I owneth not.

Takes place approximately a month after Theft and Broken. Dika is 16, Iason 11. Brutus is somewhere in the realm of 35 and Alfredos is an ageless being of infinite wisdom and might.

Series Warnings can be found in Images, the first story.


Somehow, over the last month, as he helped The Bat capture the ring of thieves he has come to…not trust him. Not completely. But, despite himself, despite the fact that he knows better he almost feels safe with him. That does not ease the fear that grips him as he fidgets behind the Knight on the horse, rather, it paradoxically increases it.

The Dark Knight is taking him home. His mind whirls between unease over his situation and curiosity over where The Bat lives. He's noble, or he wouldn't be able to afford the arms and armor he bears. He doesn't live in the city either, they left the muted lights of Gotham City behind long ago and are headed into the hills, where many of Gotham's nobility have their grand estates.

The Bat is not following the road, striking out across-country, over low stone walls and through so many woods and twisting turns that Iason, who has never before set foot outside the city walls, has become hopelessly lost.

It must be nearly an hour before they take a sharp turn and Iason can't help but give a shout as the horse's hooves leave the ground and they leap through a waterfall that appeared out of nowhere and into a cave. He shivers, the jump has left him damp which, combined with the chill of the air in the cave has him wishing for a warm fire and blankets. They leave the first cavern and enter an adjacent one that is even bigger than the first. Iason gapes up at the black pit where the ceiling should be. It is like looking into the sky on a night without stars, there seems to be no end to the darkness above.

As they trot into a corner set up as an underground stable and The Bat lowers him from the horse's back, he catches sight of many strange things. A suit of armor with weird devices attached, a great statue of a dragon so large that Iason cannot figure how it was transported down here, what looks like a penny-piece but is as long as three or four men are tall, a key as long as his arms can reach, inlaid with gems that twinkle in the low torchlight of the cavern. A great map covers nearly the entirety of one wall. Though he can't read well, Iason can make out enough to know it is a map of the Islands, so large that there is a detailed map of the City within it.

"Welcome home, my lord."

Iason startles at the unexpected voice behind him and whirls into a crouch, staring warily up at the regal old man who frowned down at him before turning to The Bat who was striding towards an armor rack set in an alcove.

"And who is this, my lord."

He sounds very disapproving. Stands like it too, very stiff, with his hands folded behind him. As he turns to follow The Batm's progress across the cave Iason catches the dull glint of metal at his wrist, not quite hidden by his sleeve.

The wall is dry, he notes absently, he'd expected to have damp soaking through the back of his ragged tunic by now, as hard as he is pressed against the rough stone.

"That is Iason." The Bat says, his voice sounding different, less rough, more like a man than a monster from the Pit. "Iason, Alfredos. He is steward of the estate."He pulls the hood from his head and cape from his shoulders and Iason watches in mingled fascination and terror as he turns around.

He is younger than Iason would have thought, though the lines on his face add some age it seems artificial, the result of experience rather than years. He is also familiar, Iason stares at the man's face, willing himself to remember where he's seen him before.

Gradually, a memory comes back to him. It'd been a festival day and he'd been taking advantage of the crowds to cut a few purses. In the evening there had been speeches from some of the merchants and nobility. Including a speech made by...

His eyes widen and he stares at the man in front of him. "You're Lord Varius!"

The lord, last descendant of the ancient princes of Gotham and it's islands, nods, his face betraying no emotion. "I am." He continues removing his strange armor with some assistance from the steward, placing it upon the stand until he stands in only his undershirt and breeches. He drops a tapestry, emblazoned with a large bat, over the alcove, concealing it from view.

Iason glances speculatively at the wall beside the bat tapestry, which is similarly covered though the second hanging depicts a small, colorful bird in flight. It doesn't take any great intelligence to understand what has to be behind that one.

The old man clears his throat. "My lord?"

Lord Varius looks up from the dagger he is inspecting. "Take Iason upstairs and settle him in. I shall be up shortly."

The steward gives a little cough, still giving off an air of disapproval. "Of course my lord. What room shall I give him?"

Varius stiffens and Iason tenses in response. He doesn't know why that is a touchy subject, but if the lord is going to get angry then he wants to be ready to get out of the way.

"The northern terrace chamber." Varius growls out, sounding almost exactly the way he does as The Batman.

"Yes my Lord." The old man gives a low, dignified bow before turning towards a winding staircase that disappears upwards. Iason follows after one last glance at The Bat, Lord Varius, who never looks away from the papyrus he is writing upon. Iason tries to convince himself that the man's disregard doesn't hurt, that it is actually a good thing, and hurries to catch up to Alfredos, following on his heels up the circular staircase for so long he thinks his legs might fall off. They finally come to a sudden stop in front of what appears to be a blank wall until the steward places the palm of his hand flat upon it. Something in the air shivers, making Iason's skin crawl. Alfredos, his hand still laid upon the wall, offers Iason a bow like he's a lord or something himself. Can this night get any weirder?

"If you would." He gestures for Iason to walk forward.

Iason gives him a sideways look. "There is a wall there."

He has to be imagining the twinkle in the old man's eye. "You will find, sir, that things are not always as they may seem." and again he motions towards the wall.

Obviously he's off his nut, but Iason might as well humor him. He does work for the single most powerful man on the Islands after all. He resigns himself to looking stupid and takes a step forward, then another, his hand held out in front and going to bump into the wall any minute now-holy shit! he jerks his hand back and stares wide-eyed at the wall that his hand had gone through like it wasn't even there. Of course Varius has magic in his cave, he's rich enough.

"Sir." There is absolutely no emotion in the old man's tone, but Iason can't shake the feeling that he's being laughed at. He grits his teeth and walks through the wall.