The Lich Without a Soul Vessel

Night fell, and the four of them gathered together. Evan laid out everything Xiaoshuang had overheard. A chill ran through the group — willing to sacrifice several dozen Hollingburton lives, and everyone else aboard besides, without a second thought. Genuine outrage rose in all of them.

"Gonuo Society, without a doubt. Vicious, absolutely vicious. If Professor Wang hadn't noticed something was off, we'd all have died in our sleep, none the wiser. Gonuo Society — I won't let this go," Damire said, bitter.

"Enough on the Gonuo Society for now — let's get ready to act," Evan said. "Jessica, Emma, use your mental power to seal off the area, so anyone passing by naturally avoids it without noticing. Professor Damire and I will go in and subdue the two of them. Xiaoshuang, just to be safe, slip in invisibly through the vent. If either of them tries anything, stop them with magic." Xiaoshuang gave a delighted acknowledgment.

The four of them moved into position as Evan directed. Jessica and Emma took up posts at either end of the corridor, raising a mental barrier to keep anyone from wandering through. Xiaoshuang slipped through the vent and found the two men waiting anxiously inside, several waterskins beside them filled with fresh water, along with strips of dried, smoked meat. They'd clearly prepared themselves thoroughly.

Evan gave a mental nudge, and the cabin's door bolt slid free on its own with a click. The door swung open, and both men startled upright at once. "Who's there?"

But Evan and Damire were already inside, silent as ghosts. Black smoke rose and coiled around both men before they could react, freezing them stiff, unable to force out even a single word.

Damire went straight to the crates, prying one open — packed full of alchemical explosive. He checked the rest, one after another, all twelve holding the same. Enough, if it all went off, to sink the ship entirely.

Damire's face turned grim. He stepped up to the two men, his voice low and furious. "Who put you up to this?"

Evan eased his hold just enough for them to speak. Both men looked utterly stunned, unable to process how everything they'd done had already been seen through.

"Answer me. Who's behind this?" Damire demanded again, fury blazing in his eyes, hair nearly standing on end.

Only then did the two seem to grasp this wasn't some nightmare. Mark let out a breath. "Corey put us up to it. Said you people threatened our organization's survival, and told us to finish you off."

"What organization?" Evan asked — not that he didn't already know, but he wanted it confirmed outright.

"The Gonuo Society."

Commotion sounded from outside, Jessica's voice carrying through. "Please don't come any closer, sir. We have some business here that doesn't concern anyone else. Stay back, please."

Evan found this strange — Jessica and Emma's barrier should have rendered them invisible to ordinary passersby entirely. Something must have come up. Setting the interrogation aside for a moment, he called out. "Jessica, what's happening?"

"A ranger's trying to push through," Jessica answered.

With the situation already well in hand, Evan said, "Jessica, Emma — drop the barrier. If this friend wants to come in, let him."

The barrier around them dissolved, and Jessica and Emma led a man inside. He wore a fitted, tailored set of plain clothes beneath a long cloak, a top hat on his head, a rapier belted at his waist — tall, lean, and handsome. The moment he stepped through the door and caught sight of the crates full of explosive, his expression flickered briefly before he swept off his hat with his right hand, holding it to his chest, and gave a small bow. "Lovely ladies, distinguished gentlemen, it's an honor to meet you all. I'm Johns. Might I ask what's happened here?"

Johns carried himself with impeccable manners, though wandering the ship this late at night wasn't itself especially proper. Evan and Damire returned small bows of their own. "Honored sir," Evan said, "as you can see, we've just stopped a plot to blow up the Northern St. Yardi. The two suspects have already been apprehended."

Evan gave a brief account of how they'd uncovered the plot, leaving out the personal history behind it — though that much already sufficed. As word spread through the cabin, the commotion drew attention from neighboring quarters, and people began arriving one by one. Hearing about the plot, they crossed themselves in horror, murmuring, "The Creator watch over us — thank goodness it was caught in time by these good souls, or the outcome doesn't bear thinking about. No, we can't let them off for this."

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The crowd grew steadily, word spreading fast even at this late hour. Heads poked out of cabin doors, bleary with sleep, asking what had happened — and waking up fast once they heard someone had tried to sink the ship. Seeing the explosives with their own eyes, fear gave way quickly to righteous fury.

The captain arrived in a hurry, and the sight of twelve crates of alchemical explosive left him briefly stunned. He managed to keep his composure, though, and questioned the two men directly, confirming the plot at once. He remembered, with a sinking feeling, that he'd been the one to wave those twelve crates through without inspection — no, someone had presented the governor's own note. He sensed things weren't nearly as simple as they seemed, and the truth in front of him bore that out.

Evan saw the affair had already grown far beyond containment, which suited him perfectly. Few here knew the Gonuo Society's name — but after tonight, that name would carry a real stain.

Evan turned to the captain. "Honored Captain, that something like this could happen aboard your very ship — surely your career as captain has reached its end here. How will you face your passengers after this?"

"I had no idea any of this was happening," the captain said, momentarily flustered, rushing to defend himself.

"I'm sure you didn't intend it. You were aboard yourself, after all. But how do you explain these twelve crates passing inspection at all? Every one of us had our own belongings searched by your crew," Evan pressed. He wasn't a man to simply absorb an injury without answering it. He already understood, from the two men's confession, that the governor of Kaines had to be tangled up in this somehow, and he found himself genuinely startled by the reach of the Gonuo Society, that they could secure a governor's own note. Since they'd chosen to cross him, Evan intended to return the favor.

"They carried the governor's note — the crates went through without inspection because of it. The governor's note—" Something seemed to click for him, and he turned urgently to question the crew. By then the first and second mates had arrived as well, along with several sailors.

After a thorough search and questioning, the governor's note turned up exactly as claimed. Holding it, the captain seemed to find some footing again — until Evan doused it with a bucket of cold water.

"You say it's the governor's note. What happens when the governor denies it? What will you do then?"

"I— what should I do?"

"These two men and the explosive shouldn't be handed over to Kaines's officials at all," Evan said. "Your ship's destination is Xilun's port of Yaan. Better to seek help from the shipping authority there — outside Kaines's jurisdiction entirely." Evan offered the suggestion freely.

The captain saw the sense in it immediately — hand this over in Kaines, and official interference was all but guaranteed. In Yaan, things would be different; the governor of Kaines's reach didn't stretch that far. He'd walked, without realizing it, straight into a trap of Evan's making. This wasn't, after all, a world governed by rule of law, and tensions ran deep between every nation — let alone between the beastmen and the so-called white peoples. None of that concerned Evan in the slightest. He'd done what needed doing, and if it happened to leave a black mark on the governor of Kaines's name in the process, well, Evan wasn't a man of particularly generous spirit — he couldn't strike back at the man directly right now, so a little reputational damage would do just fine.

Evan found himself genuinely curious about Johns. He knew that besides his own group, only two people aboard this ship counted as true ability-users — one weak enough that Evan barely registered him at all, and Johns, whose movements carried something of the wind about them, quick and unpredictable. Evan recognized the trait for what it was — a wind affinity, its defining strength showing itself above all in speed.

"Honored sir, might I invite you to join us for lunch tomorrow?" Evan offered. It had grown quite late by now — the captain had already sent men to haul the two prisoners away, along with the alchemical explosive, which they'd doused thoroughly with water to put everyone's mind at ease.

Johns gave a small bow. "It would be my honor to accept."

The next day, around noon, in the ship's dining hall, a linen cloth covered the oak table where five people now sat, a server standing attentively behind them. The soup had just been cleared away, the table wiped clean. The five set down their utensils, and Evan spoke. "Honored guest, I hadn't expected we'd share the same journey. Forgive my directness, but what brings you to Shrimp Peninsula? From what I understand, it's rather a remote corner of the world."

Johns dabbed at the corner of his mouth with his napkin, elegant in the gesture. "I'm going to visit someone who's been both mentor and friend to me. I'm a second son at home, with no inheritance to speak of. I sat your magical aptitude test once — nothing but a trace of wind affinity in me, and even that quite weak, not enough to make me a mage. But your examiners told my family I might do well training as a ranger or thief instead, that there might be some promise in it. I chose the ranger's path. My skill never amounted to much, though — until I met a priest, a former knight in his younger years, who taught me to fight with a rapier instead, saying my strength wasn't suited for heavier arms, that agility paired with my modest wind affinity would serve me better. That's how I became a ranger. I make a point of visiting him from time to time when I can."

Hearing the word "priest," Evan felt himself pull back slightly, though nothing showed on his face.

The server poured a dry white wine for each of them. Everyone took a sip, and the server picked up an oyster, cradling it in his palm, a small knife in the other hand. The narrow tip slid deftly into the oval shell. A light downward twist of the wrist, and the pale, translucent flesh came into view — plump and glistening, thoroughly appetizing.

Each shucked oyster went straight onto a large round platter lined with crushed ice, garnished carefully with a few wedges of lemon. No seasoning at all was needed — a few drops of lemon juice, and the oysters could be enjoyed exactly as they were, tender and full of their own natural brine.

Once everyone had finished the oysters, Jessica spoke up.