It doesn’t take long for the four of us to get really into looting Anselm Salzwedel’s home. For all four of us, he’s an example of unattainable heights of wealth and influence, capable of building a home on a conservatory world, and cramming it full of priceless artifacts. Whether we were living on the streets of Limbo City or in the dirt on Demeter VII, it seemed impossibly far from where we started, to here.
Apparently the collector’s in a bit of money trouble these days, which is why we even know he has Niko’s Regalia in the first place. He put it, along with much of his collection, up for auction on the black market. Not the small-time black market of the LC streets, but the kind only someone of his station can get access to. So by looting his collection a day before that very auction, we’re not only enriching ourselves (outstanding debts to the Red Sun Syndicate aside), we’re ruining him as well.
That’s just fine by me, though. For one, it’s not like he’s going to end up on the streets. He’ll just have to sell off an ultrayacht or two instead. And for another, nobody gets to be as rich as him without destroying a few thousand lives, at minimum. Considering some of the things we’re passing by in this house, I’d say more like tens of thousands, if not more.
What really strikes me about Salzwedel’s home, though, is how tacky it all is. I likened it to a museum after first seeing it, because of all the artifacts and collectibles on display, but museums have some sense of organization and elegance to them that this place lacks. He just has these items arrayed around the place practically at random. On our way towards the nearest staircase down to the second floor, in a single hallway alone, we pass three wildly incongruous items right next to each other.
The first item is a suit of armor emblazoned with a bright red cross, a relic from some ancient Earth kingdom that was so fervently religious, their soldiers all wore the symbol of the church right on their chests. The second is a vintage poster for a classic film called ‘Waterworld,’ which looks fragile enough behind its protective cover that I suspect it’d crumble to dust if I touché it, which is the only reason I don’t roll it up and stick it in our sack. And the third is a glass case containing a single bullet, which the placard identifies as the last bullet fired in the Kallisto Campaign, a notoriously brutal series of battles that ended with the Warlord coming to offer his surrender to the Imperium’s forces, after having forced his people to fight losing battle after losing battle merely to slow the enemy down. He was surrendering to a man called Brokkr, the Bastard-General, one of the Nine Titans, and legend has it that Brokker’s response was, without a word, to shoot the warlord in the face. And this, supposedly, was the bullet that did it.
That bullet, we do take, dropping it in the bag. Priceless historical artifact it may be, but I figure if it’s survived this long, a little rough treatment now won’t destroy it. The point is, there’s no unifying theme or connection between any of that. It’s all just thrown together in a jumbled mess. Half of this stuff, I doubt Salzwedel even cares about particularly. He’s just accumulating things for the sake of it, because the process of becoming so wealthy that he can afford all this has left him with a giant hole in his heart, and he thinks he can fill it through consumption.
Besides the priceless artifacts everywhere, the house is incredibly clean. It’s a very modern design, mostly smooth white surfaces, with the occasional bit of false wood paneling to make it look a little less like the inside of a luxury space cruiser. None of the lights are on, and I’m happy to keep it that way, but the light fixtures mostly seem to be big pillar-things that hang from the ceilings, instead of, like, lamps or whatever. None of them dangle low enough for me to touch, and I have to restrain the impulse to jump up and swat at one of them to see if it’d swing around a bit.
Halfway through the second floor of the house, after several scheduled stops to steal, among other things, an original copy of the first Emperor’s only published book, Purpose, and a set of dueling pistols from the seventeenth century of the Earth calendar, Saffi raises a hand and brings us to a halt.
“Hold up, I wanna grab something.”
She’s not the first of us to make an unscheduled stop, so we do what we did before. The Recluse puts down the duffel bag containing our gear, and she opens it up to retrieve the necessary tools, in this case a simple glass cutter, which she attaches to the exterior of a glass display case, behind which sits a small golden model of a dragonfly, with a pair of tiny pink gemstones in the place of its eyes.
“Don’t think that’s gonna go for much,” Niko points out, as the glass cutter swiftly carves out a circle from the surface of the case, allowing Saffi to reach inside and pluck the trinket out.
“Yeah, I know. I just want it.”
Rather than tossing it in the sack, she slips the dragonfly into a pocket and zips it shut. Stowing the glass cutter, the Recluse picks up the duffel bag and hoists it over his shoulder, allowing us to continue.
After another few stops to steal a set of silverware from the wreck of the spacecruiser Gargantuan, an unsolved quantum clockwork puzzle box designed by the Fractalsmith, and a ceremonial death mask from the ancient Venusian Caliphate, we reach the stairs leading down to the first floor. Niko and Saffi are lagging behind the Recluse and me slightly, I suspect they’re chatting privately over the brainband.
Reaching across his chest to adjust the strap of the bag on his shoulder, the Recluse stumbles, seconds away from tumbling down the long flight of stairs. My hand snaps out reflexively, grasping the back of the SecuriCorp uniform he’s wearing, pulling him back. He flails his arms a bit, trying to regain his balance, and grasps the railing tight.
“Whew. Thanks for that. Guess I’m still getting my land legs back.”
“No problem.” I release my grip on his shirt, but keep my hand close in case he loses his balance again. “How long did you spend in that chair anyway?”
“…too long,” he answers somberly, though that doesn’t actually clarify much for me. “I have to thank you for giving me the push to leave.”
Doesn’t really feel like I deserve any thanks, since I really just wanted him for the job, but I’ll take it.
“Glad to hear you’re having a good time. Just remember, we’re here to do a job.”
“Of course. I do have quite a bit more experience with this sort of thing than you.” He laughs good-naturedly, and keeps walking. Only after we reach the bottom of the stairs does he pause again, looking thoughtful. “It’s almost a shame I’ll have to return to the DataThrone after this.”
“Well, you could always prolong this vacation a little.”
Something tells me that’s not actually a novel idea. He was already toying with the thought of putting off the return to his chair, he just wanted some external validation of the idea before committing to it. If I’m the one he wants to provide that, I’m happy to oblige.
“You know, that’s not a bad idea,” he muses, scratching his hairless chin.
“I’m glad you’re rediscovering the joys of living like a human being, but can you focus up? We’re not even halfway done with my list.”
“Right, right. Sorry.”
As the four of us move through the first floor of Salzwedel’s home, we make over a dozen scheduled stops, and nearly half as many unscheduled ones. I end up having to caution Saffi against opening up a case containing one of the original Apples of Discord, a series of art pieces that possessed a powerful memetic effect that caused anyone exposed directly to them to desire the Apples more than anything in the world. Several minor wars were launched over them as a result, which the artist later claimed was all a part of the exhibition. Most of them were believed to have been lost, and all the others are supposedly accounted for in high-security vaults or museums, so seeing one here, out in the open, was a surprise. It’s possible this is a fake, but I’d rather not take the chance.
The Apple is pretty much the only thing not nailed down that we don’t take, though. By the time we get to the sub-level, the sack is looking pretty heavy. Niko hasn’t given any indication that it’s bothering him, though. He’s made the fewest unscheduled stops of any of us- I think he just wants to get on with it. The prospect of reclaiming his Regalia isn’t just about obtaining a powerful weapon, it’s also about redeeming his line, erasing the disgrace of being the only Noble lineage that actually sold off its own Regalia. Having the Betrayer in my line’s past, I can certainly understand the impulse, though expunging my line’s past sins will be a lot harder than it will be for him.
Since Salzwedel’s home is built into the side of the mountain, it doesn’t really have a proper basement so much as a smaller, semi-secret lowest floor, accessible only through a high-security door that operates off of a different system than the rest of the house. So we’re not gonna be able to waltz through like we have with every other security countermeasure up to this point.
Pulling a device that resembles a jeweler’s loupe from the duffel bag, the Recluse begins examining the door, searching for the hidden control panel that will allow him to bypass it. Sighing in relief, Niko puts down the sack of loot and leans against the wall to catch his breath.
“How long’s this gonna take?” Saffi asks, eyeing the imposing titanium door, which doesn’t have any visible mechanisms for unlocking it the traditional way. Presumably it’s keyed only to open in Salzwedel’s presence, maybe using some kind of brainband authentication code, since DNA check, fingerprints, and retinal scans aren’t as secure as they once were.
“A while,” the Recluse shoots back, a little tersely.
“How ‘bout we go look for some more stuff to grab?” I offer to Saffi, who’s already looking bored. “He’s got a smoking room not too far from here, there’s bound to be some good stuff in there.”
“Sure, why not?”
Leaving the Recluse behind at the door, with Niko to keep an eye on him, we head down the hall towards the smoking room. Nobody’s huffing carcinogens these days, of course- though one of the things we grabbed on our way to the sub-level door was an antique cigar box. Instead, the smoking room is for imbibing mood-fluid, the safe, legal drug of choice for most of the Imperium. I wouldn’t be shocked if Salzwedel partakes in other, more proscribed substances, maybe even in this room, but he’s smart enough not to leave any evidence of that lying around.
Unlike the rest of the house, which is sleek, white, and modern, the smoking room is clearly designed to evoke something more nostalgic. Wood paneling on the walls, plus red leather sofas and armchairs, and a large waterpipe in the middle of the room, with several tanks of mood-fluid attached, and half a dozen different smoking tubes that guests can smoke the vaporized fluid out of. A very old mechanism for communal consumption of mind-altering substances, with a few modern modifications, mainly granting it more capacity, and making it less of an ideal vector for the spread of disease.
Obviously, we’re not going to take the waterpipe, though it could probably fetch a few hundred credits thanks to its gold filigree. The real prize here is what’s on the walls. Mounted above the fireplace like a hunting trophy is a helm, the same basic model as any other you’d have seen on a battlefield in the War of Conquest, but with a few notable modifications. For one, it’s been painted onyx-black, matching the reflective lenses. For another, a pair of boar-like tusks have been grafted onto it. They’re jagged, with spikes protruding out from across the length of the tusks, still looking sharp enough to cut me open, even hundreds of years after they were torn from the jaw of some unfortunate creature on a far-off world.
While Saffi sets to work liberating the other items hung up around the room, from necklaces to bangles, broaches, and other kinds of jewelry, I pry the helmet loose, careful not to let the tusks carve my arms up. Thankfully, the SecuriCorp uniform I’m wearing is durable enough to give me some protection when I scrape against them. Eventually, I manage to dislodge it, and turn to Saffi, triumphant.
“Looks cool,” she tells me, with an armful of expensive accessories. “You sure it’s gonna fit in the bag?”
“It better. This thing’s gonna go for a shitload. Supposedly the Apocalypse Knight wore it into battle on Elet IX.”
Saffi makes an unimpressed noise. Founder artifacts are incredibly valuable and highly coveted, but to someone from the streets of Limbo City, they probably don’t hold very much significance.
“Well, if not, we could always make the pup wear it.”
The two of us share a chuckle over that mental image. Unfortunately, it’s not a real option, since we’d have to drill two holes in the helmet to accommodate Niko’s horns, which would tank its value. It would probably look pretty good on me, though.
Between the helmet and what Saffi’s got in her arms, we’re more than in the clear for our debts to the Syndicate, which takes a load off my mind. It’ll probably take Mother’s people a while to fence all of this stuff, even in Limbo City, where you can find a buyer for just about anything you might want to sell. But so long as the street value is roughly equivalent with what we borrowed from her, it should be okay.
The alternative doesn’t really bear thinking about. I don’t need anybody else sending assassins after me. Though on the other hand, the Syndicate- while powerful within its sphere of influence -doesn’t really have the pull to get people inside the Citadel. That doesn’t mean we’re free to just keep all the loot for ourselves, though. Me and Niko being safe only means she’d take her anger out on Saffi, Tommy, and our families. So either we pay her back in full… or we find some way of dealing with her.
When we’re about halfway down the hall back to where Niko and the Recluse are waiting, Saffi puts a hand on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks. Surprised, I look back at her with an eyebrow raised.
“What’s up?”
“Niko… be good to him, okay? He deserves better than just being treated like a useful tool.”
“I don’t—”
“I know. Not saying you do. But you gotta watch out for him. That’s how he’s used to living. Wouldn’t take too much for him to fall back into the same routine.”
Quiet for a moment, I consider what she’s saying. My first instinct is to reject the idea more firmly, because I’ve made him an officer, put him in a decision-making role. But an officer is still just a soldier at the end of the day. I’m the one deciding our course, he just offers advice for how best to get to the destination I choose. And to a certain point, that’s the system working as intended. Militaries aren’t democracies for the same reason the Imperium isn’t- it’s inefficient. Even within my own War Council, if we all had to vote on everything we did, it would cost us far too much time.
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“Understood. I’ll keep an eye on him.” I pause, studying her face. “Is there anybody who’s gonna be keeping an eye on you?”
Saffi smirks.
“C’mon, Condor. You really think I need someone babysitting me?”
The words are spoken with the same effortless confidence as she says anything else, but it feels like there’s something underneath, just barely detectable. Maybe a touch of sadness. I can’t dwell on that now, though.
“Heh. Dumb question, I guess.” I tilt my head back in the direction of the others. “C’mon, let’s not keep them waiting any longer.”
----------------------------------------
By the time we get back to the sub-level door, the Recluse has nearly gotten it open. By the way he’s sweating, it’s clearly taking some effort, though likely more of the mental kind than the physical. On the other hand, Niko looks as bored now as he was when we left him, distracting himself by staring at his palm-screen.
“What, are you taking bets on whether we’ll pull this off?” I ask with a chuckle.
“He’s still doing that?” Saffi scoffs. “Unbelievable. And here I thought you wanted to rescue your line’s reputation.”
Niko closes his fist, and the palm-screen disappears.
“It’s hardly my fault that I’m surrounded by easy marks.”
While the three of us share a chuckle at that, he hoists the loot bag back up over his shoulder, after allowing Saffi and I to deposit our most recent acquisitions inside. Fortunately, the helmet fits, and the material is durable enough that I’m not too worried about the tusks slicing it up from the inside.
“…got it,” the Recluse wheezes, before lowering himself to the floor, breathing heavily. Whatever he was doing didn’t look that strenuous to me, since he just seemed to be tinkering with a control panel set into the wall, like before, but apparently unlocking this one door was significantly harder than suppressing the entire house’s security system.
I don’t doubt that what he just accomplished was impressive, but something tells me his exhaustion is more a result of having spent ‘too long’ on a life-support system designed to ensure he never had to get up out of a chair. Even in a fresh, fit body, this kind of exertion seems to have taken more of a toll than it otherwise might have.
“You good?” Saffi asks, not looking especially concerned.
“I’ll be okay,” he breathes. The contrast between his hulking frame and how much the task of unlocking a door has taken out of him is pretty funny, the more I think about it- though thankfully, I manage not to let my amusement show. We do still need him, for the time being.
“Great. How ‘bout we keep moving, then?”
Without waiting for a response, she heads through the doorway and down the stairs, Niko following close behind. I hang back for a second, and offer the Recluse my hand, helping him to his feet. Thankfully, I’m wearing gloves, else I wouldn’t have risked touching his sweat-slick palm.
“Guessing you didn’t do much field work even before you got in that chair?” I ask, with what I hope is a sympathetic smile.
“Not exactly, no,” he laughs. “Usually I’d just disable security from an external control panel, then leave the rest to everybody else. Don’t worry, though- it’s all coming back to me.”
Again, it feels more like he’s trying to convince himself than me, but I don’t argue, just clap him on the back and follow the others down to the sub-level.
It’s only a short flight of stairs down, and the door we’re met with at the bottom opens silently without a hint of resistance. Another layer of security on top of what we’ve already gotten past would have been excessive, I suppose.
While Salzwedel keeps plenty of items on display all over the house, they’re all just decorations. This room, on the other hand, seems to be entirely dedicated to his collection. The eastern and western walls are dominated completely by massive glass cases containing dozens of different items, mostly antique weapons from various different eras, while the room itself is replete with trophy cases arranged in a grid, containing everything from a clockwork model of the Sol System, to a human head preserved in amber.
“These are all on a separate alarm system,” the Recluse warns us, as Saffi approaches one of the cases. “Best not to risk opening any of them up until we retrieve the primary objective.”
“What he said. Now, let’s see if we can figure out where it’s hidden.”
Our spy-fly drone wasn’t able to get past the door to this sub-level, so we’re flying blind now. I assumed the Regalia would be down here because it’s the most secure place in the house, but it’s possible all that security is just misdirection. If I was Salzwedel, I wouldn’t keep it behind a maximum-security door, I’d keep it under my bed, or in a hidden compartment under the garbage disposal- the last place anybody would think to look. Then again, that might be a little too clever for him.
Opening up the bag, I pull out one of the bulkier items we brought along- a deep-surface scanner. It resembles a large tablet with a screen on one side, and handles on either end so it can be pressed up to any surface. The sensors on the other side are powerful enough to penetrate thirty feet of solid concrete. If this thing can’t pick up wherever the Regalia is hiding, it’s probably not down here.
While the other three survey the room with just their eyes, I start looking in the most obvious place- on the far wall, which is suspiciously devoid of any trophies or collector’s items whatsoever. It might be the single largest empty surface in the entire house, come to think of it. But after slowly moving the scanner across the entire length of the wall, and getting Niko to give me a boost so I could scan the top half, nothing shows up. The display stays static, showing nothing beyond the wall except more concrete.
“Nothing?” Saffi asks from across the room, glancing briefly our way before turning back to the item which has her transfixed, a golden, mechanical insect of some kind that seems to have been put on alert by her interest, crawling around on the inside of its case excitedly.
“Nope,” I reply, annoyed. “Rec, is there any way this wall could be, like, shielded or something? Cuz I’ve got no idea why he’d leave it totally empty like this if there’s not a big hidden room behind it or something.”
“I can take a look,” he says, in a tone that suggests to me he doesn’t expect to find anything.
“Good. I’ll check out the other walls.”
Hopping down from Niko’s shoulders, I pause momentarily to catch my breath, then head over to the eastern wall, starting my examination from the bottom. As I bring the scanner across the glass case, I pass by dozens of different artifacts, a few of which I recognize, and one or two of which might well be worth the combined value of everything we’ve tossed in our loot bag so far.
There’s a set of knives that were supposedly used by the Rogue, an infamous Noble thief. One of the original prosthetic eyes worn by Sa’adah El-Amin, the Founder of Bret’s line. The Equinox Diadem, a symbol of office worn by the kings and queens of the Trent Dynasty, a monarchy from the Warlord Era that peacefully surrendered to the Imperium. What there isn’t, however, is a hidden compartment behind the wall. I scan every inch of the case, increasingly frustrated, but the results never change.
Turning away, I look to the Recluse, hoping he’s turned up something that I missed on the other wall, but he just shakes his head, looking concerned. Hissing under my breath, I march over to the west-side wall, passing by a case containing the hand of a bronze statue, clutching a massive, fieldball-sized pearl, so large it could only have formed in the oceanic depths of Abyssia.
The other wall has its own share of treasures too. Less Noble memorabilia, more historical Earth artifacts, like a huge, golden crucifix inset with gemstones- an ironic symbol for a church that preached the divestment of physical possessions. But then again, the phrase ‘hypocritical church’ is a redundant one. Besides that, there’s an antique rifle, so old that parts of it seem to have actually been made from wood. It’s difficult to imagine wielding a weapon made from such flimsy materials, like trying to duel using a sword made of bamboo.
Again, I find no sign of anything hidden beneath the surface. This time, my scan is so meticulous that when I turn around, I find Saffi sitting on the ground, arms wrapped around her knees, looking unimaginably bored.
“...seems like it’s not here,” I report quietly. “We should probably go back up and search the rest of the place, but if you guys wanna take five and--”
“I have an idea,” Niko says abruptly. Instead of elaborating, he just holds his hand out, and I pass the deep-surface scanner to him, leaning against the wall to watch what he does next.
To my surprise, he gets down on his hands and knees, pressing the scanner to the floor, and begins to move between the cases, scanning the ground beneath us. His route is less careful and meticulous than mine, but it becomes clear why he’s not taking as much care moments later, when he reaches the very center of the room.
Niko stops in between four cases. One contains an intricate, filigreed golden compass. The next holds a model pirate ship. Number three, a severed human hand with a spiral pattern scarred into its palm. And the fourth, a spear-tip broken off from the shaft. On the ground between all four, the scanner lights up green. He’s got a hit.
“Right under our fucking feet,” I whisper, equal parts incensed and impressed.
“Okay, we know where it is,” Niko announces. “Now we need to know how to access it.”
Clearing his throat, the Recluse speaks up.
“I already scanned for a control panel, but there doesn’t seem to be one down here. Whatever mechanism will open the compartment up, it’s most likely analog.”
In other words, he’s suddenly become useless. I resist the urge to say that aloud, mainly because I have a feeling we’re still going to need him for when we’ve gotten the Regalia out of its hiding spot.
Approaching the spot Niko identified, I examine the cases surrounding it, starting with the compass. The stand it’s on has it propped up at a slight angle, and the needle is pointing straight south. Curious, I close my eyes and access the brainband, searching for this planet’s magnetic north. Turning in that direction, I glance back at the compass, and discover that the needle is pointing in the wrong direction. More than a little eyebrow-raising.
Wary of setting off any alarms, I gingerly press my palms to the sides of the case, and apply as little pressure as possible, hoping to test a theory. As I suspected, the case begins to turn, rotating until the compass inside is facing a different direction. Once it’s aligned with the rest of the cases once again, the needle shifts over to east instantly, without having so much as twitched until the case stopped moving.
By now, Niko’s noticed what I’m up to, and he approaches, peering over my shoulder.
“Curious. Do you think--”
“Yeah, I do. Gimme a hand here.”
Together, we turn the case one more rotation, until the compass, and the needle, are pointing ‘north.’ The direction still doesn’t align with the planet’s actual magnetic north, but that doesn’t matter- this compass isn’t measuring that. Instead, it seems to be a tool for determining whether the case is aligned in the correct direction for unlocking the compartment beneath.
Once the case is turned the right way, we step back, waiting for something to happen. Unfortunately, nothing does. Not even a slight rumble to let us know we’re on the right track. I frown, immediately annoyed once more.
“Saf-- uh, Mockingbird, mind checking to see if any of these other cases rotate?” Niko asks.
“Sure,” she replies, and gets up, walking over to the nearest case to try turning it. This one doesn’t budge.
“Huh. So is it just this one, or...?”
I shake my head, and turn to the next case, containing the model ship, which has a unicorn figurehead at the bow. Another quick test reveals that this case, too, can turn. Swiftly, I set to work rotating it so the unicorn’s horn faces ‘north,’ same as the compass needle.
Immediately, Niko catches on, and walks over to the spear-tip, which is held up horizontally on a stand, rotating its case to match the others. Finally, we work together to turn the case containing the hand, so its palm faces north as well.
When the last case clicks into place, there’s a loud pneumatic hiss. Then the floor begins to move beneath us. We both jump to opposite sides of the rapidly-opening gap, watching as the four cases each recede to create space for a fifth, larger case in between all of them.
To nobody’s surprise, the item within the hidden case is none other than the Hurricane Howl. It looks exactly the same as the replica I displayed yesterday during our planning session inside the brainband. That’s no surprise either. Besides their unique traits, the Regalia all share something unique- they exist in fixed quantum states, impossible to permanently damage or destroy.
Saffi and the Recluse join Niko and I around the case, examining the weapon closely. Both of them wear expressions of undisguised fascination as they stare at the ‘magazines,’ each containing miniature storms that have been swirling for centuries, maintained by technology that can no longer be replicated. Each of the Regalia weapons is an irreproducible technological miracle in its own right. Niko’s expression, however, is unreadable. He turns to the Recluse.
“Get it open.”
“I’ll need a minute to study the alarm system in here,” he protests.
“Why weren’t you doing that already? We spent the better part of an hour searching this room, what were you doing? Sitting on your ass?”
“Well, I, uh--”
“Forget it. Just get to work.”
Looking flustered, the Recluse retrieves his tools from the bag and kneels down, examining the pedestal that the case rests atop, searching for some mechanism that could be used to unlock it without setting off any alarms.
While he does that, Niko begins to pace around the case, eyes never wandering from his Regalia for more than a second. The only other times I’ve seen him with such intense focus are in the middle of a fight, and even then, only when there’s live ammunition involved. Even Saffi seems slightly disconcerted by how he’s behaving.
Suddenly consumed by the same nervous energy, I set to work packing the duffel bag back up, stowing the deep-surface scanner and the rest of our instruments, save for that which the Recluse is actively using. Once we’ve got the gun, this should be as simple as heading straight back to the teleportal hub, using the Citadel codes that Sofie provided this morning- courtesy of Professor Kore -and going home. Saffi and the Recluse will wait for us to leave, then take the loot bag and return to Limbo City, so the Syndicate can get their cut. All very neat and tidy.
“It’s done,” the Recluse says after several minutes, sounding more frustrated than tired this time. Apparently a little bit of pressure was all we needed to get real results out of him. In a different version of the plan, this would be where one of us shot him in the back so we could all get a bigger cut of the loot, but that doesn’t really apply in this case. Still, he’s no longer particularly useful to us, so I can stop walking on eggshells around him.
“Finally,” Niko replies, as the glass case retracts into the pedestal, leaving the Regalia exposed to the air, resting on its stand. Gingerly, as though afraid it’ll shatter when touched, he puts his hands on the weapon, and slowly lifts it.
As Niko wraps his hand around the weapon’s grip, placing the other underneath the barrel to support its weight, we all take a step back. Not because I particularly expect he’s about to start shooting, but just as an instinctual response to anybody holding a weapon like that in the firing position.
After a moment, the weapon emits a soft hum, and a series of blue lines tracing the length of the barrel light up. An androgynous digital voice emanates from the weapon, not aloud, but speaking through the brainband.
New user detected. Authenticating Noble lineage...
A pause. We all draw breath, save for Niko, whose eyes are closed, expression unreadable once more.
Authenticated. Welcome, Stormwolf.
The three of us sigh, relieved, and he opens his eyes, smiling.
“Okay. Let’s get out of here.”
Saffi grabs the loot bag, struggling slightly with its weight before the Recluse offers to take it off her hands, passing her the duffel containing our gear instead. Part of me feels guilty for not carrying anything, but it’s hardly my fault that we packed light.
Niko at the head of the group, we exit the trophy room and ascend the stairs. The door seems to have closed automatically behind us, but it opens back up as we approach.
Waiting outside the door to greet us is none other than Anselm Salzwedel.
To be more precise, it’s a holographic avatar of Salzwedel, filtered slightly to let us know he’s not here in person. The trillionaire is on the older side, with graying hair and gaunt features, though he wears a smug expression as he greets us.
“I hope you didn’t think it was going to be that easy.”