TwoKinds: Redemption

A Fan-Fiction Novel

Written by WildSnivy

Part I: Soccer, Sea Songs and Steak

Chapter 1

In a word, the skirmish was short-lived, maybe even over-before-it-started. The bandit wasn't even sure how it happened, or even what happened for that matter. The advantage was all theirs, five on two, and now here he was. Last Keidran standing, stumbling, struggling to find a weapon. He would have even settled for a branch at this point. Something, anything to ward off his pursuers. Stunned, stupefied at how he was still alive. A quandary he had neither the time nor brain power to ponder presently. His mind was fixated on living. Dodging his pursuers and escaping. Surviving.

He identified a battle axe in the hand of one of his fallen brothers-in-arms, and instinctively made a move for it. Preparation was key; he wanted, had to be ready for if, no, when his adversaries started looking for him. Hunting him. The bandit quickened his pace, grimacing as the pain in his right abdomen gradually intensified. It had two sources: a stab wound and an arrow, and the bandit wasn't sure which one came first in the melee. Maybe they happened simultaneously. But he didn't care at the moment, why would he? The axe was there, and he was closing in. Urgency continued to accelerate him towards the armament, resulting in a painful crescendo of agony as he drew closer. Until his body could not stand any more, and the bandit collapsed, barely an arm's reach out from the weapon. He almost had it; he could probably crawl to it. He inched closer to the axe, arm outstretched...

And then he was beaten to it. It was his adversary, the warrior. His target, the should-have-been victim. And he squelched the bandit's hopes of retaliation with a slight clank as he stepped on the axe's hilt, pinning it to the ground beneath. The bandit bowed his head in defeat, in hopelessness.

"Do you know who I am?" the warrior asked in accented Keidran tongue. The bandit gazed up from the overtaken weapon, at his former target, his soon-to-be-killer in all likelihood as well. He was a vexing study, the warrior. He was obviously not a Keidran; the ears and tail were too long, his stature remarkably short, especially for a male, fur a short, monochromatic beige the bandit was not familiar with. Also, what were those wrappings around his feet for? His best guess was bandaging, but there didn't seem to be any wounds that would need covering up, or at the least no visible ones. Some sort of shoe for Keidran, then? But if that was the case, he probably would have encountered them earlier at some point before this disaster of a raid. It was extremely confusing, and for whatever reason it was the only thing holding his attention right now.

"You wolves do enjoy your raiding parties, don't you?" the warrior continued as he picked up the axe and examined it, almost reverently, as if the axe were some sort of fine sculpture he was trying to fully appreciate.

The bandit coughed twice and tried to catch his breath before responding. "W-we didn't want to hurt anyone..." the weak reply came.

"Oh, no, I'm sure. And I'd agree with you if you didn't just make an attempt to kill me and my traveling partner," the warrior calmly retorted. He spun the axe around in his hand, as if he was trying to get a feel for the weapon, and then buried it into the nearby tree with a satisfying whack as it connected. The wolf flinched a bit in surprise as the warrior knelt down, now at eye-level with the bandit.

"Hey, look at me," the warrior coolly demanded as he slapped the wolf twice. The bandit lifted his head again, now looking into the blank yellow eyes of the warrior. "I'll ask you again: do you know who I am?"

The wolf grunted back in discomfort. "Never..seen you before."

"Really now?" the warrior returned, feigning interest. He rifled around in the pocket of his cloth trousers and unfolded the scrap of paper it was housing. He then flipped it around for the wolf to see: it was a rather detailed and remarkably accurate illustration of the warrior from the shoulders up. Near the bottom, scribbled in Keidran script, was the name: Keith Keiser.

"Because it seems like your friends do," Keith spoke as he returned the paper to his pocket. "Which leads me to believe I'm not a target of opportunity. You didn't attack me because I was in the wrong spot at the right time. You and your gang were looking for me, weren't you?"

The wolf sighed and shifted his gaze down at the ground. "It wasn't supposed to end like this..."

"Oh, for crying..." Keith muttered with exasperation. He stood up and picked up the downed bandit with both arms, dragging him to the axed tree and leaning him against it. He knelt back down after the raider was adequately positioned.

"Look, we both know you're hunting me," he continued sternly. "I also know that you've lost a good share of blood from your wounds and are losing more by the second. I'd say your chances are looking pretty slim at best. I'm not sure what the Keidran afterlife has in store for you, but how about you up your chances a bit and tell me what I want to hear. Who sent you and why?"

The raider smirked slightly, and the Basitin's yellow-eyed glare narrowed. "Sorry to hear that then," the wolf sneered, smugly. "'cause I don't know a damn thing."

"That's a lie and we both know it. Who sent you?"

"My employer has an array of agents at his disposal," the bandit continued, pausing momentarily to cough again. A number of red orbs flew out of his mouth, staining the earth next to Keith. "I never met him; he just gave us a name, face and price." He took a moment to observe the battlefield and his fallen comrades. "I can see why your prize is so high now," he chortled.

"That isn't the full story. What else?" Keith demanded.

"Nothing. That's all there is, Mister Keiser," the wolf whispered with smug satisfaction, as if Keith had just blundered in this chess match of a conversation. "I have nothing to share about them, so I can't betray them," and the wolf paused again to cough up more blood. "I will tell you we're not alone. There are plenty more of us on the way. You fended us off well, true, but how many of us can you break before you do?"

And the wolf started laughing, to Keith's blunted surprise. He continued to listen. "You are a marked man, and we will..." the wolf never finished his sentence, and his head rolled limply to the side as a red trickle began to flow out of his mouth.

Keith sighed heavily at the now deceased bandit, and passed a hand over his eyes. Basitin held high respect for the dead, up to and including mindless contract killers, and Keith tried to uphold his heritage wherever he could.

Still, the bandit's words were disconcerting, even to Keith. It wasn't a mercenary group after him like he initially thought. Somehow, Keith had managed to earn the ire of an entire section of the wolf nation, and from his observations, one that valued secrecy above almost everything else. He found it ironic how the chief diplomat and ambassador of the Basidian Isles was uncovering assassination bids and slaying bandits, two things that more or less fell under the exact antithesis of his job description.

Keith's ears twitched briefly as his companion approached from behind. "Did you get anything from him?" Natani asked, cursorily inspecting the bandit's body as he flipped his longbow over his shoulder. The scene produced mixed feelings for Natani; on the one hand, he too was a wolf Keidran, much like the bandits, and it felt somewhat uncomfortable taking down his own kind in this regard. But then again, he was provoked, and Natani was also a contract killer for hire whenever he wasn't with Keith, so how upset could this make him?

"Looks like we made a few enemies, Nat," Keith responded as he stood back up from his previously crouched position. "Do the Forest Wolves have much standing in organized crime?"

"Like a mafia? Not outside the major cities, no. Why do you ask?"

"I think someone's ordered a hit on me," Keith said with remarkable calmness given the subject matter.

Natani sighed at the Basitin. "Dammit, Keith. What did you do this time?"

"I'm actually not sure," Keith replied, thinking for a better response to that question but not finding one. "This isn't a government order either. Wolf tribe doesn't have too much incentive to kill an ambassador from a nation they haven't heard of much. This is a private deal."

"She'll want to hear about this, Keith."

"She'll have to. I'm her best link to mainland affairs."

Natani didn't say anything back. He was simply staring at forest floor, without expression. Keith knew what that posture meant, and reacted to it relatively quickly. "Nat, look. I'm fine," he tried to reassure the wolf. "Whoever sent these guys has no idea they failed yet, and we'll be long gone by the time they find out. We're in no immediate danger right now, so trust me when I say we'll get this sorted out."

"I know, Keith. And you will," Natani sighed again. "But you don't think that I can go somewhere with you where you are not at risk of getting killed?"

"I'll try to do that in the future, Nat," Keith responded with a small grin. "No promises, though. Now, we need a way back to the island. Any ideas?"

"Well, we can probably make it to the port town by nightfall. We can rest there, commission a ship in the morning and get on our way. All we're missing is the crew."

"Then I think I know who we're after," Keith said, almost as if he had this entire plan worked from the beginning.

Natani, conversely, was clueless. "Namely...?" he tried to coax.

"Just do some thinking. Who have we met in the past that has enough sailing experience to man a ship by themselves?"

Natani started to pace back and forth as he talked himself through this problem. "Our first option could be to just hire a crew ourselves, but Zen's done that in the past and they tend to charge more than the fair price, so let's scratch that idea. For now at least."

"Alright, what else?"

"We can try that blond haired human we sailed with to tiger country that one time."

"Eric," Keith clarified.

"Right, except we have no idea where he is now and considering that he is a tradesman, the chances he's at the port we're going to right now with nothing better to do are almost zero."

"Fair enough."

"Which means that the only people I can think of who will for sure be in town and available are..." Natani stopped his sentence once he deduced what the rest of it was going to be. He eyed Keith disapprovingly and slowly shook his head. "No..."

"They'll be the only ones around for it, Natani. You said it yourself. We don't have too many alternatives."

"But does it have to be them?" Natani asked reluctantly. "I can get Zen to send over some extra gold if we need to hire a crew."

"Nat," Keith said persuasively. "We're going to see them."

Natani opened his mouth to protest, but realized that it wouldn't change the Basitin's mind. Instead, he sighed a third time and replied, "Alright, when do you want to head out?"

The Boxing Fox was a Keidran-run pub that opened around a year ago in the harbor town, and by the two co-owners standards was a smashing success. The only complaint they could even consider throwing at it was that the establishment was slightly misnamed. Despite being a dog Keidran, Evals didn't really have that much boxer in him; if someone did have to assign him a "breed", then chocolate Labrador would probably the most accurate guess if not necessarily the most correct. Still, the name suggestion had a distinct ring to it, and if it was in the name of publicity and catchy rhyme schemes, then Evals considered the misnomer a very small sacrifice to make.

Evals and Mike, the second proprietor, were actually personal slaves to Eric Vaughan until recently, and the majority of their work involved maintaining and sailing his ship fleet, most noteworthy the Na'Rella. Mike never bothered to translate that name into something more familiar during his service there, and ever since the Grand Templar Trace Legacy bought his freedom it was hard to say he cared about it now. He and Evals wasted almost no time leaving that boat as soon as they got to dry land. That was also when they started having difficulties finding stable work in tiger country, mostly due to their almost entire background being in the sailing industry, and their work not really translating over to any available positions. Ultimately, and partially as a final resort, they decided to try their hand at entrepreneurship, and caught a ship back to the port city to found their new business.

And so far, the two friends have found it hard if not impossible to be upset with how they have done so far. Mike tended to handle business on the administrative level while Evals worked more on the customer service front, but with the end of the day quickly approaching, Mike was up front on the floor, getting ready to start cleanup while Evals finished running a rag over the sanded wood bar.

"Am I the only one who feels like we didn't have too many people come in today?" asked the fox Keidran as he set down a bucket of soap water and dunked a mop in it.

"No, because you're right. We didn't," Evals replied as he hung the damp rag up to dry. "Still though, rather just a few people come in as opposed to nobody, eh?"

"I suppose," Mike said as he made a few strokes across the pub's floor. "And I'm sure we're still in the black today; it's just the flow that scares me."

Evals chuckled a bit and walked towards Mike with a bottle of ale. "You're a very left-minded guy, Mike," he observed as he bit off and spat out the bottle's cork.

"And you're overly optimistic sometimes," Mike returned, smiling slightly as he dunked the mop back in the bucket and smeared it back across the wooden floor.

"Have to, we wouldn't get any customers otherwise," Evals said as he sat on one of the round tables next to Mike, waving the bottle in front of his friend. "Hey, considering how we got here, Mikey, I'd say we're sitting pretty right now. Am I right?" he asked as he swirled the bottle seductively under the fox's nose.

A small silence ensued, and then Mike sighed, grabbed the bottle and muttered, "Right," before grinning again and taking a brief swig of the ale. He quickly studied the bottle's label before handing it back to Evals. "Basitin ale?"

"Yeah, they know what to do when it comes to brewing. This is the good stuff," Evals happily answered as he went for a sip of his own.

"Don't get too wasted, Evals. At least wait until we're through with cleanup."

"Yeah, yeah," the dog replied and set the bottle on the table. "I'm going to move some of our stock up front for tomorrow," he informed Mike as the pub's front door was knocked upon from the outside.

Mike sighed and replaced the mop in the water bucket. "Ten minutes before closing," he noted, looking at the clock above the bar. "Honestly, it's like somebody, somewhere doesn't want us to close up early."

"Your turn," Evals flatly replied as he started towards the pub's storeroom door. "I dealt with that drunken mob last week after that soccer match, remember?" The Result That Will Live in Infamy, as it was now known, involved the hometown soccer club, a very questionable red card, and a penalty kick that put them out of a championship match. The pub was quite literally howling after that little spectacle and it took Evals nearly a half-hour to get everything quiet and moved out the door.

Mike finished his approach to the front door and slid back the wooden viewer. The dimming, setting sun illuminated the source, or rather sources, of the knocking: a Basitin in warrior's regalia with a slightly crooked right ear and a wolf Keidran with heterochromatic eyes and shoulder length brown hair. Mike nearly panicked and slammed the viewer shut once he fully identified the Basitin visitor; this was the same one that was on the Na'Rella back when he was still under Eric's command. The same one that had quite a bit of fun from deploying Basitin black magic during his travels. Mike was actually subjected to one of the more infamous spells of that particular arsenal, as was Natani: Keith had managed to alter both of their genders using the art, and Mike found the experience absolutely traumatizing. Slightly amusing in retrospect albeit, and Evals certainly tried to make the most of Mike's condition while he could, but it was still scarring, and the fox had troubles associating with Keith ever since. Then as if that wasn't enough, the Basitin followed it up by summoning a ghost shortly thereafter, one that very nearly haunted the Na'Rella, never mind what its intentions were. At least Mike wasn't alone for that one; Evals was also victimized by that fiasco as well, but at least he managed to cope with that incident and salvage some sort of friendly relation with Keith afterwards. Mike did not recuperate nearly as well.

But despite nearly fleeing for the pub's emergency exit as soon as the words "Hello, Mike," came across his ears, the fox decided to draw upon his courage, what little of that resource he had, and made an attempt to carry out some conversation with his old... Mike wasn't actually sure what he would classify Keith as. Acquaintance was a good compromise, he thought, and decided to stick with it.

"I get the feeling you two aren't here as customers," Mike noted, eyes slowly narrowing in Keith's direction as his statement progressed.

"We technically are," Keith replied, trying his best to come across as friendly to the fox, who looked like he was going to jump out of his fur in fright any second now. "We're not here for liquor though."

Mike's apprehension quickly made way for intrigue. "Then what are you here for?"

"We'd like to hire you. And Evals too, if he's around."

"Hire?" Mike asked with confusion. "What for? Evals and I are businessmen now. We work for ourselves."

"I need to get back to my homeland, Mike, and I know you and Evals are ex-crewmen from your time with Eric. We need you two on our deck to help sail the ship getting us there." Keith paused briefly before continuing. "Mind if we come in?" he requested, warmly and trying to keep his prospective crewmember calm.

Mike wasn't sure what to think about this offer. On the one hand, Keith was a harbinger of chaos as far as Mike was concerned, and the less time he spent around him the better. He was with Keith for two months on the Na'Rella and between Keith, all of his antics and the additional drama that was created as a result, Mike had about his fill of craziness and just plain absurdity on his sailing expeditions.

And then the positives of this job started coming to mind. For starters, Mike hadn't been at sea for extended periods of time ever since the pub was established, and he did miss the prospect of extended sailing somewhat. Evals probably missed it more than he did; he was quite literally a sea dog in that regard, and had he greeted these two instead he would have probably immediately accepted their offer.

He was not going to make this decision on his own, however. Keith had asked for both of their services after all, so Evals should have some input on the issue, even though Mike was all but certain what the answer would be. His mind made up, Mike shut the viewer, undid the main lock and opened the door for the two visitors. "Welcome to The Boxing Fox, then," Mike greeted with a hesitant but friendly grin. "You two need a drink?"

Chapter 2

"Keith? No Human."

"Oh, right. Sorry Natani," Keith responded to the wolf as they entered the otherwise vacated building. Keith removed his overcoat and hung it over a bar stool as he turned back to address Mike. "Mike, I know Keidran is effectively a second language for you, but, for Natani, do you think...?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah. Definitely." Mike nearly forgot that Natani, unlike most Keidran he knew, was not bilingual. So if he wanted any bearing on Keith's job offer, the talk would have to be in his native language. Mike cleared his throat and obliged. "Go ahead and take a seat. I'll get Evals from the back," he spoke with a slight Human accent and turned for the storeroom. Keith and Natani nodded and situated themselves at one of the circular tables.

Another bout of nervousness befell Mike as he retreated to Evals' location. He was in the strange position of both trusting and not trusting his prospective employer. Keith was a good guy and reputable in multiple ways, so why was he so uneasy around him? Maybe he was afraid of what he was capable of? Basitin black magic. Mike shuddered at the thought. He probably wouldn't be as nervous as he was if he hadn't witnessed and experienced its effects firsthand, and if he didn't suspect the Basitin would try it again, then he really had no reason to be worrying right now.

But he wasn't talking to Keith now. No, his next contact would be with someone he has known for much longer and trusted more than anyone else. And maybe once he was done talking with Evals his fears would be mostly if not completely alleviated. Mike tried to hold that thought as he opened the storeroom door. Just tell Evals what's going on in a calm, collected manner and receive his thoughts on the subject. It was that simple, and it could be achieved with an simpler procedure.

Walk through the storeroom door. Done.

"Hey, Mikey. Who's at the door?" Evals inquired as he finished moving a cask across the room.

Close the door to ensure privacy. Done.

"Everything alright?"

Deliver the job in a nice, calm tone...

"Evals! That Basitin is back and he's trying to get me onto a ship again!"

Critical error.

Even Evals was confused by the sudden and dramatic change in atmosphere. "One more time, and a little less panicked," he requested. "Something about a Basitin and a ship?"

Mike tried to collect himself from that outburst and tried saying something more coherent. "Alright, remember that Basitin from a couple years back we were sailing with? We dropped him off at the edge of tiger territory?"

"Yeah, with Flora and her friends. What about him?"

"He's in the pub right now with Natani and he's trying to hire us as a sailing crew."

Evals' ears perked. "And what did you tell him?" he asked with strong intrigue.

"Nothing yet, I wanted to get you!"

"Then let's stop making him wait! Come on!" exclaimed Evals with an overabundance of enthusiasm as he started pushing the still agitated fox towards the storeroom's door.

"Evals! Evals, wait a minute!" Mike protested as he was forcibly scooted across the floor.

"Quit being so dodgy, Mike. This'll be fun! Just you, me and them, out on the sea again! When was the last time we..."

Mike stopped himself in front of the door and turned around to face his friend directly. "You know what he did to me the last time I was on a ship with him, Evals!" he sternly pointed out.

The dog's excitement was quickly curbed by that statement. "What are you talking about?"

"Think hard," Mike replied with a good share of sarcasm.

It took Evals only a second to pick up the reference. "Oh, yes!" he interjected while a mischievous grin formed on his face. "That..."

"I don't want..." Mike paused briefly. "...Michelle to make a guest appearance on the ship this time around, if you know where I'm getting at."

"Yes, I believe I do." Evals spoke as his mind started to drift towards thoughts of that very, very lovable vixen. Who was also his best friend, but Evals really didn't care about that. As a person, Michelle was everything he dreamed of, and then some. It was a strange relationship, wherein Evals tried everything to win over Michelle but she continued to shoot down each attempt as it came. And her departure from the Na'Rella, as Mike could probably attest, was quite unfortunate to say the least. But that only made her unforgettable for the dog, and only drove his thoughts about her further...

His fantasy was cut short by Mike's snapping. "Evals! Topic at hand!"

"Oh, right," Evals hastily responded as he was unexpectedly yanked back to reality. "Um, look. I know you're not comfortable sailing with the Basitin after everything he did to you, and I completely understand if you want to..."

"It's not that I don't want to, I do. I think I just need to make it clear up front that I'm not going to put up with any of his party tricks, and..." Mike's sentence tampered off, unsure of how he should finish it.

"You want someone else to back you," Evals finished.

"Exactly. You...you can help me with this, right?"

Evals had an immediate answer to that question, but withheld it for a bit. "Oh, Mikey, don't make me decide between you and Michelle. We both know how that one's going to end..."

"E-Evals!" Mike cried with desperation.

"I'm kidding, bro! Of course I'll back you up here!" Evals laughed as he clapped a hand on Mike's shoulder. "I mean, what are friends for?"

"Apparently taking advantage of you under unlikable and dire circumstances."

"Spot on. Now let's get out there and see what kind of work our Basitin has for us," Evals said cheerfully as he opened the storeroom's door.

"Alright, alright. I, Keith Keiser of the Basidian Isles, do solemnly swear not to practice any known form of Basitin black magic, or any known variant thereof, upon my two prospective crew members, Mike and Evals, throughout the full duration of their employment under my name, so help me Gods."

"I thought Basitin black magic wasn't a thing," Natani whispered in slight confusion.

"And I am astonished they haven't picked up on that yet, but if it makes them feel better, then I'll play along." Keith turned back to Mike and Evals. "So can I put my hand down now and actually talk to you about the job?" The Basitin had no problems in taking an oath he had no means to break, but he did think the formality requirement of this one was a little excessive. However, results were hard to argue with. Mike finally looked at ease for probably the first time tonight, and that put Keith at ease too in a way. He always found level-headed people easier to talk to, doubly so when you were trying to hire them for something, and Keith wanted to ensure that stayed as such.

"So where we headed?" Evals asked first in between swigs of ale. He was the only one at the table with a drink in his hand, which Mike thought was a little unprofessional, but neither Keith nor Natani seemed to care about that at the moment.

"I need to get back to the island to give a report there, and I need you two to navigate and man the ship that'll get us there."

"I thought you got thrown off that island, Keith," Mike pointed out. "Twice, actually."

"That second time technically didn't count, Mike. That was more of a sendoff if anything. They wouldn't permanently kick me off there again if they wanted any updates from me."

"You'd think you could just send them a mail," the dog offered, taking another drink. "It'd be a little easier, wouldn't you think?"

"It would, if the postal service there wasn't completely internal," Keith blandly answered. "International mail is not a thing where I come from."

"Magical long-range communication isn't an option either," Natani added on. "Basitins and magic don't have a history of getting along well."

"So the only way to get in touch with them, then, is to visit them in person," Mike inferred.

"And that's why we're here," Keith concluded.

"Not to sound insensitive," Evals said as he sipped once more from the bottle. "But your people seem very, very hard to get in touch with."

"Well, you can't live in seclusion without some negative side effects, so I have to work with what I'm dealt," Keith responded, slightly irked at the system as well. But that wasn't the talking point tonight. "So what do you two think?"

"How about a ship, for starters?" Mike began. Despite his previous disposition towards this job, he wanted to ensure that this trip caused as few problems as possible for its duration. Almost everyone at the table knew that the fox would probably be the most susceptible to panic, Mike himself included, so the less this expedition tried to invoke that response, the better off everyone would be. "It doesn't have to be as large as the Na'Rella was, but she'll need room for four. And a decent-sized cargo hold for supplies."

"The harbormaster and quartermaster are open all day tomorrow," Natani spoke up. "We'll commission a ship, get supplies sorted out, and hopefully get cast off before noon. Keith and I will handle particulars; we just need you two to sail it." Natani bit his tongue immediately afterwards, no less apprehensive about and no more confident in the abilities of the dog and fox. But if Keith was sure that his hopes of getting home were in the hands of two Keidran that were probably more qualified to be comedic relief than shipmen, then Natani would just need to hold back his objections for the time being.

"The trip will probably take two weeks, one way," Evals added on as he finished off the bottle and tossed it into a nearby trash bin. "Not as long as the Na'Rella expedition was but still pretty lengthy. Probably longer depending on how long you're thinking on staying there. You guys sure you have the resources to make it?"

"Absolutely," Keith affirmed. "We have more than enough funds to get the ship, supplies, and anything else we might need. Again, let me and Natani make this happen. You two are just going to be the crewmen," he restated as he detached a medium-sized coin pouch from his belt. "This is actually a good springboard into the topic you two are probably most interested in."

"That being?" Evals asked.

"Payment," Keith answered, tossing the pouch onto the table with a metallic clank as it landed. Keith continued as Mike picked it up and got to work untying the rope knot. "That's for you two. It's about a month's worth of lost profit in closing this place up, plus a decently sized stipend for your troubles as well."

The knot finally came loose and Mike tossed the rope aside as he opened the pouch and peered inside. His eyes went wide as Evals leaned over to take a look of his own. The bag was stuffed with gold coins, five hundred at the least. "This is a small fortune..." Mike unnecessarily noted, stunned at the amount the Basitin was willing to part with for his employment.

"Where'd all the cash flow come from?" Natani asked. He'd been traveling with Keith for a long time, but this was the first time he had seen such a large transaction involve him.

"Being a general has its perks, Nat, and one of them is a good paycheck," Keith replied, almost in an esteemed tone. "A runner dropped off my salary about a month back, and I'd been holding it in case something like this happened."

The Basitin turned his attention back to the other two Keidran, still gawking at their eventual take from the job. Or at least until Keith decided to edit the "eventual" part. "You're free to take that in advance if you like, but I need a response from you first. We have a deal?"

Mike and Evals wasted no time at all answering that question. "Deal!" they exclaimed chorally.

"Brilliant," Keith replied with satisfaction as he stood up from his chair. "Natani and I will get everything set up then. Thanks for doing this for us."

"Sure thing!" Evals beamed, his tail excitedly wagging behind him. "Sure thing!"

Mike, however, looked a little more worried. "Hey, wait a minute. When did you say we were leaving?"

"Tomorrow, at noon," Natani answered as Keith pulled his overcoat back on. In no way was he looking forward to sailing with these two clowns, so he figured the more authority he asserted over them, the more work they'd get done and the shorter this trip would feel. "We're casting off as soon as all of our supplies get loaded, so, please, try not to be late getting there."

The dog and fox looked at each other with apprehension, then back at the wolf.

"Tomorrow?" Mike asked skeptically.

"You're serious?" Evals inquired hesitantly.

"Is there a problem?" Natani demanded confusedly.

"Well..." Mike started.

"Tomorrow's Friday," Evals woofed.

Natani waited for a few seconds for a follow-up but never got one. "And...?"

"Nat, it's bad luck to start a voyage on a Friday," Keith informed the wolf. "I think that's what they're going for."

"It was?" Mike asked before Evals' heel struck his shin, prompting him to clear his throat and more confidently assert, "It was."

Natani was not convinced. "Alright, what's going on?" he said, scowling at the two Keidran sailors.

"You see," Evals sheepishly admitted. "Mike and I might already have plans for that evening."

All Natani could say in response to that was, "Eh?"

"Harbourtown FC is playing that night," Mike explained, his enthusiasm gradually building. "And Evals and I were going to attend it."

"Thought they lost their last match," Keith posited with interest. Natani looked down at him skeptically, as if all of this was a gigantic joke and Keith was somehow in on it.

"Yeah, it was their semifinal," Mike explained, his mood slightly dampened but undeterred. "But they're still playing for third in the league, and we wouldn't miss their last game of the season!"

"We already picked up the tickets and everything!" Evals smiled as he pulled two colored stubs of paper out of his pants pocket. "Game kicks off at six..." His voice trailed off as his gaze shifted towards Natani, his hand covering his face almost as if he had given up on the conversation at hand entirely.

"Aw, don't look so down, Natani!" Evals tried to assuage the wolf, his tail still gently wagging. "What with the advance Keith gave us, we could probably get you in too!"

"No, no, it's alright," Natani sighed as he started shaking his head. "Have fun."

"We have a scarf you can borrow!" Mike cheerfully offered as he pulled the article in question out of the knapsack propped against his chair and held it above his head. He then turned his head to the side and puzzlingly looked at Natani. "You have a cold or something?"

Natani gave the blue and grey striped cloth an uninterested, cursory inspection while he continued to exasperatedly decline the offer. "Really, I'm fine. Soccer's not really my sport anyways."

Mike and Evals suddenly began staring at Natani as if he had just confessed to murder. Mike's scarf also fell out of his hands and glided down onto the table, hanging over the edge like a strip of bacon that didn't quite land in the frying pan.

"Soccer is not really your sport?" Mike repeated.

"What the hell does that mean?" Evals pried.

Keith saw where this conversation was going almost immediately. "We should probably get out of here and find some rooms for the night, right Natani?" he interrupted as he began escorting the wolf to the pub's door.

"Those morons..." Natani muttered, vigorously massaging his temples.

"We'll see you two Saturday morning, alright?" Keith called back to the two Keidran.

"We'll be there!" Evals happily responded.

"Hope you feel better soon, Natani!" Mike said as he waved goodbye.

"Nice for him to apologize for the headache he gave me," Natani cynically grumbled as he walked out the pub's front door while Keith held it.

And before the Basitin made his exit from the building, he waited for his traveling partner to venture out of earshot. He then turned to the dog and fox, smiled slightly and said, "Enjoy the game," before departing.

Chapter 3

The clock tower chimed quarter to twelve, and Natani grew even more impatient. He was leaned against the harbor's wooden fence, blankly observing Keith hammer out the particulars of the ship acquisition while Human and Keidran dockhands moved materials and supplies into the cargo bay of the Quantum; whatever exactly a "quantum" was Natani would probably never know. The term definitely had a scientific ring to it, and Natani could respect that to an extent. Alchemy was, after all, an art of the trade for contract assassins. But as to the actual definition, Natani was clueless.

On the topic of clueless, where in the world were Mike and Evals? With the planned castoff time less than fifteen minutes out and their whereabouts currently unknown, Natani was starting to get the idea that they had effectively chiseled their way out of this contract. It was for this reason Natani never paid for anything up front; it is very easy to skip out on obligations when people do. And just the thought of letting two Keidran mutually sharing the same brain cell cheat him and Keith out of a huge sum of cash left an awful taste in his mouth.

Natani really was unsure of why he had such a bad disposition towards them, and he earnestly thought the answer had to be a little more substantial than "because they're dimwits." If he was willing to look past their low intelligence, they were actually very likable Keidran: personable, charming, humorously incompetent at times, which the wolf had a difficult time classifying as either a good thing or bad. They were loyal above everything else, however, and that was probably the only reason Natani wasn't out hunting them down right now. He knew that they were put through a lot during their... involuntary servitude, and in all likelihood they could have given up on each other at any point during that period. Natani could only revere that quality, and he figured that if they were as loyal to each other as they were to their contractors, then really he shouldn't be fretting anything.

Unfortunately, that also left him doing the one thing he abhorred passionately: waiting. Natani sighed and slumped down to a sitting position against one of the fence posts, unsure of what else can be done at the present time.

"Honestly, Nat, you really need to stop worrying as much as you do. It's not good for the blood pressure," a voice called in Natani's head as he glanced nonchalantly to his right. Sitting against the adjacent post, legs crossed and looking as content as ever, was a projection of Zen, Natani's older brother and partner-in-arms when he was around for it. Of course, Zen was on the far end of the continent now, which meant that he was taking jobs just as a solo operative. This was nothing new for the siblings, but complications tended to arise when the prospective employer came looking for the Magi Brothers and could only find one. And Zen's performance without his younger sibling's support... tended to vary, and that was probably the nicest way Natani could word it.

"You're in a good mood, Zen," Natani noted, then sniffed the air curiously as a scent drifted by. "Does something smell like alcohol?"

"Ah, sorry about that," Zen confessed with a slightly embarrassed grin. "Took yesterday off for the Blackwood match last night. Haven't had a chance to clean up yet. Shoulda been there, we had a viewing orb set up and everything."

"And how did it go?" Natani asked with forced interest. He may be the one person who did not really care about the sport, but the least he could do was humor everyone else about it.

"Our first half was crap, but we pulled it together in the second. Not gonna spoil it though, in case you hear about it somewhere else."

"How considerate," Natani flatly replied, his pretended interest long since evaporated.

"But enough of me, little brother. How have you been?" Zen inquired, then turned his head to spot Keith still conversing with the harbormaster. "What's your favorite Basitin been up to lately?" he then teasingly followed up.

Natani would have loved to slug Zen at that point had he been a little more real, so he begrudgingly let that little snippet slide. "We're headed back to the Basidian Isles. Keith and I had a run-in with some wolf bandits, and apparently their employers really want us out of the way for something."

"Ugh, that sounds fun," Zen remarked with an infusion of sarcasm and sympathy. "So, what does this have to do with the trip?"

"Well, Keith, in addition to being a general, is also the head of Basitin foreign affairs. He was originally sent to help diffuse the Human-Wolf situation..."

"With you, of course," Zen jokingly interrupted. "You know, neutrality and all that fun stuff."

"Shuddup, Zen," Natani hushed before continuing. "...but now that someone has just ordered a hit on a diplomat, we need to know what happens next. And since the only good way to do so right now is to see them in person, here we are. Keith's booking a boat, you're talking to me, and..." Natani stood up and quickly looked around the docks. "Where are those two?"

"Who are we looking for?" Zen asked as he stood up and began surveying the harbor as well.

"Two Keidran. One fox and one dog," Natani explained. "Keith hired them as crew a couple days ago, we're set to sail in about ten minutes, and I have no idea where they are."

"It's alright, Nat. Let's just think this through," Zen offered to help. "Do you know what they would have been doing last night?"

"I know they had plans to attend a soccer match. Who was their team...?" Natani struggled to remember. "Blue and grey was the color scheme..." he recalled, thinking back on the scarf from the night before last.

"Was it Harbourtown?" Zen proposed with a smirk on his face.

"That was it, Harbourtown FC," Natani nodded as he turned to face his brother again. "Zen, what's that smile for?" he asked skeptically.

"Nothing..." Zen tried to dodge through a small but suppressed laughing fit. "Nothing at all."

"Really, Zen. What are you thinking about?"

Zen covered his mouth with his hand as Natani's ears picked up Evals' voice emanating from the far end of the port. "It's unbelievable, Mike! How do you throw a two-nil lead in forty-five minutes or less? Seriously, how is that physically possible?"

Natani had a severely limited Human vocabulary, and Zen's was only marginally larger, but he did know what the expressions "two-nil" and "forty-five" correlated to. At which point, any pretense of Zen's composure was done away with as his small, chuckling trickle escalated into a roaring river of laughter. Natani casually looked over at her brother again, his expression a bit more understanding than it was previously.

"I think I know who Blackwood played, and I think I know how it ended."

"It ended 3-0 on penalties too! This is beautiful!" Zen managed to choke out.

"You sadistic little dog, you," Natani teased. "Never saw you as one to enjoy another's losses."

"To which I say, one man's garbage is another's treasure!" Zen fired back, recovering from his outburst. "I kinda want to hear what they have to say about it. Can you ask them for me? The dog especially?"

"Why? You already know how it ended, Zen. What can you possibly get out of them saying what you already know?"

"Well, they don't know who I am, and they don't know we're diehard Blackwood fans."

"Wrong. It's just you."

"Yeah, whatever. Plus, I thought you'd enjoy the prospect of screwing with two guys that have been screwing with you."

"Uh huh," Natani replied, unconvinced. "I'll think about it. In the meantime, I'll get back to you on the ship. Need to make sure these fools are geared and ready to go."

"Don't hang up on me, Nat! I want to hear this!" Zen begged, and then casually reached over with one arm and hugged Natani. "Please? For me?"

"Shuddup, Zen!" Natani snapped with annoyance.

"Natani, are you talking to yourself again?" Mike confusedly asked.

Natani shuddered a bit as the fox interrupted his conversation. He hated when that happened, enough to the point where he half-wished that someone besides him could see Zen and know that he wasn't crazy.

"I wasn't talking to myself, Zen was here," Natani clarified as Mike stared at him in befuddlement.

"And still am," Zen corrected, smirking and waving a hand at Natani. "I love when that happens to you, by the way."

"Right," Mike nodded unconvinced, almost humoring the wolf. He then looked up and examined the ship's exterior. "So who's this?"

Natani froze for a bit until he figured out Mike was referring to the ship, then turned to it and started explaining its features. "That's the Quantum, and as soon as Keith is done with the harbormaster and you two get situated, we'll get on our way. As you two requested, it has..."

"It?" Mike and Evals asked in conjoined bewilderment, and Natani could have sworn Zen joined in on that interjection as well.

Natani sighed as he corrected yet another breach in maritime etiquette. "She has ample storage space and housing for six: four for us and then an extra two if we need them. You guys have the rooms on C Deck, so go ahead and get your things moved in. We still have a few minutes."

"We'll check it out. Thanks, Natani!" Mike replied as he hoisted a large brown sack over his shoulder, containing clothes and personal effects Natani assumed. Evals followed suit with a notable lack of enthusiasm as the two crewmen began their walk up the wooden bridge to the ship's main deck.

"Oh, and Evals?" Natani politely asked as the dog trekked up the bridge.

"Yeah, what?" he acknowledged over the ship's railing, tired and aloof.

Natani tried his best to look innocent for his next statement. "How was the match last night?"

"No, don't!" Mike tried to intervene, in an attempt to end the ensuing conversation before it had a chance to begin. But he was too late.

"It was horrible! A total embarrassment!" Evals yelled with fervor over Zen's all-but-maniacal laughter. "We had it, we had it in our hands, and we threw it, dammit Natani! We threw it hard! Then once the second half ended..."

"He gets very, very sore about this kind of stuff," Mike explained to Natani over Evals' rant, in a much cooler tone comparatively. "Long story short, Blackwood forced extra time and won it in PKs. It was a good match objectively."

"And an even better one subjectively," Zen pointed out.

"I'll take him downstairs and we'll get the ship prepped after," Mike continued calmly, almost as if these outbursts were common enough to the point where they could be disregarded. "Don't worry about him, he'll be fine," he reassured Natani as he began to gently escort the livid dog down below the main deck.

"I love you, Nat," Zen charmingly stated, beaming for a second before something else caught his attention. "Looks like Keith's headed back, by the way."

Natani turned his gaze away from the ship's now vacated deck back to the harbormaster, who was shaking hands with the Basitin, concluding their business. "You better head out then," he advised the older sibling. "Keith and I need to talk over a few more things. Alone."

"Ah, indeed," Zen complied. "I think I have some work to do as well, now that I think about it. I'll get back to you later then, brother. Once you're through with your...private conversation."

Natani was not entirely comfortable with how Zen emphasized the penultimate word of that sentence, but waved it off and nodded slightly instead, and then mentally severed the connection as Zen's projection evaporated from against the fencepost. Keith finished approaching his newly commissioned ship and looked over the exterior. The hull of the Quantum appeared to be stained and polished elm from first glance, with steel rivets keeping her together. Actually, the blueprints weren't that deviant from the Na'Rella. Of course, the interior would be significantly roomier, simply due to the lesser number of required living quarters, but on the outside, it was difficult to find too many differences.

"So, what do you think?" Keith asked, hands in his pockets, silently satisfied with how the harbormaster set him up.

"If it floats, it'll work," Natani blankly remarked. He did not know much if anything about sailing, nor ships in general; that's what Keith hired the two soccer junkies for. As long as he wasn't getting wet, then the ship was doing its job.

"Mike and Evals are getting settled," Natani continued. "And it looks like the dockhands are wrapping up supplies as well. Once we move in, it shouldn't be long before we're headed home."

"Yeah," Keith nodded, almost nostalgically. "Home." His relations with the Basidian Isles could probably be best described as sinusoidal. First he was an outcast, then he was a hero, then he was a war criminal, then he was a general for a cabinet position that didn't even exist until he was appointed by the High King. It was one hell of a ride to say the very least, but that didn't make him any less of a Basitin, or that island any less a home.

He was lost in his thoughts about that island, his parents, and probably Alaric most of all. Nikolai Alaric, one of his oldest friends and allies. Keith probably wouldn't have cleared up his name or gotten to where he was without his help, and was hard to say he didn't think about him on a regular basis. He was master general for the king's court for the island as well, which effectively put him one step below the king's position on the authority chain. Admirable, yet Keith would probably never get accustomed to not calling him "sir" now that their ranks were evened.

"Oy, boss!" Mike waved at the Basitin, and it took Keith a few moments to realize that he was the one being addressed. Yet another nickname that he would never get used to, at least as far as this trip was concerned. "Meet us downstairs when you can, eh? Evals and I need to get a route straightened out."

"Yeah, I'll be there in a minute," Keith replied as the fox scampered back down below the main deck. Natani looked at him, puzzlingly. It's been a while since Keith had seemed so on edge, like he was holding something back, and Natani didn't like it that much.

"Everything okay?" he ventured.

"Just nerves, is all," Keith answered, quickly yet hesitantly. "Not sure what I'm so anxious over."

"You didn't do anything wrong, if that's what the concern is," Natani reassured, then made an intriguing inference. "Wait a minute, isn't this..."

"This'll be my first time back to the island," Keith finished, and Natani could have sworn he was fighting back a tear or two as he said this. "As an actual citizen."

Prince Clovis leaned back in his chair and exhaled audibly into his hands, allowing his frustrations to exit along with the air. He reopened his eyes and glared at his tiger lieutenant across from his desk. Thom was not the right man to be angry at here, and Clovis was well aware of that. And yet this is the fourth, no, fifth time this week he had delivered this sort of news, that his operatives have been killed on job, and not at Templar hands either. Or any sort of government for that matter. Sanctioned hits he could handle; he had plenty of spies in the Wolf tribe's governing bodies for exactly that sort of emergency. But this, this was personal: An economic attack of sorts, and that sort of affront was absolutely unacceptable in his book.

"At the very least tell me that they did not go unidentified," Clovis seethed, his deepened breathing not helping to any great extent. "At least say we know who they are."

"I'm sorry, sir, but our source says their faces were covered," Thom reported with dissatisfaction. Professionalism aside, he was probably just as angry as Clovis was at this time, perhaps even more so. This was a basic heist, almost fundamental, and yet his best operatives continued to be killed by an unknown organization time and again. He probably held more responsibility than the prince did come to think of it; why would he need two master thieves to pick a simple lock, hijack a set of valuable jewelry and then practically dance out of the back door of the store when he could gotten almost the same result with a few peons? What was he possibly thinking?

"Small details, Thom," Clovis continued to press for information impatiently. "Eye color, fur pattern, favorite drink, give me something!"

"Judging from the fur tone and ears, it looks like the hit men were wolves too," the tiger reported. "I have some of my men digging through our past contracts. Maybe we got on someone's nerves."

"You don't say!" Clovis sarcastically and quietly spouted off as he stood up and flipped the red hood of his cape off his head. "I don't have issues with other guilds running heists in our districts; that's just business and it happens. I take it personally when they begin to directly interfere with my projects, Thom."

"I feel your pain, sir," the tiger responded, blandly yet empathetically. "And I promise I will get to the bottom of this."

"And I'm sure you will," Clovis added, turning to the window behind the desk, gazing out on the night sky and the wolf city's illumination. "Tomorrow I want you to scout out every district of this city, and I need to know exactly what is going on with these hits. Maybe some of our friends have had similar issues."

"Where would you like me to start, sir?"

"Try our contacts at the Red Arrow house first. They've always been good to us, one of our more loyal patrons at that as well. See what they have to tell you."

"I'll get to work on it, sir," Thom acknowledged and began to exit Clovis' office. "I'll take my leave then. Have a good night, sir," he politely said as he pulled the large doors to the office open.

"I'll try," Clovis sighed to himself as he heard the gentle click of the latch sliding back into place.

Tonight was quiet. An oddity in this city to be sure, but Clovis tried to enjoy them when and where he could. It was a good time to...reset mentally. Clovis loved being in control, probably one of the larger reasons he ran one of the most successful organized crime circles in the Western Forests. But he viewed his profession like a chess match, where even the best minds can become exhausted quickly without proper respite. And after a long day of bribing officials, forging documents and lifting heirlooms, this type of mental vacation was almost perfect for a crime lord.

But many things can break the immersion, and this recent development was just one of them. Clovis breathed heavily again and ran his hands through his very light tan, nearly white hair, trying to relieve some of his stress. He didn't mind the casualties as much as he should, it was what would follow after that scared him. His ring was all but untouchable, and if he couldn't carry out his operations, then his infrastructure would surely disintegrate shortly after. Clovis tried to kill that paralyzing thought quickly; something like that could keep him up for days on end.

At least, if the ring did crumble, he'd at least be able to slip into a mage guild of some sort, or find some other way to extort his magical capabilities. Being well-trained in the arts had its benefits, and that was actually how Clovis got most of his business done. Run into someone with a crisis only his magic could solve, put them in debt, have them work it off through heists and other various odd jobs, rinse and repeat. It almost never failed and was a surefire way to generate some easy cash under his name. Yet another item Clovis could never get enough of.

The half-fox, half-wolf's ears twitched as he heard the doors to his office reopening, followed shortly by Thom's voice. "Forgive the intrusion, sir," he politely requested, holding the door open from the outside. "Am I interrupting?"

"Not in the slightest, my friend," Clovis answered, casually glancing at the tiger over his left shoulder. "What is it?"

"Asking only for safety reasons, but should I remove the job listings for tomorrow, at the risk of losing more men?"

"No, leave them up," Clovis quickly answered, mentally appending, As if I would authorize a plan to cut profits. "But if anybody takes one, send a two or three-man security detail with them. I like to protect my investments." He paused to think for a way to incentivize this sort of impromptu escort for his underlings. "Cut them in...five percent of the guild's take, each." Any more than that and he'd have to sit down in panic.

"Absolutely, sir," Thom complied. "Good night, sir."

"You as well," Clovis returned, but then he raised an eyebrow as he more thoroughly inspected his lieutenant. "Actually, Thom, would you approach me for a second before you leave?"

The tiger looked confusedly at his employer as he shut the door and obeyed, stepping forward to about the same spot he was previously. "What is it, sir?"

"I could have sworn that..." Clovis started, gesturing to his face, below the eye. But he then waved it off and turned back to his window. "Never mind, it was nothing."

"Sir?"

"You're welcome to correct me, but it's your face, Thom. For the longest time, I thought you had three stripes underneath your left eye. But now it looks like you have..."

"Two," came the response, in a voice that was definitely not the tiger's, but one Clovis recognized nevertheless. "You're more observant than I thought."

Clovis whirled around and was only half-surprised to see that Thom had disappeared from the room and that a wolf had taken his place. He was dressed in a black hooded shirt and was in the process of tossing a depleted mana crystal off to the side of the office. His face was stern and powerful, and Clovis identified the intruder immediately as the crystal skittered across the wood floor.

"Hello, Clovis," Zen blankly greeted the prince.

Chapter 4

The room was dead silent for a full two minutes if not more as Zen and Clovis simply stared at each other, waiting for the other to make the first action. It has been far too long since their last encounter, and Zen was ardently trying not to break that streak. Until recently, of course. He still passionately despised Clovis as a person, and if it could have been anyone else it would have. But this was an exception to say the least, as much as he would hate to admit it, and so, here he was.

Clovis began to slowly reach for the mechanical switch underneath his desk for security, trying hard not to let Zen notice. "I'd ask how you got in here, but I'm not sure if that's relevant now," he tried to talk the assassin down as his hand inched closer to the switch.

Zen saw through the ploy almost instantly, and suddenly disappeared in a puff of black smoke. Clovis' eyes widened as they darted around the office in a brazen attempt to figure out where he could have gone, until a tight choke hold from behind answered the question for him. It was at this time he also noticed a steel gauntlet strapped around Zen's right arm, a slick, slender blade protruding from underneath and pointed downward just above Clovis' collarbone.

"Nice blade," Clovis nonchalantly noted. This wasn't the first time he had been threatened in his career, and he had become rather resilient to the intimidation tactic as a result.

"Gift from Natani," Zen elaborated, unmoved by Clovis' unwillingness to take this situation seriously. "You try and screw around at all and it goes right into your heart. Understood?"

"You're not going to kill me, Zen. Not yet at least."

"Give me a reason not to," Zen forcefully stated, probing at Clovis' neck a couple times with the blade.

"If you wanted me dead, we wouldn't be talking right now. You need me for something, and only I know how to make it happen." Clovis turned his head slightly to better see eye-to-eye with the assassin. "Am I not correct?" he asked for confirmation, even though he was sure he didn't need it.

Zen continued to glare at the half-fox for a moment, then retracted the blade back into the gauntlet with a slight slick and relinquished his hold. "Someone's after Natani," Zen explained as he slowly paced back to the other side of the desk Clovis had just collapsed onto.

"How dreadful," Clovis dryly replied, catching his breath again. "Seriously, if you need my help, you're going to need a better reason than that."

"I thought you'd say something like that," Zen confessed, still fixated on Clovis.

"Then why bring it up?" Clovis inquired intently. "You forget that you lost almost all favor with me after that debacle at the masquerade. She had one target for that entire job. It was a simple in-and-out, and even she managed to gum it up."

"You gave us bad intelligence on that job to begin with, Clovis, and you know it!" Zen started to shout, but then quieted himself, relaxed and continued after a sigh. "Look, that was a long time ago, and that's not what this is about. You're a man of business from what you've shown me. So let's just do that: talk business."

Clovis went silent for a few moments and then reclined back in his chair. "I'm listening, but you're not off to the best of starts," he replied, tapping the tips of his fingers together.

Zen mentally sighed with relief. It worked. Clovis would not be an easy guy to work with, but simply getting him to listen to the issue was a victory itself. He cleared his mind and began relating the tale. "My brother works as an escort for..."

"Sister, Zen," Clovis interrupted, eyes closed with disdain. "Let's be literal here."

Zen shot Clovis a stare of contempt before continuing. "...as an escort for a Basitin diplomat, and he was recently attacked by a wolf war band in the area. They weren't injured, however, and the war band was entirely eliminated."

"This story had better get interesting soon," Clovis interjected again, trying to get to the root of this proposal. "So they bumped into a group of bandits, oh dear. Why do I care?"

"They were a hit squad," Zen explained, and Clovis' ears perked up from a previously flat position. "Someone hired these thugs to find them and put them down, and from what I've heard from Natani, they're pretty close by."

"Intrigue..." Clovis said, smiling slightly as his attention was now fully restored.

"From what one of the dying bandits told Natani, these guys are pretty far underground. Highly secretive, agents everywhere, nobody knows they even exist, but I have to stop them before they can get to Natani again. So what I need you to do..."

"You want to put my spies to work," Clovis finished.

Zen nodded slightly. "So what do you think?"

"I think that, as remarkable as this little conundrum is, you lost me as a friend quite some time ago, Zen," Clovis retorted, still wearing that devious grin Zen had come to loathe with time. "Information has become a very pricy commodity and I tend to charge high for these types of jobs. Stop me if I'm wrong, but I don't think even you can provide the funds I need to get this done. So much as I enjoyed this little talk, I can't help you with this."

Zen's stare narrowed as Clovis reached underneath his desk again. "Now, if you'd excuse me..."

"I know about the assassinations, Clovis," Zen coolly interrupted, and Clovis froze momentarily as his hand hovered over the security switch. "I know you're losing agents left and right, someone is muscling in on your turf."

"How do you know about that?" the half-fox sternly demanded, eyes narrowing.

"Is that important?" Zen returned, not bothering to allot time for an answer. "Here's my proposition. You're right; I don't have the cash to pay you. But I can do something better. The way I see it, you'd be doing me a huge favor by finding this intelligence for me. So I'd like to do you one."

"Where exactly are you going with this?" Clovis asked, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

"It's straightforward, really," Zen succinctly elaborated. "You tell me whatever you can about my organization, and I'll put down whoever's pulling the strings on those hits of yours."

Clovis raised an eyebrow as he took in the terms of this agreement, but then closed his eyes and smirked again. "You know you're not the only assassin in the world, Zen. I could hire anybody else and get practically the same result."

"That they'd all be dead?" Zen fired back sharply, causing the devious smile to drop quickly from Clovis' face in favor of a more surprised look. "These guys are smart from what I've collected. They're perceptive. As soon as they smell a rat, they're going to jump on it, and your new hire's as good as dead." He paused momentarily to let that sink in, and then concluded. "If you want to find this guy and get him out of the way, you know that I'm the only one who can make it happen. Much like you're the only one who can find this info for me."

Zen walked forward and leaned on the desk, looking Clovis right in the eyes with intensity. "Clovis, as much as I hate you, I need to find out who these guys are as quickly as possible. I took a damn big risk coming here for your help, and all I'm asking is for you to do the same."

Clovis stared down Zen in a similar fashion, and the room once more fell silent. At least until Clovis started laughing, but not maniacally or maliciously like Zen had been accustomed to. This actually appeared somewhat genuine, and Zen was slightly taken back by it. "This is spectacular, nothing short of it!" Clovis exclaimed during his recovery. "My, my, Zen. I had no idea you could be so persuasive."

"I'm going to take this as a yes, then."

Clovis continued speaking, not bothering to address that remark. "I already have some of my associates digging through whatever we have. Not to degrade their efforts but it will take some time before we hit a lead on our mystery assailant. I'll have one of them meet you when that happens."

"And my info?" Zen pressed.

"Well, I have to incentivize this meeting somehow, now don't I?" Clovis rhetorically asked, smirking again and cocking an eyebrow. "Don't worry, you'll be getting whatever snippets of intelligence I can dig up as I find them, but only if I know you're holding up your end as well. You do your part, I'll do mine."

"Fine, then," Zen agreed. He didn't expect anything less from Clovis, provided how stingy and paranoid he was. The terms were acceptable, or at the very least, as good as they were going to get. "What else do you need from me?"

"I'm going to need a way to contact you indirectly while we're working together, so I'll be intruding on that little link between you and your sister every now and again with the updates. I'm sure you won't mind."

"Natani might, though. How would you do that anyways?"

"You forget that I installed that mental link to begin with," Clovis stated, matter-of-factly, gently tapping the side of his forehead. "My magic, my rules. So she's going to have to get accustomed to hearing me. Again."

Zen exhaled audibly as he remembered that little feature. He hadn't seen it in use much after his previous contract ended with the half-fox, but Clovis did use it on a regular basis during that time. The request to use it again seemed almost unnecessary, superficial somewhat. Maybe it was simply out of courtesy, seeing as how he hadn't accessed it in a while.

"I'll let her know tomorrow," Zen said as he began to turn towards the door, then paused and turned back to the crime lord. "I just want you to know, I still don't trust you."

"Nor do I you. But alas, that's how business is done. It starts with no trust, and it gradually accumulates. Here, I'll begin," Clovis offered as he shut his eyes, rested his elbows on the desk and placed two fingers on each temple. A brief silence ensued, then he relaxed his arms and reopened his eyes.

"And, what was that?" Zen asked with confusion.

"That was me telepathically telling my security detail to not be alarmed when you walk out those doors. Through a mental link similar to yours. This is your first test, my friend. How confident are you about leaving this area without getting their attention?"

Zen was not particularly fond of how that question was worded, but the message was perfectly clear. Clovis seemed almost too enthusiastic about this job. So either he had something up his sleeve, or he was really pleased that someone had come to fix one of his larger problems. Either way, Zen decided to play along.

"I'll keep you posted," Zen answered as he strode towards the office exit. Or, at least he was until Clovis interrupted him again.

"Oh, and one final thing, Zen," he called to the assassin. "In regards to Thom. Please tell me you didn't outright kill him?"

Zen opened the door and noticed the guards on either side standing perfectly still, looking at Zen without interest or intent, and then staring back at the far wall.

"You'll see him tomorrow," Zen replied over his shoulder as he formally exited the office.

Natani was actually impressed somewhat at the fluidity of this expedition. Already they were two days into the trip and so far there was not anything too negative to speak of. Well, actually the deck activities of Mike and Evals tended to be on the noisier side, which they explained by saying that sea shanties were for morale more than anything, and that it didn't matter if they were off-key more than were on and couldn't keep time with a watch. The sea enjoyed hearing music, Evals argued, and it didn't matter how badly it sounded objectively. The soul was there, and that was all that mattered.

Still though, it would have been nice for them to create some harmony together. So Natani tried to look for other aspects of the trip to enjoy in the place of peace and quiet. At least the scenery was quite nice, despite being numbed slightly by Evals and his staunch refusal to wear a shirt while on duty. Natani wasn't sure if that plain, medium grey short-sleeve he always wore on the Na'Rella was supposed to be uniform under Eric's command, and apparently that was no longer relevant. While Mike didn't mind sporting the article while he was operating the ship, the dog conversely seemed perfectly content without one, grey or otherwise.

Natani couldn't say it was unconventional however, especially since the concept of dignity amongst Keidran was considered optional more so than obligatory. As a direct result, half-dressed Keidran were a relatively common sight in almost any society, and that was doubly so when working in hard labor. There was actually a simple anthropological reason behind this behavior. Since Keidran did not have the luxury of possessing sweat glands, they had cool themselves using other methods.

And in the case of Evals, those methods included disrobing and, as if the cacophony of his horrid singing wasn't bad enough, panting. After a good session of lifting, running and heavy work in general, Evals made it a point to sit down, preferably next to Natani somewhere for a reason she could not discern, and rapidly, heavily breathe next to her for a few minutes, while Natani stared down at him quizzically. The strange part about this little routine was that Evals looked quite content doing what the wolf would have just considered a menial job. He would simply stare out at the ship, smiling, tongue hanging out, almost as if he wouldn't be anywhere else.

And Evals wouldn't have had it any other way. Mike was right on the money when he called him a sea dog, and that was mostly because there was something...liberating about it. At sea, Evals wasn't required to anything he didn't want to or be anywhere except on deck or in his quarters. Sure, those niceties were somewhat diminished while he was "working" with Eric, but the essence never dried. Evals loved being at sea, plain and simple.

And as long as the dog was having a good time, Mike found it hard to not feel the same. Mike considered himself lucky, despite his wholly worrisome nature. He was lucky that he managed to be on board with someone like the Grand Templar to buy his freedom. He was lucky that the effects of that dastardly Basitin curse were not permanent. But above everything else, he was lucky that he bumped into Evals during his time in the cuffs. Being born into slavery was a background Mike would not wish upon his worst enemies, and before he was picked up by Eric and first acquainted with Evals the fox was plagued by loneliness almost perpetually. What friends he did have prior came and went at the bang of a gavel, and his life felt nothing short of broken by consequence. Evals was the Keidran who fixed that feeling, and although he had been in his fair share of scrapes with and against his best friend, it didn't alter the fact that they were still best friends.

As if it wasn't evident enough already on the deck of the Quantum, where the fox had just finished tying off a length of rope and started enthusiastically swinging his arms in time with the song he and Evals were currently belting out. Natani, sitting down against the cabin wall a few feet away, was currently holding her hands over her ears, disdainfully glancing at Mike, who looked like he was drunkenly conducting the most off-key chorus line on the high seas. At least it sounded like the current number was coming to an end.

"...when the saints come mar-ching iiiiiin!" came the final line of the shanty, followed by a hearty "URA!" as the two pumped their fists into the air and then laughed as they walked across deck to the water barrel. Mike poured some of the liquid out of one of the two nearby canteens onto his head, using a hand to wipe it around, while Evals leaned against the railing, looking out at the sea and happily panting away.

Mike innocuously glanced at Natani as the water dripped off his forehead and onto his dark grey shirt. "Still have that headache, Natani?" he inquired kindly. He and the wolf were not particularly close, but that didn't make him any less concerned for her welfare.

Natani decided not to beat around the bush on this one, but the least she could do was make an attempt at humor. "You two could stand for a couple singing lessons, I'll say that," she answered, slightly grinning and warming up to the sailors somewhat.

"Yeah, we'd be employed as entertainers if we did," Evals pointed out as Mike handed the canteen to him. "And we wouldn't have the pleasure of shipping you and Keith off to the Isles again."

"Fair enough," Natani shrugged as Evals took a quick drink of water. She almost felt her throat dry a bit watching the dog imbibe the fluid, and decided to do something about it. "Hey, Mike, think I could get a drink also?"

The fox nodded in response and picked up the second canteen. "Heads up," he called as he tossed it to the wolf, who easily caught it one-handed. Natani nodded a thank you in response as she flipped open the lid and went for a moderately long drink, and then flinched slightly as the sharp snap of a rope splitting came from the port side of the deck. She casually looked over and saw the now loose end flailing about in the wind, completely deteriorated and separated at the end.

"Ugh, beautiful," Mike sighed as he set the canteen down and began walking towards the stairs leading below deck. "I'll be back in a minute."

"Not going to tie that back off?" Natani asked, with slight curiosity.

"Not like that, no," Evals explained, turning around and gesturing at the frayed rope in a conceding manner. "We need to fuse that if we don't want it to happen again, so Mike's going to grab a knife and some matches first."

Natani stared at the rope for a second or two, then set her canteen down and approached it, unsheathing the knife fastened around her belt. "Actually, Mike, take a seat. Let me take a look at this," she said as she grabbed the rope and began cutting away the frayed section.

"What exactly are you thinking on doing?" Mike inquired, somewhat intrigued by the wolf's action.

"You'll see," Natani answered ambiguously as the knife finished slicing through the rope. Natani replaced it in the sheathe and then fished around in her pants pocket for a second before removing a small mana crystal. She brought it to the severed rope and its original anchor point and, holding the crystal between her thumb and forefinger, muttered a word of power neither the fox nor dog could decipher. They did however notice the rope beginning to mend itself, the fibers fusing back together and weaving back into its original state. The blue crystal faded into clear transparency as Mike gawked at the spectacle. He was well aware that Natani knew a good share of magic, but he assumed the majority of it was for illusion and destruction, stealth and combat. This was a new one for him, and he was amazed at the result.

"Good Gods...," was all he could say as Natani terminated the spell and flung the now depleted crystal into the sea.

The wolf plucked at the repaired, reinstalled rope a couple times to double check her work. "I think that'll hold," she remarked casually as she walked back towards the two stupefied Keidran, and leaned on the banister between them, arms crossed with satisfaction.

There was a pause afterwards, just long enough to be considered awkward, and Natani's eyes curiously shifted between the two sailors, confused as to what made that particular incantation so special. "What? Have you two never seen a mending spell before or something?" she finally asked.

Mike and Evals immediately looked at Natani in response, their expressions almost instantly changing from amazed to excited. "You have to show us how to do that!" Mike exclaimed, beaming with exuberance.

"That trick is going to save us a ton of time in the future!" Evals joined in and clapped a hand on Natani's shoulder, his tail wagging at a blurred pace.

Natani was stunned momentarily by the dramatic change of atmosphere, but managed to respond after forcibly creating some personal space by way of prying herself free of Evals' grasp. "First off, calm down. This is not the first time you've seen my spell casting."

That statement did little to deter Mike's bedazzlement. "It's the first time we saw that one! How long have you known how to do that?"

"A couple weeks, actually," Natani answered, almost ashamed by that fact. "I only stumbled upon this one..."

"That's perfectly fine!" Evals shouted out. "Spell's a spell! How do you do it?"

"It's technical, and by that I mean..."

"A lot of words?" Mike interjected.

"No, it's..."

"Eats a lot of mana?" Evals inquired.

"Shaddap!" Natani barked, but caught herself immediately after and settled down. Thankfully Mike and Evals were not taken too far back by that outburst. "It just requires a lot of studying to perform is all."

"What do you mean by that?" Mike asked, slightly confused.

"I'll show you," Natani answered as she probed her pocket again for another mana crystal. "Mike, hold out your canteen and say the word 'Aquamentis' for me."

Mike complied, grabbing the canteen and extending his arm. "Aquamentis!" he spoke authoritatively, his mood slightly dampened by the albeit expected result: nothing.

Natani then flipped him the mana crystal, and the fox caught it in his left hand. "Try it again," she commanded.

Mike repeated the word of power. "Aquamentis," he stated, almost as if he was trying to coax the water out of the canteen, again to no avail. "Still nothing," he sighed with a slight tone of defeat.

"Didn't think so. Toss me back the crystal," Natani ordered, and Mike threw the blue crystal underhandedly at the wolf. She then held it in her hand, between the middle two fingers, held it in front of her and spoke the word of power herself.

"Aquamentis!" she yelled, and the mana crystal began to shine in her hand as the water began to snake out of the neck of the canteen and amass in a globe about two meters above the ground. Evals and Mike both looked up at the sphere in a mix of curiosity and bewilderment. Under normal circumstances they probably would not have paid this spell any mind; it was just water manipulation after all. Natani had done something similar on the Na'Rella. But now that their interest was piqued regarding the spell's inner workings, there seemed to be more depth to it. It was no longer some sort of mystical power for the Templar and a select few Keidran. They could do it, and they had the tools to learn it. The prospects were astronomical.

"Have you figured it out yet?" Natani asked, still channeling the spell. She was actually enjoying this somewhat, in a teacher-student sort of way, and now she potentially had something to pass time that didn't involve sparring with Keith or just flat boredom.

Mike managed to break free from the mesmerizing globe for long enough to answer. "I think I have it," he said, slowly deciphering the reason for his failures. "You gave the materials, but I didn't know what to do with them."

"Exactly, and that's what the studying is for," Natani confirmed. "You can have all the mana in the world, but without an idea of how to channel it, it's worthless. In fact..."

Natani was about to continue elaborating until a faint pop sound was heard, the signal that the crystal had fully expended its mana reserve. It was also the signal for the water globe to cease hovering and become subject to gravity once more, dousing Evals during its decent.

"Whoops," Natani silently, offhandedly remarked. She mentally prepared herself for the inevitable rant that was sure to follow, if her past experiences with Evals were anything to go by.

Instead, though, she received a relaxed, easy exhale from the dog, followed by the words, "That's nice." Evals grinned as the water's cooling effect began to take hold; finally, a good way to cool down.

"You know I'm not the world's best mage, right?" Natani asked, still not fully gripping Evals' reaction. "I mean, you guys know Trace, and where he is, for that matter. And he probably knows fifty times more about this than I do..."

"Who cares?" Mike asked back. "Magic is part experimentation, right? We just need to know where to start!" he exclaimed as Evals nodded in agreement.

"What exactly did I do to get you two so excited about this anyways?" Natani had to ask. It wasn't like Mike and Evals didn't know she had a rudimentary spell repertoire; they've actually seen it in action a few times as well. So what was so special about it this time around?

The fox and dampened dog looked at each other for a moment, as if deciding who should answer that, and then Mike turned his attention back to the wolf. "Frankly, I think we've been interested in it for a while."

"We just didn't have the time for it what with the sailing jobs and the pub," Evals continued.

"It'd definitely make our lives easier in some respects, though," Mike elaborated. "You don't have to show us everything, Natani. But we understand if you don't want to do it."

Natani was about to argue in favor of that last point, but in reality, turning them down for just basic spellcrafting lessons seemed cold, even for her. Natani hadn't completely warmed up to their antics, and they were right in that she was far from their ideal tutor for magical studies. She never formally instructed anyone in anything before, either, so her confidence was hampered a bit. But then again, these were the Keidran that almost unconditionally offered to sail her to and from the Isles twice now, and she never really had an opportunity to say thanks for that. Maybe this was as a good a time as any.

Mike could have sworn Natani was smiling a bit as she finally replied. "Meet me below deck in a half-hour, alright? I'll show you what I know."

Chapter 5

"That's nice of you, Nat. Looks like you're making friends after all," Zen warmly said as his projection manifested in between the two shipmen. His almost abrupt entrance caught the younger of the Magi Brothers completely off guard, and Natani jumped a bit.

"Gods, Zen! Let me know when you do that next time!" she reprimanded over the soft chortle of her brother's laughter.

Mike and Evals simply looked at each other blankly, almost staring through Zen. "This again," they said simultaneously. Natani had been in a very odd habit of speaking to this imaginary entity at almost completely random times ever since the Na'Rella expedition, and this all but convinced them that she was suffering from some sort of insanity.

Natani hastily tried to correct them. "I said it before, he's a mental projection! That's the only reason you two can't see him!"

"Look, Natani, talking to yourself is completely normal at times," Evals stated, almost like a therapist. "I mean, I do it sometimes myself to..."

Natani interrupted the counseling session early and jabbed a thumb in the direction of the stairs. "B Deck, both of you. I'll be there once this is over," she sternly barked, and the fox and dog skeptically obliged, still unconvinced of the veracity of Natani's explanation.

Mike followed Evals below deck, securing the hatch above him as he descended. Natani turned her attention back to Zen following the soft sound of the lock sliding into place. "Alright, Zen. What's going on this time?" she demanded, still not having fully forgiven the sudden mental intrusion.

"I thought you'd want to know I'm looking into that hit squad you were talking about the day before."

Natani sighed and slowly shook her head. "Zen, why are you getting involved in this? This is my problem, let me and Keith deal with it."

"That's exactly why I'm getting involved. If you're in danger, you know I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure you're alright."

"I don't need any help for this," Natani assured. "Just back down and head home. You don't need to stick your neck out like this."

"I don't. But I'm not going to feel safe until you are. Remember that incident with the archmage? The soul-eating curse? I'm not putting you through that again, Nat." Zen walked up to Natani slowly and placed a hand on her shoulder, affectionately. "You're the only thing I really care about anymore, especially after the parents died. Just let me be the big brother, okay? It'll make me feel better."

Natani sighed again, still upset that Zen was getting involved in her affairs. But it was hard to press the issue anymore. Zen had a very valid point. The business of assassins had few drawbacks, but a lack of family tended to be one of them. The parents died when Natani and Zen were still pups, and that moment only served to highlight one critical fact: the two siblings needed each other. Zen was the only person Natani could ever depend on, talk to, or just reliably have around for emergencies, and in a way that served just to highlight how important Zen was to her.

The converse was just as true; Natani almost died as a result of the archmage incident. Soul-eating curses were not something that could be healed by conventional means, and had Zen not volunteered himself for the soul transfusion, Natani probably wouldn't be talking to him right now. The process was far from painless, but Zen put himself through it nevertheless. If that didn't qualify as a statement of how much Zen cared for her, then probably nothing would.

Natani looked back up at her brother after a pause. "Fine, you win," she said. "You can help out, if you can find some way to help out from over there."

Zen smiled and nodded in response. "I can't do much physically, but what I can do is supply whatever information I can find. Wolf capital's a big city, I'm sure I'll find something useful."

At that point, Zen retracted his hand and began scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "I, uh, might have also gotten someone else to help me as well."

"That's fine," Natani responded, unsure as to what Zen could be nervous about. Collaboration was just a part of the job, and it wasn't like the concept was completely foreign to Zen either. "So who is it?"

"You're not going to like the answer..."

"Come on, Zen. Who are we working with?"

"So I figured that, if I was going to do this, I'd need someone who can get information really quick without potentially alerting anyone on your scent. Or Keith's."

"Alright, and?"

"Well...who can you think of, just off the top of your head, who lives in the capital, has enough agents to know everything that's happening in it, and is inherently suspicious and paranoid of everyone around him?"

Natani knew the answer to Zen's dodgy question, but took some time to stare at him hard for a few moments. "You didn't..." she said before a wave of interference tore through the mental link. Zen looked over his shoulder and Natani held her ears for a moment, as a second figure shimmered into view, with a noise that could be best described as metal grinding against stone. The mental image was scrambled, with bits of the projection flying every which way and most color neutralized into a black and grey mess, but Natani could make out a caped Keidran standing and leaning against the water barrel on deck.

"You must be Natani, then," the image spoke, the voice distorted beyond oral recognition, low-pitched and grumbling. "I would be your brother's contact."

Natani stared at the projection, unimpressed by the attempt to conceal identity. "Oh, now that's cute," she sarcastically, flatly noted.

Zen looked at the projection in a similar manner, almost pitifully in a way. "Clovis, get rid of the damn voice mod and jamming spells, alright?" he requested as he disappointedly slipped his face into his hand. "We know who you are."

"So much for anonymity, then," the half-fox cynically remarked as his projection shimmered into a higher level of detail and his voice faded back into his more natural tone: a few octaves higher but still unnervingly sinister. "You grew your hair back out, Natani. It looks nice," he chided in a more personal but no more amicable tone.

"You hired Clovis," Natani observed, annoyed just by the fact that he was still relevant in anyone's life, let alone hers and Zen's. "Zen, why in the world would you ever..."

"Now, Nat, I know what you're thinking," Zen tried to justify his decision."And you're right, he can be a pain to work with..."

"She thinks everyone is a pain to work with."

"Can it, foxy!" Zen snapped, then turned back to Natani. "But he runs probably the biggest spy ring on the continent right now, and from what you've told me, he's probably the best shot we have at finding these guys."

"Did it have to be him, though?" Natani demanded, finding her brother's choice of contact extremely questionable. "You know what he did to us the last time we tried working with him?"

"Zen has decided to put all of that behind us for now, girl," Clovis clarified, a touch too condescendingly for Natani's tastes, or anyone else's for that matter. "After all, seeing as how you're over there and everything's happening over here, I don't think I'll need to pester you nearly as often as you think."

"Yeah, think about it like that," Zen encouraged, glad to hear that Clovis was going to be leaving Natani alone for the most part. "This is just a friendly intel hunt around the city. I don't expect Clovis will try anything, if it makes you feel better."

"The joke here is that you used the words 'Clovis' and 'expect' in the same sentence," Natani grumbled after a small exhale of disbelief. Clovis found that amusing slightly and snickered a bit.

"Now don't be like that, little brother. I know what I'm doing," Zen tried to reassure with a slight grin. "And besides, it turns out foxboy here has a little problem he needs my help with as well."

"Somebody is after my spies, as it turns out," Clovis added. "And your brother has offered to put an end to that."

"So even if he did decide to bump me off, he loses business, workers and almost all of his infrastructure," Zen finished, and Clovis grimaced more and more as Zen rattled off everything the half-fox had to lose. "So you see, Nat? It's mutually beneficial. We have no reason to backstab the other here."

Natani went quiet again, intensely glaring at Clovis. He was trusted by nobody, and that was mostly due to the reverse of that statement. Clovis left nothing to chance when it came to his operations, and that made him paranoid as a result. He never assumed that his jobs would ever go according to plan, so that meant he took strict, invasive, nearly insane precautions when it came to monitoring and contacting his assets. That included installing backdoors in almost every mental link he created between his agents, the Magi Brothers included.

Well, technically, they were more debtors back then. Once Clovis managed to dispel Natani's curse and repair the damage with part of Zen's soul, the brothers ended up working off their payment, and Clovis tried his best at almost every point to exploit them in some way. Natani abhorred the crime lord ever since then, and Zen had to have felt similarly when he first came to him. They were not friends in any way, plain and simple.

And Natani decided to emphasize that point while she still could. She approached Clovis slowly until she stood face-to-face, expressionlessly staring down the mage. "You listen to me carefully, Clovis..." she hissed.

"If this is going where I think it is, then let me assure you I have no intentions of harming your brother," Clovis calmly interrupted, showing no signs of intimidation. "He's right. I can't betray him because if I do, my business collapses and I get exposed."

"Why can't I believe you?"

"To quote your brother, he took a risk coming to me for my spies, and I took a risk trusting him to kill my hitman. If that doesn't tell you something about our relation, then I'm not sure what will." Clovis paused for a moment before continuing. "We don't have to get along for this contract, Natani, and, to be completely candid, I'd be quite surprised if we did. Though I will say that I need your cooperation if this is going to work."

Clovis extended a hand towards the younger Magi Brother, almost like a peace offering of sorts. "So, what do you say? Want to join us?"

Natani stared at Clovis' hand for a moment, thinking hard about the half-fox's words. She looked back up at him shortly after. "If anything happens to Zen..." she began.

"I will teleport you directly to my residence and you can assassinate me in person," Clovis offered, grinning slightly, almost sinisterly. "How's that for a deal?"

Another stare down ensued, and the ship went completely quiet. Natani glared at Clovis, while he simply glanced casually at the wolf. Natani continued to work through the half-fox's dealings as the silence approached an almost unbearably tense time interval.

And was then broken by a soft clap as her hand met with his.

"So you went through with it, eh?" Keith asked as he warded off an incoming strike from the quarterstaff with his own.

"Didn't have much of a choice in the matter, frankly," Natani remarked, flipping her staff over and reposting with the other end. "I'm putting Zen in danger by letting him do this, but he was right when he said Clovis is the fastest way to figure out who these guys are."

"Have I ever met your brother before?" Keith inquired as he near effortlessly struck away the wolf's follow-up.

"Wouldn't be surprised if you haven't," Natani began to answer. She slipped her hands down on the staff and took a wild, two-handed swing at the Basitin's legs. One simple jump was all that was needed to avoid the attack.

"He's essentially everything I'm not," Natani continued, expertly avoiding each of Keith's blows as he delivered them. "Outgoing, personable, not nearly as serious..."

"Unless he needs to, of course (nice parry, by the way)."

"Yeah, unless he needs to (and thanks). He's protective more than anything, though, and that's what gets him into trouble."

"You know he'd probably make the same argument about you, right?" Keith pointed out as he continued his offensive, backing Natani up and almost off of the practice mat entirely.

Natani paused slightly to check her footing, said, "Fair enough," and then gave the Basitin a light kick to the mid-section to break the combo. Keith staggered backwards a bit, and now it was time for the wolf to attack.

"But he's also overconfident, almost to the point of arrogance. And that's why I'm worried," Natani added through her chain of strikes.

"If you're anything to go by, just one assassination should be within his capabilities," Keith stated in between dodges.

"That isn't what I'm worried about," Natani said, her voice steadily accumulating focused adrenaline. The blows were becoming harder to avoid by the second.

"Alright, then. So where's the issue?" Keith inquired, becoming slightly worried at how this conversation was going now.

"I don't trust Clovis any more than I can throw that gaudy red cape of his," Natani answered, emphasizing each word with her outgoing strikes.

"Easy, Natani," Keith tried to calm the wolf as he ducked under another swing of the quarterstaff. "What happened before between you two is in the past. You need to let it go for now, and focus..."

Keith was interrupted by a sharp jolt of pain in his lower abdomen as Natani finally landed a blow on him. He doubled over, holding his staff weakly in front of him, and looked up just long enough to see the wolf strike his upper chest. Between shots, the Basitin had just enough time to see that his sparring partner seemed almost overcome entirely by rage. The attacks were no longer disciplined or planned; they were blows of pure hatred, and Natani was channeling all of it.

"I am never...forgiving..." Natani huffed. Keith started to lay down the quarterstaff and surrender the match. Or at least he was until Natani swung at him again, the staff biting into the right side of his rib cage.

"...that half..." Natani rammed the staff into Keith's stomach again.

"...bred..." Natani then flipped the staff upwards, catching Keith squarely on the chin.

"...BASTARD!" she finally yelled as she slipped her hands to the base of the staff again, and connected a hard swing onto the Basitin's left leg, completely debasing Keith and additionally shattering the wooden pole in half. Keith landed on his back and grunted audibly as the liberated section of the staff clattered onto the wooden floor and almost rolled out into the hallway.

Natani started breathing heavily, trying to regain her composure, eyes looking downward, still tightly gripping the remains of the weapon. Keith laid on his back for a few more moments, still stunned by the sudden outrage of attacks that had just bombarded him. He eventually sat himself up on his elbows and looked at the wolf, still trying to cool down.

"Where in the hell did that come from, Natani?" he demanded, but not reprimanding sort of tone. More of a friendly, concerned mood prevailed instead.

Natani finally looked up at Keith, and was immediately taken back by what had just happened. She threw the staff off to the side and instinctively ran up to Keith to help him back up. "Gods, Keith. I'm sorry about that..." she tried to apologize as she held out a hand.

Keith grabbed it and pulled himself back to his feet. "How about we hold off sparring until you've had a few minutes," he suggested as he dusted off his blue training shirt. "You really do not like Clovis that much, do you?"

"He's a horrible person, Keith, no matter how much Zen tries to convince me he's on our side."

Keith started to walk the wolf towards the warm-up bench. "Look, Nat, I don't know a lot about Clovis and what he does with his agents apart from what you've told me, but if Zen is convinced he's making the right call trusting him, you should believe you are as well."

Natani sighed and collapsed onto the bench, almost exhausted. "There is a long history between us and that half-wolf, and not a lot of it's pretty."

"What about it?" Keith said as he sat down next to his friend. "It's a completely new contract, and it sounds like the terms were hammered out without too much drama. To me, that's a good thing."

"Clovis exploits, Keith. I don't care how strict Zen was, he will find a loophole and he will make the most of it. That's just how he is."

Keith went silent for a moment to contemplate his response. "I can't tell you how to prepare for that, or tell you that he'll even do it. What I will say is that, if you're that skittish around him and his words, then listen to him."

"So you're telling me to believe him, even though everything he's done up to this point has led me to do the opposite," Natani concluded.

"But," Keith added. "Make sure he's keeping his word, whether you check it personally or Zen does it for you. The best way to work with your enemy is to hold him accountable."

Natani exhaled and looked across the room at the fractured quarterstaff from earlier. "Keith, you know I have trust issues."

Keith grinned a bit in response. "Sure, but that didn't stop you and me from being good friends."

"Hey, you're different, alright?" Natani clarified, eyeing the Basitin skeptically.

"Really now," Keith answered with disbelief.

"For one, you didn't try to work me and Zen to the bone just to get some extra gold in your pocket."

"Good point," Keith shrugged. "But then I'll say you also tried to shoot me the first time we met."

"We wouldn't be having this conversation if I didn't."

"Still tried to shoot me."

"Sod off," Natani playfully responded and gave Keith a light shove. A small pause ensued, and the wolf spoke again. "I'll...I'll keep an eye on Clovis, just play along with what he says. If Zen thinks he won't screw with us, then I don't think he will either."

Keith nodded again and stood up from the bench. "Sounds good," he stated and began walking back to the padded practice floor. "Should we get back to work? Unarmed this time?"

Natani smiled and followed. "I'm down. And, thanks, Keith."

"No problem, Nat," Keith responded over his shoulder as he took his mark on the mat. Natani did the same on the opposing side.

"Incidentally," Keith added as he put his fist towards Natani, who bumped it back to start the match. "How are Mike and Evals doing?"

"Regarding what?" Natani asked as she shuffled towards Keith, guarding her face.

"From what I heard, you're going to show them a couple magic tricks," the Basitin explained as he parried a right hook away from his chest.

"Tricks only work once, Keith. I'm showing them spells," Natani corrected. "And, they're actually doing alright."

"What are they up to?"

"Not much, but they're really, really eager about it," Natani elaborated as she threw a few more punches. "I left them a few books to look at while we're down here. And a pretty decent mana reserve too."

"You're not concerned about anything?" Keith inquired, dodging a blow to his head and countering. "I mean, they're trainees essentially. You're not afraid of rebound or whatnot?"

Natani blocked Keith's counterattack as she replied, "It's okay, they're not even casting anything that volatile yet. Nothing that'll destroy the ship at least. Besides, what's the worst they can do at their skill level?"

Chapter 6

Zen formally resided on the outskirts of the wolf capital, and it was actually developed enough to the point where visits to the inner city were more of a luxury than necessity. Whenever he did venture through the more urbanized district, though, he made a point not to frequent the inner city's pubs, or at least not without friends. Apart from the subpar spirits they tended to serve and the below average bands they tended to showcase, their clientele left a good amount to be desired. They really only served as magnets for mercenaries, thugs, blades for hire... Actually, that criticism seemed a little hypocritical now that Zen thought on it. And this particular venue, a tavern named MacMillan's, was actually where he met a few of his most loyal contractors. The place also held memories of bar fights, terrible bands and close encounters with numerous undesirables, but professionally, entering the dimly lit bar again was a breath of rancid, stale, nostalgic air.

He wasn't technically alone, either. Zen pressed two fingers to side of his head, just beneath his vibrant, short brown hair. "Alright, foxboy. Who exactly am I looking for?" he spoke out loud. Over the clamor of loud conversation, clanking tankards and pounding drums, his transmission wouldn't draw any unwanted attention.

"Again with the name calling, Zen?" Clovis' voice echoed back in Zen's head. The mage had created a small addition to the mental link that allowed communication without manifestation. Shortly, it allowed the two to talk to each other without a visual appearance to accompany it. Apparently, it was less prone to detection spells, but Zen didn't really believe that was true. On the lighter side, at least Clovis wouldn't provide any undue distractions, intentional or otherwise.

"I mean, we are adults here after all," Clovis continued. "Let's treat each other as such."

"You fix things with Natani and we'll talk," Zen responded sternly. "Back to my contact."

"He'll find you, my friend. Don't you worry," came the reply, and even though Clovis tried to come off as calming, Zen felt everything but, like he was being herded in a way. "In the meantime, put your hood up, find a table and order yourself a beer. You'll know him when you see him."

Zen sighed at how indirect this plan was and reluctantly drew the black hood of his shirt over his head. "I hope you know what you're doing, Clovis," he half-whispered as he moved towards a circular table in the corner of the room, by the establishment's front entrance.

"Patience, Zen," Clovis spoke back in an almost patronizing tone, one that Zen did not care for much. "There is something waiting in the end for you."

Zen sat down and removed his hand from his head to cut the transmission. "What a prick," he grumbled to himself as he signaled for the bartender. Just because Clovis was on surveillance did not give him the right to treat him like a kid, but that was almost exactly what he was doing. Zen eventually came to realize that this was just a personality trait, and there wasn't much he could do about it, but that didn't make it any less irritating.

It had been a few days since he told Natani that Clovis was helping him find whoever was out for her. Zen wouldn't say that his relations with the spymaster had improved on a personal level, but at least he's been tolerable up until now. Clovis still harbored a few traits Zen could do without: the obsessive surveillance, the cryptic messages and meeting times, the almost always condescending way he spoke. Under any different circumstances Clovis would have still been just a small smear in his life, a black mark that he didn't care for but couldn't erase. Desperation called for drastic measures, however, and Zen really could not think of anyone better suited for the job. So Clovis' unlikable personality was just something he would have to work around.

On the brighter side, at least the cross-bred crime lord wasn't nearly as bland as some of Zen's previous contractors. Given the choice between an employer that honestly didn't care for Zen's well-being and remained aloof regarding the job, and one that habitually pestered him ensuring that everything was happening according to plan, then Zen would take the latter in a heartbeat. The assassin was actually glad that was the case this time around; Clovis took great care of his investments, ensuring that any ventures they decided to undertake didn't cost more than they produced. And it wasn't like his enigmatic persona was completely bad. If anything, Zen enjoyed the tension it produced, the mystery, the intrigue.

The more Zen tried to think on Clovis, the more he thought about Natani instead, and what she, no, he, would be doing if the roles were reversed. Would he have had the idea to see Clovis regarding this issue? Probably not; Natani was arguably the only person in the world who loathed Clovis more than Zen did. Even if there was a confrontation, it would not have ended on the best of terms. One if not both of them would be dead in all likelihood. Natani was never really good at making friends, Zen observed. Well, apart from Keith, but Zen practically knew something deeper was involved there, and as fun as it was to harass Natani about it, Zen did so sparingly with that in mind.

The barkeep, a vixen from the Coastal Fox tribe at roughly Zen's age, returned with Zen's beverage a few minutes later, and set it in front of the wolf on top of a paper coaster. Zen flipped her a 10-silver piece in thanks and went for a quick swig of the ale. And then he noticed something on the circular coaster as he lifted the clear glass mug: it was pristine, nearly flawless cursive, done boldly in red ink. Zen slid the coaster closer to him with his free hand and tried to make out the writing between drinks.

Polar fox. Bandana. Left patch.

Zen wasn't nearly as intrigued by the information on the paper as much as he was by the thought of the currently overworked barkeep somehow being in on this little recon op, but he ignored it for now. The vixen walked by Zen's table again, nodding courteously and smiling gently as she served the table across the room. Zen responded with a small tug of his hood, and flipped the coaster over before resting the mug on it.

Well, he did say I'd know him when I saw him, he said to himself, leaning back in the chair and getting comfortable. It looked like he was going to have to wait. A throng of potential customers flooded through the doors as he did so, and for a second Zen nearly forgot that he still had to identify his contact. The only issue was that this particular pool of customers was flying past his table at an alarmingly quick pace. Zen had to maneuver himself in his chair in order to get good looks at some of the patrons near the back. Zen started to become increasingly worried at the prospect of this job ending before it really began as the crowd began to filter through the pub.

Another patron passed through the doors at the same time as well. It was not Zen's contact, if the coaster's profile was anything to go by, but he still caught the wolf's attention regardless. It was a Forest Wolf, much like Zen, except this one seemed to be much higher up in society, judging from his formal dress and appearance. Zen eyed the newcomer suspiciously through another swig of ale as the wolf took a seat directly at the bar. MacMillan's was in no sense of the word a noble man's tavern, and this one seemed very out of place as a direct result. His presence upset Zen's instincts, almost as if something bad was about to happen.

That feeling of paranoia was quickly done away with as another customer entered the tavern: a Keidran from the Polar Fox tribe, judging from the white fur and black "socks and gloves" pattern the foxes in general tended to exhibit. He was tall by fox standards, probably at least two or three inches higher than Zen. His outfit consisted of a cobalt blue hooded shirt, deep grey trousers, and a solid black bandana concealing his face from the nose down. Zen craned his neck and also noticed an eye patch covering his left eye and the vicinity, so that only the upper right quadrant of the fox's visage remained untouched, a single, sharp, icy blue eye its predominant feature.

A perfect match according to the coaster, Zen was about to stand up and signal for the agent to approach. At least until the fox identified Zen first and already began his approach to the table.

"Wouldn't happen to know a wolf by the name of Sean around here, would you?" he coolly requested. His tone was unusual; he somehow managed to blend a casual, amiable personality into an otherwise straightforward, businesslike mood. Zen liked it in a way.

"It's Zen," he corrected, and invited the fox to sit down. "And you wouldn't happen to be Clovis' contact, would you?"

"Friends call me Blitz," the agent introduced himself as he reclined in the chair opposite Zen and raised his hand for service. "And don't say that kind of crap out loud, mate. That's how covers are blown."

"Do I get to call you that?"

"Meh, why not?" Blitz shrugged as the bartender approached with a glass of ale and set it in front of him. "You seem like a nice enough guy. And, thank you, sweetheart." The vixen smiled again at Zen before scampering away behind the bar, back to the wolf who had entered earlier.

"You must come here rather frequently," Zen noted.

"How do you figure?" Blitz asked as he pulled the bandana down for a quick drink, immediately pulling it back up after. It seemed almost instinctual, like not having it on would invoke some adverse reaction. Zen didn't really care for mysteriousness when it came to people; it tended to correlate with unpredictability more often than not. This seemed like a force of habit more so than anything else however, and for all Zen knew maybe it was just the fox's taste. So Zen decided not to read much further into it. Blitz seemed like a friendly enough guy anyways.

"She dropped off your drink almost right away. Didn't order or anything," the wolf elaborated.

Blitz shrugged again. "Yeah, I'd count myself as a regular."

"You must be good friends with the bartender then."

"Who, Kayle? We're close."

"She told me how to find you, after all," Zen stated as he picked up his glass and showed the marked coaster to his contact.

Blitz chuckled, almost warmly. "Yeah, she's a good girl."

"Is she...uh.."

Blitz removed his bandana again and was about to go for another drink, but stopped about halfway through. "Is she, what?" he suspiciously inquired.

Zen paused for a second before finishing his thought. "Is she currently seeing anyone?"

"As in relationship?"

"Just curious."

Blitz snickered again. "I think you're jumping the gun a bit," he responded with a quick swig of ale.

"Jumping the gun?" Zen repeated.

"She's my niece, mate," Blitz clarified, replacing the bandana.

Zen wasn't sure what to think about that. "I-I'm sorry, then. I wasn't..."

"Ease off there, Zen. You didn't know," Blitz assuaged, looking over his shoulder at Kayle, drying off a beer glass. "Her old man's my brother, and he met her mom on a business trip. Fifty-fifty between her looking Polar or Coastal. That's why there isn't too much resemblance."

"Does she know where your loyalties lie?"

"Yeah, but she doesn't mind it," the fox answered, as he watched his niece amiably wave at the duo. Blitz returned the gesture and turned back to Zen. "She just wants to be useful, and volunteering her bar to sponsor our meeting is her way of doing that."

"So, maybe once all of this is done, you think...?"

"I'll run your name by her," Blitz responded, leaning forward on the table. "But first, I think we have some more pressing issues, don't we?"

"Right," Zen affirmed, ready to get to business. "So, what do we have on the assassinations?"

"I was hoping you'd tell me," Blitz answered back, not necessarily in a sarcastic way but a rather uncouth one comparatively.

"You confused me," Zen answered, unsure of how else he could respond to that remark.

Blitz leaned back in his chair and nodded over his left shoulder. "How long has the suit been here for?" he asked as he casually reached into his pocket. Zen turned his head to the right at the wolf at the bar, studying him for a moment.

"Came in right before you did. Something I should know about him?"

"Look at his hand when it's convenient," Blitz instructed as he opened up a butterfly knife and started casually flipping it around in his hand. Zen continued to fixate on the noble, who was currently resting his arms on the bar and chatting with Kayle. Zen was not sure what he was looking for, or why Blitz seemed to know more than he was letting on. Blitz seemed a little too relaxed for this type of job; it was almost like he wasn't taking it seriously at times, and the faint clicking sound the knife made as it opened, closed and reopened wasn't helping his case much. It was another unsettling thing about his contact, and it felt very strange. Blitz was not an unlikable Keidran, and out of all the contacts Clovis could have sent Zen's way, it was hard to be upset with who he got. But his mannerisms and habits just made Zen uneasy around the fox. They honestly shouldn't have; they seemed innocent enough to the point of irrelevance. That didn't make them any less...bizarre though.

The noble then relaxed in his chair a bit more and hung his right arm over the back. There was a small flash of red light as something reflected it off his hand, and upon further inspection, Zen could make out a ring on the wolf's third finger. He didn't find anything remarkable about it at first: silver material, a large ruby set in the center, rather standard as far as most jewelry was concerned. There was, however, a small engraving off to the side of the center jewel. Zen could not make out the exact design from where he was sitting, unfortunately, but this was almost certainly what Blitz was hinting at earlier.

"Nice ring," Zen acknowledged, then turned his attention back to the fox and the clicking blade. "And if I didn't know any better, I'd say he's pretty high up in whatever he's involved in."

"That's the Black Water family sigil, to be more precise," Blitz clarified, expertly tossing the knife back open again and snapping it shut.

"The good family or the bad?"

"Which one do you think?"

"It's a crime family isn't it?"

"Thought that'd be obvious."

"You never know."

"Think of a good reason someone like him would be in here if he wasn't."

"...bored of the high life?"

"Nice try."

"Any reason we care about this joker?"

"Black Waters pride themselves in knowledge. Whatever blanks Clovis and friends can't fill in, these guys can. So we're keeping an eye on him."

"Well, yeah. You are."

"Ha, ha."

"How do you know all this, Blitz?"

"Experience, that's really about it."

"What the hell?"

"Hey, you're an assassin, too, mate. That shouldn't be a surprising answer."

"No, the suit's reaching for something," Zen explained, craning his neck again as the suspected don rifled around in his pants pocket.

"He's in my blind spot," Blitz said, flipping the blade back open but not bothering to close it this time. "What's he up to?" he asked as he inspected the knife.

"Looks like an envelope," Zen detailed as he observed the wolf extract the white parchment. He then slapped it onto the bar and paused for a few moments before subtly sliding it over to his left, to a felid Keidran: black-furred, deep green shirt, left ear cut short. He nodded his approval before standing up from his seat and fast-walking out of the tavern. The noble himself waited for a couple seconds after his contact's departure before tipping Kayle, a tad skimpily by Zen's standards, and moving towards the back of the pub.

"He just passed it off to the cat next to him, and it looks like they're both leaving now," Zen narrated, eyes following the don's hire. Fortunately he seemed to slow down when he entered the main street, and Zen could maintain eye contact as he proceeded down it.

Blitz stood up and slapped the knife shut, concealing the blade underneath the sleeve of his shirt. "I'll take Black Water if you want to tail his friend," he offered as Zen rose from the table as well.

"He made a move towards the back of the pub. Guessing there's a staff room or something he's trying to use as an escape."

"I'll see if I can't catch him on his way out," Blitz calmly stated, and then his eyebrow jumped a bit as he remembered something. "Which reminds me, catch." The fox flipped a purple crystal at the assassin, who caught it effortlessly and examined it quickly before slipping it into his pocket.

"We don't have that mental link thing you and Clovis have, so that's the next best. Think of that crystal like an external, physical one. Just keep it on your person."

"Props for thinking ahead," Zen nodded in respect, pocketing the crystal.

"I aim to please," Blitz smirked underneath the bandana, but only momentarily. "Now get out of here. That thing will keep you updated," he commanded as he briskly turned towards the pub's far end. Zen exited the building in turn, entering the crowded street and reestablishing contact with his quarry.

The noble entered the tavern's back room, as inconspicuously as he could manage, and shut the door behind him quietly. Blitz picked up his pace slightly to compensate. He approached the shut door, pressed his back to the frame and with one hand lifted the handle and pushed it open. Tactically, stealthily entering the room, he found his target navigating the minefield of ale casks. Blitz slid his trademark knife out of his shirt sleeve back into his hand and professionally flipped the blade back open, shutting the door with the back of his foot. The noble may have been trying to keep the noise down, but with the additional soundproofing the door offered, Blitz didn't quite see the need to.

Which meant that he also saw no problems with doubling his target's foot speed, grabbing him from behind and pinning his back to the stone wall. He was now pressing on the noble's chest with his left forearm while his right hand held his signature butterfly knife close to his neck.

"Three rules: don't yell, don't struggle, and cooperate. Do all that and you won't get hurt. Sound good?" Blitz swiftly rattled off his conditions to the noble. He'd done this sort of work before and found this opening particularly effective when it came to interrogations.

"Who the hell are you?" the noble choked out, eyes fixated on the blade coming a tad too close to his jugular.

"Yeah, I thought that would be a good starting question too," Blitz nodded contemplatively. "Why don't you kick us off?"

"Listen, fox," the wolf stammered as he heavily breathed in. "I don't know who you work for, but I can make it worth..."

"I have money to spare. Thanks though," Blitz politely interrupted. "This isn't about me though. Let's talk about your friend at the bar, eh? What's his story?"

"What friend?" the wolf spat back, trying to avoid the question. Maybe if he played dumb, he could avoid divulging too much information.

Blitz picked up on it as well, and pressed the blade against the target's neck, taking care not to cut into it. Yet. The wolf inhaled sharply and cringed as he felt the cold, cured steel against one of his major vessels.

"Rule number three, mate. Remember that," Blitz fatherly reminded the noble. He eased up the knife's pressure, and the wolf's stress levels in turn. "A friend of mine is tracking him down as we speak, but you probably told him not to say anything about whatever errand you sent him on, right?"

Blitz could have sworn his prey was on the verge of crying. In his defense, he was young by the fox's standards. In all likelihood this was probably the first time he had been interrogated in this fashion. Blitz didn't feel too sorry for him, however. The inaugural hose down of information had to happen at some point. Blitz was just seeing that it happened sooner than later.

"He swore to secrecy, aye," the wolf answered, now terrified of the agent.

Blitz was making progress, and he knew it. "So he's not going to tell my guy anything once he nabs him. Sad," he commented, and pulled his bandana down off his face to achieve the full effect of his next statement. He had rehearsed this many times before, and it always achieved the same effect.

"But you, you're here with me," he maliciously, deviously, smugly grinned. "You can tell me whatever I feel like, won't you?"

The wolf finally snapped. "Oh, Gods. Why's it got to be me, man? I don't want to do this!" he bawled out, arms scraping against the wall in desperation. Blitz heightened the pressure against the wolf's ribcage in response.

"You wanna get out of here, my friend, you keep your voice down and you tell me what I want to hear," Blitz commanded, his tone completely shifted from what it was previously. He was now in full control, and any traces of his previously calm and distant personality dissolved into a gleeful, sadistic monstrosity the wolf now feared more than anything else. Exactly as planned.

"He's a killer, alright?" the wolf whispered as a tear of unadulterated dread rolled out of his eye. "I got that note from the alpha. I'm a just a runner, man! Don't do this!" his voice tampered off through the beginning of a small sob fit.

"Keep it coming, buddy," Blitz coerced, again pressing his knife to the throat of his prey. "You don't hire contract killers because you feel like it. Where's he going?"

"He's a countermeasure, alright?" the wolf continued to spew stuttered information, his eyes again glued to the precariously sharp blade, threatening to eviscerate his throat.

"Countermeasure, now that's a word I haven't heard in a while."

"We hired him to take out some spies. They've been collecting info. Alpha doesn't want them taking it. Oh, Gods..."

"Get a hold of yourself," Blitz snapped, pressing even harder on both the wolf's sternum and jugular. The wolf howled in pain as Blitz continued to push his advantage. "What was in that letter? Who's the target?"

The noble didn't respond immediately. Instead he took a few moments to hyperventilate, teeth grinding, eyes darting all over the back room, almost as if he was trying to find a nonexistent escape route.

Blitz did not like where his expression was going, and resorted to the tactic he truthfully did not want to go to. He removed the knife from the noble's neck, instead nicking him across the right cheek, a cut of about two inches. The wolf yelped in pain and surprise as the fox now pointed the blade directly underneath his chin.

"Who's the target?" he demanded loudly. At this point he didn't really care about the noise level; this information was easily worth dodging any guards or security sent his way as a consequence.

"Hell if I know the organization!" the wolf yelled back in tears. "They, they-they just work for some stiff named Clovis! That's all I know man, I swear to Gods! Don't kill me!"

Blitz smiled crookedly once the wolf was finished with his outburst, quite satisfied at the result. He pulled the blade back, flicked it closed and backed up from the traumatized wolf. The wolf collapsed onto the floor, deeply breathing, trying to regain composure to little avail.

"Hot damn," Blitz quietly stated as he turned away from the noble, walking slowly towards the back room's window. "I mean, I knew you Black Waters were smart but...this, this is nothing short of marvelous."

He casually strolled over to one of the shelving units in the back room and picked up two clear, brown bottles of ale. "Drinks are on me, mate," he scoffed as he tossed one to the still distressed noble, the bottle landing in the stomach area as opposed to the hands. "The boss'll have to double my salary after this one," the fox remarked as he twisted off the cork and chucked it over his shoulder.

The wolf's face went white when he understood the full meaning of what Blitz had said. "You...you don't work for that..that guy do you?" he ventured timidly.

"Excellent deduction," Blitz answered unimpressed, and took a quick shot out of his bottle.

The noble went quiet, and then started to panic. His breathing became shallow and rapid again. "You're...you're not gonna get away with this info. I..I won't let you."

Blitz interrupted the swig he was about to take and looked at his target quizzically. "Now what makes you think that?"

"I'll put the word out," the noble spat. "I know your face, I know who you work for, I can get you into a heap of trouble in a real short time," the noble smirked, now thinking he had the upper hand. "You screwed up now, man," he scoffed.

"I see," Blitz commented, and set his drink down to approach the noble again. "Well then, if that's the case, I may as well give you something else to share with your friends," and he motioned to the multiple cloths covering his left eye. "Want to know where my eye went?" he politely asked.

"Not necessarily," the wolf responded.

"Nah, you'll like it. It's a cool story," Blitz insisted, and then squatted down to eye level with the noble. His tone had warmed back up since the interrogation, but it didn't make the atmosphere any less tense. "So, here's how it goes:"

I'm at a heist, right? Giant museum expo, of all things. We slip in through the ceiling after lights out, guards completely unaware to what's happening. Man, we got a gorgeous take off it. Ancient scrolls, jewelry, the whole shebang. It was an awesome job. Everybody left happy.

I, seeing as how I was the lead for this little job, got a bonus to go with my share. It was this really, really bright emerald. Big one too, right about the size of your hand. It was beautiful. And, as it turned out, it had a bit of a history behind it. Apparently, once upon a time, magic of the mind needed a focus, something to channel it through. And what I just picked up was one of those focuses, from way back when. Kind of like an antique.

That gem was my good luck charm from then on out, mate. I always had it on me. Took it everywhere, even on jobs. And then one day, I'm on a different assignment, and let's just say things went south with the security for that one. We got made real quick, and the guards wanted to try out their new toys real bad.

I took a crossbow bolt right to the side my left eye here, and it hurt, man. It stung. I think that's the worst pain I've felt so far in my life, come to think of it. I pass out from the pain, and wake back up in the infirmary. Healer tells me the bolt punctured my optic nerve, and my eye was as good as dead. She just went ahead and pulled it out.

But then she tells me something else. And this is the really cool part. Apparently she found my lucky emerald in my rucksack and noticed what it was almost straight away. You see, she was a magic student, and she happened to know a thing or two about these sorts of...apparatuses I suppose. She tells me that they don't run on mana like almost everything else does, but rather they can be powered simply by thought.

Think about that for a second, mate. Powered by thought. That's amazing, right? I mean, how many things can you run just by thinking about them running? Not a lot, huh? It's mind magic, so it makes sense a bit, but still. Pretty awesome. So she decided to go ahead and took the liberty of taking that little emerald, and placing right where it could get all the thought it could ask for...

"Right up here," Blitz finished, tapping the side of his head, crookedly smiling yet again. "And you know? Wouldn't have it any other way."

"Yeah, yeah, nice story," the wolf brushed aside. He didn't care for the topic nearly as much as he thought he did at first, and he was shocked that he didn't interrupt Blitz earlier. "So what? You have a gem for an eye now. Just trying to feed me information?"

"Well, not quite," Blitz confessed as he moved a hand towards the cloths in front of his eye. "You know how I said earlier that you can go when you told me what I want to hear?"

"Yeah...?" the wolf answered uncomfortably.

"What I forgot to mention was that you're also going to tell the authorities what I want them to hear," Blitz added as he pulled the patches back and revealed the brilliant green gem lodged in a scarred, vacated eye socket. The gem flashed brightly for a moment, filling the room with light, then went back to its original state.

Blitz put the cloths back over the gem and then studied the noble quickly. The wolf's attention was now focused squarely on Blitz, nothing else. He sat against the wall, unblinking, fully alert, listening carefully to whatever the fox had to say next.

"So, here's what's going to happen," Blitz instructed as he pulled his bandana back over his mouth and nose. "You're not going to remember telling me anything. You're not going to remember me or who I work for or even what was in that envelope, nor will you say anything to the authorities or your higher-ups about what happened here. As far as you know..." the fox stopped himself to pick up the bottle resting in the wolf's lap and slipped it into his hand.

"Hold that for me, would you?" he kindly requested, and the wolf instantly complied, still paying close attention to the words Blitz spoke. "As far as you know when you wake up after this, you're just going to remember one wild party. You had a good time, made some friends, met these two beautiful tigresses. It was a full night for you, mate."

"Full night..." the noble muttered to himself deliriously.

"That's right, my friend. A full night, but a really fun one, and now you need to rest up for a bit. Get some energy for tomorrow, alright?"

"Really tired..."

"Yeah, I thought so. Good night, mate," the fox finished, and with a snap of his fingers, the wolf's eyes fell shut as his head rolled to the side, against the wall, fast asleep. Blitz stood back up and began to work at the window, trying to get it open.

"Zen, you can stop pretending not to listen now," he spoke out loud.

"So that's what the eye patches are for, huh?" came Zen's tired response, sounding like he was out of breath.

"If you could do me a favor and not say anything about it," Blitz continued as he forced the window to slide up, venting the spirits' aromas in favor of cleaner air. "It's...kind of a trade secret."

"Didn't hear a thing," Zen commented. There was a small pause as, in the background, Blitz could pick up on someone getting their wind knocked out, likely the Keidran with the envelope.

"Sounds like you made a friend," the fox noted as he climbed out through the frame and into the pub's back alley.

"Thought I'd take him to Clovis' house, swap stories for a bit. Care to join us?"

"He's sworn to secrecy, from what our mobbie told us. He's going to take a while to crack."

Zen scoffed in response. "You say that like that's stopped you before."

"It hasn't. Meet you there." And at that Blitz indifferently removed the communication crystal from his pocket and dropped it onto the cobblestone walkway, shattering it into a countless number of fragments. The fox cared little and instead proceeded into the main street, hood raised, as if nothing had ever happened.

Exactly how it should be.

Chapter 7

"Mike! Come on, Mike. Open the door up. I just want to talk."

"You can talk to me once you find a way to undo what you just did."

"I don't know what I did, that's the problem!"

Evals jumped a bit as the door to Mike's bedroom swiftly, abruptly swung open, a very livid vixen on the other side. In no way whatsoever did she seem to exhibit any emotion apart from frustration, rage or general annoyance. Her pants had slid down about two inches from their original position for the lack of a belt, but Evals' attention was more focused on the chest area for two very good reasons.

"I think you know what you did!" Michelle sternly yelled at the dog, but then realized the message had not gone through completely. "Up here," she directed with a hand gesture. Evals' eyes followed to a very disappointed, resigned expression from his friend.

Evals was not sure how to comment on what events actually led to this conversation, so he settled on a toothy, sheepish smile, a shrug and "At least I did a good job, right?"

Michelle was not going to have any of it. "Get in here," she commanded as she dragged Evals through the open door by his shirt collar and slammed the door shut behind him. "You're the moron who got me into this mess," she started to explain as she began to remove her shirt. "So now you get to help me..."

She paused and skeptically stared down the dog for a few moments. Evals' tail was mischievously wagging, and Michelle was less than fond of his facial expression as well.

"I get to help you do what, Michelle?" he enthusiastically asked, hoping this would go where he thought it was.

"Don't call me that," the vixen ordered, and she sharply rotated her body away from the dog before fully disrobing the shirt. "And you're going to help me cover this up. Bandages, now," she directed, pointing towards the dresser against the cabin's wall.

Evals whimpered a bit in disappointment as he ventured over to his friend's dresser and picked up the cloth strips from the top of it. Presumably, Mike had rifled through a first aid kit and extracted them after the incident. Evals approached Michelle from behind and began to wrap the bandages around her chest.

The room was quiet for a few seconds, almost awkwardly so, until Evals cleared his throat and decided to fix that. "Look, Mike, you know that..."

"It wasn't intentional, I know," Michelle finished, cringing slightly as the pressure on her chest increased. "It was experimentation, and you were just reading something out of the book." She looked over her shoulder as Evals continued to work. "What was that spell, out of curiosity?"

"Manifest...something or other, I'll look it back up. It was supposed to produce one physically attainable object matching the user's preferences."

Michelle's face contorted with a strange mix of realization and rage. "And this was your preference?" she exclaimed.

Evals paused tying the bandages to hastily explain himself. "Mike, I swear, it was just a passing thought! Wasn't even a serious one either!"

Michelle raised an eyebrow. "Really now. Then what were you thinking about?"

"This is going to sound dumb, but I had my mind set on steak."

Michelle blinked. "Steak?" she repeated incredulously.

"I'm being dead serious. I was reading about the spell, my stomach growled, and my mind got caught on steak. So I tried to do it."

Michelle slipped her face into her hand and sighed. "Wow, what a dog."

"Don't look at me like that, Mike!" Evals retorted as he resumed gently wrapping the bandages. "I haven't had a steak in, like, three months, and it sounded really good then. So yeah, I wanted a steak! And then, while I was channeling, I asked myself, as a joke, if I could get Michelle back with the spell, and apparently it read it!" Evals then inspected the vixen, looking down and then back up at her. She seemed to have calmed down, now having heard the dog's story.

"I'll say it again though: you have to admit, you look pretty good as a girl."

Michelle decided to give her new form a look over in response: the extended chest, the slimmed silhouette...

"I...I kinda do, don't I?" she quietly admitted, and Evals noticed the vixen blushing slightly as she spoke. A different mood filled the air of the room with that sentence, and Evals wasn't quite sure whether he liked it or not. It was a weird blend between friendship and romanticism, but Evals felt that had to be either one or the other. Somewhere behind the feminine veil that was Michelle was his best friend, and that stipulation was probably the only reason Evals was not actively trying to do something more with the vixen. But then again, this was Michelle, and Evals had a particularly hard time resisting her.

His thoughts were interrupted by a small flumph sound, and Evals' eyes ventured back to the floor in curiosity. It was at that point he noticed that the entirety of Michelle's pants were lying around her ankles. He snickered into his hand for a few seconds before the vixen decided to look down. At that point, she let out a "Yipe!" of surprise and quickly knelt down to yank the pants back up to waist height. Somehow her face went even more red, and she glanced at the dog, first embarrassed, then more sternly when she saw the infamous tail wag.

"What are you looking at?" she barked.

"You know," Evals remarked, grinning with satisfaction. "In my defense, at least I didn't put a heart on your butt like the last time this happened."

"Well, then, thank you for being considerate," Michelle sarcastically returned. "Back to the bandages."

"Yes, ma'am," Evals woofed back, before pointing at his work in progress and saying, "You'll need to move your arms first, though. I can't reach around otherwise."

"Ah, sorry," Michelle complied, releasing her grip on the pants and extending her arms to the sides...

Prompting Evals to instead yank them down again to gain another look at the vixen's fully exposed back half.

"Dammit, Evals!" the vixen yelled as she hoisted the pants back up again, glaring at the dog currently howling with laughter. "This is serious! You know I hated this last time!"

Evals managed to suppress himself long enough to choke out, "I'm sorry, Mike! But since I don't know how long Michelle's staying over, I'm going to make the most of her while I can!"

"Why do you keep objectifying me like this?" Michelle gloomed, too overwhelmed by the dog's insatiable lust to be upset at him.

"I can always make this more personal, if you like..." Evals suggested, wearing the sketchiest grin he could manage.

"Screw you, Evals!" Michelle screamed.

"That's not nice. Just trying help."

"Yeah, help yourself! You son of a..." was as far as the frustrated vixen got before the bedroom door was knocked upon by the Basitin passenger.

"Mike? You in there?" Keith politely asked from outside. "Island's in view, want to talk about arrival procedures."

Michelle started to panic when she heard that request. "Of course he does, and he picked an amazing time. I can't go out like..." She was interrupted again as the unfinished bandaging decided to stop adhering to the fox's midsection and began to fall to the floor. Michelle screamed in shock a second time and grabbed whatever she could, hugging it tight against her chest.

"Evals! Do something!" she panicked.

"Do I have to?" Evals reluctantly answered. "This is pretty amusing by itself."

"Please!" the vixen practically begged.

Evals good-naturedly chuckled and finally decided to yield. "Lie down next to the bed for a bit. I'll talk to Keith," the dog suggested, and Michelle wasted no time taking it. Lying prone on her back on the far side of the bed, she would be well hidden from Keith as long as he didn't enter the room itself.

Michelle practically dove behind the bed as Evals opened the door and greeted the Basitin warmly. "Heya, Keithy! Sorry about the wait!" he ecstatically welcomed from the doorway. A bit too much so, as Keith's blank, borderline confused expression indicated.

"Keithy?" he repeated.

The dog needed a couple seconds to realize exactly how corny his last sentence was. "Wow, did I really just call you that?" he sheepishly asked.

"Want to pretend you didn't?" Keith offered.

"Let's," Evals nodded.

"What exactly is going on in there?" the Basitin inquired, trying to peek over Evals' shoulder into the bedroom.

Evals heard a small "meep" of fright escape his friend's mouth, and hastily positioned his body back in front of Keith's line of sight. "Nothing of note, boss. Mike and I were just moving some furniture around. I mean, we're on the boat for at least another two weeks after this, right? Might as well make ourselves at home."

Michelle held her breath as she waited for the Basitin to answer. After what seemed like an hour but couldn't have been more than two seconds, Keith indifferently shrugged and said, "Fair enough." Michelle inaudibly exhaled in relief. "Well, as soon as you two are done in here, then, can you meet me up top? Basitins tend to have strict customs, and I want to get through with as little drama as possible."

"We'll be right up!" Evals affirmed with a nod.

"Good then. I'll let you get back to your..." Keith struggled to find the right word for a moment. "...furnishing rearrangements?"

"Won't take long," Evals assured as he reclosed the door. Keith then began to walk down the corridor to the designated meeting area.

Or he was, until his ear twitched, receiving noise from behind Mike's door. More specifically, Evals was speaking again, presumably to his fox friend. The dialogue was a little unusual, however, even for their standards. It started with "So, now that we're alone in here...," followed up immediately by a slap sound and a moderately sharp yelp of pain.

The Basitin looked back over his shoulder in curiosity, trying to decipher that conversation, but shook his head and forced his legs to progress down the hallway. "You don't want to know," he spoke to himself as he climbed the stairs to A Deck.

"Clovis, what are we doing in your wine cellar?"

"A couple of things, my friend," the half-fox informed as he started to draw power out of a mana crystal in his left hand and manifest it into a small fireball in his right. Zen was referred to by Clovis as his "friend" rather frequently, even though he knew quite well that Clovis never made friends. Alliances, definitely, but never friends. Maybe he did it as a nicety, to add a little bit of familiarity in his relationships where there was none. Clovis did try to exhibit class and formality wherever he could, at least when he was not under duress. That did not make his form of address any less ironic however.

Clovis held the fireball to a torch hung on the staircase wall, and after a couple seconds the torch caught fire and began to more thoroughly illuminate the cellar. This also seemed to spark a chain reaction, whereby the other torches scattered around the basement jumped aflame, one by one in quick succession. Zen was mildly impressed for a moment, and watched the torches come to life as Clovis continued to escort him down the stairwell and into the wine cache.

Zen was well aware of the half-fox's opulent financial status, but even then he was taken aback by the cellar's enormous size. Laid out in nice, even arrangements was aisle upon aisle of fine wine, all neatly arranged and sorted by year, flavor, vineyard, and a few other miscellaneous criteria only Clovis seemed to understand. The cellar even had a few oil paintings hung on the walls in between the torches: a few landscapes, but the majority of them portraits, probably Clovis' family if Zen had to guess. His hypothesis was heavily supported by the obnoxiously large portrait of Clovis himself stationed on the far wall, flanked by a slightly downsized male wolf Keidran on the right and a female fox on the left. So in a sense the cellar did serve as a shrine to his own ego, but aesthetically...

"Not bad," Zen commented, but then a thought crossed his mind and he leered at his employer. "Wait a second. The money Natani and I were lifting for you...?"

"It didn't go towards this," Clovis preemptively reassured. "Not all of it, at least."

"Not all of it?" Zen repeated skeptically, slightly irked at the ambiguous answer.

"You'll see in a moment," Clovis teased as he strode down one of the aisles, running his hand across the bottles' corks delicately. "In the meantime, we made progress on our mystery killer, and that calls for a celebration." Clovis stopped momentarily and pointed at a small wooden table near the beginning of the rack. "There are a couple glasses over there, if you wouldn't mind fetching them."

Zen reluctantly obeyed and about faced to retrieve the stemmed glasses. "Who else is coming down here?" he asked. It was probably a safe guess that even though he picked up two glasses, the other one was not for him.

"Nobody, Zen. It's just you and me for now," the half-fox answered as he halted about two-thirds through the aisle and knelt down.

"So what are the glasses for?" Zen inquired as he caught up with Clovis.

"What do you think they're for?" was the response as Clovis as he uncorked one of the bottles. "You were a key player for my little spy ring today, so I'd like to invite you to share a drink with me," he elaborated, sniffing the bottle analytically.

"What do you think, a bit too bold for today?" he asked, tilting the bottle towards Zen.

"You want me to have a drink with you," Zen restated, trying to make sure Clovis didn't mix up his words somehow.

"I believe that's what I said, yes," Clovis affirmed as he recorked the bottle and slid it back into its proper place.

"Clovis, have you gone soft on me?" Zen had to ask. "I swear, this is the first friendly thing you've done in the entire time I've known you."

"Don't misinterpret this, Zen," the half-fox clarified as he shuffled down the aisle, scanning for a different selection. "There's nothing friendly about this. I do this solely out of respect for my assets. You have proven yourself to be very useful to my business, and I think that deserves a reward. Ah, here we are," he noted and extracted a translucent blue bottle from the second to bottom shelf.

"And yet this is the first time I've been down here," Zen pointed out as Clovis yanked out the cork and set it on top of the rack.

"To which I say, you were paying off a debt back then. This is different," Clovis explained as he took a glass off of Zen's hands and filled it about a quarter of the way. "You signed a formal contract with me this time. Which means you are now, by definition, one of my agents, as temporary as it may be." Clovis began to fill Zen's glass, paying no mind to the wolf's slightly puzzled expression. "And, as you can see, that status has its perks."

"You are a very unusual person, Clovis," Zen observed, as if it needed to be stated.

"Well, of course I am," the half-fox smugly responded as he replaced the cork and then the bottle in the rack. Glass in hand, then began to walk towards his gargantuan portrait on the far wall. "Do you have any idea how boring I would be if I wasn't?"

"I can imagine. For one, you probably wouldn't have all of these oversized pictures of yourself," Zen stated, following his employer, curiously inhaling the fumes coming out of his glass. His tastes were not nearly as refined as a connoisseur like Clovis' would be, but he did detect a few fruity hints and maybe a splash of vanilla even.

"Oh? And why's that?"

"I think we both know you'd do anything to inflate your ego, and that includes the artwork here," the wolf continued, halting in front of the portrait with Clovis.

"Ego," Clovis scoffed. "That's such a trivial characteristic."

"Says you."

"Because ego is how big you see yourself as. Seeing as how only one person has control over that, it's not exactly an amazing measure of character."

The assassin paused for a second, verbally staggered by Clovis' philosophical insight. "Alright, fine then. So what do you call this?" Zen finally asked as he motioned towards the portrait with his wine glass.

"Practicality," Clovis responded after a sigh.

Zen paused for a second, pondering that answer. "Practicality for, what, exactly?"

"I'll show you. Let's examine this on the surface first, though. I, personally, see myself, standing tall, in control, everything is exactly how I like it. It is a statement of authority. How about you?"

"I see a self-congratulatory picture purchased by somebody with too much disposable income."

"Fair answer," Clovis shrugged. "A little mean, but a fair answer nevertheless. Why do you think that?"

"Frankly, this just looks like an art piece that someone buys because they can."

"There's the problem."

"What's the problem?" Zen glanced at the crookedly smiling spymaster.

"Zen, in the entire span in which you've known me, when have I ever done anything, to steal your words, because I can?"

"Apart from you extorting me and my brother?"

"Sister," Clovis was quick to correct. "And as unlikeable as that little outing was, you did earn some cash for both you and me, so I don't like to count that."

"Where are you even going with this?"

"Everything I do, Zen, has a purpose behind it. Triviality is a curse, and I never do anything without a reason." Clovis moved his wine glass closer to Zen's and held it in front of him. "Cheers, incidentally."

Zen was still confused by Clovis' explanation, but still good-naturedly replied "Cheers," and tapped the rim of his glass with the other. An even, monotone cling reverberated nicely in the cellar as Clovis shut his eyes and took a small sip from his glass, trying to fully embrace the wine's characteristics. As he did, Zen's ears picked up on a deep, rumbling sound emanating from behind the half-fox's portrait. He observed the wall it was mounted on recede a couple of inches, and then rotate longitudinally, revealing a well-lit passageway and a wooden door at the end. The section of wall grinded to a halt, completely perpendicular to its initial position, as Clovis exhaled with satisfaction and opened his eyes again.

"Pinot noir, Snake River Winery, year 437 if I'm not mistaken...? Yes, yes indeed," Clovis recited the wine's biography, then turned to Zen. "Savor it, my friend. Drafts like this come once in a lifetime," he spoke as he proceeded down the newly revealed passage.

"Fancy," Zen commented, intrigued by both the secret hallway and its somewhat out-of-the-way opening mechanism. Clovis was well within his rights to just rig a pressure plate or something behind one of the bottles in the cellar, but then again he was always one to show off. If he could make it fancy, he would.

Clovis continued down the passage, but stopped about halfway through to look at Zen over his shoulder. "Are you not coming with?" he asked the wolf. "This is the hitman, you know. You caught him yourself."

"Wait, you want me to follow?" Zen asked, making sure he understood exactly what Clovis was saying. "I mean, what's exactly behind that door?"

"My room of operations, of course," Clovis called back. "And yes, by all means you should. Like I said earlier, you're a key player now."

Chapter 8

"You're serious?" Keith skeptically asked as he finished pulling on his cape, completing his dress uniform typical for Basitin generals. Evals was currently escorting him up the stairs to the main deck, where the port was just now coming into plain view. He clicked the circular brass fastener together at the front, inlaid with the Basidian Isles' coat of arms, then double checked to make sure his sword holster was on the right side of his belt and not the left. Propriety was tantamount for his first return home in eighteen months, and the last thing Keith wanted to do was incorrectly sport his military dress uniform.

"Look, I told you what happened, alright?" Evals defended as he lifted open the wooden door, squinting slightly as the harsh sunlight rushed through the opening. "It was an innocent operation, and accidents happen," he added as he arrived above deck, Keith closely following behind. Natani stood on the bow, sporting as nice an outfit as she could manage as well. She was staring out at the island, watching the docks slowly inch closer to the boat. She turned her head to the side as she saw Keith and Evals approach.

"But breaking his foot?" Keith responded. "I'm not saying it can't happen, but it just sounds a little sketchy is all."

"What can I say? Bed frames get very heavy very quickly."

"What exactly is going on here?" Natani jumped in, then noticed someone was missing. "And where's Mike?"

"Evals dropped a bed on his foot and broke it, apparently, so Mike's off duty until he's healed back up," Keith explained.

"Is it bad?" Natani inquired, and if Evals didn't know any better he would have thought that was concern he heard.

"Just a simple fracture, could have been worse," the dog answered. "I'll do a little bit of reading and see what I can do for healing while you two are out."

"Or, you can let me take a look at it," Natani offered. "He's probably in his room, right?" she asked as she started to move towards the stairs.

Evals quickly strode in front of the wolf, obstructing her path. "A-a-actually, Natani, you don't need to do that for me if you don't want. It's just a broken bone, right? I mean, how hard can it be, right? I can handle this."

"You could, but I already know the spell. And I have more practice with it," Natani responded, brushing past the dog and continuing onward.

"But, but hold on a second!" Evals stammered, stepping in front of Natani a second time. "Don't you also have something to do on the island? I mean, for the incident report, you were technically a witness, right? Shouldn't you be going with Keith then for the hearing?"

Natani's annoyance was reaching visible levels by this point. "Evals, get out of the way," she commanded. Keith was considering breaking this up before it escalated, but there was something strangely amusing about this whole exchange, so he decided against it for now.

"I'm just saying, you're a busy guy! This is really a low priority thing. Just let me handle it," Evals quickly, stutteringly replied.

"Seriously, pooch. Move it. I'm going to take a look at his foot."

"And I'm saying you really don't need to and I'm already on it! Come on, Natani. Let me do something responsible for once!"

"Responsible, eh?" Natani perked an ear, but was still unconvinced that Evals could handle spellcasting by ear. As admirable as his loyalty was, the effects were never quite right when read straight from a book, and she didn't suspect this time would be any different.

"Yeah! Mike's my friend and I want to take care of him. So if you don't mind, I'd like to handle this."

"At least let me observe you, then," Natani countered as a compromise. "First time spells never go as planned, and you'll be glad I'm there if things..."

"Please, Nat, why can't you just leave me alone?" Evals begged. "I just want to patch my friend up."

"If I can't come with you, I'm going by myself," Natani pressed, trying to find a way around the obstructive dog and failing to do so. Evals readily positioned himself to deny access to the stairwell, adamant on not letting the disgruntled wolf through.

Natani sighed after a few more attempts and started to search her back pocket instead. "Don't make me get desperate, Evals," she warned.

"Why? What's desperate?" Evals asked curiously, thinking for a second the wolf was backing down.

It was actually quite the contrary. A couple seconds later Natani held up the results of her pocket salvage: a light brown, bone-shaped biscuit, roughly three inches long, being held delicately between her thumb and forefinger. "What's this, boy?" she asked enthusiastically, gently shaking it and watching Evals' eyes follow it. "What is it?"

"That appears to be a dog treat," Evals answered, trying his hardest not to succumb to a more instinctual disposition. Composure was everything...

"No it isn't, silly doggie," Natani playfully chided, waggling the bone even more. "Come on, boy, what do I have here?"

"...it's a cookie," Evals finally gave in.

"Yeah, it's a cookie, isn't it?" Natani continued to coax. Behind her, Keith was silently grinning at the silliness of this little debacle. At least the wolf was keeping it entertaining, and she seemed to be enjoying herself somewhat as well, exploiting Evals' obstinate weakness for free food.

"Is it for me?" Evals asked, gently, intently sniffing the biscuit.

"Mmm, I don't know," Natani teased, lifting the bone up over her head, prompting Evals to elevate his head in order to follow it. "Is it yours?"

"Kinda want it to be," Evals confessed, sitting down to gain a better perspective of the treat.

"Do you want it?"

Evals went silent for a second before answering. "Please?" he asked, eyes still fixated on the wolf's hand.

"Sorry, boy, couldn't hear you. Did you want it?"

"Yeah, yeah!" Evals panted, his tail energetically pounding the deck with a rapid, rhythmic thump.

"Alright, boy. Go get it!" Natani commanded as she flipped the bone over her shoulder towards the mast. Evals almost immediately ran after it, joyously barking as the biscuit took one bounce off the wooden floor. Evals leaped and grabbed it on the rebound. After securing it in both hands, he crashed onto the deck, tumbled, and then slid to a stop on his back, propped in an inverted fashion against the mast. He took a look in his hands briefly and started to wag his tail again once he confirmed the cookie had sustained no damage.

"Got it!" he exclaimed as he started to nibble away at the treat, paying no mind to his abnormal position on the deck.

"Good. Good to hear," Natani stated as he continued his walk to the stairs. "And now that you're out of the way..."

"Actually, Nat, Evals brought up a good point," Keith interrupted from the ship's bow. "You were a witness when we got jumped, so I believe you'll have to get off with me to make the statement."

"Oh," Natani responded, slightly impressed that the dog knew about this before she did. "How soon until we're at port, then?"

"No more than two minutes, if our speed's anything to go by."

"Hmm, I see," the wolf acknowledged, then returned to Evals, who was still unusually lying against the mast and still thoroughly enjoying his snack.

"Thank you, Nat!" he said gleefully as he continued munching on the bone.

"Just try not to make things worse than they are, alright?" Natani sternly requested, skeptically looking down at the dog's head resting between her feet. "One deckhand with a bad foot is more than enough right now."

"Will do!" Evals happily woofed in response, then lifted his head to address Keith. "Hey, boss. I'm thinking I should drop anchor in a couple seconds, right?"

"Actually, just bring us to no sail for a moment, would you? I'd like to drift into port before we anchor down."

Evals immediately flipped the remainder of the biscuit into his mouth and stood back up. "On it, but why?" he inquired as he started to climb the rope bindings around the mast.

"I've always wanted to try something, Evals, and this is probably the best opportunity we'll have for it."

"Ah," Evals called back as he continued to scale the pole. "Shooting for that sort of heroic dismount, huh?"

Keith nodded slightly. "Yeah, something like that," he affirmed, and then his ears twitched again as a different thought came to him. "That reminds me," he half-shouted at the dog, currently shuffling towards the rope near the end of the sail. "What are you and Mike going to do while Natani and I are here?"

"How do you mean?" Evals asked as he began to roll up the canvas sail.

"The island's not completely over our bias towards your kind just yet," Keith clarified before Natani loudly cleared her throat behind the Basitin, disdainfully.

"No offense, Nat," Keith off-handedly remarked before finishing his thought. "We can probably get you through customs as slaves if you want to come with, but I know you in particular aren't very fond with that label now."

"Honestly, Keith, seen one island, seen them all," Evals responded as he secured the sail to the mast with a quick square knot. "Mikey and I will be just fine on the ship here."

"I just don't want you to feel left out, is all."

"Don't stress it, boss," the dog assured as he started to shuffle in reverse back to the main part of the mast. "We'll let you know if we want to come on. Otherwise, we're used to hanging back and keeping our Fair Lady in order."

Natani was about to interject until she realized that Evals was talking about the ship, and slapped a hand over her mouth before she could say anything.

"Alright then, Evals," Keith returned, a bit confused by Natani's body language. "Thank you for that."

"Hey, you paid us to sail a ship. This is just us meeting our terms," Evals replied as he reassumed an upright position and slid back down the pole onto the deck. He then pointed off to the side of the ship. "Also, port bow, fifteen degrees. I'm pretty sure that's the docks."

Keith nodded in acknowledgement. "That they are," he stated as he moved towards the front of the boat, near the gap in the railing. "Care to join me, Natani?"

"I think I'll disembark the normal way, thanks," the wolf declined the offer. Needless to say, Natani did not care much for spontaneity, even if her best friend was the one trying to instigate it.

Keith shrugged indifferently and took position at the bow, attempting to look as regal as possible. He planted his left foot at the end of the forecastle, maintaining his balance by gripping the bowsprit with his right hand. He deeply breathed in the island's air, something he had not sampled in a long time, and eyed the docks as they inched closer and closer to the ship. As they approached stepping distance, Keith swung his right leg forward and, in one fluid rehearsed motion, stepped onto the docks and began to walk down them.

Four harbor guards also seemed to notice Keith disembark from the Quantum, and orderly marched towards him, until Keith met them about two-thirds of the way down the dock. The typical Basitin salutes were exchanged: the guards first extending their right arms and then pressing a clenched fist against their chest, all in disciplined unison. Keith returned the same gesture, then calmly commanded, "At ease." Basitin military were trained in all three of the common languages, and all salutes sharply, crisply fell to the soldiers' sides at that word.

"Welcome back, sir," the front soldier addressed the general. "Please prepare to receive General Alabaster."

"Thank you, Sergea..." Keith began, but stopped himself short. "Wait, General Alabaster?"

"General Keiser!" a sixth Basitin called from the main area of the docks. Keith had to lean slightly to see around the formation, but he did manage to make out Alabaster boldly striding across the wooden planks to meet him. Keith first met him under less than likable circumstances: as the chief auditor for Keith's hearing over a year and a half ago. Of course, Keith deduced that, in the unlikely event that he did encounter Alabaster again, there was almost no way he would still be a lieutenant. He figured he'd probably be promoted once or twice during that time. But somehow Alabaster managed to attain General in eighteen months or less, when he should have, by all rights, been no higher than Major.

"Nice to see you're back, Keith," he gruffly addressed the other general, cutting in front of the four harbor guards as he did so. Alabaster's stature was nothing short of professional. He almost always stood feet shoulder width apart, hands behind his back, eyes unwaveringly fixated on his subject, dress uniform spotless and completely regulation. At least, save for the pipe he almost always kept in his mouth while outside military quarters. That may have been the one thing that could possibly distract anyone from his constantly stern mannerisms and verbiage, and even then it wasn't particularly effective.

So Keith eventually figured that the best way to deal with an overly serious officer of equal rank was to simply behave normally with a hint of professionalism. "Haven't changed much, have you, Aster?" he rhetorically asked. "Apart from the rank, of course."

"Guess you didn't hear the news," Alabaster elaborated, removing his pipe and blowing a quick puff of white smoke into the air. "I am the Eastern Isle's Intelligence General now."

Keith's inherent confusion was done away with in favor of a more impressed feeling. "Very nice, sir. Congratulations," he responded, dignifiedly. "What about Arms General, then? Who managed to get that?"

"Tournament's still going on, so it's still..." Alabaster started, but then had to stop himself to observe something over Keith's right shoulder. "That isn't your ship, I hope," he said, pointing towards the respective direction. A small amount of tobacco bled onto the docks as he inadvertently tilted the pipe.

"Which...oh that one," Keith resignedly answered his own question as he disappointedly watched the bow of the Quantum ram the stonework end of the harbor with a nice, rigorous crunch and then lackadaisically ricochet back. Keith would have found the situation humorous, but the effect was mostly mitigated since it was his ship currently playing ping-pong with the unyielding shipyard.

Evals ran up and leaned over the banister shortly afterwards, panting and out of breath like he had just finished running somewhere. "Sorry there, boss!" he sheepishly called to Keith. "Forgot to drop anchor after you..." He never finished his thought, since that was when he noticed Natani angrily chasing him from out of his peripherals. Instead, he gave a short scream of surprise and started to sprint away from the rightly miffed wolf.

"You'll have to forgive the dog. He's a bit of a dunce," Keith apologized after a small sigh. "Great sailor, just...," he stopped himself for a moment, trying to choose his next words as nicely as possible.

"Not the sharpest knife in the cabinet, eh?"

"I was trying not to be so forthright about it."

"No reason not to be," Alabaster argued, puffing some more smoke into the wind. "You're in a position of power, Keith. It's your job to say it as it is."

"I can try to be considerate at the least."

"You do tend to care a lot about things."

"Only the important things, Aster," Keith pointed out. "And speaking of important things..."

Alabaster picked up the cue immediately. "Ah, yes. The wolf incident. I actually got dispatched to escort you to King Adelaide, if you'd like to come with."

Keith looked back over at the ship to see if Natani was still around. She was still on the boat, if the shouts of "Get over here!" and Evals' yipping were anything to go by, but it looked like she'd be occupied for a while as she vented her frustrations. "I'm not going to need Natani for this, am I?"

"The wolf? Nah, the inquiry isn't set to start until tomorrow. I actually wanted to introduce you to someone and get your quarters set up."

"So what is he going to do for lodging then?"

"I have that sorted too," Alabaster stated and cleared his throat. {Gentlemen!} he firmly addressed the soldiers in the Basitin native language. The soldiers snapped to attention and Alabaster circled around to give his orders.

{There's a Keidran on that ship going by the name of...} He stopped himself when he couldn't remember the name, and glanced at Keith encouragingly.

{Uh..Natani,} Keith divulged. {Forest Wolf tribe.}

Alabaster turned back to the squad. {See to it he is shown to the palace once he disembarks and assist him in whatever ways you can, understood?}

{Yes, sir!} the soldiers yelled back authoritatively, in unison.

{Excellent,} Alabaster finished, and began to leave the docks. "And now that that's over with, General Keiser, let's actually get to the fun bits, eh?"

The cat sat limply in his chair, hands bound behind him, sniffling in an attempt to stymie the small stream of blood coming from his nose. The stonework floor was becoming progressively more stained and scratched, but Clovis took it as an acceptable loss, even for somebody as particular as he was for his estate's presentation. The small, windowless room had housed "information sessions" much more graphic than this one, and it wasn't like the cleanup was too difficult. Clovis wasn't physically present in the room, and neither was anybody else for that matter. Instead, the cat was being observed though a bright, blue-flamed torch across from him in the corner. There were actually four in the room, presumably not to draw attention to the enchanted one. Clovis had magicked it with an observation spell, and was now watching and hearing his captive through a clear, glasslike viewing orb, parked just outside the room in a small communal area.

The half-fox's room of operations was completely underground, and this communal room served as a central hub of sorts for anybody working in it. A spiderlike maze of corridors went every which way from the central area, each leading to a different section of the bunker. Containment, overwatch, even a lounge for recently debriefed agents could be located at the end or in one of the many passages, if you knew which one to go down.

The common room itself was decorated in a very Clovis-like fashion, with high-end furnishings, more than sufficient illumination, even fine rugs parked underneath the wooden tables. Each table, no larger than one would find at a pub, also had a medium-sized metal canister containing basic magical reagents for almost any school there was to practice: mana crystals, chalk for drawing transmutation circles, a few common herbs and flowers. In this case, Clovis had the viewing orb placed in the center of the table, steadied by a bronze stand to keep the orb from rolling.

The cat coughed a bit in view of the three other Keidran situated at the table. Each expressed a unique mood of varying levels of interest. Clovis himself was sitting straight up, fixated, almost enthralled by the orb and its inhabitant. Zen was resting his head in his hand, blandly acknowledging the orb's presence and wondering why nothing has happened in the past five minutes. Blitz was leaning back in his chair, playing with his butterfly knife again and looking as indifferent as always.

Zen finally gave in to his boredom and let out a yawn. "Hey, Blitz?" he asked over the clickity-click of the knife. The fox's uncovered eye looked up at Zen as he continued with his question. "I'm all for letting this bastard stew in his own guilt, but when are we actually going to do something?"

"Very soon, actually," Clovis answered in Blitz's stead, rummaging through his trouser pocket. Zen shot a contemptuous stare his way, feeling like he was interrupted in a way. "You and I are about to head in and see what he has to share. Ideally he's still shaken up from his time with Blitz here."

"Should be," the third agent remarked, rolling the blade over the outside of his hand and catching the case again. "That has to be the most fidgety kitty I've hosed down in a while."

"What can you tell us?" Clovis inquired as he pulled out a small circular tin and popped the lid off. Zen watched the half-fox slip a white tablet into his mouth, as his purebred companion reached over the table to do the same.

"Weak will, weak constitution, weak...just about everything, if we're being honest," Blitz commented as he tugged his bandana down and swallowed his tablet. "I'd say we just keep in mind that he's probably a hired blade, so this may or may not be a good use of our time."

"All information is worth something, Blitz," Clovis rebutted, and then glanced over at Zen. "Ah, my apologies, Zen. Where in the world are my manners?" he spoke like he was unenthusiastically reciting for a play. "Care for a mint?"

Zen skeptically looked down at the tin and then back up at Clovis. "Not really a mint-y sort of guy, thanks," he declined.

"No, please, I insist," Clovis responded, sliding the tin towards the Magi Brother. "Try one."

"Are you being cryptic on purpose again or are these mints just so amazing I have to try one?" Zen inquired pressingly.

Blitz started laughing in response and Clovis' eyes narrowed in the Polar Fox's direction. "Come on, boss! He's got you on that one," he chortled, and then grimaced and half-whispered "Ow," as he shut the knife on his lower half of fingers. He moved the blade to his left hand and started shaking his right to null the pain.

"If you must know, it's an alchemical medicine. A preventative cure," Clovis reluctantly clarified.

"Dare I ask against what?" Zen asked back, unmoved.

Clovis motioned to the viewing orb and to the blue-flamed torches in the corners. "Those torches don't burn blue because I felt like they should, Zen. Tell me, have you ever heard of a plant called dreadroot?"

"Do I look like a botanist?"

Clovis hummed, almost disappointedly, and continued. "I feed its leaves to the torches in that room. It creates a colorless, odorless gas that, when inhaled, causes blurriness of vision and hearing distortion. It keeps me and my agents protected from any stories our 'friends' tell about us."

"And to keep me from feeling the same effects..."

"You're sure you don't want one?" Clovis repeated, pointing at the tin.

"On second thought, I'll give it a bash," Zen replied, extracting a "mint" and promptly ingesting it. Zen was actually pleasantly surprised at the taste; he could have sworn that Clovis was using the term "mint" in the same way a Human plantation owner would use the word "assistant". He was glad to see he was wrong.

Thom entered the common room from one of the corridors, and Clovis turned his head over his shoulder. "I take it he's ready to see us then?"

"Yes, sir," Thom professionally confirmed. "We're ready to begin whenever you are."

"Excellent," Clovis resealed the tin and slipped it back into his pocket. "Let's get to work, eh?" Zen and Blitz nodded back and the three of them rose from their seats to exit the common room. Clovis let the tiger lead as the one most familiar with the layout, and directed the group down the southeastern hall. It was not a far walk to the cat's holding cell, a burnished wood door with one of Clovis' well-structured bodyguards standing at its sides. Thom took up position on the other side of the door, mirroring his companion's posture.

"This is it, sir," Thom called out as he searched his belt for the cell's key.

"Just breathe normally, Zen," Blitz soothingly instructed as they waited for the cell to unlock. "Act like the fumes aren't there."

Zen nodded in thanks, despite finding Blitz's advice a little too consoling, as if Blitz thought he was intimidated by the scenario. He wasn't, of course. Zen had interrogated suspects in much more bizarre circumstances than this, and he was relatively confident that Clovis' medicine would work. No, he had to be certain that it would work. It was just an alchemical substance used to mitigate the vapor's effects. That was it, that was all. It wasn't like it was unsafe either; he saw Clovis and Blitz take one before him, so it had to be safe.

Really, that should have been the end of that train of thought. But the more Zen thought about the medicine, the more he thought something was going to go bad. More specifically, he started to suspect the half-fox was going to try something. No, that would be silly, and uncharacteristic for that matter. Clovis wouldn't purposefully pull the rug out from under him, not after what Zen just did for him. He said himself too; Zen was an asset now. Clovis may have been one for cost efficiency and knowing when something's served its purpose, but even he wouldn't willingly off his own agents. Would he?

And why was this uncertainty only now building? Zen only trusted Clovis implicitly as per his agreement, but so far nothing notably sketchy has happened with either party. That was another thing Clovis mentioned, come to think of it. Zen and, to an equal extent, Blitz were pivotal operatives for finding the hitman, and Clovis, though he was yet to deliver, was the only Keidran Zen knew could be of use for his intel hunt. Nobody gains anything through betrayal here, and Zen was well aware of that. So why the nerves now? Everything was going to be just fine.

He would have pondered the situation more if he wasn't yanked back to reality by the clink of a retracting lock mechanism and then the high-pitched squeak of the door hinges opening. Thom and the other guard had pulled cloth facemasks over their nose and mouth to prevent fume inhalation, and held the door open as the three canids passed through it and into the containment room; first Clovis, then Zen. Blitz stopped in the doorway to look skeptically at Thom and his friend's facemasks.

"Just for the record," he noted as he passed a hand over his bandana and briskly entered the room, "I started that." Thom signaled to the other warden once Blitz had cleared the doorway, then shut it and secured the padlock.

The three spies were now standing opposite the interrogation room's table, and across from the captured Keidran. Everything was eerily lighted by the azure dreadroot torches, and the air was rank with the herb's scent. One of the few instances where a Keidran's amplified sense of smell was actually a drawback, and Zen thought he would have to leave the room because of it.

It was likely designed to be like that, however. Besides, Clovis didn't seem to have any difficulty breathing, and Blitz...actually he didn't count since he still had his bandana with him. In either case, Zen decided to just live with it. On the positive side, all of these factors compounded together - the lighting, the herbs, the stench - made atmosphere palpably horrifying as a result. Even Zen was unnerved just standing in the room, and this was without the vapor's side effects. But that also meant that, if Zen was uneasy in the room, then there was almost no doubt that the captive was nothing short of terrified right now. That was the advantage, and he had to press it as much as he could.

Clovis, however, was the first to speak up. "Good evening, Mister..." Clovis paused, intentionally. It was all part of the psychological warfare he waged with his visitors. "...my word, this is unprofessional of me, isn't it? I had about twenty pages worth of parchment on you and I forget your name, of all things. You have my apologies, friend."

The cat grunted before answering back. "Who..." he weakly gasped, in shock from his progressively dulling senses. "...what are you?"

"Riley!" Clovis exclaimed, clapping his hands together. The captive jolted back to life, likely surprised by the relative loudness of Clovis' reaction. "That was it. Your proper name's probably long gone, but your contractors know to look for Riley. There we go." Clovis walked around to the end of the table and hopped up to take a seat on it. "You don't mind if I call you that, do you?"

"The hell you want with me?" was the captive's response, discomforted by what he had just heard.

"I think we can take that as a yes, boss," Blitz remarked.

"My thoughts exactly," the half-fox agreed, taking care not to drop any names in the felid's presence. "And to address your question, we happen to know you've been assigned to us."

"And not in a good way, either," Zen added as he and Blitz moved across from Clovis. The more they changed up the speaking, the better scare effects they could produce.

"Someone's been passing you notes, it seems," Clovis stated as he pulled the hitman's letter out from his cape's inner pocket, one that Zen had no idea even existed until now. He was almost convinced that Clovis had unlimited storage space in his clothes by this point.

"Would you like to tell us what's in here, or should we tell you?" Clovis offered, tapping the letter in his palm like a disappointed school teacher with a meter stick.

Riley cleared his throat and turned his head to Clovis. "Target info. Bio, appearance, hotspots, things like that."

"And might I ask who you were hunting today?"

"What makes you think I'd tell you?"

"Well, as you can see, or not, rather, you're not going anywhere until you do," Clovis pointed out, motioning towards the torches. "You know, prolonged exposure to dreadroot fumes can complicate breathing, and you have been in here for quite some time..."

"Look, I forget the names, but they work for some dude called Clovis, alright?" Riley quickly yelled back, still heavily breathing. "He's some spymaster or something who's been sticking his nose out where it ain't supposed to be."

"How did you get this letter, Mr. Riley?" Clovis continued his questioning. "A friend tells me someone from the Black Water house paid you a visit this afternoon?"

"Black Water? The hell would they want me for?"

"Well, they gave you the note," Zen interjected. "The exchange happened right in front of me."

"And me, for that matter," Blitz added on.

"Nice try, though," Clovis sneered.

"That guy was a messenger. He didn't give me the orders, not directly," Riley spouted off again, his words quickly slamming into each other.

Clovis raised an eyebrow, interestedly. "Now that's something I didn't know," he remarked, rubbing his hands together. "I like this. We're in business."

"If the Black Water rep didn't give you the orders, who did?" Blitz took his turn to ask a question.

Riley stared in Zen's general direction, unsure to his actual location. "Because I'd tell you that, eh? My clients always come first. I've nothing to share with you."

Clovis shrugged in response. "Alright then," he said, jumping off the table and walking behind Riley. "I understand."

Riley did not like where this was headed. "What's he doing?" he nervously inquired.

"There's a reason I don't do forced memory probes," Clovis elaborated, pulling two mana crystals out of his cloak and placing one in each hand. "It's an extremely painful process and the experience is usually not well received. But if they do one thing, they always give me what I want."

"What the..."

"I'm not going to lie, I enjoy talking to you, Mr. Riley," Clovis spoke over the cat's objections. "And it would be a shame if our conversation had to conclude like this. So, I'm giving you the option to avoid it," he sinisterly offered as he placed one hand on either side of Riley's head, near the cranial area. Riley became even more unnerved, the cold touch of the crystals ramming against his temples.

"Thoughts?" Clovis pressed, expecting a decision.

Riley took a deep breath, trying to regain composure. "You win, alright?" he relied, only slightly panicked. "That note was given to me by a guild master for a mercenary corps. His... name's slipped my mind. I don't think he even brought it up actually."

Zen picked up the letter Clovis left on the table and inspected it as Clovis relinquished Riley's head. "There we go. That wasn't difficult, was it?" Clovis spoke as he pocketed the crystals again.

"Mercenary corps, eh?" Blitz noted. "Boss, you got very popular very quickly."

"I don't consider that a bad thing," Clovis added.

"Is this their logo on the letter here?" Zen inquired, turning the text to the cat and pointing at the upper left corner. Riley squinted to try and make it out, but was unsuccessful.

"Describe it."

"Two swords, crossed behind...that is a Human skull, if I didn't know any better."

"Yeah, that should be them," Riley affirmed. "What exactly are you planning on doing?"

"Your targets have piqued our interest is all," Blitz half-explained. "Just going to see if we can't...lend a hand."

"You're sure you don't have the name," Zen pressed, certain that Riley was hiding something.

"My employer, no," Riley answered sincerely. "Your merc group's called...called The Fang if I remember correctly. Got dealings all over the place."

"Why would they be after someone like Clovis?" Zen continued. Already Riley was proving to be very valuable, but maybe he had something else to share.

He was disappointed by the response. "I'm sorry...but, I don't know. I just take jobs as they come to me. Don't ask why or how, I just do it." He looked up in Zen's general direction. "You ain't gonna kill me now are you?"

For once in his life, Clovis actually looked concerned for someone else's well being. "Come now, my friend, after what you just told us? You've done us a great service."

"And I betrayed my contractors," Riley hissed in response. "They will find me, you know. They don't like their jobs going south."

"Not much we can do in that regard, unfortunately," Clovis remarked, and Riley began to despair at thoughts of The Fang and the inevitable mob of enforcers coming his way. Almost everyone in the room could tell Riley was on the verge of panicking entirely. A shame, Clovis thought, for someone who had maintained his composure so well up to now. "We'll also be taking this letter, if it's quite alright. And, thank you for your time, Mr. Riley." The spymaster then knocked on the door four times, the signal for Thom to unlock it again.

Zen folded up the paper and handed it back to Clovis. "So what about me then?" he whispered, trying not to let Riley overhear. "Your guys find anything for me?"

Clovis' ears perked again at that question. "Ah, yes. We did, as a matter of fact." He briefly paused to think and then made a proposal. "Hmm..MacMillan's, five-thirty tomorrow evening? I'll send Blitz with your payment."

"My regards," Zen thanked as he heard the lock slide off of the door. Politely, he walked around Clovis and pushed the door open for him.

Riley leaned over and saw both the full- and half-wolf exiting the room. "Hey, hey!" he called after them. "What about me, huh? You gonna let me go or what?"

Clovis turned back to Riley from the corridor. "Oh, no. We're letting you go," Clovis explained. "And in fact, this Polar Fox here is going to show you out of the building right now." He then nodded to Zen, who shut the door behind him with an almost disheartening slam. Blitz walked towards the table and leaned on it with both hands.

"What does that mean, you're showing me out?" Riley asked.

"Just look at the light, mate," Blitz calmly instructed as he pulled back his eye patch. "This will not hurt a bit."