasoning at the time,¡± I said. ¡°All of the high paying jobs in the near term would have been inordinately risk prone. Likely fatal to any but the most experienced and enhanced. And may I remind you that I do not have a combat rated enhancement?¡± ¡°You tried joining the Mercenary Guild?¡± Marianne asked, amused. ¡°-No.¡± ¡°-Yes,¡± Kate answered at the same time. ¡°It made sense!¡± ¡°A foolish endeavor,¡± Gregory said, surprising everyone in coming so near to criticizing Kate. ¡°Yeah?¡± Kate asked. ¡°Indeed. It would demean your station. And sending a barmaid or courtier to hunt and fight dangerous entities seems cruel at best.¡± I missed a step. Gregory had caught me by surprise by actually showing consideration, even if it came from a place of indulgent superiority. ¡°That said, however, I find it curious that a barmaid has learned to track. That would be more common for a huntsman from across the Chasm. A curious skill, is it not?¡± And there is his angle. He likely only issued his first considerations to cast himself in a reasonable light, which he then used to throw an almost-aspersion towards my character. Because of course, I must have some reason to have such a skill. That, or I was deceiving them, would be the implicit alternative to his reasonableness. The worst part was that I could find no way to easily counter the tactic. It left me regretting that I had bothered demonstrating my skill in the first place. In hindsight, my decision to aid this excursion with anything beyond the bare minimal effort had been foolish. As I mulled over my sudden decision to sabotage Gregory, Kate continued the conversation, seemingly indifferent to Gregory¡¯s subtleties. ¡°Yeah, but¡­ it is kinda weird as far as Glyphs and enhancements go,¡± Kate said. ¡°Especially, you know, considering everything. ¡°Truly?¡± I answered, deciding to deflect. ¡°Just as it is strange I learned combat in an arena with you under the tutelage of Instructor Blackrest?¡± ¡°Oh yeah¡­¡± Kate mused, as though she had just recalled some ancient history. ¡°I guess even then you¡¯re not really using the common skillset, yeah?¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± I said. We continued onward. I did my best to distance myself from subsequent conversation, losing any interest in dialogue with a cretin such as Gregory Silverborn. Fortunately, within a half hour I found something of note. If I had been distracted, I would have missed it. I still almost decided to keep this to myself, except then I would be blamed for either losing the trail or deceiving the group. Besides, Kate had been getting antsy lately, and I thought it better for both Marianne¡¯s and my own health to find Kate a productive method to vent. Thus, I paused and pointed out my find. Even knowing where it was, it was easy to miss, especially with the shadows cast by the dim lanterns. Along the wall, just over the height of a man, wide enough for a hand-cart, and at an offset so as to partially conceal it, there was a chasm-like opening demonstrating signs of frequent travel. Dust and grime had been pushed to the sides, with signs of wear on the stone floor itself. ¡°I believe we have found the point where the tracks divert from the quarry,¡± I said, before explaining my findings. Not that they cared for a lengthy explanation. As I noted their short attention spans, I simplified matters. ¡°This is where the subjects enter and exit the quarry, and somewhat frequently at that. ¡°Subject?¡± Marianne repeated, confused. ¡°Wait, so what, miners? We¡¯re talking people, right. Not¡­¡± she gulped, ¡°underthings?¡± ¡°They went in there?¡± Kate asked, interest piqued. She drew a dagger rather than her short sword or bastard sword. ¡°If that¡¯s the case, then I¡¯m taking point.¡± Kate brushed past me in her haste to enter the passage, only a slight green-hued light emanating from her belt where she had a glowstone attached. She preferred her glostone as compared to a lantern for several reasons, largely impacted by her ability to perceive regardless of lumens. ¡°Are we certain this is appropriate?¡± Gregory asked, lingering outside of the passage alongside Marianne and I, although I had been in the process of following after Kate. This caused Kate to pause in the passage-way. ¡°Nah, this is great,¡± she said. ¡°Best chance we got.¡± ¡°But¨C¡± Gregory began to protest further. ¡°-Yeah, but no. I¡¯m not hanging around out there a minute longer. It¡¯s boring as mass¨C¡± ¡°-There is not a single person in living memory that actually knows how boring mass was¨C¡± Gregory tried explaining in a patronizing tone before Kate spoke over him. ¡°-Really?¡± Kate scoffed, ¡°Technicalities? Point is, I¡¯m bored. This sucks. You can stick around here if you want, but me and Jackie are checking it out.¡± I grimaced. There were plenty of issues that I detested about this conversation, but one issue bothered me more than the rest. ¡°I believe you mean, Jackie and I,¡± I corrected her grammar. ¡°Additionally, I have yet to consent to this course of action.¡± Kate started to scoff, before ending up chuckling and shaking her head. ¡°Since when does Jackie talk in third person?¡± Kate asked playfully. Under her breath, Marianne said, ¡°That¡¯s what she takes from that?¡± ¡°Idiotic imbecilic moronic¨C¡± Gregory muttered a string of curses. I knew that Kate heard both of them, just as I did. However, she ignored them and focused on me. ¡°You know you wanna,¡± Kate said. She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and grinned as she said that. ¡°Yes, you are correct,¡± I said, rolling my eyes. ¡°Fine. Take point, I will follow.¡± ¡°You got it, babe.¡± Kate winked. She turned back towards the passageway ahead of us and continued forward, expecting the rest of us to follow. I was uncertain if she would care overly much if Marianne or Gregory followed after. When Kate detected me following into the passage behind her, her pace quickened slightly. After only a few moments, Marianne and Gregory followed along after, although there was a significant space between them and Kate, with me in the middle. It was due to this that I heard Marianne and Gregory gossiping behind us. ¡°I can¡¯t decide if I should be upset that their carelessness might get us killed,¡± Marianne said, ¡°Or if I should be happy that they¡¯re finally starting to share their feelings with each other¡­¡± Marianne, I had come to realize, was something of a romantic. This was somewhat surprising compared to her initial stance towards Sir Gaurdson, which was more along the lines of a transactional relationship between Kate and I, to take advantage of Kate¡¯s resources. Of course, Kate¡¯s affections were still contested by Gregory, although he was the only one contesting anything, and it seemed rather more of a foible than anything sensible. Regardless, emotions are not so easily controlled, and Gregory let some bitterness slip in with a denial. ¡°Please,¡± Gregory said with a derisive sniff. ¡°They are strictly platonic. A master and a servant, nothing more.¡± Marianne¡¯s voice took a teasing lilt. ¡°Keep telling yourself that,¡± Marianne said. The passageway continued on for far longer than I had anticipated. Initially, I had assumed it to be a joining threshold between the quarry and another artificed tunnel. However, the seam we followed along was too consistent to have been formed naturally, at least not all the way. At several points the rocks bore obvious scarring from some sort of tooling. A half hour later, when all of us realized the narrow passageway would continue onwards, dissent began to be voiced. ¡°I should be the one taking the lead,¡± Gregory said. ¡°The excursion is under my name, my project, and I am the sole one here that knows what we seek. Why am I not in front?¡± ¡°Does it matter?¡± Marianne asked. ¡°You¡¯ll see everything we pass just fine where you¡¯re at, right?¡± ¡°It matters,¡± he scoffed, though he failed to provide an explanation as to why. Eventually, the complaints continued for such a time that Kate grew annoyed and halted, turning to address us, her dagger still held in a loose grip. When we all had stopped and were focused upon her, she snapped. ¡°Keep it quiet!¡± she said. ¡°And why should I?¡± Gregory asked. Kate growled, but before she could speak, Marianne chimed in. ¡°Maybe you should listen to her?¡± Marianne advised, her eyes glancing over the dagger and then to over Kate¡¯s shoulder where the dark passage loomed ¡°Ugh. And now the barmaid knows best as well?¡± Gregory spurned the advice. Marianne opened her mouth before shutting it once more, likely having seen Kate¡¯s expression. It was curious, Kate¡¯s sudden turnabout. She had been fine with bantering thus far; her skin impervious to verbal taunts. It left me wondering if Kate¡¯s perception picked up on a threat that I had failed to notice, or if she expected an encounter soon¡­ I strained my senses to see if I could detect any credible obstacle or danger, yet I failed to find anything that would have caused this attitude. As I result, I tilted my head and sent Kate a querying look. If Kate noticed my attention, she showed no sign. However, she did explain herself, at least partially. ¡°Just, keep quiet,¡± Kate said. ¡°Your voices are grating¨C¡± My eyes widened at that blunt insult. Who was she directing this at, I wondered. It seemed more towards Gregory, but also somewhat to Marianne. I almost wanted to flinch when Kate¡¯s eyes scanned over me as well, but I resisted the urge as it would only diminish my image. ¡°-and who knows what we¡¯re following here.¡± Gregory protested, ¡°You forget yourself, Sir.¡± While Marianne decided silence the best course of action. ¡°Nah,¡± Kate said dismissively, not even bothering to sneer. ¡°I¡¯m just tired of listening to prattle while I¡¯m trying to do my job here.¡± ¡°And what job is that?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°Commandeering my excursion? Leading us headfirst into a possible scenario where we act as brigands?¡± ¡°Ughhh, shuddup,¡± Kate said, pointing her dagger at Gregory, not as an intentional threat but as a speaking aid. ¡°What I¡¯m doing is my job here, which is keeping you safe. Or you forget the ride down to Halftown already? Read too many books that you forgot to appreciate the blade?¡± That¡­ was not an idiom that I had heard before, and I suspected that there was some deeper context here that I was missing. This was confirmed when Gregory answered with an equally cryptic taunt. ¡°Always blayed this, blayed that,¡± Gregory spat. ¡°Dreor bana ak blayed. Nevermind the rest of the world that actually produces and invents. If not for those such as I, you and yours would be using sticks and stones. Utter folly.¡± Those phrases were familiar, but I was unsure of from where. I caught Marianne¡¯s eye and mouthed a question, ¡®What?¡¯. She shook her head and mouthed, ¡®Later.¡¯ ¡°Just¨C¡± Kate said, shuddered as she visibly repressed what was likely anger, ¡°-keep it down. Unless you really do want to go out on your own.¡± Gregory frowned, matching Kate¡¯s glare, before scoffing. ¡°Fine. Have your way. Perhaps this prevailing darkness and constant close proximity has dulled all of our patience.¡± ¡°Yeah. That,¡± Kate said. We had been filing through the narrow canyon, more a crease between two plates than passage, for the better part of thirty minutes before the path split. Kate stepped along one then turned to face me. ¡°Which way?¡± she asked. ¡°Why ask her?!¡± Gregory demanded. ¡°She knows how to track,¡± Kate responded as though Gregory was lacking mental faculties. ¡°Oh, really?¡± Gregory sneered. ¡°And where did she learn to do that? In the Grace program, perhaps?¡± And once more, this question arose. Once more, I ignored it, refraining from answering. Better an unanswered mystery than a lie, and better a lie than the truth. Kate scoffed. ¡°What, jealous someone¡¯s actually useful?¡± Gregory clenched his fists before performing an abortive breathing exercise. He managed to relax, if only somewhat. His voice was still strained. ¡°If she¡¯s just pretending and leads us astray?¡± Gregory said. ¡°Yes, I believe it does. Just what are her credentials?¡± Gregory turned his attention to Marianne. ¡°Were you taught how to track in that brothel of yours? A useful skill for courtesans, I imagine¡­¡± Marianne flinched, then shook her head. Under her breath, she mumbled, ¡°Don¡¯t work at a brothel.¡± Neither Kate nor Gregory seemed affected by this mumbling, but Gregory was still waiting for a clear answer. ¡°Well?¡± Gregory prompted. ¡°Were you taught this?¡± Marianne looked up from the ground and caught Gregory¡¯s eye. ¡°No,¡± Marianne said. Gregory seemed about to once more raise an issue; I decided to cut him off before he could foul the air further with his voice. I arose from where I had been inspecting the path and I pointed towards the direction that our quarry had left. While I did so, I said, ¡°You act as though more than simple observational powers are required to follow the most worn trail with the most recent signs of disturbance.¡± At that, Kate decided to give tracking a try. She peered down at her feet and scuffed some of the dirt, noticing the displaced grime. ¡°Y¡¯know, I can kinda see it,¡± Kate said. ¡°But it¡¯d be tough without pretty good eyes.¡± Courtly Dancing: Treachery: 8/9 (+1) From there, Kate led us down the path. We were once more traveling single file. While two of us could walk abreast, the fit would have been uncomfortable. However, as we followed the trail of what we were growing certain was the trail of humans, likely miners, Marianne raised a valid point. ¡°If we are following miners¡­ Won¡¯t the stuff be more recently mined here, so none of the ores that we need?¡± ¡°Exactly right!¡± Gregory said, praising Marianne for coming to the same conclusion he had earlier, even though he had never bothered actually verbalizing that conclusion. ¡°So, Sir Gaurdson? Why are we following this alleged trail?¡± Kate blew a raspberry but otherwise refrained to respond. After a moment, Gregory scoffed. ¡°Is that your answer, really?¡± He asked. Another pause. The silence was growing awkward. Eventually, Kate succumbed to the social expectation and she responded. ¡°I¡¯m bored, alright?¡± Kate said. Gregory took an indulgent and patronizing tone, as though he were speaking to a small child. ¡°If our time down here is boring, then we should find what we need quickly so that we can then leave. This decision to follow after miners returning from the quarry will certainly delay us from achieving what we need. If you dislike our progress currently, then why delay us with this tangential quest to track these people?¡± I thought I could hear someone grinding their teeth, possibly Kate. After Gregory finished his spiel, Kate shot back a simple insult. ¡°Greggy boy,¡± Kate said. ¡°Greggy, greggy, schmeggy leggy Greggy,¡± she added nonsensically. ¡°This?¡±Greogry asked, his voice somewhat heated. ¡°I have not heard you speak such crudeness since you were in diapers. I fear you may have regressed.¡± ¡°We¡¯re getting your dumb ore right now. It¡¯s why we¡¯re following people that were already here. They know where the stuff¡¯s hidden.¡± ¡°Oh? Is that so?¡± Gregory asked with much sarcasm. ¡°And here I had thought you were merely seeking a fight to relieve your boredom.¡± Kate barked a fake laugh, clearly having forgotten her earlier directive of remaining silent to avoid alerting potential enemies. Kate then said with a forced glibness, ¡°Can¡¯t a girl have it both ways? A fight and whatever else we¡¯re looking for?¡± ¡°Unbelievable.¡± We fell into a sullen silence for some time, which allowed me to hear the sound of metal ringing upon stone first. I tapped Kate¡¯s shoulder then leaned towards her ear. ¡°Do you hear them ahead?¡± I asked her. ¡°Not yet,¡± Kate answered. ¡°What is it?¡± She had halted, causing all of us to to so as well, although Gregory bumped into my back before he realized we had stopped. Surprisingly, he was aware enough to keep from speaking out immediately. ¡°Miners, I think. It sounds like pickaxes, but I cannot be certain.¡± ¡°Perfect,¡± Kate said. She then resumed her pace, this time with a quick gait that left us behind until we hurried to follow. ¡°¡®Bout to prove you wrong, Greggy boy.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± Gregory asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously even as he hurried to keep up. ¡°Jackie, what is happening, what did you hear?¡± He asked me. As he asked politely, at least for him, I deigned to answer. ¡°There is activity up ahead,¡± I said. ¡°What might have been steel striking stone. Somewhat irregular rhythm. There may have been voices as well, although the distance is great enough away I am unsure¡­¡± ¡°Miners then,¡± Marianne said. ¡°We weren¡¯t sure before, but now we are.¡± I glanced behind her and thought I saw her eyes glowing like fresh snow in morning sun, but the illusion faded nearly immediately. ¡°We will attack them, kill them?¡± Marianne asked. ¡°Innocents?¡± Kate heard and blew a raspberry from up ahead. ¡°Nah,¡± Kate reasoned. ¡°Probably criminals. No innocents down here.¡± ¡°Do you know this for certain?¡± Gregory asked, apparently suddenly concerned for his lessers. Whatever his game was, I was unsure. It made me glad that Kate refused to play, merely laughing. ¡°I may not know if these miners are criminal or not,¡± Gregory said, continuing this theater. ¡°But what you propose positively is¨Ccriminal, that is.¡± ¡°Nah,¡± Kate said. ¡°It¡¯s only criminal if you¡¯re caught.¡± ¡°Are you not an agent of the Crown¡¯s Law?¡± Gregory asked, aping at being horrified for abuses that he was only ¡®suddenly¡¯ realizing. What a fool he was. ¡°It¡¯s only a crime if we¡¯re caught, and none of us¡¯re gonna snitch. At least, I know Jackie won¡¯t. What of you Gregory? You Marianne? Either of you snitches?¡± ¡°Unbelievable.¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t sound like a no,¡± Kate said. ¡°Maybe I outta make sure you keep this to yourself?¡± I doubted Kate meant anything by the threat, just as I doubted Gregory actually cared about the people we were quickly approaching¨Cbecause we were quickly approaching them and Gregory had not stopped and Kate continued to stride forward, unbothered by the noise we generated. We were near enough to the ringing metal on stone and the clank of stone falling on stone that everyone else could also hear, although distance was still difficult to determine. ¡°Fine!¡± Gregory snapped. ¡°I will refrain from speaking of whatever idiocy is you choose to do, even if it is criminal. Does this leave you happy? Allowing you to pervert the Crown¡¯s Law?¡±Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Does it make me happy?¡± Kate mused, ignoring Gregory¡¯s provocation otherwise. ¡°Good question. Not yet, but, I think it¡¯s about to.¡± She picked up the pace even further, nearly running. I kept up, but the other two struggled to maintain the pace while carrying their laden packs. We were now near enough for me to hear snippets of conversation in husky and worn-down voices. ¡°-he said that?¡± A man asked. ¡°-them words?¡± The same said after an unheard response. ¡°-then he outta lick chodes and¨C¡± ¡°-what, you gonna tell ¡®im? What I thought.¡± ¡°-yeah yeah. Almost done. Not like there¡¯s a lot here¨C¡± None of it was making sense, and while I thought I heard two voices, it may have just been the one talking loudly and with subtle differences. The degree of inconsistency in tonal qualities left it difficult for me to make sense of the overheard conversation¡¯s context. Kate opened up into a sprint, leaving me behind as she went around a corner, a brighter corner, illuminated from the other end. I rushed to follow and came around the corner as well. Up ahead was a chamber carved in the stone, lit by a hanging lantern. A stone was tossed onto a hand-cart, clattering. Metal came down on stone from the side, near one of the crudely carved walls. Kate was darting forward, her short sword in hand and held behind her like a lazy tail. Silent and as quick as lightning. There were two men in the chamber, miners. They were covered in dust and grime, their skin and clothes covered in what could have been paste or chalk, with how thickly the dusty residue stuck to them. Neither of them saw Kate approach. Nor did they hear our footsteps. Nor Gregory calling from somewhere back in the passageway we came from. The miners may as well have been blind and deaf. Not that it would matter. The first miner fell, grasping at rent flesh and falling back to the ground to thrash his legs as he bled out. The second miner finally noticed something was wrong. He turned, confusion writ across his face, pickaxe held loosely, his lips halfway to speaking a question. When his eyes landed on his thrashing coworker and the pool of blood staining the chalky dust red, the miner startled. It came too little and too late. I inspected the rest of the room as Kate finished her grisly task. A lantern hung from the ceiling, rocking slightly from the air currents ever-present in the mines. There was a worn and dry-rotted table pushed to the side of the chamber. A glowing chasm was in the wall, near a half-full ore-cart. The ore-cart also glowed, if subtly. By the time I finished cataloging the room¡¯s contents, the two men were dead. Kate turned back towards us, as Gregory and Marianne had finally caught up and had entered the chamber behind us. Kate grinned in a satisfied fashion, as though she just scratched a difficult to reach and persistent ache, reminding me of my own ever-present and ever-worsening itch as I was forced to maintain this false body, this Guise. But, Kate was still grinning. She pointed towards the ore-cart. Her voice took a smug tone. ¡°Best of both, what did I tell you?¡± Kate said. Even though I felt obligated to take her side, and this urge was quite the strange occurrence, despite this suspect obligation, her insufferable tone felt too much to bear. As Gregory inspected the ore-cart¡¯s contents, which seemed to be mostly rock with sporadic razor thin veins of a glowing substance, one of the assumed deceased miners turned out to be only mostly dead, for while in his death throes, one of the miner¡¯s legs landed upon Gregory¡¯s ankle and boot. Of course, Gregory cringed and backed away from the whole thing; Kate, unbothered in the slightest, continued to rummage through the ore and held up one specimen that was covered densely with veins, likely the most promising of the lot. ¡°So?¡± Kate said, waving the rock around then tossing it to Gregory. He fumbled the catch. ¡°Like I said, we should have done this from the start. We could be back on the surface now, instead of trawling through these tunnels and caves.¡± Gregory frowned at the ore in his hand and inspected it from multiple angles. Eventually, his lips curled just slightly before he shook his head. ¡°Unfortunately for us, this ore is insufficient for our excursion. Perhaps had we merely questioned these men we might have learned where more promising deposits could be found.¡± ¡°Laying it on a bit thick,¡± Marianne muttered, only to be ignored by Gregory. Kate meanwhile looked as though she had bit into a particularly sour lemon. Gregory continued to point out just how the ore was insufficient. Whether he was telling the truth or not, I could not be certain, but I doubted he was so compelled by spite to deny the ore before him, at least if the ore were sufficient for his target. ¡°... And while this ore could be refined into something useful, its base purity is not high enough to make it worthwhile on its own,¡± Gregory explained. Kate clicked her tongue, somehow communicating disgust with such a minimal expression. ¡°Yeah, but if it¡¯s not pure enough, just grab enough of it to melt down or purify it or whatever it is you guys do. Seems simple enough¨C¡± ¡°-Kate,¡± Gregory cut in. ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°Are you willing to carry a half-ton of the ore back?¡± ¡°I mean, I could¡­ because I can totally lift that much¡­¡± ¡°And carry it all the way back to Halftown?¡± Kate winced. ¡°Exactly,¡± Gregory said. ¡°Alright, I see what you¡¯re getting at¡­¡± During this period, Marianne had decided that rather than standing around with mostly-dead miners and listening to Kate and Gregory bicker, Marianne had entered into the roughly hewn recess along the side of the chamber, where the miners had been carving away at what was presumably a vein. This was the same vein that had glowed brightly enough that the light was visible despite the lantern in the chamber. ¡°-I think there¡¯s some better stuff back here,¡± Marianne called back out to the chamber. ¡°This one looks bigger than the ones in the cart. Kinda back there though,¡± she finished, stepping out from the recess and pulling Gregory¡¯s attention away from Kate. ¡°Then I must check to see if this meets my needs,¡± Gregory said, entering the recess though stepping carefully around the loose and jagged stones. After several minutes, Gregory returned with his verdict. ¡°There is indeed a node of living materials near to the surface here. The deeper in we go, the better the purity. I expect that with much effort, we could gain access to ore of sufficient purity.¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± Kate said. ¡°Get to it then. Sooner you do, the sooner we can leave.¡± Gregory, however, made no move to begin mining for his ore. All of us stared at him for a moment before he glanced back into the recess and gave an ambiguous sniff. Kate frowned, glancing between him, his lacking arms, and then the pickaxes that the miners had been using. ¡°Well?¡± Kate snapped, quickly exhausting her minimal reserves of patience. Gregory blew out a breath. ¡°I had hoped you might offer assistance in the matter?¡± ¡°Yeah, but no. How long¡¯re you gonna take to get to work?¡± It was curious that Kate would decline to do the labor for him, as doing so would see us leave earlier. However, knowing that Kate and Gregory were currently feuding, I could see how Kate would let her emotions cloud her decisions. ¡°Yes, hm¡­ This may be awkward for me to share, but manual labor is not my strongest skill-set.¡± Marianne winced while Kate chuckled and shook her head. ¡°I would anticipate I would require at least a day? Perhaps more, if the node is further back than I guessed.¡± ¡°Do we even have that long to make it back up in time?¡± Marianne asked. And then, there was the other uncomfortable fact, one that I would be remiss to fail to mention, that ought to have been common sense, but that was apparently absent from the three teens and their decision making skills. Thus, I pointed it out. ¡°Presumably,¡± I said, ¡°These two miners were members of a larger operation. There is a high chance their absence will be noted and then acted upon.¡± ¡°Pfft,¡± Kate scoffed. ¡°I¡¯m not worried. Let ¡®em come.¡± Gregory also seemed unbothered by the chance of being caught by the deceased miners¡¯ peers. ¡°And it would only require a day if I received no help,¡± Gregory said. Sensing that Kate had no plans to aid in mining, Gregory then turned to Marianne. ¡°Sorry, but I can¡¯t,¡± Marianne said. Before Gregory could ask further, Marianne explained, ¡°I¡¯m too small, and too weak. I would be a worse choice than you in the matter¡­¡± Clever, I thought. Claiming that Gregory was her superior both fitted in with his ego and excused her from the labor. But then, Gregory turned towards me. Kate stepped between Gregory and myself, pre-empting my own denial, which I would have issued. I had no intention of aiding Gregory either. This excursion had no bearing upon me, in whether Gregory succeeded in claiming his materials or not. Besides, if Kate declined to help, then I could hardly undermine her position by helping myself. ¡°Ha!¡± Kate said, gloating. ¡°Looks like you¡¯re on your own, none of us want to help. You might want to hurry and get to work, if we¡¯re gonna meet your deadline. It¡¯s gonna take a couple days to get back.¡± Gregory grimaced in discomfort, glanced at the vein and where the node might have been, before shuddering. ¡°What do you recommend then, Sir Gaurdson?¡± Gregory asked. Kate was suddenly grinnging, a sadistic cast to her face, especially with the shadows cast by her unruly mop of bluish blonde hair. ¡°You said there was a larger operation here, Jackie?¡± We continued following the tracks, as the miners had not been carrying their ore-cart to the larger quarry, at least not recently. They had been traveling from the chamber towards somewhere else, further in, towards what we hoped was a larger operation for Kate to conquer and then for Gregory to subsequently rob. The blatant corruption involved in this scenario would have been uncomfortable, except I had always known that nothing touched by humans was incorruptible. Everything and everyone operated per their own needs; it would be the height of lunacy to believe any set of arbitrarily made rules and guidelines could steer a single person, let alone an entire society. From how quickly Marianne and Gregory submitted to Kate¡¯s plans, I think that they also were not so naive, that, or they had quickly found a way to justify our actions with lies and delusions. Eventually, the passageway widened out, enough for two ore-carts to pass side by side. During this period, I walked nearest to Kate, just a half-step behind her. The other two kept near as well. Kate was the one to broach the sullen air first. ¡°Walking through these hallways feels familiar,¡± she said. ¡°It does,¡± Gregory admitted. Marianne seemed confused by this, and I acted as though I were confused as well. However, I suspected that Kate and Gregory were referring to their time in the wastes when they had joined an ill-fortuned caravan. ¡°At least we are unpursued this time,¡± Gregory said. ¡°Knock on wood, yeah?¡± Kate said. ¡°Not that there are little people listening,¡± Marianne said under her breath. Her eyes once again glowed, if briefly. ¡°What?¡± Kate asked Marianne. ¡°Just a phrase, is all,¡± Marianne said, sounding embarrassed. ¡°Nothing meant.¡± Kate and Gregory let Marianne¡¯s slip of tongue pass; I had no quarrel with the girl, but I had noted several curious observations that I would likely pursue in the future. However, during this current conversation, I kept silent, to avoid drawing any attention towards me in relation to the familiar situation Kate and Gregory were reminiscing about. It was likely an unnecessary precaution on my part: for while there were superficial similarities between the beast-kin named Jackie and the human girl who also had the same hair and eye color who was also named Jackie. Spells on the same order as my Guise of the Kitsune were practically unheard of. Sometimes I wondered where Emboru had received such a Grimoire. Eventually we came to a fork. The left path went upwards while the right path remained at the same elevation. ¡°Which way, you think?¡± Kate asked me. ¡°Yes, let us see this famed tracking ability in action,¡± Gregory said with sarcasm, beginning hostilities once more. I ignored his needling and explained what I was looking for, pointing at the cart ruts left in the dusty floor. ¡°Huh. Yeah, I shoulda checked that first.¡± Kate admitted. The next fork we came to had ruts following both directions, although neither went up. The left one followed a slight decline. This time, Kate attempted to make sense of the tracks similar to how I had showed her, but after she had crouched low to investigate the ground for some time, she shrugged. ¡°I got nothing,¡± she said. ¡°Jackie? You got this?¡± I took Kate¡¯s lantern from her as it was close and already lit and I shined it on the ground where the ruts met. The ruts from the left curved in and seemed to lead to the one on the right. I pointed to the right. We continued. Several times further we passed forks and side passages, although each time we were able to make a reasonable guess based on the ruts and the direction that they seemed to be headed. What seemed like hours passed. ¡°Getting close to dinner,¡± Kate said. ¡°Thinking with your stomach?¡± Marianne teased Kate. ¡°Ha! Maybe. Should I be thinking of something else?¡± Kate said, almost leering my way. Marianne blushed but looked towards me as well. I groaned for the sake of it and then avoided looking at either of them, crossing my arms. ¡°We ought to have come across someone by now, at least signs of their operations,¡± Gregory said. ¡°So eager to ¡®rob¡¯ them now?¡± Kate asked him. While she had no issue with making battle and claiming the spoils of war, she knew that Gregory was troubled by doing so, or that he had been. She enjoyed bothering him, it seemed. ¡°No, of course not,¡± Gregory denied. ¡°We are committed to this plan solely because of you, Kate. Let us not forget. But I am worried that you, and we, are being led astray. How certain are we that we have been led in the correct directions?¡± ¡°I have shown my methods at every junction,¡± I said. ¡°If we have been led astray, then it is a failing of all of ours.¡± ¡°You were the one that claimed those methods worked, to justify this alleged skill,¡± Gregory said. Kate opened her mouth to protest but I laid a hand on her shoulder to stop her. She glanced at me, confused. I gave her an apologetic shrug. ¡°Gregory¡¯s suspicions are shared by myself,¡± I said, cutting the accusation off by joining his side. ¡°I would have expected to run into someone by now as well.¡± We came to another junction. ¡°So whaddya think?¡± Kate asked, shining the lantern down at the ground. It was as I joined her that she must have realized something was off, as she said, ¡°That¡¯s not right. Can¡¯t be¡­¡± I glanced down and saw what she meant. While there were signs of previous traffic, the signs were old, much older than the previous ruts we had been following. ¡°This is unfortunate indeed,¡± I said, coming out in front of the mistake before it could pile atop me. ¡°It appears I have been misled, or that I have missed some sign. We have lost the trail. My apologies, Sir Gaurdson,¡± I said, bowing in submission to her. ¡°Pfft,¡± Kate scoffed. ¡°None of that. You did your best, and it¡¯s not like I did any better.¡± ¡°Of course she justifies the barmaid¡¯s errors. We would have been wise to have never listened to her observations to begin with,¡± Gregory said snidely. ¡°Yeah, but no. Cut that off Gregory. We lost the trail. It happens. We¡¯ll just backtrack to the last place we found it and go from there. Easy.¡± ¡°Maybe we should take a break?¡± Marianne asked, rubbing at her lower back by reaching between her pack and her spine. ¡°I know Kate¡¯s getting hungry, and I am as well. If we¡¯re going to back track, then we might as well stop here.¡± ¡°Camp sounds good,¡± Kate said, coming to the decision on behalf of all of us, although Gregory gave a half-hearted protest. ¡°Another day wasted,¡± Gregory said. ¡°We should have just stayed back where we found the ore. Could have been finished by now.¡± ¡°Hmm, yeah. Hindsight¡¯s like that. You couldn¡¯t have known,¡± Kate said, patting Gregory on the shoulder consolingly. He groaned. ¡°Might as well make camp then,¡± he said. ¡°At least we no longer need to worry about being set upon by the miners¡¯ crew.¡± ¡°Yeah, probably not. Should probably keep watch though.¡± ¡°No making out this time!¡± Marianne insisted, glancing between myself and Kate. I winced. Kate grinned. Gregory groaned, and then added ¡°The barmaid is correct in that assertion. It would be unwise to allow Kate and Jackie to distract each other.¡± ¡°Why, feeling left out?¡± Kate taunted. Gregory flinched, then shook his head. ¡°No, it would be simply unsafe.¡± ¡°How do we do this then?¡± Marianne asked. ¡°We need somebody keeping watch, right?¡± ¡°We do,¡± Gregory agreed. He then pointed at me, ¡°First watch.¡± To Marianne, ¡°Second watch.¡± And finally to Kate, ¡°And third.¡± ¡°Forgetting yourself?¡± Kate asked. ¡°No. I am exhausted from dealing with you. Tomorrow, I expect to be performing labor, regardless of what we find.¡± ¡°Yeah, alright, sure,¡± Kate said. ¡°Whatever. You¡¯ve got cooking and latrine duty then.¡± ¡°Latrine¡­ duty?¡± Marianne asked. ¡°It¡¯s when we dig holes to¨C¡± ¡°-That is unnecessary in these circumstances¨C¡± Gregory cut in with his insistence. Kate grinned back at him. ¡°But I agree to the more reasonable demands. I will take care of the camp tasks tonight and tomorrow in exchange for the watch schedule.¡± And so, it was decided. We shucked off our packs, stretched, enjoyed the freedom of motion and let the sweat cool from our backs. Later that night, I finally managed a somewhat private discussion with Marianne. She likely thought I was to interrogate her over her relations with Gregory, or about some of the inconsistencies that she must have known to have let slip. However, I thought it best to avoid alienating the girl at this time. Rather, I wanted to have more context from a discussion I had heard earlier between Kate and Gregory. It had been familiar, but I struggled to place where from, and I worried that I would stumble without adequate context. As Marianne was here and somewhat on my side, I chose to ask her. She seemed relieved when I finally posed my question. It was while she and I had gone off to attend to our necessities. As soon as Marianne and I reached a suitable distance, I finally felt at ease enough to ask a somewhat indirectly sensitive question. ¡°You wanted to know about the whole ¡®blayed¡¯ thing, right?¡± Marianne asked. I nodded. ¡°Yes. It seems familiar, but I cannot quite place it.¡± ¡°And you felt embarrassed to ask Kate about it?¡± Marianne said. ¡°With how tense the topic seemed, I wanted to avoid unintentionally worsening¨C¡± I waved my arms broadly about in a vague manner ¡°-that was.¡± ¡°Good call¡­ but in this case it might not have been that bad?¡± ¡°So you do know? I feel I am out of context in this situation.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t blame ya,¡± Marianne said. ¡°But for all that, you should probably have some context, even if it¡¯s maybe not something the Crown really shares out these days. It¡¯s a bit olden, especially in the South.¡± ¡°Is it more current elsewhere in the Middens Kingdom?¡± ¡°Yep. By the by, just assume the Middens Kingdom is everything¨Cyou¡¯ll come across more cleanly that way and the people here really don¡¯t differentiate.¡± ¡°Yes, I had noticed that. Oftentimes this Kingdom is implicitly described as the entirety of existence. I find such curious, as I have seen maps that say otherwise.¡± ¡°Ha¡­ yeah. Especially here on the border I guess. But that¡¯s not what you wanted to know about. For the dreor and blayed stuff, it¡¯s from an ancient version of the language¨Chow old, I don¡¯t know¨Cbut at least before the Shattering¡­ ¡°The exact translation is something like blood and glory. You gotta understand, the people used to be warriors, and everything was all about that. Their language reflected that and they began to think being drenched in blood was a good thing. Before the Shattering, back when they, I mean we, were still good with gods and stuff, there was supposed to be a reward for dying bloody. Stupid, I know. ¡°Now get this, the practice is largely not done, but bits remain in culture here and there. I think some theaters have bits about it?¡± ¡°Then how are you aware? Have you seen a troupe, I presume?¡± ¡°Eh¡­ up north, the warrior spirit was kept longer with the border raids ¡®n stuff. More bad blood left that culture more recent, I guess. Again though, it¡¯s dumb, and it¡¯s going outta practice.¡± ¡°I am unsure if I believe that. Afterall, if it were forgotten, then how would Gregory Silverborn, an artificer and not a combatant, know the detail well enough to quote it while in a moment of passion?¡± ¡°Yeah, not sure about that. Maybe Kate¡¯s talked about it a lot? Or Gregory¡¯s a history buff or something? I honestly wouldn¡¯t be surprised if Kate and her family got some sort of tradition built around it. They¡¯re an older line, right?¡± ¡°I suppose so,¡± I said, left with several unanswered questions of an academic nature. Courtly Dancing: Treachery: 9/9 (+1) -> Courtly Dancing: Treachery I: 1/9 ¨C Persuasive Lies: 1/9 When we returned, Kate gave a small nod towards me, and soon, all had tucked themselves into their bedrolls, with myself as the exception: I had first watch. Unfortunately, It took longer than expected for the others to fall asleep. Perhaps their circadian rhythms had been ruined by the caverns. Perhaps the environment was disquieting. Perhaps their reasons failed to matter in the slightest and they should just¡­ I caught myself clenching my teeth and relaxed myself as best I could. Growing anxious would hardly ameliorate the itch. No, to resolve that I would need to drop my Guise. Except I could hardly do so while Gregory and Kate both remained awake. Why would they bother tucking themselves in if they were to just lay there in silence? Did they think they were fooling me? I began pacing, intermittently pausing to listen to their breathing before resuming once more. I considered the risk of ¡®scouting¡¯ now, rather than when I could confirm everyone slumbered. But that would be risky, even if I could have sold my absence as scouting of some kind. I might have been able to argue the benefits of scouting if there was only one direction that we could be stumbled upon from. But at our campsite there were three, and they lacked the obvious signs I could point to for even a weak justification. This period of waiting lasted the better part of an hour. Their breathing still sounded too regular, and occasionally one of them shifted. Then, when I suspected they had finally succumbed, Kate half-snorted in her sleep, causing Gregory to start and restarting the process once more. Thankfully the second time went faster. When my watch-shift was half expired, I finally had the chance to safely put distance between myself and the camp. I departed, heading towards one of the tunnels we had been heading towards. Despite the urgency caused by the near immediacy of relief, I managed to delay my reversion until I was certain I was beyond earshot of the others. Finally, finally, my Guise dropped. I sighed in relief as my form reverted: the lessening pressure while my spine decompressed and as my hideously naked skin was buried and my face restructured itself plunging the world into a grayscale version of itself that still felt richer. The one detriment was that I kept my boots on, leaving my feet cramped, but I thought my time was too limited to bother. Instead I stretched and enjoyed, I relaxed. I was unafraid that one of the humans would sneak up on me as I would hear their clumsy footfalls long before they detected me. Even Kate. While she might have the better perception, she was heavier and tended to stride with a loud confidence. To be safe, though, I flicked my ears. I regretted that I was forced to give up my incredible sense of hearing so often. To a lesser extent, I regretted giving up on my sense of smell, less as largely humans stank. It was due to these senses that I heard them approach, though at first it was vague and distant and difficult to discern; I almost thought I was imagining it. Then came a high pitched shriek, but was animalistic in ways that a voice never was. It echoed and bounced and muddled itself that I could not be certain it was not more than a bark or a yip to begin with. Then came a chittering. It sounded far off, still echoing, but I thought it might have been approaching. Then a bark, but this time clearly defined. I had yet to have even twenty minutes to myself, and already my time was cut short. I wanted to curse and swear. But rather than swearing or otherwise dwelling on it, I began redonning my Guise as I hurried back to camp. After I had returned to my human form, I could no longer hear the animalistic calls, so they were likely far enough away that a minute¡¯s delay would not be overly terrible. I entered camp and went to Kate first. I crouched and shook her shoulder¨C A flash of steel and motion; I fell back and rolled, barely avoiding a thrusting knife. After I rolled backwards I pushed off the ground with my hands and flipped back to my feet, landing in a crouch and considered: Kate had attempted to stab me with her dagger. She must have slept with it unsheathed and ready and then lashed out by reflex. I doubt she would have stabbed me otherwise. But that reflex of hers seemed suspicious. How was anyone supposed to wake her for a watch-shift if the first thing she did was slice and stab? Very suspicious. I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes as Kate got her bearings. ¡°Huzzawhat?¡± Kate grumbled, rubbing at her eyes while still holding the dagger which led to the edge catching her hair. ¡°Jackie?¡± she asked, perceiving me without looking. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Besides the approaching under-things that were still a ways off, there was the more immediate problem, and one I could not simply let pass without voicing my dissatisfaction; for if I failed to voice this, I would likely be perceived as lesser. But how far should I take this, and in what manner? I decided for a middling approach. ¡°Several things,¡± I said, still crouched and still glaring. ¡°But first, why did you attempt to stab me? Were I anyone else, we likely would have suffered a medical emergency.¡± ¡°What?¡± Kate scoffed, extricating herself from her bedroll and beginning to stretch. She was making no attempts to keep her voice down, but nor did I. If the under-things were indeed heading our way, then they would do so, regardless of how loud our conversation was. I doubted that their senses were much worse than my true form. This may have been careless of us, but in Kate¡¯s defense, she had yet to be alerted that there were under-things approaching. Thus, Kate continued to protest loudly without consideration for the other two members of our party. ¡°Nu-huh,¡± Kate said. ¡°If I tried you woulda been stabbed. You don¡¯t look stabbed, so I must not¡¯ve tried.¡± ¡°A tautology then?¡± I said. ¡°You never attempted as you never succeeded so it must not have happened?¡± Kate made an unflattering sound. ¡°Exactly.¡± ¡°It must have been someone else that flashed a dagger across where my face had been then,¡± I mocked. ¡°We should find this perpetrator then as we are all at risk.¡± I may have laid the sarcasm on too thickly, but I felt the weight was required to actually breach Kate¡¯s skull. ¡°Well,¡± she said, visibly thinking it over. ¡°That might¡¯ve been a misunderstanding. I was just stretching when I got up, and I was holding the dagger, so probably you just overreacted. Besides, you didn¡¯t get cut, did you?¡± I rolled my eyes and decided to drop the matter, especially as we had greater concerns. ¡°A misunderstanding then,¡± I said with a nod. Of course, our conversation was loud enough to wake the others, although they took longer than I had expected for them to engage. Marianne stirred awake first. ¡°Jackie?¡± Marianne said. ¡°Why¨Cwhat time is it? Why is Kate up too? I had thought¡­¡± she trailed off, confused, likely because she had been supposed to have taken the middle shift. ¡°Oh, hey!¡± Kate said, realizing that I must have woken her for a reason. ¡°You didn¡¯t get me up just to smog, yeah? Or¡­ did you?¡± she said with a lopsided snarl of a grin. ¡°No, Kate. I did not wake you to smog,¡± I said with disgust. ¡°Gregory should wake as well. We have a problem.¡± ¡°What kind of problem?¡± Kate asked, beginning to grow excited. ¡°Did you find something? No¡­ wait¡­ you were on watch, so you probably went off and did something¡­ we really need to talk about what a shift actually entails, cause I think you¡¯re doing it wrong.¡± ¡°As if you are a paragon of responsibility,¡± I said, figuring the best defense was an accusation in this case, as she and I both knew full well that my watch shifts had been somewhat reckless. It was better to divert and aggregate others with myself when guilt was assured. ¡°But, yes. Fortunately I found them before they found us. But I do believe they are headed this way.¡± ¡°What¡¯s headed this way?¡± Kate asked, suddenly serious, though still bright eyed. ¡°How long? How many?¡± ¡°Under-things, possibly canine in nature. How many and how long? I am uncertain.¡± ¡°Under¨C¡± Marianne swallowed ¡°-things?¡± ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± Kate said, still stretching and warming up. ¡°It¡¯s about time something happens. If it¡¯s just under-things I¡¯ll be able to handle it.¡± ¡°But¨Cbut isn¡¯t there worse ones the deeper we go? We¡¯re pretty deep already,¡± Marianne said, only partially reassured by Kate¡¯s confidence. ¡°Yeah, but not really. Deep tunnels got barriers on ¡®em, so really it¡¯s only a bit worse than further up. But Jackie, you said they were canine? Not rats?¡± ¡°I heard what sounded similar to a bark, and I heard their movement. If they are rats, they are quite large.¡± ¡°Ha!¡± Kate laughed, taking command of the situation. ¡°Well, you¡¯ve seen the shit that lives down here. Deviants and alchemicals and all sorts of¡­ I don¡¯t even know. Hope it¡¯s not rats though, swarms are irksome. Might wanna pack up though, especially the sundries. Don¡¯t wanna lose those an¡¯ be forced to eat whatever¡¯s down here. ¡°But still, how long you think till they get here? Coulda let me sleep a bit longer.¡± I rolled my eyes. ¡°I am certain you would have been pleased to have woken up just as these creatures stumbled upon our camp. My apologies for my consideration.¡± Kate coughed and looked away, her eyes landing on Gregory. She gained a devious smirk. ¡°Speaking of sleeping beauties,¡± Kate said. ¡°If I can¡¯t sleep, neither can he.¡± She nudged Gregory with her foot rather aggressively, likely paying him back for when he had ¡®nudged¡¯ me. However, Gregory merely groaned, gave a lazy swat towards Kate¡¯s leg, and then rolled over, still mostly asleep. This irritated Kate. She raised her leg as though to stomp on Gregory¡¯s midsection. I might have protested, but Gregory deserved it. It may have been suboptimal and dependent on spite, but I truly disliked the boy and wished him ill. Thus, I may have encouraged Kate¡¯s behavior with silence and rapt attention. However, Marianne¡¯s heart was softer than her mind keen, leading her to interrupt Kate prior to stomping. ¡°Uh, hey¨C¡± Marianne started, bending down by Gregory and partially obstructing Kate. ¡°-shouldn¡¯t be too hard to wake him the right way. Don¡¯t wanna hurt him before a fight, right?¡± she finished nervously while beginning to shake Gregory. ¡°Ggh,¡± Gregory said, scratching the side of his mouth. ¡°Not so difficult,¡± Marianne said, pulling away from Gregory before he could protest her proximity. Gregory smacked his lips and cracked his eyes before realizing we were all up and packing our sundries in case the under-things came with a swarm of pests. Of course, this state of affairs caused him disorientiation. ¡°D-did I miss breakfast then?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°Why am I so tired still? This does not feel¨Cis something happening?¡± As he spoke, he took initiative to begin preparing for the day, wetting a rag and beginning to watch himself. Kate seemed amused by his priorities, but otherwise largely indifferent. Likely she planned on fighting everything herself, and merely bothered to wake Gregory up because she felt like it, not because she wanted his help. She waited until he was in the middle of giving himself a sponge-bath before filling him in on the situation. ¡°We¡¯re about to be attacked,¡± Kate said simply. ¡°Y¡¯know, a fight? Thought you might wanna be awake to defend yourself. But if you need to get clean and relieve yourself, maybe make tea? That¡¯s fine. Just be sure to make some for me too for after I¡¯m done.¡± ¡°Attacked?!¡± Gregory said, realizing that Kate¡¯s casual demeanor was opposed to the situation. ¡°By whom? Where? Do they have living materials, you think?¡± ¡°Oh? Do under-things normally mine and carry that sort of stuff?¡± Kate asked sarcastically, even though Gregory had yet to even learn what was attacking, but Kate must have known that. I checked her face, and noticed she had a mean smile. I wondered if the hostility from the previous day was carrying forward and souring Gregory and Kate¡¯s friendship. ¡°Under-things? Where are they then? Were those the tracks we were following?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°Jackie heard them a bit back,¡± Marianne answered as Kate seemed to be content watching Gregory flounder. ¡°Though, I¡¯m curious why we have yet to hear anything. I hadn¡¯t thought Jackie¡¯s hearing was enhanced that much¡­¡± ¡°Of course the courtesan would have enhanced hearing; better to learn rumors and secrets to hold over her betters¡­¡± Gregory said, thinking aloud. ¡°Pfft, sounds like you¡¯re jealous,¡± Kate said. ¡°But even then, I¡¯ve got good hearing too and I haven¡¯t picked ¡®em up yet. You sure they¡¯re coming?¡± she asked. I shrugged. ¡°They may have turned back, but I doubt it. Are not under-things typically aggressive?¡± ¡°Depends on how hungry they are,¡± Kate mused. ¡°How far out were you when you heard ¡®em?¡± ¡°How far out¡­ ?¡± Marianne repeated before turning her full attention upon me. ¡°What¨Cwere you off gallivanting again? That¡¯s what Kate meant earlier, wasn¡¯t it? Frosted tits!¡± Marianne swore. ¡°Jackie! That¡¯s not¨Ceven I know you¡¯re supposed to stay near the camp¡­ if you run off, then what if we¡¯re attacked while you¡¯re gone and we¡¯re sleeping?¡± ¡°Agreed,¡± Gregory said, ire in his voice. He seemed satisfied that he now had a target. ¡°One would wonder what the point of keeping watch is at all if one fails to actually keep watch. It leaves the rest of us at risk. How do you account for this, barmaid?¡± ¡°Did you two become friends or something?¡± Kate asked, referring to Gregory and Marianne, likely prompted by the fact that he had agreed with Marianne. ¡°I didn¡¯t know she was your type, or that she could put up with your¨C¡± she nodded at Gregory ¡°-you-ness.¡± Marianne blushed and looked at the ground. Gregory scoffed. ¡°As if I would denigrate myself. But if a pauper has a proper idea, then why can I not agree?¡± However, this shifted the discussion away from my own mis-deeds, and I intended to seize upon it. ¡°How have I failed to see this until now?¡± I asked, faking a scandalized tone. ¡°They have been expressing signs of infatuation. Did we not just witness Marianne engaging Gregory with intimacy as she spared him from your boot?¡± I referred to when Marianne had woken Gregory, obviously misconstrued to further deflect the conversation. ¡°What?!¡± Gregory demanded, then glaring at Marianne. ¡°Did you take liberties while I slept?!¡± It was interesting that he completely ignored the fact that Kate had been willing to stomp on him while he slept. Perhaps he had not realized the danger Marianne had saved him from, and instead fixated upon Marianne. It was easier to ¡®punch down,¡¯ as the crass would say. ¡°No!¡± Marianne sputtered. ¡°Of course not! Why would I¨C¡± she sent an irritated glare my way ¡°-I don¡¯t even favor boys. That would be disgusting. I¡¯m sorry Gregory, but no. Not my type.¡± ¡°Nonsense,¡± Gregory spat. ¡°Likely story you would claim that. Likely you wish to take advantage of the Silverborns! No use denying it¨C¡± ¡°-Yeah, but no,¡± Kate cut in. ¡°This is dumb. The whole thing.¡± She shut down the entire discussion, likely saving Gregory from making a fool of himself and saving the amicable relations between Marianne, Kate, and I. Besides, Kate was correct. There were better ways to spend our time with potential enemies approaching. ¡°It¡¯s like this. Jackie took watch. She went to scout, probably cause standing around is lame. And it¡¯s a good thing she did, cause she detected the under-things while they¡¯re still a ways off. She came back, woke me up, since obviously I¡¯m gonna fight ¡®em. Then you two woke up¨C¡± she pointed at Marianne and Gregory ¡°-to break camp while I get ready to fight. But then you guys start arguing about the dumbest things.¡± ¡°-hey!¡± Gregory tried to protest, but Kate continued on without paus. ¡°And now we¡¯ve got actual things to focus on. So hop to it¨C¡± she clapped her hands ¡°-get packing. Seriously.¡± Kate then focused on me. ¡°How far out did you go before you detected them?¡± This question forced me to make an educated guess. As I had dropped my Guise when I had first heard them, my hearing had been incredibly enhanced, allowing me to hear further than I could with the Guise up. This difference in hearing equated to a certain distance, which I had to estimate and then add in the actual true distance that I had actually traveled. Of course, without knowing how far sound traveled in the tunnels or how loud the actual source of the noise was, my guess was likely inaccurate. Likely the effort was unnecessary. Better safe than sorry, in the instance where Kate somehow decided to fact-check my story. ¡°No more than a mile,¡± I said with caution. ¡°But I am uncertain.¡± ¡°That far?!¡± Kate said, sounding surprised. ¡°What if you got lost, or got jumped? I wouldn¡¯t have been there¨C¡± ¡°-Kate,¡± I interrupted her. ¡°You are aware of my capabilities. You have seen me defend myself, along with the results. There should be no cause for concern here.¡± ¡°Yeah, but¡­ if something did happen to you, we¡¯d have no idea where you went or were. See where I¡¯m coming from here? Buddy systems exist for a reason.¡± I frowned at Kate and was forced to concede that she was correct. I had put myself and the party in somewhat of a precarious situation in that regard. ¡°I dislike it when you make well-reasoned arguments,¡± I said with an artificial pout. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m not liking making those either,¡± Kate said. ¡°Better to flex arguments into submission.¡± She made a show of flexing her biceps and winking at me. Several minutes passed as we packed our backs and readied our weapons to defend ourselves, Kate¡¯s short sword was out and Gregory had his arc-bow slotted with a fresh Charger. Marianne lacked any weapons, but she held Gregory¡¯s lamp. I considered using my battle-ribbon, but thought it best to avoid using a weapon that required so much space and maneuverability. Instead I had my knife out and my false-arm ready. As these minutes passed, Gregory began to express doubts that enemies were coming, while Marianne hoped that the under-things had turned away. Kate was growing bored and was just proposing that we head out towards where I had heard the under-things coming from, when the under-things were once more heard. Of course, I picked up on the approaching creatures first. My hearing was still enhanced compared to the likes of Gregory and Marianne. ¡°-I hear them approaching now,¡± I said, cutting into Gregory¡¯s inane complaints. ¡°-Bout time!¡± Kate said. ¡°-W-where?¡± Marianne asked, turning her lantern quickly from each of the three passages leading away from our camp. Taking mercy on Marianne, I pointed the passage to her. No surprise the beasts approached from the tunnel I had first scouted. Forty seconds passed. While I heard the beasts slowly growing louder as they approached, the others had yet to notice anything. Eventually, Kate commented. ¡°Just how good is your hearing, Jackie?¡± Kate asked. ¡°I mean, there¡¯s enhanced, and then there¡¯s this. Makes a gal wonder, y¡¯know?¡± I grimaced but refrained from commenting, lest I reveal more than I had intended. Before Kate could bother me further, Gregory responded with an acidic retort. ¡°Is this really the time to be asking that?¡± Gregory said. ¡°Now, shine the lantern I lent you on its greatest setting,¡± he commanded Marianne. Marianne obliged, finding the knob on the side of the lantern and boosted the intensity. A stream of light shined deep into the passage, until it curved upwards to the left. ¡°Be warned,¡± he said. ¡°This will not last longer than five minutes,¡± he explained. ¡°There they are,¡± Kate said, more to herself than anyone else. She had finally heard them approach. ¡°Don¡¯t sound that bad. Bet they don¡¯t last a minute.¡± Marianne chewed her chapped lips before asking, ¡°M-maybe not the best time¡­ Uhm, but, but what are under-things, exactly?¡± As she lit her lantern, her eyes almost seemed to glow blue, although that must have been a trick of the light. ¡°Might as well chat,¡± Kate said. ¡°No harm in it. But to answer that, under-things can be anything.¡± Gregory rolled his eyes and huffed. ¡°That is both true and useless. She likely desires specifics.¡± Marianne nodded, if slightly. ¡°Have at it, loverboy,¡± Kate said, grinning mockingly at him. He glared at her but answered all the same. ¡°Under-things are almost always deformed beasts, deposited by the Firmament. There is a degree of randomness, but always hostile. Typically they are no worse than a mangy oversized rat. But there is an immense amount of variability.¡± ¡°And these?¡± Marianne asked, flinching as one of the under-things barked in the distance. ¡°Maybe hundeor?¡± Gregory said with a shrug. ¡°Regardless, Kate is correct. They will prove no match for us.¡± The barks and snarling yips increased in volume, along with the sound of talons clicking on stone, frequent enough to remind me of the Infested of the Mucary, although from my false-arms lack of reaction, I thought the similarity merely a coincidence. There was a snap followed by a whimper, then the first under-thing stepped into the illuminated passage, limping on a hindleg with its tail tucked and its ears flattened. After it entered the light, it paused, snarling with foam dripping from its maw. When it deemed it safe, it glanced behind itself, where it was ushered on by another beast¡¯s growls. The first began approaching, if slowly. Seconds later, another beast came around the corner, again freezing upon entering the illumination. This one appeared larger, though just as gaunt. Its tail was less tucked, but its ears just as flat. It had a sparse reverse-brindle coat, less fur than not. Then another came around the corner, with no signs of it being the last one. ¡°Wolves?¡± Marianne said under her breath. While I recognized the word, it was not from the human tongue, nor the Kaivan, nor any other I had learned since arriving in this forsaken world. ¡°Worgs?¡± Kate asked. ¡°No, that¡¯s not it. What¡¯d ya call ¡®em, wolves?¡± ¡°Nevermind it,¡± Marianne said, suddenly shy. ¡°They just reminded me of something. Probably whatever you call worgs.¡± I found it strange that Kate seemed to not realize what Marianne was talking about, but then I remembered the dearth of wildlife I had seen in the wastes, and considered that wolves and dogs may have been extinct, at least locally. Also, I had yet to hear anything of ¡®worgs.¡¯ ¡°Worgs are like Hundeor, but quadrupeds,¡± Kate explained. ¡°Usually bigger too.¡± Another beast came around, followed by another, the largest one yet, coming to the height of my waist. There were five of these mangy and rabid dog-like creatures. Kate took a position in front of us, light on the balls of her feet. Before the beasts made it more than halfway to us, Kate thought of one more thing. ¡°Hey Gregory?¡± Kate called out behind her, though she never let her attention off the beasts. ¡°Don¡¯t shoot me in the back.¡± ¡°I will strive to avoid doing so,¡± Gregory said, his voice less shaky as he went and ending in a droll tone. As the beasts came near, I caught scent of them, acerbic and musky and covered in the stench of waste and rotten flesh. Their gums were blistered and oozing and none of them had a full set of teeth, though they had fang enough to bite. It was then that the rearmost beast growl-snarled into a bark. The leading beast flinched at that, hesitated a second, lowered itself, then bounded forward in a reckless suicidal charge. It leapt, not directly at Kate, but slightly to her side. The tactic made no difference. Her sword flashed out with a reverse chop, opening the beast just behind its forelimb, causing the beast to yelp and lose control of its trajectory. When it landed it crumpled and slid. The second beast leapt just after the first left the ground. While conserving momentum Kate performed an unnecessary twisting flair before chopping once more, this time opening the side of the beast¡¯s neck. The beasts must have had some modicum of intelligence, as instead of lining up to perish, one by one, they nearly all leapt at once, with not even a heartbeat between each of their attacks. The third beast soared past Kate as she dealt with the second. It was the third that first entered our ranks. Marianne whimpered and backed away. Gregory aimed his arc-bow with partially shaking hands. I was momentarily blinded by a bright actinic pink flash. The scent of burnt flesh came next. As I heard no patter of paws and smelled it cooking, nor were their any pained shouts from my party, I assumed that the third beast had fallen. It was while I was blinking my eyes to regain my vision that the fourth beast landed straight on Kate¡¯s blade, impaled to the hilt through its chest, blade locked in bone, at least temporarily. I lacked the time to even consider how Kate had allowed this to happen. It was sloppy. Incredibly so. She knew better than to leave herself exposed in such a way. As I was trying to understand what game Kate was playing, the fifth beast, the largest of them, slammed down atop Kate, taking her to the ground. She rolled backwards, almost succeeded in throwing the beast off with its own momentum, but its jaws clamped around her off arm, on her wrist. How this had occurred I was unsure. Something within me snapped. I could not understand what it was, nor why it did. For all the time I had known Kate, she had been invincible, untouchable¡­ as well as an incorrigible flirt, not that the flirtatious part had anything to do with whatever unidentified high-tension string-like thing snapping. What I did know was that the thought of this mongrel harming Kate seemed instantly loathsome and intolerable in all the worst ways. I acted before my false-arm decided to resolve the problem. The fact that I had better tools to safely remove the creature failed to cross my mind. I acted the fool in a shameful fashion. ¡°Kate!¡± I screamed. I dived into the mess, narrowly avoiding the tip of her sword poking through the back of the fourth beast. I tackled the fifth, knocking its jaws loose from Kate. It snarled, snapped at me but found my false arm in its jaws instead of anything I cared for. In the meantime, I jabbed my knife in through its shoulder, above its clavicle equivalent and into its thoracic chamber. I withdrew and jabbed, over and over, the knife eventually turning in my hand and only cutting shallowly, more of a cheap shiv than a sharpened kbar knife. Eschiver I: 4/9 (+1) It would not have been enough. Its jaws were too close. It had spat my false-arm from its mouth and could have easily clamped them about my throat instead, or anything else. Its claws were an entity I had failed to consider as well. But as Kate shouted, a mix of anger and perhaps fear, another actinic pink flash blinded me. Heat washed over my cheek, then floated up and caught me as speckles of hot flesh hit me. The creature yelped into a whimper, it thrashed into stillness. From somewhere behind me, there was another pop, another yelp, and then silence. No more talons scampering, nor labored wheezes. The last of the creatures had been neutralized. I remained down where I was, far to near the stench of the both partially cooked and rotten flesh. I needed to take stock. I tried to understand why I had acted so foolishly. I tried to discern why my false-arm had allowed me to engage in such a risky endeavor without aiding me. But these answers were not forthcoming. I may have been in some form of shock, in hindsight, as I failed to even realize when Kate helped me up to my feet, her calloused hands clasped about me. Kate held me by her side. Already she had patted me down, not even bothering to steal a grope. When she was satisfied, she spat on the fifth beast. ¡°So¡­¡± Kate said, glancing down at my gore-smattered knife and hand. ¡°A knife, huh? Thought you were using the battle-ribbon, but maybe not? Guess it¡¯s a bit unwieldy, but wow. You stabbed it pretty good, yeah?¡± I winced at the reminder of my own folly. ¡°This might not have been my finest moment,¡± I confessed. ¡°Ha!¡± Kate laughed. ¡°Well I wouldn¡¯t know about that. You came out on top, but, y¡¯know¡­¡± ¡°The battle-ribbon, or I suppose Urumi, would not have been appropriate in this fight.¡± ¡°I mean, there¡¯re other weapons?¡± ¡°Such as a knife?¡± ¡°Besides that,¡± she said, amused I would even consider what could have been cutlery as a weapon. ¡°I had expected you to deal with them before I had the chance to engage,¡± I said. ¡°Yeah¡­ Guess that¡¯s fair.¡± After the brief battle, Gregory reclaimed his lantern and returned it to the default setting. Marianne and Gregory went about moving their supplies, debating if we should travel now, or take a moment to decompress with perhaps hot-toddies or just plain tea. Kate and I had already packed though, and she amused herself by prodding the largest of the dead beasts with her sword. ¡°Are you seeking out its heart?¡± I asked her. She laughed and shrugged, ¡°Maybe. See how big it is, or if it¡¯s rotted or something.¡± Personally, I was unsure of how she stomached to be so near the foul thing, but I also understood that she found entertainment in the odder venues. It was as I observed her that I noticed her cock her head and lean in further, releasing her sword and reaching her hand into its chest. ¡°Kate!¡± I said, hoping to snap her out of this unusual level of perversion, even for her. ¡°Hold on, I think I found something.¡± ¡°But¨C¡± I started, before I was cut off by her shout as she held something aloft in her gore and gristle covered fingers. I thought there may have been a few veins trailing down the side of her wrists, but I was unsure. ¡°Check it out,¡± she said, holding it out for me to inspect. And while it was discolored from being inside the creature, it had plenty of hard angles and was solid in a way that not even bone could claim. ¡°-What¨C?¡± I asked, unsure of why a possible gem had been lodged within the creature¡¯s chest, not even its stomach. By this point, our commotion had drawn both Gregory and Marianne over to also inspect this oddity. It seemed that Gregory recognized what it might have been while Kate cleaned the stone off with a rag. It was definitely a gem of some kind. It even contained its own luminescence, which challenged a lot of what I knew regarding biology. ¡°That,¡± Gregory said, peering even closer at the object in Kate¡¯s hands than anyone else. Gregory¡¯s face went through a range of expressions, before he shook himself and back up. ¡°No, that¡¯s impossible. That cannot just be there. Kate, what trick are you attempting to play? This meanspirited plow will not work, I guarantee it. This is crass, even for you.¡± ¡°Yeah, but no. I don¡¯t even know what this thing is. It was hanging out in the big one. Bet you could find more of ¡®em in the other under-things too.¡± ¡°Please. You expect me to carve through these? Is this your ploy then?¡± ¡°What is it?¡± Marianne asked. ¡°That¡¯s the same thing that goes into Chargers, right?¡± ¡°If it is what I think it is? Yes. Dungeon Stone, or Spirit Stone, I suppose. The problem is that only Marked Cities produce it, and that is out of specialized subterranean facilities. Most certainly not some random cave beneath some unmarked place such as Southbridge. Even owning such a stone, raw and uncut, I think is in violation of the Crown¡¯s remit. It begs the question how Kate has such a thing in her possession.¡± ¡°And I¡¯m telling you, I found it in there!¡± Kate snapped, growing irritated that she was not being believed. When she glanced my way, I felt compelled to agree. ¡°Kate is correct. I saw her pull that Spirit Stone, is it? She pulled it from the beast¡¯s chest. Should you doubt her still, you are more than welcome to verify with the other beasts, as she mentioned. I doubt the only stone would so happen to be contained within the beast she checked.¡± It was then that I noticed another sound, approaching from the same passage that the beasts had emerged from. Again, it sounded of beasts, though more of a pitter-patter and less of anything else. ¡°There are more beasts approaching from the same direction,¡± I said, regardless of the futile protest that Gregory was making regarding what he expected and what Kate had found. ¡°M-more?!¡± Marianne said. ¡°Indeed,¡± I said. ¡°You should be able to hear them soon. I was unable to detect them as early as I could thanks to our current volume of¡­ discussion,¡± I finished, settling on a rather charitable term. ¡°You think they¡¯ll have more of these?¡± Kate asked, waving the Spirit Stone. I shrugged. ¡°Perhaps?¡± ¡°How much you think these are worth, Gregory?¡± Kate asked. ¡°Considering possession is very likely a hangable offense?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°Priceless.¡± ¡°Nice,¡± Kate said. ¡°Alright, new plan. Jackie, you¡¯re with me. Let¡¯s go see what these next ones are like.¡± ¡°Unbelievable,¡± Gregory said, making the word sound like a curse. ¡°Aw, lighten up!¡± Kate said, grinning with menace. ¡°Who knows? Bet we could get a reward from Princess Marissa for bringing this to her. Probably get the good stuff. What¡¯re they called, Imperial Sigils?¡± ¡°That would be incredibly shortsighted for so many reasons,¡± Gregory protested. ¡°You know the limitations those sigils carry with them. Since when were you willing to shackle yourself with such heavy commitments?¡± ¡°Ha, yeah, I know,¡± Kate said. ¡°But it¡¯s fun to think about, right? Anyways,¡± she slapped me on the back, or more appropriately my backpack which I had just strapped on. ¡°Let¡¯s get to hunting!¡± She then began jogging off into the mostly dark tunnel, her only source of illumination a glowstone about her belt. Before she disappeared, I glanced back at Marianne who was frowning nervously at the tunnel, then at me, and finally at Gregory. The indecisiveness was painful to see. But I could hardly allow Kate to run off on her own¨Cshould she go missing, there was a likely chance we would all suffer dire fates upon our return. Additionally, Gregory¡¯s presence put me in a foul mood. So, with my own mind made up, I said to Marianne, ¡°If we hit a fork, I will either wait for you or draw an arrow.¡± I proceeded to jog after Kate, into the darkness myself. Afterall, if I were not there alongside her, then there was no telling what manner of problems she might find herself facing. Trackless Tracks I: 7/9 (+1) Symbiotic Parasite (aka false-arm) 4.3 Tendrils, approximately 1.5 yards in length, unspooled. Talents:
    • Athleticism I (3/9):
      • Climbing I (5/9)
        • Featherlight I (5/9) (+1)
        • Inversion (2/9)
      • Gymnastics (5/9)
    • Stealth II (2/9)
      • Trackless Tracks I (7/9) (+1)
        • Area Coverage (7/9) (+1)
      • Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
      • Unnatural Concealment: (2/9)
    • Eschiver I (4/9) (+1)
      • Evasion I (3/9)
        • Impending Sense (6/9)
      • Lucky Break I (3/9)
        • Chance Encounter (5/9)
    • Courtly Dancing: Treachery I (1/9) (+2)
      • Flexibility I (1/9)
  • Persuasive Lies (1/9)
Spells:
  • Illusion I (8/9)
    • Touch (8/9)
  • Guise of the Kitsune I (2/9)
    • Malleable Form: 3/9
  • Passive Enervation: (3/9)
Gifts:
  • Obsession (5/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Absorption 2.6.6.X.1 Absorption 2.6.6.X.1 The insult struck the Court and the Peers cried out. Never before had the Court received such an insult, just as never before had many of the Peers experienced the pain of having a piece of them sealed away and trapped in place. For it was the Court''s nature to always flow through the immaterial between. As They went, Peers would open facets in new realms as they withdrew facets from others. This was necessary as realms shifted in position over time. A Peer could only stretch so far. The insult arrived from one such realm, a realm where the Court and its Peers had facets of themselves, the mortals had somehow sealed these facets, trapped them, locked them, and through them chained the Peers in place. It was an injury and insult both. How the mortals achieved this was unknown to the Court; but many of the Peers were greatly affected by this restriction; this was the first time many Peers experienced pain. When it came to deciding the response, the Court required no debate on whether to act or not They should act to remove the seal; no, the Court required debate on the best mechanism to achieve such a removal. Unfortunately for the Court, They lacked the knowledge and insight to achieve freedom. However, there was one Peer within the Court that had experience and knowledge both on the intricacies of being entrapped and sealed away, although the exact details differed. This Peer with some knowledge on the matter would not be a Peer that the many of the Court would ever feel comfort in requesting aid from. This Peer had developed an unsavory reputation in behavior, although on the surface the Peer appeared nothing if not both kind and beautiful. The issue was in this Peer¡¯s conceptual identity. This Peer could not help who this Peer was. The same was true of all the Court. The Court reached out to this Peer for aid. This Peer who was known for unsavory conduct. This Peer who had been held distant and was largely unwelcome. This Peer, a female despite a lack of biology, was the embodiment of feminine beauty. She had been likened to honeyed poison on more than one occasion. This was who the Court requested advice from. And unsavory advice, she gave. The Court accepted what She suggested as the Court had little other recourse. And thus, all the Court began searching between the realms for that which they needed to follow Her plan. They needed to find souls which resonated with Themselves in conceptual identity. These souls needed to be hale enough to survive the ardours of empowerment and insertion. These souls became champions of the Peer which selected them. These souls were invested in by the Peers with Their very essence, motes of power, motes bled from Peer to soul, motes making themselves known through sacred designs, motes which mortals took note of, studied, and somewhat replicated with stolen power, motes that made the champion known by deed and act and called by the mortals godsmarked. These champions were sent into the entrapping realm to seek out a means to disrupt and break the seal. Initially, many of these souls rose to great heights, at least initially. Despite this initial success, these champions failed to achieve anything meaningful to the Court, as the seals remained unbroken, and the Court remained entrapped and sealed. The Court continued on despite these middling results. An era passed and the Peers continued to bleed, motes of power passing from Peer to new souls. An era passed, and still, the Court remained sealed to this realm. During these eras, all but two of the Peers had invested themselves into a champion. The one Peer who recommended this course of action, She refrained. Her nearest neighboring Peer also refrained, after She recommended this to Him. During these eras, the Court continued to weaken. During these eras, She continued to bide her time, watching, waiting, plotting. For while the Court only sought freedom from the realm, She sought something more. No, She needed more, Her nature required it. Simple freedom could never satisfy Her, not after the insult, not after the slight. Thus, She plotted, and from these plots, She and Her neighbor withheld Their strength, saving Their strength for the next act. And as the neighboring Peer was nearest to Her, He followed Her suggestions. For they were far more than just neighbors. He and Her were nearest in nature, both held pariahs to the Court. He and She were not friends, for those such as Them could not bond. Despite this, Their existence had been bound and twined together, two stalks interweaving through eternity. As such, They were close. As such, He heeded Her suggestions. For as the Court railed against the realm that dared to bind Them, She had seen what all else had missed: Each mote bled, each mote invested, each mote entering the realm, all these motes, they added weight against the fabric of the lands and its people, straining the threads holding all together. Perhaps this strained fabric would eventually shatter beneath the weight of these motes. Perhaps the investment of the Peers would flavor the fabric and one day return to the Peer, strengthening the investors by ten-fold. But merely waiting for the realm¡¯s eventual destruction, waiting for justice served, waiting for time to heal opened and festering wounds¡­ this opposed Her nature. No. Her nature was one of vengeance, of a beautiful flower, stolen for pleasure, consumed by the lust and greed of the powers that be¡­ the foolish who willingly imbibed from a sweet nectar laden in virulent poison. Thus, Her nature plotted and planned a violent conclusion, orchestrating mortals and Peers alike, coiling as a viper, weaving as a spider, waiting for a trap to spring. As the realm continued and time therein passed, the Court waned in resolve. The Court¡¯s Peers had realized that each mote bled lessened the Peer while obtaining nought but a dubious future award. Gradually, the Peers ceased their investments, forgetting the insult, growing inured to the pain of having facets sealed. As the Court waned, the realm began stabilizing, the threads of the mortals intertwining with the tapestry, weaving what was invested with what had existed previously, spending their small lives and spirits and souls to reinforce the fabric. She found this intolerable, for it threatened all which She did plot. To remove this threat, She parlayed the Peers, She addressed the Court, She bade Them to find Their courage. She reminded Them the insult. This worked, to some success. It perhaps would have worked better had She shared Her plot, should She take her Peers as confidants. But secrecy was in Her nature, for who imbibed poison knowingly? Some Peers heeded Her. Some continued to willingly bleed. But this was not enough to prevent the realm from healing. Seeing this, She turned to Her nearest neighbor. She made Her case to Him. He knew Her nature. He knew She came with sweet and poisoned words. But even knowing this, He still followed Her will. For He knew Her. This was not trust, as They could never trust, not as others might. But the effects were the same. He knew Her actions would profit Him. Afterall, it was in Their nature. Hers was Poison; His was Death. Hers with Treachery; His with Inevitability. Hers lured with Heaven; His followed the Hell. And so, while She sought a perfect soul for a perfect moment to serve as Her champion, He obeyed Her desires and He began His instructed work. He was not picky in his work. He never was. He accepted all, as was His nature. Any soul He came across received His mote and mark. These souls, He delivered unto the realm to consume and be consumed; Each champion, regardless of their action, would serve to dye the realm¡¯s tapestry with His essence. His essence was heavier than most. For, while some would claim that Death came as light as a feather¡­ ¡­it was only light when the soul was allowed to depart. The realm¡¯s fabric grew heavy, the seams of the tapestry stretched and tore, revealing the few threads anchoring the pieces together. So stretched and so laden with Death, the realm would not require much more abuse to break completely. But Death was still only a Peer, one of many, and even Peers could bleed themselves dry. As He bled, He exhausted Himself. He lost His agency first, leaving a bare concept and not much more. This was as near to slumber or death as a Peer could come. But She had accounted for this possibility. While He lost his wits and guile, She had enough to spare. She began guiding His actions more directly, guiding His hands with Her own. Over time, this overspent Death; He soon lost all until all He could afford was a single mote further. Rather than spend His last and final mote, She held back. She had yet to find a suitable candidate to bear Her mark. She still sought after a perfect soul. Time passed, but without His continued divestiture of Himself, the realm began healing once more. She loathed that the realm was healing. She hated that if the realm healed, then all He had spent would never be returned. She considered just selecting an inferior soul to empower. She dared not let Her neighbor a permanent slumber. She dared not let an insult against Her to pass. She hated being forced to choose such as this. She redoubled her search, finding a great many inferior souls, but none were worthy of Her gifts. She lamented Her choices. She raged impotently, thrashing all Her facets which had not been sealed. These facets shook many realms and caused many threads to snap. In Her wake, there was madness. In Her wake, there was death. It was one such death, one particular snarl of insanity and madness, which caught Her attention, where She found trace evidence of what she sought. For in one of these realms, the suffering and tortured agony had coalesced and hardened into an uncut gemstone of great luminosity. She followed the trails that this gemstone had left as it struggled for a final rest that would never come. The soul was wounding itself, bleeding itself of that which made it wondrous, causing damage to Her future treasure. She hastened after the soul, gathering the bits the soul had cast off as it searched for peace in nepenthe. The more that She collected as She went, the more delirious She grew. She could not help but savor these cast-off bits which She was collecting¡­ ** Before Your eighth year, You had tasted true despair. That was all that You could taste immediately after Your ill-fated attempted escape. You regretted this foolish attempt greatly. Your Mother made these lessons known. Mother took many efforts for many months to rectify the gaps You had revealed within Your own bearing and skill. You believe that Mother revels in teaching You these things. Thinking of Mother makes You sick with disgust and hate. You have no recourse for these feelings. Acting upon these feelings results in pain and humiliation and a redoubling of remedial lessons. To Your embarrassment, despite Your hate, these lessons bear fruit. You learn the proper mode of speech. When You suggest that You were being taught a dialect both antiquated or anachronistic, You are punished. Mother insists that etiquette and good manners will never be antiquated. Mother also finds offense in Your implication that Mother is old. Some may mistake that accusation as a joke, but Mother punishes you all the same. Over time, frome these lessons, You develop the habits required to always be aware of Your surroundings, as the penalty for missing a hidden threat ranged from a painful pinch to hours of dark and cramped confinement. You gained the skills to subvert expectations, to infiltrate through means of social manipulation. And these were the softer of the lessons You are taught. During this period of remedial education, Mother prohibits You from leaving the compound. This is a rural compound where Mother houses inventory and helpers. Often, Mother complains of the help¡¯s overhead in cost and food. But Mother also claims that delegation is critical for a successful entrepreneur, especially as if Mother performs every task, then Mother would have little time to spend with You. You would prefer Mother performs the tasks instead. You refrain from informing Mother of Your opinion. Over the span of a year, Your disgust and hate fade. Intellectually You still despise Mother, but no longer does Your stomach churn at the sound of Mother¡¯s voice. Mother notices this, the lessening in visceral hate. One day soon after, Mother offers You an opportunity to both redeem Yourself and gain a great boon. Mother offers You the chance to gain a sister. While You reserved doubts, Mother explains that this is for Your best interest along with the best interest of Your future sister. Mother shares what she found on this future sister, a girl who has found herself in a rather hostile environment and who requires salvation by Your hand and efforts. Mother asks if You are selfish enough to leave Your sister to continue fending for herself in an abusive home. Mother asks if Your training was in vain. This persuades You. But Mother has several more lessons to teach, these ones easier than social engineering. She teaches You to use lockpicks and to disable security systems. She provides a floorplan and a map of a gated community in a wealthy suburb near a tech-giant. Mother says it is time. Deep inside, You know that what You plan to do is wrong. You go along with Mother¡¯s plans anyways. In the future, You will regret this moment. You arrive at the neighborhood and You walk through the pedestrian access, waving to the security booth where a guard watches. By Your mannerisms, the guard assumes that You know him. You are dressed for the part. With Your white and blue frilly dress, Your white stockings and penny-loafers, with Your hair tied in ribbons and pigtails, You make quite the sight of naive and pampered youth. A small girl who is out and about without a guardian. The neighborhood is well-off, but this near the city any decent sort of person will have concerns for a small child left unaccompanied. This is your ruse. The security guard hurries from the booth to reach you. The booth is now unmanned. The guard expresses his concerns when he reaches you. He politely requests for Your parents. Nearby, Mother and her hired help are waiting in a borrowed luxury sedan with tinted windows. The sedan¡¯s owner is still alive, You think. The guard continues with his soft questions. You purse your lips cutely and tap Your chin in thought. You explain that Your parents are visiting a friend, but that you had gone for a walk and had gotten lost, but that You were unsure as to where this house actually was. The guard expresses discomfort at the idea of letting a small child wander the neighborhood without supervision. This seems to be an impasse until he has an idea. He asks if You might recognize Your parent''s car if You saw it on the side of the street. You nod tentatively as still thinking upon his question. He smiles down at You and tells You he has a plan. He will escort You around the neighborhood until You spot Your parent¡¯s car. You smile up at him. He leads You to a golf-cart and helps you to hop in. You giggle as he takes off, driving through the neighborhood. At some point, You both approach a certain house where a certain girl is home-alone. Her parents are at an expo delivering an all-day demo. This is to be Your stop. You point at a vehicle parked on the street nearby and give the guard another bright smile. He seems to be ready to escort You to the front door, likely intent to speak with Your parents. This would be both reasonable and expected of him. Mother foresaw this occurring. It is then that his pager buzzes. Someone is requesting his aid at the security gate. He seems uncertain. You smile even more sweetly. His phone rings. He picks up. You overhear a familiar and expectant voice. He gives You an apologetic smile and helps You out of the cart. You wave and he departs, driving back towards the gate. You already know that He will find the gate bereft of a queue. As soon as he leaves Your field of view, You skp down the sidewalk, past the vehicle You had pointed out, until You arrive at the house. Other than a peripheral glance, You have no need to appear shifty by checking that the surroundings are clear. You continue up the front-steps and pause at the door. From Your purse You remove a set of lockpicks given to You by Mother. You slip the torque in and apply pressure to the lock before fumbling against the lock¡¯s pins with a pick. It takes several tries and over a minute, but eventually the lock twists. You repeated the process with the deadbolt, though this takes twice as long as the first. During this time, a car had driven past, but You are not overly concerned at the prospect of being spotted. You would have seemed as though You were merely unlocking the door with a key and nothing more. The door opens. You enter and gently shut the door behind you. You listen for movement, for signs that anyone has realized You are there. There is music playing upstairs in a closed bedroom. It seems You remain undetected. You tread upon soft feet down one hallway, turn through another, enter a kitchen, a pantry, and then finally reach a security panel. It is beeping every three seconds. You insert a code, the birthday of Your future sister. The beeping stops. You head back to the front door and open it once more. You poke Your head outside and You wave at a luxury sedan driving by at a snail''s pace. You head back inside, leaving the door open behind You, and You head upstairs to the bedroom where the music is playing from. You knock softly on the door. The music pauses from inside. A young girl¡¯s voice questions You from within, assuming You are somebody else. You answer with yet another knock. You hear heavy footsteps from just inside the front door on the floor below. You hear lighter footsteps moving across the bedroom before you. The bedroom door opens. Confusion shows upon her face and she opens her lips to ask a question. You give a disarming smile and reach for her hand, slow enough to avoid startling her, fast enough to avoid giving her a chance to react. Your fingers intertwined with hers. Her phone rests on a desk, well out of reach. You greet Your future sister and hope You come across as welcoming and endearing. Heavy footsteps have finished climbing the stairs and arrive just besides You. Your sister¡¯s eyes widen. You are pushed aside. A gloved hand clamps around Your sister¡¯s mouth. She thrashes. She kicks You by mistake. It stings but You have endured worse. You forgive her for kicking You just as You hope she will forgive You. The seasons changed. Your sister continues to have difficulties; Mother remains hopeful that she will come around. Mother has plans for Your sister, big plans. Every effort will be worthwhile, but Mother wonders if You are failing in forming a sense of camaraderie. If Your sister continues to have difficulties, Mother may consider alternative measures. Another season passes. Your sister still struggles to find her place. She tests Mother¡¯s patience. Mother decides that Your sister is being held back by the memories of her previous life, prior to joining You and Mother. Mother renames Your sister; the given name is ornate and flowery; Mother permits the name to be shortened to ¡®Trix.¡¯ You find the name beautiful. Trix does not. In fact, Trix hates her new name, but Mother has decided, that is that. Trix tries convincing You to call her by something else when Mother is in another room. You point out that Mother always seems to know everything and You are uncomfortable with Trix¡¯s plan. Trix claims that Mother¡¯s spying could be circumvented and that all Trix needs to do this was a little help. She also thought it might be possible to send a message out to the world beyond the compound. The idea of trying this leaves Your skin prickling in a cold sweat. You worry for Trix¡¯s fate should she fail to submit. If not for Trix¡¯s skillset, You think she would have already been removed by Mother. Given Trix¡¯s age, it may be less of a skill set than a form of inherited ability, You are unsure. Either by nature or nurture, Trix is a prodigy in the realms of science and technology, constantly inventing new toys from scrap, though her specialty seemed to lay in software. She very much desired a better computer and an open connection to the net. She has neither. Her computer is slow and the internet is limited to a local system. Another season passes. Trix is growing resentful, but it is a sullen expression, an almost bitter acceptance. Mother has grown ever more persuasive. It seems Trix is coming around. She has even begun showing off some of the mechanized creations from her bench. The days are growing brighter and You finally feel as though Trix is a sister in truth and not just name. After one of the better days, one where Trix had created and flown a drone with a remote video feed, a visitor arrived at the compound in a chauffeured luxury vehicle. It seemed strange. Both Yours and Trix¡¯s curiosity is raised. Before You can find out more, Mother requests that You and Trix to freshen up. Mother then goes to greet whoever came to visit. With how Mother is wringing her hands, she seems nervous. Anything that can cause Mother such anxiety cannot be anything good. Not long after, the help brings You and Trix out to meet someone. It was a man in a suit. He carries the scent of cologne and the sea. While he seems friendly, he leaves You feeling wary. Later that night, after the man is gone, Mother comes to a decision. She decides it is time to expand operations. She has a plan for You. She explains some of it. You find Yourself ill that evening and spend hours in the washroom.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ** She may have lost Herself while savoring that which She found left in the wake of such a desirous soul. Perhaps She would have reached the soul earlier had She not allowed for distraction. Perhaps the soul lost more of itself than would have been ideal. Eventually, the time came where she knew that She could dally no more no more. She had found the soul itself, and she saw that the soul was already cracking as the realms and the between continued grinding against the soul. She could not allow such a ruination of that which she sought. Realizing this, She cast aside her distraction then She pounced upon the soul. She seized the soul, making it Hers. When the Court saw Her doing this, many Peers assumed that She was toying with a morsel, and while some Peers frowned upon acts of this nature, the practice was fairly common among the less savory Peers. After a while had passed, these Peers realized that this was not what She was doing. Several Peers argued that She was going to empower a champion of Her own, even though this was several eras past when the practice had begun and an era past when the practice had fallen out of vogue. But when no Champion was immediately empowered and inserted, these Peers realized that there was something else happening. Her atypical behavior was disturbing the Court. Peers seldom, if ever, changed. She paid the Court no mind as she made the soul Hers. She fed the soul from Her own essence, nurturing the soul, easing its injuries and repairing the cracks. She admired the soul as She watched it grow and change. She refined and pressed it until its shape was most pleasing. In doing this, She denied nature; Her actions were simply not done, not by Peers, not in the between, and never on behalf of souls. Souls made the substance that fed the flesh of the Court. And while a single soul kept apart from destruction was hardly an issue in and of itself, the Court had observed resilient souls in the past, and some of these became the seeds for aggregations to occur, possibly becoming tumorous self-sustaining growths. Because of this, the Court took issue with Her decision to harbor a soul, to nurture it, to ween it from Her own substance, and to build up this soul¡¯s immunity to the deprivations of the between. The Court requested that She cease this disturbing behavior. These requests She ignored. The Court grew insistent. When denied, Their ire was raised. Some of these Peers pushed the Court to take action. No Peer was willing to take independent action against Her as doing so would put a Peer into a disadvantageous position. These Peers instead pushed the Court and argued for action to be taken. The arguments largely persuaded the Court to take action, but what that action would be had yet to be decided. Despite this pressure, She had yet to deem the soul ready. She was still pruning and shaping the soul to Herself such that the soul would resonate strongly with Her nature. But even if She was yet to move, She wished to avoid an open conflict with the Court; such a conflict would only damage her position and would likely cost her the soul itself. Fortunately, She found a solution within the bits of excess which She pruned from the soul. She had found a harrowing nightmare that had disrupted the uniformity of the souls crystalline matrix. This, when separated from soul, proved to be dramatic enough to serve as an adequate distraction to all of the Peers within broadcasting distance to Her. Which is what She did: She broadcasted the nightmare throughout the between. The ploy met with mixed reaction. Enough of the Peers were distracted to halt any aggressive actions from the Court, but She had hardly bought Herself much more than a scant amount of time. This led to her keeping Death near Her and ready to somewhat intervene should He be required. And in the meantime, She hastened to conclude the soul¡¯s preparations. ** You focus on the manicured fingernails as Mother applies the finishing touches. A wig, a slight powdering of dust atop enough foundation to alter Your skin tone, and the insertion of colored contacts to turn vibrant eyes hazel-brown. The contacts irritate Your eyes and Mother begins fanning Your face. She reprimands You for putting all her work at risk. You have no excuse and You apologized. She continues to loom, inspecting, seeking a fault to address, perhaps looking for a hint of betrayal. But she had trained You well. You know You are broken. You remain silent under her inspection until she nods in satisfaction. Mother claps her hands and calls for Your sister to come and see you off. Trix knew better than to request to come with You as she was prohibited from leaving except under strict supervision. For Trix¡¯s own safety, Mother would claim. And considering what fate awaited Trix should she attempt an escape but fail, Mother was likely right. Trix arrives at the foyer with a mixed expression. On one hand, she had helped assemble Your current target¡¯s portfolio and made the action possible. On the other hand, she despised what would be done and she had not made her opinions secret from You. She gives a halfhearted wave and a forced smile and wishes You well. It is the best she could offer, under the circumstances. Mother escorts You out the door and towards the help which will ferry You. Before Mother allows You to enter the vehicle, she puts a hand upon your shoulder. Mother reminds You of Your sister, and that she awaits my return. There is a subtle threat there that goes unsaid. You enter the vehicle and the help starts the engine. Before she shuts the door behind you, Mother states that quotas will not fill themselves. In a moment of charity, Mother comforts You in that this is a necessary lesser evil. Still Evil. You arrive before the target is on location. You were driven by the help who then parks in the lot with a view of the upscale mega-store¡¯s entrance. From the vehicle, You watch the entrance to the store until You spot the target. Entering the store is a woman wearing designer loaf-wear; notably, the woman appears to believe she is dressing down for a lazy day. She covers her face with large sun-glasses, texting on a phone with one hand and carrying an iced coffee in the other. She is not traveling alone. At her side is a small child, younger than eight. She looks like a miniature version of her mother. The child is bouncing with each step with far more energy than her mother. You wait five minutes before heading in; the car is parked at the curb where the help will wait. You smooth Your pleats and control Your breathing to center Yourself. You focus on each step before You, ignoring the final destination that Your trajectory will take You. It seems easier that way. You wander about the toy section of the store until you see the child incoming. You go an aisle ahead and begin to act bored while youthful and harmless, a flavor of innocence, Mother has called it in the past. The targeted child enters your aisle. Somewhere else in the store, the target¡¯s mother receives a phone-call. You strike up a conversation with the child, acting indifferent and coy but somewhat interested in the same toy as her. You play with her, but with a cool hesitation designed to draw an extrovert in. She has such pretty green eyes. You mention a game that You saw several teenagers playing. You imply that the game will be fun but that You are unsure if playing the game is a good idea. The child takes the bait and requests additional details for this game. You imply the game might get You in trouble and that the girl needs to be sure about it. The girl is now invested and She inquires further. A concession is made and You take the child as a confidant, explaining the game. After hearing the details, she remains unimpressed. She scoffs and informs You in all seriousness that she is already familiar with the game. You smile and roll Your eyes. You explain a detail You had forgotten to mention before. This game offers a new element of fun as neither her nor You would be ¡®it.¡¯ You would hide and wait for an adult to find You both. She remains skeptical. She worries she would get in trouble. You nod knowingly as You explain that the possible trouble is why the game is fun. But You recognize that the game is not for everyone. The child waffles. You move in to seal the deal. You offer to play the game and show the child something she had never seen before. Something You can show the child that will provide additional incentive. She tilts her head, curiosity growing and doubt fading. You have a pet fox, you say. From Trix¡¯s research, this child holds foxes in high regard. The child¡¯s eyes widen and she demands to know where this fox can be found. You offer Your hand with a practiced grin. She eyes Your hand for a second, an internal debate warring within her young mind. Somewhere else in the store, the child¡¯s mother continues an argument with a belligerent caller. The child takes your hand. You lead her along the side-aisle then follow the wall towards the exit. As You draw near the doors, You glance behind and catch her eyes with a smile. You encourage her. You tell her all about Your pet fox and about how soft the fur is and You share a humorous anecdote. Somewhere in the distance, You hear the girl¡¯s name being called. She pauses having heard her name as well. This is part of the game! You explain as You reach the threshold of the store¡¯s exit. You tug slightly, encouraging her. She bites her lip and looks back towards the store, where her mother had just shouted her name more loudly, a tinge of panic entering her tone. You yank the girl forward, out onto the sidewalk, all the while with a playful grin to put the bystanders at ease. She squawks in the beginning of a confused protest. The two of You cross the sidewalk to the curb by the time she internalizes the danger she has found herself in. The car is just before you waiting at the curb. The car¡¯s back door is ajar. Leaning against the car is the help, his face disguised with a false beard, contacts, and a wig. He sees You coming and he opens the back door all the way before stepping towards You with a plastic smile, a greeting on his lips. Two steps and he reaches You as You pull the child towards him. The girl protests. There is shock, surprise, and betrayal. Before she can truly call for help, she is thrown to the back seat. The help acts as though he is a disappointed parent who just had to punish a child to avoid further embarrassment. Inside the car there was another help already administering a sedative to the girl. You remain at the curb as the car drives off. You wave goodbye with your hand over your head and a rueful shake of the head. Bystanders glanced at the scene, but they turned away now with a lack of instance, figuring the drama petty and belonging to a family¡¯s antics. You wait seconds longer, ignoring the increasingly panicked voice from within the store every time the sliding doors open. You begin striding away, down the sidewalk. Several blocks later, You hop into another vehicle, driven by yet another help. You refuse to reveal any weakness, even as the driver glances Your way as though searching Your face for any fault. The help chauffeuring You informs You of the job¡¯s success. You nod and look away, watching out the window. You wonder if Mother will let you see the girl before selling the stock. You shudder and think of something else. *** The opportunity arrived. The soul was ready. The time had come. And this had come none too soon, as even before the distraction had run its course, the Court had resumed pestering Her. But no matter. She informed the Court that the soul would be leaving the between and serve as Her champion, and that the Court could trust that the problem would be resolved. The Court watched on as She and Death opened an entry to the troublesome realm. She had chosen a dreary and fractured landscape to insert Her and His champions; the location was where several threads of great import stitched the realm together. It was where those threads held taut. After opening the entryway into a gloomy and stained canyon, Death sent forth His selected soul which He then empowered with His final mote of spendable power. This soul of His, His champion, entangled itself with this mote; His champion gained the markings and trappings of flesh to demonstrate its allegiance to Death, and although a single mote was poor recompense and the soul hardly bore any resonance with the concept as a whole. It was fortunate that Her plans did not require much more from the soul than to serve as a veiling smokescreen to the surrounding kingdom. The time had come for Her to part ways with the soul which She had treated more as a beloved pet than as a morsel to consume. In fact, She considered the soul to be an adoptive child, of sorts, at least so far as being a Peer allowed Her. Peers neither procreated nor had a Peer of the Court ever raised a mortal¡¯s soul into something other. The Court watched on, prodding Her to take action. The portal into the realm could not be sustained and She had promised to take action. She had grown attached to the soul, however, and She regretted the need to send the soul off into a hostile land where the soul would most definitely suffer. She did not wish to be separated from a possession held dear. She held the soul with longing, even as the portal began to close. During all Her plotting, She had never anticipated such emotional attachment. A weakness, She knew, but one She lacked both the ability and the desire to excise. This caused Her to pause more than She ought to have when sending Her child into the realm. This delay partially fouled Her attempt to stealthily insert Her champion without the realm¡¯s mortals knowing. Her plans were not so fouled as to be ruined though. She had still yet to part with the soul, lingering with it, even as She was holding the portal open with Her own essence and risked contamination of the between. The plots for vengeance could not be aborted. She knew this. Her very nature demanded no less, even requiring Her to pay a great price. She inserted the prized soul, the beloved pet, the adoptive child. She had no choice but to do otherwise. But this did not mean that she did not do so lovingly. So as Her mote entered the realm alongside the soul, She spent another mote. As new flesh formed about the soul, She used all her skill and art, molding the flesh into an appropriate form befitting Her child. Or rather than an adoptive child, Her daughter. Another mote spent to make it so. Before withdrawing from this heartfelt embrace, She gifted one final mote and one final boon. She allowed the portal to close. The Court continued watching, to ensure no further troubles would come from this portion of the between. Death no longer had agency or much power to move, practically bled dry of His power. He lingered near Her, awaiting the great return to his investments. From there, She remained connected to Her daughter, the connection flowing between Her, through the between, through Her daughter¡¯s soul, and finally into the realm itself. It was as though She received reports secondhand, but the reports came nonetheless, and some trickle of power was returning already, as the connection between Her and Her daughter flowed two ways. As She monitored and waited, as the Court lingered, events within the realm proceeded as She had planned. Death¡¯s champion encountered an oozing beast in a pathetic showing, however it served the purpose required of it. Her daughter encountered the first thread, ensnared it with Her gift, and began to taste the despicable realities of the realm. But then a complication occurred, one which She had not foreseen. The ensnared thread, a mortal warrior of some sort, suffered a fit of madness and struck out against Her daughter. It took direct action from Herself to press against the tapestry¡¯s weave and shift the blade¡¯s course away from delivering a fatal wound. Instead, Her daughter lost her left arm. The mark She had left upon that arm had been lost, but not the mote, as the mote had been incorporated into Her daughter¡¯s soul itself. A mark from the egg of a myst-spawn had been placed upon Her daughter previously and by happenstance. It formed an easy form for the mote to begin expressing itself, although other than infiltrating the mark the mote remained dormant. Her daughter encountered a second thread. This thread proved more resilient against besotment, but not near enough to prevent capture. A tentative stroke of Her will caused this thread to vibrate and shake the realm. Yes, She thought, this thread was the true prize. Events continued apace, until another strange and unforeseen event occurred. Another thread of great import had been hidden beneath the tapestry, far from where that thread ought to have been. This thread joined the rest, but it was connected to a great tangle from a great distance away from where the thread had rejoined the tapestry. Her daughter ensnared this thread as well. This thread was pervasive, infectious, and somehow escaped the realm by passing through the two-way connection between Her and Her daughter. It should not have been possible. It was unprecedented. The thread was mortal¨Cor it ought to have been¨Cand the between could never host a living organism. And yet, the Between became a host to an invasive worming thing that was almost endearing, at least if its potential for causing destruction were overlooked. It was this thread¡¯s great potential that kept Her from destroying it outright. The Court was still watching, but not attentively. The Court would eventually discover the thread, but She hoped to keep the thread hidden until it had grown so pervasive within the between that it could survive the Court¡¯s attention and be subsequently drawn upon for Her schemes. She hid the thing the best she could. She continued broadcasting the choicest sendings She received from her daughter. Her daughter suffered several harrowing encounters and then received a new spell, one that offended Her as it modified and hid Her art. She continued to bind the threads to Her daughter, deploying Her charms which could not be resisted by mere mortals, at least not fully, and never when She truly spent the effort. The Court had pressed in closer to Her location as these broadcasts were sent. It seemed the Court enjoyed these diversions enough to come near Her location. Ordinarily, She would not have minded this as it would increase Her position and standing. However, She was still hiding the wormly infestation and She knew that the Court¡¯s proximity would reveal it. Some Peer was bound to notice it. Unless, She doubled down on the distraction, and began broadcasting from a different location. A different location such as where Death was located. As while He was a neighbor, He was not in Her immediate vicinity, and with the Peers looking in His direction, Her curiosity would escape attention, or so She hoped. What would serve as a suitable broadcast, She considered Death¡¯s latest champion. Had she a mortal frame, She would have snorted in amusement at Death¡¯s champion and its predicament. She decided that a summary of that champion¡¯s experiences to date would do. She prompted Death to begin sharing this, with Death largely serving as a stream for the experiences and essence of misery and irony to pass through. The Court agreed, also enjoying in the humor. They experienced the champion¡¯s journey, from its past mortal life to its current. In its last life, the champion had made its livelihood by offering other mortals the means to delay death. When one of those mortals grew discontent with the champion¡¯s service of casting off death, that mortal brought about the champion¡¯s own death. Ironically, that soul was then chosen by Death as a champion. When the soul was empowered and emplaced within the realm, it was promptly consumed by an ooze where the champion was forced to reside torturously reforming and dissolving until it was extracted by another mortal of the realm, and then enslaved. During all this time, the champion wished none other than a final death. But Death¡¯s blessing prevented this, forcing the champion into life against its will. This greatly amused the Court. While the Court dallied about Death, the worm continued to grow, stretching tendrils outwards in the between, reaching into the nearest realms of its own accord. She shepherded a few of these worms towards realms that had especially earned Her ire, where the worm began an incursion. At this point, a Peer stumbled upon one of these incursions. This alerted the Court to it. The Court girded itself to destroy the anomaly, as it was clearly not benign. They had found the worm too soon for Her newest plots. She planned to intervene, but She could not do so without a means to profit off the worm, and simply providing a futile protest would only harm Her own position. She needed something more, and after observing the worm, She thought she found a means to Her desires. It seemed that the worm could divide itself, if given the appropriate encouragement. This encouragement she began to provide. The worm did not respond immediately, it was still ill-practiced to the between. Fortunately, the corpulent and slothful Court was slow to act and easy to delay. She reached towards Her daughter and pulled another of the cast-off remnants for this purpose. ** You hate this. The pomp, the theater, the hours spent preparing. Trix complains and appears ill. You are also nauseous. But what choice do You have at this point? None, You tell Yourself, even if You know this as a lie. Instead of thinking such thoughts, You help Mother attend to the guests that are gathering in the large foyer between the building¡¯s glass doors and meeting hall. The foyer has been setup with standing tables and tablecloths. There are hor-dourves and drinks. You attend the guests. A woman in a sparkling dress and theater mask waves You over. She compliments Your outfit and has You twirl, her eyes scanning You with a perverse hunger that You do Your best to ignore. After she has satisfied herself, she gets to business and requests another drink. She also requests a copy of the catalog. It appears that her copy had been ruined by a carelessly spilt drink, also explaining why she needs a refill. You give her a copy of the catalog and You mix and deliver her requested drink. The night continues as guests chat. Some stink of tobacco. Others of cologne. Most have traces of alcohol on their breath. All wear masks save one among their number: the man forgoing a mask is the one who carries the scent of the sea. He wears an expensive suit with the collar button undone and a missing tie. He is the picture of business casual for an executive. Your discomfort only grows when You see that man and his indulgent kindness. At least the other guests wear their depravity openly, at least while here. Finally, the event can start. All of the guests who are expected have arrived. Mother pulls You away from Your duties and You attend her as she heads towards the back, along the service hallways. Along the way, you admire the stained glass, looking for anything else to focus on. The windows of this building are all showing scenes of some sort. You have little understanding of what the scenes were of, but they are interesting all the same. You reach the hallway behind the building¡¯s main hall, near where a small stage is raised. You are in the hallway still, where a door led to the stage itself. This is where the children are lined up. The stock. You shudder at the term, or you would have, had you not been beneath Mother¡¯s scrutiny. The help keep the children from straying or abusing their adornments. Trix has been nearby to offer them moral support. You recognize most of these children. You had helped Mother acquire them, afterall. You feel sicker than previously. The windows are not visible from this location. Your tongue swells partially. Repressing the urge to vomit requires most of Your attention at this time. Mother fusses over one of the girls. You overhear a boy ask Trix about the whereabouts of his parents. A girl catches your eye, she glares and asks about the alleged-fox that You had never followed through on. Despite Your better instincts, you approach the girl. She inquires as to why You are a party to this. Her maturity seems greater than her youth would bely. It may have been one of the reasons that the child had been targeted to begin with, although you had thought it was for her parent¡¯s looks and charms, not so dissimilar from¨C You force Yourself to think of something else. The girl seems as though she will make a scene. Perhaps she would spite Mother by ruining the makeup and dress. You urge her to not upset Mother because as horrible as all of this is, it could still be far worse. Trix sees Your distress and makes her way over where she begins to distract the troublesome child with a mix of sympathy and childish games. When Mother finishes reviewing the stock, Mother uses a small handbell to call the guests in towards the meeting hall. Mother has stepped onto the stage, continuing to ring the bell. The chimes are soothing. The guests make their way into the meeting hall. The lights are dimmed. The stage lights are on. Mother addresses the guests. The children are lined up, still in the hallway. You start the line and Trix ends it. The help monitor the children, preventing unwanted issues. Mother beckons. You lead the procession up onto the stage. The weight is oppressive, but You know better than to stumble or linger as the guests are watching. With a smooth gait You cross the stage towards the far side. The line follows behind you. When You reach the end, You stop and stand adjacent to two wooden flagpoles, flaccid banners of stripes and stars dangling at You eye level. You think the other flag might be regional, but You are unsure. The children line the back of the stage, in view of the audience; all of the children are towards the back, behind the false-floor that You know holds a shallow pool. Mother addresses the crowd. She extols the virtues of the wares, of the pedigrees and bloodlines, of the opportunities that are on offer tonight. She moves on quickly, as all of the guests already realize these opportunities. Instead, Mother begins speaking of the first child, explaining their parents, their forecasted strengths, and even an artist¡¯s rendition of what the child will look like upon maturity. And so, the guests begin to bid. The last of the children had been claimed. Of course, this is excluding You and Your sister as neither of You were for auction. Several of the younger children had whimpered as they had been collected by their eager buyers. You attempt to delude Yourself that these buyers were the childrens¡¯ new family as opposed to worse. The guests left with their wares, while others dallied to network. One of the buyers, the one forgoing his mask and smelling of sea, came to speak with Mother. He glances over at You and Your sister. The hair on the back of Your nape rises. Mother enters a conversation with him, pointing out that the man had not bid on any of the wares. He shrugs and says that none were to his interest. But the way he glances towards Trix makes his interests clear. Your headache worsens. The man wants Trix for her abilities. The man represents a group that needs loyal and skilled talent. That Trix was a girl and could serve a multitude of uses was also mentioned. As subtle as You could, You edge Trix behind you and attempt to conceal her behind the flags. You worry that Mother will strike a bargain with the man. You know that if Mother sold her off, You would never see Your sister again. You need to act, but there is no true recourse. Escape is impossible. No aid will ever be coming. And that is if You deserved aid to begin with, which You do not. You know that the only way out is to plead Your case to Mother. But Mother is in discussion and will not appreciate an interruption. You will be punished for this, but You refuse to risk losing Your sister without at least trying to stop this. After firming Your resolve, You interrupt Mother in the midst of her conversation. You use all tact at Your disposal. Mother frowns. Children should be seen and admired, but not heard, and definitely not without being called upon first. Despite this faux-pas, the kindly man grants a patient and a smile that leaves Your stomach churning with acid. You make Your case to Mother to keep Trix and to not sell Trix off. Mother is embarrassed by the display. You quiet down under Mother¡¯s imperious gaze. You swallow. Rescue comes from an unlikely direction, from the man himself. He shrugs and gives Mother a month to procure similar talents. His organization is not overly selective, so long as the talent is supplied. What follows is a struck agreement and accord between Mother and the man. You back away as soon as You get the chance. Mother remains stern and silent on the return trip to the compound. That night, Your punishment was needles and confinement in a dark and cramped closet. ** Most of the Court was left reeling by the distraction, requiring time to digest the unpalatable broadcast. However, most of the Court was not all of the Court and several Peers advanced upon both Her and the parasite. The worm had divided into several seeds which She dispersed while leaving the bulk of the worm where the Court had found it. These seeds she planted in distant corners of the between, hiding behind unfavorable realms which were lacking mortals and thereby a dearth of souls. Essentially, locations hidden by realms that none of the Court would open aspects of themselves within. Soon, the Court reconvened in full, and they demanded to know what She had been doing with such an anomaly, and if it had yet to detrimentally affect Her. Afterall, if the worm could harm a Peer, it could harm the Court. She denied its danger but agreed to an exam to put the Court at ease. Meanwhile, She aided the Court in stamping out the worm, at least the portion of the worm that the Court knew of. Doing so was oddly satisfying to Her. The exam of Her well-being less so. Some of the Court attempted to intrude upon Her daughter through Her connection, but She blocked these interloping Peers with an aspect of Herself lodged in the middle of the two-way connection. As this aspect of Herself was poisonous, the Peers pulled back from the connection and left Her daughter alone. After all, Her daughter was Hers and She would protect that which belonged to Her: madness and all. Time passed, and Her daughter finally arrived at the focal point where the realm frayed heavily. Her daughter had found a shrine. This came earlier than expected. Much earlier. It also served as an opportunity for the Court to intervene and affect Her daughter, as shrines were weak points between the material and the immaterial. For whatever reasons, mortals tended to detect sites of this nature and construct edifices to allay superstitions. Foolishness, as She knew full well that none of the Court cared for a mortal¡¯s well-being, nor did any of the Court care for whatever offerings a mortal could provide. Regardless, a shrine had been constructed at this location, Her daughter had brought Her anchor near enough that She could establish a connection, which she attempted to do. She pushed through the immaterial intent on claiming the shrine, but as She did so, She encountered a blockage. Had another Peer arrived first? She wondered. But She received no signs of communication as She pushed against the blockage, and most Peers would have complained greatly had it been a Peer she ran up against. She examined the blockage in detail, and She recognized similarities between the blockage and the worm She had briefly hosted in the between. The blockage was the same sort as the seeds that She had spread through the between. Using Her familiarity with the organism, She convinced the organism to begin moving up and out of the well. The organism was quite happy to move, but it seemed stuck. Thus, She went through the indignity of pushing the bloated thing up and out as Her daughter helped to pull. It felt like a sudden pop when the worm finally vacated the passage from the immaterial to the shrine. She flooded through, claiming the shrine and its locale as Her own. And none too soon did she claim this location, as Her daughter had suffered greatly during the removal of the blockage. Somehow, for some reason, Her daughter¡¯s companion worm had vacated and left Her daughter injured and at risk of immediate death. Her daughter was not permitted to perish. While She would of course reclaim Her daughter¡¯s soul, Her daughter¡¯s work had yet to conclude. As Her daughter remained in the shrine, as Her daughter¡¯s friend administered medical aid, She considered what actions She could take: particularly, She considered the marks and invested motes of power. In Her Daughter, two motes had been fully invested, one mote had been freed for reinvestment upon the loss of the left arm, and this was in addition to the original third mote that had yet to be fully activated, though it had already been invested within the mark gained from a myst wyrm¡¯s egg. She decided to pay the cost and She began modifying these motes and their existing expressions. She resisted the impulse to remove the Kitsune¡¯s Guise; the spell was offensive, not by nature, but in her daughter¡¯s over-reliance upon it, as if she were ashamed of her nature which had been lovingly crafted after Her own. All Her changes would be strategic, made to aid Her daughter in a way that also pleased Her. She had long since watched Her daughter and She had noticed that despite the ability to cast Illusions, that Her daughter rarely did. Likely, this was due to the throttling between the material and the immaterial that limited the ability to cast Illusions practically. This was the first that she altered and improved. Fixing this consumed an entire mote along with the spare materials left from the wyrm¡¯s mark, but the price was gladly paid for what was gifted to Her daughter. Still, a single mote remained to be invested, although it could have been saved for another day. She gazed down upon Her daughter and saw her struggle with her lack of arm and with the gaping internal wounds left from where the parasite had vacated. A single mote would be insufficient to resolve these issues, unless another transaction was performed to further anchor Her daughter to Herself. Doing so would weaken Her by another mote, but would strengthen Her daughter. Considering the shrine Her daughter had gifted Her which was already beginning to draw power from the realm, She also gladly paid this price. As She deftly shifted her daughter¡¯s flesh and established circuits for applying power to purpose, She tied a portion of Her daughter to the shrine and then to Herself. All while Her daughter rested. Power flowed from the realm through the daughter through the shrine and unto Her, while that which was Her flowed from Mother through shrine unto daughter. During this time, between Her and Her daughter, a killing stone continued to form. ¡ª Talents:
    • Athleticism I (4/9):
      • Climbing I (5/9)
        • Featherlight I (5/9)
        • Inversion (3/9)
      • Gymnastics (5/9)
    • Stealth II (2/9)
      • Trackless Tracks I (8/9)
        • Area Coverage (7/9)
      • Alchemical Immunity: (2/9)
      • Unnatural Concealment: (2/9)
    • Eschiver I (7/9) (+3)
      • Evasion I (4/9) (+1)
        • Impending Sense (7/9)
      • Lucky Break I (5/9)
        • Chance Encounter (5/9)
    • Courtly Dancing: Treachery I (5/9)
      • Flexibility I (5/9)
      • Persuasive Lies (7/9)
  • Her Flesh: (1/9) [new]
  • Always Form: (1/9) [new]
  • Her Love: (1/9) [new]
  • Tangible Hallucinations I: (1/9) [new]
Spells:
  • [slot removed] [new]
    • Guise of the Kitsune I (3/9)
      • Malleable Form: (7/9)
    • Passive Enervation: (4/9)
  • Tithes to Above: (1/9) [new]
Gifts:
  • Obsession (5/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
  • Closed (0/9)
Removed: Mark from left mid-section. This was the Mark received when Myst Egg was exposed to a living metal by mistake. The Myst Egg was found in an hundeor den and was later taken hostage by Emboru. While indisposed in the shrine, this Mark evolved into something else. Notes: [+ Morphable arm] [+ Illusions -> Talent, Persistent, Limited in size and solidity] [- Myst Egg] [+ Parasitic Spirit Drain to feed Her] Absorption 2.6.6.X.2.1 A rough shove pushed him through a threshold of some sort. No explanation had come. He was pushed and prodded and forcibly moved against his will, but no explanation ever came. He did not understand why he was there, why he was suffering, or what was happening in his vicinity. He did recognize the disdain, the measurements, and the fact he was stuck in some form of primitive prison. Why though, that was the question. When Thanatos had offered him a boon, Nick had gladly accepted, relieved that he could avoid the ego death that the beyond entailed. He was now stumbling and sprawling onto rough stones in a dark space. A loud metallic clanking came suddenly from the direction he had been shoved. He turned in time to see a metal gate slam into place. He blinked in the darkness. The space was either so broad as to defeat the scant light available, or the space had been painted with vanta-black. Either way, he could barely see the gate and the stone walls which were within touching distance. Where had they put him? He was unsure. From what he could tell, he was looking at some form of medieval fortress from the outside; however the space he now found himself was not open-air. No, it seemed he was in a fairly large cavern, larger than a stadium at the very least. The fortress seemed to be blocking the path of egress. An awful realization began to settle into Nick¡¯s bones. He was trapped here. Off in the distance, behind him, he saw dim lanterns along ramshackle structures which could only qualify as buildings if the most generous of definitions were applied. Though he supposed roofs would be unnecessary with the cavern above. This was all he had time to realize before he was interrupted by a woman¡¯s guttural barking from the otherside of an angled slit in the wall. It was not the English language, but he found he could understand what she said. ¡°-Prisoner!¡± she shouted. ¡°Clear the area!¡± He was unable to spot her within the recesses of the fortress, but he could tell where her voice had generally come from. He turned towards this source to lodge his protests. ¡°And what do you expect me to do?¡± He asked, keeping a cool head despite how lesser people may have panicked. Years in a boardroom honed him into something that would not so easily bend, at least not without feeling out any possible advantages. ¡°You want me to shoot?!¡± ¡°Of course not, no.¡± Nick continued to stare at where he thought the woman was. His imagination began playing tricks, showing him a woman taking aim with a rifle or crossbow or some other implement. He squashed these imaginings before they could wreak havoc with his bravery. As he continued to steel his nerves, the woman cursed. ¡°Gonna be a hard one? Godslickin¡¯ fool! Go head to that town over there; maybe make friends, ask around, do whatever! Maybe do what you¡¯re supposed to do and get to hunting! Hunt what? Nick almost asked, but the woman continued her tirade. ¡°-Now, clear the area! Get behind the line!¡± He was told to hunt, he had been called a prisoner, and he seemed to be locked into a sealed location where a jury-rigged town had been constructed from likely local resources. These observations led Nick to the conclusion that he had been sentenced to some form of penal-colony. ¡°-Five!¡± But before he could press for details, the woman began her countdown. ¡°Four!¡± He saw movement in several backlit slits in the wall. He suspected that those may have been other guards¨Clikely armed with pointy sticks or bits of metal¨Cbut also possibly with crossbows. There had definitely been shadows moving, though. That had not been his imagination. Would his jailors truly injure him, even though he was presumably some form of indentured servant? He doubted it, but he could not be certain. ¡°Three!¡± And there were things besides simply injuring him that they could inflict. If he had some form of balance to work off, or an outstanding debt, they might simply add to the sum and lengthen his sentence. He decided it was best to avoid risking it. He spun and marched towards the blocks demarcating the space that prisoners were to keep clear. There was a path that traveled between the stones, one that was worn flat. It led towards the town in the distance. Without knowing what else he was to do, he followed the path towards the town, already wondering what questions he should prioritize when he arrived. If it was a penal-colony as he suspected, then there would undoubtedly be a large number of unsavory and violent individuals. But if the jailors were to leave this town ungoverned, it would likely be detrimental to the bottom line of whatever this town was to produce. Nick decided that there was likely some element of control present, perhaps akin to a privatized police force. Likely, so long as he took care, he would be safe enough. Especially if he kept to the better lit areas. Loathsome the town was, though. During his approach, he inspected the town further. There were lanterns with tinted lenses or bulbs, casting a variety of mismatched colors where any light was visible at all. The assortment of colors was the only flattering thing, and even then he suspected from the cracked membranes and irregular jury rigged casings that the mismatched colors had not been intentional. The lights had been attached to the sides of several buildings made of not wood, but stone and bits of bone and hide. There may have been some sinew threading and holding hides taut. Despite this limitation in material, several of these buildings were over two stories in height. The tallest of the crude buildings had three stories thereabouts, though it did have a tilt to it. However, there was one stone tower that stood taller than the rest. This tower seemed to be styled similarly to the fortress. Likely that was the local garrison for the policing force, which confirmed his suspicions. After he reached the town, the path into a busy boulevard. Busy not with traffic, but with loitering men and women and outdoor styled markets. He may have sneered as he passed through one of these merchants until he finally found what might have been a reputable vendor, at least for this town. Several layabouts, shirtless men covered in intricate tattoos, watched Nick. The attention left Nick uncomfortable, a prickling tension along his nape, a cold and damp sensation invading his armpits. He could have sworn he heard several of these men speaking ill of him. Something along the lines of, ¡°-fresh meat-¡± although Nick was certain he was imagining it, putting words where he had only heard a murmur. Regardless, Nick decided to get off the street. He was just so happening to be passing one of the larger marketplaces, an open air storefront marked with a variety of goods and clothes, though most were a bleached yellow or tan, likely due to the lack of dyes. He had remembered reading that somewhere, that dyes had been expensive once upon a time, before capitalism. He entered the storefront and saw the assumed clerk. Nick met the clerk¡¯s eyes and exchanged a greeting. OR attempted to. ¡°Excuse me my good man,¡± he said, catching the eye of a clean man who was leaning against the wall. ¡°What can you tell me of¨C¡± The clerk spoke in a lazy drawl, indifferent to the fact that Nick had been speaking. ¡°A new lich then? I had thought they had stopped¡­ did the wardens give you any chits by chance? Or just the clothes on your back?¡± The clerk eyed the relatively poor quality shirt and trousers hungrily. This took Nick aback, as the clothes were likely coarse wool and were undyed. ¡°Excuse me, but you speak of chits, is that the local form of currency then? The clerk tsked. ¡°Sounds like a no then. With how dumb you look, you¡¯re not gonna be lasting long. My advice is to start running and not to stop until you figure out how to survive.¡± The clerk nodded in the direction Nick had been walking, had he stayed on the boulevard. ¡°That there¡¯s the dungeon. Best you get.¡± Nick perhaps was taking a bit too long to process everything that he heard. There was a dungeon somewhere, and he was supposed to hunt. But what exactly was a dungeon, and what was he supposed to be hunting for? Was this how he would increase his own Godsmark? And Nick had been called a lich. Now that Nick was looking at the wares a bit closer, he thought they might have been made from bone, although how bone had been molded into that shape was an entirely different question. The clerk scoffed. ¡°Yep. A dumb one. Next time be sure to hit the dungeon first.¡± ¡°What, but¨C¡± Nick started when he was jerked down and back. A heavy weight had hit his shoulder. The clerk continued, indifferent to the fact that Nick was being accosted. ¡°-Too slow,¡± the clerk said. The force continued pulling Nick backwards, out from the storefront. The movement was startling, but by the time he had been dragged several feet he realized it was a meaty hand attached to a tattoo covered arm. There were several other of these thugs waiting out in the street. ¡°Now hold on!¡± Nick began to protest. When it seemed that other than a few curious glances that none of the onlookers would come to his aid, he began shouting for help. As he took a breath to do so, a fist landed in his gut, driving the air from him. Another hit his chin, causing him to see stars. The thugs were still dragging him. He lost track of his surroundings, but he seemed to have been taken to an alleyway just off the boulevard. His situation was dire. He thrashed to get free, intent on gaining space or forcing someone to help him, or at the very least making these criminals work for it, to show he was not merely an easy mark. One of the men swore. That might have been Nick. Things were fuzzy. He thought he might have had a concussion. There were stones and rough edges but nothing sharp¨Cidly he wondered if they were trying to keep his clothes free of blood, but of course that would be ridiculous¨CUnauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. -A sharp pain with a sense of falling and vertigo. ¨Cgradually awareness returned, not quickly, not easily, but as though he was trapped within a dream. Sensations were absent, barely a consciousness remained. Slowly a vague feeling of itching settled in, as though ants were crawling through his flesh. The itching grew in intensity. He would have scratched himself raw to spare himself, except his motor nerves had yet to be regrown. He was helpless, more so than a newborn babe. He would have called out for mercy if he could. He was uncertain if he had even regrown his lungs yet, if he was even breathing. The phantom impression of twitching came next. In one area, that he could not exactly locate, the itching would fade, but only to be replaced in another area, more so than the first. Of course he recognized what was happening. Even in the dream-like state, as he gradually re-inserted his mind into his body, he knew what was occurring. He was being regrown about his so-called ¡®phylactery.¡¯ Which meant he was once again in custody of the inquisitors, or the wardens, or whatever fool name they went by. The itching was awful. The clicking, creaking, unceasing sensory as nerves stretched themselves to reconnect his brain to his body. He felt irritated that his mind had to be reattached first. He could have been spared most of this pain otherwise. At the very least, his wardens could have given him a pain-killer or anesthetic of some sort. Hell, even a stiff drink would have helped. But no, his captors provided no such aid. Oh how he loathed them. Trapped in the emptiness, accompanied only by the itch. Then came hallucinatory sensations, pricks and tingles, portions of him felt hot and cold at the same time, his skin reported a mixture of textures, at least he assumed those impressions were from his skin. He felt wet. Grimy. Covered in slime that burned. His hearing was close to returning, as he now was experiencing tinnitus in all its various pitches. If the more delicate organs were starting, then his body was close to sustaining itself, which meant that soon his captors would reveal themselves. He was beginning to see phantom visions when they came. A hard pressure was applied to his chest, followed by a spreading, then a yank. A hollowness settled in where it had been removed from. They had stolen his phylactery. His body felt empty. He felt pain in his left shoulder. He ached and felt short of breath all at once. His regeneration slowed, but never stopped. The pain lessened, but always remained. Why were the wardens acting this way, what were their motivations? Nick tried to understand his oppressors. His most recent memories had been muddled, but he was beginning to remember the worst of it. The stuff tied to strong emotions. Like the outrage attached to the fact that he had been sentenced without a trial, he had been sent to a penal-colony of some sort, although the terms of his sentence had never been explained, at least not that he remembered. There was a cavernous space though, he remembered that much. He stewed in these partial recollections for some time before he finally regained his vision. It came blurrily at first. He inspected his physical state. He was nude, which made sense as he had just been created anew. His hair had yet to reform. His skin seemed raw or missing in some places, but the regeneration was continuing apace. Of course, what truly drew his attention was his surroundings. A foul and congealed substance was dripping on him. The same substance covered the ground in a puddle of a slurry of flesh, bits of fat and bone and skin¡­ it reminded him of an extra wet mix of sausage packings. Looking up, he saw several openings that were leaking the¡­ stuff. The stink of it told him some of the stuff had gone bad. He wanted to gag. Intellectually, he felt he should be vomiting in disgust. However, the visceral reaction never came. Which was fine. It would have been a sign of his own weakness anyways. He climbed to his feet quickly, if unsteadily, wiping the foulness off. The cellar-like room was recessed and a mix of metal and stone. A heavy iron door, rusted, lacking a handle from his side, had several open slats which was the only source of light. He went to the door and tried pushing on it. The metal felt rough and tore his palms slightly. He wrapped his fingers around the slats and tried pulling, but it did not budge, not even in the slightest. The room stank even worse after he had finished regenerating his nostrils and sense of smell. Naturally, he attempted to call out, for somebody to come and let him out from this pit, to give hims a blanket, or clothes, or even a hand-towel for god¡¯s sake. His voice echoed down the hall, but there came no response. Once more, he called out. In the distance, he heard movement. Or he thought he did. There was a rhythmic shuffling sound. A person may have been coming. He called out once more, forcing his voice to remain calm and confident, for he refused to sound desperate. The shuffling came closer. He called once more. The shuffling paused for a moment, then seemed to grow more distant. In the stone halls, sounds echoed strangely, and he felt uncertain as to what he heard. An hour passed, or felt like it, before the shuffling came near once more. This time he held his tongue, waiting for something, anything, to happen. The shuffling resolved into footsteps. A slow and plodding pace, heavy as well. Were these his captors then, he wondered. He pressed his cheek to the door, ignoring the prickling cold metal in order to catch a glimpse of whoever this person was. And a glimpse of them, he caught. It was a heavy set woman, a thick jaw, almost neanderthal in appearance. She lumbered, had short hair, wore a heavy jacket and large steel-toed boots. She carried a truncheon in one hand. He would be lying if he said he was not somewhat intimidated by the woman. She was taller than he was. Still, though, he would not let this opportunity pass just because he was afraid of what might happen. When the woman was nearly before his cell, he cleared his throat and spoke as confidently as he could, as though he were meeting with the board. ¡°About time,¡± he said. ¡°Are you finally going to let me out of this pit?¡± Despite his query, she remained mute, stepping up to the cell-door impassively. Her eyes passed over his, but it was as if he did not exist. He would have called out in offense, demanding the attention he was owed, but she was unlocking the door. The brute of a woman spoke. ¡°Move,¡± she said. The door creaked on its hinges as it opened, pushing into him before he could react. The metal struck him, cracking his nose and sending him falling backwards into the slurry. He held his face, confused, looking up at the woman¡¯s silhouette in the doorway. She acted as though she had not just assaulted him. ¡°Come,¡± she said. When he hesitated, just slightly, she stepped down into the slurry, splashing, and brought her truncheon down. It struck his chest, but not heavily enough to do more than leave a bruise. The truncheon remained there, pressing against him, making breathing difficult enough that he was tempted to lean back further. All the while, she waited impassively. He pushed the truncheon away, or tried to. It remained unyielding for the first several seconds, before the woman relented and stepped back. As he was holding onto the truncheon, the woman pulled him along with her. She stepped back from the room and continued lifting the truncheon until he had his feet under him. Belatedly, he realized she had set him down in the hallway. Even more belatedly, she yanked the truncheon away from him, causing his fingers to smart. It was then that she issued another command along with a gesture. ¡°Walk,¡± she said. He stumbled when she gave a shove. The woman was large enough that he doubted he could take her in an even fight, especially in his current state. So rather than protesting, he turned and obeyed. Of course he had many questions and many demands he wanted to make. But he was naked, and he would rather have his backside to her than her front. Still, he tried to get at least some information from this warden. ¡°Where are we going?¡± he asked, continuing to walk with her at his back. She did not respond. ¡°Will I get clothes at least?¡± Nothing. She had the gall to say nothing. Before he wasted his breath further, they reached another doorway, with no obvious mechanism. He stopped before it. She pulled a lever that he had failed to notice at first. The heavy door lifted as the lever was pulled, the mechanism seemingly took much strain and constant pressure applied to the lever, judging by the woman¡¯s grunt as she pulled it. When the door was lifted, he saw a descending tunnel. Nick glanced back at the woman. She was holding the lever down with one arm, the other still with the truncheon, one he noticed was long enough to still reach him. ¡°Go.¡± ¡°Just where am I supposed to go to? And will I be provided clothing when I get there?¡± ¡°Go,¡± she grunted more forcefully. Meanwhile, given her mulish behavior, he was wondering if she was perhaps mentally retarded, or at the very least special needs. As he was still hesitating, the woman lost patience and jabbed her truncheon into his ribs. The blow caused him to step back in a stumble, nearer to the raised door and the grimy dark descending stairs. ¡°Go.¡± She raised the truncheon for a heavier blow. ¡°Alright, I¡¯m going,¡± he said, waving away as he stepped past the door. He paused and turned to look just as a rapid clicking and groan alerted him to the fact that the door was falling quickly and gaining speed. He jumped further away from the door as it clanged with a crash. Behind him, where the open doorway had been, was now a solid slab of metal. The woman remained on the other side of it, meaning that he was on his own once more. He almost spoke to himself to vent, but he was beyond showing such weakness. Especially when it might draw attention to him and his current nude state. Humiliating. Also, cold and uncomfortable. The stones were slick with filth thick enough to squeeze between his toes. He was still covered in rotten viscera. He stood alone at the top of a stairway that descended downwards with no obvious light sources. And yet, he could still see? Odd, he thought. How could he see without light? He glanced down at the unsightly tattoo on his right forearm, or the Godsmark as it was called. It seemed different from the last time he had seen it, maybe it grew, and maybe he now had better eyesight as a result? These were all questions he had no way to answer. He groused to himself as he remembered that before he shook his head and put his feelings on the matter aside. He focused instead on what he wanted to achieve, then on how to get there. His short term goals were the easiest to act on and would in no way impede his long term goal of freedom and prosperity. What he needed immediately was safety, clothing, and a bath. Remaining where he was would provide none of those. Returning to the vile shanty town might provide some of those things if he had some form of currency and the ability to defend himself. Considering that his Godsmark would grow with him as he experienced new things and that he could gain those experiences by venturing beyond the shanty town, he settled on the best course of action. The so-called dungeon. He sneered. But at least it would grant him the environment where he could improve himself, pull himself up by his bootstraps, so to speak. And if some god-forsaken monster were to kill him, at least he would be no worse off than he had already been. With his determination only growing, he made his way along the cavern¡¯s wall, skirting the penal-colony and avoiding the thugs therein, he eventually reached the descending passageway that presumably led to the dungeon. Once there, he began to follow the path downwards, sometimes a ramp, and other times stairs. Then it opened up into many branches, reminiscent of a porous stone like pumice, except these openings were all well worn and littered with garbage. Warm air was flowing up from the tunnels, although not quickly enough to be called a breeze. He chose one of the less traveled passages and descended. Absorption 2.6.6.X.2.2 Three tunnels later, two forks in the descent, in what was a mix of a labyrinth, catacomb, and lava-tube at once, it was there that he found his first foe. Or rather, that his foes found him. They came fast, quick as bullets, small enough to hide and wait in ambush, which he assumed that they did. He heard them scurry across the floor, scampering and chittering in a crude facsimile of language. He felt a moment of doubt. Now that he was to actually follow through on his plan to battle beasts to ¡®level-up,¡¯ and he could scarcely even think that thought without feeling a wave of disgust, but now that he was about to fight an unknown number of foes, while naked, while lacking even a stick to club them with¡­ well, he found he had second thoughts. But what else could he have done? Beg? He likely would find himself in a worse position if he did so. A contemptuous position at that. No, he would follow through and battle these foes. They were small, afterall. And he could regenerate from most damage. But they came so quickly and so fast! They were practically on him before he realized what they were: rats. He was being accosted by rats. These were what had frightened him, gave him second thoughts? He derived his own cowardice and lashed out at the first to reach him. Except, his kick missed. A rat landed on his thigh, digging in and clawing his bare flesh, inches away from his privates. He panicked and flailed and struck the rat with his hand, pulling it off him along with a flap of his flesh. It hurt. He smashed the rat against the ground then stomped upon it, killing it with a squish. It was pleasantly warm. But that rat had not been alone. Others scurried towards him, from all angles. His thigh itched as skin began to regrow. He stomped another, catching its back and breaking it. A warmth suffused him, the rush of combat. Another lept from a nearby crevice in the wall. He struck out, punching it¨Che missed¨Cit hit his chest¨Che grabbed it and twisted it, losing more skin but already regenerating. More came. He never found himself winded or exhausted, instead he was growing with vigor and was working up a hearty appetite. Another rat reached him. At some point, one of them had gotten his achilles. Nick was slow on his feet, but still much larger than any of these rats. He fell down, using his weight and his knee to drive the rat into the stone, crushing it, and once again gaining that warmth. In such a tunnel, in such a place, even if the air was room temperature, which it was not, being naked would leave him cold and vulnerable to the elements. But all around him, he felt warmth, which was very noticeable against the chill he had been feeling previously, before the rats had attacked. Something stung his arm. He lashed out but found nothing. The burning was coming from beneath his skin, under the godsmark. It appeared his gambit had paid off, although there was no obvious power gained. Truthfully, he could not read his own godsmark, and he assumed that most lacked that ability as well. At least from the inquisitor¡¯s who questioned him, it appeared that the knowledge to read the sigils was either very rare or unique to each individual. The fact he lacked understanding of his godsmark did bother him, but he shoved that irritation aside. He had gotten what he wanted, growth. But now, as he was regenerating, and as the adrenaline settled, he ached and he hungered. His stomach made its emptiness known. He felt faint and light headed and he realized he not eaten since he had awoken¡­ his ribs felt hollow. With his current resources, he knew what he had to do, although he felt disgusted that he was forced to resort to this. It was better than being dead, though. At least, he thought it might have been. Surely he could suffer this indignity now so that he could prosper later? Yes. He once more steeled himself and brought the rat from beneath his knee up to his mouth. He shut his eyes. He lacked the tools to disassemble the rat, to cook it. With what he knew, he doubted he would suffer from any food-borne illness. It was just¡­ gross. Dirty fur, which he tasted, the sensation of warmth, squeezing of teeth, juice popping¡­ It reminded him of a hairy tomato with a thicker skin than normal¨Cyes, he decided that was what he would picture himself eating¨Ceven though there was sinew and crunching bones¨Cand something hard¨Che bit down and felt the object lodge itself between his teeth, causing some to chip. If his teeth were not included in his regeneration, he would have been upset. Instead, he spat out the bits of teeth and the hard object he had mistakenly bit. It was a rough and uncut gemstone of some sort, which glowed, if slightly. Why was a glowing bit of rock inside a rat? Was it a phylactery? No, he knew that it was not. It was something else. He checked the other rats, they all had a stone buried within their chests. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. The stones were tiny, but they glowed, and they clearly had some value. Suddenly, he understood. The penal-colony forced prisoners to enter this aptly named dungeon to kill these creatures and return with the bits of glowing stones, which he assumed were then traded for necessary goods. It was practically slave labor. A part of him was impressed at the setup. It solved the issue of housing criminals while generating a stream of income. It was later he learned the gems were called Dungeon Stones. His arm was burning again as his godsmark stretched further up his arm. He was growing inured to the pain. In fact, he was coming to appreciate the pain. Afterall, it meant he was growing. Although, regarding the godsmark¡­ his feelings were mixed.On one hand, a force he could not comprehend was modifying his body without his consent. On the other hand, he very much required these improvements in order to attain any worthwhile quality of life. As there was little choice in the matter, he continued as he did, hunting the beasts in the tunnels, subsisting off raw flesh. It was difficult to keep track of time. It was just so monotonous. And there were no windows overlooking a city, or pretty little office administrators to help him keep track of his schedule. He wondered if this was what working for an hourly wage was like, but he suspected that what he had been forced into was worse. Another fingernail was torn off just as he thought that. He was extracting stones from dead rats. Without the appropriate tools, he had been forced to improvise with his own body. His godsmark burned again. His finger itched at the cuticle as a new nail was beginning to regrow. Certainly painful. For the Dungeon Stone he extracted, this he stored in the guts of a dead rat he was carrying with him, using the corpse as a makeshift bag of sorts. Not for the first time since he had entered these tunnels, he wished for tools. Even a flint knife would be better than he was now, naked and relying on his arms and legs to fight. How he ever had the arrogance to believe he could combat that oozing creature, he could not fathom. Even the rats proved troublesome. Eventually, his makeshift bag was stuffed full, and he decided to return to the shanty-town to trade for supplies. Or a bath. Before he left, he used twisted guts and uncleaned skins to form a loincloth. It stank, it itched, but it mostly covered his decency. A shameful display, but he hoped to resolve it soon. He ascended from the tunnels. Throughout his sojourn, he had never lost track of his positioning, despite the all of the tunnels and forks he had traveled down. While not all ascending pathways led towards the town, most of them did. As he traveled, he did hear the echo of voices, and the sounds of laughter and what could almost be described as boisterous and drunken combat, but he never caught sight of any of these other parties. He was thankful for that. The only other people he saw was when he breached into the mega-cavern. There were several well armed and armored thuggish looking people resting along benches, far more attentive than Nick would have expected. He paused in his stride. Other than the guard that had ejected him into the cavern, these were the first humans he had come across in his near naked state. He must have looked more like a feral animal than anything else. But, he knew that even if he felt shame and embarrassment, that he should absolutely avoid showing it. He resumed his pace, striding with false confidence and purpose. One of the armored persons, Nick thought possibly a woman but was unsure, turned their head to observe Nick. Nick kept going, making no effort to confront them, choosing rather to pass their guard post. ¡°Think he¡¯s got enough for the toll?¡± the opposite guard asked, a man. A woman¡¯s voice answered, ¡°Him? Does he look like he can?¡± she scoffed. ¡°Let him be.¡± ¡°...alright, I guess he¡¯s had a rough couple of days.¡± Nick nodded towards them but did not stop, striding past them and entering the larger mega-cavern, where a ramshackle civilization had been built around a penal-colony. The path he followed led directly towards the town, towards the main boulevard, in fact. Of course there were people between the dungeon and the town. He expected stares. But with the scant lighting, none of the locals saw him until he reached the main thoroughfare. He stepped onto the partially lit boardwalk and could not help but feel the stares of the merchants and thugs. He heard laughter but he continued searching for an adequate merchant that would be willing to barter and had the goods he needed. Preferably as quickly as possible. He did not feel either safe or confident with his current abilities and state. He needed to escape the town as quickly as possible, as soon as he bartered for what he needed. The first merchant to have what he needed is where he immediately headed. It was basically a glorified wagon turned stall, selling what looked like second hand goods. It was operated by an old woman She seemed amenable enough, and did not overly judge him for his plight. At least, if she did, she kept the judgment to herself. Best of all, she accepted Dungeon Stones raw, instead of the ¡®chits¡¯ that the town used for currency. Of course, he suspected he got a worse deal because of it, but he had no intention of heading towards the warden¡¯s tower in the middle of town. Because of this, though, he ended up trading most of his haul away, which she seemed to take more as a mercy to him, or so it seemed. He came away wearing a pair of trousers made of what might as well be jute, along with a cord for a belt, and a small rusted blade, no longer than his thumb. He tried negotiating for a bag as well, but she refused. Apparently, he lacked the funds for even a leather pouch. Without an abundance of funds, and even if he still had a few stones left, he retreated the way that he came from. As he left the town, he saw a pitiful sight that left Nick feeling something akin to empathy. He found the experience less than comfortable. It was something he spotted in the cramped space between two buildings which leaned against each other. There, sprawled on the ground with sunken cheeks and the obvious appearance of starvation, there was a starving child. Dirty, piteous, and too weak to survive, if left alone. It was bad enough, that if the child had remained silent while Nick passed, Nick would have thought the child a corpse. However, the child did groan. By this time, Nick had already overstayed his welcome in the town. He also may have gained a tail in town. One of the shirtless thugs had started following Nick after he found himself a pair of pants. Nick decided to resolve both his problems at once. As he passed the child, Nick tossed the rat which still had some stones in it towards the child. The child barely responded to the opportunity that landed several feet away from them. Twenty seconds later, Nick reached the edge of the boulevard, where the mega-cavern began, and where the lantern light stopped. A thug was still following him at this point. But Nick was not about to be robbed and murdered once more. No. The second he passed the threshold, he took off sprinting into the dark, angling off the path and into the rougher terrain of pocked stonework surrounding the town. The thug shouted and ran after Nick, but from the sounds of it, quickly stumbled. Nick felt like gloating, but he refused to risk it, instead heading once more towards the dungeon. He passed the toll-takers once more, this time with a nod from the female. ¡°Found some pants, aye?¡± ¡°Indeed,¡± Nick answered. ¡°Be sure to bring enough back up to pay this time.¡± After learning the current expected rates, Nick continued his descent. Privately, he wondered if it would be worthwhile to find the alternative dungeon entrance he had used before. There had to be several, considering the byzantine series of caverns and tunnels. Regardless though, he intended to remain down below for some time. Especially with the cost of the toll. Absorption 2.6.6.X.2.3 Absorption 2.6.6.X.2.3 Once more. Another dead rat. He felt the warmth from the corpses littering the tunnel around him. His arm burned as his godsmark warped his own body and mind. Normally, he failed to notice any single change, although he was already noticeably better able. However, this time, the burning lasted longer, he wiped the grime off his forearm to better examine the cause of the searing heat traveling beneath his skin, following his nerves, up his arm, up his spine, into the back of his head, before hitting him with a sudden migraine. An entire new hieroglyphic letter had imprinted itself upon his arm. Just as quickly as the pain came, it left. His migraine lifted. He blinked. Then blinked again. Normally, the changes were not so drastic, not nearly enough for him to identify any single thing to have changed. That was not the case this time. He gained a better sense of the dead around him, the small animal corpses. He could feel their location, feel an almost wire-frame model inside them in a new sense, or at least an increased clarity of a previous sense. But that was not all. There was an aspect to this sense that he could mentally flex. What that mental muscle did, he was unsure. This would require testing. With a partially skinned dead rat before his kneeling form, he tested the ability, flexing his sense of this wire-frame model resting within the same space that his eyes and hands told him occupied the rat. Something within the rat clicked¨Cshifting. Indeterminate. He flexed with more force. A rib sprung out from the dead rat. Inconclusive, but now that the rib was exposed to the air, his sense of it grew, the rib seemed to stand alone with its intensity in his new sense. His arm itched once more. His newest ability grew more powerful. The sense gained fidelity. He knew where the pores were within the bone, filled with marrow. More than that, he could shift the material, compressing it further, creating an almost plastic like material, if damp from the residual organic matter squeezing out from within. His godsmark had given him the ability to sense and manipulate bones. It was intuitive. Finally, he had a magic of his own. Opportunities and possibilities were opening up within his mind¡¯s eye. Still though, he was not ready to resurface from the dungeon. Days must have passed after this, but he was uncertain as to how many. His base needs were met by the dungeon, although he found his thirst parched and dry. He discovered that while uncomfortable, so long as he had access to the fleshy bits of the beasts he killed, that his body would sustain itself. An ancillary blessing was that he only seldom generated waste to void¡­ when that did happen, he was less than pleased. Even remembering that left him shuddering. During this time, he fought and killed and practiced his new skill. He grew in both ability and creating an arsenal of armaments. This included a crude set of armor, which was little more than a vest of thick plastene-like osseous material. He also created several javelins, a means to carry them on his back, and several knives to better aid in disassembling his kills. Blessedly, he also now had a bag to carry his gains. This bag was crafted from the flexible material, a mesh that almost served as a fabric. He still had to use his skill to flex the bag open and closed, but that was also a form of practice. When he finally filled this bag with Dungeon Stones and felt he had the means to defend himself, he ascended from the dungeon. He found himself taking the main route up, which almost all of the dungeon¡¯s forks spanned from. This took him to the toll collectors. He doubted his primitive bone implements would stand against the steel which the toll collectors armed themselves with. And the toll was not overly expensive, at least not compared to the price of fighting and possibly losing everything he had. So when they demanded a quarter of his profits, he paid. They laughed at the small size of the stones, but they reassured Nick that he would, ¡®get there¡¯ if he ¡®kept at it.¡¯ Nick rolled his eyes as he walked towards the town. If he had it his way, he would never need to descend the dungeon again. He could easily envision a market built around quality osseous implements. He would pay cheap labor to bring himself the material which he could then shape and sell. Eventually, he might be able to outsource the crafting as well. He was already picturing it. He could have lines of different thematic gear, depending on the carcasses brought in. Likely, he could imply that the gear kept some of the qualities of whatever beast it hailed from. If spun the right way, that could net him quite a bit of value for almost no cost. So when he reached the boulevard with markets and peddlers and various thugs and layabouts, he began to canvass the stores, to see what they had, and where a gap existed that he could insert his own goods. But the second he came near the boulevard, he began to feel it with his newest sense. There were bones everywhere. Of course, he knew there were bones everywhere, as there were plenty of people, but he could not feel the bones of still living creatures, he had tested that already. This meant that the bones were from something else. He followed one of the stronger beacons to this sense, and he arrived at a merchant, the very same he had first purchased pants from, and he checked over the merchant¡¯s stall. There were bone goods there. Some painted, some chipped, but they were there. ¡°Something catch your eye, Lich?¡± the old woman asked, somehow recognizing him. She followed his eyes and saw the sword he was looking at. ¡°Ah. You got the bone-craft? Not bad, bot rare either, but good in a pinch. Might turn into something better later on.¡± ¡°Pardon?¡± Nick asked, only catching half of what she said. There were bone goods here. And if his sense held true, then there were bone goods everywhere, already saturating the market. Gaining any space in this market would be very difficult, especially if he lacked a competitive advantage. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°One of those types then?¡± the old lady said, amused. ¡°I¡¯ll save ya some time. Keep focused on farmin¡¯ the dungeon. If ya do, eventually your bone-craftin might turn into skeleton raising, which will be better. Much better.¡± ¡°Do you think that¡¯s possible?¡± Nick asked, considering the advice. It was not too dissimilar from what his initial plans were, before he gained the ability to warp and shape bone. ¡°Sure. You know how your Mark works, yeah?¡± ¡°Indeed, I do.¡± Nick said confidently although he was aware of his own gaps in understanding. However, he wanted to avoid looking weak, and he doubted that this merchant would know more than him about his own godsmark. After this, he bought a few sundries and then found a tavern with a hoteling service. They had a bath, he checked. He purchased a room, still bartering with Dungeon Stones as he had yet to trust venturing further into the treacherous town. The cost was a bit higher as a result of the barter, but still manageable. For the first time in months, he bathed. Even with the soap and water, he still could not claim he felt clean. But after this, he purchased a meal and sat at the tavern¡¯s bar, listening to the conversations happening around him. After eavesdropping and eating actual real food with piss-ale that tasted divine, he came to a realization: these people were droll. They had formed an almost stagnant community based upon the earnings from the dungeon and the scraps that the wardens tossed in exchange for the stones. The fact that the community was this stagnant, when criminals openly roamed the street, was madness. In no way did this make sense to him, and he wasted most of the night attempting to unravel it. Surely there had to be a governing agent, which he assumed would be the wardens. But the wardens seldom left either the tower or the fortress, and so they were not the ones providing corrections. That would ordinarily have left a power vacuum, which would have ordinarily been filled by whoever was the strongest or the most charismatic, likely some gang leader, considering the circumstances. But other than the toll-takers and a few groups of thugs, there was nothing of the sort happening. It was towards the end of the night, while he was several cups in, that a heavy presence arrived and sat at the bar beside him. It was the toll-taker, the female one. The stool groaned under the weight and she groaned right there alongside it. She lifted her helm and set it on the counter before shaking out her damp and greasy hair. ¡°How you liking civilization?¡± she asked, not looking at Nick directly but asking him all the same. Nick considered how to play this. Having a friend among one of the stronger groups could be helpful, and while the woman had taken a large amount of his proceeds, he could not fault her for a working busines model. Especially not when he might take advantage of it. ¡°I¡¯ll stop you right there,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re not getting shit from me, no matter what.¡± ¡°Then why are you here?¡± Nick asked, ¡°If not to reach an amicable and mutually profitable arrangement?¡± She belched. The server put a pitcher sized tankard before her and she tossed several chits across the counter. ¡°Arrogant much?¡± she asked. ¡°Who says I¡¯m here for you.¡± Before Nick could respond, she went on. ¡°Nah, I like this one cuz it¡¯s the first one coming up that doesn¡¯t skimp on the pour. I saw ya, thought you could use a friendly face, but if not¡­¡± Nick gave her a once over. Her face had several scars and it looked like she might have had a cleft palate at some point. After considering her somewhat playful behavior, he decided to change tracks. ¡°Well, I would hardly call your face friendly, but you¡¯re welcome all the same.¡± She huffed at the joke, and her lips quirked upwards. Nick felt some relief that she took that the proper way. The risk had paid off. ¡°Yeah yeah. But I noticed you never answered the question. How you liking the town?¡± ¡°It could be better,¡± Nick said. ¡°But it will suffice, for now.¡± ¡°Until you get out?¡± she asked, amused. ¡°Or until you make it better? Maybe cut a deal with the wardens if you work hard?¡± He began to suspect she was mocking him. She took a deep pull from the tankard and ale ran down the sides of her chin. She sighed in relief after. ¡°Hits the spot, y¡¯know?¡± ¡°Indeed,¡± Nick said dryly. ¡°It seems that you may have opinions on the matter of freedom? Perhaps there have been attempts to escape, or barter for release?¡± ¡°Sure, lots of ¡®em. Most of ¡®em fail though.¡± ¡°Fail, how?¡± She smiled as she seemed to be laughing at an inside joke. ¡°Well, you¡¯ll see eventually. Lich, right?¡± He nodded slowly, uncomfortable with how many people were able to identify his godsmark so quickly. ¡°Thought so, most prolific. So, you wanna break out?¡± This was too good to be true. Nick suspected it was a trap. He suspected that this woman had come to dangle a possibility before him knowing that he was new, a mark, fresh meat of a sort. If he knew that it was bait, he could still take it, digest it, all while avoiding the hook. ¡°Perhaps I am. What do you offer?¡± She scoffed, ¡°I¡¯m not offering anything. But there is a way out. Most don¡¯t make it. It¡¯s almost legendary really. If they do make it, they never come back to share.¡± Nick nodded slowly, suspecting that this plan of hers would involve some high-risk gambit that would either profit her or amuse her. Or perhaps she wanted minions to aid her in her own gambit for freedom. It was too early to tell, exactly. ¡°Go on,¡± He said, prompting her for details. ¡°So, it¡¯s like this. You go down far enough in the dungeon, it meets up with everything else. Middens is hollow on the bottom, see?¡± She gestured with one flat hand over the bartop while she poked her fingers underneath it and waggeled them. ¡°All a mess. But not all of ¡®em are capped by the wardens.¡± ¡°How far down would one have to go?¡± Nick asked. She shrugged, ¡°Not sure, it changes anyways.¡± ¡°The caverns¡­ change?¡± Nick asked. He was unable to rule out the possibility entirely, but he had his doubts. ¡°Yeah, the mysts come in, drop the beasts off, then pull back. When they do things get mixed around. Like I showed you, the place is a mess.¡± ¡°How certain are you of this?¡± ¡°Very,¡± she said. ¡°I could confirm this with others?¡± He asked, already planning on doing so. ¡°Go ahead, they¡¯ll tell you the same.¡± The bartender returned and filled Nick¡¯s smaller tankard. While doing so, the bartender inserted himself into the conversation. ¡°She¡¯s right you know, everyone knows about the dungeon¡¯s bottom.¡± ¡°Then why have they not made an exodus?¡± he asked. He scoffed, and the woman smiled. ¡°What she didn¡¯t say is that the beasts get strong enough to even kill good teams, and if the mysts roll in while down there you¡¯ll get lost.¡± ¡°Lost, as in¡­ ?¡± Nick led off. ¡°Dunno. Could be anywhere. Maybe off a cliff, maybe in an ocean, maybe in some godslovin¡¯ land. Anywhere, really.¡± ¡°That sounds like a sure route to freedom, at least¡­¡± Nick, knowing he could regenerate from most things, was not overly worried about the risks. The bartender and the woman exchanged a knowing look, before the bartender shrugged. ¡°Your call bud, but if you come back naked, don¡¯t be expecting a handout.¡± ¡°Perhaps I could pay in advance?¡± Nick asked. The man shook his head, ¡°Nah, but if you head to the tower you can exchange for chits and deposit them.¡± ¡°Deposit¡­ as in a bank?¡± Nick asked, brightening up at the possibility of an actual fiscal system that could be used and abused. He wondered what their interest rates were, and if there was a market for either predatory loans or insurance. ¡°Yep. You could do that easy. Might wanna make a bit more first though. They got some ¡®fees¡¯ for service.¡± ¡°Ah.¡± Nick led off, nodding in consideration. The woman finished her tankard, burped, then got up and slapped Nick on the shoulder, jostling him enough to cause him to spill his own drink. ¡°Have fun with that,¡± she said. ¡°Heading down to the bottom, right?¡± she was smiling. ¡°Well, I shall confirm these rumors first¡­ but I am not adverse to some risk¡­¡± ¡°Especially if it¡¯s for freedom, yeah?¡± ¡°Indeed,¡± Nick said. The woman left, Nick retired to his rented room, and he dreamed of gaining independence once more. Even if descending to the bottom of the dungeon did kill him, it was not as though he would remain dead. That night, he came to his decision. Absorption 2.6.6.X.2.4-5 He descended further that next delve. He lacked the means to measure his depth, but he had long since passed the tunnels where simple rats subsisted off of scraps. The beasts were still rats, although they were even more misshapen than before, and much larger. The smallest came at the size of a small dog. The first pack he fought, he had been surprised by their weight and their ferocity. They appeared to have more cunning as well. He still killed them, but he had taken moderate injuries while doing so. Afterwards, it took him the better part of an hour to recover, and during that time he harvested his kills. The Dungeon Stones were larger, perhaps twice the size of the small pebbles that the lesser rats had carried. Even more exciting, at least to Nick, was the quality of their bones. They were larger, and the osseous material felt denser, responding more easily to his commands. He toyed with their spines and ribs, cleaning and merging each set into flexible bars for future crafting. He lost himself in the crafting, believing one place as secure as another. He lined the bars up lengthwise, and began to join them, although the joins still felt weak. As far as holding everything together though, it worked well enough, at least for carrying. The final assembly was almost as long as he was tall, and he thought it would make a fine spear, at least if he could strengthen it without making it too brittle. He was toying with different types of interlacing joints connecting the blocks when he heard voices. They were echoing from a branching tunnel above him. After pausing a moment, he shrugged it off and kept working to reinforce what was quickly becoming a partially segmented spear. He was playing with the idea of leaving several joints as hinges which he could exploit with his bone manipulation. But the echoes grew louder. He paused again, listening. He now heard individual syllables in their conversation. The direction they were coming from seemed a fraction brighter than before, though it was difficult to tell for certain. Still, there were several turns between him and them, by his estimation. Likely they would turn down a different passage¡­ but what if they kept heading towards him? He bit his lip in an uncharacteristic display of nerves. These louts were presumably criminals, sentenced to the penal-colony as they were, meaning they must have been the unsavory sort. If he caught them by surprise and ambushed them, there was a possibility he could come out ahead of a violent confrontation. However, there was just as much, if not more, possibility that he would fail. The potential gains failed to measure against the definite risks. He collected his bones and gear and fled further down into the dungeon. He had been planning to descend anyways, this just meant he took less of a break than he had intended. Several turns later, without any sign of the party, and without any further beasts encountered, he paused once more to finish his spear. He was unable to design a hinge joint that would be practical in combat, so instead he smoothed the osseous matter into a single piece, with nary a trace of the previous shape of the bones. With his new spear in hand, he continued his descent and soon encountered another pack of the mutant dog-things. This pack of beasts was composed of somewhat larger specimens. The spear strained and splinted during the fight. On the last of them, the spear bent as the beast snapped its jaws about the shaft, even as it impaled the beast. Nick held the broken shaft dumbfounded as the beast continued through to latch its teeth around Nick¡¯s chest and begin thrashing. It hurt, and it was startling to have his weapon break so suddenly, but that was not what caused him pause. Rather, it was a realization he had while the beast mauled him: Nick could feel the bones within the beast, the still living beast. A steak sized piece of meat tore from Nick before he snapped out of his reverie. The beast snarled, red mouthed and gristly, crouching to pounce. Nick reached out with that other-sense and felt the skeletal system within the beast¡­ he gripped and twisted. The beast yelped and spasmed, falling to the side and flailing, foamy vomit beginning at its mouth. He had not managed to move the bones by much, shifting the mass within each bone by fractions of an inch. But not much distance was required to ruin the beast. While the beast suffered its seizure, Nick continued to examine these bones, testing the limits of what he could manipulate within a still-living specimen. He wondered if he had always been able to do this, or if it was a recent development. Eventually, the beast perished, and Nick collected stones and the choicest bones. He repaired his spear, added to it, and then departed and continued to descend. The beasts grew in size and strangeness and the fights grew in difficulty. Despite this, his pace was not slowed, for he grew as well. He improved his bone-craft, making better weapons and armor, including boots, sabatons, greaves, skirt, and arm guards. After a troll-like creature tore his ear off, he added a helmet as well. He also practiced with his ability to warp the bones within a still living enemy. He found that this only occurred once his claimed material met an enemy''s skeleton. He likely spent days. Perhaps weeks. But eventually, his rate of growth slowed. His gains were either diminishing, or the improvements required more effort to achieve. This slowed his descent, but he remained without dismay. He considered that his needs were met, that he had abundant resources, and that he was still improving. It was not as though he would starve or die of thirst. It just took him longer to descend than it had before. Instead of choosing the most direct downward path, he pursued tangential side-paths that offered beasts of a similar scope. This became his purgatory. There was no sky and no means to keep track of the days gone past except for his own circadian rhythm, which seemed inconsistent at best. His body apparently regenerated from the damage that fatigue would otherwise cause. At least, he assumed his regeneration would account for it. Eventually though, a weakness began to form. Not terrible at first. More akin to standing up too quickly and feeling slightly light headed. He made note of it and continued his gradual descent. The further he progressed, the weaker he felt, and it was not merely in relation to his enemies. His hands had begun to tremble. He wondered if it was a psychological effect. He descended further. His chest ached and he felt short of breath. Enough time had passed that he was now very sure that the reason was external rather than him, and most certainly not because of some repressed traumatic experience or lack of social engagements. He reasoned that perhaps this deeping into the dungeon suffered from some form of invisible environmental hazard. Down he went, descending further, pushing past his weakness. Afterall, he could regenerate. Any problems would only be temporary at worst. The dizziness and vertigo became more prevalent. Oftentimes the tunnels seemed to be spinning about him. He found himself stumbling into walls as he went. He could not fight like this, not in this state. He paused, setting up an impromptu camp, bone stakes driven into the cracks of the stone ceiling and creating pitons for a makeshift hammock, well above what most creatures could reach. He rested there for some time, but the weakness did not abate. However, the weakness grew no worse than it already was. When it became apparent that he was not going to improve by waiting, he decided he was only wasting time by remaining where he was, and that descending further would be unwise. During the time that he had tried waiting the illness out, a suspicion had begun to form, and he decided to test it. He broke camp and began ascending. During this time, he avoided encounters wherever possible, keeping his growth constant. His experiment would be less conclusive if his godsmark grew while he ascended. He was growing famished and beginning to starve, he had been traveling for so long without fresh kills to eat. Days must have passed during this time. And despite his hunger¡­ the dizziness and vertigo ceased. His suspicions seemed well-founded and his ire was roused. He took his anger out upon a goblin-thing that he ambushed. The ascent continued and his trembling stopped. Then, the weakness began to lessen. By the time he had reached the level of the dungeon that produced dog-things, he had returned to a level of normalcy. While not proven, the evidence weighed heavily enough that he came to a conclusion, and this conclusion angered him greatly. He wanted to swear, he wanted to rage, he wanted to kill whoever it was that sentenced him to this pit without even a mockery of a trial. Even if a means of escape existed in the depths, he would be unable to reach them, as he had been somehow leashed to the penal colony. Stray too far and this weakness would grow and eventually incapacitate him. And while he could not be certain the means used to leash him, he suspected it was the gem that had been carved from his chest, his ¡®phylactery.¡¯ It was a complication to his eventual escape plans. If he were to find a means to escape, it would need to be through the fortress itself, where his gem was stored. That, or at least he would need to disable whatever means of control the warden of this prison used. Either way, he would need to return to the penal colony. Now that he knew he would need to return to town, he began to craft better armor, particularly a back and chestplate. He thickened his helmet and made a gorget. He had yet to find an adequate way to make the bone garments comfortable. He also made several knives meant for single use, sharp, thin, and brittle. He toyed with the idea of sneaking toxins into the pores of the material, but he had yet to find anything harvestable. Upon reaching the toll-takers at the top of the dungeon, he and they spent a moment in silence. His mouth was dry and his tongue ill-practiced for speech after so long by himself. He recognized the female though, and she recognized him. ¡°Heh, been a while,¡± she said. He nodded. ¡°Bet you got stronger too.¡± He nodded once more, still working at loosening his tongue. ¡°Think you¡¯re strong enough to get past us?¡± ¡°M-maybe,¡± he said, but as he said this, he tossed one of his larger Dungeon Stones her way. ¡°Good enough,¡± she said, before nodding him through. After a period of time spanning months, he finally returned to the penal-colony, all the richer in both resources and strength. He kept a hand on his spear and another on his reinforced bag of wealth. The hungry stares he felt from the town¡¯s denizens followed him. The tower stood out amidst the center of town. It lacked ornamentation, simply a bleak stone edifice marked with portholes and balconies from which shots could be fired down upon the town¡¯s residents. It was not the tallest building in town, but it was close. It stood all the more prominently as the field surrounding the tower was left open, populated only by transient stalls. The tower was also the only place that Dungeon Stones could be exchanged for chits, the local currency. In essence, the tower served as a money-exchange while also providing additional services. It was here that Nick traveled first, after arriving back in town. He did not pause along his journey, refusing to give any of the thugs a chance to close in or plan an ambush. His wariness paid off when he arrived at the tower without molestation. He reached the tower and was allowed to enter the bottom level. The fortifications were layered, and the stairs up to the next level were strongly guarded. The banking services were on the first floor, however, along with a shop and what looked like a tattoo artist. Nick ignored these alternative services, and exchanged his haul of Dungeon Stones. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. When he filled the counter-top with glowing stones of various sizes, the clerk¡¯s eyes widened a fraction. ¡°A good haul,¡± the clerk said. ¡°Probably should deposit most of it¡­¡± the clerk eyed Nick, ¡°you got an account?¡± Nick shook his head. ¡°Best to get one then.¡± ¡°And the interest rate?¡± The clerk laughed. ¡°No. But considering we don¡¯t rob you either, it¡¯s the best you¡¯ll get.¡± Nick considered this before deciding to open an account. When the clerk charged the fees for opening an account and making a deposit, he felt he was receiving karmic justice. In the end, he grit his teeth and bore it, opening an account and depositing most of his earnings. However, he did keep enough on his person to splurge, at least so far as the town could accommodate. He found one of the best inns near the tower, one that would provide private rooms with a bathing service. The price was exorbitant, but well worth it. He found his room and he found the tub. Interestingly enough, he could feel the tub through his bone-sense, although it felt resistant to change, as though it had been molded then set of its own volition. Likely, there were multiple craftsmen in the town with the ability to shape bone. It devalued his own skills. Before he stripped his armor and relaxed, he locked the door and then jammed it for good measure. From there, he stripped off his armor, took off his worn and torn trousers, brushed off the dried flecks of gore, and then he slipped into a lukewarm bath. He relaxed. As he closed his eyes, let his mind wander, he tried his best to avoid dwelling on the wrongs that the universe had laid upon him. This effort was moot. His entire situation was an accumulation of injustices, each threading into another, all the way back towards that entity claiming to be a god named Thanatos. He could not help but feel wistful for his previous life. He should have been able to look back at the silk sheets and gourmet meals and he should have been able to find solace there, at least in the sanctity of his own mind. But when he did think back, he remembered how stressful he had found it. Board meetings, negotiations, laboring to manipulate both his position and his portfolio¡­ he had been a CEO. He had found pride in his position, at least at the time. But he had been stressed. He had been obese. He had to dye his hair, and when it had begun falling out, he had sought vanity surgeons to make sure he looked the part. And then, there had been the protests against him and his company. The masses and have-nots had been riled up because of the way he had raised the price of insulin. The protests had turned violent, at times. It was madness, he had only been charging market-price for the medicine. The pharmacy was not a charity. It was his duty to improve the company¡¯s profits, and the loss of goodwill was more than made up for by the increased price on the inelastic goods. It was basic economics. Had he not done so, he would have been outed, and his successor would have done the same, if not worse. But then some idiot had to go and murder him. Probably one of the foolish protesters, upset at their powerlessness in a world where conglomerates behaved rationally. But, still¡­ a bomb? It had likely killed the other board members in the meeting with him. Such a waste. That should have been that, though. Just Nick slowly losing what made Nick Delaney Nick Delany. Ego death. A soul breaking down to dust. It sounded much more horrifying from the outside than it actually had been. When he had been there, in that place that defied any sense of continuity that he could understand, it had been numb, detached¡­ he had been fine with it. Looking back at it from where Nick now rested, soaking in a tub, he felt some horror at the apathy he had then felt while being whittled away to nothing. A part of him wished he had never been found by Thanatos. Nick was not one for religion, and certainly not for dead and old, anachronistic deities that his patron had pretended to be. The Greek god of death? Seriously. The idea made Nick scoff. And that was another thing: reincarnation. An utter waste of resources. Ludicrous. Nick had never consented to this, to being reborn, at least, he had never consented to it while of hale mind. When Thanatos had dragged his partially eroded soul into its realm, Nick may as well have been under the effects of strong narcotics. Coercing a binding agreement from Nick while in such a state would have never been legal, should never have been legal, and just went to show how little these deities cared for consent. Forcing Nick to agree to anything while he lacked his mental faculties¡­ It made him want to vomit, sick to his stomach. He forced these thoughts aside. Regardless of how he had gotten to this place, he was here now, and he could only affect what he could affect, and nothing more. He needed to look forward, towards plotting his freedom. In his current state, he had sufficient savings in his account to afford some liberties, such as taking stock of the town, its inhabitants, and the lay of the land. He expected there to be some hidden opportunities he could find with his prodigious experience in the marketplace. He splashed some water off of him, noticing the foul state of the bath water: murky with floating blobs and bits. Had he been that filthy? Gross. He finished scrubbing himself, but when he left the tub, he could in no way consider himself clean. Cleaner than when he had gone in, yes. But clean? No. That night, he slept in relative comfort. The next morning, he bought a meal in the common room and sat, listening as he ate. If he were to improve his station, then he needed to understand the nature of the land he was in. He would start with this penal-colony. Then, he would build up his capital and resources. Eventually, an opportunity for freedom would come, and then, he would seize it. He spent the day canvassing the main thoroughfare and the various markets. He made note of what was in demand, and what seemed to be in surplus. He made note of what the common people of the town bought and purchased. He was surprised to learn that the common inhabitant was not, in fact, a dungeon-diver. Most of the town had built up around a service industry based around the dungeon-divers, but most people were not active divers themselves. That was something he would have to think about later. One of the shops he passed, the very first he had visited, the one where he had been accosted by thugs, caught his eye. It was well off, affluent, and the shopkeeper seemed at ease despite the thugs loitering about. When Nick met the shop-keeper¡¯s eyes, the both exchanged a respectful nod. Nick refused to purchase from that awful store, even if the clerk acted amenable now. Nick continued researching the town¡¯s open market. After traveling the length of the market twice, he failed to find any obvious deficits. That is not to say he learned nothing. He noted that anything brought up from the dungeon was in surplus, and that anything brought down by the wardens was in demand. That was one opportunity right there, assuming he could find a way to either mimic or procure such items. After performing a day¡¯s worth of research, Nick decided to perform some necessary shopping for himself. Well, perhaps not necessary, but his armor chafed and was uncomfortable, and he had promised himself that he would resolve that particular issue, even if it was more of a secondary issue. So, he returned to one of the carts he had passed by earlier that day. It was a merchant selling certain textiles. Folded cloth of various thread counts and material, all drab gray or brown and lacking dye. He found the material that seemed the best insulator and the best padding, and he exchanged a substantial portion of his chits to buy it. He then bought spools of thread. He could make his own awls and needles. He also bought a spool of wire. While he could connect bones and reinforce osseous material, wiring would go along ways towards making a flexible set of armor, along with improving his ability to craft weapons. At least he suspected. He would need to try and see what worked best. That night, he returned to the tavern, purchased a meal and another night¡¯s stay, and he took another bath. He ended up cleaner than before, but still felt dirty and grimy. There was no soap available. He had forgotten to buy any. After taking time to line his armor with fabric, he decided that there was nothing else for him to do in town at the moment. Of course, he could have loitered about and attempted to learn something more, but he had to weigh that potential benefit for the time it would cost him, time that could be spent ¡®farming¡¯ the dungeon. It was still a marvel to him, the dungeon. The entire concept, just everything, was mad. Fantastical and insane. A penal-colony mining a dungeon full of beasts for the city built atop them all, as apparently the mega-cavern was immediately below Kwin, a capital city of whatever horrid empire claimed these lands. If he thought about it too much he would feel ill. As he descended, he exchanged cursory and brief greetings with the toll-takers, once again reminding himself to map out an alternative route. He descended into the dungeon once more. It became routine. He began tracking days by sessions spent in the dungeon. He would wake, eat, descend, fight, gain a marginal amount of strength, improve his skill, collect resources, ascend, and then repeat it all again the next day. Day after monotonous day. His savings account was growing heavy with a surplus of funds. He reinvested into gear and intelligence when he could, but he found that most expenditures were unnecessary. But this posed a problem. His money was not making money. The bank offered no form of interest rate or returns for his investment. In fact, they charged him for the safekeeping of his funds. He wanted a place where he could make his wealth work for him, but so far as he could tell, there was no formalized system of money-lending or investment. If he wanted to set up a business of predatory lending, he would need to provide his own accounting and leg-breakers. Considering the protection rackets currently in place, he doubted he could start this business without either an alliance with an existing gang or with extraordinary interest rates to account for the risk of debtor death or bankruptcy. He sought out other mechanisms that could improve his wealth. Currently the only reliable method he had was the dungeon. He could build a team, but then he would need to worry about backstabbing. He would also need to find suitable employees to hire, which was not an easy task. He also was reluctant to hire criminals, although he had little choice in that regard here. If he had to rely on the dungeon for wealth, and if he had to rely on solely himself, then he needed to invest his wealth in ways to increase his own power. Besides better gear, there were several options. All dubious for one reason or another. There were various chemical concoctions that could either temporarily or permanently enhance an individual. They were expensive, tightly controlled by the warden, and often came with side-effects. The more a person relied upon them, the worse those side-effects became. Especially for the permanent enhancements. Some individuals would take only a single enhancement, one for providing night-vision, and that person would gain night-vision, but also reptilian features, such as scales, claws on several fingers, and a loss of body-hair. Another would take an ¡®elixir of strength,¡¯ which caused bones to thicken and sometimes caused arthritis as well, although the person would also gain a substantial increase in strength. Apparently, elixirs of high quality would avoid such deviations, at least on the first time use. All bets were off on second time uses, even for elixirs of different types. Naturally, given the dubious nature of these elixirs, Nick decided to refrain from imbibing in them himself. Although he would consider paying for one for an employee, at least if he could be guaranteed that employee¡¯s loyalty. But besides elixirs, the only other means to permanently enhance or improve a person¡¯s ability in the dungeon would be to gain another ¡®sacred art,¡¯ or basically a magical tattoo, at least as Nick saw it. There was an artist that worked in the same building as the bank, and this artist also was always under guard, even more so than the savings vault. Nick perused the listing of available tattoos and their usual effects. The descriptions were rather lacking, but some of the names looked promising. He mainly wanted a means to enhance his greatest asset, his regeneration, which meant improving his body. This was fortunately the most common sort of tattoo offered. Still though, Nick hesitated to make such an investment. Something in his guts warned him against it. He mistrusted this archaic science, and he especially mistrusted the providers. He refrained from any permanent decisions and instead began a cursory investigation of people who had already received a ¡®sacred¡¯ tattoo. They were not always immediately identifiable, except in the case of several layabout thugs who went shirtless, despite the cavern¡¯s chill air. The thugs obviously were proud of their defacement, and they drew some form of status from them, which meant that the community at least somewhat recognized the tattoos efficacy. Furthermore, there was no immediate sign that these thugs had suffered for their tattoos, and they were confident enough in their strength to act brazenly within the penal-colony. That was a mark in favor of the tattoos. All signs pointed towards these tattoos as a method to reinvest into himself, increase his power, and put his money to work. But, still¡­ he remained dubious. He needed to learn more. He needed to observe those with tattoos to look for any low-level persistent problems or concerns. Having experience with the pharmaceutical industry, he was well aware of the deleterious long-term effects that might be difficult to observe. This brought him to another problem: he lacked the ability to wait around in town to observe these test subjects. He needed to purchase help, or hire an employee. There was one lout that came to mind. During these past few days, he had seen a starving child loitering in the alleyways. He suspected it was the very same one he had seen originally, however that seemed suspect, as Nick doubted any such individual would or could survive in such an abysmal state for such a long time. However, his observations were what they were. He went and sought out this pathetic individual and found the waif in one of the alleyways just off the thoroughfare. Along the way, Nick purchased several meat skewers, with bone used instead of wood. WIth this peace-offering, Nick sought out his potential employee and found them. The child was resting in the filth, under a layer of scraps of ruined and foul skins, was the child. A young boy, by Nick¡¯s estimation. Of course, the starving child¡¯s hungry eyes tracked the food, and while the lad was weak, he quickly seized on the meal and tore into it. Nick watched on while continuing to keep aware of his surroundings. He passed the rest of the skewers to the boy, one after another. When the boy finished, he gave Nick an overly and unwarranted look of suspicion. ¡°Why?¡± the boy said in a croaking and weak voice. Nick scoffed in offense.. ¡°Why indeed,¡± Nick said, before smoothing his expressions and attempting to reclaim an air of geniality. ¡°Is a reason required to help a soul in need?¡± The boy licked his painfully chapped lips. ¡°People¡­ like you, do.¡± the boy spoke haltingly. His neck throbbed slightly, a strange motion that was difficult to perceive beneath the layer of grime and rotten skins. Nick shrugged. The boy was not necessarily wrong. ¡°Well, in this case, I think we can both profit.¡± The boy continued to gaze upon Nick with suspicion. Nick pushed on. If this failed, he could always find some other piteous soul to hire. However, he thought he would continue with this boy until all Nick¡¯s tricks had been exhausted. ¡°FIrst,¡± Nick continued. ¡°Do you prefer food or chits?¡± Now, the boy looked confused. Off balance. A more neutral state than previously. ¡°Food¡­?¡± the boy said slowly, before nodding. ¡°Why?¡± Nick shrugged and gave a helpless smile. ¡°I find myself in need of assistance, and I am willing to pay for it.¡± Now the boy narrowed his eyes. ¡°What for?¡± ¡°Nothing too strenuous,¡± Nick said. ¡°Just, I need someone to keep an eye on a few people of interest.¡± ¡°Who?¡± the boy asked. ¡°Oh, nobody important, just those tattooed louts¨C¡± ¡°Tattoos?¡± the boy repeated, unsure of the basic term. Nick could have slapped himself, because of course he would make the mistake of alienating by using an unfamiliar term. Nick recovered by implying the mistake was his own. ¡°Sacred Marks, I suppose they are also called?¡± ¡°-the gangs¡­ you want me to spy¡­ on the gangs?!¡± the boy seemed to be curling in on himself and further away from Nick, towards the gloom of the alleyway, sinking into the filth. Nick was on the verge of losing the prospective hire, which would then also leave Nick vulnerable to the boy informing the thugs that Nick had been asking about them. Nick needed to salvage this quickly. Best to do that by acting ambivalent. So, Nick waffled his hand back and forth. ¡°No, not so much.¡± ¡°Then¡­¡± the boy trailed off, confused. Nick gave a grin, somewhat smug, but not too much so. ¡°Look, it¡¯s that I have questions around the Sacred Artist the wardens employ, and I just want some general observations about the work. It doesn¡¯t have to be anyone in particular.¡± ¡°So, not the gangs?¡± ¡°Not really. If you know someone else that has the markings, then feel free to watch them. I¡¯m looking for general observations here. Perfectly safe, and easily within the bounds of what you already do, sitting here along the main thoroughfare.¡± After a moment''s consideration, the boy agreed. Absorption 2.6.6.X.2.6 Absorption 2.6.6.X.2.6 Several days passed. Nick continued making investments into his newest potential hire. The trick was starting small, indebting the child through acts of kindness which would hopefully leave the boy compliant¡­ as well as help the boy grow healthy enough to be at least somewhat useful. The best part of these attempts was the fact that they were cheap, at least for him with his daily income. Soon, a week had passed. Thus far, there had been little to no return on investment from the boy. Nick decided it was time to begin pushing for more. Either to drive the boy away, or more realistically, to start receiving some sort of return. However, Nick was no brute. He would use both strategy and suave style, using the same skills that had served him through his long and storied corporate career. That day, Nick had brought a little more variety of food, including a bread bowl filled with a chunky gravy he had picked up at his inn¨Cthe chef there was quite talented, at least compared to the rest of this town. Of course, while Nick carried himself with pride, the boy was a savage. At least judging by how the boy was tearing into the gravy. Of course, Nick kept his criticisms silent, and instead shared a paternal smile with the youth. ¡°Is this your favorite so far?¡± Nick asked. The boy nodded, not quite vigorously, but more so than the usual muted movements he had. Nick wondered how far the bribery should extend and he considered inviting the boy back to the inn, but considering that Nick needed the boy here on the street in order to observe¡­ Nick decided against it. Perhaps in the future. ¡°You know,¡± Nick said as he watched the boy make a mess of the gravy. ¡°It occurs to me that we have never introduced ourselves.¡± ¡°Y-yeah?¡± the boy asked, speaking with a full mouth. Nick resisted the urge to grimace at the sight. He had seen much worse these past months. ¡°Indeed,¡± Nick said. ¡°My name is Nick Delaney, a¨C¡± ¡°-lich?¡± ¡°-well, I was going to say I''m a self-made entrepreneur, but I suppose that works as well.¡± Silence passed, almost awkwardly, although Nick ensured that he appeared unaffected by such concerns. After a suitable time passed, Nick prompted, ¡°You know, this would ordinarily be when you introduced yourself.¡± ¡°A-ah. Sorry,¡± the boy said.¡± Kirk. Name¡¯s Kirk.¡± ¡°And?¡± Nick prompted, hoping for a family name. However, the boy buried his head in his food, unwilling to share more. Nick let it slide, for the moment. ¡°Very well. Until tomorrow then. Our deal remains?¡± The boy nodded in agreement. The next day proceeded much the same. A routine delve, a slight amount of personal growth, and a return with a sackful of low to mid-tier ¡®loot.¡¯ The only deviation was when he brought another meal to the boy. This time, Nick brought a large roasted haunch of some beast. The haunch itself was perhaps the size of a man¡¯s arm. It had caught Nick¡¯s fancy as he was passing the stall, which led to its purchase. It was not overly expensive, compared to some of the other refinements that Nick had been purchasing for himself. It was this roasted haunch that Nick held before the boy. The boy¡¯s eyes widened. Drool leaked from the corner of the boy¡¯s mouth. He was looking healthier than when Nick had first come across the boy. The regular meals had been serving the boy well. Nick knew there was a risk that the boy would terminate the arrangement, as there were plentiful opportunities for savvy characters. Afterall, why would the boy continue to stew in misery when he could simply delve the dungeon for easy gains? It was with this knowledge that Nick began testing the boy¡¯s character. ¡°Greetings, Kurt. I hope the day finds you well.¡± Nick still held the haunch out and above the boy. The boy was distracted by the fat drizzling down the bone and onto Nick¡¯s hand. However, the boy was responsive enough to half wince at the name. ¡°Ah, it¡¯s Kirk. Sorry, sir.¡± Nick nodded, appreciative that the boy had spine enough to correct the misnomer. It also proved that the boy wished to continue the arrangement. Otherwise, why bother correcting Nick? ¡°Apologies,¡± Nick said with feigned sincerity. The boy winced again, but Nick ignored this. He handed the roasted and glazed haunch to the boy and watched on as the boy ravenously tore into the meat. Nick swore he could see the boy¡¯s face and throat distend in the process. Watching was both a fascinating and disturbing experience. No more than a minute later, and the boy was chewing on the bone itself. Nick then cleared his throat. ¡°This may be off topic,¡± Nick began. ¡°But how much can you eat?¡± ¡°Lots,¡± the boy said, finally taking a breath after sucking out the marrow of it. ¡°Just¡­¡± the boy grimaced in discomfort, ¡°lots. Leave it at that.¡± ¡°Very well,¡± Nick said with shrug. ¡°So, Kirk, have you seen anything of interest of late?¡± ¡°There¡¯s a new drop,¡± the boy said. ¡°As in a new prisoner?¡± Nick asked. He supposed he had never thought through the repopulation dynamics within the town and if inmates were sterilized or not, but he did believe that the number of new prisoners coming in would be great enough to not warrant any particular interest, unless they were unusual in some fashion. ¡°Anything about them?¡± The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°An elf. Heard some complaints.¡± ¡°An elf?¡± Nick repeated. He supposed he should not be overly surprised that multiple races existed. He had met that one purple animal person once, and then there had been the inquisitor with the wings. But that surprise aside, the locals should largely be used to these non-humans, and so having one in particular called out must mean something¡­ What that something was, Nick struggled to comprehend. ¡°What were these complaints in particular?¡± The boy shrugged. ¡°Heard he used magic on some folks.¡± ¡°What sort of magic?¡± Nick asked, feeling as though he was pulling teeth. Kirk shrugged again. Nick refrained from scowling, if barely. He missed the slight upturn to the boy¡¯s lips. ¡°Hm. And of the thugs?¡± ¡°Maybe not them, but you wanted dirt on the Marks?¡± ¡°The tattoos, yes.¡± The boy scoffed at the term but continued all the same. ¡°They¡¯re small time stuff. Not great.¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s something¡­¡± ¡°Wait,¡± the boy cut in. ¡°They¡¯re small-time, they waste slots, but they should cost lots more.¡± ¡°Lots more?¡± Nick frowned, musing out loud. ¡°Undercutting the market of an inelastic good? But why¡­ unless it¡¯s actually elastic? Or do the wardens get more for the subsidy¡­¡± Nick turned his full attention back to Kirk. The boy had a glazed look to him. ¡°Just how certain are you of this, and by what margin?¡± The boy shrugged. ¡°Pretty sure. Up top, nobody gets that many Marks. They¡¯d do it if they could. Even if they¡¯re weak. Something¡¯s better than nothing.¡± ¡°Huh.¡± Nick mused to himself, before shaking himself from his stupor. ¡°Well, Kurt¨C¡± ¡°-Kirk¨C¡± ¡°-that¡¯s what I said. I have another question for you.¡± The boy grunted and waved the bone at Nick to continue. ¡°You clearly favor meat¡­ Does it need to be cooked?¡± ¡°Nnnno?¡± Another day, another hunt, though this time Nick deviated while still in the middle levels. He killed a beast by crushing its ribs, leaving an intact carcass of a thirty pound beast. Nick harvested the rest of his kills but spared this specific carcass, which he then carried up from the depths. The toll-takers seemed amused by the addition, but the toll remained the same and Nick otherwise ignored them. He no longer felt the imperative to find an alternative route. The tax was not so burdensome to require an immediate effort on his part. A part of him acknowledged that this was a frivolous waste of future profits and that this was how people became poor. He pushed those thoughts aside. This day, before he traveled to the tower to make a deposit, he tossed the carcass to the boy, Kirk. Kirk seemed beside himself as the carcass slid across the grimey ground and Nick left with an amused smirk. It was both a good deed and an investment in the child. Besides, Nick was interested to see what the boy would make of it. After the tower, Nick purchased a few sundries that the boy might require, such as a knife and a travel-kit, and Nick also purchased a few compressed rations, along with a semi-fresh loaf of bread crafted from a flour-substitute that Nick was advised to not investigate. It was with these goods that Nick returned to the boy, to find the carcass heavily mauled and Kirk covered in smeared blood and offal. The boy¡¯s fingers were talons and his lips stretched farther than a mouth should¡­ and his teeth were sharp. Nick forgot himself and paused at the entrance to the alleyway, almost dropping his armful of goods. The boy waved at Nick and flashed a smile before tearing back into the carcass. Nick shook himself from his embarrassing reaction and decided to simply set the gifts down besides the boy before leaving. ¡°We¡¯ll chat later,¡± Nick said as he left, somewhat hastily. Nick spent that night and the next day thinking about what he had seen. Truthfully, besides the shocking appearance, the boy¡¯s ability to morph his own body had little bearing on Nick. Well, that was not completely true. The boy could be an incredible asset, depending on how far those abilities stretched. Nick would be smart to ensure the boy¡¯s loyalty, perhaps going so far as making the boy a lesser partner in Nick¡¯s dealing, assuming such a formalized thing was available. With this in mind, Nick once more returned to the town, once more carrying a carcass, much the same as the day before. This time, Nick deposited the carcass besides the boy, and Nick did not immediately leave. When the boy reached for the carcass with a longer arm than the day before, Nick cleared his throat. The boy paused, then glanced up at Nick. Nick truly took the time to observe the child, and the child¡¯s circumstances. One question really bothered NIck, and that was why the boy had been living in squalor, when the boy obviously had means and ability. Of course, Nick could not simply ask this question, as it would likely be perceived as rude. Instead, Nick made a note of the surroundings. ¡°Where¡¯d the rest of the last carcass end up?¡± Nick asked. The boy shrugged, still reaching for the carcass with a hungry focus. ¡°A bottomless pit, truly. Is this part of your ability?¡± The boy shrugged then nodded but was otherwise unforthcoming. Nick gave up and rolled his eyes in exasperation. ¡°Fine then, eat. But I have questions that I would like answered, or at the very least considered.¡± The boy¡¯s lips quirked upwards, and this time Nick did catch it. ¡°Ugh. Of course this amuses you,¡± Nick grumbled, before finding a spot opposite to Kirk and leaning against the wall. Nick watched the boy tear handfuls of flesh from the carcass and shove them in his mouth. The boy¡¯s flesh was warping as this occurred, gaining a pinkish hue and filling out. ¡°I will say that you¡¯re looking much healthier than when I first laid eyes upon you.¡± The boy nodded while he ate. The ripping sounds and popping from ligaments displaced was truly something. Nick felt the smaller bones up until they crossed the boy¡¯s lips, from whence they disappeared. Out of everything, that was the most disturbing, at least to Nick. Several minutes later, and the boy began slowing down. ¡°Now can we talk?¡± ¡°Sure sure,¡± the boy said, before his stomach rumbled, not in hunger, but in digestion. ¡°Sorry.¡± ¡°Hm. Now, what can you share regarding the tattoos, and what have you learned or heard otherwise that might be of import?¡± Most of the happenings were inane, but there was one piece of import. ¡°-Right,¡± the boy said. ¡°Remember the elf? Guess some thugs took issue with his magic and somehow managed to corner him near the tower. Wasn¡¯t lookin¡¯ good for ¡®im, until some wardens told the blokes to clear out. Ordinarily, woulda thought they¡¯d find the elf later and teach him a lesson, yeah? But that¡¯s not what happened. They had another confrontation but they let him go. They lost some face, from what I heard.¡± ¡°Remarkable¡­¡± Nick said, mind abuzz with reasons for why this might have happened. ¡°The wardens told the thugs to stop attacking the elf?¡± The boy nodded. ¡°And they listened, which on it¡¯s own is not that impressive. But the fact that they refrained from murdering the elf later¡­ even though it left them looking weak? ¡­¡± It was very interesting indeed. ¡°Do you think the elf used his magic to escape this comempunce?¡± The boy shrugged. ¡°Dunno, but it¡¯d be impressive if he did. There were quite a few of ¡®em to use it on.¡± After some consideration, Nick latched onto an idea he had been playing with in the back of his mind. ¡°Keep your ears open for where the elf can be found.¡± ¡°Really?¡± the boy asked, seeming surprised. ¡°You know elves, yeah?¡± Nick scuffed, undaunted by whatever prejudice the boy had in mind, and instead continued to carry out his plan. ¡°Say, Kurt¨C¡± ¡°-it¡¯s Kirk!¡± ¡°-how do you feel about moving in to an inn?¡± ¡°Uhm¡­ why?¡± ¡°Presentation?¡± ¡°Ugh. Not taking a bath, if that¡¯s what you mean.¡± ¡°Afraid of some water, then?¡± ¡°S¡¯not the water,¡± the boy shuffled where he sat. ¡°It¡¯s the soap¡­¡±