Chương 3: 2 My Party, My Squad

Four Weeks Later <<Name: Antonio Marco Moretti>> <<Race: Human-Deviant>> <<Class: None>> <<Rank: Graduate>> <<Lvl: None>> <<Total: Not synced to Oruabora>> <<Stats: >> Might (STR) — 7 Will (WIS) — 6 Focus (INT) — 6 Resilience (CON) — 8 Grace (DEX) — 8 Cunning (CHA) — 5"Here's to the end of those blasted tests!" Ingred declared, hefting her mug of cider.

"Today, we become cousins!" A grin split my face as I raised my cup. The four mugs tapped sharply as they met over the table. Graduation day—finally. Four years of essays by candlelight and early morning seminars. Four years of field training exercises and grueling apprenticeships under Paradise's greatest heroes. We had finally made it. I tugged my watch chain, pulling the timepiece from my vest pocket. I inhaled sharply when I saw the time. We needed to go.

My mother would kill me if I were late to my own graduation. Still, I glanced at my other three companions, the edge of my lips tugging up. The day had come. My party, my squad. Cousins—the word meant so much more than family for the citizens of Paradise Rock. They were the protectors who kept Paradise safe. Pirates, monsters, Bloodwake agents—countless dangers threatened my home. The Cousin Corps was the answer, and at last, I had made it. I cradled my mug, staring at my reflection in the amber liquid.

Today I took my oath. And I would do anything for Paradise. My hands tightened on the ceramic. Anything. I sat back in my white wire chair, letting the sun wash my face and savoring the sea breeze on my skin. Gulls cried overhead, and the musk of seaweed and fish blended in the air. I scanned the street, taking in the whitewashed stucco buildings and the red-tile roofs. Rafael's Cove. The port city that housed our government, the System Sanctum, and most importantly, my family. Life. Home. Order.

Except— I glanced up. Why'd I look? Why couldn't I have kept my eyes glued to my boots? A hairline crack scarred the heavens, red effulgence refracted off its edges like broken glass. Idiot. Why did I look? Two smaller lines now forked off the central split. They hadn't been there when it first appeared two weeks ago. My hand raised, compelled by a nauseating hypothesis. I pinched the fissure between my thumb and forefinger. Last time I tried it, the seam was about two inches long with my arm extended.

It had grown half an inch.

"Tony!" Ingred said, suddenly pulling me back to the Plaza Cafe. I blinked, dropping my hand and glancing at the dwarf. Of all my assigned companions, I was most excited to be on her squad. She wore the pinstriped blouse of the High Family over her tailored white shirt. Arcane focus rings glinted on her fingers, and braids pulled her near-white blonde hair into a plaited bundle. I'll say it, she's pretty for a stout. Me? I'd prefer someone of my own height.

"You're going to strain your neck staring up like that," she said.

"C'mon. We're graduating. Relax. Leave the cosmic anomaly to Granduncle." But that was the problem, I couldn't unwind, not with that cursed line hovering over my home.

"What is it?" I asked, slipping my watch back into my pocket.

"If Granduncle has everything under control, why is it still there?" Naomi spoke up from my right.

"I'm sure once we receive our need-to-know, we'll be briefed." My jaw tightened at her imperious tone, and I shifted my attention to her—our new team leader. Of all of the potential team members in my class, she was the one I did not want to get shackled to. To make matters worse, she was in charge, and she took every opportunity to remind us. Her large, Shad-feykin eyes bordered on black, and her warm grey knife ears split through her white hair.

I didn't have problems with Feykin; I do take issue with spoiled brats.

"So what?" I grumbled.

"We're not allowed to speculate? This is kind of a big deal."

"Assumptions are unhelpful, and frankly, dangerous," she said, back stiff and neck rigid. All of that court training seemed to come through extra thick when she spoke to me. I sniffed, leaning back and folding my arms over my chest.

"My bad, you're right. Why analyze and assess? Let's all turn off our brains and wait for the next briefing to tell us what to think." To my left, the final member of the party shifted uncomfortably, closing her bestiary. She tensed as she glanced from me to Naomi. I would never tell her this, but I hadn't known Bianca Romano existed until we had been assigned to the same squad. A bookish type, she tended to prefer her privacy. We had been in the same course for two years, and I'd never thought to introduce myself.

That wasn't entirely my fault. In the beginning, there were over three hundred of us candidates; now, fifteen of us were graduating. Like me, Bianca was human, and maybe an inch taller than Ingred. Naomi stood a hand taller than either of them, but at six feet two, I towered over everyone. I exhaled sharply, shooting Bianca an apologetic grimace.

"Another round for the heroes?" Mrs. Moonfeather asked as she hurried back to the table, apron gathered around her work dress. Her eyes sat high on her head, golden orbs that shifted to each of us in turn. Mottled feathers covered her face and arms. She was a Fowl-kin. No, not a falcon—a Fowl-kin. Being the idiot I was, I called them Falcons until I was like fifteen. It wasn't until I got a graded report back on Floating Rock that I realized just how stupid I was.

Her particular subspecies shared many characteristics with owls.

"Thank you, no," Naomi said, counting treasury notes onto the table. Great, she was going to pay for all of us. The gesture would be nice if she subsisted off of the same candidate stipend we all did. But this was no doubt mommy's money, a reminder of her superior station, and a tactic to keep us relying on her.

"I've got it," I said hurriedly, fishing out my much thinner wallet. She hesitated, cocking a sharp white brow at me.

"You got us last time," I said, shrugging.

"My turn." From the outside, it might've looked like friends supporting each other. But this was just another episode in a long line of power struggles. Naomi moved first. Extending her bills and pressing them directly into Mrs. Moonfeather's hand.

"There, paid," she said, flashing a grin. Moonfeather curtsied in appreciation, then swept off to help another customer. I grumbled under my breath but was secretly glad. Money I didn't have to spend was money I could send back to my mother and sister. Still, that felt like I was giving up too easily.

"Thanks," I murmured, then, pausing, I added.

"Princess." She went rigid, shoulder blades contracting.

"Don't call me that," she said, voice devoid of inflection. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"Why not?" I shrugged.

"I mean, your mother is the only Aunt who actually rules her own island. That literally makes you a princess." Ingred's face soured, and she subtly shook her head, wisely trying to warn me off my current trajectory.

"Ruler by marriage," Naomi insisted.

"I'm Paradisean, just like the rest of you." My cutlass scabbard scraped softly against my chair as I rubbed my chin.

"Hmm, no, that doesn't make sense. You're literally heiress to Fel Rock. Do you get dual citizenship or something?" The cords on Naomi's neck bulged.

"Here's the deal—don't call me princess, don't treat me any differently because of my bloodline, and I'll extend the same respect. Sounds fair, Sleeperson?" Ingred's eyes widened, and she tensed. Sleeperson. I have a temper; I burn hot. Usually, that word was the match tossed on the black powder. Not today. This time, I had started it. I went cold, shoulders sagging. My hands folded, head hanging.

"Sorry," I murmured.

"Let's go," Naomi said, sliding from her chair and plucking her pinstripe jacket from the back of her seat. Chairs scraped as the others shuffled to gather their things. Ingred studied me as her chair slid back into its place. I didn't meet her gaze, but stared at my boots as my face went numb. We were graduating, swearing our oaths. I didn't deserve to be a cousin. Sleeperson. The spawn of the Bloodwake agent who had infiltrated Paradise Rock, taken a wife, and had children.

A member of the community for nearly a decade before an encrypted activation order turned him into a weapon. I saw his face. His tan skin and dark, thick hair—just like mine. That day, he had thrown me in the air, laughing and catching me as I squealed in childish delight. Storm clouds had gathered over the bay, drawing his eyes. Everything had seemed so normal. It wasn't. The air on my forearms prickled, and I rubbed at the dry skin that was forming there.

In candidate school, only the toughest with a real purpose made it through the Pipeline. For Naomi, it was expectation. For Ingred, prodigy aptitude paired with a fierce desire to help others. I couldn't say what drove Bianca, but for me, it was redemption. I'd prove to Paradise that I was not my father's son. With every step along this path, I severed the line that connected me to him.

"We'll take a coach to the sanctum," Naomi decided, taking the lead as she started across the cobblestone plaza.

"Hey," Ingred punched my arm, shocking me from the spiral. I glanced over to the dwarf in surprise.

"You good?" she asked. Ahead, Naomi signaled a coach.

"Fine," I mumbled, wishing she'd drop it. Thankfully, she read into that. Ingred was always good at reading me.

"It's her step-father," she said.

"Huh?" I glanced over.

"She doesn't like to be reminded about that thing, her mother married." I scratched at my dry forearms as I watched Naomi negotiate with the coach rider. Of course, her mother had recently remarried. Aunt Flavia Myrkrath—Paradise Rock's chief necromancer—now wed to Leonardo Bloodshackle, the vampire lord. The union had pulled Fel Rock into the Paradise Coalition, but I hadn't stopped to consider what it meant to the girl caught between family and politics.

Naomi glanced over, her fae eyes catching me staring, and I flinched away. Smooth, I thought. idiot.

"You know you should get some ointment for those," Ingred nodded at my forearms.

"They'll never heal if you keep clawing at them. I dropped my hands.

"Let's go. We have a graduation to catch." I started for the coach. The ground rocked, a distant boom rattling the window. Stumbling, I spun. Screams split the air. There—a column of smoke billowed from the docks. The crack of musket fire echoed through the streets. My cutlass cleared its sheath in an instant, and I lurched forward. What was it? Pirates? Bloodwake? Deep ones? It would be a sprint, but it was mostly downhill; we could make it.

"Tony!" I pulled up short at the sound of Naomi's voice. She stood halfway in the carriage, eyes wide. She glanced from me to the rising smoke by the docks. In that moment, I saw it—not the snooty aristocrat with a point to prove, but the uncertain rookie, assigned to lead before she was ready. Musket fire snapped, and cries of pain echoed up the cove streets.

"Naomi, we gotta go!" I barked.

"If we miss it—" she cut off. Hanging from the open carriage, she glanced up the hill toward the sanctum, where we would get our classes and sync with the system in less than an hour—when we would finally count for something. Two musketeers rushed down the road, and my hand tightened around my cutlass. Yes, Rafael's Cove had guards. Cousins weren't the only line of defense. Still, I would do anything to protect my home. Naomi tore her eyes from the top of the cove and glanced at me.

She bit her tongue, considering, then she nodded once.

"Go!" I turned, charging away, but I wasn't running alone. They ran alongside me. My party, charging as one. My skin tingled, and my hackles stood on end. My boots pounded against cobblestones, my cutlass glinting in my hand. Townsfolk crowded the streets, gawking at the choked smoke plume.

"Make way!" I bellowed. They scattered. Our first operation. Not official, but Cousins were always on duty.

"Tony, don't get ahead!" Naomi panted at my side.

"Assess first. If you die before the team's official, I swear—" Her words cut off as she gasped for breath. I rolled my eyes. I caught sight of the docks, and my irritation vanished. A squad of musketeers braced for cover, firing down the dock. White gunsmoke obscured the enemy. Fastest in the party, I surged ahead.

"Tony!" Naomi snapped. I slowed just enough for them to catch up, then took cover behind a makeshift firing position behind some crates. They piled into cover next to me, ducking low. A barrel sailed through the air and smashed through a storefront window. A young lieutenant panted, red-faced. A massive dent deformed his steel cuirass. He leveled a wand, sending out a pair of Lesser Arcane Strikes before ducking back down. In reply, two darts spat forward, embedding in the crate.

I drew my tinker pistol and thumbed the hammer. A lead ball the size of a fist slammed into the crate from the other side, splintering wood.

"Sir!" I barked.

"What's the situation?" The overwhelmed officer took in our High Family pinstripes and gasped in relief.

"Praise Oura!" he panted.

"Lieutenant!" Naomi called, ducking lower.

"What's happening?"

"Ripjaw!" he called.

"Fish mutants! They're dumping the powder. One barrel already blew." A grounded longboat a few paces off offered a better vantage point. I inhaled, then lunged behind it. Keeping my head below the keel, I risked a peek over the top. Six short figures whirled slings and pulled blowguns to their mouths. At half my height, they stood somewhere between a gnome and a halfling. Fish eyes bulged on either side of their heads while shark teeth lined their mouths—Deeplings—smallest of the Deep Folk.

Much larger Deep Ones tossed crates into the ocean behind them—they would be a problem. I gasped, then ducked down as heavy balls and darts slammed into the rowboat.

"Six Deeplings!" I called.

"Two Deep Ones and a Dagonite." One of the lieutenant's musketeers risked a shot and flinched with a curse as a dart stuck him in the arm. I scanned the road. Two halberdiers and another musketeer already twitched on the ground.

"Toxins!" the lieutenant called.

"Do any of you have healing magic?"

"Negative," Naomi called.

"Then call for someone who does!" he said.

"Access Ourabora."

"About that," I chuckled as lead hail and needles zipped past.

"We're not synced with the system yet."

"Not synced—" he blinked.

"You mean you don't even have feats yet?" A Deep One brute hurled another crate of gunpowder into the bay.

"No levels—" Naomi said, flexing her hand. A pair of daggers lifted from her belt, levitating up beside her.

"But not exactly helpless." I nodded knowingly. Even low-tier non-system magic could turn the tide here. Of course, I didn't have any. Ingred pointed to a ship moored further down the wharf.

"Where's the crew on that ship?" I glanced. I had been so engrossed in my arrival that I had missed it entirely—a hobgoblin Iron Fang-class corvette. Patches covered several breaches where it had recently taken cannon fire. A faded yellow painting of shackles in front of a splashing wave marked its fleet—Chain Tide—mercenaries paid to keep orc pirates out of our waters.

"The goblins?" the lieutenant cried.

"No idea. Getting drunk?" A series of sharp thumps jostled the rowboat I used as cover. I readied myself to pop out and take a shot, but I stopped when I saw them. Dorsal fins cut through the shallows in lazy loops.

"Sharks!" I called.

"Looks like they brought hounds. Stay out of the water!" Naomi's head bobbed, an idea forming.

"Lieutenant, get your men out of here, then find that Chain Tide crew. Tell them we need help!"

"Goblins won't fight until they have the money in hand," the young officer said.

"Tell them I'll give them a keg for every fish head they collect!" she snapped. The lieutenant's head bobbed once.

"Cover me as I pull back?" I holstered my pistol and pulled my sweaty suit coat off, gripping it in my offhand like a cape.

"You're going to go broke with your generous offer," I called to Naomi.

"Please," she said, rolling her wrist, and the hovering blades tilted forward.

"They're not getting a single mug. Your job is to finish the Ripjaws off before our goblin friends arrive."

"So why make the offer?" Ingred asked as she struck a pattern in the air with her fingers. Her rings glittered as frost coalesced between her hands.

"Hoping the sight of two dozen drunk hobgoblins scared the fishes off!" Naomi called, grey skin paling as sweat beaded on her forehead. Bianca plucked a dart embedded in a barrel. She sniffed the green slime smeared on the end, then licked it. I grimaced. She pricked her finger.

"What are you doing?" I shouted.

"Toxin profile tolerable," she murmured, smearing blood between thumb and forefinger. A needle hissed up past my ear, and I cursed at the sight of a reed pipe sticking up out of the water.

"More below!" I cried. Fins sliced through dark water below as a Deep One brute sent another crate to the sea with a splash. Bianca's skin hardened, thickening and growing calluses. I grimaced. Functional, but disturbing. I was really doing this, what I'd trained my whole life for, only now that it was in front of me, I wasn't so sure I'd make it to graduation.

"All right, team!" Naomi called.

"Let's do this!" Let off my leash, I sprang forward.