Icarus Awakens

Jeras was returning to the main guardhouse below the south Spire when he saw the large cluster of guardsmen moving at speed with bodies in tow. He didn’t rush to join them as there didn’t seem to be immediate danger, here or elsewhere in the city. Instead he sighed, realizing he was probably getting out late again today.

For as long as he could remember his life had been terrible, which honestly just meant the last month or so. Sun up to sun down in armor, sometimes missing meals if he was unlucky or they forgot to send something to the wall. It wasn’t only him, the majority of the city’s force had been pulled into overtime after patrols and the wall guard were tripled. It made no sense to him, this is the kind of thing you’d do during an active war. Or, right before one.

There was no threat! At least, he was pretty sure of that. There were a lot of bodies being taken into the guardhouse. Had the Mirage finally attacked the city?

The southern guardhouse was built a few blocks from the Sun Spire. Close so that they could reinforce the spire guard, but far enough away that the nobility didn’t have to worry about living above criminals. Present days hadn’t left them with much to reinforce, though, and anyone coming from the city guard would be exhausted after weeks of overwork.

“Hey Ras. You just missed the drama.” Kelra, one of the avainoids who staffed the front desk, and the best looking among them, called out as he walked in. The pack of guards he’d seen enter were nowhere to be found and there were relatively few people here to report a crime or give testimony. It looked like there was time to talk. “Might not want to tell the street sweepers how dull the hill folk have it today. Looked messy.”

Jeras leaned on the desk and smiled. Kelra had bright blue feathers with a pattern of red around the neck that flowed past where her uniform obscured her feathers. If he had time for more than a quick chat, he could have stayed here until shift change. “I saw them moving bodies on the street by hand. Couldn’t get a cart at least?”

“Should’ve seen Sherman. He wanted everything done before the feather drops. Spire business I think.”

“Just bodies?”

Kelra leaned in, voice lower. “No. Sounds like a trio of monster hunters cut loose on a bunch of normals. Didn’t have to get one of the HURTs on them though, they surrendered as soon as we showed up. Hunters are fine of course, but about as many of the civilians survived as our people get good sleep. See that?” Kelra nodded to a thin red line on the floor. “Could follow that all the way back to where it happened. Some of them were still leaking.”

Jeras’ stomach squirmed. “Hammer. Is one of them a Rogue?”

“Gotta be. Something’s got a fire going under the Lieutenant and I don’t see anyone lining up to put it out.” She nodded to one of the rear doors that led to the locker rooms. “Probably want to get out of here before he makes you file for an extra half a shift again.”

Jeras winced, remembering just how much trouble he’d gotten into for bringing that Cleric in instead of the news Sherman had wanted. “Right. We get ‘em all at least?”

“Oh yeah. Two of them were cut up, a human and a plant. Dusker too, but not a scratch on that one.”

“Human, dusker, and plant?” Jeras shook his head. Odd combination, sounds like the start of a joke.

“Yeah, and during the day. It’s going to be a mess.” Kelra took a stack of papers and shuffled it on her desk, trying to look busy. “Got any reports to hand in? Otherwise, it’s getting close to quitting time.”

Maybe I do have time. “I could wait for-”

“JERAS!” Both winced this time as Sherman came charging to the front desk. “Good, I was about to send for you. Have you been informed of the latest incident?”

“The mass casualty?”

“Good man. With me.” Jeras glanced at Kelra who gave him a sympathetic look. At the very least it looked like the wind filling Sherman’s wings was carrying him along instead of pushing him off a cliff. The Lieutenant seemed borderline excited about the fact that a dozen people had been brutally killed on the street. There were rumors about the human but nothing that far out. “This is all confidential, understand? I need you to confirm identities.”

The brisk pace they were taking led into the underground sections of the guardhouse. Most rooms had high ceilings to accommodate the duskers who almost exclusively staffed the night shift. That, combined with normal sized furniture, was disconcerting to see for the first time. Jeras had worked here for decades and paid the oddity no mind. Instead, he took notice of where they were likely heading. “We have them in the anti-mag?”

“Of course. Two in the level 4, one in the level 3. You should have seen it,” Sherman continued like he was describing one of the rare times he went on hunts to chase advancement. “The street was covered in blood. I think that justifies taking them up a notch.”

That was surprising. Jeras knew a Builder could place many kinds of enchantments in their construction, including fields of magical suppression if they had that kind of power. Field strength was equivalent to the level of the Builder, and he’d heard for two of the cells the city had hired outside help to put on the finishing touches. Beyond those, they had a respectful section of level 3 and level 2 anti-magic cells in case someone with a class needed to be detained.

Capturing such a person was a tricky business. Only a fraction of the guard were similarly empowered, the rest had to make do with calling for backup. The High Urgency Response Teams, which everyone always abbreviated when they talked about them, were the nominal force made up of Blessed or those who carried magical items at all times meant to respond if a team of hunters suddenly went berserk. By the sound of it, they hadn’t been needed this time.

Once captured, standard procedure would see any powered individual gagged and bound to prevent them from using any kind of power. That wasn’t enough sometimes, resulting in escape mid-arrest or another fight, at which point the resisting individual would be hit on the head until they were definitely unconscious. Once inside a cell they were more manageable, but moving them got tricky as the general cell area didn’t have magical suppression. If both level 4 cells were occupied, the city would be faced with a problem if someone else of that level needed containment.

Jeras didn’t point that out. You did not contradict or question Lieutenant Sherman on the rare occasion he was happy. “Is this about those people you sent me after yesterday?”

“Yes! That Kaysian wasn’t with them, and I can’t recognize the dusker or the human. The other’s a weed so gods know if that one’s the same. You were the only other one that saw them up close. I want your opinion.”

“Yes sir. Do we know what happened?”

Sherman looked at him, confused as if that didn’t matter. “Ah, yes, the story from the ‘Blessed’ is they were ambushed. Who would ambush a dusker carrying a bow taller than they were I have no idea. Four survived, if you can call it the state they were in survival, and we’re getting them looked after. Since the Blessed are in the anti-mag, we can’t use truth items on them.”

“Right.” In less than a minute, they were in the general cellblock. A large cell was first for indigents or public nuisances. From there branched three hallways. One led to normal cells, another to fortified ones appropriate for duskers, and the last to the special cells. The highest grade anti-magical cells were closer to the door since you wanted to reduce the distance you had to carry the more dangerous individuals.

“Another thing,” Sherman warned before they went through the last door. “The weed’s got at least something in them. It fought hard when we tried to check and it looked like several people had taken a saw to it. Anything magical should be suppressed, but if it's a knife it might try to throw it. I personally told it we’d finish the job if it tried anything, but you know weeds.” Jeras didn’t, really, but Sherman’s dismissive attitude didn’t invite correction.

Jeras gestured to the door as a response, and the Lieutenant opened it. The aforementioned human was in the first cell, his plain clothes torn and bloodstained in places. To Jeras’ eyes, it looked like he’d been shot twice, though the only sign of the wounds were on the clothing. The young man was awake and appeared to be meditating. “Is he advancing?”

“No, that’s impossible in there. I think it’s an act to throw us off.” Sherman withdrew the shimmering sword at his belt, an enchanted weapon appropriate for both his level and station, and rattled the bars. What metal went within a foot of the bars dimmed as its enchantment was suppressed. “Hey! Stop that.” The human started a little but didn’t open his eyes and continued breathing deeply. “You, approach the bars!” There was no movement and Sherman gave up. “Bah. Well, seem familiar?”

“No.” He couldn’t see the person in the cell, but there was enough to be sure this person hadn’t been with the group Sherman was talking about. Jeras wasn’t so sure this was an act. Sherman didn’t pull enough cage duty to know what the ones who didn’t handle a cell well looked like. To his eye, the human looked to be doing everything he could to keep calm.

He walked over to the other suppression cell where a mass of plant matter was curled on the ground in the center. To see that he had to move a slider from the extra precautions needed to contain one of the people of the elements. It was a solid door set just behind the bars, anchored into points dug out and set so that the space contained was still within the overlap of the magical suppression. This way the plant couldn’t sneak its way through by just squeezing around the iron. Gods forbid we ever have to hold one of the air ones. “I guess this is it? Hard to tell.”

Sheran grunted as if he hadn’t expected much. “Hmm. Well, look at the dusker.”

While the last prisoner could be at their full height in a cell without sunlight, they weren’t. Jeras looked hard at them, trying to compare the image in his head from his brief encounter at the gate. Without their bow or quiver it was hard, but the armor looked right. “Yeah, I think that’s them. Are they sleeping?”

“Not sure. The human was making all these threats and bluster before we tossed him in the anti-mag. That shut him up. The plant said a few words, but I couldn’t make out anything.” Sherman rapped his knuckles on the bars of the third cage, which didn’t provoke a response. “Dusker’s been quiet though. Hasn’t moved since we took them in. Eerie. Come on.” Sherman nodded his head back out and Jeras followed uneasily.

“Should we get someone to make sure they’re alright?”

“All three are breathing, aren’t they?” Sherman looked towards the plant for a moment, clearly considering if that statement applied. “Ah, Crest, they’ll keep until morning at least. Blessed don’t die outside of battle easily. Now, I want you to keep this quiet, understood?”

“Yes sir.” What else was he supposed to say?

“Good lad. Take off. I might need you again tomorrow but you have the night.”

Jeras tried to hide his sigh of relief, feeling as if he’d been in one of those cells and Sherman had just unlocked the door. “Thank you, sir.”

He didn’t immediately leave the guardhouse, though. Things weren’t sitting right with him. Sherman had been known in the past to bend the rules for those in power, and he was afraid that had already happened before the incident this afternoon. In a real sense, that Cleric should have never hit a cell. The arrest had been bad, a product of frustration and the sense of punishment waiting for him if he returned that night late and empty handed. On arrival he had been chastised, but not for breaking protocol. If the Cleric wasn’t in the cells anymore, where was he?

“Kel, you still here?”

The desk guard smiled at him. “Surprised he let you go that quickly. I was just wrapping up. Might have time for our old haunt if you’re up for it.”

He brightened and considered dropping his concerns, but asked anyway. “Remember that human I brought in last night?” Was she there? No. “The, uh, Cleric. Thomas, I think.”

Kelra frowned. “He was arrested after my shift, but I heard about him. Why?”

“What happened to him?”

Her frown deepened. “Eddor Kaysian. Bit of a meathead and a bastard, even considering where he lives. Came in around noon today to spring him. I think they’re related. What’d you bring him for?”

“That’s what he meant by Kaysian.”

“What?”

Jeras shook his head. “Nothing.” This was politics. Nothing new in this city. If it was just any other day he’d forget about it and take getting off before the sun set. But he was tired, suspicious, and afraid of what would happen to the people in those cells. Murderers or not, they didn’t just throw people in holes and forget about them, or feed them to the whims of the nobility. “I need an hour. Something I have to do, but I’ll meet you there.”

“Oh! I can’t remember the last time we had a chance to catch up. I’ll be interested to hear what you’ve been doing with all this free time Sherman’s throwing your way.” She smiled, and for a moment Jeras forgot his plans. Why hadn’t this worked before? They had a history. But they also had the same job. Times like this where you worked and you slept, there wasn’t time for anything else. And the stress. You started the stretch with a life and had it torn to pieces, leaving you with only scraps towards the end. This time needed to be different.

“I’ll be there.”

…

Aucrest Seliri walked into the guard station an hour later and was immediately brought to a beaming Lieutenant Sherman. “We’ve got him, Sir. Or, uh, Lord Seliri. No doubt, he’s the Artificer.”

Aucrest appraised the man and felt a small ember of dread catch. Sherman was as corrupt as they came and shifted to prevailing winds, but he wasn’t opposed to working outside his race like others. It was that reason Aucrest had used resources and influence to put this man in his pocket instead of other potential targets of note in the city. Appearances were important, especially for his plans for the city’s future. Yet, a blunt instrument was still a blunt instrument. “You’ve arrested him?”

Sherman didn’t hear the reticence in Aucrest’s question. “Yes, Lord! We found him and a couple of his friends surrounded by a bunch of corpses in the middle of the dusker district.”

The old avianoid blinked, having only been informed of the capture. “What happened, and how many?”

“About fifteen, some of them survived but barely. Normals against anyone with a class don’t tend to go well. Uh, for most, Lord.” The amount of blatant ingratiating in the officer’s voice waxed and waned in proportion to how many others were within earshot with a steady baseline of respect underpinning it. “Looks like a gang of thieves thought they could beat quality with quantity.”

“If the Artificer was attacked, why did you arrest the victim!?” Aucrest grimaced internally as a note of anger entered his voice. Cultivating the relationship between himself and this man was a careful process. Offend him and Sherman might think of courting one of the other civic leaders, especially if he had a gem in his cells. Aucrest measured his tone and quickly followed with another question. “How do you know he is the Artificer?”

“Oh, you’re going to like this Lord.” Sherman took out a key and unlocked one of the interrogation rooms. At first, Aucrest was horrified at the thought that they’d just put the Artificer in a normal room but found there weren’t people in it at all. Instead, there was an assortment of weapons on the table gleaming golden from the light of a torch. “Solid gold. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“That’s because it’s not gold. May I?”

“Of course Lord!” Sherman preened. He picked up one of the daggers first, drawing an intake of breath from the guard. “Uh, Lord, some of the bodies had a bleeding curse inflicted by those. I’d be careful.”

“I am grateful for the warning, but it would take more than that to injure me.” He touched a charm hanging from a wrist and glanced closely at the blade. From there, his eyes moved down to the hilt. “One solid piece. Inefficient, not the work of Arpan,” he mumbled to himself. “And, interesting.”

“Lord?”

“If I’m right, this is level 5 material used for a level 2 weapon. There’s simply no way our resident Artificer would waste this much material. I’d wager a healthy portion of my estate that only a novice would mass produce weapons this way. A novice, or one pushed to desperation.”

There was a gleam in Sherman’s eye Aucrest recognized from their previous dealing. “Are these weapons valuable?” he asked, omitting the honorific.

“Not at the level of a king’s ransom, but yes. This is odd.” Aucrest turned his attention to the odd weapon out of the bunch. “Hmm. Crossbow, although I don’t recognize this design.” The stock had a shoulder rest of the kind you’d see with advanced models and would be hard to find from common merchants What drew his attention most was how the trigger had a guard that extended down into a grip, and that there were small wheels where the bowstring met the end of each arm. A unique design when taken in full. “What do you make of it?”

“Just looks like another crossbow to me. A golden one.”

“Heliorite. More valuable than gold.” Aucrest thought too late that he shouldn’t stress how much these items were worth. “I agree with your assessment. If you captured whoever wielded this they are either the Artificer or knew them very well. May I see them?”

Sherman nodded slowly, bowing slightly. “We’ve got him in the strongest anti-mag we have, him and his friends.”

“The strongest what?”

“Uh, magical suppression cell, Lord.” The formality that had been bleeding off Sherman’s speech snapped back into place. “I’ll show you to them at once.”

…

“How can I help you?”

“I’m wondering if you could tell me if my father is here?”

Kelra, minutes from signing off, looked at the young avianoid in front of her and hoped she wouldn’t have to walk her through posting bail. “Who is he?”

“Oh, he’s on the Council. Lord Aucrest?” Kelra’s eyes widened and the other smiled awkwardly. “Sorry, I know, I don’t have any of his silver. Both my sister and I took after our mother. We were going to have a late dinner, but I heard he had to come down here for some urgent business. I’m Willow, by the way.”

“Kelra.” Another would have been more suspicious, but she could see the resemblance in the face now that she looked for it. “I’m afraid he might be a while. Have you heard about the attack?”

“Just bits and pieces on the way here. Does this have something to do with my father?” Willow asked, worried.

Her desk wasn’t connected to the other receptionists’, some of which were being taken over by dusker counterparts as the night shift phased in. Following the conversation with Jeras she’d negotiated for the next rotation out, although if she got delayed that would throw that plan into the Crest. “I wouldn’t worry,” Kelra whispered. “It’s looking like there’s a rare class involved, they’re probably just trying to figure out if he’s associated with another region or not.”

“So he is here for work.” Willow sighed. “Thank you Kelra, I know all I need to.”

“You could wait here if you’d like,” Kelra offered, indicating benches near the entrance instead of the desk.

“No, it’s fine. I’m sure he’s busy.” Willow left with a disappointed glance towards one of the secure doors leading from the guardhouse entrance, though it wasn’t the one Aucrest had gone through. Kelra almost gestured for the next in line before remembering herself, and quickly gathered her things instead.

“Shaun, I’m off,” she said to tonight’s lead desk staff. The human, also just freed up, gave her a half smile.

“Kelra, when are you going to branch out?” He said in a low voice that wasn’t quite a whisper. “You know how this ends.”

“Shaun! I was sure no one overheard us.”

“Yeah, we just saw you bending the not-ears of your on-and-off flame with a hungry look on your face.”

“I did not have a hungry look on my face.”

Shaun rolled his eyes. “Sure, sure. I get it Kelra, everyone needs to relax right now. I’d just suggest picking one that’s either just for a night or forever.”

“Why do you care?”

Shaun shrugged. “You always take days off whenever you two break up. Covering that’s annoying and I don’t know if you can afford that right now.”

“Good night Shaun,” Kelra said abruptly.

“Yeah, you have a good one too.”

…

Lieutenant Sherman stood alone in the secure cells, standing at attention and facing the cell containing the Artificer. He didn’t move for the ten minutes he was in there, even when the viewing slit on the gestalt’s cell unlatched and opened itself. Finally, there was a momentary tug on his wrist and he left.

When the door to the cells was closed, Aucrest dismissed the invisibility effect coming from an earring stashed within the feathers of his chest. He was angry, but very careful not to let that show. To him, manipulating most people was as easy as a game. While Thomas had proven resistant earlier today, a result of taking the wrong approach based on flawed assumptions, all Sherman needed was assurances and bribes to remain loyal.

He had hoped to reach the Artificer first and similarly manipulate them into an agreement favorable to the city. The ideal outcome was something akin to a non-compete contract with strictly enforced terms to both ensure Aughal would benefit from their services long-term, and prevent other regions or powerful individuals from taking more aggressive measures. How he arrived at that end depended on the Artificer’s willingness to cooperate, which at this point was out the window. Manipulating people was like a game. In this case, an idiot had played the first half and lost most of the pieces.

While the guard was within their right to detain those following an incident where lives were lost, especially when fault was in question, leaving two of three injured was unacceptable. Perhaps Sherman had thought having a class would protect them from death, and that seemed to be the case with the Artificer, whose wounds were mostly healed. At the same time, if his gestalt ally died while in Aughal’s custody, he wouldn’t just have to worry about his plan falling through. The Ironrush Ravager might level the building for that.

First things first. “Why do you have the gestalt in an unlit room?” he asked in a controlled tone.

“Lord, I figured it wouldn’t matter so long as we got him out by sunrise. Assuming you ‘worked things out’ with the Artificer. If not, we’d throw a torch in there or something.”

At least the lieutenant was knowledgeable enough to know that earth gestalt needed light to survive, but still. “A torch!? Do you not have a sunrod for this very purpose?”

“Well, not one that’ll work in that cell, Lord. Shouldn’t it be fine until morning?”

Aucrest silently uttered a prayer to the Octyrrum for there to be at least one competent, corrupt official in this city, knowing it wouldn’t be answered. “Not if they are injured. Gestalt need sunlight or the closest approximation to heal. You need to move them into a cell that your sunrod can function in!”

Sherman bristled slightly as he noticed the annoyance creeping into Aucrest’s voice. “Lord Seliri, I cannot risk my men. We were unable to fully search it, and unless you can guarantee it won’t attack them when we try to move it, I can’t authorize that. You know how hard it is to talk to weeds.”

Aucrest scowled, not having a good enough reason or the authority to countermand the Lieutenant. Still, he couldn’t let the gestalt die or all hopes of persuading the Artificer would go with them. He withdrew a bag from within his suit and transferred coins into an empty one. “Fine. Take this and send someone to emergently commission a level 5 sunrod from Arpan. I don’t care what he’s doing, this is important. You have my authority to pledge additional funds in compensation for whatever he charges.”

Sherman’s eyes widened and shone when he realized each coin was a dark green. “There’s almost a whole lapis here Lord.”

“Send someone good at negotiating. You may keep the change, assuming he doesn’t ask for more.”

“T-thank you, Lord!”

“Do not thank me yet. If that gestalt dies there will be trouble.”

“I will see that it does not Lord!” Sherman boasted, buoyed by the fresh bounty. He knew exactly who he’d send to the city’s Artificer. “As for the others, it appears they’ve both gone to rest. That’s surprising from the Artificer considering how much he’d howled in the beginning. Should I order the men to wake them up before dawn?”

“No need, let them their rest. We’re trying to make the Artificer agreeable, remember?” A slight frown crossed Sherman’s face as he realized for the first time that the way he’d done things might have made it harder for Aucrest. Another covert glance at the bag solved those worries. “As for the dusker, they aren’t resting.”

“Lord?”

“I take it you’re unfamiliar with how our night brethren function beyond the broad strokes. They can’t sleep when they’re completely inside their shells, it’s too uncomfortable. I’ve only seen one willingly stay that way in a space large enough to accommodate their full size for three reasons, aside from the sun. Grief, despair, or shame.”

“Huh. Makes sense,” Sherman lied. “I’ll get that rod then. You don’t want to take the Artificer?”

“Of course not! He is in your custody. I don’t have the authority to abduct people.”

“I could make it look like he escaped, Lord,” Sherman whispered. “You know. Just to prove how helpful I am to you.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant, but that is unnecessary.” This man is a menace. Sadly, a necessary one. The city must bear him long enough for my plans to be fully realized. “I will return a few hours after dawn tomorrow. Make sure the prisoners are fed and have a healer look at all of them sometime before dawn.”

“I don’t want to take any of them out of the cell,” Sherman said carefully. “I don’t think the other two have their Focus, but-“

“Explain that, and have a healer use non-magical remedies.” Octyrrum, why do I have to explain this to him? “Put a guard in the cell as well if you must, but I want to provide the appearance that we care about his physical condition. Do you understand all of that?”

“Yes Lord! I will go, uh, send someone to Arpan right away.”

As both left the block, Khare writhed on the cell floor. They were critically wounded. One of their vital junctions had been completely severed and that was destabilizing their entire body. It could regrow, but like all plants they needed sunlight and water. The air in this underground room was damp enough for a desert and they’d stashed water in Mobile Armory. But sunlight? Khare wouldn’t have lasted the night without what they carefully brought out when they were sure no one was nearby. Held in trembling vines, they soaked in what they could from faint light radiating off of Daniel’s phone. Of all they had on them, it was the only thing that still worked in this cell.