Arc 9-29
As Geneva goes through the front door with the horny thugs, Little Water and I circle around the building. It’s common for shops to have living quarters attached, either on a higher floor or behind the business. The discrete bar is no exception; Little Water follows me as I kick in a window on the second floor and we step into someone’s office. A quick spell lights a candle for Little Water’s benefit and she joins me in searching the room for information. My goal is the Grand Summoners, but I’m also interested in who the building belongs to and what they get up to when they’re not hosting an initiation into a cabal of murderers.
None of the scattered papers or books mention summoning or the Grand Summoners. A ledger shows a surprising amount of profit for a place at the edge of the neighborhood but, aside from that, there’s nothing immediately suspicious. The important things are signed by a T. Germine. I don’t recognize the name or the family, but I don’t think it’s due to my usual disinterest in the rich and not-so-powerful. None of the documents are stamped with either a family or personal crest. That suggests someone with money but no standing. The type desperate to reach the ranks of noble families, those cruel and desperate enough to sacrifice innocents without a second thought.
Amusingly, there is a record on the desk, the several pieces of stiff parchment pushed between the pages suggesting it’s been studied well. I frown as I see the marks on its binding; this is from the Summoning Hall. Did an acolyte smuggle this from the school? I doubt they let just anyone have their books.
This is almost as offensive as their ridiculous deal with Arrbutor. The Grand Hall’s dedication to preserving the knowledge of summoning is one of the things I admire most about Dunwayne’s project. They truly don’t discriminate between magical disciplines, preserving old traditions and making way for others to pursue new fields. This is spitting on that dedication. Is this a symptom of people plotting against Dunwayne? Will that beautiful, extensive library be up for grabs, desecrated by idiots who have no idea how to use the knowledge?
For the first time, I wonder if I made a mistake leaving the Hall out of my plans. But only for a moment. There aren’t many things this kingdom has gotten right. The Hall is one of those few things. If Dunwayne needs help preserving what he’s built, I might be convinced to lend a hand, but otherwise, I want to give them the chance to figure it out themselves. I want to believe in the legacy of the Harvest Hero.
I try not to think how little faith has rewarded me in my short life.
A cursory examination reveals nothing useful; there’s an impersonal bedroom that I doubt is slept in often, a tastefully decorated sitting room, and a large room filled with dozens of crates. Cracking one open reveals several glass bottles. Supplies for the bar. Subpar supplies. I open one of the bottles, curious about the quality of Howie’s competition. Competition is far too generous of a word. The flavor isn’t bad, just bland and simple. Nothing compared to the layered experience that strange halfling conjures with the bounty of the earth.
After our short investigation, there isn’t much to do. Thankfully, we don’t have to contend with boredom for long. A brush against my mind notifies me of Callan’s arrival. Little Water and I crouch at the top of the stairs, the estrazi leaning against my back as I take in the happenings below. Saints preserve them, I can’t see it but it’s not hard to paint a picture with what I hear. A little power has really twisted this cocky bastard. His delusions are almost admirable in their grandiosity.
It’s also disheartening to realize how many people would break the law for such little temptation. I’d assume a gold crown is more money than anyone downstairs has ever owned, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s not that much. If they’re frugal, they might eke out a stress-free year with it. Even the most generous application of the city’s charter would mean a decade of imprisonment for their role in the murder. Worse, their assets would be confiscated to support the family of the victim, so they won’t even get the chance to spend the money. I’m sure a few unlucky souls feel like they don’t have a choice, but the first one to spill blood has no excuses.
But I’ll deal with the thoughtless lackeys later.
Tonight, my focus is reserved for one man. A thought I never thought would cross my mind.
Callan doesn’t stay long to bask in the undeserved admiration. Once their reasonable minds have been soaked in enough drink to compromise their good sense, Callan’s lackeys begin to subtly interrogate them, learning how best to make use of them, while the man himself slips away, followed only by the Fey woman. They board a carriage waiting behind the building and ride off. From the window we broke into, I watch as Geneva steps outside. The pretty yet forgettable face she wears tilts up to meet my gaze, seeing right through the shadows obscuring us. Then that face melts. I avert my gaze as she shifts, only catching a hint of pulsing, scarlet flesh. After a breath, I turn back to see a large dog shaking itself off. It playfully barks before running after the carriage, its black fur easily dismissed in the colorful neighborhood.
We give them a large lead, as we’re far more noticeable. Then I slip out the window, turning back and holding out my arms. Little Water doesn’t hesitate to leap into them, her cool tail sending a chill down my spine as it wraps around me as she leans her head against my shoulder.
I deliberately don’t think about the intimate gesture as I run after my prey, constraining my body so we don’t cover the distance too quickly. Something that becomes a lot harder as me move through the busier streets.
Thankfully, we don’t remain in the MZ long. The carriage moves through the city, heading west. We’ve been rebuilding the city in spurts, balancing essential structures with residences. As a result, New Quest is a patchwork of new construction, cleared land, and depressing ruins. I’m not surprised he doesn’t head toward any of the completed districts. There isn’t much left over from my rampage but there are a few standing buildings, whole enough to offer shelter.
The one their carriage stops alongside has a hole in its face and no door, but it’s four walls and a roof. Callan steps out of the carriage first, holding out a hand to the woman. He shares a brief word with the driver before the carriage departs. Tsk tsk. Two of the central figures for his little movement in an isolated location without a single “soldier” to defend them. Even I can see this is a bad idea. Secrecy is its own protection but it’s rather flimsy.
Geneva meets us at the door, her canine form shifting into my familiar thrall. Her pink eyes look between me and Little Water but whatever she sees is kept to herself. “What did you think of their little ceremony, Lou?”
“Theatric. Insulting.”
“Oh?”
“Summoning is good enough without dangling perfect tits and a bigger cock as bait. He also misled them. Made promises that summoning isn’t going to be able to fulfill. Leash a dragon to a man? How did no one think that was suspicious?”
“The curious thing about hope is that it knows no bounds. Suffering is finite; it always ends with death. But hope? There is infinite possibilities.”
“Yeah, well, he spent the whole night telling them they’d have to sacrifice to get power. What do they think they’ll have to sacrifice for that?”
“People will sacrifice anything, as long as it is not themselves. Even the world.”
“That’s dumb.”
“Ironically, many ‘intelligent’ creatures are.”
“Are we going inside?” Little Water asks, understandably concerned that we’re standing around doing nothing when our targets are waiting. Or so it appears. I’m fully aware of what’s happening inside and Geneva no doubt is as well.
“Just letting them get comfortable.” The more relaxed someone is when a threat suddenly appears, the less likely they are to do something stupid. I want to talk to him and that’ll go better if I don’t have to break his wrist first. For that, I don’t mind waiting five minutes for them to get comfort—oh saints.
“So much for being in love with Kierra,” I grumble. Ugh. I don’t want to hear this.
“You love your wife and that doesn’t stop you.”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t know she gets off on that,” I grumble as I stomp into the building, eager to head this off before what I hear gets really uncomfortable.
The succubus chuckles as she follows, Little Water bringing up the rear.