Closed Gravoria Manent

[Brandon Blackwing]

x

The 77th of Winter 514AV

The spartan furnishings in the small apartment reminded the bat quite a bit of his own flat, which was not very surprising since both were owned by Solomon Kriegsfelt. Apart from a closet, a table and a chair there wasn’t anything in the room, but that didn’t matter at all. Brandon did not need to live there anyway, only hold the councilor captive for a couple of bells, or rather keep her here a couple bells longer. That sleeping drug she used seemed to be quite effective, for Alses hadn’t woken up when the bat had transferred her to the shack, nor when he had placed her on a chair and tied her up –gently, but still. To make a good -or not so bad- impression, the thief had dressed the Ethaefal in mortal seeming in the uniform he’d worn to bypass the guards at her mansion.


Of course, Brandon had no problems with nudity whatsoever, but it was rather cold this time around, and there was no firewood present in the residence. Clad in his leather armor, the bat hasn’t quite affected, but it was still chilly. Ah well. It couldn’t be helped, it all served a purpose, the purpose of buying the thief enough time to negotiate with Alses. He’d need that time, apparently the councilor was no slouch when it came to rhetoric. She was a politician after all. It mattered not, she’d have to accept, it was in her best interest to do so, and Brandon would use any weapon at his disposal to make her. Social weapons of course, there was no use in threatening her, she was his only chance to save his own hide.

He sighed, staring at the mask that lied on the table, next to where his body was sitting, a dagger in hand. It would still take a while before the councilor would wake up, presumably around sunrise, which was still bells away. Maybe he should have delayed the kidnapping a bit, but then again, why would he wait? This was an all or nothing situation. Being bored now was preferred over missing his chance and salvation. And besides, he could still keep himself busy, like he had done for over a bell or so. Target practice on a closet wasn’t an ideal form of entertainment, and Kriegsfelt wouldn’t like him damaging his property, but for all Brandon cared, Kriegsfelt could go petch himself. This was the day he’d break his chains and regain his freedom, or so he hoped. It all depended on the Councilor’s reasonability.

With a flick of his wrist and the bringing down of his arm, the blade was hurled towards its target, striking the closet, though nowhere near the spot he’d aimed for. Caring but very little, Brandon unsheathed another of his weapons and repeated the process, with the same result, though this time on the other side of the target. His focus wasn’t there, the thief’s attention drifted back to the Konti tied to the chair, unfamiliar with the scaled race, though that wasn’t the issue here. The Kelvic merely wanted her to wake up soon, worry rippling through his mind as he thought about possible negative outcomes. They’d both end up dead, though he sooner than her. Of course the bat had practiced how to start the conversation, even considering an apology… that idea had been dismissed immediately though, he did not have to apologize for doing things he did not want to do. In fact, Alses should be grateful Brandon did not do what he was told to do, her unlimited lifespan would have ended already. Another dagger was flung, though because the bat had not been paying attention, the weapon struck the wood with the hilt and bounced off.

Another sigh tore itself out of his lungs as the bat got up from his seat and walked over to the closet where all of his daggers could be found and collected them one by one, sheathing them again. Then he slouched back to the table and laid himself on his back, closing his eyes for a few ticks. As much as he wanted to, sleeping was a bad idea, he had to stay awake and aware, in case the councilor woke up sooner than expected.

T

The sun was rising, bright rays of Syna’s light made it through the windows, through the small gap left by the closed curtains. The Konti on the chair underwent a stunning transformation; turning from a fishlike, pale girl into a shiny, perfect and horned Ethaefal. Perfect was indeed the word, it was strange, it was otherworldly. A stark contrast to the rest of the world and its creatures. She started to stir too, held back by the ropes. Was the drug wearing off? The thief couldn’t be sure, but just in case he put his mask back on, his identity concealed by the white, featureless coverage. Not that it would help a lot when facing an aurist such as Alses, but it was the principle. There was no better way to make her aware of her situation than this; everyone knew who Incognito was, everyone had heard of the vague description and while there were variations, the real deal was sitting right in front of the Eth.

Even if she did not believe the real Incognito was keeping her captive, she only had to question what exactly he had been doing in her mansion, what had happened to the Animation Studio and about all other instances where there had been notes found signed by the somewhat-legendary thief. He could even just write a note and his handwriting would label him as the man behind the mask. Well, should he have had ink to his disposal, that is.

x

credit goes to Euthisa

[Alses]

Waking from Sweet Oblivion was always a trial. The distilled and concentrated kariino extract relinquished its hold only reluctantly, doing its level best to hold her in Nysel's realm of dreams and possibility. Alses was swimming in a warm sea of purple molasses, her muscles as relaxed and loose and weak as overcooked noodles, the beguiling scent of the stuff still in her nostrils, lulling her back to rest.

That said, though, the Change had come upon her with the dawn, and with it her internal clock, synchronised eternally and faithfully to the waxing and waning of the sun with the seasons, kicked her into action, the purple drug draining away from her higher brain functions as Syna's photon rain brought her to wakefulness whether she wanted it or not.

Eyes still closed, she turned over – or attempted to, at any rate, expecting the yielding softness of feather-stuffed pillows and the delicious smoothness of silken sheets gliding over her body. Instead, Brandon's ropes tightened around her form, already biting uncomfortably tight – Alses the Ethaefal was rather bigger, being built to the voluptuous pre-Valterrian ideal of beauty, than her lithe Konti chain.

Fire-opal skin bent and kinked and paled as it strained against her bonds, attempting a morning stretch and being cruelly restrained. Failing to turn over was one thing; Alses had woken up more than once before wrapped tightly in her own bedclothes, a sort of ersatz straitjacket, but to fail at a stretch...ancient instincts kicked in, adrenaline beginning to surge and her heart rate rising rapidly from the deep, slow pulse of sleep.

Something was wrong; now she was a little more awake, a little more aware, she could feel hardness beneath her, not the yielding give of her mattress, and cool breezes touched and tickled her skin. A potpourri of unfamiliar smells assailed her nostrils as she breathed in, eyelids receding from golden eyes and letting the sight of the world flood in.

'Where in Syna's burning name am I?' she thought, a rising tide of panic and disorientation filling her mind like smoke.

Quick and darting, the flickering glances of a cornered animal, her gaze drank in her surroundings, noting and tagging and flagging it, every sense extended to the full and on the hunt for anything that would scream 'danger'.

As a corollary to the purely physical reaction, Alses' magic exploded outwards, hurled in a gossamer-fine expanding veil from her golden core, bleeding from every pore in her body, reaching blindly for anything that would help her make sense of her situation, of where she was.

She was adrift, disoriented, confused, flailing blindly through Mizahar without an anchor. It was unpleasantly akin to the first ticks and chimes after her Fall, surprised and confused and frightened by everything and everyone, all of it new and baffling, and in response her soul grabbed anything that could tell her more.

The returning impressions from her magic hit her solidly, a brutal hammer-blow of information that rocked her head back as the auras roared their secrets into her hungry brain. Spartan furnishings, all her impressions of it thin and sepia-toned, the air full of the whispering susurrus of dust.

Nothing at all like her own bedroom, its baroque magnificence comforting and homely now.

“Where...where are we?” she burbled groggily, still coming round, the question asked of the world in general even as the sensation of bat-wings on her face and the shriek of a call too high for normal ears to hear assailed her auristics-primed mind, a tumbling charivari of batty bodies leavened with the rich stink of fear and the heady dash of risk.

Entirely on automatic, her head swung towards the source of that aura – it, at least, was still free, unencumbered by whatever held her. She looked down, saw the ropes, and her chest swelled with righteous fury, stretching her bonds considerably. Rising rage had to compete with curiosity; the two swiftly duelled for dominance in her brain before anger won out and got control of her tongue. “What the petching arse...?”

Alses flexed her arm experimentally against the cords; all she achieved was to swivel whatever she was bound to a little way, with a loud squeak of wood on stone. “What in Syna's flaming knickers have...you...done...?” it was at this point that Alses' brain, shaking off the last vestiges of Sweet Oblivion, finally kicked into gear. She knew that aura, had felt its greasy, larcenous imprint smeared through her home once before, had seen its fading trail in other places, too.

“You!” she hissed, and it was a hiss, a low sound of compressed vitriol, leavened with anger and spiced with surprise. “Let us out at once!”

[Brandon Blackwing]

x

Alses's return to the world of awareness couldn't have been more entertaining. Under his mask, the bat could not help but crack a smile at the sight, the confusion that showed on her face and in her actions. The feeling of being unable to move, the ropes holding her back, the position she was seated in; all unfamiliar no doubt, all confusing. After the initial confusion came panic. It opened her eyes quickly -quite literally too- making them dart from one thing to another, probably unable to see much in the relative darkness of the room. Brandon had no trouble with the lack of light; he'd been in here for bells, his eyes had had a long time to adapt.

For the sake of letting the situation sink into her mind, the thief stayed quiet and did not move in the slightest, letting the Councillor take in everything she could, letting her become aware of her situation. A shock would be the best soil for a negotiation, hopefully. The Ethaefal was angry of course, testing the ropes that bound her, shoving her seat a little bit, but it did not help one bit. It was quality rope, and Brandon had done his utmost best to put some untangleable knots in there, breaking free wouldn't be so easy.

Ah, he'd been noticed at last, it seemed, realization clear as skyglass showing on her face, a hiss of anger and surprise escaping her throat. The bat raised his hands a little and did a half-shrug, nodding once. “Me indeed.” A grin. Well, that did not really make her any less furious, but it did not matter in the slightest. “Of course! Let me just untie you and-” the thief offered, getting off the table and on his feet. “Like hell I'll do that,” he then grinned, returning to his seat on the tabletop. “After I went through the trouble of bringing you here, you seriously think I'll just let you go? Just because you demand it?” He shook his head and sighed. “Though I guess it's just as good a try as any.”

Then he returned to silence for a bit, letting the Councillor rage if she so desired; he could always gag her if she got too loud. Not that he believed it would matter, they were in a shack in the outskirts of Zintia peak, there wasn't much traffic here, nor people passing by. Location didn't really alter the thickness of the walls either; this place was pretty much isolated from the rest of the city. A perfect spot for a would-be kidnapper to transport his victims to.

“Right, now before you go making hollow threats, I'd like you to know there won't be anyone coming to your rescue any time soon. As it happened I did plan this little relocation of your person quite well, and according to my observations, you shouldn't be missed for at least another bell or so. Mainly due to your lack of staff, and your own personal daily rhythm.” Brandon smirked, disclosing information wasn't really a matter he had to be concerned about; only his identity and home were to be kept secret, otherwise there wasn't much to hide. Of course he would withhold whatever sensitive information he'd use to bargain until a deal was made, but any other information the Councillor couldn't do anything with anyway? There was no disadvantage of withholding it.

“I would imagine that your butler would of course be the only one to actually feel like something is amiss when you would usually have shown your face already, but he's been taken care of too.” A brief pause. “Don't worry about him he's alive and well, though he'll have a bit of a headache and maybe he'll be a little stiff afterwards, but that is to be expected.” A shrug. “So you see, it will take quite a while until your-” he waved his hand in the air, searching for the right word, “employees at the tower will notice someone's not there. Then for them to check your home, and alarm the Shinya, and for the Shinya to find this place... well, it's not something that can be done in a single bell.” Another shrug.

“As for the guards at your gates, well, it's almost time for the change of the guards is it not? They'll probably think you've already left for the tower, where else could you possibly be otherwise?” He laughed at that, very amused at having outsmarted the Shinya. “Of course, this city being safe as it is people do underestimate what a man like myself can do. I mean, you have to be good to succeed in a city like this, you know? And of course, I am quite skilled in my field of expertise,” he stated cheerily, maybe a bit too cheery for this occasion. Perhaps it was because he knew his own situation would soon be resolved. “But honestly, I had expected you to have increased your security. The how many-th time I got in is this? Third? It wasn't even hard to get in or out. A word of advice: don't make it too easy. It'll help in preventing situations like this.” The thief chuckled mockingly.

“But enough about that, lets talk about you.” He stood up then, starting to pace through the room, approaching the Councillor and walking a full circle around her, stopping right in front of her bound form. “Say, Councillor of Magic and Foreign Affairs, Alses, do you know why you are here?”

x

credit goes to Euthisa

[Alses]

“Worth a try,” she growled, rage making her voice thick and low. “And we don't make hollow threats, either.”

Her captor's louche indolence, and the grating smugness in his voice and washing through that flying-rat aura of his, wasn't helping Alses' equipoise, and the red whispers of fury were already suggesting inventive things to do to the thief.

Once she got free.

That was the sticking point, the thing that filled her in about equal quantity with anger and surprise and chagrin – she was a prisoner. An abductee. Her! The laurelled Councillor Radiant! She was supposed to have been protected! Shinya guards, informants, competent people skilled in thinking like a criminal were supposed to keep her safe! And instead, here she was, spirited gods-knew-where away from Elysium Hall by a smugly-grinning thief, of all things.

Ugh.

Listening to him pontificate about his own excellence, and the failings of her security, grated like nails across the blackboard of her soul. Her glare should, by rights, have flashed Brandon into a clinker statue in an instant, but gods and magic were evidently not on her side and the insolent brat lounged in front of her, entirely unharmed and grinning like her fury as though the whole sorry affair was some giant joke for his amusement.

She registered a flicker of worry for Silver at the news that her butler had been...incapacitated...by the thief. Maximilian Silver was not a young man any more, and he had a wife and family in the city who would doubtless be devastated if Brandon's methods had been too rough.

No time to think about that now – although in the back of her mind the dispassionate part of her carefully inked another black mark on the thief's tally sheet. They really were stacking up.

“Security was increased,” she muttered with a rueful scowl. “Or should have been. Each time, we raised it with the Ascendant and he...” she made a motion as if to wave a hand, the ropes squeezing her arm tight. She pressed her lips together in a tight, bloodless line and sighed heavily through her nose. “...he increased the guards, the surveillance, asked around for information, did whatever it is that the Shinya do to keep people safe from your sort and your criminal minds.” A pause.

“Obviously, they've signally failed in their duty. If you want something done...” she growled, more to herself than Brandon, making a mental note to turn Elysium Hall into a petching fortress at the earliest opportunity, and damn the Shinya assurances. Providing she got out of this, anyway.

“And no. No, surprisingly, we don't know why you decided to take us from my home. What do you want? Money? These days we're quite rich...although you've never taken anything that valuable from us in the past...”

Keeping him talking, that was the thing. Violence didn't seem to particularly be on the cards at the moment, which was good, since she'd have no way of escaping it, being trussed up like one of the birds Alses occasionally saw when she passed the Jugged Hare on business.

People didn't generally go to such lengths merely to kill someone – although here Alses was queasily reminded of Hayani, and the strange madness which had gripped the Anchorite in her final days.

Brandon didn't seem to have that particular coldness, that squirming oddity of a mind that had bent and broken, but still...Alses was still weak from the night, and the gloom of the room wasn't helping her – as it was, the only weapon, of sorts, available to her was words.

Yes, if she could keep him wittering away, every tick and chime meant more time for someone to realise she was missing – maybe Silver to wake up and raise the alarm – and for the Shinya to scour the city for her. The more he talked, the more time there would be, and the more she might learn, as well.

[Brandon Blackwing]

x

“Money?” the bat repeated, half surprised and half having expected the answer. An abduction was usually carried out to gain something indeed, usually money. True, Brandon did hope to gain something from this little plan, though it wasn’t coin. “Oh, no. If I wanted money I could have just robbed you blind while you were sound asleep. No, it’s not money.” He paused for a bit, bringing one gloved hand up to tap this mask on the place his chin would have been. “True, I don’t usually take things of high value when I don’t feel like it. I mean, reward for your efforts is nice and all, but it comes only in third in terms of importance…” he trailed off, eyes settling once more on the Councillor, having noticed the lack of reaction from her part. No impatient interruptions to tell him to get to the point, nothing.

Under his mask, Brandon frowned lightly, figuring she was up to something. Buying time by letting him ramble on, perhaps? Hm, possible, Brandon had used that tactic himself once before too, when he’d been bound. Back then he’d been actively working on his escape though, something the Councillor did not seem to be doing. Was she waiting for the Shinya then? Most likely. Perhaps she was hoping for someone to notice her absence. Too bad for her, only those at her workplace would notice, and maybe the guards at her gate; but only within a bell or so; it was too early in the morning, Alses wouldn’t have been on her way to the tower yet even if she’d been able to.

The only person who could and probably had already figured this all out was the butler, but the man was bound, gagged and locked up in a room, his keys removed from his person and buried between the roots of a potted plant in the hallways. Nope, that guy wouldn’t be able to change a thing. Too bad, Councillor, too bad. This is exactly what I mean with people underestimating me. It’s not because I am a thief that I’m stupid. He grinned smugly, looking down upon the bound Eth and continued pacing about, chuckling for a good chime or so, confident in his own plan and abilities.

“Where was I? … Oh yes. The ‘why’ of this whole scheme.” Brandon clapped his hands together, positioned himself back on top of the table in front of the Ethaefal and conjured up a dagger from underneath his cloak. “It’s simple really, I’m supposed to get rid of you-” the thief changed his grip, withdrew his arm and launched the blade towards his hostage, not actually aiming at her, but at a spot half a meter to her side. Nevertheless, the weapon cut through the air way closer to the woman than he’d anticipated before piercing the wall partially and not coming back out. Nevertheless, the bat did not hesitate one bit, continuing his line immediately after having released the blade, figuring this was actually better than missing her by half a meter. This would be way more shocking, dramatic. “-If you know what I mean.”

A shrug followed, and he hopped off the tabletop once more, going to retrieve his weapon and sheathed it again with a swift motion. “You got on someone’s bad side. Any idea how? It’s not really all that hard either. Think.” On a whim, the bat reached under his cloak again, unsheathing a blade and started carving in the wall –well, scraping off the paint was more accurate. He formed letters, words. Then, once he was finished, he turned back to the Councillor. “Time’s up,”he informed her, and turned the chair around, allowing Alses to see and read what he’d carved: Third Law. “See, pretty predictable, right? I mean, lots of people were not really pleased with the changes you made, or the way you went about doing it.” Another shrug, the bat himself couldn’t really care less about laws relating to magic.

“Of course, I can imagine it was never your intention of making enemies, but well, you’re a politician, these things are part of the game.” Then he turned the chair back to its original position and walked back to the table, leaning against it. “Originally, I was…” A deep frown as he thought of the word, as the memories of the event bubbled up together with the fury he still felt when thinking about it. “… persuaded to go deliver some warnings, and later on to go counteract you and your work, but well, you did not give up.” Brandon sighed. “As much I can respect that, it is what brings us here. My… the person I represent believes you will bring upon the destruction of this city, which is why you and I are here.” Another sigh. “Do you understand?”

x

credit goes to Euthisa

[Alses]

The blade made a whumm noise as it sped past her ear and buried itself – quite deeply – in the wall next to her head, just between two of the curving spires of her horns. She had been subtly flexing her muscles, trying to work her fingers free and round to an angle to get purchase on some of the tight knots – the sudden flash and the shuddering, vibrating stop made her freeze.

It wasn't as though she was weak, after all – but as a sorceress her first weapon was her magic, not muscles or lumps of metal. All her senses were focused on that knife; it had brought home to her, in a way quite different from Hayani's projection and reimancy, that there was a real and credible threat to her life from the little spire of metal, and from its owner.

Alses went very still, her breathing shallow and fast and her eyes locked on Brandon, even as he postured and pontificated like some third-rate villain of the stage. If it hadn't been so serious, she'd have laughed – but it was serious, potentially deadly serious, and here and now it seemed as though all her wealth and power and connections would not avail her any.

Petch.

“It was necessary,” Alses whispered, her voice drifting from between dry lips. “Please, let us go.”

“We knew there would be groups that would oppose us, but I never imagined they'd resort to footpadry. I thought...I thought....” her thoughts were scattering, unimportant, whirling around and around fruitlessly inside her brain as her mind sought for any past experience that might help. “I thought there might be representations, angry petitioners, a demonstration or two. We never thought they'd try an attack on our person. In Zeltiva, yes, but I thought Lhavit was too civilised for that.” A disgusted sigh. “Obviously I was wrong.”

She swallowed, heavily, tasting the acridity of bile at the back of her throat. Everything seemed too bright, too clear, every noise amplified until it rang in the vaults of her mind. She could feel everything too, from the subtle vibrations of the dagger to the rough splintery nature of the chair she was bound to, every sense screaming and drinking it all in, just in case this was her last few moments on Mizahar.

“The destruction of the city?” even in her current dire situation, Alses was incredulous. “Over a little change to the law to make mages more accountable? Your employer-” oh, there was a rich feast of emotions there, and none of them good, a poisonous crown-of-thorns around Brandon as he prowled back and forth “-thinks we'll send beloved Lhavit's dreaming spires tumbling down on the basis of that? Please, Lhavit is my home and my sanctuary. I've risked life and limb for this city before and we'll do it again, provided you don't end us here; I'll not see Lhavit in ruins!”

She shook her head, or tried to, horns trembling as the muscles on her neck stood out even when her body slumped. “But. You're a catspaw. You might as well tell me the name of your employer, if you're going to kill me in a few chimes, respect or no. Unless there's something you want, something you need, some arrangement we can come to?”

There was, perhaps, a faint glimmer of hope in the darkness; Brandon hadn't killed her yet, and it would have been so easy to slip a knife between her ribs whilst she slept the sleep of the deeply drugged. Did he have something else planned for her, or was this just another cruel twist of the knife?

Did his mysterious 'employer' want her to know, and to suffer before she passed to Syna's arms? Or...or was there some way, some hidden way, for a path out?

Alses didn't dare hope.

Alses looked upwards, as far up as she could manage, her neck exposed and open, glittering faintly in the dimness. “And if you are going to kill me, then-” she swallowed, hard “-then I commend my patchwork soul back to Syna, if she'll have us, and may She strike you down for killing one of Her children.”

[Brandon Blackwing]

x

“Too civilized, you say?” Brandon laughed, mockingly. “There is no such thing as too civilized. People will be people, it’s as simple as that.” He shrugged, crossing his arms. People could be anything they wanted to be; selfish, jealous, underhand, and whatnot. Those things were usually hidden in public though, and came only to the surface once the public mask had been taken off; in private. Brandon broken into the homes of merchants who smiled, and were polite and friendly, but at home? Domestic abuse. There was no such thing as being too civilized, society only made the populace wear masks. But Alses was probably too much of a head-in-the-clouds Ethaefal to understand.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong; I know you only wish the best for Lhavit. That’s not the problem. It’s not your intentions, but the consequences of your actions that seem to worry my employer.” Brandon frowned. “I honestly do not care how you changed things, or what you changed. However. You surely did notice the ripples your…” he waved a hand idly, “… amendment has made? The mages weren’t pleased in the slightest, and that was probably what made my employer take action. I do believe he could have gone about it in a different way, but well, I do think he’s not so stable.” A sigh.

Alses was sharp; very sharp. It appeared she’d already figured out why she really was here. Not to be killed, nor to be tortured –like Bran had managed to convince Kriegsfelt he was planning to do- but for an arrangement indeed. Or did she really? Perhaps she was just clinging to a faint glimmer of hope. Either way, Brandon was well aware he should continue working, talking, at his own pace, let things develop the way he wanted, and when he wanted. He was in control here; he should not let Alses know his true objective. If he did she’d probably try to twist the odds in her favor. She’d take control; the bat believed Alses was capable of that. She was a politician after all.

Though, it seemed rather impossible to keep it from her, she could read people with her magic, and well, it wouldn’t be too hard to figure out that Brandon wasn’t trying to kill her at all. Unless… Kriegsfelt had said he wanted her to realize before she passed on, to be afraid, to beg. Making a deal would be possible too; though he should act as if he wasn’t truly that interested. But could he pull it off? No. No he couldn’t. But he could try. Act as if an arrangement was something he hadn’t considered yet. As if he would only agree when he thought it more beneficial than his current “deal”. Yes, that might be something.

“If I were tasked with just killing you, I wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of bringing you here. I won’t kill you just yet, heck, I don’t even want to kill you.” The last part was the truth, at least. “I am a thief, not an assassin. If possible, I’d rather not be mistaken of one, and I’d also rather not bloody my hands when I don’t have any reason to. But, like you said, I am a catspaw.” He shrugged; sighing. “I don’t have much choice in this matter.” His eyes peered at the Eth intensely, as a grin unfolded under his mask. “Unless of course, your ‘arrangement’ is worth betraying my employer for.” Just about anything would be though, Kriegsfelt wasn’t a pleasant man to work for. “I’m listening; though you do realize I have a time limit. Once the limit has been reached…” his voice trailed off; Alses very well knew what he meant. She was clever enough.

“So tell me Councilor, what can you offer me? What is it I could be persuaded with to spare your life and turn on my employer?” The bat shifted his position on the table. “I have been told you’re quite skilled at reading people. Many call you a genius; the best in your field. Maybe it’s about time you confirm those rumors, no? Might even be enough to survive this night.” He grinned. “Well, Councilor? Are you willing to bet your life on this opportunity?”

x

credit goes to Euthisa

[Alses]

Relief trickled its cool balm down her spine and chilled the sweat that had drenched her back as the thief revealed his reluctance for murder, the hope she'd not dared hope flaring bright against the dark clouds of reason in Alses' head.

“If you're going to kill me unless I can offer you something, then taking the chance is no risk at all,” she remarked, eyes already sliding half-closed, preparing to slip into the light trance of a deeper working.

“Now let's see, little bat,” Alses murmured, gaze already taking on the distant and knowing cast of an aurist looking for the truth of things. This was no time to be subtle about it as she would normally; she gathered great skeins of boiling magic around her and hurled herself into the colour-drenched abyss that her auristics opened up with merely a breath of thought. “Let's see exactly what you are.”

A thousand thousand reaching strands of her magic, golden like a summer noon, burst from her body and filled the small room to bursting in mere ticks, shifting and moving and sifting and limning every tiny little thing with a myriad of shifting tendrils, never still even for an instant. Invisible, yes, to anyone without training, but the sheer weight of djed moving and working was still indefinably tangible as Alses drank in the world, a greedy titan whose thirst was never slaked or lessened; there was always more.

The brush of a thousand membranous wings ghosted over Alses' body as she reached out with metaphysical hands, drowning in Brandon's aura that had become the sole focus of all her attentions as she dove deeper and deeper into the mysteries of the world, the artist unseen working overtime to daub the otherwise-dull surrounds with a thick chiaroscuro of rainbowed djed.

Now...what was that, just there? A shivering quiver of light-blue, dancing a prickling tango up and down her spine, the phantom sensation of butterflies – nerves, most assuredly, despite the confident overlay that Brandon was projecting with all his might.

And under that, Alses suddenly plunged into an abyssal realm of far darker, hadean shades. Fear's shadow was long indeed: the first thing Alses felt, as a phantom coldness and a bitter taste in the back of her mouth. Under that, the slow pulse of rage, redder than blood and with reaching tendrils stretching far and wide, and then into the dark kaleidoscopic heart of Brandon's current state, a chaotic mixing charivari of toxic emotions, a melting melange of the darker side of the soul.

“You don't like your employer,” she remarked flatly, watching the bloom and burst of light and sound and touch and even smell around Brandon, the forever fireworks that told her so, so much. “You'd rather not work for them at all.”

Statements, both of them, not really based in auristics, either; Brandon had as good as told her that. No, that was for...familiarity, for want of a better word, for seeing how he reacted to information already known, the better to interpret the unknowns further down the line.

“Which begs the question of why you work for this employer in the first place. It's not money; you could have robbed me blind and we'd not have noticed, and I recall a burglary of a jeweller's shop not too long ago that had your hallmark.”

Yes, there wasn't the automatic eruption of different colours and patterns that would signify she'd hit a nerve; it wasn't money that motivated Brandon to work for someone he seemed to bear a grudge against.

“So, it's not money. Loyalty?” No, there was an instant surge in the greasy, skin-crawling slickness that was Alses' impression of disgust; almost before she'd got the word out she was denying it. “No, not that, either.”

“Which leaves duress.” Ah, and there was the bursting spike of range and shame and chagrin and all the other poisoned states, rushing up from their hiding place in Brandon's heart, a split-tick supernova of pent-up nastiness. “I wonder...what could compel a thief? No matter.”

Alses shook her head slowly from side to side, far more ponderous than it would have been under normal circumstances, panning almost mechanically left to right within the confines of her bindings. That he was speaking to her instead of executing the orders of his mysterious 'employer', spoke volumes; whatever hold his superior had over him was slipping, ebbing away, eroded by demands, and now in front of her...well. This was a man – or rather, Kelvic – dancing on a knife-edge, and her words could be the final little impulse that pushed him one way or the other.

Best choose them carefully, then.

“Your employer...powerful, are they? Rich, well-connected?” They almost had to be, really, to feel they could act – albeit at some remove – without fear of immediate reprisal from the Shinya. The affirmative burn from Brandon's aura as the words registered in his brain was just that – affirmation, of something she'd already suspected.

“Tell me, then...how would you feel about...escape?” Alses let the word roll around her mouth, lascivious almost, delighting in its rich sound even as it whispered its siren seduction into waiting ears. “Foreign Affairs falls within my ambit, and there are Wind Eagles that visit Lhavit.”

[Brandon Blackwing]

x

Her remark was spot on of course; she didn't have anything too lose. Not here, not now. Brandon was not very pleased with himself once Alses started speaking though; it had been a while since he'd known he was being examined by an aurist, and right at this very moment he recalled just why he disliked to be at the receiving end of their power. They could find out oh so much about you, in just the blink of an eye. His nature had already been revealed, it seemed, and soon the Councilor would fish up more and more information from the pool named Brandon. Information he might not have wanted to disclose. His control on the situation was slipping, and he knew it.

The bat cursed inwardly, deciding that if Alses got too full of herself he should remind her just who played what role. Damn, but it was uncomfortable, being subjected to that... inspection. He could sense it; her scrutinizing him, delving into the vaults of his mind and returning with the treasures of knowledge. The Ethaefal stayed silent for a while, busy with her magic, seeing what others couldn't. Brandon was sure that to her, no matter just how much masks he wore, he was an open book. A tome written in the most legible of handwritings. That notion alone had made the thief dislike the magic; he disliked being so... open. No subterfuge, no acting, no use in talking. No lies. It was too much honesty; no-one would like it. The mind was considered one's refuge, their shelter. But even so, the eyes of an aurist could stare right through it, and witness the thoughts forming.

Brandon nodded slightly at her first statements, about his willingness to work for Kriegsfelt. Of course he didn't. Alses would have been long dead if Brandon actually liked the man; heck if not dead she'd be screaming for her life to end. But he had told her as much already. Nevertheless, Brandon kept silent, letting the Councilor do what she did best. To be honest, apart from the caution and dislike he felt in regards to her power, the bat was curious. Curious to what she'd discover, to what she'd propose. Maybe she'd find things Brandon had no knowledge of whatsoever. Perhaps she'd know him better than he did himself after this. Gods, he hoped not.

“Hmm...” the thief murmured, fascinated by the way the Eth thought out loud. Amusement could be found in many things, as could entertainment. This was, in a way, both. In a whole different way than breaking and entering, other than free running, this too was thrilling. The bat swallowed even though his throat was dry. “The jeweler... I believe that was my first appearance...” Yes, yes it was. The first time Lhavit met the infamous thief; also the first job Bran had to do for that fat bastard. Just how Incognito had been conceived was vague even in the bat's own memories; he'd rather not remember the things Kriegsfelt had made him do. Then again, there were times he'd felt so incredibly proud at his achievements. The guise of Incognito was one Brandon both loved and hated, one he enjoyed and disliked assuming.

At the mention of loyalty though, the bat almost gagged, the thought alone sending ripples of gooseflesh down his spine. Being loyal to Kriegsfelt? Him? Not even in a billion years! How in the blazes did Alses come up with that? The rhetorical question was revoked immediately though, obviously the reaction of the bat had had something to do with it. It'd better. Next came coercion, and well, she was spot on of course. Engghaen's life dangled in the scales, tipping them in Kriegsfelt's favor. True, whether she truly was endangered or not couldn't be certified. For all the bat knew it was one huge lie. A bluff. Nevertheless, he did not dare take the risk. He did not want to lose her, but neither did he want to suffer like this; it was a dilemma that had brought him here. This was his way out.

Brandon -or rather, the man masquerading as Incognito- applauded, slowly clapping. Those rumors had been true alright; Alses was good. No, she was beyond excellent. Terrifyingly so. Maybe this was why the merchant wanted her dead so badly. Whatever ploy he had been planning would be exposed in less than a chime if he ever got within her range. “You're hitting the nail on its head,” the Kelvic thief responded, nodding. And he didn't exist in any of the Cosmos Center's documents. No Solomon Kriegsfelt anywhere; Sal had checked. And that would likely be a problem for the Councilor as well; how did you deal with a man that did not exist? Besides, if it was the word of a thief -obviously trying to save his hide- against that of a wealthy, respected merchant, who's would weigh the heaviest? Not Brandon's that was for sure.

Escape though? A good try, but no. “If I could just walk away, don't you think I'd not be here still?” He crossed his arms, the face under the mask frowning. “Something hold me here, and I cannot leave. I'm on a leash.” And Brandon did not like it, oh no he surely didn't. A mistreated dog would bite its owner, and that was exactly what Brandon was doing. Speaking of which; this might explain Kriegsfelt sudden change in attitude, the forced act of being friendly. Yes, it made sense, and the merchant seemed to think he'd managed to fool Brandon. But Brandon was not one to be appeased by friendly chats and behavior. A Brandon bearing a grudge couldn't be turned around so easily. Kriegsfelt was going to pay, one way or another, and it would be tonight.

“You are on the right track though, I'll admit that much.” Brandon shifted his weight slightly, cupping the side of his mask with his palm as he leaned on it, elbow resting on his knee. “I do seek escape from my employer's grasp. But. It's not as simple as that. I have come to understand that this is the first step in a greater plan, and after tonight there is no going back. Not for him, nor for me. I refuse to help him, though it's currently impossible for me. If I walk out her tonight, and you are still alive, my chains will break, yes, but along with it that which I hope to protect. That is, if you do nothing. On the other hand, I could go along with his plan, and do as I am told. I don't like either option.” He paused, letting it sink in. “Ergo, I am searching for a third. As you said, a deal. An arrangement.” Another pause, this time to prepare himself for what he was about to say. The bat didn't like it, but another option hadn't presented itself yet...

As he opened his mouth to speak however, he closed it again, a sly grin forming. Oh, almost. No, no, no. This was not how this worked. He did not have to propose anything to Alses; she needed to make a deal with him. After all, his life was not in danger. Yes, he'd rather not spill the Eth's blood, but if they couldn't come to a n agreement... well... he would have to do what was necessary to keep Enggy alive. And right now, that was by killing Alses. “What do you propose, Councilor? How could you help me?”

x

credit goes to Euthisa

[Alses]

“A leash? How...apt.” A touch of a smile quirked the corners of Alses' mouth quickly, before fading back into distant slackness.

She would have shrugged, had the bindings afforded her the range of movement. “The remoteness and isolation of Lhavit could have been part of your leash,” she observed, careful to keep the acid from her tone. He was still her captor, after all, and she was intensely aware of her position. “We could have expedited your exit from the city, ahead of your employer's presumed forces.”

“Now...I can't think this leash of yours would be any form of object, held hostage to your good behaviour; you'd have stolen it back by now. So. If we were your employer, and we didn't have principles, or a recourse to-” a fanged grin “-something better than threats, what would I use? Something that could be harmed by your refusal, something dear to you. Or should we say, someone?”

Ah, and there was the guess that hit home, the supernova flare of Bran's tortured aura near-blinding her with the intensity of its eruption. She squinted against the burning light that only she could see, blinking ephemeral sunspots away from her vision. “Ah,” Alses continued, tone as mild as spring rain. “That does put rather a different complexion on things.”

She paused for a tick or two, assembling her thoughts, her mind racing in a way hitherto only experienced at the very heart of her craft, when artifact-to-be and magic met in brilliant explosions, where split-tick decisions that meant the difference between triumphant excellence and dismal failure came thick and fast.

“This special someone of yours,” she remarked, voice perfectly neutral, although there was a speculative glint in her eye. “Does your employer – we could really do with a name, at least – actually have them in custody?” If that were true, then under the law Alses could potentially levy a whole battery of powerful charges against Brandon's superior. Kidnapping, perhaps. Wrongful imprisonment. Coercion. Blackmail – and those were just the ones that bubbled to the surface of her mind at an instant's thought.

Sadly, she was to be disappointed; a shadowed diminution of Brandon's aura, a twisting and a characteristic sly jink to one side, told her she'd fired wide of the mark. “We'll take that as a no,” Alses quickly added with a sigh and a deeper frown.

'There has to be something we can do,' Alses thought wildly, in the privacy of her own head. 'He wants a way out of this, I don't want to die I don't want to die I don't want to die – THINK!' She took some deep, slow, measured breaths, hoping to regain some equilibrium with the familiar action, trying to focus only on the gradual inhalation and the slow exhalation, the rise and fall of her chest and the shift of her bones and muscles, steady and predictable with every breath.

'Break it down, Alse, break it down...Problem: someone is going to kill me if I can't get them out of a jam. Problem: They're a thief and someone I should really see to the attentions of the Shinya as soon as I can. Problem: I'm trussed up like a turkey. Problem: They have an employer, and their employer is a dangerous man. Problem: There's a third party in all of this, someone whose safety keeps this thief in line. Solution:...?'

The quiet order of her internal litany helped; her thoughts were settling out of their mad spin, ideas leaping in her fertile mind. A few in particular stood out amongst the clamouring throng. Unprincipled and nasty, perhaps, but was there really any choice?

“As we see it, there is, perhaps, a way out for you...” she mused. “And you wouldn't have to kill, either. There exists in this world the power to bind someone to their promise, absolutely and unconditionally, with no possibility of weaselling out of it, provided it's worded aright. We know how to do it; if he signed he would be absolutely bound by the covenant to keep its terms. We could write a command to allow no harm or scathe to be done to your precious person, even should his life be forfeit, and he would have no choice in the matter. Even if his mind cried out to let it happen, his body wouldn't countenance it. That would break his hold over you rather nicely, no?”

Her smile was not a nice one. “All you would need to do is tell him its particulars, and make him sign.”

Alses pursed her lips, exhaling heavily. “There is another, elegant solution, of course.” she paused, aware of the enormity of what she was about to suggest. “Kill your employer.”

After a moment, she continued, the words still hanging in the air. They couldn't be unsaid now. “It is...distasteful, and I can't recommend it, but either way, you break the chain. Or would you like your employer dangling the safety of your friend over your head forevermore?”

Brandon surely wasn't naive enough to think that his employer would let an asset go, was he? Not if this mysterious man were the type to engage in serious skullduggery, and in glittering Lhavit of all places.

While it was distasteful, it was also something of a win-win situation – for Alses, at least. If Brandon succeeded in dispatching his employer, then all to the good! The man's plots would sputter and fail and fall apart without the kingpin to hold them together, the thief would have no reason to execute his demands any more, and his special somebody would be free of any shadow.

If Brandon failed, then he would most likely be dead, his friend would then be of no further use and so also free, and Alses would be forewarned about the danger. And forewarned was – almost literally – forearmed.