Icarus Awakens

Jeras didn’t have anything to let him keep time, but he knew he was running late. What had started as a quick stop to the Painted Dusk had turned into an entire affair as he’d apparently just missed who he had tried to warn. Unfortunately, after his questionable arrest the bartender on staff hadn’t even given him the time of day, which would’ve been more helpful than usual. At this rate, he wouldn’t have time to even remove his armor before meeting Kelra.

Driven as much by what he’d put into this as what was at stake, Jeras resolved to contact the other Artificer in this city, knowing from Thomas that they’d visited him yesterday. He was out on a limb but couldn’t think of anywhere else they could be.

Abandoning his pursuit had occurred to Jeras. Maybe the Artificer’s friends had found out some other way. However, his disgust with the guard’s leadership kept him going. That, and the thought of facing Kelra without having done anything putting a stone in his chest. In some way, Jeras felt that if he didn’t do anything to change how things were done in this city, then nothing would change between him and Kelra.

While not a street sweeper most days, Jeras knew the city well enough. The Artificer’s new shop was a local landmark despite its exclusivity, and steady trade with the guard for various items meant he had been sent as an errand boy a few years ago when he was lower in rank. That also meant he was familiar with how the Artificer could be.

Jeras’ fears about waiting in front of the store for a reply were dashed and replaced tenfold when he saw who was standing at the door already performing the near constant knocking needed to get Arpan’s attention. He tried to duck away, but too late. “JERAS? What are you doing here?” Lieutenant Sherman paused in his knocking but continued to hold a bag in front of the door like it owed him money.

“Uh, I, uh,”

“Still have your armor on. Did the boys find you when I asked for a runner to take this shit back?” Jeras simply had no good explanation for his presence other than the one provided. He certainly couldn’t afford anything made here. Reluctantly, he nodded. “Great! Bastards, though, not to send a dusker. But commendable. It’s this kind of attitude that will see you rise in the ranks. Now, help me break down this door.”

Some distance below them, two people sat in Arpan’s chambers while a suit of armor rushed to the door. “Another unexpected guest?” the cloaked woman asked. She’d been there since the first group had surprised her, watching carefully as the Artificer tested more of the ‘components’ she had brought. “I thought I impressed on you the importance of keeping this work discreet.”

“Come on, we’re past threats right?” Arpan asked nervously. “You’re not ending the world with these or anything. It’s not like making this formulae is against the law! They’d have to know about it first. The only thing that hurts me is if other people know what I’m doing, and you’re in a position to tell them I’ve tried. I don’t have anything to gain from selling you out.”

The perpetually cloaked figure let him hang for a few moments before simply saying, “Perhaps.”

“Look, I’ll just see who it is.” Arpan switched one eye and both ears to Dril, skin crawling as the cloaked woman moved out of sight of the other. She didn’t know which eye he was keeping on her, right? “Who are you?”

“Lieutenant Sherman! It’s about time, we have important city business. Open up!” A gruff voice bellowed through the door.

“You’re on the day shift, aren’t you? Why are you here?”

“That’s none of your business! Except, uhm, see here Artificer! We have an emergency commission. We need a level 5 sunrod. I have been authorized ten vermillion as payment.” Arpan sighed in relief and then frowned. Ok, that was an innocuous request, but the coin?

“You can dive headfirst into the Crest for that amount. Maybe on an off day, but you’re coming here in the middle of the night and expecting what I assume is an immediate turnaround.”

“Twenty!”

I hate bargaining, except when it’s in my favor. “Two lapis, one for the item and one for my trouble, if it is an ‘emergency’.” Arpan smiled, temporarily forgetting his other guest.

“Fifty. Fifty vermillion!” Sherman quickly clarified. “We just need a small one. That will take you, what, five minutes?”

Arpan nearly shut the door in the man’s face then and there. “Five? You’re looking at an hour, and that’s if I use expensive material. Fortunately, I happen to have just acquired a perfect match, but!” How much does this idiot have on him? Oh. Assess Customer became more potent at higher levels and level disparity. At level 5, Arpan learned exactly how much the level 2 Sherman had on him. He has almost a hundred vermillion on him and he opened with ten!? “For the guard, I’ll drop it to eighty.”

“Seventy five!”

Seriously? “Fine. I’m opening a hatch in the wall. Deposit the coin and I’ll have the rod out in an hour.”

“No, you don’t get the coin until I have the rod.”

“If you don’t get the rod, just arrest me,” Arpan’s voice laughed out of Dril’s neck. “I’m assuming you want your lackey there to wait for it anyway.”

Sherman hadn’t thought of that but seized on the idea. “Yes. Yes! Open the hatch.” Arpan instructed Dril to retrieve the coin and then took the heliorite breastplate down from where it was displayed.

“What are you doing? Our work is not finished.” Arpan’s senses returned to him and he noticed his visitor had backed away slightly.

“It’s a guard lieutenant. I’m sorry, but if I don’t do what they want they’ll get suspicious. Sherman is-”

“I know. Both him and his presence. My time is as valuable, if not even more than yours. I do not appreciate delays.”

Arpan sighed and spread out his hands. “None of these hearts are level 6. We’ll be here all night if you want me to test all of them. You’re the one insisting on staying to see the results personally. Just come back tomorrow and I’ll tell you if any worked. I should add that, despite your promise of payment, only the guard is actually delivering tonight.”

“You neglect to mention the considerable costs of acquiring these materials for your tests.”

Arpan sighed and began concentrating. You had to draw the line somewhere, and if she felt like killing him at least there would be two guardsmen to either arrest her or share his fate. “I’m doing this. You have my secrecy and my service, but not my undivided attention.”

She seemed to think on this for a moment before clenching one hand. “I’m taking the remaining samples. We’ll pick this up tomorrow night.”

“But-”

The Mirage agent gathered the ‘samples’ into a bag and picked it up. “Tomorrow, Artificer.”

“You can’t just leave now! They’re at the door.”

“I’ll find another way out.”

“What?”

Back outside, Sherman nodded smugly to Jeras. “See, that’s how you do it. Alright, it’s far too late in the day for me to be on duty. I’ll leave you to collect the rod and bring it back to HQ. It must get in that weed’s room, but be careful not to expose it to any dusker. Understand Jeras?”

“Yes Sir,” he replied, trying to muffle the sounds of his soul being crushed.

“Good man.” Sherman went to walk away but paused and pressed a green coin into his subordinate’s hand. Jeras only resisted briefly. “Keep it up, and there’ll be more of that coming your way.”

…

Most of the way up the Wing Spire, the westernmost in the city, Tlara briefly thought about unleashing her wyvern so it could attend the dinner in her place before shaking her head. Her father would just blow it up or something. In all honesty, she wanted nothing to do with them because they had nothing for her. Her mother was dead, her sister was obnoxious in no uncertain terms, and her father was…

Well, the old man’s sharp as fuck. Wonder what he’s planning now. Like Crest I’m going to be a part of it. She entered the quarters of her family with complete disregard for the servant staffing the door, brushing past him instead of simply identifying herself. The avianoid strode three paces to stop the intruder before coming to a stop himself.

“Oh. Welcome home, Lady Tlara.” He received no reply from the prodigal daughter and didn’t press the issue. It wasn’t his place.

The abodes within the Spires varied drastically. In the northern, Moon Spire, every floor was sized appropriately for duskers making the space gigantic for other people. While the rest were sized for the other races, they still differed from floor to floor. In general, higher floors were more ostentatious and bled into each other. A standalone mansion was impossible, but taking up the same space on three to four levels and installing passageways between them accomplished the same effect while allowing for spectacular views. The Wing Spire faced the setting sun and did not have the Thormundz mountains to block out the horizon, affording it the best view. At least, according to the avianoids primarily housed there.

Her family had been in command of the avianoid faction in the city for as long as she had been alive, meaning that the grand entryway which took up the entire lower floor of the Seliri estate was one Tlara had always walked through during childhood. The space looked like it belonged in a museum, with plinths placed at exact corners on an invisible grid to display works of art, magic, or both. The room that wasn’t taken up by the displays was used for seating, a couple of dining tables, and stairs towards the back. Notably, no decorations were hanging from the ceiling. As a matter of course, the Silver Eye had a flight item on him at all times and preferred there was always clearance to make use of it. Tlara had no such treasures and couldn’t use them if she did.

“Hey, assholes! Will you quit telling every guard in the city to get me to come here? It’s annoying.” Her voice echoed up and down the room, summoning a human from upstairs. She wore a dress heavily accented with silver feathers, stabbing Tlara in the eye with blunt metaphor.

“Tlara, dear, it is wonderful to see you’ve arrived safe from the Thormundz. When last you were here you would have known me as Lady Alecia Rodamas. I assume someone has told you of the news?”

Tlara carefully considered an appropriate response, taking into account which of her powers she could use and which were likely to have any effect. Unfortunately, none. “So, is Dad planning anything or did he just want to fuck you? Because, damn, that’s an expensive whore.”

Alecia gave a smile that showed teeth, inspiring momentary jealousy in Tlara since she couldn’t mimic the gesture. “I see all of the fond memories your father has related over the years well represent the woman you are today. I’m told you are a Beastmaster. Your pets are appropriately stabled, I hope?”

“What, them? Yeah, got them right here.” She grabbed at her waist, drawing a confused look from Alecia. “Stasis Pouches. Damn useful. This one’s a wyvern,” she pointed. “And this one’s Spinner. I’d love for you to meet that one. I’ve got some more but honestly, I’m just going to toss them off a cliff or something once something better comes along. You know that runs in the family, you might want to be careful.”

“Your father and I have an understanding,” Alecia responded cheerily, finishing with a small laugh. “The front door is closed? Good. Honestly, it’s a political marriage, but it has its perks when it comes to the bedroom.”

“Ew.”

Alecia looked momentarily surprised by her reaction but shrugged it off. “Your father and sister are both out but are expected back soon. You’re fortunate they both had business or you would have missed the meal.”

Tlara moved up to a plinth upon which rested a timepiece small enough to be worn. Through experience she knew she couldn’t topple them, but that did nothing to quench the desire. “So why am I here?”

“Isn’t it enough to catch up with your family?”

“Why don’t I be the judge of that when they get here?”

“Hmm.” Alecia put a finger to her lips and leaned against a plinth herself. “We’re not going to get along are we?”

“Fuck no.”

“Oh, that makes things so much easier.” The Lady lost a few centimeters from her height as she slouched. “Do tell you father I tried at least.”

“What?” Tlara asked flatly.

“Honestly, I don’t particularly care what a practically disowned child such as yourself thinks. You aren’t part of the bigger picture, but appearances and all of that. I’ll still ‘try’ when your father is around for his sake, but even then I think he just wants the same thing I do.”

“Fucked up head games?”

“That’s not inaccurate if put rudely. Did roughing it in the Thormundz do that to your diction or were you always like that?” Tlara extended a middle talon. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dunno, but I like it. I’ll say it means ‘fuck you’.”

“Seeing how much you like saying that, I’m surprised you created a gesture just to deprive you of the chance.”

Tlara blinked. “Ok, I know Dad didn’t push Mom off a cliff, but did you push your husband off of one? Weren’t you already married?”

“Hmm? Ah yes, Horacio. No, first I had him poisoned with enough subtle toxin to kill someone with levels, then removed his protective items during a time when he was very distracted. Astonishingly easy, both to procure the poison and deliver it. As it turns out, if you don’t fear something, you don’t protect yourself against it.” She looked wistfully out a window before continuing. “Your father knows about it of course. I think he swallowed a protective ring and then, uhm, recycled it during the first month we were together just to be sure.”

For once, Tlara was at a loss for words. She opened and closed her beak, but the mixture of curses and insults that instinctually ran out didn’t. “Damn, that’s fucked up. What kind of poison was it.”

Alecia brightened a little at Tlara’s interest, even if it was guarded. “Well, I was going to go with something from an Alchemist, but then I happened to run into this Assassin who practically gave me his finest work…”

One hour later, Aucrest Seliri returned home to find Alecia and Tlara together. He was instantly put on edge as neither were at the other’s throat. Instead, they were just talking. “Alecia? Is something wrong?”

“Oh, oh no,” the Lady answered from where she was sitting on a couch aside from Tlara, “Tlara was just telling me about a vow she made a Hero swear. Are you sure Willow’s the favorite?”

“Would it matter?” Aucrest responded dryly. “Tlara. Wonderful to see you are safe.”

“Dick.”

“Well, I believe that is enough reconciling to make up for fearing you were dead. Have you seen your sister?”

Tlara rolled her eyes. “And now the conversation’s back to her. The one without a class.”

“Your mistake is your own. I warned you not to get greedy.”

“If that was greedy, what do you call trying to take over the region?” Aucrest looked sharply to the door at that, and then to Alecia.

“I told her nothing,” she laughed.

“Have you been drinking?”

“Maybe a touch? You were quite late.”

“We found the Artificer.”

Alecia sat up. “Really? It’s not too much to hope we have a deal is it?”

“Sherman has made a mess of the affair which I am trying to-”

“Wait, hold the fuck on.” Tlara stood up. “Him? Why do you give a fuck about him?”

“He is an Artificer,” Aucrest said simply. “I thought you may know him but expected I’d have a better chance getting a wooden coin from Claret Sosa than having you give me the details.”

A small war was fought within Tlara over who she hated more, her father or that fucking Spiritualist. There was no conclusive victor. “So what, he’s the key to your plans for Octyrrum domination or something?”

Aucrest raised an eyebrow. “No. Every bit helps, of course. If you would rejoin the family, I would be grateful for-”

“Fuck no.”

“You use that word a lot,” Alecia giggled.

“Unfortunately, Tlara is still stuck in the phase where she learned what curse words are before coming to terms with what little they add to conversation.”

“And whose fucking fault is that?”

By the time Willow made it up to her family estate, it was not quite midnight but closer to it than dusk. Tlara, not having retreated from the entryway, hadn’t forced her father to raise his voice in that time. What she had accomplished was visible in the glass in his hand. Even so, her bitterness and resentment were running out of original means of expression. The air of hostility in the room might have slightly chilled until the youngest sister of the house came through the large double doors.

“Father, Lady Alecia. Sister! I tried looking for you at the guard station, Father, but they said you were busy. I thought it best to come back here.”

“Willow, we were just-”

“Hey monster fucker. Long time no see.” Willow reddened in moments and didn’t have the composure of her father. Just like that, there was shouting once more in the Seliri household. It was heated, mostly between those directly related, and venomous at baseline. Alecia for her part watched, drank, laughed, and occasionally needled different parties mid-argument. A healthy familial relationship it was not, but it was a relationship. Past the scorn, bile, and hurt in Tlara’s heart there was more of the same. Hidden away beyond even that was a memory of a time when the three standing together had been an actual family. A time far gone and buried, just like her true mother was.

…

Elsewhere, Lograve finished his advancement of the day and fell backward, grinning. It was the first he’d completed since reaching level 4. The process was frustratingly more difficult and requiring far longer immobility and concentration, but he’d done it. Hunger made him hesitate, though Lograve disciplined himself and reached out with his mind to try and contact one of the adorable scamps he kept around before eating. There was always the risk of being dragged into the latest crisis they’d run into, but what was the worst that could have happened?