Year 1, Month 2, Week 2, Day 1

Eden

Eden had spent the previous evening at the inn around the corner from the Meadium. The man running it was a darling, though Eden wasn’t sure if that was because she knew Megan or if it was because House Leland was paying for her stay. Either way, he was more than pleasant. He advised Eden that several items of convenience would be sent to her room within the hour, and that he had extra pillow mints if she requested them–for free, of course.

More pleasant than the inkeeper, however, was the bed waiting for her; an honest-to-gods bed. The bed was lumpy and well-used, but that mattered little to the little green elf; she, at that moment, felt as if she hadn’t slept in a bed in months, even though it had only been just shy of two weeks. What’s more, is that a tub of hot water and some crude soap had been brought to her room, so she could take a proper bath. A mirror and a razor were waiting for her on the bed, as well, and, despite being an elf, she quickly felt her face for hair and wondered to herself why the razor was brought up. She shrugged off the thought, after ten minutes of wracking her brain for ideas on where she was expected to shave for the presence of polite company. Species that actually grew body hair probably knew, but she did not know.

Eden, though satisfied with her lodging, and happily settling into sleep after a long and eventful day, found her sleep to be fitful and full of nightmares. Behind her eyelids, helwolves chased her down streets of white stone, a looming wolf-god swung his axe and broke the ground out from under her feet, and a raven croaked in the distance. When Eden woke from her dreams, it occurred to her that, despite her attempts to adopt whatever new life was in front of her, her heart just wasn’t ready to part with the terrors that gripped her recent past.

That was yesterday, however. Eden now sat at a table in the Meadium with Bran, waiting for the others to arrive. Bran had told her that he had recruited other people, but he was mute on the details. The tavern was empty, aside from the two of them.

“Why are we here half an hour early?” Eden complained. “That’s like…twenty minutes I could have been lounging about my room.”

“Because I wanted to be able to prepare you for this meeting a little better than I did last night. There were too many ears around us.”

“Okay. So what’s the meeting all about?”

“Like I said, our guest will relay to us what our goal is–”

“I thought you were going to actually tell me something, Brandy!” Eden interrupted.

“It’s Bran, and I was going to tell you about our guest.”

“Oh. You may proceed, then.”

Bran squinted at her for a moment, then said. “Thank you for allowing me to continue.”

“You’re welcome!” Eden replied with a bright smile. Bran squinted at her again.

“Anyway, our guest is none other than Senator Mystern.”

“Who’s he?”

“She is the only senator with three Houses backing her. What’s more is that she’s the only senator that isn’t part of a House.”

“That…sounds lofty?”

“Well, it certainly makes her a voice of authority throughout the city, as she has much sway. But, due to the nature of our government, she still, technically, has to abide by all the laws, and has no title above senator. She’s also one of the few senators that doesn’t turn a blind eye to the thieves’ guild.”

“I like her already.”

“Well, when you don’t have family or loved ones in the city to be threatened or blackmailed, that limits what influence the guild has over you.”

“So why don’t they threaten her person?”

“Well, that would be difficult to do, as she’s a demigod.”

“...a demigod?” she asked skeptically.

“Truly. The only one in this region. She’s a daughter of Hecate.”

Eden thought for a moment, thinking through the different temples that she had visited in Almaz. “The goddess of crossroads?”

“Among other things. Mystern, however, only received one domain of her mother’s, which, if I’m not mistaken, is the domain of magic.”

“So she’s a good spellcaster?”

“Incredibly so.”

“So why would she meet with us instead of just using magic to solve her problems?”

“Ehhhh… among other things, I’d say morals. Most problems are not of the natural-disaster type. Most problems arise as a direct result of people, and she has a strict policy against using her magic to force others to act the way she wants, and so she attempts to use the instruments of law and tradition to influence the city.”

“Strange… Strange… It would seem like just automatically fixing the problems the city has would be a good thing. Oh well. You said she uses the law. If that’s the case, why did you say that we’d be doing semi-legal things. How is something semi-legal?”

“Well, as I’ve said, Mystern is a staunch opponent of the thieves’ guild. Approving a team of people to strategically undermine the thieves’ guild is a nigh impossible task in the senate. Not only would it take months to do, but with as many senators as there are in the pockets of the guild, the team that is made would very shortly find themselves and their loved ones destitute and in fear for their lives and livelihoods. And while Mystern cannot act unilaterally to sponsor such a team, she can give gifts to like-minded individuals who can choose to act according to their nature at their own risk and discretion.”

“And you happen to be an individual with the resources and inclination to act against the thieves’ guild, able to hire your own team and receive ‘advice’ from certain quasi-deific senators?”

Bran snapped his fingers. “Exactly!”

“So what are we getting paid for this?”

“You mean besides your free lodging, experience that you were excited about, and food? By the way I’m paying for the party’s meals while they take part in the operations.”

“That is a good point.”

“Besides, getting in the good graces of House Leland and Senator Mystern? That’s worth a fortune by itself.”

The conversation was interrupted by the door at the front of the tavern opening. In walked a particularly fit-looking he-elf with bronze skin, black hair, and green, almond-shaped eyes; a forest elf. This elf was rather muscular, but wasn’t bulky–in fact, it looked like every one of his muscles was carved deep into a relatively normal frame, as if he was a wooden construct made solely to display muscles. He wore an orange robe that left the right side of his chest bare. He walked over to Bran’s table, eyeing Eden with innocent curiosity the whole way.

“Now, Bran,” he said, “I thought I was the only elf on the team.” Then he added, playfully, “Was it that I was too boring?”

“It wasn’t that, Vorol.” Bran replied with a smile. “The problem is that I pick up vagrants as one does puppies. I mean, you’re a prime example of such, yourself. Anyway, meet the new recruit.” Vorol held his hand out to Eden, who was still sitting.

“I’m Vorol, a gladiator at the colosseum across town.”

Eden swallowed. This guy was intimidating. He seemed nice enough, but the he-elf was imposing without even trying! “Eden, traveling bard.” she said as she shook his hand.

“Say, where do you hail from, Eden?” Vorol asked with a friendly smile as he sat in an empty chair.. He was very direct, wasn’t he? Straight to the personal questions, then.

“Almaz. The Whitestone City was my home until recently.”

“No, I meant–” Bran put his hand on Vorol’s shoulder and said,

“I think she knows what you meant, Vorol.”

“Right. Please accept my apologies.” Eden tilted her head, looked at Vorol sideways with a small smile, and said,

“I accept them. But please remember that from here on out, your apologies belong to me.” She felt a miniscule amount of power settle into the core of her being and smiled even wider. Bran and Vorol just stared at her silently, as if she had grown a second head.

“Your second elf is a strange one, Bran.” Eden heard from the doorway as someone else walked in. Eden, a bright shade of spring, turned to look at the man coming towards the table and froze, turning to deep winter. Walking towards her, watching her with two golden eyes, was a stern-looking elavis, with close-cropped bright blonde hair. He was dressed in a white robe that was lined with red and gold; emblazoned upon the chest area, just above the heart, was a depiction of a single black eye that looked like someone had gotten excited about a new bottle of eyeliner and went to town on it. Eden had seen that eye before, back at Almaz: Tefnum, a human who had frequented her bar for a couple weeks before disappearing, had that symbol on his hand. To top that, this was the first elavis Eden had seen since Azrael fell through the street. It wasn’t Azrael, but the elavis now standing before her reminded her of both Azrael and Sael. Her insides churned for a moment; she missed her friends. It wasn’t right, what happened to them.

“And you change color, to boot.” the elavis said to Eden, interrupting her thoughts. “Vorol, can you do that?”

“No, I’ve never seen anything like it. She says she’s a bard, but I don’t think color-changing is standard for a bard.”

“And who might you be?” Eden asked, finally speaking up. The elavis turned his gaze back to her.

“Sariel. I’m an acolyte at the local temple of Ra. What’s your name?”

“You may call me Eden.” She stated politely. Sariel took the remaining seat at the table. “We’ve got a noble with connections, a gladiator, and a bard–what is it you do, Sariel?”

“I’m a spellcaster. Fire and light seem to be my specialty, though I can cast a few other miscellaneous spells. But noble? Bran has his own specialty. He’ll be coming with us on our missions.” Eden, who was still in winter, had a thought: everyone here might be established professionals and she was just starting out. Would she be able to keep up?

“How, um, how many missions have you guys been on? Just so I know what I’m measuring up against.”

Bran spoke up. “None, to my knowledge. I’ve got a good bit of experience getting into places where I don’t belong undetected. I’ve used those skills to embarrass many of my family’s opponents. That, and I’m a decent tinkerer on the side, but that kind of comes with my House’s occupation; House Leland is contracted to make all of Valekenport’s technological marvels and heavy weaponry.”

“Heavy weaponry?”

“Ballistae, trebuchets, cannons, and the like. Vorol has established himself as a formidable contender in the arena, but has little experience outside the colosseum. Sariel is laying the groundwork to become a priest in his temple–”

“Ra’s temple.” Sariel corrected.

“–Yes, Ra’s temple. But Sariel isn’t a cleric. His magic manifested on its own. Sariel, what are your three main spells?”

“I might not be a cleric, but due to my profession, praying does empower my spellcasting a bit. My main list of spells, though? Tossing a fist-full of fire, healing minor to possibly serious injuries–that varies, by the way–and causing blindness in individuals.”

“So,” Vorol chimed in, “What can you do?”

“I can put people to sleep, heal some injuries, the magnitude of which,” she replied, fiddling with the scar on her shoulder, “is to be determined, I can make small illusions appear, both visual and audible, and I am generally good for morale.” That last part was a bit of bravado on her part, but she felt confident enough that it was the right moment for bravado. She checked her hands. Yep, back to autumn.

“Knock, knock!” Eden heard a voice say from the doorway. The voice was female, specifically an alto, and had an almost echoey quality to it; more than that, though, Eden had a feeling; one that she had felt before. It was a very similar feeling to the one she had when the raven appeared at the temple of Odin, but not quite as powerful as that same feeling she had when Garm, the giant wolf-thing, attacked Almaz. It was like the feeling of magic, in that a shiver went through her, but it also felt like her skin was suddenly translucent–like whatever was causing this feeling could see into her. Eden knew before she even turned to look that this had to be Senator Mystern. When Eden did look, however, she was momentarily confused. Striding over to the table was a robed, middle-aged woman with hip-length, wavy, jet-black hair and electric-blue, starburst eyes–but the confusing part was that for a moment, no, for a fraction of a moment, it looked like the Senator had six arms. The effect gave Eden the feeling of crossing her eyes–as if, should she try to see the effect again, a headache would inevitably develop. Nevertheless, the sight of six arms was gone and Mystern was sitting at an adjacent table. She held a finger up to her mouth, indicating that she wanted the group to refrain from speaking. Mystern took out a folded piece of paper and read from it, chanting for a few seconds in what Eden recognized as the language of dragons, but still had no idea what was being said. There was a brief scream from somewhere on the roof, a flash of blue, and the paper disappeared in a flash of blue flame.

“There,” Mystern said in a relaxed voice, “Now we can speak without prying ears listening.”

“Did the spy see any of us come in?” Bran asked, his eyebrows raised.

“No, he had only just arrived when I came up to the door. It seems the thieves’ guild is interested in why I reserved a tavern all to myself. The spell I cast has sealed the room, notified me that there was no one else trying to find out what is taking place here, and the spy on the roof has now been teleported to his own personal jail cell where he will spend the next seventy-two hours considering why he is in the predicament he’s in. Now… Lord Leland, it is nice to see you again, though it is sooner than expected, and it’s good to see everyone here early.”

“Your greetings are reciprocated, Senator. Thank you for being involved with our group.”

“I see you took my advice and recruited an additional member, though one more on top of that wouldn’t hurt.”

“Respectfully, you did say that you would leave the organization of my group to me, Senator.” Bran said rather gingerly.

“So I did. Darling,” she said, now turning to Eden, “who might you be?” Eden turned to winter on the spot, almost matching the color of Mystern’s eyes.”

“You may call me Eden, Senator. Simply a bard that Bran recruited.”

“I may call you Eden? Hm… You’re foreign aren’t you? Judging by your reactions, foreign to the city, and judging from your color-changing trait, you’re a lot more foreign than that.” Eden didn’t reply. She had been put on the spot and it was uncomfortable. “Bran!” Mystern exclaimed after what seemed like a long while, but, in all actuality, was likely only a couple seconds, “You’ve found a marvel in our city, haven’t you? She’s a perfect addition!” Bran only smiled. “Eden, I ask that you excuse my poor manners; I am excited that you’re a part of this.” Eden slowly began the shift back to autumn and smiled sheepishly.

“Now,” Mystern continued, “on to business. I apologize for the short notice of this meeting.” She turned to Eden. “We were scheduled to meet a month from now, if Bran hasn’t told you.” Bran hadn’t told her, but Eden nodded anyway. “It was the purpose of this group to find a way into the thieves’ guild’s money vault and remove the money, and therefore the lion’s share of the guild’s influence; if the guild can’t pay its thieves, the thieves either become less organized, or move on to greener pastures. If they do neither, then they are easier to take down, and the city will do that, whereas they couldn’t before.”

“So what changed?” Bran asked. It seemed he wasn’t afraid to interrupt. A shadow of a smile passed over Mystern’s face; Bran’s boldness wasn’t something she minded, it seemed.

“There has been… a change in the winds. That’s as best I can describe it before going into exactly what the issue we’ll be tackling is. I can feel when something big has shifted in fate; I can’t see fate like the gods can, mind you, but I can sense it if the shift is big enough. I can sense it around you.” She nodded to Eden. “So before I get to the point, please, Eden, satisfy my curiosity: do you know what the cause of it is? You were directly under something… empty. That’s the best word I have.”

“The destruction of Almaz.” Eden said, determined to stay autumn. “I was there in the city when it happened.” Mystern nodded sagely.

“That makes sense. I can’t leave Valekenport to investigate that just this moment, but I do believe the loss of Almaz was not something that was supposed to happen. It may have also affected other things, such as the reason I called this meeting. It all feels wrong.

“So, onto the point. The younger lord of House Joyautombe was kidnapped, here in the city, three nights ago.”

“I don’t recognize the House. Was it a House of Almaz?” Bran asked. Everyone looked at Eden, who had no clue, but before she could address it, Mystern answered.

“No, it’s a House, specifically a human House, in the northern city of Eisweg. Here’s why that’s relevant: Jacques, his father, was a notorious pirate in his youth. It’s said that while he sailed the western ocean in his ship The Headsman’s Joy, he raided not only ships, but the hoards of krakens, dragons, and monsters of the deep. When he had his fill, he took the treasure, bought a title for himself–he was rich enough to purchase the necessary land, resources, and trades for it to be valid in the eyes of the great Houses of Eisweg, and, ultimately, the eyes of Eisweg’s royal family. Supposedly the wealth he spent wasn’t even a quarter of the treasure. He stored another quarter of the treasure with the Bank of Fiery Trust. Now, Eden, just in case you haven’t heard of that bank, let’s just say that armies have tried to assault the bank and have been unsuccessful. One half of the treasure was supposedly buried along the coast somewhere in Valekenport’s area, but the likely option is that it was secured somewhere in Valekenport itself. The thieves’ guild has been unable to find it, thus far, and I know this for a fact. The thieves’ guildmaster would have used the money to make for himself a stake in our government if he had those kinds of resources.

“Now, Jacques’ only son is taking an extended holiday, here in Valekenport. Or at least he was. But he has disappeared. One of his friends that he brought with him, a rather flamboyant fellow named ‘Othello’ contacted me and told me that he witnessed several large men forcibly remove both Renaugh Joyautombe and his orc friend, Fergus, from a bar over in the port section of town. Apparently, Othello had been left at a prior bar and had just caught up in time to see the pair carted away.”

“A noble? Down there?” Bran asked. “What was he doing there? I’m not oblivious to the irony of me asking this question, but most nobles aren’t like me.”

“I’m informed he was barhopping, and having a fabulous time doing it, too.” Mystern replied. “My concern is that the guild has taken him and will force some bit of information out of the poor lad that will lead the guild to the treasure.”

“Ah, so the mission is not purely a humanitarian one, but also a practical one for the city.”

“Naturally. Locate and rescue our missing noble. If he’s dead by the time you find him, notify the city watch. After that situation is squared away, get a jump on finding a way to break into the thieves’ guild’s vault. Now, if you will excuse me for a moment, I have some gifts stored away, but I will have to do some readjusting for our newest member. Feel free to discuss things while I’m gone.” With that, she opened up a door in thin air, stepped through, and the door closed behind her, disappearing into nothingness.

Sariel leaned back into his chair and whistled. “Locate and rescue a lord. It looks like we have our work cut out for us. Finding someone kidnapped by the guild won’t be like trying to find a needle in a haystack–it’ll be like trying to find a specific flea in a flock of sheep.”

Vorol grunted in agreement. “Ten to one odds our missing lord has been taken underground in that maze the guild calls their base of operations.”

“That might actually work out,” Bran offered, “since we need to find our way to the guild’s vault anyway.”

“How would we carry all those coins out and escort a potentially weak and slow person out, in the same trip, without getting killed?” Eden asked.

“We needn’t complete both objectives in one go.” Bran reasoned. “I mean, in a perfect world, that would be great, but Valekenport is anything but perfect. If Lord Joyautombe happens to have been taken down below the city, then we will rescue him and try to get the lay of the land, and hopefully find a route to the vault. We can always come back later to make an assault on the vault.”

“If we do it that way,” Vorol intoned, “then the guild will be on high alert and will redouble their checkpoints, weaponry, personnel, and other defenses for our return. It might not be wise to return the second time without an army.”

“Likely our approach will be decided the closer we get to that decision.” Bran said, reassuringly.

“How are we supposed to get the money out of the vault, anyway? Isn’t the whole purpose of vaults to prevent unwelcome people from accessing the contents?” Eden asked.

“I’ve got a plan for that. But, first things first, we should focus on finding Lord Joyautombe.” Bran said.

“How right you are!” Mystern exclaimed, suddenly back in her seat. Her sudden appearance caused the entire group to jump. “But, first, gifts!” She pulled four small rectangles from the depths of her robes and passed them to the group, one by one. Eden looked at the rectangle she was given and found it had a passable likeness of her face inscribed on it, with “Eden,” “Weapons License Class A,” and “Cleared to own, purchase, handle, carry, sell, and wield all recognized weapons within city limits, both in public and private dwellings, provided no crime is committed with them” inscribed into it.

“We get to have weapons!” Eden cried gleefully, before she could stop herself, turning to spring in the process.

“Yes, you now have weapons licenses, and your pictures are being passed around to the watch as we speak, so you shouldn’t be bothered. Just in case some don’t get the message, keep those cards with you and present it when asked. Another thing. Bran, do you plan on wearing any armor?”

“Only some leather padding, senator. Something to soften blows a bit.”

“Wear a light jacket over it.”

“Yes…ma’am…?

“Here, I want everyone to reach over and touch this.” Mystern said, holding out a large red coat button. Everyone did so; Sariel had to practically climb over the table because he wasn’t willing to walk around. Upon touching the button, it briefly glowed blue.

Mystern passed the button to Bran and said, “When you find the jacket you want to use, press that button over another button, and it will take that button’s place. That button is your one and only panic button you’ll get. As you know, this isn’t a legally sanctioned group. If you get yourselves into trouble with law enforcement, or you get yourselves into a fight you can’t win, you may snatch off that button, and I will appear nearby to assist you and get you out of whatever trouble you may have gotten yourselves into. Any one of you can snatch off the button, but it will not be removed by anything or anyone other than you all. The jacket itself would wear away before that button could be removed by an outside force. Know this: it is a one-time-use item and I will not give you another. I can make up an excuse to the other senators as to why I helped out a group of people once. Anything more than that and I risk outing myself as a backer of your group. Use it wisely.

“One more thing. Vorol, I took the liberty of retrieving a spear from the colosseum. I know you have other preferences, but this should be useful in any case…” She reached into her robes and pulled out, point first, a six-foot spear. Eden’s eyes widened as Mystern pulled it out.

“How…? Where…?” was all Eden could get out. Mystern looked at her and smiled. Most of my robes have their own magical storage space. It ensures I have whatever I need whenever I need it.”

Sariel asked, “Where can I obtain a robe such as that?”

“I had this one made for a mere fifteen thousand gold. I could introduce you to the tailor, if you wish.” Mystern said without the slightest hint of insincerity. “Ah, and, Eden, I obtained this for you.” Mystern also pulled out a dagger that Eden recognized as the one Ichabod gave to her. Eden turned to winter and received the dagger from the senator. The demigod paused for a moment and said,

“Such things are difficult and sometimes necessary, child. But, as with every generation, we must strive to be better than our mentors.” Eden’s jaw dropped and the rest of the group looked on with confusion. How did Mystern know? Did she know? Was it a demigod thing? Mystern just smiled and continued pulling out weapons, handing what looked like a plain wooden staff with a knot at the top to Sariel and a curved shortsword to Bran, and when she was done, she said,

“Anything else you need should be purchased in the Golden Corner.”