The smell of breakfast food and the sounds of someone shuffling in the kitchen filtered into Val’s consciousness, slowly bringing her out of her slumber. Her eyes fluttered open and she propped herself up on one arm to look around the living room. There was a moment of cognitive dissonance as she tried to reconcile the familiar setting from her childhood with the fact that she hadn’t been back here for at least three years. The room seemed like a time capsule as Zyra clearly left almost everything untouched.

Val groaned as she sat up, placing both feet solidly on the ground and resting her hands on her knees. One look down reminded her that she was still in the exosuit from Noir’s safehouse, although her helmet lay on the nearby coffee table.

Oops, forgot to get out of this last night. I must have just passed out from exhaustion.

Val looked down at the couch beneath her and winced as she saw blood and dirt smeared across the fabric from her armor. Several nano-based cleaners would be able to get those stains out easily, but it was still a hassle and something about making a mess in her family home made her cringe internally. She half-expected her father to come around the corner at any moment and berate her for ruining the couch, but the doorway into the hallway remained empty.

And he never will again.

The slight smile on Val’s face faded, settling into a neutral mask. The happier memories of childhood evaporated as quickly as her good mood, leaving Val with only a bitter reminder of the falling out she had with Zyra after her parent’s death. Val had successfully avoided her aunt for years afterwards, but apparently her isolationist policy was coming to an end. Noir had been right yesterday – Val needed allies, and as the Messenger Guildmaster and member of the Council, Zyra was too valuable to ignore. She had pushed off the attempt to talk last night by immediately falling asleep, but there were no more excuses this morning.

With a sigh, Val pushed herself to her feet and stepped towards the hallway. As an afterthought, she turned and picked up her helmet from the table. Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it, I suppose. It would be foolish for someone to attack the residence of a Council member in the heart of Peakpoint, but then again, she had thought the same about a midday abduction carried out by a direwolf and that had clearly not worked out in her favor.

Following her nose, Val walked down the hallway and turned into the kitchen. She was not surprised to see Zyra standing at the kitchen table, but was mildly surprised to find heaping plates of food already prepared.

“I didn’t know you finally picked up cooking,” Val said as she scanned the rest of the room. She frowned as her gaze fell on the dusty cooktop and empty sink before looking back up at Zyra questioningly. The wry smile she got in response told Val everything she needed to know even before Zyra answered verbally.

“I still haven’t. I got this delivered from one of the markets several radials over. I figured you’d be hungry and didn’t want to subject you to… whatever happens when I ‘cook’ food,” Zyra said, making air quotes with one hand as she finished setting some utensils down on the table.

“I’d have thought that years by yourself would have forced you to get at least a little better,” Val said, internally wincing at her wording. She was used to giving Fynn a hard time and just letting her thoughts travel from her brain to her mouth with little to no filtering. From the mild break in Zyra’s expression, that might not be the best approach to take while trying to repair her relationship with her estranged aunt.

“Sorry, that was–”

“No, it’s ok,” said Zyra, forcing a smile back onto her face. “Truth be told, I spend very little time here nowadays. As I’m sure you can imagine, it’s a little unpleasant by myself. Too many reminders of Estra.”

Hearing her mother’s nickname caught Val off-guard. She took a moment in silence to collect her thoughts again. On the surface, Zyra seemed innocent enough. Simply a woman still mourning the loss of her sister and brother-in-law, trying to reconnect with her niece. But Val knew better than to underestimate Zyra. The quiet, unassuming woman was a master of her craft, and few knew that better than Val.

The Messenger Guild had a very innocuous public reputation, serving as couriers for important information between the cities on the two continents. Less glorious than the Scouts and Mercenaries, who also braved the wilderness. Less critical to the day-to-day operation of cities like the Merchants and Guardians. Not advancing technology like the Technicians and Engineers. Even worse, Messengers weren’t even that useful within each city as the Daemons provided a secure, high-speed data network that was used for both personal and official communications.

However, the Messengers filled a necessary but underappreciated niche in society, keeping the lines of communication open between cities. Most long-range communication technologies couldn’t cut through the interference caused by the high amounts of ambient nano. As a result, modern society fell back to the age-old solution when technology fails: pay someone enough to just do it manually. Messengers traveled in small groups, designed to move through the wilderness light and fast. They were almost all Users, paired with Daemons that specialized in stealth and speed subroutines to avoid most forms of conflict.

In reality, though, Messengers were more important than many gave them credit for. The data they delivered was important, but how they delivered it was just as important. Few people realized that they also served as de facto diplomats, with the most senior Messengers getting direct access to Council members in multiple cities. An even more restricted set of people realized that this meant that Messengers were perfectly placed to serve a more insidious, private role as spies. By extension, that also made the Messenger Guildmaster the clear candidate for spymaster.

This was undoubtedly the reason that the Peakpoint Council had immediately cut ties with Alestranda when she was killed in dubious circumstances. A mission important enough to be handled personally by the most powerful spymaster on the eastern continent, suddenly going belly up with public accusations of Val’s mother becoming a traitor. The Council had no choice but to distance themselves.

Logically, Val knew that Zyra, as the successor to the position of Peakpoint’s Messenger Guildmaster (and spymaster), had no choice to denounce Alestranda either. But it had felt like a personal betrayal to Val, especially when the rest of the rank and file Messengers fell in line and ostracized her. And standing there in that kitchen with Zyra again, rehashing the same old unsatisfactory logic in her head again, Val felt her anger rising back up to the surface again.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“You don’t get to stand there and complain about how much you miss my mom,” Val hissed through clenched teeth. “You know what, I was a fool for hoping that we could maybe reconcile. It’s clear you haven’t changed. Work still comes before family. I’ve had it up to here” – as Val gestured with a hand up to her forehead – “with not getting told important shit by the Council. Excuse me if I don’t want to get fed bullshit over breakfast too.”

Val turned on her heel angrily and started storming for the front door, but an iron grip settled around her wrist and kept her in place. She glanced back in surprise to see Zyra’s hand on her exosuit, breaking her deja vu surrounding the moment. The last time she had yelled angrily in this kitchen about Zyra abandoning her family, Zyra hadn’t stopped her from walking out.

“Wait! Just… wait, Valriya,” Zyra said as Val half-heartedly tried to free her arm, but Zyra didn’t let her go. Val’s eyes widened slightly as the outer layer of her exosuit started creaking from the strain as Zyra’s nano-enhanced grip strength tightened around her arm. Val stopped struggling, more shocked at Zyra’s lapse in restraint than her strength.

“I’m sorry for bringing Estra – Alestranda, I mean – up. I didn’t mean to upset you. And I won’t talk to you about that.” A flash of emotion passed over Zyra’s face for a moment, but was gone the next second as she let go of Val’s arm. “But I was serious about having some things to tell you. You’ll probably find out later anyways, but I want you to hear it from me. I regret how I failed to communicate things to you… last time, and I’m trying to fix that. Please, stay for breakfast and give me a chance here.”

Val let her freed arm fall to her side, slowly clenching her fist to ensure the armor still worked. She almost continued out the door, but something in Zyra’s tone gave her pause. I feel like I’m missing something here. She turned back to her aunt, searching Zyra’s face for any hints or clues, but the older woman’s expression was guarded and neutral.

Facial microexpression analysis indicates she placed intentional emphasis on the word “won’t” in her previous statement. Language is an important tool for Messengers. They are often trained to say “won’t” instead of “can’t” during negotiations, since “won’t” indicates a preference while “can’t” usually implies a hard limitation.

Val waited for Noir to continue, prodding them for more when they remained silent. What’s the significance of that?

It’s likely that Zyra actually intended to say “can’t” in this case – that she actually can’t talk to you about the circumstances surrounding your mom’s death. My conjecture is that she’s been given a gag order and is unwilling to break it, even for you. But given that she’s trying to share some information with you now… Either this batch of information is less closely guarded, she’s found some loophole to share it with you, or there is no loophole but she’s taking the risk to share it regardless.

Hmmm. Well, that would certainly go a long way towards earning my trust back.

There’s also always the option that this is what she wants you to think, and she’s really planning to betray you for real in the near future.

Thanks for the cheerful thoughts, Noir.

No problem. Being paranoid is a favorite pastime of mine, after all. I’ve got centuries of practice. You’ll get there one day too.

Val spent several seconds trying to work through all the possibilities, but eventually gave up. She didn’t have enough information or experience to know what Zyra wanted, and the only way to get more of either of those was to play along now. Val continued to stare at Zyra, who met her gaze unflinchingly. The rational part of Val’s brain knew that more was going on behind the scenes, but it was still so hard to give Zyra the benefit of the doubt.

Val struggled for a long moment before exhaling in a heavy sigh. Her stomach chose that exact moment to rumble loudly, causing Val to give a dry chuckle.

“Alright, my body has spoken. I’ll stay for breakfast,” she said, taking a step back towards the table. “I’ll listen to whatever you have to say. But if I get the feeling that you aren’t being straight with me, I’m out that door and not giving you any more chances.”

Zyra’s eyebrows raised in surprise, clearly not expecting Val to acquiesce, but she quickly recovered.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Zyra said. A genuine warm smile spread across her face, immediately making Val feel guilty for suspecting her of anything malicious.

Unless that’s exactly what she wants me to think? Uhh, this paranoia thing is exhausting, Noir.

I’m proud of you. Despite your lack of any real skills and terrible sense of humor, I’m glad you are a quick study at least. Increases your life expectancy slightly.

What have I told you about backhanded compliments, Noir?

That they’re better than nothing?

Val’s brow furrowed. That’s… probably technically true, but also missing my main point. I’ve heard genuine positive reinforcement is a great educational and trust-building tool. And much less annoying.

Technically true is the best kind of true. In fact, the best lies are also technically true.

Ugh, it’s too early in the morning for this sort of philosophy.

Au contraire, my naive User. It’s never too early for valuable lessons that might save your life one day. Also, you better wake up quickly. I have a feeling whatever Zyra says over breakfast is going to be riddled with lies disguised as the truth. I expect nothing else from a spy, and apparently she’s one of the best.

Val nodded glumly; as usual, the Daemon had a point. She turned her attention back to the external world just in time to realize that she missed something Zyra had said.

“I’m sorry, what was that? I… got lost in thought,” Val said. She almost said she was talking with Noir, but remembered that most Users did not have as strong of a mental connection with their Daemons just one week in.

Does that count as a technically true lie?

Good enough, one point for Val.

“I said, I got some of that maple-infused bacon you used to love,” said Zyra.

“Where?!”

Val pushed past Zyra and rushed over to the dining table. Sure enough, a plate full of the gloriously decadent strips lay in the center of the table, surrounded by a veritable mountain of eggs, potatoes, and some fresh fruit. She snatched one from the plate and tore into it ravenously, eyes closed as she savored the taste.

“If I knew how excited you’d be for those, I’d have started with that,” Zyra said, an amused expression on her face. She walked around Val and took a seat at the table. Val’s face flushed as she sat down across from Zyra, finishing the bacon strip before starting to pile the plate before her with food.

And… minus one point for giving away an obvious weakness.

Hush you. You don’t have the taste buds to understand how good this is. And this is even the high quality stuff!

Minus one point for being distracted by the obvious bribe. Pay attention.

Val swallowed her mouthful and focused on her aunt across the table.

“Alright, you’ve got your family breakfast. What did you want to tell me?” Val asked.

“Straight to business, I see. Well, alright then,” Zyra said. She leaned forward slightly, piercing Val with an intense gaze.

“What have you heard about the Unshackled?”