"Tressa!" Primrose yelled as loud as her proud frame could, but she didn't need the girl that had been hiding to tell her that Tressa wandered off as soon as the dancer's back was turned; to make matters worse, Olberic arrived just in time to scold her.
"Where is she," Olberic asked ignoring the girl standing behind Primrose.
"She wandered off with some snake."
"Were you not watching her?"
"No, I was-"
"I distracted her." The nervous girl apologized with a contrary sense of confidence. It was likely the only thing she felt impressive at. "I really didn't mean to." Primrose knew no greater truth had ever been spoken. This mystery girl was more upset than anyone that the man had wandered off with Tressa.
Olberic quickly looked the harmless figure up and turned a judgmental gaze to Primrose which seared the dancer's skin. She knew exactly what the warrior was thinking, and he was right. They had lost Tressa because she became preoccupied by someone as threatening as a warm bath.
"You let some suspicious pervert take Tressa?" Olberic tensed up like an experienced albeit exhausted parent. "Perhaps she was lured away by something more mundane?"
Primrose felt a hint of relief. It was a good point. The number of prospects, suggestions or even random noises or smells that could draw Tressa away were surely unending. She may have just got a whiff of more milk and ran after it.
The young girl behind them squeaked, "sorry, but I think..." She turned away and Primrose wasn't sure if the bumbling mess of a sleuth would cry, run away or pass out. The dancer had grown so accustomed to living under Helgenish where one wrong word, one off step would leave you a bloody corpse in the sewer. She had almost forgotten people so fragile existed in the world.
Olberic quickly got fed up of the pause. "What's your name, lass?"
"Therese, sir." Her response was swift and weak. It was likely in this posh city, Olberic was the most intimidating man she had ever met.
Olberic nodded his increasingly defining neck. "Do you have some insight on the situation?"
"Well, sir, I just know Professor Albright likes to spend time with girls. Pretty, smart girls that is." Olberic thought to himself that Tressa was indeed a pretty smart girl, very smart even which seemed a sensible trait for a professor to seek out.
"Did you see which way they went?"
Therese pointed to a path that ran alongside the base of a massive staircase. Olberic wasted no time but Primrose took a moment to say, "Therese, if the professor hasn't tried to get too familiar with Tressa, I'll put in a good word for you."
"And if he has," she responded with quiet dread.
"Then I'll have to cut him open like a fish, for starters." Primrose had never used black magic while holding a man's beating heart. It was an intriguing albeit unreasonable in almost all circumstances. Almost
The dancer too went off, unable to hear Therese say, "maybe you can consider something different."
"Tressa, we should proceed with caution."
When Tressa's new business partner told her to follow him, she was expecting their trek would lead to a store, maybe someone's house, or even a shady back ally, but not a muddy cave that smelt of chemicals. All she knew about Cyrus Albright was that he was Cyrus Albright – a man now leading her through a suspect situation, telling her to hush up. Tressa was beginning to suspect this adventure might land her in jail.
"Uhmm, Cyrus." Tressa did her best to keep her voice low which was a skill the merchant was unaware she was lacking in. "Are we not supposed to be down here?"
"Perish the thought, my dear. Even in isolation, this cavern sits on university grounds. I believe everyone has the right to be here." Tressa noticed a distinct lack of answer in Cyrus' quiet jubilation. "I suggest caution only because we aren't expected and I daresay it best kept that way."
All Tressa's business senses were telling her to run the other way. As much as sight and sound, these senses had guided her throughout her life and they had never been ignored until now. It was the merchant's sense of adventure overtaking her and pushing her forward.
Prison won't be so bad, she thought. A savvy businesswoman like yours truly could do well. Her natural charm would get her an in with a guard in credible fashion. Ma and pa wouldn't be happy about the situation, but they'd support her all the same, helping her smuggle stuff in. Playing cards, chocolate; a little bit of wine never hurt anyone. No weapons, of course, but rope would be a popular item and she would assume those that bought it would be using it to break out since those customers would never be seen again.
Thankfully, that was a reality the merchant would never know.
"What is it that we're trying to find anyway?"
"A book." Cyrus said the word with such passion that Tressa figured he must pray to the pages in holy passages rather than the gods they represented.
It also wasn't what she wanted to hear.
"A book!?" She covered her mouth with both hands to acknowledge her mistake and whispered through them. "Is a book really worth that much?"
Cyrus whipped around, his eyes angry and offended by the slight against his faith, but his grin looked excited. "Tressa, my dear, there are few, if any, treasures more valuable than a book, especially one as old as the tome we're seeking."
Tressa's lips pursed at her business partner's pitch. She got the point – this particular book was worth a lot. Ancient art was worth a fortune, so it stood to reason the logic would apply to a different medium. Still, his message was erratic. The merchant knew she'd have to do the talking when they met the buyer.
They'd have to work that out later though. The stink of every unnatural smell was now overpowering the natural cave stench and Tressa saw that Cyrus began inching with caution up a slight incline.
She also noticed that his left hand which he held behind his back was ever so slightly on fire. She wanted to say something, but Cyrus was obviously desperate for silence. Besides, he didn't seem to mind.
The eccentric man's tip toeing broke into a dash when a mess of things came into view. Lights, desks piled with crap and someone with their backs turned. The illusion of silence was shattered when he yelled out, "Russell!" It was a loud call, but still dignified as if he was speaking to a king that was hard of hearing.
Oh heck yeah! We can make noise again! This relieved Tressa, but she was more concerned by Russell's expression. This man, who looked like a store brand version of Cyrus, was not happy to see them, though, to be fair, he looked like the kind of man that wasn't happy to see anyone.
"Give me the book, Russel." This had been the first time Tressa heard Cyrus speak firmly and she grew suspicious. It sounded like her partner was trying to rob this man, and that's not what she signed up for.
"Cyrus, what is it that we're doing here?"
Russel blurted, "what a smart question! So, so smart." Budget Cyrus was already sweating through his cheap white robes. He certainly seemed like a man that knew he was about to get robbed. "What is all this about a book?"
"You are a terrible thespian, Russel and you insult all three of us with you stammering." Cyrus turned to Tressa. "My colleague has taken an important book from the library and it is my duty to return it."
It was the job of a good merchant to analyze everything about a customer. You can't sell someone the right thing if you don't understand them, and with every twitch and shift, it was more and more apparent to Tressa that Russel was a man gripped with fear.
But fearful customers took many forms and Tressa could spot them all. A young man anxious he wouldn't be able to find that perfect gift, a mother worried that she wouldn't be able to afford her groceries, an insecure elderly woman questioning how age appropriate the dress she picked was. There were too many to name and Russel didn't match any of them, because he wasn't a customer.
He was a shoplifter.
Tressa pulled out the spear hanging off her back and held it out with purpose. This business venture hadn't gone as predicted, or even been about business at all, but catching a thief would be as rewarding as making a sale. "Alright, mister. I've had my fill of bad guys of for one week, so give up whatever you stole."
Suddenly, Tressa discovered the meaning behind Cyrus' flaming hand when it became abundantly clear that Russel had prepared the same thing. A suffocating, dry and intense heat washed over her originating from a ball of fire speeding forward. Had her partner not been prepared, Tressa may have been set thoroughly ablaze, which was her least favourable way to die. She knew when ma and pa reunited with her in the heavens, she'd have to spend eternity listening to them say, 'you shoulda' stayed near the water, dear.'
Cyrus was in fact very prepared though. Not only did he release his own wave of fire with perfect reflexes, but his magical attack was much fiercer. Tressa was familiar with the term fighting fire with fire, but Russel's fire had clearly brought a dagger to a crossbow fight. A hint of ash was in the air as if the one flame had somehow incinerated the other.
"You're fighting a foolish battle, Russel." Even in anger, in the face of life and death, Cyrus maintained his charming, posh confidence. "Best case, you get hanged for murder. Worst, and much more likely case, I defend myself and this girl to the best of my ability."
The shabby wizard slowly lowered his weapons and Cyrus did the same. "I understand your desperation, Russel. If you explain your situation to the headmaster, he may pull some strings and get you a lighter lashing from the law."
"You ignorant fool." Russel didn't bring his arms back up but he began aggressively looking side to side. At first glance, it looked like he was checking for flanks, but he didn't look at all nervous while he did it. "I owe debts and those don't disappear when you go to prison. You know nothing of desperation!"
From each back corner of the room, two wisps of water and ice formed and from each of them emerged a cascading line of icicles that Cyrus had not seen coming. Before he had any sort of chance to react, he was knocked down.
Russel took in the pride given to him by his conjurations, but his silent boasting was all the distraction Tressa needed. She ran forward close enough to strike with her spear. The shabby fellow was quicker than his rugged bad looks implied and the merchant only tore through part of his robes, but he was not fast enough to dodge her second attack.
Tressa knew all the best ways to not kill a man, but she didn't need to hear Russel's scream to know how much it hurt to have a sharp weapon plunge through your shoulder. "Give us the book!" Tressa and Cyrus were possibly the only two people that felt that was a more appropriate demand than 'stop attacking my friend!'
The assault on their master turned the attention of the magical frozen guards onto Tressa. Both spirits sent the same wave of ice against her, but a grunt of frustration from her partner was followed by two walls of ice that protected her on either side, giving her the freedom to attempt to bring this confrontation to a close.
Another thrust, even in the right place, may have been too much for Russel to handle, so Tressa went for a slash across his chest instead. She hadn't expected the wounded man to have the prowess needed to raise his staff and block her spear, but it didn't matter. Her weapon may not have made contact, but his wounded shoulder absorbed enough of the blow. He cried out in pain again and fell to his knees.
Meanwhile, the spirits were smart enough to know their magic would be unable to pierce through Cyrus', so they went after him a second time, with an even bigger wave of icicles. He wasn't used to this level of combat, but he still had the power to meet the ice with a wave of fire. Half of the frozen spell evaporated on impact, while the rest melted, creating a massive wave of water that either soaked him, or catapulted right past him.
As if it wasn't bad enough that Primrose was in yet another damp, foul cave, but now, somehow, she was drenched by a small tidal wave. It still did nothing to deter her and Olberic. They had began their journey with a quick stride, but once they started hearing action unfold, they made haste. There were three voices echoing throughout the cave, but the sound was too distorted to hear the details, but Tressa was involved on one side or the other.
The warrior and dancer raced up the same final incline their friend had to find Tressa standing over a wounded body and a whole lot of ice scattered everywhere. The handsome man Primrose had seen before was next to her, short on breath and covered with as much water as her and Olberic.
"Someone tell me what's going on here." The cave seemed to respond to Primrose's demand. From behind two walls of ice – one on each side of the makeshift lab – came angry, voiceless slams that prompted Olberic to raise his sword and creep forward.
"Don't sweat it, Primrose! We were just tracking down this little rat."
"Allow me to explain the situation." The man Tressa had followed spoke to Primrose and Olberic, though his eyes never left the back of the room. "An ancient book was stolen from the library; I knew my colleague here had taken it to pay off his gambling debts and Tressa joined me on my quest to retrieve it."
"I had no idea Russel would turn this into a violent brawl. I would not have involved your friend if I predicted these circumstances."
Another series of bangs from behind the ice walls.
"Also," Cyrus exhaled heavily, "there are ice spirits behind those walls. If you don't mind, we would all be better off if you didn't use your sword to free them." Olberic refused to lower his weapon, but he did halt his advance.
Primrose noticed the man's hands each glowed a cold blue and she figured he had been responsible for at least some of this unnatural glacier. He was clearly well versed in arcane knowledge, but more importantly, the man who, in less dire circumstances, would have introduced himself as Professor Cyrus Albright was not some pervert absconding with 14 year olds.
Sure, he put Tressa's life at risk, but Primrose had been right about him not being a pervert and that was a big win for her.
Primrose asked, "are you planning on killing him?" Despite Tressa holding a spear to the chest of their enemy, asking her would have been rhetorical. Even if the thief had used the book to beet twenty babies to death, the idea of an execution wouldn't have entered the younger girls mind.
Cyrus shook his head. "Russel, don't be a fool. You are now even more outmatched. Give us the book and end this."
Despite the circumstances, Russel didn't seem ready to call it quits. He must have realized Tressa wasn't a substantial threat and was using that to buy time to come up with a scheme. Primrose had no desire to see this man dead either, but she did want this to end so they could move on with their lives.
"Tressa, back away. He'll tell me what you want to know." The younger girl showed her faith in Primrose by obliging with no hesitation. The dancer thought to herself, a man plagued by fear and addiction, huddled in a cave. This will be too easy. She didn't move any closer to Russel because she didn't need to. Her trademark dark purple aura began to envelop her as she began to charge her dark magic.
"Stop!" Primrose had expected someone to say this, but she had assumed it would be the target of her spell. Instead, it was Cyrus, and given the call from him that followed, she could deduce he had been the one that put up a frozen barrier around the two of them.
Judging by the way he nearly toppled over, Cyrus had used whatever he had left on this spell. "Are you mad?"
"I am now."
"You were going to use dark magic on him."
Another idealistic moral compass in another dank cave. If it hadn't been so annoying, Primrose might have found it comical. "As long as this fight goes on, he won't give up."
Cyrus wasn't even a head taller than her, but he was looking down on her like he was quite a big higher. "I know the effects dark magic can have on a man." The frozen wall around them wasn't that thick; there was no chance the people on the other side couldn't hear the conversation and everyone remained silent so they could eavesdrop. Even the spirits had ceased their rage to listen in.
"It tortures the mind as if they were in the clutches of Galdera himself. Russel is simply a misguided man turned to petty crimes to protect himself from his own weakness. What kind of foul train of thought has lead you to believe torture is justified on such a harmless creature?"
The nostalgia of someone getting this angry with her was kicking in, but this wasn't anything like getting yelled at by Helgenish. When her former boss let his rage out, it had been an effort to make her feel worthless, to grind her self esteem into the sand as a means of controlling her.
Cyrus' frustration though, was questioning her morality. He wasn't yelling at her because she was bad, but because she had the ability to be good. The last time someone had scolded her in such a way was...
Her dark incantation subsided; Cyrus spread his arms out to shatter their barrier.
"Russel," he called out with some humour in his exhausted voice. "I don't have the energy to stop her a second time." Cyrus smiled at Primrose, knowing that he wouldn't have to, even if Russel did refuse to give up the book.
Russel, however, did not know that; his rushed scampering to his feet was proof of that. The beaten wizard tried to hold his hands up to announce his defeat, but he was clearly in too much pain to do so – the gesture was there though, as was the sounds of spirits blocked off by ice being sucked back into the abyss them came from.
