Closed A Further Exchange of Information (Brandon)

[Sal Mander]

Day 71, Fall of 514 A.V.

Brandon had arrived, the young man always carrying that look of indifference about him, as though nothing in this world or any others could touch him. Sal liked that confidence. And it was confidence as far as the investigator was concerned, rather than arrogance. Others might have considered it the latter, but Sal could not give two shykes what they thought. His mind was made up. He liked the fellow and that was that.

In fact, it had really been the only reason he had agreed to help Brandon in the first place. Sal was a firm believer in helping out friends and family. After all, why else would he have risked his neck getting tangled up with Burton Tally? It was for a friend. Likewise, he had been on the verge of getting into another fine mess with another crazy merchant, once again on behalf of a friend.

It had really stemmed from the teachings of his father and brothers. Growing up in Lhavit as one of three brothers had brought with it its fair share of trouble and escapades. But Sal had benefited from being the youngest. In that instance, he had found in his brothers two protectors and guardians. In witnessing their protective nature, which itself came from a father who believed kids had to 'learn for themselves', it had installed a sense of loyalty in Sal towards his own friends as he had grown older. There was some comfort to be found in the confines of friendship, and from that the need to protect it from the perils and evils of the world was paramount.

So then, it had been some blow to Sal when both his brothers had departed Lhavit. Off to Alvadas, the pair of them with their wives, to seek fortunes beyond their home town. They had pressured Sal to go with them. But much as the draw was to remain with his brothers, Lhavit had and always would be his home. He could not turn his back on his friends, ironic in the sense that it was those very brothers who had taught Sal to be that way. There had been strong words exchanged, a brief falling out, and initially a lack of understanding. But eventually, when it was time for the two elder brothers to depart, they had all sat down and made their peace. They even respected Sal's decision to remain behind.

He sometimes wondered if he had made the right one though.

For now, his mind drifted back to friendship, offering a smile to the approaching Brandon. "I see you Djas. How are you my friend?"

[Brandon Blackwing]

Sal was already sitting there, at the spot they'd agreed on last time they'd met, when Brandon had needed not to convince the investigator to set the extremely long timespan of over sixty days. No wonder though, Sal's ego must have suffered a deadly blow when he'd had to admit he had found nothing. Brandon had merely responded to the man's apology with an 'I told you so' look, he hadn't been surprised in the slightest. Solomon Kriegsfelt wasn't a man you could just track down by using the conventional means. Yet, the bat had to admit that just giving the investigator a name wasn't all that helpful.

Though Sal might have another opinion, Brandon had found the last meeting to be rather interesting, after all, he had learned that Kriegsfelt did not appear in any of the records of the Cosmos Center, having erased his tracks and somehow made himself invisible. Using a fake name perhaps -or his real name for that matter, it could be either. It was what Brandon did too, often introducing himself as Djas when someone came to ask for his services -if they somehow had found out about his job- or if the Shinya were somehow involved. Better safe than sorry. Sal knew him by this name as well, and though they both knew it was an alias, Sal had never asked for his true name. Why, the bat did not know, but he saw the name more like a nickname than an alias, though only when Sal used it. The reason was simple; the investigator was considered a friend, and while it was strange for friends not to tell each other their names, Brandon had special circumstances due which he could not simply tell the whole world who exactly he was.

It wasn't like Brandon did not trust the investigator; but for now it was for the best he did not know. After all, he did not really want to have his connection to Kriegsfelt exposed, a matter where the name 'Brandon' might pop up at any time, depending on how high up the Cosmos Center's Bloodhound had found himself in the connections-ranking. Well, eventually he would find out no doubt, a moment Brandon feared, though he would never admit it. In general he did not care about other people's opinions about him, but that exact moment could turn a friend into an enemy, which was something the bat did not prefer to happen.

Sal's greeting went not by unnoticed, and was returned with one of Brandon's own. “Good day, Sal.” A genuine smile was beamed the investigator's way, followed by the thief wondering if he had been waiting long. The bat had never been that punctual, relying on his inner clock rather than those clocks one could find here and there -which could be bought at Lucis &Lucis of course. Some had one at home, but Brandon did not, nor did he need it. Sure, his inner clock wasn't that exact, but it was accurate enough. For appointments though....

“The same as always, I suppose. Yourself?” the bat replied, settling down on a rock as well, shifting his position until he was entirely satisfied. Comfortable, but not overly so, and from this position he could flee whenever he wanted to, should the need arise. It was a habit, one that only did not occur if he was at home -or if he had drunk quite a bit. Not that other people were likely to spot that though, part of the tactic was to make everyone believe he was comfortable, and not on guard. Brandon however always had his guard up, except at home or when he had been drinking a lot. The life of a thief was harder than one might suppose.

“So, how did it go? Did you manage to make any progress this time?” The jab all too obvious, but meant as a joke. Sal's pride could take it, probably. Last time was still fresh in his memory, though it had been quite a while ago they'd met up. At the time the investigator had reluctantly admitted he hadn't been able to find anything, probably still very aware he had claimed he'd need only seven days to complete his search. Well, to aid him Brandon had been willing to give additional information, which contained everything else he found safe to tell the man; about the akalaks and the stall, but nothing more. Sadly, except for his own connection to Solomon Kriegsfelt and the jobs he had been forced to do there wasn't anything he could tell Sal. Hopefully he'd gain some new insights now though.

credit goes to Estrellir Konrath

[Sal Mander]

True indeed that Sal's initial investigation had been an failure in terms of acquiring new information on Solomon Kriegsfelt. But perhaps finding nothing had been something in itself. Where Sal saw only failure in his own abilities, Brandon looked beyond the obvious to reveal the dark undertones that lurked underneath. In being so anonymous and hidden, at least in Lhavit's eyes were papers and registers where concerned, Solomon Kriegsfelt did not exist. It was one thing for a person to live under the attentions of the Cosmos and the Shinya in Lhavit. But to do so while running a chain of businesses, as well as pulling strings and deploying an army of pawns. Well, that was impressive.

"Actually, I may just have something for you," Sal reported, clearly relishing the chance to offer information where none had been expected. With the additional info that Brandon had offered up, it had led to Sal's second more successful investigation. Still no clues pertaining to Solomon himself, at least in terms of names and such. But there was other info that would be equally important for the bat's ears, even if some of it reflected knowledge he already possessed.

So then, the investigator set to unwrapping the revelations he had procured, such as how Solomon ran his businesses through a proxy. Mortimer Crow, official name on the papers and accountant for Kriegsfelt. Quite the find, since Mortimer Crow was the missing piece of the puzzle, or at the very least the key that opened the door to what could well have been an age long corridor of all manner of secrets.

Crow had been unwilling to talk, understandable given the stakes at risk. Brandon knew all too well about that, having had to deal with Kriegsfelt first hand. But despite the old man's reluctance to offer Sal information, his very existence was itself a treasure trove of possibilities. Crow was not near as proficient as Kriegsfelt when it came to living as a ghost. He could be more easily tracked, watched, and followed. He had no akalaks guarding him, no proxy to hide behind, and no underhand tricks up his sleeve. In many ways, for all his use as Kriegfelt's smoke shield, so too was he Kriegsfelt's weak point.

"So those are the businesses we know about...so far. There may be others. Oh, and then there's the three residential properties he owns. I've not had a chance to check them out individually. But I'm guessing your man Kriegsfelt is probably holed up in one, and Crow in another. Who knows who might be in the third. We'll know soon enough."

[Brandon Blackwing]

Surprised was not quite the word one could use to describe what the bat felt. Sure, one might have thought that after Sal's initial failure, Brandon would have discarded his hopes and trusted the skills of the investigator no longer. Yet, the bat found that Sal hadn't had a chance to prove his worth; not this time anyways. In fact, Sal had given the thief a perfect example of his capabilities back in Spring. The investigator had found out about the identity of the players, of the location the game was held at and about the inn one of them was staying. If there had been a cause for doubt, a quick reminiscence of the card game and the preparations had been more than enough to erase it from the Kelvic's mind.

He'd put his trust in Sal, the man would not fail, not with such a abundance of time to complete his assignment. Or had it just been barely enough to investigate such an elusive character such as Kriegsfelt? Perhaps, but that was none of his business. The important thing was that Sal sounded confident of his words, his rather smug comeback to the bat's joke alone was more than sufficient to make Brandon eager to hear the man's words and findings.

And he was not disappointed.

While there was no talk, nor clues about Kriegsfelt himself, it seemed Sal had managed to get a lot of information about the businesses he ran, having found out about Solomon using a proxy to manage everything. Now that was interesting! Mortimer Crow, eh? Maybe he should pay the man a visit some day, talk to him about Solomon, as a fellow employee, it wouldn't be too hard to convince him of- But what if the man was working for Kriegsfelt out of free will? Brandon couldn't just assume everyone working for Mr. Black -as Kriegsfelt seemed to enjoy being called- was being blackmailed or threatened into it. Surely there were a couple folks here and there who would lend their services for coin. Like Dragha and Bragha, the Akalak duo. There was no way they would stay at Kriegsfelt's side without being paid.

Sal then mentioned Crow's unwillingness to talk to him about his situation, something Brandon could understand all too well indeed. He too would not want to talk about it, even if he was found out... Or maybe he would, once found out there was nothing he could do about it. If there was proof, he couldn't possibly deny it. Well, he could, but it would serve no purpose.

More findings were reported, such as the various shops and businesses Kriegsfelt owned, or at this Mortimer Crow owned to be exact. And then he spoke of three houses owned by him, the investigator guessing Kriegsfelt lived in one of those. Brandon doubted that however, that piece of information he had heard before... Hadn't Kriegsfelt said he owned three -four before Bran had burned one down- simple residences? There was no way the merchant would live in one of those; yet those thoughts were not shared, the bat did not want to risk being asked prying questions.

Instead he merely nodded, one hand rubbing his chin in thought, storing away the new bits of information he'd acquired. Were they useful? Yes and no. Any tiny bit of new intelligence was useful of course, but it wasn't like Brandon could do much with it. That and none of his questions had actually been answered. Sal wasn't to blame for that of course, Kriegsfelt was a tricky person to investigate. Oh well.

“Say, do you want to go for a drink? A game of cards perhaps?” It would help him put his thoughts in order, and he'd be able to relax, something that was rarely done lately with Kriegsfelt annoying him with his odd assignments. “Or are you supposed to be working?” True, there was such a thing as work. Because the bat did not really have a job himself he was free to loaf around all day, but not everyone had that luxury.

credit goes to Estrellir Konrath

[Sal Mander]

"What makes you think I'm not working right now?" Sal said with a grin, before giving Brandon a hearty slap on the back. "Come on." The two men ventured off in search of refreshment and further conversation, perhaps even a game of cards. Though if Sal had a say in the matter, he would have preferred Stammer and Blush not be one of those games.

"Domo Tachi," Sal proclaimed, slapping down the Nine of Moons. "That's three in a row. Are you sure you don't want me to go over the rules again?" Sal's question was rhetoric, clearly relishing his victory over the younger lad, as well as the prospect of being able to tease him. As Brandon set to shuffling the deck once more, Sal emptied his tankard, the spicy nectar warming his throat pleasingly. In truth he was not much of a drinker these days. He never had been really, at least not frequently like some of his friends. It was one of his brothers, the blacksmith, who had been the drinker of the family. Sal to this day did not know how he managed it. He would get literally blind drunk, to the point where whoever was left with him at the tavern had to drag him home. Yet the next morning, he would be at the smithy ready to work, and never late.

Sal looked around the tavern now, watching with curious eyes at the other patrons. People, that came in all shapes and sizes, wearing their chosen outfits, some with caps or hats, others sporting jackets and coats of varying cuts and styles. There was a predominant Lhavitian style clear to see, but here and there small influences from across Mizahar popped up. Likewise the occasional non-human was dotted about. Though their kind made up a very small percentage of Lhavit, there was still enough that their presence was hardly worth more than a glance.

His attention turned back to Brandon, the kelvic lad who he had known for some time now. He recalled that first meeting, out in the cold of winter amidst the ice and snow. Such was the manner that Brandon had come crashing into his life, that Sal wondered if he would depart in much the same manner. Though he had never directly asked, nor had Brandon freely offered the information, he knew the bat to be a thief. True, he did not know to what extent his thievery stretched, or that if it was merely a matter of necessity or greed. Or something else entirely. But he had never had a problem with it. In fact, as much as Sal recognized the necessity of laws for people to lead a civilized coexistence, so too did he regard such rules as more guidelines, ones that could and would be bent and manipulated to suite the situation.

That was really a demonstration of double standards if Sal was honest. How could he on the one hand take on Burton Tally on behalf of a friend who had lost money to him, when here he sat across from a man he knew to be a thief? Well it was simple. Brandon was a friend. Burton Tally was not. Sal Mander always believed that friends came first, along with all their baggage, secrets, warts and all. But that train of thought led down a darker path. Just how far was he willing to go to help out a friend in need?

[Brandon Blackwing]

The smug look on Sal's face irritated Brandon to no end, even more so because the investigator had managed to win three times in a row already, and this was their third game! Obviously, card games were not the bat's forte, though he actually had come to like them more than one would have expected. They were complicated at times, yes, but also a really fun way to pass the time. That said, except for Bullshyke and Stammer and Blush -which he now had a relative good grasp of- most games were unknown to him. Like this game. What was it called again?

Sal's teasing offer to explain the rules again was actually something the bat would have taken, if not for the smirk on his friend's face. He wouldn't admit it, he refused to ask him again. So what if he lost, it was no real problem, there was no money on the line this time. Or lives. He sighed as he gathered all the cards, and tried to recall what he had to do to win. Sal had explained twice already, since Brandon hadn't really understood the first time, but then he had claimed to get it and they'd started playing, which had resulted in three losses.

With astounding speed and finesse, mainly thanks to his occupation, Brandon shuffled the deck a couple times, the process taking no time at all. However, sleigh of hand was something Brandon excelled at, cheating a bit, making it so the cards they'd played last game were back on top in the order they had been played. He had to put quite a lot of effort in not letting his mischievous grin show, that would ruin everything. Fortunately, the bat had some experience when it came to such acts, so it wasn't that hard to pretend to be a little annoyed still.

Then he started dealing the cards, making sure that every card Sal had played last round were now his, and Bran's were now Sal's. Excellent! He'd wipe that grin off of the investigator's face, oh just you wait! Now he couldn't lose! There wasn't a way Sal could have noticed by keeping an eye on Brandon, his movements had been too fast. Maybe he would recognize the cards, but he wondered if the investigator was that attentive. At the moment he was still scanning the rest of the tavern with eyes that were unfocused, obviously thinking of something else.

* * *

Frustrated, the bat turned away from the smug look slapped on the investigator's visage, ordering another drink and crossed his arms. How the heck had he lost again? He had used Sal's cards of last round, and Sal had used his, and still he had lost! Was that even possible? Or did the bat just suck too much at this particular game of cards that there was no way he could possibly not lose? He sighed deeply and shook his head, one hand running through his grey mane. The waitress was thanked for the drink when she brought it, and a large gulp was taken, after which Brandon let out another sigh, defeated.

“Alright, explain the rules again. This isn't going to be exciting if I can't even comprehend what we are doing.” the bat stated, still unwilling to look at the investigator's face. Out of the corners of his eyes though, the thief caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a growing smirk. Just you wait Sal, Brandon would wipe that smugness off of your face next round for sure!

credit goes to Estrellir Konrath

[Sal Mander]

With a couple of drinks in his belly, Sal had found his curiosity concerning Brandon grow somewhat. So too did the drink leave him a little bolder, willing to ask questions that previously he may have neglected to ask at all. But here they were, two friends sharing drinks and cards. They had been through some interesting situations together, the kind that spun the durable and strong bonds of trust and friendship, that wrapped and enveloped themselves around the two men. In short, Sal felt quite confident that Brandon could be coaxed into offering up more information. And why would the investigator not ask? After all, information was his life source. He craved it; needed it almost, as if the pursuit of information was as necessary as breathing.

"Sure, we can go over it again. But maybe this game is just not for you." Sal's smirk was now a genuine smile, since he had not intended to piss the bat off. Instead he set to collecting up all the cards, and was now sifting through them until he plucked out a couple. Placing them down before Brandon, the kelvic noted that the first was an ominous looking figure, face partially covered by the black hood of his cloak, with only a devilish grin showing. The second was similar, only this time the figure wore a white hood of similar design, and was smiling rather than sneering. "These two are boss guards see? They give bonuses to your minion cards and reduce penalties when they're in play. Think of them as Tally cards...or Kriegsfelt even." Sal paused for a moment, making sure he had got the bat's attention.

Next he had another batch of cards, explaining each of them as he laid them down. These were minion cards, each with varying attributes that made them either good attack or defense cards, while others had less direct impact on the round, but instead offered further bonuses for a player's own minions in his hand, or penalties towards the opponent's cards. "Here is the two headed glassbeak. Strong in attack, even more so with a boss card behind it. Almost like a pair of akalaks, you could say." Next was a series of rather low leveled cards, which Sal explained as 'like Tally's thugs'. These were the lowest of the minion cards, useful in numbers, but offering little in individual might. Next came a card bearing the image of a large tome, one of the deck's many resource cards, which themselves could be applied to other cards during a player's turn for one time bonuses. "This one is a wisdom bonus. Kind of like, oh I don't know, Mortimer Crow for example? He has a lot of wisdom stashed away in his head and that book of his. Just a shame he's not so willing to share it."

Onwards Sal went, drawing comparisons from the cards with the likes of Marion Moore, Johnson Altman, and not forgetting perhaps their favorite acquaintance, Mauritius Riptide. Despite the ogling from Riptide at Brandon's expense, there was no denying the man had more than his fair share of charisma. Besides, he had more or less helped Sal and Brandon out of the whole Burton Tally situation. But in any case, the whole point of this new explanation of the cards was to get Brandon's mind back on more present events, namely those concerning Solomon Kriegsfelt. Sal's investigation had only scratched the surface. But it had been enough to light a small ember of curiosity that had only grown more each time he thought about it, into an all consuming blaze.

"We're friends, right?" Sal asked inquisitively as he placed the remaining deck of cards on the table. "It's just, well, I can't help but think there's more to this Kriegsfelt situation than you're letting on."

[Brandon Blackwing]

Even though having asked for the rules once more, Brandon found himself not really caring about them after a while. It was too complicated, too utterly strange and perhaps just like Sal had said, not a game for him. And why would it be? What kind of insane person had invented this complex game of cards with boss cards, minions and dual headed glassbeaks? When he'd suggested to go play a game of cards he'd wanted to play something like Stammer, or Bullshyke, not this... what was it called again? Never mind that! How crazy did one have to be to create such a game? This was no fun! This was terribly complicated and unnecessary so!

Sal did his best to explain though, comparing it to figures Brandon had encountered during the seasons spent in Lhavit, but it helped but very little. Most of the meanings of the cards were lost on him and he honestly didn't care either. Anything too complicated could not be called a game and as such wasn't any fun to play. Period. There was one thing he did get though; this game was all about strategy, it seemed, and this observation was shared with the investigator, who confirmed this and then continued, now blabbing about this card being like Altman; no use at all, except for making money.

A sigh escaped him and while the bat took a gulp of his ale -which was a tad bit bitter to his taste- he decided to pretend to be listening and zone out instead. And so it was done, Brandon spaced out, staring past Sal into the nothingness. With his onyx orbs it might have appeared as if he was able to stare right through him, right into the core of his soul as it were. Some drunk girl had once stated something like that when he'd been flirting nights ago. No success though, even if mating season had fueled his actions. It mattered little, he'd given in to temptation either way, and for the sake of doing what his instincts told him to -which he had supposed would make him feel a little better- and had headed for a nearby cave to go try his luck with some of the winged residents there. As to be expected, those were more compliant.

The grin that had appeared on his face was wiped away by Sal's question, and it was heard loud and clear too. Kriegsfelt eh? Well, Sal was right of course, but telling the investigator just how deep he was involved in this mess was out of the question. There was no telling what Kriegsfelt would do if he found out. Right now Sal knew nothing about Brandon's involvement, and while that Mortimer Crow guy might know about Kriegsfelt having a thief in his employ, he wouldn't know it was Brandon. From what he'd gathered, it was very likely that Mortimer was more than a little scared of Kriegsfelt and what would happen to him if he was to fail the merchant. It was possible that if Sal was to share some knowledge with the man, Kriegsfelt would find out. In short, it was not safe. Besides, Brandon had no desire to let anyone know he was being forced into working for anyone. A thief had his pride.

“Well, that's your job to find out, isn't it?” Brandon stated, an eyebrow raised and emotions hidden. “If you truly want to know what made me aware of Kriegsfelt I can tell you that.” Carefully, the bat leaned closer, Sal mimicking that motion no doubt. A whisper left his lungs, rolling of his tongue as a lie. Or a modified truth. “You have heard of Incognito, right? Well, I did some digging of my own, as I was kind of intrigued. That's when I found out about Kriegsfelt. Apparently Incognito works for him, though I suppose it may be a similar case to Mortimer Crow.”

credit goes to Estrellir Konrath

[Sal Mander]

Incognito. Sal had heard the name, along with every other person who had stepped into a tavern or inn. Even those who did not enjoy a mug of ale or cup of wine had probably heard it too. Gossip traveled fast in Lhavit, like an okomo prodded in its hide with a red hot poker. Even so, the investigator was not buying it. "Nonsense," he announced, sitting back in his chair with all the certainty in the world that Brandon was talking hogwash. "You want me to believe that a master thief, who lives secretly in the shadows and on the tongues of gossiping housewives, is in the employ of a greedy market stall merchant?" He punctuated this statement with a mighty laugh.

"Now as for Mortimer Crow, I can tell you honest and true, that man is not best pleased about being in the employ of Kriegsfelt. Wouldn't say a word as soon as I brought him up. I know fear when I see it Djas. Trust me on that." Sal took the opportunity, having made his own case for the theory of Incognito, to drain his mug of its remaining contents. While Brandon had found the taste a little on the bitter side, for Sal it was a delightful and woody flavor, with just the right amount of a nutty aftertaste that was most agreeable with his palette. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, Sal added another observation, though in the manner of an afterthought, as if the subject was not particularly worthy of any real serious thought.

"If you ask me, this Incognito fellow is just some story made up to scare kids at night. Nothing more than a shadow." Sal was confident in his assessment, though it had occurred to him that Djas had skirted around the question depending on how you looked at it. He decided that the bat was not going to give up much more than he already had, a fact that left Sal feeling equally disappointed in the loss of potential information as it did in how he felt about their friendship. He liked the notion that they might both have been willing to share more than the ordinary topics of conversation. But, he had to respect the man's privacy. It was at times like this that auristics would have been a handy trick to have up one's sleeve.

"Say, what about a game of dice?"

[Brandon Blackwing]

While Sal dismissed the bat's true words as nonsense, he could not help but feel a lot of pride swelling inside him, a bubble growing larger and larger, about to burst any chime. A master thief? He was not nearly as great as Sal was portraying him, but the investigator didn't believe him when he spoken the truth when talking about Incognito's employer. Unfortunately, he had to admit that it did not seem all that realistic. Though not a complete fantasy either, it was known that masters in the art of larceny sometimes lent their aid to people who had a lot of coin and an interesting job proposal.

The continuation of words uttered by the investigator made the bat realize he had made a terrible mistake. Sal had indeed talked about Crow, but had only reported that the man did not want to share any information, and Brandon had known why. The man was scared, just like the investigator stated, but never had they spoken about why he was scared, or why Crow had been reluctant to talk. It had been a slip of the tongue, a mistake. Was it because of the ale? He'd have to watch his words more carefully, if the investigator had been paying attention he could have deduced a couple things, for example that Brandon had actually dropped a lot of hints in regards to his situation. Fortunately, Sal did not seem to have noticed what exactly Brandon had said, or maybe misunderstood it. Because of the ale too, perhaps? Either way, it was a good thing... probably.

After a gulp of ale, which the bat used to structure his thoughts and get his act together -which in hindsight wasn't the best option as it had been the ale that had elicited the mistake in the first place- Sal continued to speak, now dismissing the existence of Incognito altogether. Someone's imagination, he'd called it, a shadow. Well, he was a shadow, a phantom if you will, and made up? Yes, by Brandon himself. The entity of Incognito was made up, an act, a persona to hide the face of Brandon Blackwing from the world, to hide the shame of having to work for Kriegsfelt. Nevertheless, he was proud of what he had accomplished wearing that disguise, by playing Incognito; the whole city had hear of him, people feared him, and best of all some doubted his very existence. He was a ghost indeed, a phantom. The phantom thief Incognito, the shadow that stalked through the night.

But if he had to choose, he'd rather have people know he existed instead of them believing he was merely a fantasy. It pained him really, to have his life denied by a friend; the reason why he'd been leaving the notes was just because no-one could deny his existence, so he would be known! And yet... But the notes did their job, and they would now too. He'd make Sal believe in him, he'd make him admit Incognito was not a hallucination or a tall tale. He was real! Brandon was real! “So, if he does not exist, then how do you explain the crimes? The notes left behind? They happened! They were there!” Somehow the bat made it sound like a list of facts, instead of a cry for recognition.

“Besides, who is rumored to have broken into the Councillor's mansion? Indeed, it was Incognito. I heard from some Shinya at the Demise that it was his work, there was a taunt left behind, scribbled on a desk. That's not all though, remember what Kriegsfelt had? What I stole from him? The edict of the third law,” Brandon reminded the investigator stubbornly. “I doubt a fantasy could have stolen it.” The thief raised an eyebrow, raising his mug to take another gulp of ale, wiping his lips with his free hand while placing it back down.

“Now what's that game of dice you're talking about?” the Kelvic asked, suspiciously as it was a drastic change of subject. That couldn't be something Sal would propose without some sort of ulterior motive. Perhaps he wanted to place a bet, information or something like that. A frown furrowed his brow. “Before I accept, tell me if we're going to bet something. And the rules of the game we're going to play.” A grin.

credit goes to Estrellir Konrath