Chương 152: Arc 3 - Chapter 24

Lauren took the lead in the negotiations with the two street alchemists Ame and Naomi. Fritz lent support where he could, though he didn't want to take too much advantage of the goodwill he'd earned for his admittedly heroic actions in the Sunken Spire. He needn't have bothered, Ame knew what she wanted and what she wouldn't sacrifice, and no amount of prior heroism would sway her. It was frustrating, but he began to admire her steadfast, sure-headed nature. He could definitely see what Cal saw in her.

Soon it was only Lauren and Ame talking, the rest having had enough of the bargaining. They were content to simply watch and listen to the two as they set out stipulations and drew up terms. On paper no less. Fritz had thought a spoken promise or perhaps an oath would suffice to seal their deal, but both the women had looked at him like he was a fool. Ame's expression was more soft, grateful, but pitying in a way, while Lauren's was exasperated, almost contemptuous at his extension of trust.

Fritz brushed off their concern, but had produced the ink and quills required as they wrote out the stipulations, standards and the suitable stretch of time for delivery of alchemical goods they promised to produce. While the two women negotiated fiercely for concessions and compromises, Fritz listened and learned along with Cal, discovering that he had known even less of mercantile pursuits than he had suspected. There were many considerations he simply hadn't... considered.

It was one of these considerations that was the main contention. Ame refused to relocate her laboratory out of the drowned district. This caused Lauren no small amount of grief, but eventually, Lauren agreed, though she did have the woman promise to find somewhere larger than the small basement they currently occupied. There were some small arguments following and they were all sorted out over the hour. After all was said and done, Ame signed the paper, setting her thumbprint beside her name in green ink.

Lauren did the same, as did Naomi, then Fritz was called to set down both his own name and seal, he did so in blue ink and wax respectively. He noted that Ame had added her new last name. Lauren had advised her that she would need one, and the woman had, with a wink, picked Farshore. Lauren had looked somewhere between flattered and frustrated and had objected to a name so similar to her own, but Ame had brushed her off, saying, "It's as good a name as any."

Naomi was ambivalent about the whole affair, more interested in Fritz and the scrolls themselves.

"It's done?" Fritz asked, blowing on the still-hot seal.

"Not quite," Lauren said.

"An official scribe will have to recognise it, though with your seal it will get approved easily. Then it will be 'done'."

"Wonderful," Fritz said.

"Very," Lauren agreed.

"Cal, the gold."

"Right," Cal said, producing a sack of triads from his Personal Pack.

"That's quite the trick," Naomi said.

"That's what I said," Ame added. Cal smiled with only a hint of smugness, then he began counting out the nine triads that were to begin their patronage of the two sisters. The gold would allow them to afford all the new glassware and alchemical apparatuses they would need, along with the change of premises. The women eyed the triangular coins intently as he held them out for Ame to take. Tentatively she swept them up, then quickly secreted them under her pale blouse.

With that, she and Naomi set to fetch what remedies they could already provide. Healing grease and stamina restoratives most among them. Naomi handed Fritz a sack of goods with a smile, and he handed it straight to Cal to store away. Naomi held Fritz's gaze and bit her lower lip, something was troubling her and he didn't need Awareness to figure that out.

"What's wrong?" Fritz asked. She glanced around warily. And seeing that her sister and Lauren were chatting, in a quite friendly manner now that the bargaining was over, she motioned for Fritz to follow her outside. He did, leaving the other three to talk and look over the raider's scrolls. As they strode into the street, he could hear Ame explain which of the recipes she could conceivably concoct. Naomi stopped before him and turned, he swiftly centred his attention on her.

"I'm afraid you'll think us ungrateful. You brought us such a great gift and yet Ame haggled so hard," Naomi said.

"I just want you to know that I am thankful, for both the scrolls and the other thing." Fritz nodded. He understood why they had rejected the recipes without an agreement in place, many would hold such a favour over their heads for the rest of their lives and would leverage that debt to make them all but slaves, just as Ame had accused.

"I took no offence," Fritz said.

"Trust is hard to come by in the best of places. And the gutters are not the best of places."

"Honestly, the fact she even struck a deal with you speaks more than you know," Naomi said.

"Oh? Would she really have spat in my face as she claimed?"

"That and given you a face full of blinding powder," Naomi said with a small smile.

"I've seen her do it to many an unwanted, stubborn suitor or belligerent thug."

"Blinding powder? Wouldn't that be awful close to poison?" Fritz asked.

"It's on the edge," Naomi said.

"Or at least that's what she claims. I don't really care for such distinctions."

"You don't?"

"No," Naomi said her smile falling away.

"Many medicines are poisons in their own right if used inappropriately, or too often. And there are diseases that can only be treated with the most potent of cures." She didn't say the words "Like those men in the Spire," but Fritz heard them.

"I'm loathe to ask, however, do you think you could attempt to brew some of the venoms in the scrolls?" She glanced to the door where the sounds of chatter could still be heard.

"I will," Naomi said seriously.

"Don't tell Ame."

"Your secrets are safe with me," Fritz said.

"Likewise," Naomi said a wan smile creeping onto her lips. A weight of invisible string settled around them, small pulses of promise flew across and between the two. Though there was another sensation, one of longing, of denied desire woven with strands of possessive worry. Fritz ignored that feeling and smiled, suspecting that he'd seen more of her heart than she let show. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, he reciprocated and could smell a delightful floral scent rise from her hair.

It was a little overpowering and his nose itched. He stifled a sneeze and squeezed her once before letting her pull away.

"I'm sorry," she said, staring with slightly watery eyes.

"I know you... you... have someone already. But if that doesn't um, work, then I'll be right here."

"No you won't," Fritz said smiling gently.

"Oh?" She said, tilting her head.

"You're moving, remember?" Fritz stated.

"To a bigger building and better, less broken, things."

"Right, of course," she said, smiling sadly. Lauren and Cal appeared in the doorway.

"Fritz, we're done here, let's go," Lauren proclaimed.

"Ame has everything in hand now, and I'm well assured that she'll do as I've advised."

"Are you?" Fritz asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Yes, though I'll visit again soon, just to be sure," she stated.

"I'll come too," Cal said eagerly. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Lauren's eyes glowed with embers, but the motes soon faded.

"You won't be required, but come if you must," she allowed.

"Thanks," Cal said.

"You should come too, Fritz," Naomi said. Fritz nodded and said he would try. He was making his goodbyes and was about to leave when a thought occurred to him. Stopping mid-step, he turned and sought out Ame, ducking back into the small damp room where she perused the secrets of the scrolls. He strode to her and stopping in front of her, offered his hand for her to shake. She brought her gaze up from a recipe and eyed him quizzically.

"To our accord," he entreated, adding the ring of Dusksong.

"Oh, right," Ame said, quickly taking his hand. As their skin touched, Fritz felt a light bond settle around his and her shoulders. This one was spun of respect and goodwill, thinner yet tight like a lute's strings. Satisfied that he had bound her, if only softly, with a promise, he bowed, said a goodbye to both sisters and left, the paper agreement held safely in his satchel. Fritz felt bad that he had resorted to such petty means to extract an unspoken oath, but he could hardly dwell on the guilt.

Some things had to be done to keep him, his team and his family safe. He didn't really know what the consequences were for breaking a promise that he'd woven. But somewhere deep down, somewhere so deep even his Awareness couldn't touch it, he knew that they would suffer if they broke his trust. And that was right. He shook off the expectation of betrayal and the persistent paranoia that assailed him and led his team home.

This was to be their last day of rest so he was going to enjoy it, or he would have if the agony in his legs wasn't building again. The Ring of Pain Supression's effect had worn off and he sweat and clenched his jaw as he strode uphill, towards the gates. He set his Control and Focus to one thing, getting him back into bed and though it wasn't soon enough for his liking, he eventually made it up the stairs and into his room. He collapsed into his sheets and was asleep within moments.

There was a knocking, the opening and shutting of a door. Fritz was awoken by the noise for a moment, but tired as he was and felt no ill-will, he fell right back to sleep. When he awoke, again, it was night and there was a plate piled with food gone cold upon his bedside table. It could have been lunch or perhaps dinner. He ate ravenously, using his hands rather than the cutlery provided.

Only minutes after finishing the last bite did an incessant rapping come at his window, there the shadowed figure of Craig loomed. He motioned with one of his knives, and Fritz sighed. It was apparent he was in store for another night of 'roof running'. He gathered his things and put on his darker clothes. He had a passing thought to check in with Colette and purchase some more fitting apparel, some less fancifully patterned with fish and shells. As he made to leave he noticed a note on the floor.

It was one he had slipped under Bert's door and had been reused in similar fashion, a message scrawled below his own.

"Got a fight in the ring tonight. Bloody Bert." Fritz nodded to himself, wished Bert luck and placed the paper in a drawer. Then he left his room and met Craig out in the street.

"Get any of your jobs done?" He asked. Fritz hesitated for a moment, his mind still sluggish from his sleep.

"No," Fritz said.

"Did you at least case the Baron Coldwind's estate?" He grumbled.

"Not exactly," Fritz said, unwilling to explain all his doings to the thug.

"Lazy as well as reckless," Craig said.

"Great synergy. For me that is, you'll be dead in no time." Fritz didn't answer, he knew any words said to this man would be wasted. Craig spat to the side, then turned, striding into an alley and covering himself in shadow. Fritz followed and soon they were down in the drowned district, standing on a rooftop. The thug crouched on the tiles and they waited in the light rain for nearly six minutes before Fritz spoke up.

"What are we doing?" He whispered.

"Waitin'," Craig replied.

"For what?" Fritz asked.

"For who," Craig corrected.

"For whom," Fritz in turn corrected. The thug scowled.

"Another one of you newly Tolled. Nightshark wants me to train him up, just like you," Craig said.

"You might know him. Tony or something." Fritz nodded, then falsely bristled at the name. There was a streak of shadow, the telltale sign of Toby's Shadow Slink Ability and the man's figure settled into the alley below them, hiding behind an overflowing barrel. Fritz pointed him out to Craig. He nodded.

"Alright, go say hello and bring him up."

"I'd rather not speak to that traitor," Fritz said.

"Traitor is it? Steal your girl or something?" Craig said.

"Left me to die," Fritz said, performing his part in the facade he and Toby had worked out at the precipice of the Mer Spire. They had decided to pretend that the last time they had met was in the Sunken Spire, that floor where Toby and Jane had left him to fight Steve with only Sid at his side. A bitter memory. Some of that hurt must have come through in his tone because Craig nodded and seemingly believed him.

"Well, you're gonna have to play nice," he said.

"You can give him a fright and a cut if you want. A bit of payback never goes amiss. It'll teach him not to cross you again." Fritz hesitated again, glancing to the man's face to see if he was serious. He was, his eyes glinting and his smirk cruel. Playing his part, Fritz mirrored the smirk and pulled Mortal Edge free of its sheath, then slowly crept to the edge of the roof.

"That's a nice knife," Craig said enviously.

"Treasure?"

"No," Fritz lied.

"Just magic."

"Just magic, a shame," Craig replied with some small doubt. Fritz didn't let the man dwell on it, lest he get some ideas for its theft, and dropped from his perch to land behind Toby. Wrapped in dusk, he pressed the point of his dagger into the small of the man's back.

"We meet again, traitor," Fritz said, loud enough for Craig to hopefully hear.

"What? Who?" Toby gasped, ripples of real fear rising from his body like steam.

"Backstabbed too many men to recall me?" Fritz continued.

"Fritz?" Toby quailed. He wasn't a great actor, but you didn't have to be with a blade pointed at your back, and his terror came out true.

"You... you.. survived?"

"That's right, bastard," Fritz said.

"And we still have a score to settle" The moment stretched as Toby scrambled for words.

"Alright, that's enough fun," Craig said as he dropped into the alley and stood in front of them.

"Fun?" Toby snarled.

"This is your idea of fun?"

"Don't give me that look, you're lucky I'm here," the thug said.

"Fritz would have slit your throat otherwise, isn't that right?"

"Right," Fritz agreed.

"Anyway, put away the knife for now, you'll have plenty of time to play with it later," Craig said. Fritz huffed and pretended at begrudging obedience when he sheathed his blade. Toby let out an exaggerated, relieved sigh, then turned to glare at Fritz. The man winked, just out of Craig's sight to show that he held no malice, though he held onto his dark scowl. One accentuated by the addition of three pale, pink scars down the side of his face. Punishments for 'losing' Larry and the rest, no doubt.

"How's Jane? That traitoress still alive?" Fritz asked.

"Traitoress isn't a word, and don't go threatening my woman," Toby warned.

"If it was a word it would suit her perfectly. And there were no threats intended," Fritz replied, holding up a hand as if to ease the man.

"I'm merely concerned that there's two of you skulg still creeping around."

"Soon to be three," Craig said.

"That's what I heard at least." The words forced a true glare from Toby and a supporting one from Fritz.

"Now, now, none of that. Save your energy," Craig said.

"You've got a long night if you're both as inept as I suspect."

"More roof running?" Fritz sighed.

"That's right, then we can work on your knife fightin'," Craig said.

"Then maybe I'll teach you some tricks to fool wards." Fritz could do without the running and the fighting, but the promise of wardbreaking knowledge was hard to pass up. It seemed Toby agreed as well, but he might have been more keen for the knife fighting, judging from the flinty glitter in his eye when it was said. With their night so vaguely planned out before them, they began. They chased the shadowed figure of Craig through the night, each trying to outdo the other in unspoken, stubborn competition.

It reminded Fritz of a time before they were tossed into the dearly peril of the Sunken Spire when they each attempted to outdo the other's feats of stealth and scheme. There was less edge to their rivalry now, Fritz no longer feared that the man might stab him and Toby obviously felt a similar security that Fritz wasn't out to take what was his. The race was almost fun, if not for the constant danger of a slip or tumble and Craig increasing his pace until they eventually failed to both keep up and on their feet.

Fritz fell twice, saved both times by his Umbral Phase, while Toby slipped from the roofs on at least six occasions. He was able to protect himself by using his shadowy power to dart straight into an unoccupied shadow. Fritz envied the Ability, wishing he had such a useful tool for mobility instead of just having to use his legs. When they were done running, by Craig's judgement, he led them to a stinking warehouse. The centre of the building had been cleared, to make way for a makeshift ring.

There it was that he tested their dagger skills or lack thereof. Before that though, the thug let them rest, and Fritz and Toby slowly got their breaths under control. Craig invited Toby into the ring first, throwing off his cloak and browncoat to show off his lean, whipcord muscle under a tight black shirt. His arms were bigger than one would suspect a dagger wielder should have, they could even be called bulky. It made sense that he would be strong if he fought and killed as much as he boasted he did.

He likely had, judging from the net of crisscrossing, jagged, white scars that covered his forearms.

"We're using real blades, not blunted?" Toby asked disinterestedly, drawing two matching steel daggers from his belt.

"Yeah," Craig said, his own black knives jumping into his hands as if pulled on strings.

"We fight sharp, keeps you on your toes, if you keep them all that is. I don't hold with soft methods."

"Abilities?" Toby asked blandly.

"None," Craig said.

"Testing skills not powers." Toby nodded. Without another word they clashed, double daggers to double daggers. Steel sparked against stone for the opening strike and parry, then it was a flurry, forearm struck forearm and wrists twisted and turned in simple sharp motions as they each attempted to get inside one another's guard.

Craig was the more successful of the two in that endeavour and as they fought many thin lines of red appeared on Toby's skin, running up his arms and across his chest, while none marred the thug's own scarred thickly scarred limbs. Craig wasn't going for killing blows, that much was sure, if he was Toby would already be bleeding away his life on the stone. Even to Fritz's inexpert eyes, he could see their styles were similar if not the same one.

He guessed there was a Technique at play and that Craig was far further along the road to its mastery. Still, Toby had a few tricks and movements that could be recognised as part of the Arte Pugilist's teachings and they gave him an odd edge, especially when he mixed up a slashing, stabbing combination with a kick, a punch or an attempted hip throw.

After an intense minute that felt like six, the spar was stopped suddenly when Toby lost his dagger to a twisting parry and Craig's black, stone dagger ended resting on his throat.

"Not too bad. Tara take a shine to you? Teach you some tricks before she died? Before you left her?" Craig asked, his voice low.

"That's what you said before. Is that still your story?" Toby gulped.

"That's right. She couldn't keep up, dragged down and drowned before she could drink a potion." Craig stared into his face, searching for lies. Luckily, Toby had rehearsed this statement with Fritz and had perfected the tone and cadence that didn't stir Awareness or look too false. The thug eventually sighed.

"A pity, she was a dumb whore, but good for a laugh and often more. Could suck a skulg out of its shell she could," Craig said, grimacing. Then he made a show of realising his dagger was still at Toby's neck and removed it.

"My apologies, lad, sometimes my knives just slip my mind, but that's better than across your throat, don't you agree?"

"I do," Toby said, rubbing at a minute cut left on his neck and trying to keep his face steady. Craig seemed pleased at the humbling, but then turned his vicious smirk to Fritz.

"Alright, you're next. Knives only." He eyed Quicksilver contemptuously. Fritz nodded, removed Quicksilver and its sheath from his belt to allow him more freedom, then drew Mortal Edge for the second time that night. Toby left the ring of barrels and crates, pulling a tin of healing grease from a pocket. Fritz strode into his place, across from the man who was casually spinning his daggers.

Fritz crouched slightly and held his bone dagger in front of himself, taking on a stance closer to The Arte Pugilist than a fencing style, his left hand free to punch and grab.

"Just the one?" Craig asked.

"Just the one," Fritz agreed. Craig nodded as if it made no difference to him. Pain bloomed across Fritz's chest and the thug darted forward.