II-10 Stealth

—Confidential—

[Ambient Mana Recognized — Incoming Message from Master-Advisor Maxwell Oldsmith]

Blackedge still stands. The initial assault has been pushed back to the chasm. Our partners have been striking the town’s wards for the better part of the past two weeks, but their finest assets are unable to draw close due to the Town Lord’s deterrence. Despite Blackedge’s garrison taking catastrophic losses, their defenders somehow managed to withstand and keep the Vicar from fully breaching the town’s wards, offering Master Roland Arrow enough time to return and attune his soul with Starhawk Perch. Intelligence suggests that they have created a grand and temporary teleportation anchor at the center of the city.

Rationing has been instituted in town due to the bombings they’ve suffered in their critical food silos and other critical supplies. They are also utterly and completely enveloped. Despite this, the envelopment needs to maintain a considerable distance due to the threat of the Town Lord, with the closest units hiding within the chasm. Our “partner” has tried several more direct attacks, even one led by himself, but the losses they took were beyond horrific. To bring this dreadful affair to a conclusion, we are now trying to transport the final piece of the Vicar’s weapon to the surface. This way, Blackedge will finally fall, and Starhawk’s Perch will be disabled long enough for Roland Arrow to be subdued.

Our agents have also spatially intercepted various Slayer Teams mid-jump from the town. Most of them were dispatched to the capital bearing messages of warning and requests for aid. Many teams were eliminated and unable to be captured during their flight. However, we have secured two members from one group and are currently processing them for proper interrogation and eventual liquidation.

That being said, there have also been setbacks in our efforts: the captured Young Lord Adam Arrow and our agent are still missing. Latest reports suggest them to be in the Umbral Depths somewhere.  

Additionally, matters in Gate Theborn are growing increasingly unpredictable. An incident has occurred inside the gate that has stalled the final delivery of the weapon. Though the core is secure, what started as a master-tier brawl has become a greater state of emergency. The Gate Lord claims we have been infiltrated by an agent of New Albion, and so Gate Theborn is under critical lockdown.

Our partner will not be pleased about this. In fact, I, myself, am greatly displeased about being fixed in place. As such, I would humbly request that you direct a missive to the Lords of Law and implore them to apply the proper pressures on this Low Marshal Confriga to reopen the path to the surface.

The resolution to the problem of Blackedge, Roland Arrow, and his most heinous and illegal quest against our Republic depends on it.

Master-Advisor Maxwell Oldsmith

-Spell Sealed Sync-Letter Stolen from Inquisitor Szjik of the Twilight Republic

II-10

Stealth

"Do you guys really, really think he's still down here?" Siggy asked, doing everything she could to keep her terror in check. The goblin Pathbearer scanned her surroundings again with her Adept-Tier Visual Calculus Skill. She really didn’t know why they made someone like her come down here. 

Here she was, patrolling Cargo Containment Sector 42B3, in the absolute pitch-black darkness. What made things worse was the rest of her team—she didn’t much trust any of them to keep her ass alive if things went wrong. The dimensionals dispatched to support them she trusted even less because they answered directly to a psycho Necromancer Demon Gate Lord who was currently raging all over the city, demanding that every Pathbearer, demon, and guard under his command find the “New Albion Vermin.”

The New Albion Vermin that, according to some Pathbearers Siggy asked, managed to incinerate a small army of first responders and wound the Gate Lord after an already super destructive brawl with a Master-Tier orc.

Somehow, the Aviary spy survived his encounter with Confriga—which meant they were a High Master at the very least. 

Meanwhile, Siggy’s ass wasn’t even a High Adept yet. Her usual gigs were finding things people lost or spying for jealous lovers. She only picked up this merc stuff because she really wanted to save up and leave the Abyss after ten years of misery and madness.

Shows you just how smart I am, she chided herself. So much for making my escape faster. Walking around the dark here might just end with someone dragging a dagger across my neck and me dead…

“Get your shit together, Siggy,” the stocky human leading her current team sneered. He sneered a lot. “We don’t get paid to complain, we get paid to deliver. You wanna an easy job? Go pick up a trade or some shit. Of course, you’ll end up making piss and shit compared to a real Pathbearer. So keep those little ugly eyes open and tell me if you spot anything.”

“Sure thing, Hugo,” Siggy spat. She was technically supposed to call the fire mage boss or something, but he was an asshole, and she wasn’t big on respect. It was part of the reason she was down in the Abyss anyway: A lack of respect for the proper authorities leading to a very special warrant for her arrest.

In her defense, she really didn’t expect that noble bastard to drown chasing her.

The containers around them were stacked high and marked with fading paint. The dust here was practically to her ankles. Every now and again, she would see a group of dimensionals, demons, or another Pathbearer team pass by again, and that would make her feel better. But then they would be gone, and it would be her, Hugo, Coghell, and Lies.

Siggy looked at the other two members of her group and frowned. Coghell was a large automaton that made so much noise with every step that Siggy felt like she was walking alongside a marching band. Lies was an Umbral Jump Mage with more scars than personality. Siggy always found her creepy. Mainly because of how she had a habit of walking into the woods with a few select slaves while they were on caravan duty and coming back alone thereafter.

The goblin Pathbearer was no saint, but at least it was just a thing of business for her. The rest of everyone was incompetent, drunk, drunk, and incompetent, a total maniac, or just generally untrustworthy. And those were the types you wanted by your side while walking through the darkness, trying to find a missing spy that could trade punches with a Heroic Pathbearer.

“Is it just me, or has it been a while since we saw another group?” Siggy asked. The tension inside her was drawn taut. She needed another hit of reassurance by this point.

“It’s just you,” Hugo sneered. He lifted his heavy faceplate and took a sip of liquor. “Godsdammit, Siggy, if I knew you were going to be such a pussy, I would—”

“Whoa, stop!” Siggy said. Her eyes caught something. Something the rest of the group missed. “There.” She pointed at the edge of a cargo container. “Get some light on that.”

The fire mage sent a hovering torch of flame to light the edge of the container. There, he saw what she indicated: A bloody handprint.

“Taint my ass,” Hugo breathed. “Never felling mind. You’re still a pussy, Siggy, but you got nice eyes. Good catch.” He licked his lips and examined the handprint closely. “I guess the Gate Lord hurt him plenty bad. Bad enough we might be able to finish the job.”

That was another thing Siggy didn’t like about Hugo—he was someone she regarded as a hyper-optimist. The breed of idiot that got himself and everyone he led killed against something they shouldn’t be fighting at all. “Maybe we should get back to the checkpoint and inform the rest of the patrols?”

Hugo scoffed. “And screw ourselves out of a sweet, sweet bonus. Taint that. We find this bastard ourselves, and then drinks are on me at Little Gomorrah.”

“Closed right now,” Lies whispered. The damned creepy Umbral started giggling. “Saw them burst in earlier. I saw them blast in through the ceiling. A man armored in bone and an orc fighting. It was bloody. So much vibrant red.”

Siggy blinked. “Wait, you saw him? The spy?”

The Umbral kept laughing to herself. “Yes. So much rage in him. He kept fighting. Like he didn’t know anything else.”

“Shit! Godsdammit! Lies, why didn’t you tell us this shit earlier?” Hugo glared at the Umbral.

“Because I didn’t want to,” Lies said.

The fire mage just growled.

Suddenly, a shriek pierced the air. This was followed by a series of deafening and heavy impacts. The ground shook. Something knocked a container aside, sending it screaming across the ruined concrete. Siggy was clenching her shortsword so tight she felt like she was about to crush the handle.

“Alright!” Hugo said. “The fish’s been hooked. Let’s go get the tainted rot-cock!”

He took off in a rush, and Siggy followed the group despite herself. There was only one thing worse than being in the dark with people she didn’t trust, and that was being in the dark entirely alone.

When they got to the source of the noise, Hugo twisted around a cargo container with a fire spell crackling in his left hand. Then, just as he prepared to unleash hell, his eyes widened, and he froze. Then, Hugo did something Siggy never saw him do.

He doubled over and gagged. A second later, his visor was lifted, and he was emptying the contents of his lunch onto the ground. The rest of the group learned why as they saw what he did. A scene of nightmarish carnage stood before Siggy. A dozen meters away, two containers had been slammed together—with an entire group caught between them. The remnants of their bodies were squeezed out from the edges of the container like paste. A twitching mechanical limb flopped like a dead fish upon a puddle of blood.

But that was only the beginning.

Beyond the containers was a slaughterhouse. The ground was cracked and destroyed. Several more cargo boxes were broken or dented. And dozens of bodies were pasted against the ground, spread out in smears of gore. Organic, mechanical, and dimensional corpses were caked against the shattered concrete as if they had been stomped flat by a giant's boot.

Nearby, blood and viscera coated the underside of a badly dented metal box.

“Oh, Broken Moon, oh shit, oh taint me, oh shit,” Siggy began to wheeze. Her heart was going faster and faster. She was… she needed to.

“Help!” A voice cried around another corner. Hugo looked up and had to fold back over to retch a final time. “Please. Help me… Someone…”

The cries were deep and desperate, and a trail of blood led behind another set of containers. Hugo growled as he summoned a massive torch of fire over them. “Let’s—let’s go see who that is. Siggy, on point!”

Siggy stared at him in disbelief. “What?”

He grabbed and shoved her forward. Siggy’s legs started shaking, and she nearly sprawled as the mage booted her forward. She wanted to turn and glare at Hugo, but she just kept her eyes opened and peeled. In case the spy was out there, watching her in the dark. Siggy could hear Hugo’s breathing, could hear the mechanical whine of Coghell’s joints, and even Lies was muttering something to herself.

Oh, shit, oh gods, oh system please…

Preparing herself, she rounded the corner with her shortsword raised. Only to find a badly injured man laying against a container. He looked like an elf—though his face was covered in so much blood she couldn’t be sure. His armor was like nightglass wrapped around by an enchanted gambeson or something, but even that was ripped up. His left arm looked pretty messed up too. Burned, even. But Siggy never quite recalled seeing burns like that on someone’s body.

“Hey, hey!” Hugo said, shoving Siggy aside. He knelt down beside the wounded elf and shook them. Because Hugo was an asshole and did asshole things as the first resort. The elf moaned in pain, but Hugo didn’t care. “Did you see him? The one that hit you? Did you see where he went? How fast was he? What do you think his Tier is?”

The elf whimpered. “Too fast for us. He’s going to be… too fast for you too.”

Hugo snarled. “Yeah, we’ll felling see about that.” A fire spell took shape over his head as he began summoning a dimensional. “Alright. Siggy, Lies! I need you two—”

“Wait! Look!” The wounded elf said, pointing up at the top of a nearby container. “There! He’s—he’s—”

Siggy turned first, a scream of terror leaving her lips as she prepared to face the monster with just a shortsword. But as she gazed up where the wounded elf was pointing, she saw no one. She saw nothing at all. Then, a splash of hot, coppery wetness covered her face. Siggy blinked and yelped. She stumbled back, swinging her sword blindly, but lost her footing and fell on her ass. Wiping a hand across her face, she realized what just blinded her was blood, and her heart started going fast, it felt like it was going to rip out of her chest.

Then, something feel next to her. Someone. Siggy’s mind was blank as she realized she was staring at Hugo. His eyes were open but unblinking, and he had a look of absolute confusion on his face. His armor was mostly intact, but there was a gaping wound through his chest that gushed out gallons of blood. And his heart… where was his heart?

“Let go! Let go!” Lies shrieked. The Umbral was kicking and stabbing at the wounded elf. Her nightglass dagger speared straight into his right eye—and the dagger snapped. The wounded elf didn’t react immediately. He just stared at Lies’s face for a while longer, as if contemplating something, and then he spoke. “Yeah, Uva’s right. I don’t think I got the chops to pull off being a woman.”

Siggy didn’t understand. Her dread and confusion only grew as Lies suddenly gripped her chest, and then she went limp. The elf chucked her aside too. Siggy was about to start calling for Coghell, but a sparking sound made her look up, and she saw the smoking remnants of an automaton flattened against the ceiling. Components began to rain down. Bolts, screws, and other parts that used to make up a mechanical life form. A second after, Coghell fell, and it broke apart just a meter away from where Hugo lay.

And now, Siggy was the only one left. The only one other than the elf. The spy. The monster.

Slowly, she looked up at him, and her breath hitched as a swirl of ash and fire lifted off his body, revealing his true form. A skeletal nightmare loomed over her. Behind him, a cloak of midnight black held together by faint threads of glistening silk fluttered, blending partially into the dark ambience. The figure stood tall, if judged by the standards of a human. He was huge, too, built more like that newborn orc Siggy killed that one time. The bones armoring the figure’s exterior had a metallic sheen to it, and Siggy saw small grids of armor lining the surface with her Visual Calculus. Numbers flowed through her mind. The thing standing before her was probably just a bit over two meters tall, but the way the ground was starting to crack beneath him made her guess he carried over a ton of mass.

Then, suddenly, the cracks stopped, and her skill was confused. He was back to being maybe around two hundred kilograms or so. Massive for a human.

And then she saw his eyes. Pools of black dotted with irises of gleaming white. And he was studying her too, looking at her face, holding a dagger of metallic bone in his right hand. His left, though, hung a bit limp by his side. Her Visual Calculus screamed at her, telling her that he was injured there, that she should target the limb. But she ignored the skill, because she was doing everything she could not to shit and piss herself.

“Well,” the monster said, his voice sounding surprisingly… normal. A bit deep, but normal. “I guess it’s just you and me on this floor, now. That took a while.” Siggy tried to talk. She made a low whine instead. “Please don’t scream. There’s no one else left. Not on this floor. Or the one below it.” He gave a bitter, tired chuckle. “Would you believe I tried to do this quietly? I tried to slip out? Ah. I’m not really cut out for this spy or infiltrator stuff. Even with an Adept-Evolution Stealth Skill. So. I’m going to ask you a few questions, and you’re going to answer. Does that sound good?”

Siggy failed. She really tried her best, but she couldn’t help herself. It was all too much. She whispered to the monster, trying not to cry.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“I… I shit myself,” She admitted, her lip quivering.

“Ah,” he said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “Uh. I think there was another goblin I killed earlier—wait, here.” A flash of crimson mana pulsed along his wounded arm. A Biomancy spell took shape, and with a gesture, he tossed a new corpse beside Siggy. It was, indeed, a dead goblin, as the figure claimed. A goblin with his skull caved in, and judging from the smell.

Siggy swallowed. “I… uh, I think I’ll keep my pants.”

“Why?” the monster said. “Just take his. It’s only his head that’s been destroyed.”

“Yeah, but… I think he shit and pissed himself too.”

The monster looked at her, glaring at her with those savage, white irises. Siggy prepared to die, begged the system and all the gods to give her another chance. Then, the monster sighed. “Shit. Right. People do that when they die. Sorry about that.”

***

Knife Proficiency > 38

Grappling Proficiency > 48

Intimidation > 45

Stealth > 32

Acting > 11

Shiv felt like an idiot. In his defense, though, he was still suffering from a constant, searing pain in his left arm. A pain that lingered while he was a Revenant and even after a few resurrections. A scar was imprinted on his arm—a scar that resembled the faces of three screaming children, if the whole pain thing wasn’t bad enough.

At least it feels like it’s getting better, Shiv thought. He couldn’t even move his left hand earlier. Now, he was capable of using it to shape spells again. It still hurt like a bastard, but pain was an experience he was used to.

It took him the better part of two hours to finally make his way out of the maintenance tunnels in the building. He figured out he was in some kind of long-term cargo storage or impound. Most of the containers here were covered in a thick layer of dust. The absence of rats also told him there were likely no foodstuffs to consume either.

Umbral Shadowalker kept him from being noticed immediately when the hunting parties came. But it was still an Adept-Skill, and more than a few of his adversaries had his Stealth beat by their Awareness. Unfortunately for them, finding Shiv was the easy part of the job. And he adapted to his enemies as well. After slaughtering the first group that found him, he ended up taking on a new Perfect Semblance and applying what he liked to call aggressive stealth tactics to the situation. Mostly, he would lure several groups between containers by misdirecting them, and while they were confused or searching, he would slam the containers together. Then, he would take on a new Perfect Semblance to keep things confusing, and then repeat the process with the survivors.

It worked out pretty great, all things considered. Really spiked his Acting and Stealth. But those skills paled before Intimidation—which was quickly becoming a double-edged sword for Shiv. It made people stop, made their morale break, and damaged their focus when Shiv was around, but it also made them go into shock, too.

Like what this goblin was doing.

Shiv gave her a moment to rinse out the accident staining her pants while he burned the fire mage leading her team, taking him as a new Perfect Semblance. Hugo Vetti. And… oh, this is useful. I’ve been looking for a skill like this.

Steal Advanced-Tier Skill [½] (Polyglot)

Polyglot 25 (Advanced)

A searing sensation rushed through Shiv’s mind as he recalled years spent learning various languages—mostly towards the end of seducing women and men at various bars or reading diaries looted off enemy soldiers across various battlefields. As a result, Shiv’s language capabilities increased. Not substantially. The fire mage wasn’t a serious learner, but it was better than illiteracy.

As the flames reshaped Shiv’s body, he found himself in the guise of the fire mage. Thankfully, this one was wearing heavy armor, but his left arm still looked a bit damaged. It was strange, like Perfect Semblance could mask everything about his original self—but it had to keep some part of his injuries.

Guessing the wound might be soul-deep. Broken Moon, I’m not letting that Gate Lord asshole hit me with a whip again. Even if it does spike my Vitality Drain and Revenant. If he got me in the head… I don’t know, maybe I might be dead for good.

Shiv noticed the goblin staring at him. Her greaves were back on, and she was back on her very shaky feet. She was a short figure, even for a goblin. A thickly-coiled ponytail extended out from a port built into her open-faced helmet. The rest of her armor was decent quality steel, but to Shiv she might as well have been wearing glass. Hells, she might as well be made of glass.

He only encountered one Master-Tier enemy in this place so far, and she was a Master-Tier at Awareness and Magical Resistance, but not Toughness. As a result, she managed to track him down pretty quick after he ambushed and slaughtered a group of wolf-headed dimensionals. Her reward for being so astute was Shiv pinning her against a container and driving a bone dagger through her eye. 

Adamantine could sink through Adept-Tier flesh pretty quick.

“So…” the goblin said, swallowing constantly. She looked him up and down now that he was pretending to be her former comrade. He wondered if that was going to be an issue. “I—I, uh—”

“I’m thinking,” Shiv said, watching her face. She nodded.

“Sure. Take as long as you need.” The goblin nodded hard.

Yeah, sparing this one was a good idea. I was trying to find an opportunity to get myself a hostage-guide. I might be able to read some of the words now, but I still need to know my way around this place.

“What’s your name?” Shiv started.

“Siggy,” she said. “No last name.”

“Well. Siggy. We are both in a predicament. I think you understand that.”

“I won’t tell anyone—”

He stared flatly at her. “Really?”

She fell silent. “Are you going to kill me?”

“Not sure about that yet. You a slaver?”

“Not exactly?”

“That doesn’t sound like a no, Siggy.”

“I just do some transportation jobs sometimes. It’s business.”

“Well. That makes killing you people pleasure for me.” Shiv growled. Siggy shivered. “You wanna know something? This mess started because you people were bastards. I hate it. I hate looking at the slaves, I hate what you’re doing and who you are.”

“I was just trying to make some mithril, man,” Siggy whimpered. “I was going to be done.”

“Yeah. And the slaves?”

“I—” Siggy was shaking. Shiv could almost feel the Intimidation bleeding out of his body, like a tangible aura.

Don’t know what that’s going to be like when it becomes Adept. But I am looking forward to it.

“You’re scum,” Shiv said, simply. His rage flattened to his default state—which was pretty hateful when it came to slavers. “But lucky for you, I got an offer for you. Right now, I can feel your heart. I am a Biomancer—and not a very good one. But plenty good at killing. Do you understand?”

It took her a second, but she nodded. “Y-yes?”

“Alright. If something goes wrong, your heart might suddenly fail. To avoid that, you’re going to lead me out of this place and take me to the Twilight Republic’s Consulate.”

“The Republic? Huh? Why?”

“Because I want to go there,” Shiv said. “And because asking more questions will result in heart failure.”

Her mouth slammed shut. She nodded. “I’ll get you there immediately. On the double. I know—I know the receptionist there. I got good—”

“Good. Better. You stay close to me. You lead me out. And at the end… you might just live. I don’t much like your kind, but I think I’ve dealt enough sloppy death out for today. To too many people who didn’t deserve it either.” Shiv thought back to his brawl with 811 and sighed. “So. You can make yourself a very lucky Pathbearer, and I can find it in myself to offer a little mercy. Does that sound good?”

“It sounds… like the best thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” Siggy choked.

“Alright, then, Siggy. Get me out of here. And remember—every beat of your heart depends on it.” A tear fell from her eye. Shiv sighed. “We move once you’re done crying.”

Siggy nodded—and then immediately started bawling out of stress and terror.

Intimidation > 46

***

I probably should have taken a guide-hostage earlier, Shiv thought as the elevator ascended. He held his ribs and maintained a traumatized look, trying to act the part of a Pathbearer that had witnessed unspeakable horrors rather than the one that enacted them. Beside him, Siggy wasn’t acting. She was sniffled and shaking. Someone had given her a blanket as they got through the checkpoint. She did the bulk of the speaking, telling the small group of Pathbearers and dimensionals guarding the elevator about the slaughter they just survived—she also added that the spy was wounded, but they needed more manpower.

And so, as a small army of hunters descended, Shiv and his new “friend” went up. She glanced at him every few seconds. Her heart was constantly thundering, and her body was reacting all kinds of complex ways he didn’t fully understand. Ekkihurst said stuff about cortisol and adrenaline and hormones. Lots of chemicals. Lots of reactions. Shiv needed to review those chapters more if he wanted to fully grasp all the little details. However, the most important one was how vulnerable a person’s heart was, and right then, Siggy understood that lesson better than Shiv.

As the doors opened, a familiar figure approached. Shiv tensed as he thought he was looking at Confriga, only to see that they had a different skin tone and far fewer head tentacles. Also, they were smaller than the Gate Lord, and leading an accompaniment of automata with them.

“Well met,” the demonic being said. This one also sounded female, and her vertical lips barely moved as she spoke. “I have received reports of the spy being contained? Is this true?”

Shiv just stared. He prodded Siggy from behind.

“Ah! Y-yeah! B-but it’s bad down there. He’s—we’re the only two survivors across several floors. He’s killed everyone else. And he is injured. The others are going after him but—”

“I understand,” the demon nodded. “You have served the Gate Lord and your contracts well.” She looked at their bloody, miserable forms and waved for the automata to enter the elevator. Each one of the bots were holding huge crystal staffs in one hand and carrying torches in the other. “Go see treatment, if you require it. Should the spy be captured, I will ensure bonuses for both of you.”

“T-thanks,” Siggy said. Again, it wasn’t hard for her to fake trauma and terror. Not when the shape of her nightmares was standing just beside her.

As they got off, the demon and her fire magi team got on. She eyed Shiv one final time as he made for the front door with Siggy.

Foreshadowing: She was but twelve years old when she watched High Captain Confriga murder her clutch brother in a duel. It was an absurd thing to witness—a duel between a mature warrior in Lord Scorn’s army and a boy who only recently stopped being a tadpole.

Their siress had begged, but Confriga wouldn’t accept it. The boy had dirtied his cape. And so the boy had to be punished. Murder was illegal and peasants weren’t allowed to duel. So her clutch brother was marked as an ascended noble and loaned a blade.

The fight lasted less than a second. The torture went considerably longer.

After the fight was over, Confriga took her brother as an effigy—and she wasn’t even allowed to keep his body.

That had been a full century ago. Now, she was finally close. After burning her old name, her old identity, she is finally close…

Foreshadowing > 21

“The world is just full of godsdamned bullshit,” Shiv chuckled.

“What?” Siggy said.

“Nothing. Consulate. Walk. Good job.”

The goblin nodded. And did as he asked.

The streets and bridges were devoid of people now. Floating-eyes drifted above—dimensionals that projected their mind magic at various people and corners, scanning for anything out of place. As one turned to gaze upon them, Shiv tensed. He had a Mind Shield, but Siggy—

She held up a stack of bills, waving it. The floating eye blinked and then looked away.

“What’s that?” Shiv asked.

“Bribery,” Siggy said. “I know that one. Their name is Floats On Honestly. They’re kind of a greasy shitbag but… they’re greedy. I smuggle some contraband through the gate sometimes, and I give them a cut. They probably think I stole something from a container or whatever.”

Shiv grunted a laugh. “Nice job. You’re really looking out for your heart.”

“Doing my best,” Siggy whimpered.

The Yellowstone Republic Consulate turned out to be pretty far away. After a good deal more walking and a few words exchanged with a Pathbearer team that recognized Siggy, Shiv found himself staring at a large building in the shape of a black oval. It had a chain connecting its summit to the sun as well. Shiv still didn’t know what that was all about.

As Siggy let him inside, they passed through a series of wards, and a brief alarm went off. An armored guard approached. Shiv balled his fists—only to relax as the guard let out a dismissive snort.

“Siggy? What are you doing here?”

“Mira,” was all Siggy said.

“Really? You want to sell her some Drift now.”

“Yeah. Easier to do when half the city’s on lockdown and there’s no one else watching.”

The guard sighed. And then looked at Shiv. “Why’s he with you this time?”

“Debt. Drinking. Whores.” Siggy shrugged.

The guard laughed. “Now there’s an old song. Well. Welcome to the business.”

Shiv didn’t quite understand what just happened. As Siggy got them into a new elevator, the guard swiped a crystal of some kind over the controls and tapped an icon. A few seconds later, they were going up.

“What just happened?” Shiv asked. “What’s Drift?”

“Serious?” Siggy asked.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“It’s a drug. It makes you have really nice dreams.”

“You’re a godsdamned drug dealer too?” Shiv hissed. “Is there anything terrible you don’t do?’

Siggy stared at him. “You… tore a bunch of people apart. Mangled them… This bothers you?”

Shiv stared at her. “Yeah. It kind of does. I’ve seen what that does to people. Especially the ones who don’t have much to begin with.” The streets of Blackedge held more dangers than the obvious. There were dealers everywhere. And there were the poor and vulnerable. “First person I ever killed was a dealer. He was a goblin too.”

Siggy started shaking again. She kept shaking all the way to the front doors of the consulate.

As the entered, Shiv found himself staring into a luxurious space drenched in pleasant flavors, with nice and warm floorboards, and a row of cushioned seats for people to use while waiting. A single woman manned reception, and Shiv noticed she had a bit of Psychomancy—about comparable to his right now. She wore a navy blue hat to go with her extremely form-fitting dress. It suited her dark, auburn hair, sapphire eyes, and red lips well.

“Good afternoon, but I’m afraid—Siggy?” the secretary blinked.

“Hey, Mira,” Siggy said, swallowing. “Listen—”

Shiv looked around. He didn’t see anything or anyone. No other mana fields either. He was tired of this stealth shit, too. He reached across the desk and snatched the secretary off her feet. He clamped his hand around her mouth as she tried to scream and snarled for Siggy to watch the door—and mind her heart if she tries to run.

“Listen,” Shiv said, speaking to the secretary with the voice of a tired, angry man who had killed too many people and gone too long without cooking. “I have an appointment with Master-Advisor Maxwell Oldsmith. I’m probably not on the calendar—but I’m about to be. Either you put me on, or I’ll find a way to do it myself. Do you understand?” Mira’s eyes widened in absolute terror, and then she nodded. “Good. I don’t think you’re an Adept in Toughness—maybe not even Advanced. Scream, resist, run, or use your mind magic on me, and I’ll pull your head off and show you your body from a new angle before you die? Got it?”

He didn’t actually mean that with her. As far as he knew, the secretary didn’t do anything that deserved death. But he needed her quiet and compliant until he got what he wanted, and right now, Intimidation was his best tool.

It was also… too good of a tool.

Mira blinked twice and then, her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Shiv blinked. The secretary was out cold.

“Oh, shit, oh felling shit, oh tainted felling shit!” Siggy said, clutching her head. “Is she dead? Did you kill her? Is she—”

“She just passed out,” Shiv muttered. “She’ll be fine.”

And then, from around the corner, a voice came. A voice Shiv recognized as the automaton that was beating the child slave earlier. “Mira? Mira? Did the new servant arrive? Has this one brought the right pair of gloves this time?”

Shiv growled as red crept around the corners of his vision. “But the Master-Advisor won’t be.” He picked Mira up and advanced with her like she was a shield. As he dipped her head over the corner, he heard the Master-Advisor speak again. “Ah. Mira. There you are! Wait—why are you like that? Mira?”

Shiv pulled the secretary away from the corner and waited. He listened to the sounds of the Master-Advisor’s limbs whirring as he approached. No one in the consulate today, it seems. Probably somewhere else because of the lockdown. Looks like I finally caught another lucky break.

“Mira—”

Shiv grabbed the automaton by the head as soon as they appeared. As the machine tried to struggle, Shiv lightly bounced their head off the wall once and called for Siggy to catch. He chucked Mira at her, and he heard both women go down in a heap.

“What is the meaning—” Master-Advisor Maxwell Oldsmith stopped talking as Shiv dismissed his Perfect Semblance. Shiv saw his skull-helmet reflected in the automaton’s visor. “O-oh, B-broken M-m-m—”

“Hello, Oldsmith,” Shiv said. “We met earlier. But you might not remember me. Not with this face. But you were beating a child earlier. He’s dead now. And unless I’m very, very satisfied with the conversation we’re about to have, you will be too.”

Silver Tongue > 6

Intimidation > 47