It was beyond anything that Otis had experienced before, certainly. A potion that caused a limb to take on a reptilian, nay, draconic visage? One that could apparently destroy rupa, but one that simultaneously drove those in the vicinity into the mindscape of the one being targeted? Davil’s memories, his aspirations, ran past Otis like streams of light, like beams of rain, the Strigidae opening his hands up as if to catch this sublime moment, so much like shifting to another plane, and yet completely different still. His own Adapa took it all in, memorializing this perhaps once-in-a-lifetime happenstance.
And perhaps therein laid Davil’s incompetencies, the clash between what he was and what he wished. A natural-born killer, but even a child could kill. Otis was no romanticist, but even he could recognize the difference between a knight and a swordsman. A Personal Barrier could not be formed if one had delusions about what one truly was. An Ethos would malfunction still, if one knew the keywords but did not comprehend the prime essence.
The world re-emerged, as if a young man’s history and tragedy was nothing more than a daydream. Otis stared at the calcified limb, listened to the doctor’s prognosis, and sighed. A week of bedrest meant the postponing of the studies in Davil’s Ethos, no doubt. And with all the chaos that transpired within just two days at Wingram Academy, would there even a school by the time seven days was up?
He brushed aside those thoughts at the moment, and instead, turned to address the imp that remained in Raja’s clutches.
“So, are you related to the Umbralist? I distinctly recall a few of your attacks possessing a similar corrosive effect.” It was only a passing question though, one more to encourage some curiosity from others, as Otis’s gaze found itself upon Dr. Sylv. “Doctor, if you could explain what that potion was and what you had just done, that would be absolutely wonderful.”
Lougham was a nice place. As nice as a borough of Nocturnia could be expected to be, at the very least. The view of it from Silverside was a pleasant one, and the suits that were lucky enough to work in an office by the river could get some glimpses of green in their day to day lives. The even luckier ones would cross the water at night, returning home after their shifts.
Adel had been getting more familiar with Lougham lately. He could see it from the top floor suites, or on the occasional walk down the riverside, and of course when he visited the area himself.
It was neutral territory, though for how much longer he didn’t know for sure. But he could hazard a guess.
The Silver Canary looked a little out of place there, but not enough to cause any alarm in its residents. He stood with his back to the building’s brick wall in well tailored shirt and trousers, a cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. His hair also hung loosely, trailing down his neck until it reached just below his shoulders. He and a couple of his men were waiting in what was quickly becoming ‘the usual spot.’
As it were, the usual spot was just the parking lot of a defunct Target. Even in a middle-income district like Lougham, it wasn’t as if businesses were immune to failure, especially franchises that have been practically cut off from the distribution centers that once supported them. Twenty years after the shut-down, it had become a fenced-off piece of property that no local developer had interest in touching yet. Made for a perfect meeting place for local and not-so-local gangs though.
As usual, however, neither the Silvery Canary nor the Order of Enlightenment knew how to dress for the part. While Adel showed up in a well-tailored suit, Matthias showed up with his entourage in robes of deep purple (that they had put on a couple blocks away; they weren’t so shameless as to wear such attire through public transit). Some kid in the neighbourhood thought that they were shadow wizards. Matthias had put on a bit of a show for them, but now, it was all business.
“Good day,” he spoke, his face in constant flux. “I see a couple new faces here. Bringing out new members for the experience, Adel?”
The man tipped his head to reciprocate the greeting. "Sure, you could say that."
It was pretty easy to tell which among Adel's men had been with him for a while. They were a mix of tailored clothes and hand me down jackets, showing who among them had stuck around long enough for their paychecks to start paying off. Some of these new faces were twisted in surprise by their first time ever meeting the man behind the Order of Enlightenment. It was also obvious that they were confused about how a person with no eyes could 'see' them. This would be good for them; if they wanted to survive in a city like this, let alone a business like this, they'd have to learn to expect the unexpected.
But speaking of business.
"So," Adel said, pushing off from the abandoned department store to stand up straight, respectfully giving Matthias and his group his full attention. "It hasn't been that long since the last time we did business. What do you have in mind now...?"
“Just goes to show how valuable your work is to a humble faith as mine.” Matthias tried for a smile, but it was trying to draw an image in a bucket of paint; it melted away before it could even form. “The Del Guarde. As far as my own have dug, there seems to be no…connection that they have to Nocturnia. I’d like you to look into them, Adel. Find out how connected they are to the Commissioner. Though I suppose, failing that, all I truly need to know is what their next step will be.”
For a moment Adel appeared to be considering the request. He always let a small stretch of silence linger after something like this was asked of him, taking the time to study his business partners and parse their intent. Searching the other man's face was practically impossible (Or, maybe he just hadn't learned how to read signs in the smoke), so Adel's soft brown eyes flicked over the cult leader's shoulders, his hands, even down to his shoes, reading his body language instead.
Del Guarde. They were definitely an anomaly among the police in Nocturnia. Of course with the various stations throughout the city there were precincts bordering on militant, but then there were these guys. It was weird, to say the least. To be honest Adel had been curious about them too, ever since they had established themselves a couple years ago.
"Getting skittish with them so close by?" Adel said, bringing his cigarette up to his lips and motioning for one of his men to approach. If the rumors about the Order's own growth were to be believed, it made sense to want to learn about Del Guarde. One slip up and the whole unit could come flooding into Riverbend. Maybe even without a slip up, with the way things had been going lately.
A skinny man with a stubbled chin handed Adel a small notepad and a pen. Before writing anything his gaze went back to the shifting haze where Matthias' face would be. Clearly he expected an answer to his casual question.
“Skittish is one way to describe it.” Matthias shrugged. There was a stiffness to his gestures, but perhaps that was more owing to the fact that as the leader of a religion, he had to present himself in a particular way no matter the situation. “Another way to describe it would be that I would like to be…neighbourly with them.”
Neighborly, huh? Adel didn't quite trust that. Then again he didn't trust much of anything. Still, as far as questionable groups in the city went there were far worse than the Order of Enlightenment at the moment. And in the interest of being neighborly himself, he'd keep doing business with them.
"I can get you the information," the Canary promised. He scribbled a number onto the paper and tore it from the pad, pinching the page in half before offering it to Matthias. His price.
If Matthias had brows to lift, he would have.
“Your competitors charge a quarter of that, normally.” Though, of course, there was only one that came in mind as an actual competitor of the Silver Canary. “Explain?”
"My 'competitors' are also a quarter as effective," came the retort. Adel didn't deign to curl his fingers into air quotes, but they were obvious enough in his voice even as he spoke around the stick in his mouth.
"I can find out what their captain's relationship is to Commissioner Franchesca and how good his standing is. I'll see what they're planning, what they've already got planned. If you really want to get to know them, show up at their door with a jello mold like a good neighbor, I'll even tell you if they've got the doorbell booby trapped."
Adel inhaled, drawing the tobacco smoke in. He didn't think he needed to point out that something was brewing within the city, and the cost was indicative of growing risk. And, privately, maybe Adel thought he could get away with squeezing the cult a little bit. But he was open to the little song and dance of negotiation at the moment.
He tucked the notepad into his breast pocket, taking his cigarette between his fingers once more. "You know my information's good. Hasn't failed you before, has it?"
“It defeats the purpose of gaining information if I’m incapable of acting upon it.” Regardless of how zealous his most loyal followers were, in the end, bullets and medicine both cost money. And with coffers emptied out, one could hardly be expected to even defend themselves. Far too many mafias have ended up in that situation, spending recklessly in pursuit of a great gain, only to be struck from behind by an adversary. Matthias watched as the cigarette smoke lingered in the air. Then, he spoke, raising a finger.
“Your information is good, Adel. Let’s cut a deal to make it better, instead of concerning ourselves with material exchange.” The prophet made a gesture towards the southwest. “For info on the Del Guarde’s planned activities and relationship with the broader force, I will give you free passage through Waterfront Vale for one month, for information gathering, whether personal or business.”
Now that was enticing... not that anything but indifference shown on Adel's face. Unfortunately, they happened to live in a world of material exchange.
"That's generous. But you understand we can't exactly do work without pay, Matthias." There was insurance to buy, palms to grease. "Hm. You give me that Vale access, I'll cut the price in half."
“Halved price, paid over two weekly installments, starting from next week.” The Lodestar folded his arms. “These are delicate times, Adel. After the last city-wide conflict, all factions have been scrambling to rebuild their coffers.”
It was at times like these that Matthias wished he still had a face. He could maybe fake a smile, or incline his head. With the distorted smoke that made up his head though, any of those motions could just be mistaken for a slight change in the wind.
“Of course, if you insist on an immediate payment for services rendered, we can revisit this deal next week.”
"Jeez, you trying to make me look bad in front of my newbies? I need part of it upfront. I'll collect the other portion after two weeks when I deliver."
The brunette shrugged one shoulder, a gesture of 'take it or leave it.'
“Then we shall revisit this at another time.”
Matthias turned to leave, only to stop and ask, “I suppose an email would suffice for that, Adel?”
The Silver Canary didn't look the least bit put out with how the meeting had turned out. You win some and you lose some. But there was the slightest amused quirk of his lips. "Sure, Matthias."
With business, or lack there of concluded, he glanced at the group he'd brought along and did a short tip of his head. It was back across the river, until next time.
"Keep in touch."
It was in the late afternoon that Asterion received a letter stamped by the symbol of the Order of Enlightenment, delivered to him from an employee of Kairo Skyscraper. In it was a simple QR Code that, upon inspection would lead to a private teleconferencing room, one that would open up in two days.
Samuel handed the letter over to him with a silent curiosity in his eyes which caused Asterion to stare at him for a few extra seconds. They were connected by a piece of paper that was stamped by the symbol of the Order of Enlightenment —Matthias FitzClarence. “Is there something you need to tell me before you let go of this letter?” the man inquired without hesitation or breaking eye contact with the scrawny teenager who an older employee pleaded for him to take in. Something about his sister’s son needing a job or a good recommendation.
“N-no, sir. I…” the young man seemed to stutter with his words trying to figure out how to explain everything. “Some random person gave this to me on my way into work,” Samuel stated nervously as if he was already getting in trouble.
Asterion seemed to cautiously take the letter from him and inspect the letter more, especially the symbol that sealed it. “Thank you, Samuel,” he let out while he twirled the letter a few times to determine if it was trapped or not. Was there that icky white substance waiting for him that would kill him on inhalation? One wouldn’t know until the letter was open. His stormy blue eyes wandered up to Samuel again who was not leaving his office.
The man cleared his throat a little and sighed again, “I said thank you, Samuel.”
Samuel’s face turned to one of embarrassment that was clouded by a blush, “Oh! That means you want me to leave, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, please.”
He watched the teenager almost too quickly leave his office and he shook his head. The young man had only been working there for a week and he couldn’t tell if he was an idiot or ignorant to silent communication. There was definitely an aura of the kid not being able to read a room. Once the door of the office shut and clicked close, he whispered to himself, “He will not last long unless he starts learning.”
Opening the letter to discover a QR-code, his brows furrowed, and he brought out a mobile device to scan it. This mobile device hooked up to his computer and it brought him to the teleconferencing room which had a countdown… 2:00:00:00. The page fully loaded and started counting down. 1:23:59:43.
A smirk appeared on Asterion’s lips, “I will see you in two days, Matthias FitzClarence.” On that day, on that hour, on that minute, on that second, Asterion entered the call once more to be greeted by a headless individual, dressed in a three-piece suit. A virtual background showed what looked to be a cozy, European cafe, but this certainly was no book club that he was attending.
“Asterion, I presume?” The headless man spoke, the background rippling as if a mirage. “I apologize for my unconventional appearance; the app seems to think my head is to be filtered out.”
Asterion’s face twisted as he held back a sarcastic comment with a forced, “Mhm…” to answer the other man. Forcing all the half-jokes that he might be the only one finding anything humorous about his words. “I have seen worse,” he decided to go with something neutral instead of making a comment about the man’s appearance. It might be a soft spot since he brought it up first.
“Is it safe to assume that you are Matthias?”
“Quite safe.”
There was the pretense of contemplation. It was only pretense. Others may have ways of exchanging pleasantries, or of manipulating the direction of a conversation via subliminal charm, but Matthias simply plowed ahead instead. If there was something that needed to be said, it would be said. And in this particular case…
“You’ve heard of the plane overhead, yes? Nocturnia has been designated as a no-fly zone for civilian and passenger aircraft for a while now, owing to the Gyfts present. And despite that, aircraft flew overhead nonetheless. From the Riverbend, the Order spotted packages being airdropped into Yellow Brick; I’m certain that your men would have spotted the same.” Matthias gestured with both hands, one raised while the other lowered. “The Commissioner herself does not receive such support from the outside world, yet they’ve deigned to do so for the Del Guarde. As such, I’m here to offer an alliance, Asterion.”
He clasped his hands together.
“You take 93rd. I take Pauper Town. And together, we rid Nocturnia of these outsiders within a fortnight.” Matthias looked towards the camera…but of course, his determined gaze didn’t show up on the screen. “Does this sound agreeable?”
Asterion listened to the other man through the somewhat fuzzy-audio that was happening and he pushed down a sigh that wanted to come out. His technology wasn’t fully updated but it wasn’t old either — he had a lack of interest in technology for the most part, to say the least. Everything was heard which was the important part and a shrug of his shoulders happened, “I think more than just my men saw it. Civilians too,” he added on. “I bet a handful of other crimelords have noticed it as well and it has probably caught the attention of most.”
“Before I accept anything, is that all? We team up, we get what we want, and then what of it afterwards? Are we still having a penny or two in each other’s slots or?” Asterion wanted to answer before anything. More than not, he wanted to see the reaction of the man, as he asked that question. Did Matthias think that far into the future? Did he plan on dropping him like a newborn calf when he got what he wanted? How short was this alliance going to be or how fueled could that make it and make it last?
“I’ve no interest in competing over Heavy Crossguard, if that’s what you were wondering about,” Matthias replied. “And as for broader details, hrm…yes.”
He opened his hands once more, a guide offering passage for the restless soul.
“It’s a troublesome situation to find ourselves in, no? After the last city-wide ‘incident’, all noteworthy factions within Nocturnia have practically emptied their coffers, and we’re only now rebuilding. But while legitimate businesses such as ours must compete with our own, the police are free to share and pool resources, safe in the understanding that they are on the same side. The Commissioner keeps a type grip on her leash, after all.” Not that it was a bad thing, all things considered. Open warfare and rampant crime was just as unpleasant as a fully-realized police state. It was better that things were perpetually simmering, not boiling over. “If this temporary alliance goes well, I suppose we’ll become neighbours. And if that happens, I wouldn’t mind sharing with a neighbour if it means a pig will bleed.”
Asterion shrugged his shoulders with Matthias’s reply, “I’m not interested in Heavy Crossguard,” he confessed, since it was not something on his radar for the moment. It wasn’t something that was in his immediate future’s aim. “Then that settles it, I am always up to give a cup of sugar to a neighbor,” Asteiron chuckled. That was when someone busted through his office door and his eyes got serious and locked onto whoever was behind the camera of the computer. Boss, there is a crazy fucking bitch blowing shit up down the street. She looks like a twisted cartoon character,” the unknown man stated.
Asterion rolled his eyes and put his face into his hand for a moment as if he was inconvenienced more than anything. “Fine. I’ll take care of it,” The dark haired man on the camera looked up and with an overwhelming flash, the flash died down, and all the life in the body that was on that side of the camera looked non-existent. There was nothing in that body anymore as it slumped over in the chair and when the head flopped to the lower shoulder, its eyes were white, and lifeless. No soul.
The man with the nameless crew was gone.
“Ughhhhhhh.”
With a drawn-out groan, Matthias closed the laptop and finally allowed himself to slouch against his chair, his body sliding, sliding, sliding until he laid with his body flat against the seat, his head ‘pressed’ into a flat, wide stream of smoke against the backrest. If he could wipe the sweat off his forehead, he would, but he settled for rubbing his hands against his trousers instead. Sleep no longer came to him, and Matthias didn’t even feel tired the same way others with flesh-brains may have, but the work of staying on top of everything nevertheless took a particular mental toll. The deal with the Silver Canaries fell through, while he felt like he signed a deal with the Devil in Cyrus, and though Asterion was willing to collaborate, those were nevertheless just words in the end, with no guarantee. Meanwhile, the Del Guarde weren’t prevented from being a buncha scary spooks armed to the teeth with outside weaponry, and the Police Commissioner was personally asking for his head so he couldn’t even take it easy and gradually plan out the takeover of Pauper Town. It was like juggling slippery ice cubes that also contained explosives that triggered on impact so if you dropped them you blew up. The work was endless and the work was tricky.
And he had to figure out how to keep the newcomers in line as well! God, if he could enjoy one day without having to worry about his congregation selling their kidneys or testicles to scrounge up funds for the Order, that’d be just lovely, but of course they were still insistent on building their own Library of Alexandria rather than getting a throwaway laptop and going to freetextbooksxxx.com.
Matthias flopped around a bit more, more like a fish than a human being, until he finally fell off his chair altogether, hitting the ground with a deflated ‘whump’. Humans fulfilled basic needs as a form of handling stress, but him? He couldn’t eat, couldn’t drink, and couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t fuck either; felt like any move in that direction would either turn him into an actual sex-addict cult leader or get himself stabbed by his congregation for falling to base monkey desires. Best he could do was crash on the couch and zone out scrolling through social media for a couple hours, but…
“Alright.” He pinched his arm, giving it a bit of a twist. Couldn't slap his face to get his head together, after all “Get your head in the game, buddy-boo. Just gotta call ‘em up, tell ‘em it’s-a-go, and catch a ride to Waterfront Vale.”
After all, it was something he would have done, even if Cyrus didn’t tell him what laid within, even if Adel had presented information that was concerning, even if Asterion didn’t see how their goals would align. He had prepared for it already.
They would take Pauper Town, either with faith or with force.
Andre Valias,
LanaStorm,
Snowdrops,
ScreenAcne,
Xaltwind,
wintersoldier,
Herald,
Estylwen,
AThousandCurses,
Skyswimsky
