Chương 132: Arc 3 - Chapter 4

Fritz left the orphanage, though not before finding his sister and wishing her well. She was far more excited to see him than his brother and had smiled wide when she saw him. They had embraced, holding each other for some moments before Fritz explained he needed to go. He gifted her a small bone broach carved in the shape of a leaping fish, one of the small pieces he had claimed from the bronze chest loot.

She smiled politely, obviously finding the ornament not to her taste, but happy for a gift from her biggest and best brother. As Fritz knew he was. Then he said a quick, quaint goodbye to Jess under the watchful, wearied eye of Frank. Fritz considered weaving another curse into the man, but didn't want to deprive the orphanage of one of its guards, just in case there was some unexpected danger.

As he was being escorted out by the guard and were nearing the iron gate, Fritz said, "Frank, I may have made some enemies."

"Unsurprising. But what's that got to do with me?" Frank asked.

"Well, I know that many wouldn't want to risk the wrath of the Guides Guild. But seeing as the Hightides are not well regarded, they may try to hurt my family irrespective of the orphanage's protection," Fritz said with an air of nonchalance belying his keen worry.

"Hmph," Frank grunted, running a hand over a stubbled chin.

"Can I count on you to help, perhaps a word in the ear of the other guards?" Fritz entreated.

"Fine," Frank said.

"I'll do what I can." Fritz smiled, pulled out some gold triads and handed them to Frank. Or attempted to.

"What's this?" Frank asked, frowning.

"Something to make the increased oversight more palatable," Fritz smirked. Frank's face twitched, then he shoved the triads into Fritz's chest, hard, and spat to the side.

"Keep your gold, Francis," Frank growled.

"This ain't a trade. It's my bloody job and I care for these brats." As surprised as Fritz was, he snatched up the coins that fell when Frank took his hand away, not letting even one strike the ground. Frank coughed and regained his slouched composure.

"Get out of here," he ordered. Fritz nodded, leaving in a dignified rush and vaulting the iron gate with impeccable grace. And although he rankled at the rough reception he'd received it gladdened him that at least one of the guards had something akin to a good heart, or something approaching morals. As he walked through the rain he smiled.

Fritz's next stop was on Jeweller's Row and he quickly made his way there, umbrella unfurled until he was under the rafters and could see the glittering displays of the various storefronts. For some minute he merely admired all the gleaming stones and shining bands and chains of beautifully polished, precious metals. He noticed that some were obviously Mer Spire made, with the telltale fine scales or fish motifs it inflicted on its rewards.

Others could have been made by the Rain Spire, though Fritz couldn't quite tell them apart from the human-made jewellery as the styles were too alike. He wondered how many were Treasures or had magical properties. Fritz remembered the fist-sized, red gemstone he had secured in his pack and considered entering one of the shops to have it assessed and identified. He was at one of the store doors and about to enter when he felt a flash of inexplicable dread. He was being watched.

He spun surreptitiously, pretending that he was listening for someone calling his name in the crowd. Scanning the various groups of patrons, noble and common alike, he saw no one staring in his direction. Then he peered over his shoulder at the storm guard posted on the corner and found that they weren't looking in his direction at all. Which was a boon seeing as he recognised her as the guard sergeant that had caught him in Colette's tailoring shop. He wouldn't forget those hardened, yet soft brown eyes.

If he recalled correctly, Louisa was her name. If he had his coat he would have raised its collar to shield his face, but he had no such disguise, so he relied on simply staying out of her sight by slipping by and ducking into the advocate's office he was here to visit. It was a small office with walls of stone and wood that were hung with small paintings. There was a couch made of dimpled grey leather to his right and a large, well-organised desk just a few yards in front of him.

Behind the desk, there was a neatly-groomed, young man who looked up from some papers he was reading and greeted Fritz as he entered.

"Welcome, sir," the man said brightly, levelling his clear grey eyes on Fritz and smiling.

"Thank you, are you Timothy Worth? The advocate?" Fritz asked.

"I am Timothy Worth, though not the one you're looking for," the man said. He was entirely too chipper and when Fritz raised an eyebrow, the man continued, "I'm the esteemed advocate's apprentice, and son."

"Ah, well, I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Worth," Fritz said amiably, flashing a polite smile.

"I'm Francis Hightide, is there a chance I could meet with the advocate?"

"You're not one of our current clients. Alas, we find ourselves pressed at the moment and could not possibly take on any more litigation," Timothy said in feigned remorse.

"If it makes any difference, Headmaster Harvest sent me," Fritz said, smiling through the rejection.

"That does make a difference! Master Harvest is a good friend of my father and a wonderfully kind man," Timothy said his smile reappearing.

"What do you require help with?"

"Should I not discuss this with the advocate himself?" Fritz asked, not wanting to be rude but also not wanting to have to explain his situation to everyone he met.

"The more you provide now the smoother the meeting with the advocate will go. It will also allow me the time to study your request and the relevant law and histories," Timothy explained easily.

"Well, it's to do with inheritance and the return of House Hightide's estates held in trust," Fritz said, repeating what he had heard, but not really understanding all the terms or what it meant.

"Ah, I see," Timothy said, a frown creasing his pleasant features.

"This may be a difficult one."

Fritz left the advocate's office. The experience had been both enlightening and deeply frustrating. The succession laws were old and some were merely enforced on the king's arbitrary whims rather than anything approaching logic or order. Still, Worth had said that Fritz's title as a Lord was safe, though he was less sure about any wealth or property that had been seized or 'put in trust', which apparently was a fancy way of saying some other noble was managing his inheritance with impunity and little oversight.

Ostensibly, the holder of such trust was meant to maintain the estate, though even Worth agreed that it wasn't likely the case for the house of Hightide. There was little care to be had for the disgraced, mostly dead, house, which made all that they had held easy pickings for a savvy, unscrupulous noble. Which in Fritz's view was all of them. It wasn't all tragedy. His signet seal still held power, or rather his noble authority, and he was easily able to complete the required writ to take over as head of his house.

He just needed three noble witnesses to sign and seal the document and he would be legitimised. Until the house had its head he couldn't pursue recovering his inheritance, but that was the least of his worries for now, as he could still use his signet ring to seal any agreements that needed such an official mark. He sighed, opening his umbrella and stepping out into the street, annoyed at having to spend two gold triads on the advocate's advice and hating the king's bureaucracy with all his heart.

Why couldn't these things be easy? With his mind marginally muddled by the newly added mundanities, Fritz strode forward only for him to have to stop as someone stepped into his path. He almost scowled until he recognised the woman as the guard sergeant he had seen and snuck past only an hour or two earlier.

"You," she barked, glaring up into his face.

"Yes? Is there something I can do for you guardswoman?" Fritz said blandly, frowning slightly and pretending not to recognise her.

"Just making sure you're not up to any trouble, 'Francis'," the sergeant said.

"You'll have to excuse me. But I don't recall having any quarrel with the illustrious storm guard," Fritz said, feigning confusion. Louisa frowned.

"You don't recall?" She asked suspiciously.

"You don't recall breaking into a tailor's shop, triggering the wards and knocking out one of my guards?" Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

"Hmm," Fritz said, rubbing his smooth chin and pretending to search his memories.

"Had I been drinking?"

"Yes," she said.

"Right! Captain Lisa, am I right?" Fritz asked, giving the woman his most charming, rakish, smile.

"Sergeant Louisa," she corrected, apparently annoyed, flicking long, dark hair out of her face.

"Of course, it's all coming back now," Fritz said, embracing his Dusksong.

"I must confess it's all rather blurry. But my, what a night of passions!" Before the guard could respond to his exaggerated outburst, Fritz continued, "I thank you again for your discretion. Without your undeniable grace and wisdom, I shudder to think what would have happened. That small mistake may have shamed my family, or worse, disappointed the baroness."

"Uh-huh," she said, searching him for any falsehood, she noticed his signet ring and stared at it intently as if committing it to memory. Fritz quickly clasped his hands behind his back.

"Now, I'm terribly sorry, but I have many errands to attend to, and as wonderful as your company is I must be off. Good day, sergeant." Fritz stepped to the side and strode past. She didn't stop him but he could feel her gaze on his back until he turned a corner. Fritz sighed, again, just one day in Rain City and he wished he was back in a Spire. At least things were simple there: Climb, survive the deadly trials, and get powers. Easy.

Not all this tiptoeing around the various authorities be it the king, the guard or the Nightshark. If only secrets weren't tied to survival. Still, the path was paved, and he had to walk it. Fritz straightened his back and made his way back to the row of rented houses. It took all of half an hour to return, and he was able to have his contract sealed within minutes. Just the heating of some black wax and the press of his ring and it was all official.

The entire affair was anti-climatic in the extreme and hardly seemed worth all the effort he'd put forth or the pain he'd caused Elliot, and himself. Now it was done, he had somewhere safe-enough to stay, and he could take some time to consider his next moves and scheme away to his heart's content. He knocked on the door to his new home. Cal answered the door and let him in. Fritz made his way to the lounge, where the team had congregated.

All five of them had made themselves comfortable, some of them too much so, as Rosie was in an ugly yellow dress and splayed out asleep on one of the couches, snoring brutishly. It was odd, seeing them all relaxed and in casual clothing rather than on edge and armoured. The sight brought a smile to his face. Bert, sitting in an armchair by the fireplace and with little Dale on one shirted shoulder asked, "What are you smirking at?"

"Nothing much, I am merely glad you're all settling in so nicely," Fritz said.

"Not much else to do," Bert replied.

"I'm bored." Fritz smirked at that.

"Did you get the badge for Dale?" Bert asked.

"No, you have to go to the drizzler's main barracks and prove he's not a threat through a bunch of tests. Then they give you a badge," Fritz said, summarising what the advocate's apprentice had told him.

"Bloody drizzlers," Bert grumbled.

"But if it's for Dale I can stomach a visit to that den of thugs."

"Take some gold, both for the badge and for the bribes," Fritz advised.

"I'll go do that now. No use wasting daylight," Bert said, sighing, then standing swiftly and taking his leave. Then his head appeared again in the doorway, "We going out tonight?"

"Definitely, we need to celebrate our glorious Golden Climb," Fritz agreed.

"Tallies? Wouldn't mind seeing a few friends," Bert suggested, waggling his eyebrows and grinning.

"Is that some district tavern?" Lauren asked, her nose wrinkling.

"Of a sort, the gem of the drowned district," Bert stated proudly.

"Prettiest girls too." That seemed to get Lauren's interest, though she still pretended at distaste.

"It might be a little dangerous for a lady like you to go down into the districts," Cal said worriedly.

"Ha! For them maybe," Bert exclaimed.

"We're Pathers now, Cal."

"Bert's right," Rosie said yawning and stretching.

"Someone bothers me or Lauren, I'll beat their heads in. Both of them."

"Really, we should be more mindful of making waves," Fritz said.

"Though I get the feeling that even if we were to hole up here for weeks in secret people would still talk. Nothing stops gossip."

"True as the rain," Lauren agreed.

"We'll make a plan at dusk," Fritz said.

"Be back by then." Bert nodded once and left.

"Don't you two also have business?" Fritz inquired of George and Lauren.

"It can wait," Lauren said.

"I want to be prepared when I return the Flame Rod and the Lens to my family. I'll go in an hour or two." She returned to reading a book, though she tapped her foot restlessly. George shrugged.

"I'll get to it in time. Got everything I need here, excepting a forge." Fritz nodded, then found himself at a bit of a loss of what to do while he waited for dusk to come. He thought about going to find Sid, but that would take too long and who knew where she was or what she was doing. He put the idea out of his head, looked to George and considered asking the man for a quick spar in the yard, again he discarded the thought.

He had just gotten clean and didn't want to tire himself out too much before their celebration. He hummed to himself and sat in the armchair Bert had vacated, setting his pack to rest at his side and pulling the red gemstone from its depths. It gleamed in the firelight, flickering lines lit up in its internal facets and refracted on the carpeted floor in strange, fleeting patterns. It was one of these shapes that demanded his attention. He thought he saw some meaning.

Stilling a shaking hand, he slowly turned the gem, trying to catch the light at the right angle to reproduce the effect. For a moment it appeared before fading again. It looked almost like a glyph. No, it was a glyph and he could read it "Illuminative". He tried to conjure the word again or any other, but had no luck. Fritz immediately realised the problem, the firelight was too unstable, flickering and dancing to its own tune. He needed a steadier source of light.

Maybe some sort of mana lamp or perhaps-"Rosie, can I borrow your pick?"

"Huh?" Rosie asked, spinning on him, her incongruent, flowery dress flaring, revealing scaly knees and shins over smooth, pale calves for a fleeting moment.

"Your Starlight Pick. I need to test something," Fritz said excitedly.

"Alright," she said, then she turned and left the lounge. He could hear her steps, her feet thudding on the, thankfully, solid stairs. She was back within a minute, pick in hand. Fritz took it from her with a smile and activated its Ability to shed light. Its head lit up like a distant star, white light washing over the room. He held up the gem and let the brilliance shine through the complex faceting.

Where the light poured through, the floor and walls ahead of him were instantly covered in a dizzying display of scattered overlapping scarlet lines. Fritz smiled, then frowned as he found he couldn't make any sense of the puzzling skein. He wondered if he had merely imagined the glyph he had seen before. Everyone in the room searched the maze of light in silence for almost a minute.

"Pretty," Rosie said half-heartedly, her disinterest plain.

"Quite," George agreed.

"But what is it?"

"What it is: is giving me a headache," Lauren complained.

"Can you do that somewhere else?" Fritz moved the light away from the gemstone. The patterns shifted, blurred or sharpened, shifting with the distance and facets exposed to the pick's radiance. He thought he could see another couple of glyphs that made sense, if only for a moment.

"Cut. Setting. Shine," Fritz read out loud.

"Hmm?" George asked.

"I know what it is," Fritz said, trying to suppress his desire to jump up and down in delight.

"What?" Rosie asked.

"It's not just a shiny gem?"

"No, think about where we found it," Fritz said in self-satisfaction, having figured out a part of the gem's secrets and doubly glad he hadn't had it identified by a jeweller.

"What... in the library right?" Rosie said.

"Yes," Fritz affirmed.

"It's a book," Lauren stated, catching on quickly.

"Not just a book, a Technique," Fritz corrected.

"What kind?" Rosie asked.

"Another Sword Technique?" George asked, his interest piqued.

"I think not. Though if it is what I suppose it is then it will serve us well," Fritz theorised. Schemes and plans raced through his head at the implications and impending implementations. Oh yes, this would do nicely indeed.

"Fritz! It's Dusk! Stop playing with your jewels and get down here," Bert yelled up the stairway. Startled out of his experimentation with the gemstone, Fritz set down both it and the glowstone lantern. He covered it with a spare sheet, plunging him and the walk-in closet into blessed darkness. He sighed, unfortunately, he'd made little progress in the hours that had preceded Bert's shout and his eyes ached, faint after images floating in his vision for a moment before fading.

Although it was nigh impossible to read for now, he knew he was one step closer to divining the mysteries held within the stone. Fritz rubbed his eyes and smiled, relaxing the frown that had crawled onto his face while he had concentrated on figuring out how to make the Technique's knowledge legible. While the allure of power called to him, he had to get out and let loose for a while. Hopefully, a bit of indulgence would help him think clearer. Well, after the hangover at least.

He stood and left the closet, then strode out of his room and rushed down the stairs three at a time. Grace guided his steps and he smoothly slid into a stop only when he reached the lounge where everyone was gathered. Bert stood there a badge pinned to his vest, and Dale on his shoulder. Lauren had changed into a form-fitting, long green dress, and was wearing the pearls she had claimed from the bronze chest.

She was beautiful, though she held herself aloofly and her eyes were angry, alight with that fine ring of fire. Her reunion with her family must have gone sour. Rosie stood beside her in a similarly fancy attire, this one a deep blue with a scandalously high slit up one leg. It complimented her scales and while she had less jewellery and stood a little awkwardly on some borrowed high heels, she looked nice.

Cal and George were attired much as Fritz was, in a long sleeved shirts, patterned with scales, fish and clamshells. Dark trousers were held up by bone buckled belts. No one but Fritz appeared armed and their more bulky treasures were noticeably missing.

"Where are your Treasures?" he asked.

"In my Personal Pack," Cal said, a smug smile spreading over his features.

"I've got mine," George said, showing his copperchange ring and tapping his arm. The thunk of metal clearly sounded from underneath his shirt.

"Mine are also in Cal's Ability thing. I can't well carry around a hatchet and a pick while in a dress now can I?" Rosie groused.

"Not if I want to attract a man. At least that's what Lauren says."

"We're out to celebrate our climb, not to cavort," Fritz said.

"Of course we are," Bert said disingenuously, grinning the whole time as he eyed Rosie. She gazed at him with a similarly eager stare. Cal noticed the stares and stepped between the two, saying, "What's the plan then? Where are we going?"

"Tallies," Bert stated.

"Can we at least try a tavern up here in the Upper Ring first," Lauren asked sharply, frustration evident in her tone. Though her harshness was more a product of her current mood rather than any personal grievance.

"We should definitely visit one of the Climber taverns up here," Fritz said amiably.

"Then we can see where the night takes us."

"Sounds like a good plan," George said.

"Some other rules, do not talk about the eighth floor. And perhaps don't go telling everyone you succeeded a Golden Climb. We don't want to draw too much attention. Not yet. Tonight we're relaxing and having fun not trying to catch the eyes of our betters," Fritz espoused.

"I agree," Lauren said.

"Try not to get too drunk either."

"Why are we even bothering if we have to be so secretive," Cal groused.

"Might as well stay in."

"Because it's Climbing tradition, we deserve it and we need it," Fritz stated. While he agreed that they would need to be careful there was no way he was going to let the shadows looming overhead prevent him from enjoying the few moments of freedom he had left. Soon the Nightshark would come for him, soon he would have to fight for what remained of his house, soon he would have to lay his plans and prepare his training. But right now, right now he had a night of his own and he was going to enjoy it.

With his team, with his friends. His only regret was that his siblings couldn't join him. And although there would be other Climbs to celebrate, there was that pang of loneliness of separation.

"Let's go!" Bert cried, slapping Fritz on the back and snapping him out of those darker thoughts. Fritz smiled, Bert grinned and Dale whistled.

"Should you really be taking him out as well," Fritz asked.

"Hmm?" Bert inquired with the raising of an eyebrow.

"Dale," Fritz said gesturing.

"Oh. You're right he is a little young to go out drinking," Bert said.

"I'll put him in his bowl."

"Bowl?" Cal asked.

"A fish bowl. Nobles have all kinds of hobbies, collecting rare fish is one of them," Bert explained, shaking his head as if he couldn't fathom such a thing.

"I filled it with a bunch of sea salt, he'll love it." Dale warbled.

"There there, I'll be back by dawn," Bert said.

"You watch the house." Dale whistled and waved its tendrils in the air. Bert bounded up the stairs, then down again, Daleless. The team gathered together excitedly, chattering and smoothing their fine garments, then made their way to the door as a group. They all cut quite the figure, if Fritz did say so himself. The women looked wonderful, as lovely as he'd ever seen them. The men were clean and their clothes respectable. Each were handsome in their own way.

Even Cal looked decent, a far cry from the ragged wretch he had been, though the same could be said of both Bert and himself.

"As always, follow me!" Fritz said, opening his umbrella into the rain and letting the ladies crowd under it. Then he led them into the dusk that would lead into a night of revelry.