Halkegenia Online v2.0 - Chapter 9 Part 2
For a bunch of newbies with almost no law enforcement or legal experience to speak of, the volunteers of the Arrun City watch had nevertheless wasted astonishingly little time in installing themselves as a clear and visible symbol of authority. And for the most part, Argo mused, it had worked.
People were coming to accept this world and their changed selves as reality, and with reality came all of the normal expectations. Going to work every morning was normal. Hanging out with friends was normal. Police were normal. So it hadn't really been that hard for the Watch to fill that gap in what people expected to see when they were walking the streets.
Professional looking Fae in highly visible dusters, armed with, swords, staffs, paralysis darts, and an arsenal of binding and debuff magic, were at once an imposing ans reassuring sight. More importantly, each Watch Officer prominently displayed a numbered badge marked with the Arrun City Crest, a clear reminder that these were the police and they were here to enforce public order.
Appearances extended even further than that though. If you were going to have police, you needed a police HQ.
In the far off early days of weeks ago, someone who had ended up highly placed in what would become Watch had commandeered a martial looking Guild Hall on the corner of Arrun's main roadway where it fed into the square at the base of Arrun Tower. Since then, Watch Headquarters had become the place to come about disputes, lost items, thefts, or to pick up a friend who'd gotten themselves into trouble and been put in a cell to cool their heads.
Argo leaned up against a wall, Suisen on her shoulder replicating the gesture, outside of the questioning room. Or as Argo liked to think of it, the torture chamber. It was as good a name as any, after all, Rio would have probably preferred hell to what was happening to him now. She could almost make out his muted cursing on the far side of the door and it was enough to warm her blackened little heart.
There had been some major changes to the interior over the past month, Argo noted all of the desks, some occupied by watch officers. Posters with hand written instructions reminding officers of basic watch protocol had been put up on every available surface. And iron bars had been installed in all of the windows, not enough to stop a dedicated miscreant, and it wouldn't even slow down a strong Mage, but sufficient to deter petty vandalism, breaking and entering, or breaking and leaving.
Now that was going to be a problem. People like Rio and his guild were essentially cowards and were liable to do as they were told, albeit petulantly, once caught. The same went with most of the troublemakers the Watch had been dealing with. Petty thieves, bored kids, and the occasional drunk who had acquired enough alcohol to get more than buzzed.
But what would they do with Jack? Argo grimaced. That was, if he let himself be taken alive. A high level Fae with all of the strength and powerful magic that implied would be almost impossible to contain safely. There were single target spells that could be used to keep his mana pool drained, or maybe the Puca Song of Silence, but they would have to be applied constantly to prevent an opening. Short of binding him in chains and cutting out his tongue . . .
"Argo."
Suisen gave an indignant "Ba!" as Argo stood erect, nearly falling from her perch before regaining her balance with a flutter of her wings. Ears cocking, the info broker was shaken from her morbid thoughts by the return of Detective Jensen. Noticing the cup of hot tea in his hand, she snickered under her breath.
"What is it now?" The man grumbled suspiciously.
She answered back with a close eyed smile. "I was just thinking that Jen-kun really tries to look like a cop."
"Uh, that would be because I am a cop." The Undine rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his mug and then grimacing at the taste.
"Bad?" Argo asked.
"Nasty." He set the cup down on a nearby desk, conveniently making it someone else's problem. "Going to have to have a talk with the newbies who brewed it. So, ready?"
Argo bit off a curse. Being dragged down here and confined to a guarded basement cell, prodded with questions while his Guild Hall was ransacked by the Watch. Rio had not been a happy Sylph. An unhappy Sylph, was not a cooperative Sylph. And an uncooperative Sylph did not spit out much useful info, even under the intensive grilling that Jensen had dished out.
"How can he be this stupid sa?" Argo muttered under her breath, pearing through the iron barred glass. Rio was inside, seated at the rooms solitary table, a pair of Officers keeping an eye on him.
He had been making things difficult despite how close he had come to losing his head and the mountain of evidence leveled against him and his guild. Rio had finally learned to keep his mouth shut, and at the very worst time. Every question was met by the same stoicism, forcing Argo and Jensen to go about it the hard way, questioning the other members of the ABC one by one to fill in the blanks left by the hard evidence, the ones they could find anyways.
Publicly detaining a guild leader and seizing materials from within his Guild Hall was an unprecedented event and news of the arrests had spread quickly. Most of the Guild had come along peacefully, they were trolls, but underneath the facade they were ordinary people, mostly. But there were still a few unaccounted for, guild members that were close to Rio and most likely to be part of his inner circle.
That in itself was alarming, but the fact that nobody else other than Rio had a complete picture of how the vandalism of Arrun Tower had been performed spoke of a level of compartmentalization that Argo hadn't believed the Sylph was capable of. Or rather, that he would have the foresight to set up. Either he was a lot more devious than anyone but Mort had given him credit for, or he was being turned into someone's scapegoat. Given what she'd seen of him so far, Argo was inclined to believe the latter.
Jensen had really shown his credentials teasing info out of the other Guild Members while Argo put the pieces together, but even his patience had worn thin with the Guild Leader himself. Either Rio was calling their bluff, or he really was that stupid.
Her eyes turned to the Undine standing impatiently beside her. Sans sunglasses, the bags under his eyes were a reminder of just how little sleep either of them had managed to get. Argo stifled a yawn. When had she last slept? Sometime last night, she'd sat down to rest her eyes, just for a few minutes. When she'd opened them again, sunlight had been spilling through the window and Suisen was complaining about being hungry again. Now it was already early evening, a whole day spent sustained by strong tea, finger sandwiches, and catnaps.
The end result was that, a little over twenty four hours after his Arrest, Rio was still sitting inside of Watch HQ under constant guard while the Argo and Jensen had a half completed picture of the vandalism and no leads to how Rio had managed to learn a thing about Rip Jack.
Jensen raised an eyebrow. "You of all people really have to ask that question?"
Argo decided not to make the smart retort she'd been planning, a shame, because it had been a really smart retort composed of all the bile and cynicism she'd been holding in for the last few days. No, she didn't need to be told why someone like Rio didn't crack like an egg. She watched him through the glass from the corner of her eye.
Rio was an idiot, but that wasn't all. He was a prideful little troll and wasn't going to admit that he'd gotten help from anyone.
'Prideful.' She turned that over in her head. Maybe it was time for a new strategy. They'd been slamming their heads against Rio's thick skull for the last day, alternating interviews with the other Guild Members before coming back to try and crack him with the new info they'd uncovered. Good cop, bad cop, offering him a deal if he told them what he knew, even teasing apart what they had learned and making it look like they knew more. It had gotten a rise a few times, but Rio had held his tongue. Maybe they could loosen him up a bit with that pride of his instead.
"I think I'm ready. And I've got an idea," she nodded to Jensen, "If you'll follow my lead that tis."
"Can't say I'm crazy about it." Jensen admitted with a small shrug. "But I'm running out of ideas here, so whatever you've got in mind, sure."
"We're going to have to tip our hand." Argo warned, whatever happened, Jensen needed to walk into this eyes open for it to work, they'd have to show a united front.
For an instant the Cop hesitated, she could practically hear the gears turning, waiting patiently for his answer. "He either already knows, in which case . . ." Jensen trailed off, in which case there was no harm done, and also, Rio became a whole lot more sinister. The Undine shook his head. " . . . or telling him might tell us something new."
"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping for." She explained what she had in mind, the plan receiving a small nod of agreement from Jensen before knocking at the door and entering the room.
Rio looked up as soon as they stepped through the door, his expression twisting into a scowl as he saw them both. Wasting all that energy being angry at them couldn't possible be good for his health. And after all that they had done had been to catch him in the act of a crime. Typical troll.
Jensen dismissed the other officers, instructing them to lock the door behind them and keep watch from outside. Then, the Detective's attitude completely changed. Slipping his sunglasses back on, Jensen dropped the look of exhaustion, he swaggered like a cop out of an old American crime drama.
"Mind if we take a seat?" Jensen asked Rio, gesturing to the two chairs opposite him. The Sylph shot the Undine a withering glare. "Yeah, we're going to take a seat." Jensen continued, offering Argo the first chair before taking his own, setting elbows down on the table top. "So, Rio, how have the watch accommodations been treating you? You get a comfy pillow?"
"Between you and your thugs," Rio growled, "I've been in here all night. My guild hall is a wreck, my guild is a laughing stock. Even if I'd been left alone long enough to sleep I would have been up all night in your miserable prison cell."
"Well that tis a shame." Argo decided loudly, reaching into her pocket for some sunflower seeds. She handed one off to Suisen as a snack and then popped another into her mouth. "We got lots of rest in our own beds last night. Real warm and comfy and everything. But I guess no rest for wicked nyeh?"
He shot Argo an incredulous look, snorting in disgust.
"Look Rio-san, you're the only one who is making this difficult, you can be out of here in less than an hour and on your way with the rest of your guild if you'll just cooperate. All we need from you is some information." Jensen said, leaning over the table. "We just want to know who told you about Rip-Jack so we can plug a leak. No big deal."
Rio replied with the same stony silence that he'd fallen back on for the past day. Argo had to suppress the urge to simply claw him until he gave them an answer. Instead, she tapped one sharp nail against the table surface as she waited for the right time to strike.
"Otherwise," Jensen went on, "When we figure this out, and we will figure this out, it really isn't going to be looking very good for you. It'll be interfering with an ongoing investigation, and possibly conspiracy to commit murder."
The Sylphs eyes widened and then narrowed in anger. "Is this how the Watch is going to work? Intimidating people into confessions?! I haven't done anything!"
"Maybe." Jensen admitted. "Then again, maybe not. You know, getting all those supplies together and then moving them up to the top of Arrun tower without being seen must have been pretty tough. How did it work again?"
"The paint came from the new maintenance yard." Argo ticked off. The disappearance of almost two hundred pounds of paint powder hadn't gone without notice, but with everything else that was happening, no one had bothered to do more than a cursory investigation. After the banner had been unfurled on top of Arrun tower it had been pretty obvious in retrospect.
"And the canvas was from an old schooner sail." Jensen added. "Which is interesting because we don't have any of those, which means they were stolen from outside of the cities." The detective fished a small notebook from his pocket and flipped to the last page. "Interesting thing is, people keep track of when things like that go missing. We sent some officers to ask around the nearby towns, so we know it was a worn out spare that was going to be cut up for other purposes."
"That sail must have been really heavy to haul all the way here. Rio-kun must have lots of friends who helped him out." Argo agreed. "Of course, once you got to the waterways it was probably pretty easy. You just had to wrestle it through the underground until you reached the spot right under your Guild Hall." The large trap door beneath the ABC Guild Hall which lead directly into the sewers and the very same waterway that fed Arrun tower.
"And of course from there you just had to haul it all the way to the tower and in through the underground arcade." Jensen said. "Then you hoisted the sail up through a vent shaft in the middle of the night."
The interior of Arrun tower might have been well guarded, but prior to the vandalism, nobody had thought to keep regular watch on the exterior, especially late at night. Once the canvas had been brought up onto the roof they would have had all the time in the world to make it ready for the following morning.
"Then all you'd have to do is cut the lines and run." Argo finished triumphantly. "Actually, it tis a really smart plan. I'm impressed Rio-kun could put it together."
"All that proves is that we vandalized the damn tower." Rio grunted. "Because that's all we did!"
"But that's not all you did." Jensen said darkly. "Lets look this over again. You stole paint from the city maintenance yard. You stole a sail from a warehouse in a Tristanian Market Town, you got both back to your Guild Hall without a soul being the wiser . . . And then you managed to get the whole thing up on top of Arrun tower without being seen." He shook his head. "I've seen the kind of pranks your guild gets up to. No way did you guys do that all on your own, not with that banner in tow. Which means you had help from someone, and I bet whoever it was told you about Rip Jack too."
Rio's nostrils flared as he half rose from his seat. "How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not working with that psycho!" The Sylph seethed as he settled back down.
"If that's true, then you shouldn't have any trouble telling us who told you." Jensen pushed. "Otherwise, it's going to be real hard to keep believing you. And seeing as a couple of your guild members are still at large, it's only going to get harder."
"Perhaps if the Watch hadn't decided on mass arrests, my people wouldn't feel the need to go to ground." Rio gritted out through clenched teeth. Argo was impressed, that sort of indignation was usually reserved for people who hadn't done anything wrong. It also appeared to be the last straw for Jensen.
Hands slamming flat against the table, the Undine stood slowly to his not inconsiderable height. Tall enough that Argo only came up to his chest. "Then I'm forced to conclude that you're a complete idiot."
That finally wiped the undeserved look off of Rio's face. The Sylph was left agape, mouth opening and closing stupidly like a fish sucking air. Argo would have given anything to have been able to take a screen cap at that moment.
"I'll level with you. The crap you and your guild has been doing. I worked in Ikebukuro and even my old department wouldn't have put up with this sort of crap. If it were up to me, you'd be sitting in a jail cell for the next three months. If you'd managed to spread those stupid ass leaflets, there was a small but real chance that you could have been executed for insulting the Crown. How would you explain that one to your Guild?"
"I know what the treaty says . . ." Rio tried to butt back in. Jensen didn't let him.
"Which is the only reason you're talking to us right now rather than Lord Richmond. Unlike him, we're forgiving people. Tell us what we want to know and you walk out of here with vandalism charges. It'll ruin your reputation, but we'll overlook the thefts and any conspiracy charges."
Rio was listening now, his lips trembled as if he was torn between speaking and holding his tongue. Now it was Argo's turn.
"Fu fu fu. Rio-kun has gotten himself into a lot of trouble because of his clever plan." She let that statement hung in the air, relishing the futile anger. "But the really clever one tis the person who helped you out."
Rio blinked quickly, looking from side to side, it was like a switch had just been flipped, like he'd just woken up from a trance. "And just what is that supposed to mean?" He asked angrily.
"It means, whoever told you about Jack probably knew you'd blab your mouth about his connection to Mort-kun." Argo crossed her arms triumphantly. "And don't tell you already knew. That isn't very common info." She shook her head, ears flattening to the sides. "I take it back, Rio-kun isn't very clever. He's the one who got duped into being a scape goat."
"A scape goat?" The Sylph squeaked out. "I'm not a damn scape goat! I'm . . . not . . ."
"Looks that way to me sa!" Argo smiled. "You absolutely hate Sakuya and everyone else who's in charge and everyone knows it. The murders gave you a tow hold on legitimacy, which you blew like and idiot. You knew about Jack at the most convenient time. You couldn't be better set up to take the fall if you tried." Argo stopped dead as she noticed the look in Rio's eyes. With every point she had ticked off, he had lost a little more of his fire, a little more of the undeserved anger. Now, he looked more empty and defeated than anything else.
"But you already knew that sa . . ." Now it was starting to make sense. She'd known he was prideful. But was Rio really that proud?
"Argo?" Jensen looked over to her. This hadn't been part of the script they'd agreed on. Time for some improve.
"Rio-san." Argo said carefully. She wasn't speaking sharply now, that wasn't going to get her anyplace with him like this. "Rio-san, you know you've been played don't you?"
The Sylph didn't look up, didn't look at anything really, he just looked like he wanted to sink through his chair and get to work on his own funeral.
Jensen finally caught on, following her lead. "Rio-san. You've been had, you have to know that. Why aren't you cooperating with us? You can save yourself."
"Save myself?" Rio whispered under his breath. "No . . . there isn't anything . . . there's nothing." But he didn't sound so sure.
"Even after all of this, your guild still looks up to you." Argo observed. "But that won't last if this comes out."
Despite the trouble they were in, Rio still commanded their respect. The ABC were all of like mind, a collection of people who were inarticulately angry at what had happened and so clung together around a charismatic leader. Even jailing them all hadn't been enough to break their loyalty.
But how many would forgive Rio if they learned he was just a mouthpiece? The little bit of influence he'd gathered would be snatched away in a heartbeat. There were people who would rather die than see that happen.
"Don't you get it." Jensen raised his voice. "You're still being used right now. Whoever told you about Rip Jack must have a connection to the murders and must have had a reason to tell you. They're counting on you not talking. They're counting on everything your doing right now!"
"B-but my Guild! -"
"We couldn't care less about your Guild!" Argo said, she wasn't as intimidating as the Undine at her side, but a Cait stretching across a table was threatening in her own way. "We have every reason to think that Rip is involved with something big, something that threatens the whole treaty, and it could boil over at any time now. There's a lot more on the line than just your Guild nyah!"
Rio was rocked back in his seat, the effect couldn't have been more profound if Argo had slapped him. Good, that was what she had been aiming for. She hadn't expected him to just sit there wide eyed. "No, Rip . . . he's just some psycho isn't he? I just thought . . ."
"Look." Jensen finished. "You've got a choice right now Rio. You can say nothing, and keep being used. Maybe the truth will come out, maybe it won't. Or you can cut the strings yourself right now. I'm not in your guild, but I know what sort of Leader I'd like to follow."
The Sylph blinked, looked down at his hands. He was silent as he pinched at the skin between his thumb and index finger. "I didn't want it to turn out this way. I thought I could make everyone see. It's just . . . everyone is too in love with this!" He looked up accusingly. "Sakuya and the others, they're leading us right into this! How can everyone be okay . . . okay with sending people to die for a bunch of inbred tyrants!"
It looked like Rio was going to gain steam for another tirade, but then he began to wind down again. "Why do things have to be this damn way? Why do we have to meddle? Why can't we just be left alone?"
"The fly asks the spider the same thing ba." Suisen said, hopping down from Argo's shoulder, she walked the short space to the opposite side of the table and planted her hands on Rio's thumb. "Please, Rio-san, please tell us!"
Then slowly, Rio nodded. "But first, swear to me, swear this wont get back to my Guild. Swear it wont effect them in any way."
The Undine and Cait shared a look. If that was the price, then Rio was selling this info cheap. "We'll come up with something." Argo promised, not that Rio seemed to be listening now.
"You're right, we did get help with planning the banner operation. We had some ideas, but we couldn't really pull it off on our own." He shook his head in disgust. "We really didn't know how to get started until he showed up to one of our guild meetings. I thought he just listened and left, but he came by the next day with some ideas."
"So you brought him in on the banner operation, and it got him in your good graces." Jensen concluded.
"There were a few other things after that." Rio corrected. "A few other jobs he helped us with. Little things like slipping supplies our way for our posters, or giving us some juicy bits of gossip that we could use against Sakuya and the others."
"That tis how you heard about Jack?" Argo asked quickly, come on, who was it?
Rio nodded again slowly. "He told me just before the interview. I didn't pay it much mind, his info had always been good before. I really thought he was with our cause." A hiss of exhaled air. "But that bastard, he's been using me this whole time, hasn't he?"
"Who?" Jensen asked. "Who is it?"
That was when Rio started to chuckled bitterly. "I wish I could tell you. But seeing as he kept himself hidden . . ."
"You'd got to be kidding me." Jensen facepalmed. "You're really telling me that . . ."
"I don't know who he was!" Rio began to laugh hysterically. "He always wore a helm or hood when he came around. I asked about it, he said he didn't want to have the watch hassling him if they found out he was helping us." A miserable laugh. "Guess that was the truth, huh?"
"And you believed him . . ." Argo shook her head. The sad thing was, the fact that Rio could be that gullible was actually pretty convincing. "What, did he tell you that you were his personal hero?"
"I thought he was sympathetic to our cause. So I didn't look to closely . . . I didn't want to look." Rio shook his head quickly. "It was before the murders even started, so I never thought much of it. But now, I'm sure he has to be someone who works in the government or mob patrols. He'd drop some gossip our way now and again, just little things, but we learned about it before it hit the streets, sometimes as much as full day."
"Anything else you can think of?" Argo asked. "Anything at all."
Rio knit his brow as if trying to recall something important. "I never saw him in flight, so I can't be sure, but I think he was a Sylph. The build was right, and with his skin tone, he was either a Sylph, an Undine, or a Puca. Other than that, I can't say." Rio spread his hands pleadingly. "That's all I know. I don't care . . . if you believe me. But please, I'm sick of being used, hunt that bastard down."
"Alright. We're done here." Jensen said softly. They weren't getting anything else out of the wreck sitting at the table now.
As Jensen hammered at the door for the guards, Argo gathered up Suisen, stopping just long enough to give the fallen Rio a small squeeze on the shoulder. She should have been angry at him for keeping this, but instead she couldn't muster anything but pity. Maybe if he was lucky, Sakuya would be very, very forgiving.
Both investigators were out the door at a run, cutting straight through the office space amidst the protests of the other officers. They hadn't made it three paces before they stopped in the middle of the room. Jensen cursed under his breath. "And just what the hell do you want?"
Argo looked past the Undine to where another Undine Officer was arguing with another Faerie, a Salamander she'd have sooner forgotten.
"Jensen-san . . ." Vakarian offered awkwardly.
Argo knew that she and Jensen must have looked bad after days of little sleep, but Vakarian looked like hell. Like he hadn't slept since they'd seen him last.
"A bastard like you has a lot of guts coming back here." The Undine growled. "Why are you even here, weren't you ordered by Lord Mortimer to step down?"
Vakarian winced visibly before giving a slow nod. "I . . . was. And . . . I have. But that isn't why I'm here right now, or rather it is. I wanted to ask about the investigation."
"Not interested." Jensen grunted. "Someone who betrays his partners trust doesn't get the benefit of the doubt. Besides, we just cracked the last part of this." He cocked his head to the other Undine. "Irmin, get him out of here."
The smaller Undine placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, pushing the Salamander back towards the door. "Wait, Jensen. I was wrong, I exercised bad judgment and I can't ask you to forgive me." He brushed Irmin aside, holding out a small ledger. "I just want you to take a look at this."
Jensen looked down at the book, torn, before hesitantly taking it in his hands and flipping to a marked page covered in by now familiar hand writing. "Where the hell did you get this?"
"It's from Novair's office." Vakarian quickly raised his hands to ward off accusations. "I didn't keep it. When the investigation was done with Novair's office, we still needed everything he was working on. Mortimer didn't want me to have anything more to do with the investigation, so this was the best I could manage. Novair was involved with so much, I thought there had to be something, but I didn't know at the time until I saw this."
"And these are?" Jensen scanned down the list.
"Supply points." Vakarian explained. "Mortimer maintained them throughout the neutral territories for the skirmishers and our agents. They usually contain mission specific equipment and supplies in dummy chests. After the transition, hunting down these supply drops was a priority since the items in those chests would have spawned along with them, unlike our inventories."
"So Mort-kun was cleaning up his toys." Argo said. He might have lacked tact, but the Salamander Lords wasn't stupid in the least. He wasn't going to leave rare or dangerous items where anyone could just break the chest lock and steal them.
"And tell me, how does this have anything to do with the investigation?"
Vakarian nodded to the ledger. "Check the third, ninth, and seventh rows."
"Packages A35, A40, and A60." Jensen squinted at the ledger. "And then, all of them say that condition is 'Other'. What the hell does that mean."
"The rest are all marked with recovered or lost, right?" Vakarian gestured for Argo to lean closer as well. "Recovered means that the chests were found and returned to Gaddan. Lost means that they were in a part of ALfheim that did materialize in Tristain. I didn't know what "Other" meant until I went out to check for myself. And basically it was Novairs short hand for the chests being there, but empty."
"Okay, so what does that mean?" Argo pressed.
"A35, A40, and A60 are codes for assassination mission equipment." Vakarian explained as if repeating something he'd been told. "Usually, it was slightly above average equipment for Spriggan assassins to use while under Faction disguise so they could hang around the faction borders without being suspicious. These packs were located close to Freelia and were stripped of their Cait Syth clothing, supplies, and paralysis darts."
Argo sucked in a breath. Abigail's final autopsy report had found a small puncture wound on Liliana's neck, no bigger than a throwing pick. There had been suspicions, but now they knew for sure that at least one of Rip Jack's victims had been paralyzed before he delivered the killing blow.
"You think it was Rip?" Jensen groaned softly.
"Well I don't know, maybe it was some other psychotic assassin." Vakarian answered dryly, rubbing quickly at his face. "Sorry, sorry. That wasn't very nice of me. Haven't slept much."
"No, that's fine. So now we know he's up armed himself." Jensen handed the ledger back. "Good to know, we'll forward the information immediately. Any idea what else was in there?"
"Nothing more significant than that." Vakarian flipped to next page. "But these two were also missing near Silvain."
"I10 and I11?" Argo read. "What are those?"
"Infiltration equipment, stealth cloaks, silent boots, and some rare perception boosting items. Hard to tell because the chests were completely stripped. All I can say for sure is that they were probably meant for sneaking in and out of Sylvain. Which is strange, this isn't the sort of equipment Mortimer would issue to a Spriggan agent, so I'm surprised Rip would even know about it."
"Can we just hope this is a coincidence?" Jensen groaned.
"Not a chance sa." Argo couldn't help but stare at the I10 and I11 entries. Stealth Cloaks were Sylph equipment, you needed a high level in Sylph affinity magics to produce them, and they were jealously guarded by the Sylphs so only handful ever ended up outside of the Faction's control at any one time. In fact, they almost certainly would have to have been supplied by a Sylph renegade or else someone very highly placed in the Sylphs prior to the Transition.
"Vakarian-san, have you shown this to Mortimer?" Argo asked swiftly, breath catching.
"Argo?" Jensen question.
"Just tell me!"
The Salamander looked confused but shook his head. "No, I mean to, but I only just got back from looking around outside of Sylvain. When I checked in at the Guild Hall, Mortimer had already left."
"Jensen-san, tell them to be quick with that moonlight Mirror, we have to contact the Capital right now. And then we need to get going to meet up with Kii-bou and the others."
Jensen looked at her like she'd just done the stupid Cat Girl dance from those Soy Milk commercials. "What is it?"
Argo hissed under her breath. "I really, really hope this is coincidence, but if it isn't . . . then there is at least one more Faerie working with Jack. And," She tapped Suisen on the head, "Call it woman's intuition but they have to be involved right now."
The night of a Gala was a big event, even for those not invited it seemed. Or so it appeared to Louise as she followed closely after the other hooded figures stepping out unnoticed onto the torch and lantern lit streets.
The Petty Nobility, and even some commoners, lined the roadway outside the Palace walls, hoping for a peak at the carriages arriving now in a steady stream. Obviously they wouldn't be able to recognize aristocrats who stood far above their stations, but the crests of the great families were well known in the Capital, and no doubt, who had attended and who had not, would be talked about the following day and beyond as rumors inevitably got out by way of the Palace staff and servants.
Louise looked over her shoulder at the smooth, mage crafted outer walls that cordoned off the Palace Grounds from the rest of the city. She could have been inside of those gates right now, mingling with her peers at court, perhaps even at Henrietta's side. But feelings of responsibility led her away from that bright social center and towards a darker path tonight.
One that at least she walked with friends and allies to light the way.
"Having second thoughts, Valliere?"
Okay, friends, allies, and a Zerbst.
"I did for a moment." Louise tilted her head back haughtily. "But I didn't want to make you to feel left out Kirche, what being deprived of proper society in your homeland."
The Germanian's lips twitched and she quirked a brow. "You do know that I attended the Emperor's coronation, right?"
Louise hadn't in fact known that, but she wasn't about to back down now. "And I'm sure it was all very quaint, did your family offer him up their prized goat?"
"More like fifty heads of Dullahans from Uncle's prize herds." Kirche supplied helpfully. "Apparently Albracht was so pleased he formed a cavalry troop in honor of the Zerbsts. Very thoughtful wouldn't you say?"
"Then I'm sure you'd make a fine gift horse for one of them." Louise agreed, returning Kirche's smiled, "Or all of them."
"I could only hope!" Kirche winked lasciviously. "You know what they say about cavalrymen . . ."
Louise snorted, no, but she could guess. After all, if it came from a Zerbst it could only end in one thing. But tonight, these antics really weren't what was one her mind.
Kirche's smile softened into genuine concern. "Are you sure you're okay with this Louise? You know you don't have to come along."
"I know."
She didn't, Louise agreed, but it was the right thing to do. In fact, that was exactly why she had to do it. She felt bile rising as she walked ahead of Kirche and behind the others. So much of what made the Nobility deserving of their status was the things that they chose to do, and also, the things they chose to abstain. Such as not abusing their status to add to the misery of the Common People, and not betraying the trust of their Sovereign. Having confronted such a man personally, she could not rest until she saw him answer for his conduct.
Anything less left her feeling . . . unclean.
Louise reached for the small scrap of paper tucked into her pocket, KoKo's initial sketch of the seal she had glimpsed on the back of the letter passed between Terrance de'Martou and another conspirator, the man named Janglers who had swiftly stolen it away and left the inn as soon as he'd had it in his possession.
It had taken time to hunt down the meaning of the seal, it did not belong to any of the Old Families, nor was it a mark of the major trading houses. Rather, they had discovered quite by chance that it belonged to a Tailor's establishment, the A and B standing for the Tailors of Auch and Benolit in the Capital's Commerce district. That was the next link in the chain, the path to their next clue, and hopefully one that would bare fruit at last.
Especially now, now that the plot of the conspirators must be coming to a head. Louise eyed the cloaked figure that led their small procession. Lieutenant Agnes had assigned herself to accompany them tonight as a matter of vital importance, perhaps even seeing to the safety of the Princess herself.
Louise still couldn't quite believe what the second half of the investigation had uncovered. Terrance de'Martou, not merely a traitor, but a conspirator in a plot to assassinate the Prince Valiant and carry off Princess Henrietta. And taken in context with what had been learned elsewhere, the snatches of conversation Louise and KoKo had managed to hear, pointed to the possibility that this would also reveal more about the plot.
Louise shifted into a light trot, all the more reason to act quickly. Time was of the essence, and though the plot had been in part revealed, there was still much that had not yet been discovered lest they cause the spiders at the heart of the whole accursed affair to go to ground.
She took comfort at least, Henrietta could not be better guarded tonight with both the Manticore and Griffin Knights watching over her, and even mother present at the Gala, she was surely in little danger. But a little danger was not none and if this lead could reveal anything more before the plot was set to begin, it had to be pursued swiftly and communicated back to the Palace at once.
Even the Faerie Lords had understood that, sending another Fae to bolster them tonight. A swordswoman, much like Agnes, but also quite different. Louise frowned as she noted the woman out of the corner of her eye, head turning swiftly, ears hidden by her cloak. Appearances aside, she was lacking somewhat in, how would it be put . . . Discipline?
The Lieutenant hadn't seemed very impressed in any case.
And that a Petty Noble, whether human or Fae, could speak so irreverently! Even Kirche had been aghast at the way that she had casually referred to the Prince of Albion as 'Blondie', or at least, Louise thought Kirche had been aghast, she may have simply been bursting to hold in the laughter. Louise could never tell.
"We sure there's going to be someone in at this Tailor's this time of night?" Caramel asked, aiming her question at Agnes who could only offer a small sigh.
"It is located in the Commerce District. Most likely, the proprietor will have his quarters on the second floor. If not, there should be someone who we may ask his whereabouts. An apprentice or seamstress."
"Gotcha."
The Faerie pulled her hood lower, showing more care at hiding her appearance than KoKo who seemingly couldn't quite get her tail to obey and stay tucked under her cloak. Well, in the dimness it wouldn't be much of a problem, and with the festivities set to commence, they weren't confronted by many people in the back streets that they chose to walk.
The few that did approach turned away quickly enough at the sight of the two hooded figures brandishing very apparent swords. Faeries or not, the criminal classes would not be looking for a fight and instead continued on in search of easier marks like schooling fish parting from the path of a predator.
"Is it usually this deserted around here?" KoKo whispered in Louise's ear.
"How should I know?" Louise asked back. It wasn't like she frequented back alleys. Not of her own will anyways.
KoKo smiled apologetically. "Ah, of course Louise-chan is a good girl and wouldn't be out someplace like this at night. I was just thinking that you're sort of a native. Sorry."
"No no, it's alright." Louise gave it some thought. "The fireworks tonight are the cause most likely." She decided, pointing up to the narrow strip of darkening sky above them. "The Queen specially asked for the display to be made visible for the whole of the Capital." In fact, Louise had seen the barges being drawn out into the river that morning. It promised to be a remarkable display to mark the events of the Gala.
"She's most likely correct." Agnes observed. "It's a rare occasion for the Crown to hold a celebration of this sort. Naturally it should be made memorable to the people."
"That makes sense." KoKo looked up wistfully. "You know, it's been forever since I've gone to a fireworks festival. At least, it feels that way."
Miss Caramel snickered humorlessly. "Yeah, it's been a couple of years for me." Louise didn't understand the odd wince that KoKo gave at the other Fae's comment.
"A festival huh?" Kirche said. "I'm guessing they must have bee interesting in your homeland."
Both Faeries shared a knowing look. "They were fun alright." KoKo said, recollection tinged with nostalgia. "There was music and games . . ."
"I never could keep my gold fish alive . . . " Miss Caramel thought out loud to herself.
"And then there was the food." Both women said simultaneously, as surprised as anyone else the way that they had spoken in unison.
The swordswoman lifted a hand to scratch at the back of her head, almost as if she was embarrassed by the odd moment of syncronicity. "Yeah well, I had to run my butt off in track to make up for it!"
KoKo nodded sagely. "I dieted for weeks ahead of time so I wouldn't feel bad about eating as much as I wanted."
Diet? Louise wondered to herself. KoKo had explained the idea, but it still seemed impossible that having too much to eat could be such a widespread problem. Certainly there were fat noblemen, those who indulged to excess and of course those who a soft living was its own hardship. But fat commoners? Working men? Ridiculous!
Or rather, she corrected herself as she observed the two Fae continuing to chatter amongst themselves, just a sign of how very different their homelands were.
The walk into the Commerce District didn't take long, the main markets were located relatively close to the Palace, and most businesses that catered to the Nobility had their storefronts nearby or else along one of the many side streets that stretched away from the Market Square in every direction. By now the sun had set over the roof tops, the sky fading from pink to a deeper violet, the last storefronts closing early. No doubt the owners intent on celebrating the night in their own ways.
Louise couldn't help but think that the Inn would be doing marvelous business tonight. 'I could probably have made a load of tips.' She teased herself. Unfortunately she and KoKo had begged the night off and the request had been reluctantly granted.
But she did feel a little bad . . . for the deception. The girls, even Mademoiselle, had been kinder then she had any right to expect for her bungling efforts. Not even knowing her, they had given her a place to belong. She would have to find some way to repay them, all of them, something that would show that her gratitude was as genuine as their kindness.
They found the side street on which their destination was located, a narrow and winding alley that lead towards the river and the warehouses that lined this part of its length, where the barges would load and offload goods to be shipped by waterway, a more economical method than travel by airship within the borders of Tristain.
The foot traffic, already light, dwindled almost to nothing as they came upon the Tailor's shop, a two story building, wide glass windows looking in from the street on the workspace on the first floor. Louise took a breath as she looked up at the sign. The logo, an intertwined A and B, was exactly as KoKo had depicted it. And above the storefront, through a second story window, the weak, flickering light of a candle illuminated the interior.
"You know, it's possible this guy is in on the conspiracy." Miss Caramel noted casually, as if it was pertinent only now to mention as much.
"Possible," Agnes agreed, "But not likely. Miss Valliere and Miss KoKo heard comments to indicate that the proprietor is under duress." The musketeer shrugged. "If he does not know the circumstances of his extortion, then I cannot fault him for not coming forward. Besides, we've myself, an accomplished duelist, and two Fae with which to cow him."
"Yeah." The Faerie grumbled "Right until he decides to run."
"That's why we've got wings." KoKo chided softly, stepping past the two bickering soldiers and taking hold of the knocker. "If you girls aren't going to knock, mind if I go ahead?" Agnes gestured for her to do as she pleased.
As the knocker struck, Louise was silently grateful, while she, Kirche, and KoKo were operating in the relative safety of the Capital, Tabitha and Botan were still out in the country, helping to keep watch on the conspirators that they had discovered at de'Martou's estate. She could only hope they were safe.
"Yggdrasil-sama . . . give me strength."
Another impact, another tremble, another flash of pain as her aching shoulder struck the unyielding surface of her prison. More than anything, Botan wished she could lay down, she felt so tired, her lungs burning in her chest. But she couldn't stop, if she stopped, she didn't think she'd be able to get started again, and then . . . and then she would die . . . and lots of other people along with her.
That was why she was doing this, wasn't it? Waiting instead of racing to find leads, risking herself and gambling the fate of her sisters on behalf of the Kingdom of Tristain.
Botan had watched these past weeks, and listened, and learned, more than she ever could have known. Just how vast the world was, how many hundreds of hundreds of hundreds ofhundreds of people that existed in it. And how both the Fae and Nobility saw her and her sisters.
She had learned, that as bad as the Nobility might be, as cruel as humans like Fernand and de'Martou were, there were ones that were worse. Ones whose very image of the world would demand that every trace of ALfheim down to the last shoot, blossom, and Pixie, be erased or enslaved to their will. Ones like Lord Cromwell of Reconquista.
If Tristain fell to Albion, then their would be no safe place anywhere in the world for her or her sisters. The Faeries at least could be sent into exile and take their chances as nomads, but the small lives of the Gardens were inextricably linked to their homes and could be born nowhere else.
"The strength to preserve myself and my Sisters . . ." She stumbled back, giving herself what little distance she could to pick up speed before throwing herself once more at the barrier. Again she rebounded, and again she moved a bare hairs breath closer, closer to the edge, and closer to the drop that would either free her, or kill her
" . . . the wisdom to guide me on the right path . . ."
Desperation drove her now, desperation, and what she had seen beneath the country manor of the traitor and poacher Terrance de'Martou.
Almost there, just a few more pushes, she could already see the floor, far, far below, through the clear bottom of the glass. " . . . And the fortitude to see it done . . ."
It had all been up to her, to do what only she could do. The mansion was surrounded now, a hidden cordon of Royal guards, Faeries, and even a Faerie Lord to keep watch on the conspirators, ready to take action at a moments notice.
Botan had been filled with approval when she had seen the Faerie contributions, a small team of Sylph skirmishers, an Undine healer, a pair of Imp casters, three skilled Cait Syth trackers, and a trio of Spriggans led by Lady Morgiana herself. The presence of the last had renewed her confidence, the Spriggan Lord was everything that an Elder Sister ought to be and just as impatient as Botan herself to end this awful mess.
But still there was danger, the Royal Guards were not so numerous that they could afford to heavily cordon the perimeter, not without their absence elsewhere drawing suspicion. The Fae were likewise limited. Although keen of eye and swift of foot, the Faeries were unable to fly lest they draw attention from the mansion, and their magic was less suited to probing beneath the earth for signs of movement in the way that the mages could.
There were gaps in their perimeter, Botan understood why, but she didn't like it.
The idea of treachery, or assassination, it had taken time to wrap her mind around it. If she were still un-blossomed, she doubted she could have understood it at all. The idea one would turn on their home, it was alien, evil. And the ideas of how to fight it made her no more comfortable, sneaking about rather than walking in the light, lying, and spying rather than confronting the Traitors in the open. This was not the way she knew things should be, and her heart rebelled.
But if it was to be this way, she had thought she would have to bare it, if only for a little while longer, and do the most honorable thing she could think of.
So long as the conspirators could seek refuge underground, there were still places that they could hide their secrets. But there were few places that remained off limits if you were small, and you were determined enough.
Her obsessive exploration of the manor had finally born fruit just a few days ago. In the supply room adjacent to the stairway leading underground, she had found a place where a faint air current wafted up, carrying with it many of the scents she had smelled during her brief exploration of the safe room with Kirche.
There must have been a leak some time during the winter months, snow on the roof melting from the cooking heat of the adjacent kitchen, water dripping in from above and then freezing on the cold floor near the outside walls. The years of neglect had given icy fingers time to work their ruin, separating stone and mortar, splitting rock, until, at last, a narrow fissure had been opened, barely wide enough for a mouse. Barely wide enough for Botan as it turned out.
She had surged with excitement as she realized what she had found. Her past attempts to return to the underground had been thwarted time after time. Only the tunnels provided an alternative means of entry, and they were just as impenetrable thanks to their labyrinthine layout and many gates and doors.
It appeared that the de'Martou estate had been built over the ruins of a much older fortification that had guarded this area centuries ago, and over the years, the foundations and tunnels of that previous construction had been restored and added to so that the escape tunnels infested the entire area like mole rat dens.
The earth mages had assured Lady Morgiana that they had uncovered all of the exit points, but there were a worrying number of places where the tunnels plunged deeper into the rock strata and it could only be guessed what was down there.
When Digby had started to gather up the others, ordering them down into the 'safe room', Botan had seen her opportunity. Watching them with desperate voirism, the Vespid Knight had grown familiar with the mages, their habits, and their routines. This broke from the normal pattern where only a handful would go down into the safe room at a time, and if beings were like Pixies and other animals, then that definitely meant something was about to happen.
Following them through the door wasn't an option, Digby closely watched each of them as they descended the stairs, giving the treacherous Faerie assassin a doubly hard look before gesturing for him to continue on his way. The corridor beyond descended straight down into the safe room, there would be no place for her to hide. That left only one other option.
And so, not knowing what she would find to report back, Botan had climbed down into the dark, squeezing into a place that no Pixie ought ever go. Claustrophobic blackness closing in on her on every side, so dark that she was blind with only hearing and smell to guide the way.
Judging only by the distance she had traveled and the noise from ahead, Botan had been forced to correct herself, the space was not quite enough for her to squeeze through. Not without a good deal of discomfort anyway.
Privately, she was quite pleased with how her blossoming had turned out, she was even taller than Kigiku, which had mattered quite a lot to her when she'd been a Little Sister, though now she wasn't quite sure why. On the other hand, she sucked in her chest until she felt like she would implode, the slighter Knight would have had an easier time making it through this place.
"Just hurry up with that." Digby instructed from around a curve in the chasm ahead, lit by flickering candle light. "We're already behind schedule as it is."
"Don't be such a bother, 'Old Boy'," The voice that Botan had come to associate with the Faerie Assassin answered back, "Once we're down in the corridor, it'll be a straight shot just East of Tristania. Though mind the antlions, it's spawning season!"
Grunts and gasps from the other mages were followed by a loud cackling and the sound of a hand striking fabric. "I joke of course . . . they spawn all the time."
She tried to suppress a shiver. Rip Jack was the only one here that scarred her. She despised the mages, what they stood for, and respected their power to kill her if she was discovered, but otherwise, they were just beings that she was here to observe, learning about them so that she could complete her mission.
Jack was different, erratic, she was never sure if what he did was with purpose or done on a whim.
Sometimes, he would simply stand in a corner, waving his hands about as if there was something there that Botan couldn't see. Other times, he would murmur under his breath while sitting in a stupor until someone walked along to speak with him about something specific. Mostly, he simply slept through the day and much of the night, unless he was needed for something. In which case, the others would wake him very, very carefully.
After a while, Botan had figured it out. Jack was a Direwolf hiding in a pack of dagger dog mutts, and the rest of the pack knew it. There was only one other who dared to court him, either a Wolf himself or maybe Kidfox.
"Some lot of elite troops you all are." That one was Chadric again, sounding confident as always, a lot more confident than Digby, even though he insisted he was just an actor. "I do believe Miss Isabella and I could manage this well enough on our own, if you'd all like to run with your tails back to the good Lord Cromwell."
"I do believe Monsieur Jack is simply trying to up his rate again." The dark haired water mage, Isabella purred.
Another laugh. "Can't blame a man for trying!"
Botan peaked around the corner and into the gloom. It was like she had thought, they were all here now. More importantly they were all here now, standing together among the crates and boxes, leaning over the table illuminated by mage light. She'd been able to catch snatches of conversation here and there, but the different mages were seemingly divided into groups and only knew a very little about the greater plan. And almost always, whenever it got really good, Digby would find them out and berate them. It had never left her with any answers, only more questions.
Nor had the Fae or Tristanians been able to figure it out either. Frustrating!
Now though, they were all gathered for a meeting, talking in hushed voices, swiftly, and with Digby's approval. And the air, the scent of sweat heavy with pheromones, fear, anger, an edge of fight or flight instinct waiting impatiently to be let out.
She had to hear this, had to see everything. So cautiously, carefully, Botan found her way to the mouth of the crevice and out into the room itself. The opening was near the back of the room, everyone had their backs turned to her. If she was going to get closer to see what was going on, now was her chance.
A short hop, wings spread to slow her fall, and needle sword at the ready to sink into surface of the wooden crate. She was completely concealed once more by the shadows. Just a little further, through these gaps, and she would be able to see from between the boxes that a bored looking Rip Jack was leaning against.
She crept closer, the Nightcrawler scent of the illusion Fae filling her nostrils.
"You three are being compensated more than handsomely for your services." Digby grumbled. "You shouldn't complain."
"Mmm ah, perhaps, but then again perhaps not." Jack leaned against one of the crates. "Unless you'd like this whole plan to fall apart. I'd say we've been rather instrumental. Crucial even, savvy?"
"Tch." Digby reached for his sword-wand, eliciting a quick retreat from Jack who raised his hands easily.
"Now now 'Old Boy', no need for that! Naturally I'd be happy to have it bumped a bit higher, but I'll be happier still when I'm payed."
Oddly, between the two, Digby was the only one who seemed frightened, Rip Jack was relaxed all the while. The Mages sensed it too, Digby nodded slowly, more to reassure himsel. "First, lets see if your man is as dependable as you claim, leaving this until now . . . "
"There wasn't much of a choice." Isabella said as she opened a small box that she had set on the table, extracting an ornate, silver ring. "Getting just this much was difficult enough, more might have raised suspicion. And," she raised the ring to the light, holding her wand close to a blood red gem at its center, "Even with powerful magic like this, you saw how quickly they rot away with the other blood, and that has been with all of my talents." Breathing a chant, the gem began to lose its color, revealing itself for the miniscule crystal orb it was as a thin stream of vivid red fluid was drawn from within like a streamer by Isabella's magic. The water mage glanced to Chadric. "Are you ready?"
"As one ever can be to walk into a den of lions." The 'Thespian' said, extracting a crystal orb from a nearby sack and taking an offered seat cross legged atop a stone bench.
Without further comment, he placed the tips of his fingers carefully against the orb and pressed inward firmly, the crystal surface resisted at first and then began to give way, his hands sinking in to the palms. Small flickers of light began to flash across the orbs surface, from Chadric's palms, burrowing down to its dark center and then vanishing.
Carefully skirting the table with the red streamer following behind her, Isabella waved two of the other mages aside, hardly noticing Jack at all as she came to stand right next to Botan.
A flash of fright. Had she been seen? But now, Isabella was looking up beside her to the contents of a crate. It was the figure she and Kirche had seen before, the Golem, or mannequin that had been left partly unpacked in straw, its doughy white limbs hanging lifelessly at its sides. Now, almost completely unpacked, Botan could see the pegs that suspended it from beneath the arms, holding the Golem erect.
Isabella reached out, cupping the featureless ovoid of a head with a look of affection. "To think we've had to go through this many just to get it right!"
"Isabella." Digby grunted.
The water mage sighed. "But of course."
Returning to her chant, Isabella pointed her wand at the forehead of the Golem, the bloody red streamer obeying, striking the surface and burrowing inwards until it had vanished. Nothing seemed to happen for a moment, but Isabella's chanting continued, growing more forceful with each word.
The orb in Chadric's hands flashed and the Golem's crude hands twitched and then twitched again, closing spasmodically into fists and then beginning to split and separate. The gripping pad squeezing itself into four, meaty, sausage like fingers that thinned and flowed. The changes reached upward, the forearms straightening and stiffening to only bend at the elbow, and then the upper arms going rigid to rotate solely at the shoulder. The process repeating from the toes of the feet, splitting and bending at ankle, knee, and hip.
Another flash from Chadric's crystal ball, a sympathetic hiss of discomfort. The golem trembled, taking its first step, doughy flesh peeled from the surfaces of the holding pegs as it stumbled free from its crate reaching its hands to its featureless head. It doubled over as if in pain.
Watching, it was like the sculptors Botan had seen working in the Market with Louise. The Golem was reducing, shrinking down, body taking on definiton. Physique emerged from indistinct flesh, muscle, vertebrate, genitals, fingernails, lips, nose, eyes and ears. It was a like a statue was coming to life, and becoming more and more lifelike with every breath.
In the shadows, Botan leaned forward, the mages did too, everyone was trying to see. Or so it seemed, almost everyone . . .
Botan's first and last warning was a sharp, painful tugging on her wings as she was pulled bodily back through her hiding space. A Little One would have screamed, anyplace else, Botan would have screamed too. As it was, it took all of her restraint not to raise her voice as the scene spun away from her and into shadows.
By the time she understood what was a happening, she found herself hanging, wriggling like a worm on a hook before a pale, hatchet faced Faerie. She was frozen in terror. This close, she could smell Rip Jack's rancid breath, even tell what he'd last eaten. Eyes like dirty gold studied her, free hand reaching up to pluck away her sword before she could regain her senses and stab to free herself.
"I thought my perception skill had been acting up. That buzzing in the walls." He whispered seemingly to himself.
She looked past Jack fearfully, only to realize that in the space of a heartbeat he had snatched her from her vantage and slipped into a shadowed corner, out of sight, and out of mind of his mage accomplices still watching whatever was happening with wrapt fascination.
"And what do was have here? Do my eyes deceive me, or do I have myself a little Pixie Girl wondered off from the nest?" It took all the bravery she had at that moment not to answer, instead shooting the Spriggan a hateful glare as she squirmed.
The anger was good, it let her forget that she was terrified. Of everyone here, the mages would simply kill her. But Rip Jack . . . she didn't know what he would do. Squish her like a bug, or pull her wings off?
And then it sank in, beyond the personal danger, failure, complete failure! Her incompetence, her stupidity! And with it, the horror of her mistake. She trembled as she felt her limbs going limp in defeat.
"Still, strange for you to spawn here of all places." Jack muttered to himself, glancing over his shoulder. "I suppose you're some sort of Quest NPC then. Like the other Noobs kept for themselves."
Botan's head shot up. Others?!
"Where are they? Where are they?!" She half shouted, small voice not carrying far, and blessedly not carrying over the the sounds of Isabella's fevered chanting. Not that it could matter now, but she would not stop until the life was finally taken from her. "What did you do with them?!" And why was he using those words, the ones that Yui had asked her about before?
The Spriggan starred at her blankly, and the his smile widened victoriously. "So you are part of that quest! Wonderful. Those Noobs must want the loot for themselves." He looked over his shoulder suspiciously. "Should be interesting anyways, but this is a well paying job so . . . What to do . . . What to do?"
"Monsieur Jack?" Digby was calling, seemingly for the firs time aware that Jack was missing from the group. "Monsieur Jack, where have you run off to now?" Under his breath, as if somehow thinking the Spriggan couldn't hear, digby added, "You blasted crow!"
"What do think? Amusing myself, 'Old Boy'." Jack rolled his eyes. "I've already seen this done enough times helping Isabella-san and Chad-kun, nothing new to me."
"Whatever." Digby grunted. "We need you to verify the likeness. And don't tamper with anything!"
Sighing quietly, Jack looked around the small space, the rows of bottles and specimen jars until he found one that was empty. Without another word, Botan found herself flicked unceremoniously into one of these jars, the lid screwed tightly and returned to the shelf. "That should keep you until I get back." She heard Jack say in a voice muffled by the bottle.
Cut off from the world by a clear barrier that might as well have been an impenetrable wall for all her ability to pierce it. Beating her fists against the glass of her prison, Botan had never been more humiliated.
"Marvelous work as always Isabella." A cool and unfamiliar voice was heard above the murmurs of the mages, echoing distantly against the lid above her. "Only a shame that I cannot work the wings."
"Perhaps you lack the instincts for it." Isabella's voice replied. "It is likely just as how Elf magics cannot be used simply by duplicating the form of an elf. Or perhaps you can learn to use them, but not in the time we have now."
"I wouldn't bother." Jack said as he returned from the shadow alcove to the group. "This one's hopeless at ever managing it."
"So?" The cool voice asked. "Does it pass muster."
A moment of silence. "Seems convincing enough to me. Gotta admit, that magic is totally hax."
"I'll take that as a compliment, Monsieur Jack." Isabella praised.
"Enough of this!" Dibgy interrupted. "We've no more time for delays. It worked, wonderful. The Gala proper starts in only a few hours, even with the shortcut through that blasted Faerie terrain, we must leave now to make it to our rendezvous. Wyatt, take your team and make sure that the escape path that little worm de'Martou has secured for us stays clear. There can be no mistakes."
"But isn't that a job for Janglers and his men?"
"And you trust a Tristanian to do the job?" Said with a note of contempt. "No, I want this done properly. We must be out of the city and disposed of that . . . thing that Chadric is puppeteering before the Royal Guard has time to make sense of it."
"Then I should hope you keep my body safe and close enough for me to keep control of this puppet, Old Boy." The cool voice said.
"And what about de'Martou?" The one who had answered to Wyatt asked.
"As if it isn't obvious?" Digby said out loud. "Once he's served his purpose, kill him."
"NO!" Botan shrieked within her glass prison, perhaps glad that she could not be heard. She needed the traitor alive. If he died before she could rip the next clue from him, then it was all for nothing. She almost didn't hear the rest in her despair.
"Now then, you all know your parts. Our agents are in position on the barge. The Fae have been most proud of their contributions to the night's display. And finally, Monsieur Jack, the last part of your contract."
"Yes, of course." Rip jack chuckled. "You want the real one taken out of commission."
"Swiftly." Digby confirmed. "If your man could get us his blood, then I'm sure his information about the route that he will take is accurate. Go to the team we've stationed along the road, make sure that he and his guards die tonight and that no word Reaches Tristanian ears. It would be most inconvenient for us."
"As you wish, Old Boy." Rip Jack snickered softly. "Oh, and Chad-kun, while it's nice of you to prove what they say about Salamanders, perhaps you should put your pants on now. I do believe Mart-kun went to a lot of trouble to get that ensemble for tonight. Ta ta!"
The sounds of foot steps, of rustling and of people leaving, but not by the way they had came, echoes growing fainter as one by one, the mages filed though the door that lead into the escape tunnel. The last through were Isabella, Digby, and . . . a second Faerie, Botan grimaced, as she saw him from her hidden vantage. A Fae male, she didn't think he would be unattractive by the standards used to judge males, dressed in a uniform like the ones preferred by the Tristanian army. And at last, a Golem, though not the one she had seen earlier. This one in no way resembled a human, Fae, or Pixie, but instead was armless, pot bellied, with four small legs that had to work furiously to keep up at a waddling trot.
At last they had disappeared into the darkness, the door shut and locked behind them, leaving Botan in a near catatonia. Only when the echoes at last faded was shock replaced by something more productive. Rage!
She had shrieked until her lungs were horse, beating and striking the walls around her until her palms and fists had been raw, until at last reason had started to return. She had to get out, she had to tell that Spriggan Elder Sister what was happening, had to tel everyone what she had seen.
That thing, the second Faerie, it . . . she didn't think it was a Faerie at all . . . or a Golem really . . . but what? It was important! And they'd said something about the Royal Guard. The attempt had to be tonight. Worse, they'd mentioned . . . mentioned a corridor!
The corridors, deep passages that ran along Yggdrasil's roots, often for many kilometers, the upper underground that lay above the domain of Jottunheim and separated the world of light from the domain of the evil gods. If de'Martous tunnels had found a corridor then it would possibly be too deep for the Earth Mages to detect. They'd never know!
Desperation had set in, and desperation had driven her purpose. And quickly, she had discovered something worse. She had less time then she had expected. The air was fast growing hot and humid, stifling with every breath. The lid above her head was opaque, no screening, no air holes. This wasn't a prison, it was coffin! And with every second she was using up what little air she had left.
And damnably, it was a coffin she could not break free from. Not with her strength, and not with her magic. A Wind Shrike would have shattered the glass, or burst the lid, but in these confines, doing so would smash her own body to jelly in the back wash. Using a flame spell would do much the same, if it didnt use up her air first.
That only left gravity, and the long fall to the floor, and the dim hope that she would land just so not to be sliced to ribbons by shattering glass all around her.
She didn't know how long her efforts took, long enough she supposed, long enough for the air to grow painfully thin, until she could barely even think save for the litanies she had committed to heart. Inching, further, blow by blow, until one last push sent her over the edge.
Botan felt herself grow weightless, but by now she was too weak to care. She pressed against the lid, and then, like a kick, there was a shattering of glass, slices of pain, and a rush of blessedly cool clean air sucked greedily into her lungs.
The Vespid Knight turned over, gripping at her arms as rivulets of blood streamed from lacerations, the legacy of two close calls with shards of glass, a third that might well have decapitated her if she had still had the strength to brace herself. She didn't waste any time counting her blessings. The fresh air returned enough of her senses and strength.
In the darkness she saw nothing, but she heard distant foot steps, a sentry left behind to keep watch no doubt. They must have heard the braking glass. By the tame the heavy iron door was grating open, Botan was already worming her way back up through the crevice, back to the surface, to light, and to her allies. They had to move quickly or they would be too late!
From crevice to the store room, and from there through the ceiling to a gap in the thatch on the roof of the kitchen. Fresh air, real fresh air this time, almost caused Botan to faint and she had to pause to take her breath and her bearings. First, Triage, she couldn't risk flying while she was still losing blood. Whistling in a shrill note for Schwartz she turned to her wounds. She'd lost her sword, but Rip Jack hadn't thought to take the Willow Wasp Stinger knife she kept in her boot. The serrated implement blade was enough to cut off strips from her skirt and tie a rough bandage. That would do until she could make her report . . .
A shadow passed over head, not Schwartz, too big and coming in too fast. Botan looked over her shoulder to see the ugly silhouette of a hawk. Not an archeopterror, not a feathered dragon, not even a proper Spirrow, a native Tristanian hawk, raking its talons forward as it saw a tempting bit of pray laying out on the roof in the noon light . . .