Burglars know there is more than one way to skin a vault.

Pre-Fall outlaw.

“My name is Katia Michaelson, and I am the Undersecretary of Internal Affairs for the State of Independence,” the woman said.

Seeing Johanna’s look of incomprehension, she elaborated.

“The head counter-intelligence and head cop of the state,” she stated before adding, “and I think I need a bit more about what just happened.”

Johanna turned toward Flores inquiringly.

“That sounds correct, Mrs. Milton, all right. Never met anyone from Vernon, but it is known that Mrs. Michaelson is the head of Internal Affairs.”

“And I have the original of your latest report here, in case you’re doubting my credentials. God knows I’ve re-read all of these on the way.”

“You work for her?” Johanna asked the captain.

The man straightened himself.

“I report anything significant to the State. But the Captain of the Guard is under the Council’s exclusive orders.”

The use of the third person to refer to himself felt bizarre, but she let it pass. She turned back to the woman instead and sighed.

“We got attacked by people working for Agnello. Adjutant Agnello, that is.”

“The official emissary from the Montana.”

“Himself, the right hand of the Warden. And they were empowered somehow. That doesn’t make sense. Moore wouldn’t help them, would he?”

“Moore?”

“It’s… the Ancient.”

She sighed again, realizing.

“It’s going to be a long story.”

“I just arrived, and I have time. I think I already know parts of it, although most of it was only recently. That Ancient you speak of is the thing you found in Montana?”

Johanna briefly wondered how the Michaelson woman knew of this before she realized that, as “counter-intelligence” implied, she’d have extensive knowledge of various events, probably including some of their stories, as she’d just claimed.

“It started back in the Montana, where we were scavengers in the ruins there, not too far from Valetta…” she began explaining.

She was getting around to how they had started recruiting scavengers for the East Coast expedition when they reached the Talent House. As soon as they crossed the corner and she saw the street leading to the walls and passing their headquarters, Johanna broke into a run, startling the undersecretary.

The building itself seemed untouched, but there was a bit of smoke coming out from the first floor. Johanna ran, saw the door wide open, and spotted a pair of people sprawled under the porch with red-stained bandages on one. She recognized Norton Wooley, the level 9 receptionist, almost immediately.

“What the?”

Laura blinked almost automatically next to their employee. The one helping him yelled, and she soothed them, checking the wound.

There were traces of some kind of scuffle in the foyer, but she rushed upstairs. Once she arrived, she found what she dreaded. The doors to the storage had been forced open. Some of the smoke she’d spotted outside was pouring out, although not too much of it. The building they’d picked for the core of the Talent House was sturdy and unlikely to catch fire easily, something important when you dealt with Fire sorceresses being around and even sleeping on top. One of the guards – the Explorer – they had recruited for the headquarters was lying there, apparently wounded or worse.

“He’s been knocked out,” a man told her from behind her.

She turned, startled, and found the man who had been helping the wounded at the entrance had followed her. She realized she’d seen that man before, one of the salvagers that had come to inquire at the Talent House, and been told they still had not finalized the process of allowing people in. Presumably, he’d been back to check for news and discovered the aftermath.

“Still breathing, they’re going to move him as soon as they get help. I warned the city guard,” he added.

She turned back to the door and went in, fanning herself. She might be immune to most fires, and breathe easy in the middle of smoke, but she couldn’t see through it. Plus, it stang at the eyes. The storage room was pretty much what she had expected, or rather, did not. Crates were broken up, the shelves where they’d sorted the parchments in alphabetical order were bare, one broken, and in a corner, the stacks of books they’d kept as a last resort spare material were smoldering, with a few flames coming out, but less than what she would have expected from burning books.

“What’s going on,” Michaelson’s voice came from behind.

“They took the stock,” she replied dully.

“The stock?”

“Of parchments. The parchments of power I was telling you about. They knew what they were after.”

The woman was holding her clothes in front of her mouth as Johanna was batting the burning books. She might be immune to fire, but that didn’t make her able to extinguish it at will. A Water Shaper with some ice aspects would have been better at that.

“So, you were not the only target?” Katia Michaelson muttered through her woolen cover.

“Obviously not. We had a vault that should even have been mostly resistant to burglary, but not this extreme version.”

“We found a couple of those in Nashville, I think. Stiff paper with strange glowing words?”

“You found some in… Gomez? What happened? Is he alright?”

“No idea. Professor Gomez, if that’s who you are asking for… he’s vanished, and both home and the academy he was teaching at got robbed, although the robbers missed a couple of those weird paper squares. The parchments you spoke of.”

Johanna immediately realized what that meant and had been bothering her.

“That’s how they were empowered. They got the copies he had for his analysis. And the Gomez Guide. Enough data to set up some sort of basic teams.”

Seeing Michaelson’s raised eyebrow, she quickly explained as the head of Internal Affairs tried to digest the news.

“So, they had enough to turn thirty or forty people into ultra-powered Talented individuals like you?” Katia realized.

“Not as strong, but still. Gomez had about one copy of each low-level Talent and specialization and a few duplicates he thought he might need to compare between people. Not everything, but maybe a hundred thirty Talents parchments total? More in terms of levels or qualities… pre-requisite to acquire Talents,” she explained immediately.

“And you had a lot more here.”

“Almost 90,000 separate individual Talents.”

Katia Michaelson blanched.

The under-secretary set up her underlings to check everything and commandeered one of the ground floor meeting rooms, dragging in Johanna for a lengthy discussion.

“I assumed – correctly, it turns out – that you’d be the four Talented the Warden was chasing. We had conflicting reports, something about taking refuge with scavengers in Apache State. Then we had reports from Flores and knew better.”

Johanna remembered the two defectors they’d met in the Rocastle demesnes.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“We knew some people there, true. But by then, we’d discovered that we could make parchments of power. And more importantly, I got a quest.”

“A what?” Katia asked, surprised.

“Some kind of. You see, the Ancient can call us – at least me – into some kind of dreamscape where we can talk. He told me of the existence of the Library of Congress, an enormous trove of Ancient books that he could convert into parchments. That’s the expedition I was telling you about when we arrived here.”

“I got the reports from Captain Flores about that. And now, you’ve lost the fruits of that one.”

“I don’t know how Agnello could even guess.”

“He was watching Gomez. Gomez is one of the foremost experts – the only academic one, at least – on Talents. If you have an unusual problem with Talents, he’d be the one you consult with. I know he rebuffed an offer from the Montana last summer.”

“That’s when Ulrich – our accountant and organizer, a Wood Master – contacted him, I think.”

“If they were keeping track of him, then all you need is someone noticing something abnormal after he was back in Nashville, or maybe someone in the Academy itself, and you can figure out what’s up,” Katia said. “So, now, the Warden has all of your parchments.”

Johanna opened the desk and peered.

“Most. We still have those, I think.”

“What?” Michaelson asked.

“Stats grading sets,” she replied, pulling out the stack of parchments and startling the under-secretary.

“I recognize those. You have some left, you say?”

“Gomez designed those grading sets. It allows us to measure what you’re suitable for, and we didn’t have those locked in the main vault. Want to see how it works?”

Katia Michaelson

Level: ☒☒☒☒☒☐☐☐☐☐

☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐

Agility: ☒☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐

Empathy: ☒☒☒☐☐☐☐☐☐☐

Authority: ☒☒☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐

Perception: ☒☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐

Dexterity: ☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐

-1

Strength: ☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐

-1

Johanna remembered the way that description was for Moore. It was a lot more complete since Moore obviously had access to more information, notably experience amounts and costs. And Gomez had been right in a way; the “zero” of their scale was, indeed, apparently a 15.

The under-secretary looked at the small sheet of paper Johanna had filled and the stack of parchments she’d used to measure her qualities.

“I remember the one I showed Executive Wexler in Vernon, something with Level, Strength, and Disarm. I couldn’t light it up, but the Executive could.”

“I need to check, but I assume Disarm is a Strength-requiring Talent if you had a parchment with that combo and you have under minimal Strength. You couldn’t get the Talent there, just like none of those in the Strength stack, as you’ve seen.”

“So what does that mean?”

“Since Captain Flores tells me you’re currently Level 5, I’d need to check our lists, but I think you’re at least a Tyrant Fixer. Or rather, can be, with proper Talents,” Johanna told her.

“What is a Tyrant… Fixer? That sounds ominous and silly at the same time.”

“That’s a combination of Saint and Sorceress. You could have various health-related abilities, as well as some more exotic Talents, like… Detect Lies, for example.”

“Flores’s report mentioned that kind of thing used in your interviews. But now you say I can have that Talent?”

“If we had a parchment for it, yes. But it’s not part of the gauge set.”

“What could you do with that set?”

“Extremely basic builds. You’ve seen Fixer there; we have a low-level one for every specialization. And a few very simple Talents. Some are useful, some aren’t, I guess. We actually don’t know what a lot of the Talents do except by guessing from the names. Gomez was going to work on testing some while we did the same on our side.”

“Define basic build, please.”

“There’s nothing to increase your level or adjust your qualities. So, low power, one or two Talents. Which, actually, is what most Heroes and Sorceresses or Saints ‘naturally’ are. Few people have more than one Talent, and you used to call Archmages the Sorceresses with three.”

“Used to?”

“Well, when you routinely have people around with five, six, or even seven sorcery Talents, the old-style Archmage… feels more like a beginner sorcerer. By our guess, it should be trivial to have someone have three Talents by the age of 19-20 if you pick the right ones. More… well, potentially more if you train them against Changed beasts.”

She started to explain about experience. She had seen it increase from her point of view in the Realm of the Ancient as soon as Moore slaughtered one of the goons that had attacked and again when they turned tail and fled before she was back in her body. Which had confirmed what she’d guessed back during the expedition, prompted by the discussions with Gomez about the nature of what they’d called talent energy back then.

“Wait, so you’re telling me that soldiers could gain a lot of that experience thing? And it’s necessary to gain access to those Talents?”

“You gain it naturally, but apparently, fighting Changed beasts gives you more. And people as well.”

“So… if you take an entire veteran army and feed them those parchments, you could make very powerful Talented.”

“You could,” Johanna admitted as she realized whose army she was talking about.

“Wagons got spotted going out of New Sandusky”, one of Michaelson’s underlings reported. “Nicol is pursuing.”

“I hope he doesn’t do something too stupid. There must be at least some Talented with those wagons, even if the ones who ambushed the Miltons didn’t join them after running away. Someone had to break into this headquarters.

“Consider yourself drafted,” Katia finally said.

“I thought the draft did not exist in Independence,” Johanna protested.

“It does not. Consider yourself still drafted… Gaaaah,” the woman complained.

“What?”

“Most of what I could use as pressure is useless here. You’re one of the most powerful Sorceress in the entire State. You even have the direct protection of an Ancient, apparently. I can’t very well imprison you if you don’t cooperate.”

Johanna did not think Moore could manifest again, at least not immediately. The way experience had flown while she was in his place in the Realm of the Ancient suggested it was so costly that it could not be casually used and was a last resort, like when someone directly threatened them.

“You would need specially designed prisons for that. And Talented guards. A year ago, you might have held us if you really knew what was possible, but today, it’d be way harder. You need Talents to control Talents.”

“I’ve seen the disaster zone your fight left. I’m afraid you’re correct,” Katia replied before sinking back into her thoughts.

“Look, I can only commend you for your plans. Empowering hunting teams to control and cull the mana zones is a good goal. Even though Independence State is mostly zone-free – unless you want to consider the unclaimed East Coast Zone as one…” Katia said, stopping abruptly for some reason before she resumed, “it’s something the Executive can very well be behind.”

“We were starting to expand teams. Next year, we will have larger operations. I have one person already looking at establishing a local bureau in Cheat, for instance, and a contact in the Marches of the Dakota.”

Katia looked at her oddly.

“Really?”

“Cities on the border of the East Coast Zone are the ones who need it most. We went through Cheat…”

“I know that.”

“… and they can use a strong guard force. More than New Sandusky. The mana zones north of here are nothing compared to the East Coast.”

Somehow, Johanna was not surprised to find herself on a deserted city street under a starry night sky, yet it was lighted as if it were daytime. She looked and spotted four store windows that were entirely dark, with just a small border that glowed blue. There was nothing to see through, though, and she assumed it was their bedrooms behind the views. No light through their blinds.

She saw movement at the edge of her sight and turned, but, of course, it was just a skeleton wrapped in blue flame next to her. Just… Moore.

“I was thinking you didn’t have enough to talk.”

Talking is never easy, he said.

“I saw you expending… what is… experience?”

She realized it was a stupid question. Just like the names of the Talents, the naming somehow reflected the nature of the thing. It was just a name, and she could guess. Talent energy – the name Gomez had proposed – was probably better since it accurately reflected its nature, its origins, and use. But experience it was, at least for Moore.

It’s all there is. It’s all I have for you.

At least Moore answered in his own usual cryptic fashion. She wondered if that was a consequence of being there, in this liminal dream space between ordinary reality and the extreme scape where she was sure he normally resided. The old descriptions of the mana dream told her that people could go there somewhat. But if Moore wasn’t bringing her there, but in this dream instead, it must be because it was cheaper in terms of experience.

She’d increased abruptly in level, and she knew now exactly how much that had to have cost.

“At least I learned about you. Your name, for once. Douglas Moore.”

Before, I knew more than you did. Now, you too know more than you did.

She almost laughed. She realized that knowing just the name – the almost ordinary name – of the Ancient somehow humanized him. He was still an incredibly strange power, an Ancient manipulating Talent, but he was… someone.

Even if he was in a space that was not meant for humans. She wondered what happened back then during the Fall. He had to have been a human – the Ancients, for all their vaunted abilities, had been people. They were their ancestors, after all.

“And I should really thank you for intervening.”

Your strength must suffice. Mine will not.

“I saw the drain in experience. But thankfully, they were not good.”

You know what you are. They did not know what they were.

“That they didn’t. But I think they did not have much in the way of picks, too. Gomez had taken only a subset, enough for testing various things, not for dedicated builds.”

Moore was silent. Then he abruptly turned, brushing her with the extreme cold she remembered from her first visit. He’d used some form of cold presence, too, when he switched places, and she wondered if that was more than a simple preference in Talents.

She followed the skeleton into a store and was not surprised to see herself in a different place than what she expected. This time, she was in the Talent House’s main office, the one upstairs next to their bedrooms. There were only four seats around the table, and it held a stack of Ancient books rather than a map of sorts.

The skeleton stopped beside the table and raised a bony hand, placing his finger on the stack. The books folded and folded again, the stack shrinking until it held only a single parchment.

She peered at the top and saw, unsurprisingly this time, a rotating carousel of names she vaguely remembered instead of the incredibly advanced ones she’d seen back in Washington’s dream.

Arcane Ranger. Kinetics. Ricochet. Magebane Strike. Steady Shot…

Quality, not quantity, Moore told her.