Tesla stretched a hand out toward the Reagan Stone and narrowed his eyes as a tingle of warmth flowed down his arm and into the rest of his body. He could feel the changes wrought within him as Book obediently ratcheted up the numbers on the status page. Increased strength and speed made his body lighter and his reflexes sharper even as increased stamina boosted the density of his flesh and bones. Though it was hard to pin down the feeling that accompanied a raise in intelligence or wits, Tesla's senses distinctly sharpened as perception went up. By that same token he felt no real changes as his appearance numbers improved, but he did feel an additional reverberation to his voice as his manipulation and charisma increased. As was to be expected of an increase in level, he felt far more capable in all areas than he did before.

A large part of this feeling came as a result of the degree to which the ryujin's levels jumped. At the same time, it further drove home the inarguable fact that the quest to Aurora's Caul was not something he should have been attempting at level one. Nevertheless, jumping to level twenty two in one go was something of a dramatic result.

Name: Tesla Stone (Character Lvl: 22)

Race: Dream Eater; Ryujin Variant (Race Lvl: 13)

Job Class: Golemeister (JC Lvl: 15)

HP: 2,425/2,425 MP: 2,370/2,370 NP: 0/0 DP: 0/0 EXP: 5,798/22,000 (To Next Lvl)

Physical Attributes: (Strength: 370; Dexterity: 345; Stamina: 395)

Mental Attributes: (Intelligence: 425 (Exceeds Calculated Values); Perception: 335 (ECV); Wits: 410 (ECV)

Social Attributes: (Appearance: 567; Charisma: 375; Manipulation: 360)

Character Skills: N/A

Racial Skills: Claw Strike; Tail Swipe; Nocturne Dust; Sleepwalker; Nightmare Conversion; Dream Conversion

Job Skills: Golem Mastery (x7); Improved Output (Passive); Control Override; Control Override Protection (Passive) Golem Repair; Golem Construction (Basic)

Unique Traits: Dream Eater; Virstauf's Chosen; Candidate for Consort

Exceeds calculated values... it seems I outweighed the average after pushing my processing speeds a little.

"It is rare to see such a tremendous rate of growth in so little time." Father Prymaug reached up and clapped Tesla on the shoulder in a grandfatherly fashion, made all the more strange by the youthful cast of his elven features, and shook his head. "Just what were you doing out there?"

"Janek and I slipped and fell into the deep end of a pretty nasty pit. We had to fight our way back out."

"Experiencing enough to gain twenty one levels?"

"It was a big pit." Tesla shrugged his broad shoulders and turned to face the elf. "We almost didn't make it out at all; a combined force of Temple guardsmen and army regulars happened to be staging in the area before they mobilized to the Broken Mountains. When they noticed the local monsters were on alert, they investigated and found us." It was a simple enough cover story, and close enough to the actual truth to avoid complications. If word got out that Camp Nevermind, the kingdom's largest military installation, and the main temple of the diocese deployed a large number of men to Aurora's Caul then it would only serve to reinforce the cover.

"You were lucky, both of you." Prymaug paced over to his favorite lectern and snagged a couple of objects from its surface. "Sparks may effectively be immortal, and Janek is certainly more capable than he appears, but that doesn't mean you should go poking a dragon in the eye with a stick just to see what happens."

"I'll try to keep that in mind." Tesla grimaced slightly as the elf plopped a pair of skulls in his outstretched hands. He didn't have time to examine them in the chaos back at the convent, but the two heads had a handful of deformations that marked them as inhuman. Both had slightly exaggerated canines on the upper and lower jaw, with extra pairs of those fang-like teeth replacing some of the grinding molars. Likewise,the skulls were finely ribbed with reinforcing bone structures that were too regular to be anything other than intentional. Last, but not least, each skull had a single horn projecting from the brow above one eye socket. The horns curved upwards toward the sky then forward as they narrowed to the tip, and projected above a different eye. As a result the skulls looked like mirror images of one another. "They bite when I want them to; does that mean these are some weird kind of golem?"

"Yes." Prymaug held up a broken and corroded medallion. "The men at the armory feel as though they are connected to this, and may have even been called to it in some fashion."

"What, the good-luck charm? It's just a busted pendant that used to belong to some old magician."

"Ordinarily I would agree, but there are some indications of redundant magical circuits buried under the corrosion." The elf flipped Julius Denatus' pendant over and ran a fingernail across the back of it. "If enough of the backup circuits survived then, even without a power source, a sympathetic vibration can be produced that will "call" to anything it is connected to. Naturally the Soai cannot leave such things alone, especially when they are in the hands of Sparks, so objects and magics that fluctuate on the same frequency often wind up guided into your hands. With this pendant in your grasp you could find all sorts of interesting things." Prymaug balanced the medallion atop his thumb and flipped it to Tesla like an oversized coin.

"Maybe I should take them all to a professional Golem Engineer and have them assessed, too." Tesla delicately caught Denatus' pendant in the jaws of a skull. "I need to get this ring on my tail checked out, anyway."

"Hmm." Prymaug dug in a pocket, then fished out a small sheet of paper. "Check with these businesses first; the armory thought they would be advanced enough to know what they were looking at while remaining discreet enough not to turn any thieves onto you." The priest shook his head. "As to the ring, all I know is that it is a Legendary item; there are not many who can fully assess such a thing in Diatom."

"Janek sent me a name before I was even up this morning. I'll look into it."

"Good enough. Any thoughts on what you shall do now?"

The ryujin tucked a skull under one arm and scratched at one of his own horns. "Meh, half the people I've run into today talk up the Temple like they want to hire me on the spot, while the other half politely inquire as to how soon I'll be leaving. The armory wants me around to help reduce their operating costs. The quartermastery wants me to stay just long enought to reimburse them for lost inventory. The Guard can't decide whether they want me or not since I'm not a typical fighter. There's a steadily-growing association of priestesses that want me out because I'm supposedly a pervert. I think Janek wants to fold me in as a Bricoleur, but he's on the outs at the moment and his words hold little sway for now."

"Are you interested in Temple work?"

"While the thought of running around doing god-knows-what under the command of that dirty-minded old dwarf has its merits, right now I can't say one way or the other. -So, I'm not going to worry about it. Instead I need to get myself set up in this city." Tesla swung his tail back and forth as he ticked out points on his fingers. "I need a place to stay, room to work on my Job Class, and a steady income while I figure out my next step."

"So, at the very least, you intend to stay in Diatom."

"When did I say I wouldn't?"

"You did not. It is just that not many Sparks enjoy the winters commonly found on the Wolf's Tail; many sail to warmer climes before the peninsula freezes over."

"So there are other Sparks here. I was beginning to wonder if I was the only one in the kingdom."

"Not so many as all that. Diatom is somewhat off the beaten path in the Old World. You will only find individuals wandering all the way out here; the guilds tend to stick close to the more vibrant cities to the south." Father Prymaug stuffed his hands into his opposing sleeves. "I would not expect too much from them, though, if I were you. The average Spark is only interested in what they get out of others; altruism is an alien concept to them."

"I'm a Spark, too, Prymaug. I'm no different than they are."

"I am a better judge of men than most, Tesla Stone. It comes from a long life. You have the power to remain upon Corundum indefinitely, yet you seek to make a home in an inhospitable realm like the Anthracite continent. You fight like an Ember, you converse like an Ember, and you treat everyone you meet like they are not beneath your notice. Most Sparks seek bright lights, cheap entertainment, and the easiest, if most grinding, path to power. If a fight is too hard they give up immediately and either run or die, which is effectively the same thing in their eyes. They have no sense of greater purpose, treating all the difficulties and crises of the kingdoms like some childish game with no consequences for their actions. Worst of all, they somehow see we Embers as things rather than people. Some of the worst atrocities unleashed upon this benighted old world were not the twisted plots of demon lords, but the capricious cruelties of heartless Sparks."

"...Sorry."

"What have you to apologize for? Did you create the path of a Spark's descent? No, you merely used it to come here yourself." The elven priest shook his head. "Let us drop this discussion. Janek has deeded you his half of the earnings for your adventure, claiming he has no need of it. After liquidating it all you are left with a respectable amount for a single mission, but I would say it is hardly enough to establish yourself comfortably in the city."

"How far can it take me?"

"You could purchase a home large enough to fit your needs, but you could not furnish it. You might make the investment to pair-bond with a quality ailuros, but you could not equip both it and yourself afterwards. You could make a down payment on a lower tier, rebuilt cataphract but you would not have a coin to your name once you signed on the dotted line."

"Huh, then I either lower my expectations or hoard my money and work to grow it until I have enough." Then again, he thought, there's still the option to "go premium." Spending too much real-world money would draw a lot of attention from the outside, though. Hardcore gamers like to grief premium players way too much, and the whole point of this exercise is to retire into obscurity, not stand out like a sore thumb. Diatom was perfect in that sense; as a kingdom of little value to even low-level players Tesla could afford to relax his guard and enjoy himself, but he knew that situations could change at the drop of a hat. A Soai could take a little too much interest and heat up the nation; Sparks would come flowing in like a gold rush. The same could be said for spending a lot of money in an area, or overusing his enhanced processing capabilities. Players would notice something unusual was going on and come to investigate. Lay low, lay low.

"There are certain associations that work as clearing houses for odd jobs. They seem to be very popular with Sparks, but there are a couple of problems with them." Prymaug held up two fingers. "First, they do not pay very much. It is barely enough for a Spark to rent a room and feed himself. If you work hard enough you can afford to get your equipment repaired and feed your pets. Supposedly the New World and the Frontier have associations that offer much greater rewards, but here? It is a hand-to-mouth lifestyle."

He's talking about common quests and rewards... maybe something like an adventurer's guild in some simpler games or something? "Let me guess the second problem: With all the Sparks flying south for the winter these "associations" have closed up shop."

"Exactly. Not many Embers are interested in risking their lives for such cheap returns. Most of us only have one life to live, you know." Prymaug smiled. "I am afraid your only option is to get a job."

"I don't think many people are interested in hiring on a Spark, especially if the view you have of them is a common one."

"It is. However, you have an advantage: Who is going to know you are a Spark unless you tell them? As I have said before, you do not fit the profile. Most Embers can recognize that self-righteous swagger and demeaning attitude from miles away."

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not press my luck. I'm woefully lacking in the common sense of this world; something like that's bound to get out the longer I associate with others." Tesla leaned his head back and stared blankly up at the Reagan Stone. "Besides, the amount of equipment and materials a Golem Engineer needs is both extensive and expensive. I don't think I can scrape together enough money working under someone else; I'll have to take a risk and try to produce something myself."

Prymaug shrugged and offered a small laugh. "Easier said than done. You will need quite the bright idea to make a splash in a country like Diatom."

Even as the cold deepened and the falling snow thickened, the vibrant atmosphere of the city remained unchanged. Tesla strode down the streets of the mercantile district and tugged at the sleeves of his new clothes. They were a simple ensemble of knee-high cuffed leather boots over loose leggings with a plain belt, a laced up shirt left untied at the neck, and a short overcoat too thin to be anything more than a windbreaker. It was a common outfit for the men of Diatom, who took pride in their resistance to cold weather and love of festive colors, though the ryujin's horns kept him from wearing their ushanka-styled hats. As his first purchase with his own money, it wasn't half bad.

"Meh, at least I'm blending in this way." Tesla slung a travel bag over his back, dug his claws into a small belt pouch, and fished out both Janek's and Prymaug's notes. "Wow, Golem Engineers really are few and far between on the Wolf's Tail. How many have turned out to be out of business so far, six?" He checked the nearby street signs to orient himself, then glanced back down at the papers. "Next is... Bandicoot's Resale and Repair."

Luckily, as complex as the city's layout appeared to be at first glance, there was a certain logic to it that could be grasped if you had a master's degree in architecture and a doctorate in theoretical geometry. In other words, if Tesla didn't have Book tracing the shortest route like a GPS navigator he would have been able to find the place himself... It just would have taken him an extra week.

"Bandicoot's" turned out to be something of a corner shop rather than a market stall; the location actually had a physical address and a proper storefront. It didn't specialize in any one thing, but rather sold a variety of goods, which was probably why the store was still open rather than another victim of Diatom's general disinterest in golems. A handful of bells rang merrily as Tesla entered the shop's door.

"I'll be right there!" An equally cheerful voice rang out from behind the counter, quickly followed by a teenaged human girl who strained up and slapped a weighty box of random items upon the countertop. "Yes? What can I do for you-whoa!" The girl took one look at Tesla and suddenly went into a coughing fit. Book identified her as

"Good afternoon, I was wondering if Bandicoot's had someone who could assess the remains of a few old golem apparatuses I happened to pick up?"

"Nice voice, too..." the girl muttered under her breath, then came to with an almost audible snap. "Right! Sorry! Golems are my papa's specialty; he's in the back!" Mana blushed all the way to her ears as she parted a curtain behind the counter to reveal an open doorway. "He's in the back," she repeated, "yeah, in the back!"

"Thank you." Tesla arched an eyebrow as he followed the girl, who was frantically fingercombing her hair, into the rear of the shop. Contrary to the orderly neatness of the storefront, the back room was a methodical mess. Boxes of merchandise were stacked in a haphazard fashion on tabletops, cabinet shelves, and even the floor. Golem parts were stuffed in cargo nets and suspended from the ceiling. A handful of magical machines littered one bench. A humanoid golem made of wooden blocks sat atop one. Amazingly the golem would collapse in on itself in a muted flash of fractal light until only a tiny glass ampoule remained in its place, then a manipulator from the device it rested upon would snap the neck of the vial and cause the golem to expand back into its original form. A heavyset older man with messy hair, oversized goggles, and a leather apron leaned across another machine; he appeared to be using a stylus attached to it to inscribe a sigil on what looked like a self-propelled feather duster. Book declared him to be

"Papa! You've got a customer!" Mana practically bounced in place when she wasn't cutting furtive glances in Tesla's direction.

"Hoh?" Mandoq set aside the duster and raised his goggles. "What can I do for you, young man?"

Tesla lifted the travel bag from his shoulder and reached into it. "The truth is for some reason I happen to have an aptitude for golems, as well as unusual luck for getting my hands on rare objects. As a result, I came upon these irregular items." The ryujin drew both skulls and the timeworn pendant from the bag and held them out to Mandoq. Mana's lips pouted in a moue of distaste, but she didn't budge. "A magician told me these three are interconnected somehow, but he also said that I would need to ask a genuine Golem Engineer or higher-level Golemeister to determine their actual value."

"You're a Puppeteer, eh?" Mandoq took the items and carried them over to a nearby desk.

"Nope. The local priest joked that the Reagan Stone must have hiccuped when it made me a Golemeister right at the start."

"You got lucky, then. Low-level, right? Otherwise you could assess these yourself." The Engineer scratched lightly at the skulls with a file, then rubbed what he got from them between his fingers. "Organic. Homunculus, then; either a two-headed version or two separate units. Can't tell their quality without an in-depth look, but that would take both time and more money than an up-and-coming young Golemeister would be willing to part with."

"Homunculus?"

"Biological golems; they're grown in test tubes combining monstrous blood with the blood of their creator. Basic homunculi are freakish in appearance and have an extremely short life span outside the tube. You have to keep re-submerging them in the growth solution in order to keep them from deteriorating, but it's not worth the expense. Higher tier versions are stable, though. I hear they're pretty popular in the right circles, since a homunculus is smart enough to properly obey orders without constant supervision." Mandoq held up the tarnished medallion and squinted. "External control circuit, power conduits; lots of redundancy. This would have been a masterwork back in its heyday, and if the skulls are connected to it they probably were, too."

"I don't know about the medallion, but the skulls can still bite on command."

Mandoq whistled, "That means they're still alive, or at least as alive as a homunculus can be, pulling some kind of minimal magic charge through this crusty amulet. If that's the case, then with the right equipment you could probably repair all three of these items."

"I'm afraid I don't have the capital for those kind of tools; I'll be lucky if I have enough to build and repair basic golems for quite a while."

"Golems are a tough sell in Diatom, friend. Aside from cataphracts, the people of the Wolf's Tail Peninsula see no use in them."

"Surely there's some basic function that could be left to a golem rather than done yourself, like pest control."

Mandoq shook his head and sighed. "Basic golems are too clunky and slow to chase down sewer rats on their own, and insect infestations would require poison. There's no way anyone's going to let something as stupid and accident-prone as a lower tier golem carry around tanks of random alchemical concoctions on their backs without supervision. People inevitably think "I have to supervise it? Then I might as well do the job myself." The burly Golem Engineer turned back to his previous work and scooped up the featherduster. "This was my idea: The Self-Actuating Hoverduster. The body is delicate and the programming inscriptions are limited, but all it had to do was fly and brush dust out of hard-to-reach places. Problem is, the cursed thing is constantly knocking items off of shelves when it isn't getting trapped behind open doors or flying out of windows. I could tell people "supervise it" but then we circle right back to the earlier argument. I could use better materials and make it a little larger in order to improve the quality and number of control scripts, but then it becomes too expensive to sell." Mandoq twirled the stem of the featherduster around his fingers and slumped as the golem collapsed in on itself and became a slender glass ampoule no more than two inches in length. "I even gave it a compression function in order to make it easier to store when not in use, but it's just not good enough."

"Hunh; compression, eh?" Tesla leaned in for a closer look, and Mandoq passed the vial over to him. "I didn't know that was possible. I had three golems in the past, two grass trimmers and a firestarter, but they couldn't do that."

"There are many golem designs too bulky to store efficiently by any other method, like that street sweeper golem over there, but a lot of Engineers are too lazy to incorporate this system in a basic golem."

"How small can they get?"

"What you're holding there is the only size. Also, beyond a certain mass limit compression just won't work. It'd make things a hell of a lot easier if you could carry a cataphract in a coin purse, but no one's figured out how to do it. There's a lot of Engineers who say it's impossible."

Tesla flicked a claw, neatly snapping the neck of the vial, and Mandoq's duster expanded into its full form. "Interesting." The ryujin glanced around the messy space and snatched up a rag. He knotted the cloth strip around the stem of the duster then willed it to compress. "Hmm, not so easy as that, huh?" The duster returned to the form of an ampoule and the rag slipped free, it's knot suddenly too large to fit the glass. "I'll have to think on it."

Mandoq shrugged quizzically, then accepted the vial back from Tesla. "Everyone gets their own ideas. It's the curse common to all Engineers. I hope yours turns out better than mine."

Tesla's breath steamed in the cold as he left the Bandicoot family's shop and began to wander the streets. I need to re-prioritize. The ring isn't going anywhere, and it isn't cursed, so I can afford to put it on the back burner for now. The ryujin offered a gentlemanly salute to a small gaggle of housewives and smiled as they tittered and sighed in his wake. That would free up a lot of cash I can put towards starter equipment, but it probably won't be enough to net a decent house in one of the better neighborhoods. Then again, a slightly stressed property might reduce the price. "Book, who's responsible for realty in Diatom? ...City, not nation."

A riffle of pages sounded off behind Tesla's head.

"Respectable."

"Good neighborhoods."

"Stressed properties."

"Within my current price range."

"Financing?"

"Hmm, how about labor-based deals? You know, the whole "clear the ghosts from the mansion and we'll let you have it for a tenth of the price" kind of scheme?"

"Give me a list of the top ten, their locations, and their average price ranges."

"I'm impressed that you managed to find my humble establishment, Mister Stone. Few Sparks are interested in acquiring property in a kingdom as remote as Diatom, let alone... distressed properties, shall we say?" Enigma Realty was indeed a remote business, located down several back alleways and ensconced on the third floor of a tenement house in a refurbished apartment. Tesla was forced to make his way past a multitude of unsavory characters as he wound his way to Enigma's owner and sole agent. Most of them were smart enough to leave a ryujin of his caliber well enough alone, but enough fools cropped up to try their luck to leave a path of groaning bodies in Tesla's wake.

"Most Sparks are transients, I'll admit, but I'm not. I'm looking for a place to call home within a respectable price range, and if I have to clear out a few rats or sweep a skeleton or two out of their closets to get within that range then I don't mind." The realty was well put-together, if overly reliant on cheap furniture and decorations. If Tesla had to guess, the cost of the office's interior was low enough to deter thieves and make the bookshelves easier to replace if creditors came calling. There was nothing that could hide the worn down nature of the tenement itself, but the furniture actually was quite comfortable and the ornamentation tasteful. Likewise, while the realtor's central furnishing was an impressive desk trimmed with just the right amount of paperwork and writing utensils to look busy without being too busy, the realtor herself ignored it in favor of a pair of facing couches separated by a simple coffee table for a more intimate interview.

"Is that so?" Enigma Realty's owner offered a fanged smile made all the more impressive by the flickering light of bluish flames just behind her teeth. "I was under the impression that your kind were somehow prevented from experiencing a prolonged stay upon the surface of this world." Like her surroundings, the woman gave off an air of being cheap if well put-together. She fell squarely into that broad age range of excessive sex appeal set by Mystletayne Electronics, and the clothes she wore were designed to flaunt it: The leggings were as tight as a second skin, accented by high-heeled boots with the cuffs unrolled up to mid-thigh. She wore no shirt, only a long jacket with a single straining button at the bosom to preserve modesty. Her hair was dark and quite long; even tied in a high ponytail at the crown of her head it nearly touched her waist. Book added her to its list of "known people" as

"That makes two of us, then. I assumed that naturally-born ryujin rejected the outside world, sticking to their own nations and people." Indeed the tail and horns were a dead giveaway, and the magnificent webbed wings even more so. Tesla noted that Esperia's draconian aspects were a deep red in color compared to his own silvered steel, then idly wondered if wings were a gender-based trait.

The ryujin woman made a face and pointed a single claw to the horns on her head. "That alone tells me you're a Spark. Any Ember ryujin would know right away that I'm an exile." The hornlike protrusions where her ears should have been were much like Tesla's own, if longer and more slender, but the primary horns on her head were mismatched. What should have been a graceful pair of antlers similar to those found on whitetailed deer were shorn and uneven. The right antler was pristine, but the left was broken off at the halfway point and any surviving tines below that looked to have been sawn off. "All ryujin exiles are mutilated in some fashion, in order to ensure we cannot simply walk back across the borderlands and settle in a different community. We of the Blood Crimson race are firebreathers like the Royal Gold, but we have no blades on our tails. To make up for that my people take great pride in our horns. When I was exiled..." Esperia clenched a fist.

"I see." Judging by her expression, Tesla deduced that the experience was much like viciously scarring a woman's face. "With something so... final, I would assume that all exiles are permanent?"

"Even if it wasn't, who would want to go back?" Esperia wiped at her eyes. "The laws of my, our... nevermind. Ryujin laws are too strict for some people to follow, no matter how good the life is otherwise. Even minor infractions from an outsider's view lead to harsh punishment on the inside, like arguing the dictates of the village elders in my own case. Eventually, those who do not learn their lesson are "marked" and cast out." Her claws subconsciously raised to touch her ruined horn once again. "Well, there's one way to end an exile, but it's practically impossible."

"Oh?" Tesla leaned back into the couch. "Tell me about it."

Esperia shot Tesla a measuring look. "Maybe later. You're not here to learn about the plight of exiled ryujin; you're here to obtain a home." Her emotions cooled as she snatched a thin folio from the coffee table and began to leaf through its contents. By the time she found what she was looking for, the amiable mask of an experienced real estate agent was firmly in place. "Here we are, the old Waving Heathers estate. It's a legacy property of a now-defunct noble line of the Skywalker clan. They were a pretty big deal in Diatom, up until the head of the family developed a notorious gambling addiction without any gambling skills, but that was a long time ago. Strangely enough, for an abandoned piece of real estate the property is in excellent condition. I've had a few magicians take a look at the place, from a safe distance, and they all agree that the source is most likely some kind of maintenance spell keeping the Heathers mothballed."

"The size?"

"Impressive. It's a wooded multi-acre plot smack in the middle of the Nobles' District, something that's not seen anymore given how overgrown Diatom's become. Most of the other properties like the Heathers sold off their excess land to make money through the years, but the Skywalkers were too proud for their own good. Now, of course, it's all of a piece and nobody wants to buy it. There are a handful of structures on the plot: The main house has five wings and four stories buttressed in the Averuncian style so its quite historically attractive. I've heard there's a massive, natural, open-air hot spring bath somewhere in an inner courtyard of the mansion, but no one can get deep enough to verify. Aside from that there is supposed to be a modest two-story guest house, a stable, an observatory tower of all things, and a hunting lodge buried in the woods. The entire property is walled, the inner roads are interlocking flagstone, the main house is surrounding by a magnificent garden, and all the structures are completely furnished. Apparently, the Skywalkers were convinced they would be able to buy back the Waving Heathers in no time at all, so they left everything as-is."

Tesla thoughtfully rubbed at his chin. "Sounds like a dream purchase, if I was drowning in money."

"It would be, if the entire property wasn't drowning in the paranormal." Esperia released a professional sigh and tapped one of her delicate claws against the offensive deed in her possession. "The surrounding nobles complain of moans and rattling chains coming from the property's interior; a powerful sense of wrongness permeates the depths. Some strong-hearted men have made it as far as the central mansion while the sun is up, but cannot bring themselves to enter the house proper."

"Sounds like a job for a priest." Tesla held up a fist. "It's not like I can belt a ghost."

"The Temple can't handle it; their best exorcists were the ones who made as far as the mansion, but no further." Esperia leaned back against her couch and stretched both arms across the backrest. Tesla inwardly winced in sympathy to the pained creak of that single coat button even as he wondered idly at the inevitable results should it snap free. "Whether or not you can handle it is entirely up to you, but the reward is more than worth it."

"If we're just talking half price, then I can't even float that much."

The agent's eyes were hooded as she crossed her legs and jetted a little more flame from between her teeth. "...I'll give it to you."

"Come again?"

"Lock, stock, and barrel. I'm prepared to hand the deed over to your hands without a single coin in recompense if you can purify the Heathers and make it livable."

"Forgive me for asking, but, if that's the case then what's in it for you?"

"Oh, fine; no secrets. That property's been nothing but a headache since I obtained it." Esperia nibbled pensively at her lower lip, then continued. "I'd rather hand it over to another ryujin, even if you are a Spark, than lose the entire plot to litigation, and if the Heathers is properly cleansed then the reason for that inevitable summons goes up in smoke."

"Who's trying to take it from you?"

"The neighboring nobility, though I don't know who is leading the charge. I have a few contacts, though, and they say that somebody's gotten it into their thick skull that razing the land will get rid of the haunt, leaving them to parcel the property off at their leisure for considerable profit." Esperia gently flapped her wings, using the resultant wind pressure to gracefully rise to her feet, then curled and uncurled her tail like a cat. "So? Do we have a deal?"

"What the hell, why not?" Tesla stood and shook the realtor's hand; the sound of their armored grip was like two rocks grinding against each other. "If I can do it, then I get my hands on something really special. If not, we can always negotiate another property."

Manning the great gates around Diataom city's vast anti-monstrosity defense wall was a twenty four hour job that lay firmly in the hands of His Majesty's Army, but there was no such thing as a perfect soldier. The gates were manned in four hour shifts in an attempt to keep physical fatigue and mental dullness at bay, but the drudgery of random wagon inspections and interviews of suspicious travelers could wear at even the most alert as the day drags on. Thus when an entire convoy of bos-pulled cargo trolleys drew up to the first gate just before the closing bells were rung, the weary soldiers holding the post merely rubbed their tired eyes and waved the entire caravan on.

No one noticed the military efficiency of the drovers as the convoy was ushered through. No one heard the scrape of metal-on-metal within the crates as wagon after wagon passed them by. No one questioned the excessive number of men escorting as large a caravan as that one was.

No one saw the convoy split apart and spread into the city like a dollop of ink dropped into a glass of milk.