Chương 238: Arc 4 - Chapter 40

Six-hundred-and-twelve gold, ninety-six silver and seven-hundred-and-four copper triads. That was the meagre sum House Hightide's wealth amounted to. It was both a ready relief and a dread disappointment. Though it was enough that his House wasn't at the brink of destitution, their position was still precarious. And Fritz had a Climb to fund and a debt to pay. A large debt that was due by the next Tolling.

Despite his double share from the Mer Spire haul and his well-placed wagers on his own victory in his duels yielding a great windfall, the cruelly cumulative costs of his estate, servants, tutorage, food, furniture, arms and armour had drained much from his vault. Just over three-hundred gold triads spent, if the ledger before him was correct. Jess and Lauren assured him it was. He didn't doubt them, but he still scanned the rows and columns drawn on those thick pages.

High-quality paper, he complained inwardly, another expense. To his dismay, many of the entries were written in his own hand. Minor amounts, a few gold here and there, and sometimes as much as ten or twenty triads. Fritz stared at the lines and glyphs, hoping they had been forged. The alternative would reveal a terrible lack of care for his prospective prosperity and a distinct lack of caution that would certainly lead him into the squandering of his fortune.

Alas, he recognised the flourishes in those glyphs as his own. He nearly cursed, but under the apprehensive stare of Jess and the keen gaze of Lauren, he instead cast his features with stern confidence and furrowed his brow with a considered concern.

"Hmm," he said, turning the pages of the ledger until he reached the last page that had been inked. There were a few entries caught his eye, several sums that amounted to one-hundred-and-sixty-three gold triads. Beside them, in way of explanation were the following words. Horse, stable, stable hand, carriage, saddles, brushes, bits and bridles. Fritz stopped reading when he glanced over the listed cost of six sacks of feed. One triad each, six whole gold. Anger bubbled. How could they possibly waste so much coin?

And for what? A trifle? Still, rather than lay out some accusations, he thought he'd allow them to explain these unauthorised and unneeded expenses. He owed them that much grace. Fritz raised his eyes, narrowing them only slightly.

"House Hightide purchased a carriage?" he asked smoothly.

"Yes, and a fine horse to pull it," Lauren said, straightening her back.

"And it was high time it did."

"And what use does it have of such a frivolity?" Fritz demanded.

"It's no frivolity, it's a necessity up here in the Palace Ring," Lauren said.

"How is that so?"

"For one: it's time saved, and for two: it's appearances maintained. You can't truly expect everyone to walk half an hour to the Upper Ring, then half an hour back for the simplest of errands," Lauren said.

"It doesn't take that long," Fritz argued.

"It does if the gates are busy, and if the guards are inspecting our permissions," Jess said.

"What's an hour of walking?" Fritz said.

"I've had to walk. Hours and hours through half-flooded streets, and it did me no harm. The struggle builds strength."

"It does in the Spires, but out here it's only struggle for the sake of struggle. Nothing gained, save blisters and bitter resentment," Lauren said.

"Would you really have your siblings be seen to walk everywhere like paupers. Would you resign them to the ridicule of the peerage? What would that say of House Hightide?" Fritz bit back a cold retort, pausing to consider what the woman had brought to light. He eventually came to the reluctant conclusion that she was right and that his miserly instincts born of poverty had led him astray. That part of him still scrabbled and scratched within his chest, clawing, grasping at the already spent gold.

It found it absurd and infuriating to spend such a fortune on what it thought a luxury.

"Still, nearly two-hundred gold for a carriage? That could have gone instead to a Treasure or healing potions," Fritz asked, allowing his irritation to spill into his voice.

"That gold spent properly in preparation could mean someone's life in a Spire." Jess gripped her skirts nervously, and Lauren raised one eyebrow.

"If it really were life and death, you would borrow from a lender," she replied.

"Why would they lend to me? A fledgling team yet to prove their true worth," Fritz questioned.

"What on Epsa do you mean? You're a noble," she reminded him.

"And you have plenty of collateral. When Fritz stared at her blankly for a second, she continued, "The estate..."

"Oh... right," he said, disconcerted that he hadn't thought of that himself. It was obvious as to why; he didn't want to risk losing his home again. Leading his family back to those streets he'd only just escaped would be beyond a disgrace. It would be too shameful to bear.

"I couldn't."

"You could," Jess said.

"Your title allows you considerable leverage in such arrangements."

"I won't," Fritz said.

"Not unless it's necessary."

"Of course," Jess said.

"Though you should keep it in mind. As you said, that borrowed gold could be spent on safety." Fritz nodded. Though he was loath to be indebted further, it wasn't an awful idea.

"If needs arise, I'll think on it." The argument lulled, and Fritz returned his gaze to the ledger. He stared at the offending tallies. The red ink of culled coin mocked him, but he no longer felt much heat or loss. It was as Lauren had said, he couldn't have those of his House appear to be destitute nor its members resemble beggars. Truly, he should be spending more on his siblings and himself, if only to avoid the vicious gossip and vile rumours that circled a noble family on the edge of ruin.

Be it in the highest of houses or the lowest of gutters, reputation mattered. Sure, the 'high' society would still whisper of his House's debt to the King, and Fritz's apparent and appalling bouts of sickness, but a smattering spent on comforts and appearances would spare Amathea and Elliot the worst of those cruel words and disdainful, sneering smiles.

"There's another matter," Jess said.

"As per your written wishes, the rent of the property you own in the districts has been halted. Perhaps, if you're worried about your income, you should reinstate them." Fritz thought about it for a moment before shaking his head.

"I'll not do that. Those who dwell there can barely afford food. I've suffered starvation, I've endured nearly a decade as a vagabond. I won't inflict that deprivation upon others, not while I have the means to alleviate it. Also, I made a promise, and it would be... wrong to break it. And even if I did, what would it gain me, a handful of silver and copper?"

"Well, as benevolent as that is, your properties, that is to say, the nearly a hundred feasibly-livable rooms and the few stores that have sprung up in the larger buildings, should be earning you plenty more than that. Even if you set the rents low, as 'one-silver-steals', as the saying goes, you should be collecting more than thirty gold triads a month. Which, over the thirteen months of the year, would add up to almost four-hundred gold triads." Fritz blinked. That was far more than he had imagined.

Or rather, it was more than he allowed himself to consider. A greed, one he'd buried deep, crawled up. He shook it away, he meant what he had said. He couldn't countenance plunging those who had just found a reprieve from their poverty right back into the gutters. That, and he had friends there. Allies, too.

"I'll consider it," he hedged.

"When the conditions have improved." Jess's brow furrowed, but she nodded all the same. Fritz inspected the ledger further, looking for any unusual or out-of-place expenses. He even pulsed his Awareness to uncover any hidden patterns. There were none. It was not that he was expecting any duplicity from the women. They were diligent, and it was obvious that they were honest in their accounting. However, one could never be too careful when it came to gold.

It only took him a few minutes to discern his Houses prospects if kept on his current course. Those prospects, as made apparent by the abundance of red ink, were declining. It was a slow trickle, but a trickle was a leak nonetheless. One that would widen and sink his House if not remedied. Still, he had time, and he would have more than one chance to earn more gold. He could take triads rather than Treasures the next time he Climbed the Sunken Spire. He also had a Treasure to ransom.

The white sabre he'd claimed from the defeated Lord Whiteship. With a slow exhalation, he lifted his gaze to the two women. They sat quietly, hand in hand. Lauren squeezed Jess's fingers between her own, reassuring her.

"All seems to be in order, you've both done well," Fritz said. Jess's shoulders lost some of their stiffness, and she smiled. Lauren simply nodded, as if she knew how he'd respond to the state of his finances.

"And your own fortunes, and the teams? They are separate, are they not?" Fritz asked.

"Quite correct," Jess said.

"The team's store of triads amounts to just under a hundred gold, and they each have their own chests and accounts in the vault. I have impressed upon them that they should make note of their own expenditures, if only to make their own lives easier, though I doubt they all will." Fritz nodded.

"If I may, I have a suggestion," Jess continued.

"Go on," Fritz allowed.

"You should revise the contract and terms of your Climbing team," she said.

"If they, that is to say we, are to live in your estate and eat at your table, you should be entitled to a greater share of your Climb's bounties. You should also be demanding board." Fritz glanced to Lauren, who nodded.

"I've spoken to the others about this," she said.

"They find it more than fair. As do I. And it will stymie some of the losses you're incurring."

"Good... good," he said, glad he wasn't required to engage in arguments or run around coin chasing.

"I will have your advocate prepare the documents," Jess said.

"Is that really needed?" Fritz asked.

"Surely a spoken oath should suffice?"

"You are a noble, and so you should do these things lawfully," Jess chided gently.

"And paper, ink and wax holds longer than an uttered oath." Fritz wanted to sigh, but instead acquiesced to her recommendations with a smile. If he were being honest, he didn't want to be bothered with all this administration. Important as it may be, it drained his spirit and strained the steel of his resolve. And it was boring, boring work that only laid weight upon weight on his already heavy shoulders.

This is why he'd brought Jess onto the team as their Quartermaster, and already she'd lifted part of his burden and found some ways to aid him, his House and his team to swim in these murky waters. There were a few more matters of the estate to address, but they were mundane things, some further repairs and acquisitions, easily solved and simply needing Fritz's approval and seal to proceed. Lastly, Lauren offered a suggestion herself.

Although it didn't pertain to income or expenses, it was on a subject that was just as important, if not more so. Fritz's family.

"You have noticed this yourself, and as I mentioned earlier, there has been some conflict between your siblings and the team. You'll need to speak with Thea and Elliot about their self-entitlement, expectations and their sense of superiority. It rankles on us common folk, especially those of us who have survived a Spire and have earned power enough to burn them away on a whim. Not that we would, mind you." Fritz frowned.

"Powerful or not, they are nobility. They are entitled and due all the respect that entails." She smiled wryly.

"And how much respect is that?" Fritz glowered for a moment.

"As much as you would afford me." Lauren tilted her head forward in a nod.

"And so I have. Others, however, have flaunted any such standards. It shouldn't surprise you, but Bert and Rosie are the main offenders. You'll have to warn them off their most discourteous and improper behaviours."

"The display at breakfast, the insults thrown, it shouldn't be allowed," Jess added indignantly.

"It is a disgrace. I know they are your friends and your trusted team, but there are limits that must be observed. If not, I fear that this House will degrade into a den of ill-repute." Though Fritz wanted to defend Bert with all his heart, he knew that his blood-brother had a wild soul. One that summoned storms and could erode the patience of even the calmest kind. The young and the noble weren't renowned for tolerance. It was inevitable that they would clash.

He wished they wouldn't, and had hoped they could all live peacefully. Together, just as he had dreamed. Alas. Fritz nodded slowly.

"I understand. I will speak to them."

"Thank you," Jess said.

"I don't dislike any of them, not truly, but it has been a sore trial for all of us." Fritz smiled politely, his eyes distant, remembering the suffering he'd endured in the Spires. What did they know of trials? What did they know of pain? He pushed down the bitter thoughts. They had suffered. Not in the same way, not to the same extent. But they had suffered. They'd all lost parents, they'd all wept and raged. They'd all been wounded and left to heal or fester. Left drowning.

"Fritz," Lauren called, spurring him from his stupor.

"Yes?"

"Are you well?" she asked.

"Well enough," he replied.

"We're here for you, Francis," Jess said, reaching across his desk and laying a hand on his. It had been shaking.

"Very bold, Ms. Redoubt," Lauren said drily, her smile more a smirk. Jess reproached her with an irritated glance before squeezing Fritz's hand once and letting go. Lauren then leaned across the desk and echoed the gesture, grasping his hand gently.

"She's right, we are here for you. You can come to us if you need help."

"My thanks," Fritz said hoarsely. The room was quiet for a few moments, then he cleared his throat. and asked, "Is there anything else?" Lauren pulled her warm hand away, sitting back. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

"There is another matter, and likely the last," she stated, her politely detached demeanour reasserted.

"It has to do with appointing a broker. That is someone to represent your House's interests in the Treasury when you are indisposed. Climbing or otherwise."

"I remember," Fritz said.

"I suppose you would be the finest choice, seeing as you, as a merchant's daughter, are learned in bartering and bargaining and have displayed a keen eye for quality." She smiled prettily.

"Quite so. Though I have never desired the responsibility, I am the most qualified. For now, at least. So I will lend you my expertise until we find someone more suited."

"Are you sure? You've mentioned you chafed under such obligations before," Fritz asked.

"I'm sure."

"And how do we go about appointing you as a broker for House Hightide? Another contract?" Fritz guessed.

"That's correct, one that must be signed and sealed in person at the Treasury," she stated. Fritz nodded.

"Very well, we'll leave after lunch."

"Today?" Lauren asked.

"Today. While I am present we should set these important matters into motion," Fritz said.

"As you say," Lauren agreed. Quiet fell upon the room, and it appeared that all the major concerns had been addressed. Fritz closed the ledger, setting it on top of the other tomes that hadn't been needed. They were the more intricate records of servants' wages, food procurement and estate maintenance and didn't interest Fritz in the slightest.

He had glanced over them, but found them both meticulous and tedious in equal measure, which, considering Jess's diligence to the very smallest detail, made them perfectly dull and accurate. He trusted that as much as he trusted his Awareness. Fritz pushed the bulky books to the edge of his desk, then signed that the two women were free to leave. Jess stood, followed by Lauren. Just as Jess reached for the books, Fritz glanced down at his letters and remembered they needed revision.

He halted her with a gesture and enlisted her help with a charming, if weary, smile.

"I require some advice on these messages, invitations and requests. And a hand and mind with a better command of courtesy than my own."

"I'm happy to help," Jess agreed easily.

"Thank you."

"I'll take my leave then," Lauren said, curtsying. Fritz nodded, then tasked her with a small quest.

"Could you send my siblings to me? I'll heed your advice on allowing them to appear at these balls and banquets in my stead and want to inform them of their new duties."

"I'll do as you ask," she said, taking her leave with a swift turn and a swish of her skirts. That left Fritz and Jess to pore over, what was soon explained to be, ill-worded and plainly rude letters. Thankfully, she illuminated him as to where he had erred, red circles and slashes abounded, with the occasional addition of a corrective note. Then she re-wrote the letters, making clear why she made the changes she did. There was a decorous finesse to her wordage, one that Fritz could only admire.

And when she was done, he held her in even higher respect than he had before. It was her easy way of teaching, the soft vigour of her speech. She encouraged and challenged. And when he looked into her pretty face and dark brown eyes, deep enough to drown in, he could see her kindness. When he praised her for her skill and knowledge, she smiled, and it was like a lantern was lit. Her presence was a soothing balm. Fritz could see now why Cal was smitten with her. They weren't left long alone.

Amathea appeared in the doorway with a slight cough and a raised eyebrow. She wore a long-sleeved dress of black velvet, the hem and cuffs of which were embroidered with silver thread. It looked to be new and it suited her well. She glanced between the two of them, both sitting behind Fritz's desk, closer than was strictly proper. Their legs were almost touching, and Jess was stooped over a page, her shoulder brushed his, and the neckline of her pale blouse had become an arresting window.

Jess stared up, then straightened swiftly.

"Lady Hightide!"

"Amathea," Fritz said, inclining his head and waving her forward.

"I'm not interrupting? Am I?" she teased, a twinkle in her eye and a smile that said she would be gossiping about what she had seen as soon as she was released.

"Absolutely not," Jess protested, moving her chair away with a wooden screech.

"Nothing of the sort," Fritz agreed.

"Remember, I invited you to join me."

"And charged Lauren with it," she said.

"She complained about being treated as an errand boy."

"Really? Did I earn much ire?" Thea shook her head.

"She didn't sound too displeased. Merely whining for the sake of whining, I suspect. She's not so proud as to reject a request, though is so proud as to appear willing to fulfil it. I find she's much like a cat." Jess laughed at that.

"She is! And it's not that, she's also finicky in both taste and temper. And can well hold a grudge, though not her liquor." Thea tittered.

"I haven't heard that last bit, though it brings to mind a small scheme."

"Oh? What are you plotting?"

"Well-""You know, we could get a cat. A real one, I mean," Fritz mused, interrupting any devious devising.

"That would be delightful," Thea said excitedly.

"We weren't allowed pets at the orphanage, and I've always wanted one. Elliot, too. Though he won't admit it."

"Well, Lauren and I have some business at the Treasury after lunch. If you come with us, we could visit the thoroughfare markets too, find you both a kitten, a pair if we're fortunate." Thea beamed.

"I would love that." It was true, bright motes jumped and sparkled around her.

"Though... is that why you called for me?"

"No, it's not," Fritz said.

"However, that should wait until Elliot arrives, it saves me repeating myself. Take a seat." Thea nodded, then strode into the room and sat in front of the desk. At first, she pretended not to look at the letters stacked on the wood, but soon she was peering over them with keen interest. Fritz smirked; he shared that same curious streak. He cleared his throat, and her eyes rose to his face. She gave him a sheepish smile.

"Invitations?" she asked. Fritz nodded.

"Plenty, take a look." Thea, needing no further encouragement, began to pick through the letters, scanning their contents swiftly and sorting them into two separate piles. One was apparently for those of the peerage that could be safely snubbed with a polite response, and the other was for those esteemed nobles whose events should absolutely be attended. If only for appearances' sake, and not the added benefits of their support, both political and fiscal. While she did so, Eliot entered the room.

He was quick on his feet, and his cheeks were tinged pink, and motes of embarrassment floated in his wake. Fritz suspected his brother had made a fool of himself when Lauren had spoken to him. Normally, he would have teased him a little, but he forewent it. He wanted to mend the cracks between them, not widen them. On that note, he stood and waved his brother closer. Once Elliot had moved to stand beside Thea's chair, Fritz cleared his throat.

"First of all, let me apologise for this morning. It wasn't right for me to allow insults and ill-mannered behaviour at the dining table, or anywhere in the household. It has come to my attention that I have neglected my duties to you and my team. I should have introduced you to each other in a more thorough manner and set some rules for proper conduct. Somewhat foolishly, I had assumed that you would all see the good qualities I see in each of you and would become fast friends.

Or if that was impossible, amiable acquaintances. And there I was mistaken." Elliot appeared taken aback by the words, surprised by the contrition in Fritz's tone. Thea, too, hadn't expected such forthright speech. That was a mite irksome.

"However, not all the fault lies directly at my feet; there is blame to be shared all around. Rosie and Bert have been crude and churlish, and I will set them right. And you two, my very family, have slighted my team, my guests, with your haughty views, voiced fully though you know they are my trusted friends. You think you are better than them because of your noble birth, but I will tell you now that it is not so, not until you've proven it in a Spire. You will respect them, as you will respect me in my own home."

Though that half of the speech was more intended for Elliot, Thea shrank in her chair, shame dripping and a pride-pricked affront attempting to poke through those viscous strands. Elliot himself was another matter. He was angry, he was in pain, and jealousy, envy and pride each fought for the air around him.

"I'm sorry," Fritz stated.

"It had to be said. I want there to be peace among us."

"Peace? We have had no peace since you returned," Elliot said, clenching the hilt of his rapier.

"It has been one upheaval after another. Violence and vulgarity run rampant, and you abscond to who knows where, giving our House over to commoners while you cavort." Though Fritz rankled at the accusation, he'd already heard this from his brother, and it stung little.

"Cavort? Really?" Fritz asked, then shook his head.

"And as for those commoners, they are well suited to attending to the affairs of this House in my absence."

"You should have asked us first. We have that right," Elliot said.

"You should have," Amathea agreed.

"We are well educated, we are your family, and we could have done what needed to be done without the need of strangers."

"It is because you don't trust us. I'm your brother, yet you have never sought my opinion on any matters. Not even those that pertain to me," Elliot added.

"It's not because I don't trust you. It's that you're not of age," Fritz said seriously.

"It's too much to put on your shoulders."

"Let us decide that for ourselves," Thea pleaded, standing up with her hands clasped in front of her.

"Let us help."

"No, you should focus on your studies and swordsmanship while you have the freedom to do so."

"We are not your puppets, we have our own lives," Elliot said, his eyes wet with stifled tears.

"We want to have a say in them. I just want you to talk to me." Hearing the hurt in his brother's voice, Fritz's shoulders wilted minutely, and he sighed.

"You're right, of course. Perhaps, in my wholehearted desire to protect you, I had forgotten you were... I just... I just don't want you to suffer as I have." Though his Dusksong was held tight, it leaked into his tone. His voice echoed with starvation, deprivation and longing. It was a shadow of what he'd endured, but real enough to set his siblings reeling. Thea sat hard, eyes distant and pained. Elliot's hand fell from his sword, and he reached for his heart. Fritz grimaced and pushed the magic down.

"I'm sorry," he said. There was a sniffle, and Jess, whom he had forgotten was still there, wiped some tears from her cheeks with a handkechief. He regretted keeping the woman in the room, although she was close to their family and like an older sister to Elliot and Amathea; she shouldn't be witness to this discord. Fritz sighed and ran a hand over his face.

"Francis," Jess said weepily.

"They can help." She motioned to the letters. Though that had been his intention all along, the offer would now look like a concession and a gift. It was a subtle bit of trickery, and he could have kissed her for it. He didn't.

"Alright," he said, sighing another sigh.

"If you want to help raise our House. There are some events I am not prepared to commit to, not with my difficult schedule. I wish for you both to attend in my stead." Elliot's hand fell to his side.

"What kind of events?"

"Balls, banquets, all manner of social clubs," Fritz said.

"Before that, can you tell us why your schedule is so 'difficult'?" Thea asked.

"Where are you going? What are you doing? Why is it more important than us?" Her voice grew quieter and sadder, until the last words were little more than a morose whisper.

"I can't tell you, it's a terrible secret," Fritz said sincerely. A chill bloomed on his chest. When they looked at him with sour suspicion, he continued carefully,"I am beholden to a powerful person." The black mark began to freeze him, deeper than he'd ever felt before. He gasped as the cold stretched towards his heart, and he clutched at his chest. Falling to his knees, he pushed back on the icy tendril, attempting to wrestle it with his Control. The cold writhed right through, like worms between wet fingers.

Fritz's breath quickened, and his heart pounded. His eyes darted to the worried faces around him, but he soon focused his attention inward and racked his mind for any way out of his mistake. He'd finally said too much or skirted the edge too many times, and he was going to pay the price. All those chill warnings had only lulled him into a false sense of security, and he cursed his own foolishness. He abandoned such thoughts swiftly; there wasn't time for self-recrimination.

Fritz shivered, and his hands shook as his centre froze. His mind and soul leapt to wield his Eldritch Flame, but he stopped himself. Conjuring that evil fire would set him ablaze, and then it would spread. It would burn everything. Consume everything in the world, starting with his body and spirit, and his family and his house. Fritz denied it. Instead, he reached for Dusksong; that melody itself was cold, too, but it was his own coldness and slowed the approach of the foreign frost.

It wasn't enough; the cold couldn't replace the warm. Ice slithered around his heart, coiling around it like a serpent. Then it was about to bite deep, draining him of his last warmth. Fritz desperately searched through his pockets, his hands shaking. He reached for his sleeve, but he wasn't wearing his sirensilk shirt, and the cuff didn't hold his Slim Pocket. He stared at his fingers; they were white as marble.

A glint of gold and ruby caught his eye, and he Activated the Ring of Inner Fire, hoping that its name was not just a Spire's flourish. Heat, gentle yet dense, poured into him. The warmth slid from his finger, down his arm and soaked into his chest before stopping at the ice around his heart. There, the powers fought. It wasn't a violent clash of steam and sizzling, but a quiet opposition, an unclouded sun against old snow. The ice didn't melt; and it wouldn't fail in its quest to kill.

The cruel will of the curse dug deeper, its fangs thinned and sharpened. And that was what gave Fritz a chance to fight it off. Dusksong sang, the rhythmic beat sending shudders through the cold, driving it back one dark drumming at a time. Fritz could feel the heat of Inner Fire more keenly by the second, and the ice writhed with glacial spite, almost as cold as death. That wasn't cold enough to slay Fritz. Not when he'd suffered worse.

Every moment the curse weakened, it struggled, and every second Dusksong sang, its music grew quieter, until, after what could have been an hour or a day, the ice finally fled, speeding back to the foul mark. Fritz collapsed, falling forward, but was able to remain awake. Voices called to him, and hands touched upon his chill skin. He gasped in a deep breath, rolled onto his back and stared up at his terrified siblings.

"What's wrong? What's wrong? What's happening?" Thea asked in a panic.

"Why is he so cold?" Elliot asked the room, pulling his hand back from Fritz's wrist. Fritz tried to speak, and when he couldn't, signed his condition shakily.

"I'm fine. I'm fine. Light a fire. Freezing."

"A fire?" Elliot asked stupidly.

"What happened? Is this some sort of trick?"

"No trick," Fritz wheezed.

"Then what is this?"

"Secret, can't say."

"Won't say," Elliot challenged." Can't!" Fritz growled. Then something seemed to dawn on the idiot.

"A magical compulsion?" Fritz remained silent; the curse had fled, but he knew it was still there, biding its time, just as strong and thrice as vigilant, and his Dusksong was completely drained. He couldn't hope to repel it again. Lauren sprinted through the door and knelt by his side. Mana Sight's soft glow lit up her irises, and she stared down at him, her eyes catching on the black mark despite it being hidden under his shirt.

"There," she muttered, reaching for his buttons.

"No," Fritz said, pushing her warm hands away.

"Heat."

"Heat?"

"He's freezing," Thea said.

"Well, then light the fireplace," Lauren said.

"I... I...," Thea stammered.

"Right, yes," Elliot said, rushing to the empty hearth and throwing in some wood stacked nearby. He then patted himself down and cried, "I don't have any flint and steel."

"Oh, fine," Lauren huffed, then she turned and strode to the fireplace.

"Stand away." Elliot stared up, confused.

"Now." He scrambled away. Lauren breathed fire. With a whoosh and a flare of orange, the room brightened, and the air stirred searingly; papers fluttered, and the smell of wood-smoke pervaded. Elliot and Thea covered their eyes. Fritz attempted to crawl closer to the fire, his muscles cramped, shaking. A familiar bounding of feet thudded up the hall, and Bert was there, lifting him and helping him forward.

The touch sang comfort and light, and joyous relief filled him, and within a few seconds, he was before the fireplace.

"Thanks," Fritz groaned as he sat before the flames and revelled in the warmth. While he warmed himself, he answered what questions he could. Which was very few.

"Why not go to the King?" Elliot asked. Fritz shook his head, the Nightshark would have deadly plans in place for that. He could feel it.

"What if it was the King who did this to him?" Thea theorised. Fritz sighed.

"Leave it be, do not seek out my secrets. Death is all that awaits down that road. Just know that I have obligations and that I don't choose to disappear. And you should keep that secret, too. Say only that I am ill, convalescing. Slowly wasting away from my poisoning."

"It's true then?" Elliot asked aghast, paling.

"I have said as much at least three thousand times, have I not?"

"I just... I didn't... I do not know."

"You didn't trust me?" Fritz asked, giving a wryly wan smile.

"I did not," Elliot agreed.

"Smart man, I wouldn't either," Bert said, grinning. Fritz scoffed, though it came out in a hoarse hiss.

"Must you speak so brazenly!?" Elliot snapped.

"I must," Bert said.

"He must," Fritz agreed.

"But Bert, it won't kill you to show a little respect."

"You don't know that," Bert replied.

"Humour me, guard against your worst instincts, would you?"

"Without my worst instincts, what would I have left?" Bert asked incredulously.

"Nothing," Fritz said.

"But you would keep your fancy room."

"Are you threatening to cast me out into the cold and the rain? How cruel!" Bert dramatically lamented. Then he laughed.

"Guess I've got no choice, I'll be respectful... milord." The way he said milord was always grating, but Fritz coughed a chuckle. The giddiness that came with surviving a deadly peril was lightening his spirits, and he looked to Elliot with an honest smile. It was strained, but Elliot smiled back. Faintly, Fritz could see the ethereal thread between them; it flickered bloodily in the firelight. There was also one that led to Amathea, it was a more solid line, but Fritz didn't dwell on the difference.

In a moment of vertigo, his vision doubled. Another thread. It dissipated as his eyes cleared and the spinning stopped. He groaned and lay down. Jess, heaving and panting, ran into the room and, on seeing him there, wailed.

"Did you reach him in time?"

"Yes, Jess," Lauren said, striding to her side and placing a hand on her shoulder.

"He'll be fine."

"Oh, thank the gods," she exhaled.

"You saved him? Thank you, Lauren." She added, hugging the woman. Lauren didn't protest, nor did she correct her. Thea narrowed her eyes and was about to speak when another person peered into the room. Cal looked around worriedly, and George followed behind him. Lastly, Rosie pushed her way through the men blocking the door.

"Is he alright!? Was it assassins again!?" she shouted. It seemed the whole household had been made aware of his fall. The speed at which the news had spread irritated him. Though that prickling feeling was short-lived. He couldn't deny his gladness long. The team cared for him and had come running as soon as they heard he was in peril. What could he call that but loyalty, or perhaps, friendship?

"Assassins? Don't be stupid," Cal retorted.

"Illness," Elliot lied.

"He still has not recovered from his malady," he added, attempting to hide his distaste of stating falsehoods. It fooled no one. Well, no one, save Rosie.

"Ah," she said.

"Does he need a nurse? I can do that."

"No, he does not need a nurse," Thea said.

"And if he did, it wouldn't be you."

"Why not?" Rosie asked, pretending, badly, to be perplexed.

"Because you're disgusting."

"What? I would never try to seduce him on his sickbed," Rosie said.

"That's... that is not what I... what?" Thea asked, revolted.

"That is foul," Jess said, having broken her embrace and turned to the crude commotion.

"I'm not foul. Not any more, I'm pretty, and my scales are shiny," Rosie stated.

"Someone told me that my body turns many faces and that I'm slippery in all the right-""Rosie," Cal interrupted.

"Stop. For my sake. Stop."

"Fine." Thea just stood there, still horrified, a hand over her mouth, then she choked on a laugh. Elliot had an odd expression, mostly disgusted and embarrassed, though there was a hint of forbidden, youthful interest. Bert grinned and slapped Rosie on the shoulder. Jess and Lauren stared on disapprovingly. George simply smiled from the doorway.

"I'll be fine, thank you, Rosie," Fritz said, slowly sitting up.

"A small mistake on my part. Worry not, everyone."

"Alright," she said.

"You may all return to your errands and pastimes," Fritz said, waving them off.

"Elliot, Thea, stay a moment longer." They did as he asked. George nodded his farewell, Bert, then Rosie ran off and Jess and Lauren left hand in hand. Cal mentioned he wanted to speak about the garden and planting some trees, and Fritz promised him that they would, then he also left. When the room was quiet again, Fritz beckoned his siblings to sit with him before the fire. They joined him, there on the hard wood floor. They didn't speak of duties, balls and banquets.

Instead, Fritz talked with them and, upon some pointed questioning, told of his life in the gutters. This time, though, he was more honest about the wretched reality of survival in those scarce straits. They were, of course, appalled. He admitted to thievery, robbery, starving and all kinds of pretty crime. He wasn't proud of it, and he feared it would lessen him in their eyes, but they needed to know the lengths he'd gone to.

They needed to know the city was harsh outside the walls of the well-protected orphanage and their noble estate. Fritz avoided any tale in which he had to spill blood and did not speak of the murders he had wrought. It was one thing to be a thief, and another thing entirely to be a bloody-handed killer. He couldn't admit that darkness to them. He wasn't strong enough for that, and he doubted he ever would be. When he was done, he asked about their own lives in the orphanage.

Questions he had never asked due to his own preoccupation with his own struggles. He learnt much, then listened more. They had very different challenges to himself, and while their tales paled in comparison to the horrors of his own, they had also endured much of their own troubles. Ones he'd never think to ask about. Then they spoke on their parents, the estate and what they recalled of their early childhood.

Neither Amathea nor Elliot remembered as much as Fritz, but they each recollected fleeting moments and small stories the others had long forgotten. They laughed at times and wept at times, and that was a good thing. The fire burned down slowly, but eventually it was only embers, and the talk died. They sat in silence, ruminating and remembering. Their talk didn't fully bridge the rifts between them, but they felt nearer than ever. Close enough to touch. The lunch bell rang and the spell was broken.

They rose to eat. The dining table had a more jovial air than breakfast, one that cut the three Hightides free from their sober melancholy and pulled them from the distant past. Elliot even laughed at one of Bert's jokes while Thea chatted away with Lauren, George and Jess. It seemed that the household was on a new path, a more peaceful existence, but Fritz didn't dare say that aloud. That would be a sure way to curse it.

When they had eaten all they could, they left the dining hall, and Fritz prepared to ride out to the Treasury, which meant visiting the vault. His strength mostly recovered, he stored away his newest Treasures, heeding the order not to flaunt them openly. He wouldn't risk that, not after he'd endured the Nightshark's curse. Though he did hold onto the Ring of Inner Fire just in case, keeping it in his pocket rather than on his finger.

Fritz then took up the Whiteship sword, intending to appraise it so he knew how high to set its ransom. After that, he made his way to the main hall and waited. Jess and Lauren appeared first, then Thea and finally Elliot, whom Fritz had invited during lunch. With all present, it was finally time to visit the Treasury.