53. Jobs and Operations

“Why am I not surprised?” The expedition leader from the Pearl Hunt. He approached Lukas and Mister Grey as they studied the mask closely, loudly discussing its history and design.  The Aquila guild’s emblem sat stitched across his left breast. 

“The prodigy of the Shadow Seekers mixing with the Rat King?” One of his companions asked. “It’s a match made in heaven.”

“I swear the guild has no standards or shame. They—”

“Enough.” The expedition offered Lukas a hand. “Your performance and bravery during the hunt impressed us all.” He glanced at his companions. “If you ever want to change organizations, we at the Aquila guild would be glad to have you. There’d also be an excellent signing bonus in it for you.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Lukas replied, flashing his most polite smile. “It comes as a surprise, honestly. I was sure your guild hates my guts.”

The man smiled. “People hate the Shadow Seekers for good reason. No one wants a watchdog tracking and analyzing all of their moves. You haven’t been with them long enough to taint your reputation, though. In fact, your  work with the Cold Fire sorcerer has only made you more desirable.” His eyes drifted to Mister Grey. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not surprised to see you here, Lukas Zaun. Given the circles you’ve thrust yourself into and who you associate with, I expected you as a guest of your employer or our friendly neighborhood retired wizard. But the King of Rats?”

“It’s funny.” Mister Grey didn’t look amused as he spoke. “You lot use the title as an insult, but I’ve long embraced it. Treat the city’s unwanted as rats and they’ll eventually rally under their own.”

“You’re nothing but a trafficker of—”

The expedition leader held up his hand, silencing his fellow guild member. “This is neither the time nor the place for an outburst.” His attention remained on Lukas. “Your associates and how you appear in public will paint the people’s perception of you. So, I advise you to choose your company carefully, Lukas Zaun. I do not know how you ended up here with who you did or your purpose here, but I hope you understand it's likely to harm whatever goodwill—”

“I appreciate the advice and am thankful for your guidance,” Lukas replied, maintaining an almost courtly air. He wasn’t out to anger anyone powerful, at the same time, he didn’t want to anger Mister Gray, at least not until he received the second half of his pay. “But I can choose my company and associates without everyone’s opinion and say so.”

“Young Mr Zaun saved someone important to me, and I owed him a favor.” Mister Grey flashed a polite smile. “And all who have heard of me know that despite everything that I’ve supposedly done, I always return my favors. It’s perhaps the one and only positive rumor about me that’s true.”

“I noticed you’re after the Aquila Founder badge,” the expedition leader said. “Another piece for your morbid collection?”

“I wouldn’t call it morbid,” Mister Grey protested, feigning offence. “I like surrounding myself with pieces of history, their stories, their soul. There is beauty in it.”

“Sounds like a bunch of bullshit,” one of the other Aquila members grumbled. 

“Think about my offer,” the expedition leader told Lukas, gesturing at his companions to move on. “It won’t last for long.”

Lukas failed to suppress his relief when the group finally moved on. They weren’t a part of the plan. He wanted things to go smoothly and quickly. The sooner he upheld the deal, collected the rest of his payment, and left, the better. He was prepared for things to go wrong, but that didn’t mean he wanted to deal with the aftermath of everything falling apart. 

Things were far more silent and formal as they studied other objects of interest. The pair still put on a show, discussing the displayed items and everything around them excitedly. But it seemed Mister Gray had already found whatever he wanted.

Food and drink circulated around the hallway. The colorful, smoky cocktails tempted Lukas. But he resisted. He couldn’t afford to let anything hamper his judgment. His eyes wandered, too, and Lukas blamed the young body. Iskander was full of beautiful women, but the guests in attendance had the privilege of pampering, skin care, hair removal, and the natural vitality that came with shards or magic. 

In fact, the sickly look had left Lukas altogether after his Body Pillar ascended to the second tier. His skin was nowhere near as pallid, and his cheeks were not gaunt. Esther claimed his eyes no longer appeared sunken, but he didn’t see much of a difference. Lukas imagined the young women around him had enjoyed significantly better nutrition along with the benefits of an ascended body, for significantly longer than him.

Wealth and power also impacted how the attention-grabbing guests carried and presented themselves. Elegance. Confidence. Grace. The ordinary citizens often came up lacking in most such departments. 

Lukas scanned the room for people who didn’t fit in or fit in far too well. He wasn’t just in attendance for the job’s sake. It was vital for him to also look out for the witches. Thanks to the clone one killed, he had a rough idea of how their magic functioned and felt. Esther and Penelope had taught him how to focus his arcane senses. It involved more than just paying attention. 

Instead, Lukas pulled all the magic he had deep into himself and focused it all on a point just below his navel. The exercise involved cutting oneself off from one’s own magic but still maintaining one’s arcane signature. It increased sensitivity to all nearby energies. Fortunately, Shade’s Mantle was born of a shard ability and remained functional. 

A multitude of arcane presences prickled at Lukas, poking at him and vibrating at the edges of his mind. He hadn’t used the technique in public before, only in a training setting. Attempts at creating clones who specialized in it had also failed.

Once Mister Grey was sure that they had seen everything he wished to purchase, he wandered off to speak to his ‘associates.’ Lukas used it as an excuse to revisit all the lots and study them again. He didn’t particularly care about them. It was an excuse to walk past the larger groups and analyze them with his arcane senses. Some shot him curious glances. Others looked at him with raw hostility before creating distance.

Maybe coming here with Mister Grey was a bad idea, after all. Or is this more of a guild or class issue?

It didn’t matter. Lukas’s time in Iskander was almost at an end. He didn’t care about making a good impression, only about getting the job done. Long-term connections were, of course, useful. He needed to stay on the good side of the conclave, and especially the Union of Guilds. Their wide reach would affect Lukas no matter where he went. He couldn’t afford to make an enemy of them or have them look on him poorly. That meant limiting his involvement with Mister Grey. He hoped that fleeing as soon as the auction ended and the Nightingale’s Rest was taken care of would suggest he had accompanied the gang leader against his will.

A painful sting arced through the back of Lukas’s mind. It was a familiar feeling. His clone had felt it moments before the witch’s magic struck. Lukas followed the feeling to a couple nearby. He recognized the male half. The man frequented City Hall. He didn’t sit on the council, but was one of the people who had a say in the running of the port, owning shares in several large importing and exporting businesses. 

His date was perhaps one of the most beautiful women Lukas had ever seen. Her skin was pale, almost lustrous, and unblemished. The woman’s face had almost perfect symmetry, and she wore her jet black locks up in an elegant bun. There was something unnatural about her beauty, reminding Lukas of Lady Silverspine in her human form. It was artificial. Manufactured with magic.

That’s her. The coven sent a representative, after all.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” A man called from the end of the ballroom. “The time comes. Please come forth with your tickets, and a personal butler will guide you to your personal box.”

__________________________

El-Four hated his job. Keeping watch while everybody did something useful and exciting bothered him. El-Prime was off at the auction, and all of the other clones were either waiting outside City Hall or had infiltrated. Meanwhile, he sat on a perch outside of the Nightingale’s Rest, watching as Penelope, Bass, and two squads of Shadow Seekers entered the high-end brothel.

Nothing happened for the first handful of minutes. All was silent, and El-Four’s heart pounded out of his chest. The suspense made him want to descend and follow the others in. At least then he’d be useful. He’d do something good and helpful.

Then, all the lights went out. It wasn’t just Nightingale’s Rest that went dark, but also all nearby structures. EL-Four was sure that a spell was responsible. Chaos broke out within the building soon after. He heard weapons clash, spells fire, and people scream.

“Well, that’s a relief.” The clone sighed. Everyone hadn’t just walked into a trap and died. He had worried that there was a chance of something of the sort happening. El-Prime had discussed the possibility and tried to offer solutions, but only the people involved in the operation were included in the planning.

He imagined Big Mouth—the summoner who assisted during El-Prime’s Shadow Seeker entrance exam—assisted in trap detection. Apparently, his golems were good for more than just wildly attacking targets. They didn’t contain soul fragments, and their deaths posed no danger to Big Mouth. 

The Shadow Seekers likely had other means of getting by the arcane defences. Snake apparently had a long career of hunting and killing errant, criminal mages, and especially witches. His shard abilities and skill set made him nearly undetectable to their senses, allowing him to sneak in and take out dangerous spell-slinging targets. El-Prime desperately wished to see the man at work and learn his secrets. It wasn’t that he intended to embark on the same career, but rather to figure out defences against such assailants. They would likely pose the greatest threat.

El-Four channelled Shadow Sight while simultaneously using El-Prime’s newest sensory technique. Despite the stalker specialty and close link to shadow magic, using both spells simultaneously resulted in compounding mental strain. Things weren’t nearly as bad after Spell Weaver. The clones enjoyed the increased mental fortitude and gained the ability to sense spell threads, but lacked the ability to manipulate them. The clone was perfectly comfortable using two spells and the technique simultaneously. Since the ambient magic in the area was low, he still had to deal with a minor drain, but there was no strain.

The darkness ceased being as dark. El-Four saw hints of movement through the windows on the ground and first floor. The flashes were brighter, and he sensed the magic behind them as energy dispersed through the environment. Penelope and Esther’s hypothesis proved correct. There were multiple witches.

“One of the biggest threats when facing a coven isn’t just their ritual magic, but when they are in close proximity, they can pool their magic, firing more spells and empowering them,” Esther had explained when El-Prime asked about the archetype of magic users. “They are naturally good at group casting spells, sharing the burden. A more experienced witch can carry the burden of spellcasting while her apprentices or juniors provide the fuel.”

An explosion rocked the neighborhood. People from the other finer brothels flooded onto the street, watching the chaos. The smart few ran. A couple got struck by stray abilities and spells that escaped the window. Many retreated. Others seemed far too enchanted to take self-preservation into account. El-Four scanned the crowd, looking for any witches hiding among them. Shadow Sight and the sensory technique did their job. 

A shadowy figure escaped through a shattered first-floor window. It appeared somewhat bestial for a moment but metamorphosed into a woman in a flowing, body-hugging dress within moments of landing. As she straightened up, she didn’t look like the other workers of the red light district. The way she dressed, carried herself, and moved was considerably different. Much like the woman they had seen at the docks, everybody seemed to forget her within seconds of seeing her. But El-Four was outside the range of her ability, and he stayed that way as he followed.

The arcane signature radiating from the witch was weak. The clone couldn’t tell whether she was suppressing herself or the fight and transformations had drained her significantly. Either way, he didn’t want to risk it. El-Four ceased channeling Shadow Sight and the sensory technique, focusing all of his magical ability on Silencing Shadows. El-Prime and the other clones had focused significant effort on refining the spell and practising it ever since it failed. Now, the clone felt more confident wandering closer to the witch.

I’m sure she’s spent. 

The woman’s composure faded as she moved. Despite the chill, beads of sweat ran down her face and her bare neck. She was tired and probably terrified. So, El-Four pushed his luck, closing the distance between himself and the target. The progress was gradual. She seemed too focused on escape to go on the offensive or waste energy on much besides suppressing her own presence. Every now and again, the witch looked over her shoulder, looking for anyone trailing her. Her eyes only scanned the streets, ignoring the rooftops. 

El-Four waited until she stopped to catch her breath. The witch slumped in an alley. She sat on the ground, drew her knees in, and tucked her face into them before breaking down. Tears flowed as she sobbed loudly. Her fist banged the stone wall behind her. 

It was tempting to go for her straight away. But El-Four worried it was a trap. There was a chance she had detected him or another pursuer and was using a fake moment of vulnerability to draw them in. At the same time, it was possible she was having a genuine breakdown. The witch appeared young. She still had the cherubic cheeks of someone who had not long left their teenage years—or was still in them. As tears washed away her makeup, pimples, and acne scars became visible.

Esther said witches use magic to make themselves more beautiful. Either she is more inexperienced than I thought, or she is reverting to how she truly looks after overusing magic.

The clone made his move. He leaped from his perch and launched a right hook at the side of her head. The witch detected his approach, but was much too slow. Her hands lit up with violet flames, but the blow struck her lower jaw before she could use them, knocking her to the floor.

The Shadow Seekers unarmed combat trainers had drilled proper form and technique into El-Prime and the clones over the past months. It didn’t surprise El-Four when the witch tried to rise, but wobbled and fell on her face. He shaped Shade’s Mantle, extending a pair of twisted tethers and wrapping them around the woman, binding her arms and feet. Once he was sure of the bindings, the clone wrapped sashes over her mouth and eyes. The twisted chords solidified into steel but the rest of the bindings remained soft and pliable.