A video drive lay on a dingy table, haunting him. Next to it, a half-empty bottle of whiskey. Lars knew he needed to watch the video again, but he couldn’t yet. The little girl in the experiment vlogs was the same as the girl who called herself Anima, and she had been the subject of horrific torture in the name of scientific advancement.
He had noted all he could remember when he returned to his run down apartment. Now, he reread the shaky scrawl, trying to connect dots with invisible lines.
“She said she was a failed amalgamation of human and artificial intelligence. But she has split personalities, or was it truly two separate minds?”
The events that occurred at BioCorp were tormenting him. Animi, the ancient, rusted, one-armed Biomech creature, plagued his dream. He kept seeing it with its improvised weapon, the long shard of glass, something dark dripping from the edge. His mother dead on the floor at Animi’s feet.
He wasn't sure if the events of the encounter were mixing with his usual nightmares or if his mind was trying to make him see a link he was missing.
Lies buried deep in the past were beginning to resurface. And Lars was going to uncover them. Just as soon as he finished drowning his demons.
———
Lars was hungover—again—and on the warpath. For three days, he had been hunting for Anika. And for three days, she’d been impossible to find.
He’d revisited many shops on the Artisan Street they had visited on the first day of the investigation. Focusing on the people she’d seemed the friendliest with. The street was actually 30th Street—creative, just like the rest of the Protectorate's rebranding—but most called it Artisan Street or something of that variety. Either way, no one knew anything, or they weren’t telling Lars.
Her landlord and neighbours were equally tight-lipped. Working for the Protectorate had drawbacks, but Lars had no other job prospects, so he was out combing the streets for Anika.
He walked down Market Street, pondering his choices. He could submit a formal request for the access codes to Anika’s place of residence. Alternatively, an increasingly attractive option, the longer this took and the more irritated he became, was to call in a city-wide search. He had that sort of authority, but that was the upper limits of it. Yet, both options involved the Protectorate, and Lars wasn’t ready to update them on his investigation.
Why was Anika at BioCorp that night? Was she okay? He needed to have a chat with her. If only he could find her—
A flash of emerald caught his eye from across the crowded street, and something Sabdur, the bolt maker, had said came back to him. Always the hair. The memory propelled Lars through the street, blazing a trail straight toward where he saw the green. He shouldered past people, ignoring the outraged protests of those he pushed through.
He caught up in time to see a figure in a dark, hooded coat slip into the back entrance of a building, an alley right off the main market drag. Like the rest on Market Street, the building was primarily a dark steel-like metal, completely unlike the quaint brick storefronts on Artisan Street. They stretched high into the sky, giving the street an uncomfortably enclosed feeling.
Above the shops were apartments. Expensive solely because of the ideal location. Windows overlooked the street, and the CLR ran above. The occasional blue spark of charge popped from the rail car's overhead line.
Lars was leaning against the building opposite the backdoor, waiting. Fifteen minutes later, the door cracked open, and Anika’s face peeked out, checking that the coast was clear. Too bad for her, it was not clear.
Her eyes locked on his.
“Damn.”
“Mhm.”
He folded his arms.
“You and I are gonna have a chat.”
“Lars, how great to see you. So sorry, but I’m swamped right now. Can we schedule a time to chat later?”
“Not a chance.”
His tone made it clear there was no room for argument.
She trudged out, sulking. Lars led the way to a pub, The Jolly Bot. A popular joint. And noisy. The Recounter would struggle to capture their conversation with all the background noise. He also used his overcoat to cover the mic as an extra precaution. The pub was a favourite of his, suitable for delicate investigations and good drinks.
The Jolly Bot was all dark oaks, dimmed voltage orbs flickering like candles, and red velvet seat cushions. Booths lined one wall, tall backs creating a more intimate setting. Round pub tables filled the empty space between booth and bar. The bar had a slick, shiny top, the owner taking evident pride in the establishment's appearance.
Lars pointed Anika towards a table in the back and flagged the bartender. It took only moments for the serving bot to drop off his beer before hurrying to clean up a spill.
He took a long drink and set his notepad on the table. Ready to record whatever she had to say. That she had followed him to the pub rather than run away helped ease some of his suspicion toward her.
Anika didn’t order a drink. She just sat and twiddled her thumbs, breaking the silence when she couldn’t take it anymore. Predictable.
“So…how’ve you been?”
“Why’d I run into you at that place?”
Lars kept his voice low, conscious of listening ears.
“I told you, a Paige delivered a letter.”
“And off you went?”
She’d have to do better than that. No one was that reckless…except maybe him.
“More or less.”
She shrugged.
“Hm. Why’d you get a tip?”
“Maybe because I’m the only other person looking into this disappearance? My ties to Theo?”
That may have been true. But Lars had never seen a citizen this invested and intrusive. He noted all of this.
“And why are you investigating?
“I want to resume my apprenticeship. And get a paycheque again.”
“So let me do my job without interference.”
The truth was, she was breaking down his resolve, though. Or maybe BioCorp had done that. He had a whole lot of questions but no answers. Tracking down Anika had taken a large portion of his time. Nightmares and whiskey had taken the other.
“Play your games, Cercher. But you need me. I spent the last few days digging and found a lead.”
“Bullshit.”
“Nope.”
She shook her head and smiled smugly. Her connections as a regular ol’ citizen were getting her further than Lars. He absolutely did not have faith in a god, but if he did, he would pray with everything in him not to need her help. However, he may have to concede on this occasion. Just to get him going, make sure Anika isn’t causing problems for him to clean up and stuff like that.
Anika leaned in across the table and motioned him closer. She glanced around covertly.
“Meet me tonight. 23rd hour. Rubedo.”
She pulled up her hood, slid out of the booth, and left the pub.
“What just happened?”
Lars goggled after her as the door swung closed.
“I dare say she walked out on you, sir. Would you like another beverage? Perhaps something stronger to ease love's keen sting.”
“What the—”
He noticed the serving bot standing next to the booth. It looked to the door and back at Lars.
“Bugger off.”
The server grabbed the empty beer bottle and scurried off. This type of bot may have been all mechanical parts and programming in a faux skin suit, with relatively limited capabilities compared to other…models. But they also had a weird understanding of nuance—understanding may be a stretch. Intuitive, but largely robotic. It could make for awkward interactions.
———
“Why did I come?”
How does she keep weaselling her way into his case? Lars was deeply disappointed with himself as he made his way down dark and empty streets. He’d rather be at home. The other half of the bottle called to him.
But this investigation was taking too long, he reasoned with himself. He needed to focus on his other case. He'd take Anika’s aid as long as she proved valuable—especially since he couldn’t turn to the Protectorate without revealing that he went to BioCorp against direct orders.
Ten past the 23rd hour, Lars arrived at Rubedo. He had donned regular clothes—nearly the same as his work wear—and left the Recounter in his office. He ventured that it wouldn’t be welcome at a late-night clandestine meeting.
“You’re late.”
Anika stepped out of the shadows, clad in all black. It took extreme force of will for Lars not to startle out of his skin.
“What’re you wearing?”
“My detectiving gear.”
“That’s not a word, and you look like you’re about to rob a joint.”
“Stuff it. Let’s go, we’re gonna be late. Act cool, avoid being too…protectoratey.”
“Also, not a real word.”
“Come on.”
Lars watched as Anika…the only way he could describe it is crept…down Artisan Street.
“You’re not a spy. Cut it out.”
“You’re such a fun sponge.”
They didn’t have to walk long to reach their destination, the Archivist’s shop. The storefront had no signs, no windows, or any other indicator of it being a place of business. Just a door with a shimmering voltage barrier and a small slot cut into it. He made a mental note to check into the establishment after this whole mess was figured out.
Anika rapted an odd brick, set into the wall next to the door, twice. Then, she slapped her palm against it hard. The slot opened, and two green eyes peered out.
“Miss Twile, you’re late. Just a moment. Come inside now, quickly.”
There was a click, and the door slid open. Lars and Anika hurried in. The door and barrier immediately locked behind them.
If Lars had preconceived notions of what to expect from the Archivist's business, they were immediately dashed.
Inside was a counter and enough standing room in front of it for two people, possibly three if you squeezed. The room was cramped, dimly lit, and utterly empty beside the counter. There was a door behind the counter, with a second voltage barrier restricting access. Few places in Last Stand had barriers on interior doors. Protectorate Headquarters did. But it was the Protectorate, so of course they did.
“Thank you for meeting with us, Ms. Archivist.”
A smartly dressed woman in her forties walked behind the counter. She was relatively plain, aside from her tailored pinstripe pantsuit. Her face clearly said she wasn’t here to waste time as she dipped her head to acknowledge Anika.
“Who’s this? Aren’t you that investigator that was sniffing around last week?”
“He’s alright. Mostly. He’s helping me out. Were you able to find the stuff?”
Helping her? He refrained from correcting Anika for the sake of the investigation.
“You insult me, Miss Twile. I shall retrieve the order. Wait here, and do not touch anything.”
She looked pointedly at Lars. That last bit was definitely meant for him. When her eyes swivelled to him, he noticed only one eye truly focused. The other looked ahead. Was that a prosthetic eye? Something that advanced hadn’t been used in decades, especially not in Last Stand. How did she get something like that? And why was she missing an eye?
She turned to the barred door behind her and looked into a—was that a retina scanner—with her false eye. He really needed to check into this Archivist person later. She was utilizing archaic tech; for all it was advanced. But it was also illegal. The Protectorate would execute the Archivist if they found out. Lars wasn’t keen on telling them, though, not unless he had to. This knowledge could be helpful to his off the books investigation, currently taking the back burner to this one, but far more important in Lars' opinion.
“How is this helpful—”
“Shush. This isn’t the place for discussion.”
“You are wise, Miss Twile. For all things can be valuable to the right person for the right price.”
The Archivist returned carrying books. She placed the stack on the counter and pushed them towards Anika. There were four, but he didn’t get a chance to read the titles. Anika shook out a folded-up canvas bag and stashed the books inside.
“Thank you! I’ll be by in a few days, Ms. Archivist.”
“Always a pleasure, Miss Twile.”
They were ushered out of the shop just as quickly as they entered.
“What was that about?”
“That’s the Archivist. She collects all manner of things. Bobbles and trinkets, books, rare ingredients, information and secrets. If it exists and you want it—and can afford it—she’ll acquire it for you. Never heard of her failing. Sometimes, it takes a while, but she’s legit. Doesn’t deal in flesh or death, and she has a few other ethical rules. Don’t arrest her!”
Lars was familiar with the criminal gangs in Last Stand: slippery bastards, hard to pin evidence on, and they had a penchant for paying off protectors. The gangs were small, unable to grow in size or strength within the limited confined of an isolated city. And he knew they dealt in black market goods. But it sounded like the Archivist operated on a completely different level. Could she really get anything? Was she involved with the street gangs? One thing he knew for sure was that he definitely would not be arresting the Archivist.
“What now?”
Anika pulled two books from her bag and held them out but didn’t let go as Lars tried to grab them.
“Are you going to return them once you’re done?”
“Sure.”
Anika released the books.
“Don’t disappear this time. Meet me at The Jolly Bot, tomorrow. 12th hour.”
———
Anika was in her apartment, on her sole chair, fighting with Urri. Twas the nature between cat and servant. He had determined that the book she was about to pick up from the side table would make a good napping spot. Anika disagreed.
Her lease didn’t allow pets. Neither did the Protectorate in Last Stand. But Urri was special because he was a Biomech Chartreux. The smartest, handsomest kitty to ever bless Triahkel. He was also a secret. Everyone had secrets. Urri was one of Anika’s.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“Meow.”
“Meeeow.”
She responded. Anika was fairly sure they were also telepathically linked, though the Archivist had assured her that was impossible. Kinda disappointing. Alas, you can’t have it all. Still, Urri and her reached an agreement, and she only sustained one injury in the process. He’d nap on that book, and she’d start with the other instead.
“You win this time.”
“Meoooooow.”
“Now you’re just being dramatic.”
Anika rolled her eyes but gave him head pets. Then he demanded an ear massage. And 10 minutes later, after a thorough chin scratching, she was allowed to read.
The books she bought were banned, or so the Archivist told her. Many older texts were lost during the Corruption Wars. Vast collections turned to ash as libraries burned and cities fell.
One book, The Remains: A Most Accurate Account of Triahkel’s Corruption, was a droll read. Anika didn’t have the same love of learning almost anything that Theo did. Yes, she liked to learn things, primarily alchemical. She also enjoyed novels. But history books were a no thank you, so she skimmed as much of the book as possible. She learned a few things of note, so it wasn’t a waste of time or chrono.
The Remains contained common knowledge. But it was presented from a different perspective. Not the far-removed histories told to children in school. But from someone who had witnessed the events. Or parts of them, at least.
One terrible evening changed the world forever. Triahkel was consumed by a terrible blight. The Corruption. It was a disease wrought of ambition. Pushing the boundaries of science. They said such a thing was not possible. Oh, how they were wrong.
A success was achieved. The ultimate breakthrough. The mind of a rat was integrated with the most sophisticated artificial intelligence known to man. That was the beginning.
After repeating the experiments with success after success, human trials began. These were not met with the same victories. But it was not a complete failure—as far as experiment success went—because the first Biomech Human came from that failure.
Their mind did not fully merge, but the AI integration ‘unlocked’ the human species' full potential, enhancing the body. These trials were conducted multiple times, but always with the same results. Hence, the Biomech Community was born.
Shortly thereafter, animals—transformed, tagged, and released back into the wild—began to show signs of aggression. Attacking people commuting to and from cities. Some even so brazen as to enter cities in packs or groups and slaughter mercilessly.
These events rose in frequency and became increasingly coordinated until the situation devolved into full-scale war, the likes of which the world has never seen nor will likely see again. The Corruption Wars, as it became known, consumed Triahkel. Only fortified cities with vast voltage barriers and resources could stand against the Dark Mech.
Over the years, the monsters and the men picked away at each other. Leaving Triahkel a shell of the world it once was.
She also learned that BioCorp had regional flagship locations near all five remaining cities of what is now the Eternal Collective. That seems suspicious. And Dr. Kirn, whom Anima mentioned, was the lead researcher on Project Biomorphosis. Stupid name, but it was financed for decades through public donations, government funding, and the primary benefactor, Mr. Aslow. So, people must not have cared much about the name. Both things were not included in the story the Institute for Instruction told them as kids.
The second book, Key Figures in the Fall of Striport and Rise of Last Stand overlapped with the first. Repeating much of the same information, just in different ways.
Anika came across one particularly interesting tidbit.
If one name is to go down in infamy, it would be Dr. Pisanio Kirn.
Dr. Kirn was just another scientist passed the mantle of Project Biomorphosis. Unfortunate for him, as he was the lead researcher when the Corruption began. The disease did not spread from Striport, but it was there that it reached its zenith, and there, where the last stand was made. And when the war came to Striport, Dr. Kirn was nowhere to be found. The Protectorate rose up and fought fiercely against the Corrupted. Countless losses on both sides caused Triahkel to enter a stalemate with the beasts that ravaged us.
It was never revealed what happened to Dr. Kirn. Still, he achieved something—perhaps in collaboration with another facility—of great and terrible note. A marvellous breakthrough that led to the collapse of the known world.
“Hm. So, Dr. Kirn unleashed the corruption and fled. I probably wouldn't want to stick around for that backlash either.”
“Me-ow.”
Urri agreed.
“There’s obviously more to it than that. But what does any of this have to do with the case?”
“Meow.”
“If you have any good ideas, please, share.”
She glared at Urri, and he flicked her in the face with his tail.
“Maybe Lars will find something.”
She snickered conspiratorially with Urri. She had given Lars the more technical books to look over.
———
When Lars sluggishly made his way to the back booth at the pub, Anika felt sorta bad for giving him the difficult books. He looked reminiscent of a raccoon, dark circles ringing his eyes. He’d missed a button on his vest, and he smelled of booze. Something was going on with him.
On top of whatever he was going through, their constant butting heads was hindering the investigation. Anika decided it was a good time to tell him just that. Didn’t want animosities building in their working relationship.
“Lars, we need to start working together.”
“Whatsitlooklikewe’redoing?”
It took Anika a moment to puzzle out the string of words. A server dropped a coffee off at the table, took one glance at Lars’ dishevelled state, and shuffled off. The pub wasn’t that busy at 12th hour, but the bot obviously didn’t want to be on the receiving end of the Protectorate’s ire.
“What I mean is that us butting heads only slows us down. We need better teamwork.”
“We aren’t a team.”
There was marginally more life in his voice after chugging his coffee. But the attitude still needed work.
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about! It gets us nowhere.”
She splayed her hands out, emphasizing her statement.
“Whatever. Let’s see your notes.”
That gave her pause.
“Notes?”
“From the books.”
She glanced down at his pad of paper, already sitting open on the table, waiting to be written in, and realized she’d messed up.
…
“You did take notes?”
Anika knew there was only one correct answer.
“Mhm. Sure did.”
“Where are they?”
She tapped a finger to her temple and flashed her most confident smile. Lars responded with his most disappointed frown.
“So…what did you find?”
She steered the conversation away from her.
“Lots. Don't see what any of it has to do with the case.”
“Yeah, me either. But the tip said BioCorp had answers. There must be something for us to find.”
“Or it was a ploy of some sort.”
But still, he flipped open his notepad.
“BioCorpse seems to be referring to the bot graveyard.”
“Yeah, that was an easy clue after meeting Anima and her…friends. Did you know BioCorp’s main research facilities were all located near or in each city in the Eternal Collective?
“Good info.”
He jotted it down.
“Anima mentioned a Dr. Kirn and a Ms. Brimley. I didn’t see anything about Brimley but found some things about Kirn.”
Lars blanched.
“Yeah, Kirn was on the video.”
“Video! Why didn’t you tell me about it?”
Lars opened his mouth to answer, but she did it for him.
“Because you’re not a detective. This is my case. I’m the big bad investigator.”
Anika’s hand did the universal signal for yapping, but he didn’t rise to the bait.
“Dr. Kirn was the lead researcher on the project but disappeared when the Corruption grew. Ms. Brimley and Dr. Kirn told Anima they’d be back for her and to wait at BioCorp. The poor girl has been alone this whole time.”
“Don’t let it fool you.”
“You mean her.”
“It.”
———
And therein was the problem. One of the reasons the Corruption Wars were so catastrophic. Personal opinion.
Lars’ books were hard to work through. They pertained to the more technical side of biomech research. Most of it was like reading a foreign language full of unpronounceable words, equations multiple pages long, and lots of stuff about formulas and chemical compounds. The anecdotal parts were far and few between, but some were very enlightening.
“Protectorate history says animal trials were good, so they moved to humans, then the corrupted animals started a war that wiped us out.”
“I’ve heard that too, and the book I read also said it.”
She agreed hesitantly. Unsure where this was going.
“Two things wrong with that. The video drive showed logs going back a few years before animal trials finished. And it wasn’t only animals that attacked humans in the war.”
Anika leaned in.
“What do you mean?”
“Humans joined ‘em. Lots of people disagreed on how humane the experiments were. How ethical. It attracted attention from animal rights activists, Biomech supporters, and corruption sympathizers. You name it, there was a group for it.”
“What! Did you read anything about Aslow, the guy who funded most of the project? I’ve never heard of him before meeting Anima.”
“No mention of Aslow. But he was in the video, too.”
Either a lot of information was lost in the years following the war, or something much larger was at play.
“I need to see it.”
“No, you don’t.”
He wasn’t sure if he was trying to spare her or himself from watching it. The first viewing was seared into his mind.
“Lars, we have to work together.”
She put her fist down on the table.
“I really don’t recommend watching it.”
———
That night, Lars was flipping through the books Anika had traded for his when a name in Key Figures caught his attention. Harlyk Von Cercher.
He put down the bottle and picked up the book instead. Trying to make out the words through blurry vision.
…A true hero of the people, Harlyk Von Cercher. A security guard employed in the medical department of BioCorp. When the Corruption Wars arrived at Striport’s doorstep, BioCorp, near the city's outskirts, was one of the first sites attacked. The fearless Von Cercher was responsible for the safe evacuation of over 100 patients and staff while single-handedly defending the institution from an enemy squad.
The incredible heroics that day will make Harlyk Von Cercher a name known throughout Triahkel forevermore. A statue to commemorate his deeds will be erected near the entrance of the city, as much a warning to Corrupted as a memorializing piece.
Lars read the passage a few more times. He knew his great-great-grandfather was a protector in the early years of the Protectorate. But a direct link to BioCorp? That was new. And Lars had never seen a statue of him.
He raised the bottle to his lips.
———
Anika had borrowed a video playback screen from Sabdur. They weren’t common, but she couldn’t afford to keep buying things from the Archivist, so she’d had to reach out to friends to find one.
She waited at The Jolly Bot till 14th hour, 1.5 hours after their agreed upon meeting time, but Lars never showed. The logical solution was to go find him. Their investigation was hedging into dicey territory. Questioning the Protectorate on anything was dangerous. What if Lars had been compromised? The Protectorate dealt with dissent swiftly and harshly.
Lars had also been off-kilter these last few days. Nothing like the serious, put together investigator she’d met at Rubedo and at BioCorp.
She knew the general direction he went home, but it took a lot of asking around to find his place. Turns out, no one knew Lars’ by name, but asking where she could find the grumpy Protectorate Investigator got her to the right door. Everyone in Last Stand knew where their nearest Protectorate neighbour lived.
The apartment building was run down. A creaky, worn staircase led to three doors on each floor. Anika followed it up to the 5th floor, stepping over rusty buckets placed here and there, seemingly to collect water leaking through the roof.
When she reached apartment number 13, she knocked loudly on the door. She waited for what she deemed a polite amount of time, then hit the door harder.
“Shut up, I’m coming.”
Lars shouted from inside.
A lock clicked, and the door swung open. An extremely drunk Lars, who’d been using the door to steady himself, stumbled as his support fell away.
“What do you want?”
“I have the player. Let's do this.”
She walked past Lars into his home. If you could call it that.
The studio apartment was sparsely decorated, as in not decorated at all. Booze bottles littered the table and counter surfaces. A murphy bed and a dresser were the only other pieces of furniture apart from the table and single chair. Everything was drab shades of brown or grey.
“You can’t just come in here.”
His words were slightly slurred as he rushed in after her.
“What’s going on, Lars? Why didn’t you show up? Why are you drunk at 14th hour?”
“This is the first lead I’ve had in 18 years.”
He slammed his hands down on the tabletop. Anika was a bit surprised it didn’t break from the force of the hit.
“Lead for what?”
Anika was certain he wouldn’t be answering if he wasn’t so inebriated.
“Their murder.”
Her mind flashed to Theo in a panic. But only for a moment. They had been missing for close to two weeks, not 18 years.
“Who’s murder, Lars?”
“My family...”
The lead had to have come from BioCorp.
“What do you mean?”
“Harlyk Von Cercher. The pieces are all there. But how do they fit—”
He sat down heavily at the dining chair. Lost in drunken thought.
Key Figures was lying open on the table with a small block and cable sitting next to it, the video drive. She grabbed both items and left. Lars clearly wouldn’t be watching it with her.
She still couldn't see the connection to Keeper Zsig, Protector Atncore, or Theo after watching the vlogs but saw other links in the video.
Following a terribly long bout of sickness, Anika realized a few things:
Anima was over 150 years old. Biomechs don’t live that long. Which means they figured out more than vocal control. That is elixir of life levels of longevity. She looks like she stopped aging around eight. Another side-effect of the experiments? And also, something about the Corruption Wars is being covered up. Why? And who’s doing, or did, the covering?
Hopefully, Lars would have some answers once he sobered up.
———
Potions and Tonics by Egert was no Rubedo. It was crowded. Not with business but with products. Bottle after generic bottle of potions lined shelves. Plain liquids that could have been fruit juice, for all he could tell. Nothing like the fantastic displays he saw at the master alchemist's shop.
The shop was also not as organized or as clean as Rubedo. It was downright dirty. Dust filled the shelves between the bottles, the hassle of clearing all the bottles to wipe them down clearly too laborious for the proprietor. The front counter was likewise dirty and stained. And Lars couldn't tell if the floors had ever truly been washed.
Behind the counter was a small space with outdated equipment. Even he could tell that Theodora Silke’s equipment was light years ahead of this stuff. And there was no separate room for mixing the potions. Instead, they were made in bulk batches over a modest stove with rudimentary instruments and then put into a dispenser jar. The alchemist held a bottle underneath the spigot, filled it up, screwed on a cap, and moved to the next bottle.
“Egert Lupton?”
“That’d be me.”
A plump middle-aged man sat on a chair, casually filling glass after glass.
“High Protector Velric scheduled an appointment for you to deconstruct a potion. We need to know what's in it and what it does.”
“Oh, that's right!”
The man suddenly brightened. He was probably getting a reasonable sum of money for this.
“You know how to do it?”
“Of course! A simple task, I’m sure. You brought my fee?”
Lars gave the man a suspicious look.
“How will you do it?”
The man launched into an explanation that Lars couldn't follow but noticed it featured a lot of speculation. Anika’s warning to not let someone else look at the potion rang like an alarm in the back of his mind.
When Egert finished his explanation, Lars remembered something else.
“Thought Alchemists didn't share trade information?”
Egert paled but recovered quickly—greed trumping trade. Lars was beginning to understand the differences between Rubedo and the other alchemist shops.
“I wouldn't dare keep secrets from the Protectorate, sir!”
“Hm.”
“Who concocted the draft?
This man wanted both payment and to determine if the recipe was worth stealing.
“Can’t say.”
“Alright, alright. Let’s see the potion then, shall we?
“Only a sample.”
“Very well.”
Egert was unmistakably displeased by the way this was going but placed a small dish on the counter.
Lars had a choice to make. Should he let this man test the only evidence they had from the disappearance? Or should he switch the potion out for a different one?
Warning bells kept ringing in his head. Or maybe that was the hangover.
He reached into a bag he'd been carrying and pulled out a standard-grade lie detection potion, a truth serum. They weren’t foolproof, but Protectorate officials usually carried one on them—the potion saved a lot of citizens from interrogation.
Protectorate employees received their supplies from the Protectorate. He didn't frequent these shops unless he was looking for something personal—which was rare for him. But Egert didn’t seem like the good sort, or a good alchemist for that matter. So Lars poured a bit of plum coloured truth serum into the dish and left it with the alchemist to analyze.
Lars went straight to Anika’s after he leaving Egert’s. He couldn't just take the potion wherever he wanted. Evidence had to be checked in and out, so if he was going to let her test some, it was now or never.
He quietly knocked on her door, unsure if she could hear it. But she must have because a minute later, she opened the door.
She raised a hand to wave before opening her mouth to greet him. In this case, her hand talking was helpful. The action gave him enough time to shove a bottle and note in her face before any real noise could come out.
Anika snatched the note that he’d just crinkled on her nose, scowling. But as she read the note, her lips formed an O shape, her eyes grew wider, and she looked at the yellow potion Lars was holding out to her, unable to hide the hint of excitement in her eyes. Not greed like Egert, just excited curiosity.
She reread the note. Then, she darted back into her apartment with the mysterious potion. At least she was taking the quiet part seriously.
Lars was on the clock; he had to be since he was carrying evidence around. But that also meant his Recounter was on, and he had already been recorded delivering the potion sample to Egert. Audio recording only. Though they existed, videos were not as prevalent as before the Corruption Wars. It was a mostly discarded technology, lucky for him.
Anika came back out with the potion, the liquid level lower but not empty.
He stashed it away as she waved her thanks.
He nodded, wondering if he’d made the right choice. But the video and book proved that the Protectorate was lying about something. How deep did it run? Did it involve his family?
Lars returned to his office at Central Command. He pulled out a form and began filling out a carefully worded request for access to the Protectorate Library and Records hall.