Chương 239: Arc 4 - Chapter 41

The carriage rolled down the pristine roads of the Palace Ring. Rain drummed on its roof, but those within couldn't hear it. That, Fritz knew, was the work of the runes hidden behind the interior woodwork. He begrudgingly admired the cabin as he sat between his siblings and across from Jess and Lauren. He had thought that the carriage would be packed tight, what with there being five passengers, but there was room enough for three to sit on each plush bench with a few inches between them.

The surprisingly spacious cabin was finely adorned, though a touch too decorous for his own sensibilities. What he couldn't fault, however, was the comfort it afforded. As he inspected the carriage closer, he came to see that it wasn't the luxurious liability that he had feared it would be. No, it wasn't an exquisite eyesore. It was well-made, robust and only adequately ornate for someone of his own station.

The curtains and cushioned surfaces were not cut of silk as the Royal carriage the king had sent for him had been, but instead were a light blue velvet, which was a reasonable compromise. And neither was the pale wood embellished with silver inlays or gilded trimmings. The quality, grain and hue of the timber spoke for itself. The carriage was larger and longer than he'd expected, and he wondered how a single horse could pull it with the seeming ease it did.

He had asked why this was the case and had received a convincing, if vague, explanation. Rain City bred horses for stubborn strength and the shine of their scales rather than speed. That, and the wood, sourced from the Rain Spire, as most was when it wasn't shipped in from the western continent, was of an uncommon strain, lighter in weight and colouring. As could be seen.

Though Fritz didn't know carriages, nor their worth, he suspected that the price Lauren had paid for it was at least a step below its actual value. He was proven right. Thea easily confessed that they had purchased it from a nobleman who needed to cover some debts and whose wife had parted with him, returning to her own House with their sons and daughters.

There was more to that story, but it was gossip Fritz had little interest in, apart from the detail that it was his own duel that the nobleman had gambled upon most extravagantly, hoping to win back enough to settle what he had owed. He had, of course, lost that wager, and his lenders had called for his loans to be fulfilled. A tale as old as the stones of the city. It was an odd coincidence, though not completely surprising. Fritz had found that such things happened.

Now that he was powerful and his position was prominent, his actions caused waves. No, not waves, but ripples, or rather... tremors. Fritz frowned, then dismissed the notion and drowned his burgeoning arrogance. It wasn't his own feats that had caused these tremors; it was the King's schemes. He was simply a lily pad floating on the surface of a pond. Disturbed, dashed and nearly drowned by the descent of a great stone. And for that, he was both grateful and troubled.

Grateful that he wasn't responsible for the consequences, troubled that he still was at the whims of the mighty. Despite his dark musings, the smooth travel and soft seating lulled Fritz into a peaceful dozing. His overtaxed muscles and mind welcomed the respite, brief though it was. Soon they were at the gates to the Upper Ring, then they were through.

The Scale Guard halted the carriage for hardly a minute, waving them along with all the appropriate deference and adroit diligence once they were identified as members of House Hightide. It was far quicker than if they had attempted passage through the gate on foot. Lauren had been quite right on that account. And he didn't begrudge her for it. The streets of the Upper Ring were far more populated than those of the Palace Ring, though that didn't hinder their speed by much.

The people parted before the carriage like minnows would a shark, though without any of the frenzied fleeing. Rather, it was a reflexive shifting born of fearful respect, further ingrained by experience. Many nobles wouldn't slow their carriages for the masses, and many had suffered under wheels and hooves, or the blades of House guards. Fritz had no such guards, but Mr. Walker, who had professed some skill with horse and carriage and was now filling the role of driver, was ordered not to be so callous.

He was in easy agreement. Still, he didn't slow often. In only ten minutes, they had joined a procession of carriages, all trundling towards the Treasury. Fritz yawned, stirring from his brief stupor, then stared out the window. He was pleased to see that his carriage, while not the most extravagant, fell right into place amongst the others. Just another noble or rich merchant, barely worth a second glance.

Though Fritz enjoyed standing out due to his skill, strength or gallant heart, he couldn't say the same of wealth. Flaunting such things irked him; his thief's instincts whispered that valuables so extravagantly exposed were ripe for the taking. It was an arrogance, unfounded, and a challenge to good sense and taste. The line moved fairly quickly, and soon the Treasury's crystal roof slid into view, unobstructed by the tall buildings walling it. Then the white facade of the huge structure loomed proudly.

Their carriage made a detour, turning off from the Thoroughfare road and into a street flanked by two of the Scale Guard.

"Is this the right way?" Fritz asked Lauren.

"For you, it is," she replied.

"I thought the entrance to the Treasury lay upon the Thoroughfare road," Fritz said.

"There's more than one entrance," Thea explained.

"This one is for the nobility, and therefore we should make use of it." They were stopped for a minute, and the sergeant in charge requested proof of their entitlement. Fritz provided it, displaying his signet ring. The sergeant nodded and smiled a sly smile.

"I've heard of you, milord. His Majesty has spoken well of you. You may pass freely, and with King Rain's gratitude."

"My thanks," Fritz said amiably. He was disconcerted, though he didn't show it. The attention wasn't welcome, especially so due to the association to the King. An association like that was a double-edged sword; favours from such a lofty benefactor would bring suspicious eyes, as well as the inevitable jealousy and resentment of those attempting to curry the King's favour. They passed under the arch of pale stone and down the street. Fritz shivered and was sure he was being watched. It didn't go unnoticed.

"Cold? Or are you still infirm?" Elliot inquired.

"No, nothing of that sort," Fritz said, glancing out the window and spying a seagull perched on the low wall. Its yellow eyes held a frigid intelligence, and he knew then the reason he had shuddered.

"Are you sure?" Thea asked, brushing the fabric of her skirt just above the knee. It was a gesture that betrayed her worry, one that she'd picked up from Jess, who did the same just a moment later, peering at him with poorly concealed concern.

"A chill. Worry not, it has passed," Fritz assuaged, attempting to push thoughts of the bird and its master from his mind. He wasn't in danger because he wasn't going to speak of her secrets. Not since he'd been so thoroughly punished by her curse.

"If you feel unwell, just mention it, and we'll return to the estate at once," Thea offered.

"I'm fine," Fritz insisted. And as he did so, the street opened, and they entered a courtyard, one cleared of the unimportant, enclosed for the exclusive use of the peerage and those Climbers mighty enough to have their demands met. While it was busy, it wasn't bustling. The powerful and the privileged got in and out of carriages, and a steady stream of those wealthy patrons entered into the tall, gleaming door of the Treasury. They rolled to a stop thirty yards from the entrance.

A man, dressed neatly and obviously an attendant, approached their carriage and stood patiently as they disembarked. He offered to help the ladies down with a dignified, if irritated, air while absently activating a Rain Shield to cover them. It was clear that his anger wasn't directed towards the women, but at the driver derelict in his duties, flashing accusatory eyes at him, or rather, them.

Fritz, leaping down the little more than a foot and a half from the carriage, also turned and narrowed his eyes at the additional, bulky man sitting on the driver's seat with Mr. Walker. Bert smiled down, repressing a grin, but not a wink. He was in his butler's attire, and his golden hair was tied back in a horse's tail. Fritz smiled up at him, barely suppressing a noise between a scoff and a chuckle.

"Why are you up there?"

"I was having Mr. Walker teach me how to drive one of these things," Bert stated, slapping the man on the shoulder. The poor man winced and smiled politely while avoiding the attendant's disapproving stare.

"Why?" Fritz asked. Bert shrugged.

"It's interesting, and I wanted to. Could be a useful trick, too." Fritz inclined his chin, accepting the explanation.

"And how, pray tell, did you end up there without me noticing?"

"My Lord is too concerned with his own thoughts and affairs and has greater matters to pay attention to than the scurrying of servants," Bert said, this time his grin did appear, and it was as insolent as ever.

"And I was being sneaky. I'm good at that, don't you know?" Fritz did know. Bert had been a surprisingly skilful thief. It was something one could forget, what with the man's boisterous demeanour and the eager energy he exuded, but he could walk as quiet as a cat if the mood took him. Fritz thanked the gods that it wasn't often.

"You could have ridden in the carriage with us. There was room enough for you," he said. Bert shook his head, then leapt down, splashing Fritz slightly.

"You fool!" he cried.

"You absolute cretin. You got my leg wet."

"Sorry," Bert said, his tone completely unapologetic. The attendant looked at them askance, and Fritz continued to berate Bert, if only to maintain appearances.

"What kind of servant are you? I should have you flogged, hobbled and thrown from my service!"

"Cast me not from your side, Milord! Anything but that!" Bert lamented, only a little late on his delivery.

"I'll endure the lashes and leg-breaking, but my life would have no meaning, my heart would cease beating if I couldn't serve as I must."

"If not for the promise I made your ailing mother, I would have been done with you long ago." Fritz sighed a great sigh, shaking his head sadly.

"I'll forgive you this time, if only in memory of that oath I am honour bound to uphold."

"Most benevolent Lord! My thanks are as endless as the grey reaches of the clouded sky," Bert professed. The phrase was familiar, likely from a fairy tale or a play.

"And your regrets are as deep as the ocean, I'm sure," Fritz said, completing the quote though not knowing precisely where it was from, nor how Bert was able to recite it.

"Just so, my Lord. Just so!" Bert said, bowing over and over. They were beginning to attract glances, some disdainful, though a few merely bemused, so Fritz smiled politely and waved him to silence and hopefully to some sensibility. Bert finally caught the nobles looking, then Lauren coughed scornfully, her brow furrowed severely. He straightened, fixed the collar of his dark jacket, then gave a slight nod. A sign he was done playing around. Though his eyes were still alight with mischievous joy.

"Come, Mr. Dale, the Treasury awaits," Fritz said, motioning him to follow as he strode to meet the waiting attendant. The man sniffed pompously before addressing Fritz and those following in his wake, "Welcome to His Majesty's Treasury. My apologies, but I am unfamiliar with your faces, and I must ask as to your identities. To which House do you belong?"

Fritz smiled sharply, and not only due to the attendant's presumptuous attitude; he was wearied by the constant scrutiny and hated having to announce himself wherever he went.

"House Hightide," he proclaimed. The attendant's face flickered with recognition, and he smiled sycophantically.

"My deepest apologies," he said, the obsequiousness dripping from his tone. As he bowed his head, the man reached into his coat for something, maybe a dagger. It was a subtle movement that many would miss. Fritz caught it clearly, and fearing assassination Gracefully applied his own subtlety, stepping forward and grasping the man's wrist before it could uncoil and stab forth. Fritz twisted the attendant's arm.

The man let out a gasp of pain as his hand was forced into the open, then what he had been reaching for fell from his fingers. A small rock, no larger than a cobblestone, struck the soaked ground with a splash and a click. Fritz recognised it as a message stone, not a blade, and felt the heat of embarrassment rush to his face. Of course, the man hadn't been attempting to kill him. To murder him out in the open would be madness.

Still, there was a possibility, if only slight, that an agent of the Nightshark or some other nefarious noble would seek his death. It was only normal for a certain amount of paranoia to accumulate. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Fritz leaned close, speaking softly so his voice would be lost in the rain." Who are you messaging?" The attendant trembled, and he stammered a quiet explanation, his fear clear and cloying.

"The Curator, the Prin- I mean, Lord Silverseal." There was only the faintest edge of falsehood in those words, but Fritz knew why that was. He didn't need the man's slip-up to know who 'Lord Silverseal' was. He was, to all accounts, the King's only known bastard, a half brother to the Princess and the Spire-claimed crown Prince.

It was an open secret in high society and one of the most worn-out whisperings one could hear, along with the equally exhausted speculations of if he were ever to be legitimised, and then be named heir to the throne and Spires of Rain City. It wasn't likely to be. Despite the clear trust the King had for his son, appointing him as the Treasury's head, so titled 'Curator', the bastard-prince had displayed little ambition, and even less interest in Climbing to grow his power. Or so the rumours went.

Fritz had heard that the man, though allowed any and all the support and superiority of his royal House, was timid and seldom seen outside his post. Behind this princeling's back, and in the shadowed corners of salons, some named him a coward, others claimed he was simply content as the Curator, and a diligent man who upheld honour despite the circumstances of his birth.

"Why?" Fritz nearly hissed, then his grip grew tighter.

"Why house Hightide?"

"I do not know. Lord's orders," the man replied. This was the truth, or the truth of the matter that the attendant knew. Fritz found it irksome, but could see why he was being watched for. The King's gratitude. Perhaps the Scale Guard's words had meant more than he'd suspected.

"Unhand me, Lord. Please," the attendant said, his voice a whimper. Fritz did, then dipped low, swiftly picking up the message stone and returning it to him. After placing it in the man's palm, he patted him on the shoulder and chuckled as if they had shared a joke. The attendant, cunningly, played along, nodding and forcing a laugh while he massaged his wrist. Fritz glanced around the courtyard, hoping his accosting of the fellow hadn't been noticed.

Thankfully, none of the nobles or wealthy folk had eyes for him especially, rather, they watched their entire party with some small interest before remembering their own affairs and making their way into the Treasury proper. He nearly sighed with relief, glad his violence had gone unobserved.

"This way, if you will, Lord Hightide," the attendant offered, gesturing to the distant open doors of the Treasury. Fritz nodded, then he followed as the man led them. While they walked, Bert posed a question in their thief signs.

"What happened?"

"Thought he had a dagger."

"Did he?"

"No."

"Paranoid." Fritz half-shrugged. Bert smiled and left it at that, satisfied. The others didn't bring attention to his mistake, but Fritz could tell that they weren't well pleased, though they knew better than to chide him in public view. Only Lauren looked not to care overmuch. After a minute or two, they had made it to the entrance and passed under the silver and gold gate into a reception hall where Scale Guard stood at attention, their stares wary and watchful.

A warm gust blew over Fritz and his party, a magic like that of the Archives to ward away the wet. Then, once they were dry, they entered the grand hall. The stone floor of the Treasury was white with thin lines of silver and gold intersecting in triangular patterns. There were no columns, but in the centre, a pillar of rippling light illuminated a great raised dais that was currently bare.

The finely decorated walls, painted with landscapes and visions of great battles, were ringed with stone counters and glass display cases, hosting all manner of Treasures, glittering, gaudy or grim. Though the hall wasn't the chaotic sea that the markets were, a constant stream of patrons flowed through it, oftentimes swelling as some stopped to admire the store of Treasures.

The nobility and merchants glided through the hall at leisurely paces while Climbers, servants and attendants walked quickly to wherever they were heading, through the many doors or up the several stairways to the upper floors. As their own escort explained briefly, the Treasury not only sold and auctioned Treasures, but all manner of rare materials, magical items and potions. And of course, Seeds, though those deals were usually best discussed in the private rooms, boxes and booths, of which there were many.

While Fritz had known the Treasury mainly for its auctions, these other enterprises weren't unheard of. He also knew you'd get a better price for such things in the markets, or from the Jastili tents and ships. Every silvery plaque he had seen so far had led him to the belief that all that was on display was expensive in the extreme, having prices over one-thousand gold triads or instructions to speak to the respective seller. Calling the Treasures overpriced would be underselling it.

That, or there was some hidden quality to the items Fritz couldn't detect. He hoped it was the latter, though was doubtful. Eventually, they had made their way close to the centre, near the dais where the auctions were said to be held, and the ceiling opened up above them. His party gasped and gawked, their awe apparent. Fritz glanced up, past the balustrades and the boxes of the upper floors, to the crystal roof.

It was triangular and faceted, a fractured lens through which the sparse light of the day poured through. He only gave the sight a single moment, then he was scanning those around and above him, feeling as though he'd garnered some unneeded attention from on high. Bert dug an elbow into his ribs, then pointed at the roof.

"Look." Fritz scowled.

"I did."

"No, Fritz, look." Annoyed by the interruption, but knowing Bert had some reason, good or ill, for his insistence, Fritz stared up. It was the same clear roof, pelted by the rain. He was about to ask what he was meant to be looking for, then he saw it. There, through the crystal, the rain streamed and pattered, those splattering rings and diminutive rivers carried and carved the light, painting a canvas of pure colours and shifting patterns.

It was beautiful, and it was the first time Fritz had ever thought so of the rain. Rain was cold, it was wet, it soaked clothes and swelled wood, preparing them for rot and mould. It hid tears and the sounds of crying. It was never beautiful. Yet, here in the centre of the city, that same rain shimmered into something wondrous. If he focused, drowning out the dull commotion of the crowd, listening, he could hear the rapping of the raindrops on the crystal surface, ringing like tiny bells.

A moment stretched into two, then a few more. Fritz marvelled and his Awareness quivered with delight, and in his revelatory fascination nearly threw an arm around Bert's broad shoulders. He was saved from that flaunting of familiarity and breach of propriety by a sudden, strange tremble down one thread of Awareness. Fritz pried his gaze from the crystal light, turning to where the attendant had been. A new man had replaced him.

He was smiling, finely attired and, as Fritz suspected, too important to be escorting him and his party. There was no mistaking who he was; as such, there was no introduction needed, though the man didn't deign to do so in the first place, announcing instead, "I apologise for any offence that may have been afforded by your previous escort. I will resume his duties and endeavour to provide any guidance you require. You may call me Alfred."

'Alfred', or rather, Lord Silverseal, was younger than should be expected, and could have been mistaken for the King himself if he were to weather a hard decade, or maybe two. His hair was blonde, and the set of his jaw, the blue of his eyes and the regal handsomeness were all present, and in royal abundance. The only thing that set him apart from his father was his colouring, being but a shade paler in hair and scale. That, and his smile was different.

It wasn't the same severe curve the King wielded, but a gentle quirk that had a pleading quality, as if he were quietly apologising for the fortune he had been born to.

"Though my friends call me Alfie," Lord Silverseal continued.

"Not to presume, but I have the distinct impression we could be friends, and fastly." Fritz could only return the man's smile, and not just because the merfolk man was almost royalty, but because the words rang true. Still, although Alfred was fronting honesty, that didn't mean his intentions were pure. There must be a motive for the Curator's personal attention.

"There is no offence to be had, Alfie," Fritz said.

"It was a mere misstep, mostly on my own part; do not punish the man for it."

"I will take that consideration into account," he replied amiably.

"There is one thing I do wonder, though," Fritz said.

"Oh?"

"What about this incident and the matter of our escort warrants the intervention of someone as esteemed as yourself?" At Fritz's question, Elliot, who had a pensive look, widened his eyes, the recognition and realisation of Alfred's actual station made apparent. Thea, of course, had no such revelation; she had already guessed as much and had curtsied immediately and impeccably. Lauren and Jess had followed suit, though their curtsies were deeper and they lowered their eyes respectfully.

The bastard-prince waved them up, affecting abashment, though the light in his eyes revealed he was pleased by their deference, and he obviously had an appreciation for their beauty.

"You discovered me already," he sighed.

"I suspect it was foolish to attempt to hide my identity from a Guide's son."

"Or anyone who has beheld His Majesty, whom you very much resemble," Fritz riposted.

"Quite handsomely," Thea remarked, trying a sly smile. Bert nodded an agreement and thankfully reigned in his usual grin and wink. Alfred chuckled pleasantly.

"I have been told that. Or, more correctly, warned." He then sighed, a sound that both lamented and relished his fame.

"Alas, I had intended to befriend you in common guise. However, now that I am found out, I will simply have to order you to the task." Again, he smiled.

"I do not refuse the order, nor deem it necessary," Fritz replied easily.

"Truthfully, I am most humbled by the generosity of the royal House, though I still wonder what I have done to earn it."

"We can speak on that while we walk. Unless you have pressing matters, I would enjoy giving you the tour of the Treasury, as it were." Fritz hesitated, considering the offer and deciding why he should refuse. It was one thing to be polite to the House of Rain, another entirely to tie himself more closely.

"I would add that I am quite adept at the task by now. Many a notable Climber or foreign noble has been guided through these halls by none other than myself, including Prince Roderick Ixaron and his entourage," Alfred lightly boasted.

"The Prince from the Empire?" Elliot asked.

"Correct, Lord Hightide," Alfred said warmly.

"Call me Elliot. Please," he replied with a bow.

"If you wish it so." Alfred turned his pleasant smile back to Fritz, silently pressing him with expectation. He ran his fingers along the silvery hem of his silken coat. The fidgeting was the first sign Fritz had seen of the man's rumoured timidity; the second sign was the anxious motes, thin and distant, hidden away, but all too present. He decided to acquiesce to the bastard prince. Any harm that could come of their acquaintance was minor, considering the different seas they each sailed upon.

"I would receive your hospitality, and gladly. However, I do have some business to attend to, my House is in need of a broker, and I wish to appoint one. Would you lend aid to this effect?"

"That shall be arranged," Alfred said, waving an attendant to his side, then relaying a series of commands. When he turned back, he asked, "Anything else?"

"I am in need of an appraiser," Fritz explained, gesturing to the white sabre belted at his waist, just beside Mortal Edge. Alfred smiled knowingly.

"House Whiteship's blade. Well, you'll be pleased to hear that you may not be in need of an appraiser at all."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. The Treasury keeps records of the Treasures that pass through its halls. If it were bought and sold here at auction or traded in an exchange, there will be a document detailing its previous appraisal."

"Truly?" Fritz asked.

"Even though it has belonged to House Whiteship for generations?"

"Perhaps. The records go back five-hundred-and-seven years. The Treasury the oldest structure in the city, save maybe the Palace or the Archives. And the Spires, of course," Alfred recounted.

"Older than the drowned tunnels and buildings below the districts?" Fritz asked.

"No. I suppose not. Perhaps I should rather say it is the oldest structure still standing," he corrected himself thoughtfully.

"And I'll be allowed to view this record? If it exists?" Fritz questioned. Alfred, brought out his musing, smiled.

"Usually, no. Not without the proper writ and an adequately obscene donation." His eyes glinted mischievously.

"Though you have His Majesty's gratitude... and I, too, have some interest in that sword's powers."

"Thrice I have been told of His Majesty's gratitude. I fear if I am not elucidated as to how I have acquired it, then I shall burst," Fritz frivolously warned. Alfred laughed.

"All over my Treasury floor? What a mess that would make. One I couldn't countenance. Come, let me show you to your House's private box, and on the way I shall elucidate you." Thea slipped up to Fritz's side and subtly pinched his back just above his belt, smiling prettily at the prince as she did so. Apparently, he had committed some rudeness or overlooked some common courtesy. His mistake was evident enough once he'd thought on it for a moment.

"Before that, I would be remiss not to introduce my party," Fritz said, then he spoke some quick and complimentary words about each of his current companions. Alfred was mildly delighted with each of them, or so it appeared. It was clear, though, from the lights around him, that he was most fascinated by Jess and Bert in particular. When they were done exchanging pleasantries, Alfred led the way. Fritz strode beside him, and as promised, they spoke. Alfred didn't belabour.

"You did His Majesty a favour. I am sure you were not fully aware of the details, but those duels you fought exposed the weakness of the Houses that precipitated, then participated in them. It also embarrassed the Minister for Law, who has been the head of a certain fractious faction for some time. To be outmanoeuvred, then overpowered by the newly Tolled scion of a defunct, derelict House was a great shame. Father was pleased at that, and then you had the temerity to take their heirloom sword as a trophy."

Alfred laughed.

"If he was merely pleased before, he was brought to delight by that cruel twist. Quite a cunning ploy. Though perilous, you earned the ire of that entire House and its allies. Of which there are now fewer, again, due to your astounding victories." Fritz didn't know what to say, nodding modestly as he listened. The story made some sense, but as he had been an unwitting pawn in the whole endeavour, he found he couldn't take much pride in the praise heaped upon him.

In truth, the fact that the whole plot had been orchestrated without his knowledge frustrated him beyond mere irritation and stoked his anger into something close to fury. Still, he kept that to himself, smiling falsely.

"And then, once you had fulfilled your duty by defeating father's foes, you did not seek him out for favour, indulgences or restitution. Even when that foreign assassin failed to slay you, you did not petition His Majesty for a single thing. Not so much as a triad. Instead, you relied on yourself and your team. He respected that. He respected you. Do you know how rare that is?" Fritz didn't.

It was fear of becoming entangled in those sorts of plots again that he had avoided the King; hearing that it only ingratiated him further caused him only exasperation. It should have been amusing if it had happened to anyone but himself. Alas. Fritz belatedly answered the question with a shake of his head.

"Well, it is rare," Alfred professed.

"So much so that I haven't seen it since Alain... left for the Spire."

"Your brother?" Fritz asked. Alfred sighed.

"Half-brother. But a true one in my heart. He was a great man, or had the becomings of one. So said all who met him. However, let us not speak on that sadness. The King's gratitude is a boon not granted to most. He favours you despite our Houses' history, and as such, you will be granted privileges, here in the Treasury, in the Palace and the Archives."

"What about the Rain Spire? Could badges be arranged for my Team and I?" Fritz entreated. Alfred smiled apologetically.

"A House of your standing would be allowed to acquire them for three hundred gold per badge. In the usual circumstances, that is. However..."

"However..." Fritz pressed.

"However, due to the outstanding debt you owe to the crown, you will be prohibited from those purchases," Alfred stated.

"Until every triad has been paid in full." Fritz's smile faltered, and he slowed his stride.

"Surely the King's generosity should remove such an obstacle. Or perhaps His Majesty could call off the debt." Alfred shook his head vehemently and matched Fritz's pace.

"No. His Majesty's decree is final and it will be fulfilled. To repeal it... well... Father will not go back on his word. Once spoken, thus shall it be. That is a King. Or so he states."

"As it should be," Elliot agreed as he trailed behind. Fritz, though not content with the King's hollow 'gratitude', held his contentions back, keeping his bitterness to himself. Alfred seemed to glance a part of his bleak regard, and so they continued through the Treasury in a more muted mood. Of course, they still chatted amiably about the Treasury and its schedules and side halls.

Fritz learnt much, including the reason that the grand dais was currently going unused and there were no rows of benches taking up the majority of the main hall. They had missed this week's auction. Missing out didn't matter much to Fritz; he was there to set his affairs in order rather than watch Treasures he couldn't afford be bought and sold. Still, he listened and learned what he could. It turned out that there were three kinds of auction, the difference being mostly one of scale.

At the start of each week, there was an auction that ran for two days, at the end of the month, there was another that ran for three, and then there was a great week-long auction on the thirteenth month of the year, and lastly, just before the Tolling, there would be another that lasted the whole month preceding. Eventually, after climbing three sets of stairs, they were approaching his House's private box, from which he, or his broker, could watch the auction below. They entered.

A few fine chairs populated the small room, as well as a small table for refreshments. It wasn't the most luxurious of the boxes, but neither was it rudimentary. It was nice, almost cosy, and the Hightide crest was set upon the door in newly polished silver. It would do well. Alfred handed him two keys, one for him and his broker, so they could make use of the box when ever they pleased. Fritz handed one to Lauren, then slipped the other into his pocket.

Bert peered over the box's short, curtained wall, and Fritz joined him. It had quite the view. Though, it would be difficult for some one without high perception to make out anything being auctioned in great detail, unless they had a spyglass or a magical lens. After only a minute, an attendant arrived and delivered documents to Alfred, who, in turn, passed them to Fritz for his perusal, then his sealing and signing. He inspected the contract thoroughly, then swept it with his Awareness.

It was simple enough in its contents; however, it put much trust in the appointed broker. They would have plenty of power, including the right to bid large sums of gold and pledge Treasures in trade in his absence. Fritz hesitated, wondering if it was wise to trust this all to Lauren. He read the documents again and found clauses and procedures that would allow Amathea or Elliot to contest and curtail a broker's potentially ruinous purchases. That eased his worries enough to appoint Lauren then and there.

He didn't truly mistrust her, but one could never be too careful. Soon, his seal and signature were in place, and his first order of business was done. Just in time, too, because the record of House Whiteship's sabre had been found and provided. Alfred glanced over the unfurled scroll for a few moments, his smile widening, before he handed it to Fritz with a shallow bow. He looked down at the faded ink and surprisingly well-preserved parchment, his eyes widening.

There was more than the simple record of a Know-notes identification. It had undergone a full, intensive appraisal. That's not what had shocked him, though. No, what had stunned him was the enormity of the winning bid. Six-thousand gold triads.