Chương 22: 21 The Auditor

<<Name: Brand Firvald>> <<Race: Cind-Primord>> <<Class: Auditor>> <<Rank: Bloodwake Exploit>> <<Lvl: Mage-10; User-8; Martial-7>> <<Total: 25>> <<Stats: >> Might (STR) — 09 Will (WIS) — 12 Focus (INT) — 16 Resilience (CON) — 10 Grace (DEX) — 13 Cunning (CHA) — 16 My finger tapped the armrest of the basalt throne, nail sending a satisfying click through the vacant throne room. Rats. Vermin. Parasites. I had one job: to find the leeches that sucked the marrow from the bones of Bloodwake society.

Tap, tap, tap— My blue finger arched back before striking sharply, like the hammer on a pistol. I shifted, crossing my legs and leaning back. Superheated cracks in the throne warmed me. Aside from that, the room was cold. Braziers remained empty, torches unlit. The only other light spilled from the tall windows. So this was the fabled Obsidian Tower of Obcity? I was impressed. The only real question was—did the ruler fit the chair? Outside the double doors, muffled voices rose in argument.

I slumped further into the throne that was far too large for me. Best to be comfortable when we met, face to face. The door slammed open, and Sultan Azhar Al-Harraq stormed in. A flustered, purple-skinned Primord in an officer's uniform rushed to catch up. My terminal flashed in the air, hovering in front of my eyes.

<<Name: Azhar Al-Harraq>> <<Race: Efreet>> <<Class: None>> <<Rank: Sultan-Bloodwake Ash Lord>> <<Lvl: None>> <<Total: Not Synced to Oruabora>> <<Equivalent Level: Martial-6; Mage-11; Physic: 5>> <<Stats: >> Might (STR) — 14 Will (WIS) — 17 Focus (INT) — 12 Resilience (CON) — 14 Grace (DEX) — 09 Cunning (CHA) — 09"Unacceptable!" The Sultan snarled. The Efreet towered over the officer. A disk of wavering heat waves hung behind his head like a halo, occasionally sputtering into flames.

"If they don't want to show themselves, smoke them out—" The Sultan stopped when he found the throne room choked in shadow. My finger tapped.

"What, the slaves can't keep this place lit?" He demanded and snapped his fingers. Every brazier and torch in the chamber flashed, hot light igniting across the walls. He saw me sitting on his throne and flinched. Then his brow furrowed, heat and ash wafting off his crimson, leathery skin.

"You, Dare!" He started forward, a blade of flame flaring into existence in his grip. The officer cringed away, and I raised an amused brow as he stomped in my direction, leaving flaming tracks. I let him make it halfway across the throne room before I swung the brass seal, dangling on its chain. The Sultan's body locked when he saw the badge of authority. His eyes went wide as he stared at the brass disk. Muscles across his shoulders rippled.

"Auditor," he growled, voice low. The rage continued to smolder in his eyes, but he stepped back. He waved his hand, and the flame blade burned away.

"I didn't know what you were," he murmured, eye twitching.

"I thought a lower being was sitting on my throne." I didn't respond right away. Rats—silence had a way of making the guilty squirm.

"And you were going to destroy me," I said, leaning forward.

"Which would be well within your rights." I let the seal swing.

"Only I have this, and now you know better. I'll tolerate no more petulance—your majesty." The disk of distorted heat waves behind his hair flared into actual flames, and ash drifted from his shoulders.

"You have a warrant?" I dropped the seal, allowing it to hang from the tether on my sash. The warrant blinked into my hand, conjured from my inventory.

"Sultan Azhar Al-Harraq, by the authority of the Ash Lords, and sanctioned by the Bloodwake Tyrant, I've been summoned to investigate the disappearance of forty tons of orange steel—""I took care of it," he interrupted. I stopped mid-sentence, my head tilting. I took a slow breath and rose. The warrant vanished back into my inventory.

"I see you don't care to listen to the charges, so I'll address you directly. You took care of it? Please."

"I reclaimed the stolen cargo," he growled.

"Stolen cargo?" I scoffed.

"A barrel of magma eels is stolen cargo. Forty tons of elemental steel? That's a scandal." I started down the steps.

"You took care of it? So where are the thieves? Which cell can I visit to conduct an interrogation?"

"The cowards fled—""Enough!" I snarled, casting Greater Cinder Censure. The flames in the braziers flared, flashing blue and washing the room in scalding heat. Sultan Al-Harraq went silent, but glared with glowing ember eyes.

"The cowards who sank a Blazing Juggernaut? The cowards who killed your customs warden? Tell me, Your Majesty, do you truly believe you handled it?" Sultan Al-Harraq seethed without response.

"Can you even tell me who had the audacity to steal from you?" The Efreet's nose wrinkled.

"We're investigating." I stopped before him, head tipped up to meet his eyes. I scoffed. Had it come from anyone else, I knew he would have incinerated them on the spot. But I wasn't someone else. So he tolerated it.

"Investigating, he says." I rubbed my temples.

"Let me walk you through the first step. Who would want orange steel, a sanctioned material that would offer protection against our greatest weapons?" His jaw worked. No answer came. Was my voice patronizing? Very. What point was power if you didn't flaunt it? My fingers snapped.

"Oh, I know!" I said, overemphasizing each word as if explaining to a child.

"Maybe it's Paradise—our greatest enemy. And they sank a ship with magic?" I started walking around the Efreet, who stood rooted in place.

"Your Grace, you have Cousins sailing your waters. Krathic-Thar would be very interested in getting them."

"I have patrols," he said.

"Hmm," I smirked.

"But what you need is an exploit. An Auditor. Me." He let out a low breath that rumbled more like a growl.

"There's no way they did this alone," I said, clasping my hands behind my back.

"They had an insider. I'll require all ledgers, all records. I'll find your rat. Then, they'll lead me to my Cousins." Sultan Al-Harraq shifted.

"Forge, get the auditor anything he requires." The officer snapped to attention.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"But first," I said, finally stepping out of the Efreet's space, "I want to speak to the witness."

"We have many sailors who gave chase," the officer offered helpfully.

"I'll arrange an interview."

"Not them," I said.

"Someone who saw them up close." The officer blinked in confusion.

"Sir. Customs Warden Azhak perished with the Juggernaut. None of the initial patrols survived."

"Oh, but that's not true," I said, clasping my hands before me.

"Did he not have a pet? A Tephrite?"

"Sir?" the officer asked, frowning in confusion.

"The animal?"

"Fetch it," I ordered.

"It'll be more useful than anyone else." The officer saluted.

"I'll have it brought to you." I nodded to him, and he dismissed himself to carry out my order. I shifted back to the Sultan, a smile creasing my lips.

"Cheer up, Your Majesty. We get to go Cousin Hunting." The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. I leaned against the bulwark of the La Cuenta Rota, Captain Snapfist's ship. A leviathan rib ran the length of each side of the hull. Old remains of an ancient species that hadn't existed within the World Archipelago for as long as history could remember. I opened my messages. <<Unread Message: >> <<Uncle Lance Coralfin: Hey Tony, haven't heard from you, just wanted to check in.

How's the operation? Anything I can help with? >> I opened my reply. <<Tony: Hey, Lance, sorry. Didn't figure out the messaging feature. Had some bad luck, we're adapting, but it's complicated>> I hesitated, considering whether it'd be wise to include mission details. Exploits and hackers could feasibly strip information from another user's terminal. Best to keep things vague. I sent it off. After a moment's thought, I opened a follow-up message. <<Tony: Any luck with Puppetmaster?

>> Orcs loaded cargo on the deck behind me. I waited, pretending to enjoy the scenery while really focusing on the display. <<Unread Message: >> I exhaled sharply, opening it immediately. <<Uncle Lance Coralfin: Tony, good to hear from you. Remember your training and be careful. I'm just a message away>> A follow-up message pinged at the bottom of that one. <<Uncle Lance Coralfin: No luck on Puppetmaster. He's moving a lot. Like your quest, it's complicated. Let you know if I find something solid.

>> <<Uncle Lance Coralfin: Will over blood. I am deliberate. I choose who I am>> I smiled at the mantra he had helped me compose. A reminder that I had a choice despite my deviant bloodline. I wasn't the only one who used it. Diago, my classmate, also leaned on the meditation to navigate his more Orcish tendencies. I opened another menu, scrolling through the list of users until I found Diago's profile. I started a new message. <<Tony: Hey duuuuuuude! How's Escort Duty? >> <<Diago Quickboot: Broooo, you're alive?

Got our principal to Paradise Rock. Assassins everywhere! It was crazy. I leveled up! We're scouting for some ruins the Wake is interested in next! >> The snake writhed within, a tickle of nausea wiping my smile away. Diago had leveled up? My thumb rubbed my forefinger in circles. Apex Pride stirred. No. I was deliberate. Will over blood. I sent a final reply. <<Tony: Good for you, man! We messed up. Going in for a second try>> A new message hit the inbox. <<Bianca Romano: Stop spamming the chat.

These guys don't know we're cousins, and you're obviously interfacing with a HUD. >> I blushed, glancing across the deck, where she waved at me. A pair of Orcs grunted as they hauled a barrel up the gangplank. She held eye contact. I glanced away. Since the boneyard, she'd been easier around me. She'd asked me to teach her how to shoot our new guns. I'd agreed, of course, but when she looked at me, I felt like she found me lacking. I shook my head. She wasn't judging me. I was.

"Tony, Bianca!" Velk called from the quarterdeck.

"Another round!"

"Again?" I grumbled, but I headed for the steps. The La Cuenta Rota was worn, but well-maintained for an Orc ship. Scars marred the deck, which had been sanded and lacquered. Bianca waited for me and followed behind. I tensed, my teeth grinding as I forced myself to focus on the mission. Velk's map lay spread out across a barrel, a blueprint of the obsidian tower provided by Queen Al-Harraq. What kind of wife hires thieves to rob her husband? What kind of husband has chambers that his wife couldn't access?

I'd never understand Ash Lords.

"Alright," Velk said, gathering the map and folding it.

"Without looking. Tell me again." I sighed.

"From the front door, take the slaves' stairs to the Sultan's higher chambers."

"Which floor specifically?" Velk asked, shielding his eyes from the sun. Bianca pursed her lips.

"They start on the forty-fifth floor, but the lamps in his collection room are on the forty-ninth."

"That's a lot of floors," I murmured.

"I didn't know they could build that high."

"It's amazing what you can accomplish on the backs of ten generations of slaves," Velk said.

"They're tall floors too. Efreet are big." I stroked my chin, nodding.

"Alright, Queen Al-Harraq gives you to the Sultan on the higher floors. How to get to the lamp from the throne room?"

"Northern servants' corridor up the stairs—" Bianca started.

"How many stairs?" Velk demanded. I grumbled.

"Seventy-eight, then right, and another corridor." My memory wasn't actually that good; I was cheating. With my terminal still up, I'd synced his hand-drawn sketch with my maps.

"Or we can take the lift in a hurry," Bianca offered.

"Probably the maintenance one."

"Security?" Velk asked.

"Sentinel torches," I said.

"Any torch will roast us, but not on its own. An authorized user can bend the flames, but they'd need to see us."

"What else?" I read my notes while trying not to look like I was reading the air.

"Two roving guards in the upper corridor, then two stationed guards at the collection room. The door's locked and trapped." I hesitated.

"So how do we get in?"

"The Sultan gives his collection slaves access to that room," Velk said.

"Just don't try the door until after you're branded."

"I'm sorry, did you say branded?" My arms folded tightly across my chest.

"That's right. An arcane brand. It should mark you as an authorized resident." I swallowed.

"Oh."

"Now, when you get in, what security will you find?" Velk asked, pinching the corner of the map.

"Four suits of armor that will animate with primordial spirits if the alarm is triggered," Bianca said.

"Don't waste your time with them," Velk warned.

"They're slow, but they're practically indestructible. Grab the lamp and get out." I shifted uncomfortably.

"About that, can we discuss the escape plan?"

"What about it?" Velk asked.

"I'm not keen on jumping out of a forty-ninth-floor window," I said.

"Grab one of his carpets and fly it down," Velk said, rolling his eyes as if my concern weren't the most natural thing in the whole world.

"The queen assured us he's got at least eight rolled up near the window."

"I'm sorry, is this before or after ignoring the four indestructible, super-heated constructs?"

"Don't forget the guards, locks, traps, and flamethrower torches," Bianca added helpfully. I pointed at her.

"That too." Velk rubbed his temple and let out a sigh.

"Just remember, the bigger the carpet, the easier it is to fly."

"And the slower," Bianca said.

"I can't help but feel they're not going to just let us float away. What about the other seven carpets?"

"I don't know, dump 'em out the window," Velk grumbled, rolling his emerald green Derk-Feykin eyes.

"Once again, what about the four armored fire golems?" I asked, irritation biting.

"They take a minute to power on," Velk said.

"Look, I hate to point this out, but you're kind of being a baby about this."

"A baby—" the air hissed through my lungs as indignation gut punched me.

"I—" I held up my hands.

"You know what? No, this is ridiculous. Let's go back to the drawing board. If the queen can get us in, she can get us out."

"Sure," Velk said.

"Tell an Efreet queen you need her to do your job for you. See how that goes." I bit back my reply, banishing my terminal.

"Done with our tantrum?" he asked.

"Good. Remember where the lamp's located?" Bianca nodded once.

"It's on the central dais in the collection room."

"Yes, and this is the most important bit. Do not take off the lid. Also, there's a thin chain secured to the handle that feeds through the wick spout. Make sure it doesn't break, okay?"

"What do you think's inside?" Bianca asked, eyes glittering. Velk shrugged.

"No doubt a space that's bigger on the inside. It could be loaded with treasure. We may never find out. We're giving it to the queen the first chance we get, getting paid and hauling tail out of there." I rubbed my eyes and sighed loudly. I cast a glance across the bay at the Silver Zephyr, where crewmen suspended on ropes and harnesses finished patching her hull.

"Now," Velk said, patting his pockets, "There may be other lamps, so make sure you grab the right one." The Derk-Feykin frowned when he came up short.

"I had a sketch. The Captain must have grabbed it." He grimaced in irritation.

"Wait here." He started for the hatch, but stopped, eyes going wide.

"What are you doing, you dolts?" he shrieked. Four Orcs grunted under the weight of a cannon, the gangplank groaning underfoot.

"Use a hoist!" My eyebrows rose. As excited as I was to watch Velk juggle logistics, I was itching to get back to the Zephyr to manage my new toys. The Sparklock cousins had even thrown in a pair of heat-resistant powder horns.

"Where's Snapfist?" I asked.

"I'll go grab the sketch while you sort this out."

"With the quartermaster below—" Velk waved a dismissive hand. Then he turned his attention to his straining subordinates.

"No, don't go back! You got it this far, finish the trip—" I headed for the hatch, passing the gun deck. My boots touched down in the lower hold, and I froze as whispered voices met my ears.

"A turtle, you say?" Snapfist's voice came from deeper within the cargo bay.

"Aye, made of brass it was. Four, five times larger than the ship." That would be Barkley. I almost stepped in deeper, but I hesitated. When Barkley told us his ship had been attacked, I got the impression he had held something back. Would his story be consistent with Snapfist?

"Hmm," Snapfist hummed, his mechanical claw creaking.

"So ya saw it. It's no legend?"

"By the burns on my skin, it was real."

"What happened?" Movement from within obscured the following few words, and I had to strain to hear.

"—held the ship tight."

"Then what? Split the hull with its hands?" Barkley hesitated.

"No. Then we were boarded."

"Boarded? By who?" I leaned towards the darkness, and a plank creaked under my boot. I stopped breathing. My pulse throbbed in my ears. Barkley remained silent for four heartbeats.

"Automatons, looked like Orcs, but made of steel. Our guns barely scratched the paint."

"Automatons?" Snapfist echoed, his bladed fingers hissing as they slid against each other.

"To what end?" he asked.

"Did they take prisoners?"

"Prisoners? No. They made off with our cargo." Snapfist hummed thoughtfully.

"Robbed you, did they? And what, might I ask, were you hauling?" I had to breathe out. Pressure swelled in my lungs. I exhaled as softly as I could.

"Gnomes," Barkley said.

"Snatched from Terra Slab." My jaw locked. Barkley had been transporting sapients? There was only one thing worse than pirates—slavers. Snapfist cleared his throat.

"Best be sticking to more ordinary cargo for the future." I shifted to reveal myself.

"Aye, like orange steel." I froze.

"We have an accord with Naomi's crew," Snapfist said.

"Aye, we do. But we don't know them, Paradise folk, playing smugglers. We pirates, we have a code, but what do we owe them?"

"A betrayal is a debt in my book," Snapfist said.

"And I don't like being the first to take a credit."

"Think about it, friend," Barkley said, his voice dropping.

"Get your lamp, get a Scourged ship, take the Zephyr, and on top of it all, how much would Paradise pay us if we were the ones to deliver on their orange steel?"

"What about the Paradisians?" Snapfist asked.

"What about them?" Barkley asked.

"It's a dangerous mission. Accidents happen." I glanced up the ladder. What to do, go up, claim I didn't hear? I glanced back into the dim hold, controlling my breath. No, to be found fleeing would be the most damning. I strode forward.

"Snapfist!" I called, stepping into a crate-laden cargo area. Barkley and Snapfist whirled on me, wide-eyed. I pulled up short, ignoring the sweat on my neck.

"Oh. Velk sent me. He says you've got a sketch of the lamp?" Snapfist and Barkley exchanged a worried glance.

"What?" I asked.

"Aye," Barkley said, slipping a folded parchment from his breast pocket.

"Here it be." He handed it over. I lifted it with a nod of appreciation.

"Thanks." I turned, half expecting a knife or a claw to find its way into my back.

"Hey, kid," Barkley said. I stopped glancing over my shoulder.

"You've got a soft step," he said, voice flat.

"You think so?" I shrugged.

"Must be all that fencing. You know—footwork." He didn't smile.

"See you," I started up the ladder. <<Time to Seal Collapse: 04: 02: 02: 00: 34: 12>>