Chương 240: Arc 4 - Chapter 42

Fritz read the number again, thinking he had added a zero to it. But no, there in dusky ink the figure of six-thousand gold was still visible.

"Yes, it's quite the Treasure you were able to claim," Alfred said, chuckling.

"Yes, quite the Treasure."

"It's valuable then?" Elliot asked eagerly.

"Perhaps I should switch to the sabre." Fritz considered the same, fighting against the instinct to discard the notion outright. It would take some training, but the Inevitable Blade's effects should apply to the sabre too. Before he made such a decision, he returned his gaze to the aged parchment. He read through the record, this time focusing on the transcription of a Know-note's identification.

Treasure Whiterazor Alignment: Ice, Force.

Capacity: 21 Abilities Imbued Ice Strike C old cuts bones, skin's numbed by rime, the chill will take you, in due time. Your strike freezes on contact. Alignment: Ice. Cost: Three. Duration: Strike: Three seconds, Affliction: One minute. Refresh: None.

Icebreaker Shaking, shudder, a quickened quake. Glaciers quiver, crack - crash and break. This Treasure conjures a wave that shatters ice. Alignment: Ice, Force. Cost: Nine. Duration: None. Refresh: One minute.

Fritz frowned. The Treasure was powerful, though its potency didn't match the price it had commanded. He'd felt its chill first-hand, faced this blade and its Ice Strike head on, and he was left confused. Why had his own sword not frozen, then subsequently been shattered by this sabre's Abilities? Fritz glanced down to Quicksilver, then recalled its mana-drinking properties. His hand went to its hilt, and he could tell that his sword was empty of icy energies. A mystery.

Though perhaps, just as it ate fire and lightning, it denied frost and ice with that same voracity. Had Quicksilver saved him from a swift defeat? Or was it his fighting style, fast and flickering, rather than that lucky chance that had kept his blade from being broken? Perhaps it was both. Fritz put the questions from his mind for now. Any tests of his sword could be tried later, and he thought to do so once he arrived home. Right now, there was more to read.

He scanned the page further, finding notes on the Treasure's qualities beyond what a Know-note should reveal. It had been assessed to have high durability, an uncommonly sharp edge and a few secondary properties such as a near immunity to the cold, and a thin skin of cool air which shielded the wielder in the form of a lesser resistance to both ice and fire. It also noted that the sabre could cut flames, dissipating much of their heat, and could carve ice cleanly as if it were as soft as snow.

Then there was a section that spoke of Enshrinement and the possible boons that would confer.

"Enshrinement?" Fritz found himself asking, mystified by the term.

"What of it?" Alfred replied. Fritz didn't desire to make his lack of learning known, but neither did he want to dwell in ignorance, so he swallowed his pride and asked, "I've not heard of Enshrinement before. What is it?"

"Hmm, is this not something your tutors have covered? I am not sure I should intrude on your education," Alfred said.

"I recall Sir Needle speaking a word or two on the subject," Lauren mused.

"And I have definitely heard it mentioned, though never the specifics. Could you enlighten us, Lord?"

"I could be persuaded to," he replied with a languid smile.

"That would be very gracious, Lord," Jess entreated after a glance from Lauren. Alfred sighed, though his eyes were glittering. Jess smiled nervously.

"Enshrinement is what experienced Climbers do to bond Treasures," Alfred explained.

"This bond could confer new boons, improve imbuements, resonate with Advanced Attributes, and allow the Treasure to draw from a Climber's mana-reservoirs if they be aligned rightly. Though there is a cost to that. As there are for all things. I would know, being the Curator and all." Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

"This Enshrinement seems powerful," Fritz hedged, his mind racing through the implications.

"Quite powerful," Alfred agreed.

"Fearsome," Bert added.

"That too, though not only due to the potency granted. The process is rather difficult; it makes great demands on one's mind and soul and may require an Award or a Seed to successfully integrate the Treasure into one's Sanctum. And it can go wrong. Very wrong," he warned, his face serious for the first time.

"Awards and Seeds? The same as Ascending Abilities then?" Lauren asked.

"Not quite the same. It is not as safe. As I said, there are perils and prices for such things," Alfred said.

"What kind of perils?" Lauren pressed.

"Well, as the bonding ritual includes incorporating the Treasure into one's Sanctum, soul-scarring and a splintering are chief among the perils," Alfred said.

"My father told me to wait until I was an Expert before Enshrining a Treasure, and to never even consider it before becoming a Journeyman."

"And why is that?" Fritz asked.

"Oh, something about the malleability and sturdiness of one's Sanctum being more profound at those vaunted levels. As it is with sculpting, it demands a certain resilience and resolve," he replied dismissively. Then he scoffed.

"Not that I should ever Climb that high, even if I desired such dreadful toil." Fritz nodded at the explanation, though he felt a sliver of disdain creep up at the casual disparaging of Climbing. With all the resources the realm offered, this man could have earned plenty of personal power, and he was a fool not to do so. Fritz didn't let the thought show on his face.

"Do more powerful Treasures make the process easier or more difficult?" Elliot asked, the white of the sabre reflected in his eyes.

"More difficult. Of course, that does not mean one should Enshrine a lesser or, gods forbid, a minor Treasure because it's easier," Alfred said, his smile returning.

"No, that would be foolish. And even if the Treasure in question is well aligned to the wielder, the boons it would confer would be middling. Hardly worth the effort and definitely not worth the peril. Such weak Treasures are more prone to breakage, which is a terrible waste and pain. It's worse when that same Treasure is part of your soul, the damage of such a breaking is said to be substantial and agonising." He sighed.

"Still, there are fools in every age. Or so I've been told, and often likened to, by my tutors." Again, he smiled.

"And as those scholars are the foremost amongst their rare kind in Rain City, I have not the wits to contest them, nor would I contend even if I did so."

"You have a fair way of speaking to my ears, Lord. Surely that is born of a spring of pure intellect," Thea flattered.

"Speaking has been a study of mine for some time. One could hardly fail to polish their skill when forced to practice as long as I have. As they say in the Eternal Kingdom: Given a year, the dullest edge can be honed into a razor, and the most stubborn stone can be broken. And I've had many years."

"To be honed or broken?" Fritz asked.

"Both," Alfred said, affecting a weary tone, though the smile, sadder now, never left his face. Fritz thought the declaration overwrought, especially so, since it came from a man who hadn't known hunger and wanted for little. Still, he held back a scoff and attempted not to hold the self-pity against him too much. Fritz had felt similarly before he'd been orphaned. Only his exile had taught him the truth of poverty and the pain and fear that came with it. Without surviving it, you couldn't understand.

"Could two people Enshrine the same Treasure?" Elliot asked. Alfred shook his head.

"No."

"How many can you bond?" Lauren asked sweetly.

"Would you like to guess? How many do you think?" he replied playfully.

"If I were to guess, I would say... three," she said.

"And you would be correct," he acknowledged, tilting his head in a slight nod.

"Can they be un-enshrined?" Fritz asked. Alfred's smile soured.

"Oh, yes, though it's not advised, and I know not the process." Fritz nodded and read, again, Whiterazor's appraisal. The Enshrinement boons were stated to be an added sharpness to Ice-aligned magics and a resonance with Might.

"What's resonance?" Fritz asked.

"It may improve upon one's use of Advanced Attributes, or may Activate one of their variants," Alfred said.

"It's written here that Whiterazor has a resonance to Might, what could that entail?" Fritz asked. Alfred affected a slight shrug.

"I do not rightly know. Each Treasure, even those uniform and ubiquitous barrier rings, is a shard of Spire magic, and each Climber's soul and Sanctum is unique. What is born from Enshrinement will be different for one wielder to the next." Fritz nodded, but couldn't keep all the irritation from his features. There was a certain frustration in learning that there was yet another aspect of power he had yet to explore. Another road to tread.

One that was still out of his reach and would need to be investigated further. A power that Sir Needle had surely kept from him. He could guess why his tutor hadn't told him. It was due to Fritz's own floundering. What he had now heard of Enshrinement was strikingly similar to what he had done with the Eldritch Flame now smouldering, seething, in his Sanctum. He could still recall the agony of that searing touch; the memory of that pain hadn't faded one bit.

Fritz winced, then pushed away those errant thoughts and the stirring hate.

"Are you well, Lord Hightide?" Alfred asked. Fritz nodded, smoothing away a grimace. He then found he was holding his arm tightly. He let it go. It wasn't burning, it just tingled.

"I'm fine," Fritz said.

"Just a chill." Alfred nodded, his expression one of empathy. Seemingly, he thought it a lingering effect of the poison Fritz had been afflicted with.

"Can things other than Treasures be Enshrined?" Fritz asked. Alfred shrugged slightly.

"You will be better off asking your tutors or visiting the Archives for more in-depth knowledge on such subjects. I certainly haven't heard of it. My scholarly pursuits pertain to Treasures, their sale and their potential uses. I am even something of an appraiser. When my schedule is not too full, that is. I am not quite as versed in the theoretical. Sister dearest is the one who enjoys such subjects. Why, she would talk your ear off if you brought the matter to her."

"She is rather well read," Thea agreed.

"Well read is putting it mildly," Alfred said.

"She would make for a brilliant scholar. Alas, she will have to settle for being the future Queen. As she often laments." He smiled fondly.

"Oh, but I should not be gossiping. Least not about my sweet sister, bookish though she may be."

"I'd like the chance to meet her," Fritz said, the words tumbling out on their own. Alfred chuckled.

"Most men and more than a few women desire that very same thing. Though unlike them, I am sure you will get that chance. There will be a banquet to send off Alysine and Prince Roderick as they embark on their courting Climb of the Rain Spire, and you shall be invited. I will personally see to it."

"A courting Climb? Is their betrothal set then?" Thea asked eagerly, eyes glittering.

"I must have misspoke. No such rumours abound. Though... all will be announced at the banquet," Alfred said, his smile stretching slyly.

"Oh, brother, we'll have to get new attire if we are to attend. We must find some fineries appropriate for the King's palace," Thea said, turning to Fritz pleadingly.

"That will be arranged," Fritz stated, ignoring the cold dread weighing heavily in his centre.

"How long do we have to prepare for this banquet?"

"A month or two, maybe more," Alfred said.

"The Prince has been... difficult. And Alysine, well, she is delighted, though she has many duties." It was clear from the motes the colour of shame hovering around him that the Princess was not, as he had claimed, delighted. Again, Fritz felt a heavy stone, grey and cold, sink deeper in his chest.

"How wonderful," Thea said.

"Do you think we will meet the Prince too?" Alfred was about to answer, then he stopped and lifted a message stone from his pocket. Looking at the engraved surface, he frowned minutely, then sighed.

"Alas, it seems I cannot keep your company any longer, and our tour must come to an end. Unfortunately, as the Curator, I have many duties to attend to, and they will not wait. It was wonderful to meet you, honourable Lords and Ladies of Hightide."

"A pleasure, thank you for the tour, your time, and most of all your courtesy," Fritz replied, his words accompanied by a bow.

"You are very welcome," Alfred said, beaming.

"One last thing before you go, a small favour," Fritz said, stalling him for a second.

"Yes? If the favour truly is small," he replied. Fritz glanced from side to side, then beckoned the man to follow him to the door. He leaned close once they had walked to it, then whispered his request.

"Really, is that all?" Alfred asked, also in a whisper. It was obvious that he was not expecting the request to be so mundane, but he knew to keep his voice quiet.

"Yes, a pair, if you can," Fritz entreated. Alfred nodded slowly, then smiled, "I will see what I can find and send word in less than nine minutes." Fritz stepped back.

"Thank you again, and farewell, Alfie."

"Farewell." The Curator then bowed to the ladies and turned, leaving the private box in a dignified yet hurried stride.

"What a nice fellow," Elliot said a few moments after the door closed.

"A very charming man," Jess agreed.

"Too charming, reminds me a bit of Fritz," Bert teased.

"I mean, our esteemed Lord Hightide."

"So we should be wary of him then," Lauren stated.

"You should be wary of all the nobility, the Royals, thrice so," Fritz espoused. Lauren scoffed.

"Should you be the one warning us so, Lord Duellist?"

"Should you?" Fritz replied easily.

"I distinctly remember you levying some insults at your betters." Her flicker of a frown was quickly covered by a bright smile.

"My apologies, you're quite correct."

"Of course I am, I'm the Lord," Fritz said.

"We should all be wary of both of you harming Lords," Elliot said.

"What were you and the Curator whispering about?"

"Never you mind," Fritz said.

"Fine," Elliot grumbled.

"Are you quite done with the appraisal report? If so, I would like to read it," he asked, sweeping out a hand, his irritation evident.

"One moment," Fritz said, waving him away, then inspecting what was left on the page. There wasn't much more to read, only that it had been retrieved from the Glacial Spire, which was a Major Spire to the north west of Rain City. He wondered if that information had been provided by the seller or if there were a way of discovering where a Treasure was originally from.

Fritz suspected from Larry the Fence's warnings not to parade his Sunken Spire Treasures that there was such a way, but he was uncertain as to how or why. He decided to ask Lauren.

"Why, yes, there is a way to see which Spire a Treasure is from," she replied.

"For a time at least. The mana from each Spire forms distinct shapes and signs in its shifting glow, especially so when it's newly made. It's subtle, though, and it loses those signs eventually."

"How long does it take?" Fritz asked, then he guessed, "About a month?"

"For a Treasure from a Minor Spire, yes," she confirmed.

"Though it fades quicker if you Activate it often, as refilling it hastens the process." Fritz nodded, and seeing no further need for the report, handed it to his brother. He took it eagerly. Bert had a pensive cast to his face and a thoughtful glint in his eyes, an omen that warned he was about to ask a question that may reveal the depths of his true intelligence or the heights of his incredible ignorance. It turned out to be the former.

"These records," he began.

"They make one for each appraisal?"

"It seems so," Fritz agreed, wondering where he was heading with the question.

"Why?" Bert asked.

"Doesn't that seem like a waste? To keep all those old scrolls clean and dry would be a pain in the arse. Not to mention the gold any runes would cost to keep up."

"Language," Jess fussed, frowning.

"Sorry," Bert instinctively replied.

"You don't think it's simply the inescapable nature of bureaucracy?" Fritz posited.

"What do you mean?" Thea asked, puzzled.

"Records collected only because that's how it's always been done. Stored away in a dark vault because the procedure demands it, despite the nuisance it poses and the price it entails. Embedded rules and laws, spawning sprawling systems that become as certain as the Spires' Tolls." Even as Fritz put forth his theory, he found it unsatisfactory.

"What?" Bert asked.

"Francis, could you speak more plainly. And perhaps let your distaste of 'bureaucracy' lie quiet?" Thea chided. Fritz smiled, then shook his head.

"I cannot. My distaste for all these forms and formalities is deeper than can be spoken."

"I think," Bert said, his hand rising to scrape at his clean-shaven chin.

"I think it's more than that." Fritz thought further and had to agree that there was more to it. Then it came to him like a bolt of lightning from a black-grey sky. Control. It felt obvious now that he considered it more closely, knowing what a Treasure could do, what its strengths and weaknesses were, and how to circumvent or subvert their powers was a valuable thing.

And these reports could be held over noble heads, the King and his Scale Guard would know what the Houses wielded, and the threat of the release of such information was a reason to resist the tempting gifts that came with treason. Of course, not all Treasures passed through the Treasury. There would be secretive deals made elsewhere in the dark of the Nightshark's black markets or in vibrant tents or ships of the Jastili, or in the back rooms of selective, secretive parlours and clubs.

But that would only make up a small portion of the Treasure trade.

"It's simple," Fritz said, satisfied with his deduction.

"It's a leash. One that could be tightened into a noose."

"Huh?" Bert said, but he soon caught on.

"I see, I see. It's a way to keep his nobles honest?"

"As honest as nobles can be," Fritz agreed.

"Thea and I are nobles, as are you if you forget it. And it would be best if you did not imply that we are scoundrels, as you assume of your fellows in the peerage," Elliot said, his irritation carved clearly on his brow. Fritz smiled, and he hoped it would annoy his brother further.

"My apologies. Of course, the present company was meant to be excluded."

"That will not do," Thea chided.

"Besmirching the nobility is a truly terrible habit for you to display. Cease it before you, again, insult the wrong people."

"Perhaps you are right, my time away has left me more than a little-""Feral?" Bert interjected.

"Wild?" Jess suggested.

"Insane," Elliot proposed.

"Uncivilised?" Lauren guessed.

"Rough," Thea said.

"Rough," Fritz agreed before scowling at Bert and muttering, "feral, I'll show you feral" under his breath. Bert just laughed. Fritz shook his head, then allowed himself a wry smile.

"Elliot, are you done with that record?" Elliot nodded and returned the parchment.

"This Whiterazor is a mighty fine blade. What are we to do with it?" Choosing not to comment on the use of the word 'we', Fritz pondered that very same question. While the appraisal had revealed many powerful properties and tempted him to keep the sabre, he still came to the same unexciting conclusion he had before.

"I'm afraid I'll have to ransom it," Fritz said. Elliot attempted to hide his displeasure, letting only a bland "Oh" pass the thin line his lips had formed, but it was clear that he desired to keep the Treasure.

"Believe me, I like the thought even less than you do," Fritz stated sincerely.

"However, it must be done. I don't want to incur any more of Duke Whiteship's ire by holding onto his House's blade. And we could negotiate quite the sum for its return, enough to cut into our substantial debt to the crown." Elliot muttered darkly, but Fritz could feel that the frustration wasn't aimed at himself. He attempted to comfort his brother.

"Do not despair, there's time enough before your Tolling to find you a Treasure sword. I'll find you one."

"Yes, we'll keep an eye out," Lauren agreed.

"And don't worry about us going poor for it, it'll come right out of Fritz's shares." Bert grinned.

"That is if George doesn't poach it," Elliot said. Bert chuckled.

"Collect it, you mean," Lauren corrected.

"I'm sure he'll try," Fritz agreed.

"Though I'm sure I can convince him to part with one sword. Eventually. Maybe." Elliot gave a begrudging smile and nodded once. Just then, there was a knock at the door. Bert, as the closest and most appropriately attired, opened it and received a messenger and his message before dismissing him with the flicker of a silver triad and a wink. Soon, Fritz had a note form Alfred in his hand, it read: What you requested will await you at your estate.

They come with my best wishes and the assurances of the foremost experts that they will be well-suited to your Household. I hope you will be well pleased. Your most recent friend, Alfred. He slipped the paper into a pocket, then looked to his party.

"We should be off. All our business has been concluded, has it not?"

"It has," Lauren agreed.

"To the markets then?" Fritz asked, though he was already striding when he did so. There was a chorus of agreements, and they made their way out of the private box and into the Treasury beyond. While Fritz felt the pressing of time keenly, he didn't rush through the place. He allowed some browsing as they wandered through the outer halls, where Seeds, magical materials and potions were displayed along with silver plaques engraved with their extravagant prices.

Fritz treated the delay as a relaxed form of scouting, and made note of the Treasury's layout and current supply of rare goods, as well as the faces of the Climbers, the nobility and their attendants. What he discovered while he did so was disconcerting. Although he had thought that he and his party should blend in with the many other well-dressed groups, it wasn't the case. Wherever they walked, whispers followed them. They weren't the cuttingly cruel remarks he'd been expecting, but they were coldly curious.

And while it was a relief that he couldn't hear much ill-will upon the gentle breeze, it also unnerved him just how much attention each of them was drawing. For the quiet comments and questions were not just for himself, but for Elliot, Thea, Lauren, Jess and Bert, too, even though he was dressed as a servant. He caught snippets here and there, and found most of the statements unsurprising. There was talk of his duel, of his potential ties to the House Noonsea, Tallmast and Wavereach, and then the King himself.

They had also noted that he'd just been welcomed to the Treasury by none other than the Curator. Then there was the idle observations of how handsome, beautiful, youthful and well-mannered he and his party looked. Fritz, his siblings and his 'servants' were apparently a real novelty and the source of much speculation. Worse yet, some nobles even approached Fritz and introduced themselves. He did his best to receive them graciously, which was easy with his charming smile and his feigned delight.

Dismissing them quickly and politely was more difficult, though he soon found a tone woven with Dusksong that was perfect for sending them away without insult. Under such avid attentions and curious scrutinies, lesser men would feel some fear or discomfort, Fritz, however, was a being of both the light and shadow, and it troubled him little. Or such would have been the case if he weren't in something of a hurry.

It took over an hour for them to escape the Treasury and pile into their carriage, but then they were off, down onto the Thoroughfare road and into the markets. There, Fritz was surprised to find that the whispers and gossip were louder, though also more focused on his exploits in the duelling arena than anything else. Thankfully, no one attempted to impose on him or his party. The common-folk knew better than to attract a noble's displeasure, or if they were unfortunate, aristocratic wrath.

Another thing he noticed was that he, in particular, was watched by suspicious drizzlers. They didn't dare outright glare at him, but he could feel their hostile gazes on his back. Ousting their Captain, though he had only a minor hand in the matter, had obviously earned him some grudges. It irritated him to no end that, even though he was far above them in station, they still looked at him with such disdain. As though he were still a sneak-thief skulking in the gutters.

He wanted to stride up to one of the squads and berate them, but knew it would be more trouble than any satisfaction having them scrape and bow would be worth. So, instead of confronting any drizzlers, he went about his business. They visited all manner of stores and stalls, then visited Colette's shop and commissioned some clothing. The clothier fussed over both Thea and Elliot.

The reunion had her nearly weeping, and she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief as she remarked on how they'd grown up to be fine young lords and ladies. They, in turn, only vaguely remembered the dressmaker, but they accepted her kindness and affection with open arms. Literally, in Thea's case, as she allowed the woman to hug her. Elliot, of course, was too reserved for that. It was nice, and the hour they spent there was well worth it.

The small store had a certain quality that warmed Fritz, or perhaps it was simply Colette herself. He found himself sitting and smiling as she bustled to and fro and ordered her apprentices around. He had to drop his smile and put on a look of contrition when he asked for his sirensilk shirt to be repaired. She admonished him for his carelessness, though not for very long.

They both knew what it would take to cut the incredibly durable fabric it was made of, and he could see that she was proud that the shirt had protected him as well as any armour should. After measurements were taken, Fritz's sleeve was mended, and all was well in order, they left with promises to return soon. The carriage rolled on, and Fritz yawned. Weariness pulled at his eyelids, and his mind threatened to doze. In mere minutes, the threat was realised, and he fell into a dream.

There, between tall dark trees in a grey-orange haze, moths danced. Flying, fluttering, they spun around him, their wings rustled, rasping a soft song. It was a tenderly discordant melody, and looking down, he saw he was tied. Thin strings of silver covered him in a glittering skein. Those same strings led away from his body, spanned the forest in an endless, intricate snarl. Fritz didn't struggle; he was sure it wouldn't aid him any. He knew that it would only court the attention of obsidian eyes.

He wasn't the only one caught. In the distance, he could see a figure, then another and another, there, trapped in the twilight beneath the trees. Bound, kept and quiet. His gaze was drawn to the closest captive. The man's familiar back was turned, he had Fritz's same stature and shoulders and-"Wake up, Francis," Thea said.

"We're home."