Chương 160: Arc 3 - Chapter 32

Fritz was late to his nightly meeting with Craig, but he couldn't bring himself to care much about that. The fervent, earnest hour he spent with Sid was a welcome respite from the constant stress and suffering of the demands his daily, and nightly, life ordained. He was sad to see her go and sadder to say goodbye. She was similarly loath to let go and leave. Although she spoke not of her desires, he could read it in the motes and ripples of emotion that shifted in the air around her.

Fear, worry and regret, not only for herself, but for those she had put under her protection. They promised to meet again before dawn, so Fritz could be introduced to the suspicious and scorned folk that resided in Sid's territory. She told him of her efforts to organise the urchins and undesirables that made up her subjects. It had been a great struggle and Fritz doubted he could have pulled off something similar. Though he had never tried, which he supposed spoke to something about his own ambitions.

With one short, rough, but lingering kiss she had left, off to prepare to Climb the Mer Spire where she could grow as strong as Fritz himself had. Although he was jealous that he wasn't the one guiding her up, he wished her good fortune. She had claimed she didn't need it, but she smiled and thanked him anyway and reminded him to meet her before the birds started singing and the skulg were beginning to gurgle. Fritz intended to, and swore upon the Spires he would.

With Bert by his side if he could wrangle the man from his bed. Head and heart still singing, Fritz faced the scowling countenance of Craig.

"What are you smiling for? Are you mocking me?" The cutthroat growled.

"Not at all, and I apologise for my lack of punctuality," Fritz said. Craig's face twitched and anger roiled off his shoulders, but his response came out lightly.

"No harm done. We'll skip the roof running for tonight, you two have got the hang of that anyway. So let's get straight into knife fightin'."

"Sure," Toby agreed.

"Splendid," Fritz said. With that, they made their way into the warehouse. Again, Craig took a more personal hand in their training, and he wasn't at all gentle. The cuts both of them received were deeper and the stabs came closer to vital veins or organs. Fear, dread and deadly stress piled on as they took their turns facing the thug. He pressed them harder with every bout, his knives taking a terrible toll on their clothes and skin.

Blood trickled down Fritz in many small streams, splattering the stony ground and leaving it slippery. Neither he nor Toby complained about the cruel treatment, they knew it would do them no good. The man was punishing both of them for Fritz's mistake, a method sure to breed resentment between them. Craig was cunning, he could give him that. For almost an hour, the cut-throat tortured them thus. It wasn't until Fritz stumbled, his foot sliding from under him, that Craig called a stop.

"Here," he said, tossing out two vials of Blood Serum to both of the two sweat-soaked men.

"Thought we only got one of these as a prize," Toby grumbled woozily.

"Is that the way to repay charity?" Craig asked.

"With doubt?" Toby looked at the serum suspiciously, then he glanced darkly to Fritz. Still, he nodded his head in thanks and, hands shaking, drank down the sticky substance. Fritz likewise followed suit, as he was starting to feel dizzy. It was as vile as before, if somewhat sweeter. Immediately the serum set to work, and his bones burned coldly, perhaps more so than his previous imbibing. As his mind cleared, anger, annoyance and irrational frustration prickled over his body.

He could see the same was true of Toby as the man's brow creased and motes of dark red spat from his stomach. Fritz washed his mouth with his ever-filling flask of water as he wrestled with the sudden rage. Toby also drank from a flask of his own, though not before palming a pill into his mouth.

"Speaking of charity," Fritz said, flexing his hand and seizing on Mortal Edge's hilt.

"Could I ask more of that from you?"

"What's that?" Craig asked, eyeing him evilly.

"I want to ask a favour," Fritz said.

"Really?" Craig asked.

"What is it that you want exactly?"

"A pause to this mentoring," Fritz said.

"For a week or two."

"No can do," Craig said simply.

"Nightshark's orders."

"Then can we move the mentoring to the drowned district?" Fritz asked.

"Why would we want to do that?" Craig asked. Then he came to some conclusion.

"Ah! Right. How could I forget? Your lover is leaving for the Spire. Did you promise to protect all his whores and thieves while he was gone?"

"Lover?" Toby blurted.

"Sid Smiles," Craig elaborated.

"You know him right?"

"I do, but... Sid and..." Toby trailed off and looked to the stoic, almost arrogantly postured, Fritz.

"Really?" He asked with some incredulity. When Fritz didn't dispute the accusation, Toby blinked, then shrugged as if the revelation were a surprise, but not a great one. Fritz narrowed his eyes at the too-mild reaction.

"I could do as you ask, but what's in it for me?" Craig asked, a greedy grin sliding onto his face.

"What do you want?" Fritz asked. Craig's glanced over him, his gaze soon resting on Mortal Edge.

"Give us the knife. I wouldn't mind that in my collection," he said. Fritz hesitated.

"That's a steep price." Craig shrugged.

"It's a steep ask. Nightshark won't be too happy."

"She won't?" Fritz asked innocently.

"No, she won't be. But that's not my trouble, it'll be yours," Craig said.

"I'm just meant to teach you a few tricks. I'm not your minder. So, want to trade me the knife?"

"I can't part with this one, but I have another dagger just as rare. Maybe more so," Fritz said. Craig squinted, then spat to the side.

"Bring it tomorrow. If it's as good as you say then we may have a deal." Fritz nodded, he didn't want to part with anything he had earned, but he had to keep his oath.

"Right, I'm done with you two for tonight. Go get those scratches seen to, then go back to your wardbreaking books," Craig said, waving the two away. The both of them were all too happy to comply with the dismissal and slipped out of the warehouse. They trudged, too beaten and bloody to take to the roofs. Craig trailed them from a distance, secreted in his cloak of shadows. Fritz coughed, adding a small, choking whine that served as a hidden warning to his current companion.

One that told him that they weren't alone.

"Do you have to keep turning up, late?" Toby groused.

"Half these cuts are your fault."

"They're the fault of your lacking skill," Fritz retorted.

"If you could dodge properly you wouldn't be nearly as wounded. And I'm sure your woman will fix you up good. After she's done with me, the superior specimen I am."

"You're the same arrogant arsehole as ever," Toby grumbled.

"And you're the same miserable prick," Fritz replied. Toby staggered, slipping slightly on a loose stone that he then kicked down the street. He cursed, but that was the last he had to say. They continued, both wearing their ill moods on their sleeves. The gangs, loitering in alleys or outside gambling dens, noticed this and their blood-stained clothes and gave them a wide berth. Though it was more the name of Toby Blades that rode on their fearful voices. Fritz wasn't even mentioned.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. It was to be expected, he had spent as little time as was possible in the Sunken Ring since he'd escaped it. And without him there to remind the other ruffians of his face and fearsome nature, what meagre notoriety he had scraped together was doomed to dwindle. He didn't know quite how to feel about it. His reputation down here in the districts used to be a matter of life or death.

Without the backing of his gang and boss, Kind Ron, he would have been dead and drowned long before he had the ostensible honour of being fed to the Sunken Spire. Though, the thought that he could so easily be forgotten, as just another dead gutter rat never to be seen again, was also liberating, if bitter. Fritz sighed and Toby glowered.

"What?" He spat.

"Nothing, just ruminating," Fritz said.

"Ruminating?"

"Thinking."

"About what?"

"Nothing important." Toby grumbled a curse, one that made a rough-looking passerby pale, then cross the street.

"What did you do to be so feared?" Fritz asked.

"Respected," Toby corrected.

"Right, that man nearly soiled himself out of respect," Fritz said blandly. Toby chuckled, but soon his face was again settled into a frown.

"I've been doing some jobs here and there. Enforcer stuff. Had to show a couple of small-time bosses not to bother me. Was a little too rough on one particular bastard and he died. That's what's got them scared of me." Fritz nodded.

"I've had jobs too," he commiserated, "Though I've been out collecting, not partaking in thuggery. And I suppose my menacing has been rather mild. I prefer words to weaponry."

"I've noticed," Toby said.

"Never one to shut up."

"Better that than plant a knife in a man's back," Fritz said.

"It was his throat. But you're still too soft, Fritz," Toby chided. They bickered for another couple of minutes, each prodding and poking at each other's egos until their annoyance had reached a fever pitch. Without Bert or Jane to intercede they nearly came to blows. They hadn't got along before and some things stayed the same. Or perhaps it was the lingering effects of the serum. Fritz was sure now that heightened anger was one of the side effects.

Knowing that, he was the first to hold his tongue, letting a wicked slight about him and Sid slide.

"What, nothing to say?" Toby asked.

"Nothing," Fritz said.

"Though I'll tell him you said so when I see him next."

"If he doesn't die in the Mer Spire," Toby said, still trying to taunt him. It seemed whatever remedy he had taken wasn't as effective as Moonsilvered bones.

"If you survived, Sid will," Fritz stated, fully confident, even if the niggling worry of doubt gnawed at the edge of his gut. A flash of confusion then, concern flew over Toby's face and he rubbed at his temple. He had obviously remembered he was talking to his saviour and had realised just how belligerent he was being.

"Right, yeah," Toby said, letting the argument rest. Eventually, the pressure of the looming presence behind them receded. Fritz signed that he no longer sensed Craig following them, as he had been for at least nine minutes. Toby glanced up and down, seeing no birds or vermin following them in a suspicious manner he leant in close and spoke.

"Sorry about before," he whispered.

"Wasn't myself." Fritz nodded and replied quietly.

"It was the serum." Toby grimaced and they walked further in silence they were close to the hidden house of healing when he ventured a question.

"You're not giving him one of those daggers are you?" Toby asked, referencing the Treasures he had stripped from his former team.

"Gods, no," Fritz said.

"I have another dagger."

"Right, I'd hate to see you give up that one anyway," Toby said, motioning at Mortal Edge.

"I don't think anyone in Rain City could treat a wound from that blade, ""The King likely could," Fritz said.

"Well, you're not likely to stab the King are you?" Toby mocked.

"Of course not," Fritz stated vehemently. A chill and a thrill ran down his spine at the thought of even approaching the man. He shivered.

"It was a joke, idiot. Don't look so eager," Toby said, making his way to the heavy door. From there, he knocked at the door and was let past the wall and into the building. When Jane saw the state of Toby, she fussed and worried. She brutally berated Fritz, thinking that he was to blame for some of the wounds, but was saved by an honest retelling from the subtly slurring man. He was seen to first, to both Fritz's chagrin and Toby's protests.

She was having none of it, her love would always come before all others and they all knew that. Fritz wasn't neglected, he also received magical healing for all of his cuts as Toby had. He just had to wait. He didn't complain too much, especially after Jane informed him that usually her healing, both mundane and magical, was worth gold and he was receiving it for free. After he'd been seen to, he gingerly left the premises, deciding to use more of the night to study wardbreaking.

Toby stayed behind, making mention that he would join him in an hour or two, 'once the agitation had worn off and he could concentrate'. Jane was mighty pleased that she'd be able to spend more of the night with him, though was less enthused when they explained about the serum's after-effects. She huffed and said she'd look into this 'Blood Serum', and make sure it was what Craig had claimed it was.

Fritz entered Wardbreakers Den and, pulling a book off a shelf, began to read. He had many hours before dawn arrived and study was a fine way to pass them, considering his ragged state. He stared down at the glyphs, inscribed, overlayed and interlinked at odd angles. The glossary he was reading had warned that the symbols and circles were difficult to decipher even if they shared similarities to normal writing. In common parlance each glyph had a meaning, representing a word or concept.

It was triply so with these more esoteric, magical runes that made up the language of enchanting glyphs. Their meanings were more subtle, the implications deeper and when they were arrayed in lines or circles their whole substance could change. While memorising the copious and complex glyphs was a headache and a half it was the arranging of such runes, lines and circles that really gave him difficulty. These arrangements were known as grammars and were the true obstacle when learning wards.

Each grammar had its own rules and uses. Wards, for example, used internally runed circles, interlocking lines and short, strict script, while empowering enchantments tended towards longer, flowing curves and expressive inscription. That wasn't to say all grammars were the same, in fact, most had little to do with each other, even within their own specialities. The tome on flame warding, Kel'Davon's Infernious Inscriptions, had been almost entirely dissimilar to the water-aligned ones he and Toby were set to study.

Though the structure of a ward was much the same, the glyphs and runes had slight changes to how they were written, the dots, lines and curves had a slant to them that could only be intentional and integral to their mystical manifestations. He had compared two ward designs from each book, each proclaimed itself an alarm, set to react when an intruder or object passed through their projected detection field. He discovered that they resembled each other as much as a cat would a hound.

That is to say, they had some things in common, but their appearance and the way they actually functioned were different enough to be another beast entirely. The fact that there were so many ways to produce the same effect with a completely different set of glyphs was maddening. It left him with so many questions as to why they worked the way they did, or if there was some kind of underlying logic they were all adhering to in their own odd ways.

The authors of the books were no help, they had many of the same questions, and they answered them with esoteric, often contradictory, theories. Trying to understand even one grammar could take years of study. And yet Craig wanted him to learn it in less than a month. He cursed the vile cut-throat under his breath, but redoubled his efforts. It was frustrating in the extreme.

Fritz normally may have been interested in delving into the dubious philosophies and possible implausibilities, he just didn't have the time or the resources to do so. He had to simply take the glyphs and arrangements at face value without truly understanding how it all connected or corresponded to the underlying principles of enchanting. Hours passed. Toby arrived and nodded a greeting before he sat and started to study alongside him.

As they read they traded insights and leant on each other's own knowledge and revelations. If it were simply himself alone Fritz wouldn't have realised many small things about the placement of the runes, and Toby wouldn't have realised the importance of how and why to connect the glyphs in certain circuitous ways. It was important for the runes to flow, for the magic to move through them like a river. Something Fritz had a certain eye for even if he didn't quite understand it himself.

He didn't know if they were talented, or even competent, but they were rarely stymied, and when they were it wasn't for long.

"I'm not made for this," Toby groused, closing his book a little too forcefully.

"I'm afraid the same is true for me," Fritz sighed, likewise closing his own tome and rubbing at his eyes.

"Really? You were the one who was on the lookout for books. And you insisted we learn to read," Toby reminisced.

"I was sure this would be right up your alley."

"A book here and there is all well and good, but this intense study is an anathema to my very soul," Fritz espoused.

"Huh," Toby said, sounding surprised.

"What?" He shrugged.

"Just thought that common interest was how you and Sid, uh, coupled." Fritz frowned.

"No, it was something else. Bravery, boldness, beauty, ambition. Honestly... Sid's heroic."

"What are you talking about? He's a rough thug through and through," Toby said.

"A vicious murderer. Leaving alleys full of bodies, blood everywhere. It doesn't take a genius to know Sid is the Scarlet Storm."

"Since when do you hold murder against someone?" Fritz asked, a scathing note to his tone.

"I don't, but he's mad Fritz. Madder than you," Toby said.

"Maybe that's what ties you two." Fritz glared and Toby sighed, raising his hands in surrender.

"Sorry, I got carried away again."

"Right," Fritz said.

"Are you going to protect his territory like Cutter said?" Toby asked.

"That's correct, Bert and I will do what we can," Fritz said.

"Do you want help?" Toby asked.

"Are you offering such?" Fritz asked.

"I am," Toby said.

"But I can't speak for Jane."

"You just said he was a vicious murder and a madman. Why would you want to help him?" Fritz challenged.

"I'm not helping him. I'm helping you," Toby said darkly. Though Fritz still felt the man wasn't to be trusted fully, he needed all the strength he could muster. It was also true that his grudge was fading, spending as much time with Toby as he had been was sanding away the edges of his bitter memories. So with a nod, Fritz accepted.

"As long as you follow my commands," he demanded.

"Same as a Spire then?" Toby smirked.

"Yes, Sir, Captain."

"Out here it's Lord Hightide, peasant," Fritz said, tilting his chin arrogantly.

"Whatever you say, Fritz," Toby said with a low chuckle.

"Let's get going then, I have to collect Bert and meet Sid by dawn," Fritz announced, standing from his seat.

"Follow me."

When Fritz opened Bert's door it was to find the man in a mess of sheets along with not one but two other figures. One was Rosie, one scaled leg hung over the bed. The other was some athletic individual, a stranger, likely another ring fighter from the looks of their bruised knuckles. It wasn't an unsurprising sight, but one that annoyed Fritz nonetheless. He didn't like unknown persons in his house and suspected the others wouldn't either.

"Bert," Fritz called, stirring the sleepers. All three woke quickly, staring about and seemingly ready to brawl judging from the swiftly raised fists.

"Fritz, what's wrong?" Bert asked.

"Oh, it's just Fritz," Rosie yawned. She blinked blindly in the dark and asked, "Did you want to join in?"

"No, thank you," Fritz replied smoothly.

"Bert, we're needed. Get dressed, I'll meet you outside."

"Alright, be right there," Bert agreed. His companions grumbled, but he merely grinned and nakedly leapt from the bed. Fritz closed the door, leaving him to go change into something less slashed up himself. Fritz threw his cut clothing into a basket with some other garments that were similarly rent and torn. He had been meaning to have them sewn back together, but hadn't had the time. He reminded himself that he really should visit that tailor again. If only to check the progress of their sirensilk garments.

Changing into some of the last, and ugliest, of his clothes, Fritz made his way downstairs and outside, then waited for Bert. He didn't take too long. Bert wore his self-repairing vest and pants and his skin was covered in bruises, blue and yellow. He let out a surprised, "Toby!" When he saw the man lurking in the shadows.

"Bert, good to see you," Toby replied.

"You look like you've been trampled by a horse and then its carriage. Did you fight tonight?"

"Yup, won it easily," Bert said proudly.

"Yeah, I've heard you're a menace down there in the ring," Toby said"I am a menace in many places," Bert claimed with a wink. Toby chuckled and Fritz sighed wearily.

"He's coming with us?" Bert asked, turning to Fritz.

"That's right, he wants to help out," he replied.

"Okay then," Bert said.

"What are we waiting for?"

"Nothing," Fritz said.

"Let's go meet Sid."