Brenn shouldered his way through the door to the Lavender trading house. The Locket was simply their 'arm', and they had many of those. After the process of entering the compound being so hairy, he hadn't know what to expect. He and Micah were both panting after an unnecessarily long scuffle with the guards. A loud one, it was a wonder more hadn't come, but they wouldn't kill the men. Disabling them for the time being, mostly Micah knocking them unconscious while Brenn tossed them around like stuffed dolls.
Running up the stairs and bursting through the second door to the managers office, looking about with flat faces and squinted eyes.
“Uh... This isn't where I parked my carriage.” Micah mumbled nervously.
“And these are... Your associates, I presume? I thought I heard a commotion in the lower chambers but my men can be rowdy at times. Have you killed any?” A sharply dressed and neatly groomed nobleman sat with his legs crossed, a goblet of wine in one hand, and a pipe that stank of dreamleaf in the other. This, Brenn presumed, was the meister of this establishment, though he looked a little too gilded to occupy a petty regional office.
Which meant he might be someone even more important.
“We did not.” Brenn's reply was terse, realizing just how big of a mistake he'd made. Seated opposite the noble in posh, decorated chairs were the women, with Magnus cross legged in his magus meditations behind them. Fists pressed together and eyes closed despite the racket, ignoring all things around him. “I think we've made a terrible mistake, forgive me, I am--”
“Brennwulf, a knight and paladin of no surname, yes, yes. Mighty chosen of Vestia, here to clap me in chains and brand my posterior with her sigil radiant.” The man interrupted him with a casual and dismissive wave of his hands. Turning his head to the side and addressing a pair of black boots barely visible behind a curtain. “Girshan, do you know these fellows?”
“I do not.” A gruff and masculine voice came from his not-so hidden position. To Brenn that would normally mean they were a demi-human in a place that wanted only human staff facing any parties they negotiated with. “They are unknown to me.”
“An unfortunate interruption, but not an irreparable one, Martin.” Alex said, intonation composed and calm, but Brenn couldn't possibly miss the look she was giving him. Enough to flay his flesh. “They are my bodyguards, I think there's been a misunderstanding, isn't that right – Brennwulf and Micah?”
“Aye, my lady.” Brenn bowed, and Micah performed an odd curtsy behind him, not sure what else to do given his current lack of range in movement.
“Well!” Martin clapped contentedly, a fop of a man but with eyes that communicated nothing but devilish cunning. At his first glimpse, Brenn didn't like him in the least bit, people like that were always playing games far too complex for his honest mind to follow. “I've taken quite a liking to that prince of yours, and am more than happy to let bygones be bygones in the event that any permanent damage to my subordinates is met with fair remuneration. Naturally, I'll be giving invoicing you with a our premium rate on healing services since I own those as well. As for the orphanage... You can have it, I don't care.”
“Understood.” Sigi nodded, her behavior was so out of character, straight backed – prim and proper. She was even wearing a dress... None of the women had come in armor, though that wasn't a sign of not being prepared. The armor made for them by Tyr could be equipped almost instantly just as his could, a compact artifact worn on their wrists like a bracelet or bangle. It was odd, however, to see all of them together, wearing finely tailored professional attire and all of the customary accessories of a typical noblewoman. None of them wore jewelry, not typically, not beyond their dimensional rings at least. “Including remuneration, what is your initial offer for the purchase?”
“No charge, of course.” Martin waved his hand again. Brenn could see only a profligate noble, but the Lavender and all of its component arms had seen a sudden and meteoric rise to power in recent years, overtaking much of the competition – and nobody knew how. All of a sudden, their shops had seen a stock of alchemical and enchanted goods that could not be challenged by any other artisan in the city. Which... Brenn supposed that made sense, that was a quite obvious and transparent way to make money, and if they dealt with Tyr he knew how they'd gotten their hands on things like that. Things that no common artisan was permitted to sell without licenses, simple things Tyr likely didn't care for – and few would pursue him as the liable party.
“Despite his lack of apparent interest, that husband of yours has an incredible mind for business. He owns twenty percent of my trading house and is my most valued partner. I heard about the business with some of our... Let's call them fringe associates, before I properly took over, and I handled it. Thankfully, Tyr is not only a genius but also a generous man, he was able to let bygones be bygones in consideration of future profit. A visionary, much like myself.”
“...Tyr?” Alex looked uncomfortable, surely he meant Ella? But Martin Klaus was no fool, if he said Tyr – he meant Tyr. She'd had suspicions for so long about the moves her husband had made, acquiring this and that company. Buying land in every city and making an amount of gold that would make any count blush. Now he was a lictor of the republic too, and owned dozens of businesses and rental properties in Leygein, by his own hand – neither she nor Ella had a part in that. It couldn't possibly be all coincidence. She hoped it wasn't, even if he kept it all a secret and frustrated her, she was proud of him – it was good to see some ambition in someone many might term as whimsical at best, drooling idiot at worst.
“Free?” Astrid leaned forward, all business now, very much the daughter of the high king of Oresund. Aggressive and watchful, compared to Alex's silver tongue and Sigi's intimidating stoicism. “What's the catch?”
“That orphanage nets me an average of twenty marks monthly after overhead, and unlike my predecessor I have no interest for grooming spellcasters. That was what it was for, expanding influence through connections primarily predicated on coercion and debtorship. They only accept orphaned mages of above average talent, carefully combing through a score of cities to find these children and expatriate them. The bribes alone are far beyond any profit I could make, and the city ensures I cannot gouge orphanages beyond a standard rate for tenancy.” Martin took a puff of the blue smoke in his pipe and exhaled, chuckling at the mystified look the women aimed at the three masted battleship suddenly sailing through the air. A spellcaster himself, then, though of what stripe none could say – Martin Klaus had no public record regarding attendance to any of the known academies either in this state or any other. “Free, I said, but I'll be blunt, that's not entirely the truth. All I require is one small favor.”
“I figured as much.” Alex nodded. “Name it.”
“You don't have to do this for me, Alex.” Brenn interrupted. “You cannot trust the merchant nobility of Kriegstad, they are... Aggressively capitalist...” He corrected himself before he ran off into a verbal tirade about corruption and degeneracy.
“This is wise, you should fear us, myself especially. I would never ask anyone to trust me, unless in doing so I planned to violate that faith.” Martin nodded. “Men kill for lust, whether it be women or gold it doesn't matter. I'd put a knife in most men for the smallest sum myself, but do you know why I would never turn my back on a promise made to you in contradiction of what I've just said?”
Nobody did, Martin Klaus was largely an unknown to everyone in the city – not just them. A tricky, cunning sort, a man who'd kill or bribe his way into a records room to ensure no loose ends existed by which to target him. Suffice it to say, Martin Klaus wasn't the most cretinous sort, but he was no good man either, far from it. His one and only ambition was profit whether that be in gold or otherwise, obsessive and capable of any act as long as he could ensure he'd get away with it. Completely amoral, and again, devilishly cunning in his pursuits.
Extremely narcissistic too, that was made abundantly obvious on the surface, but Alex had her doubts.
“Because my greatest fear is a man with a throat I cannot slit by my own knife or the purchased hand that holds it. Know anyone like that?”
“Just tell us what you need from us.” Sigi said, furrowing her brow. He wasn't lying though, Tyr was a natural deterrent and had no compunction preventing him from marching in here, kicking the door down, and killing everyone inside. If rumors were to be believed, Tyr had 'eagled' a platinum ranked adventurer just outside of the city, before stitching him back up again.
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Just to make a point, pointedly ensuring the man lived to tell the tale.
One could call Martin a bad man, and they wouldn't necessarily be wrong. But he was a job creator, a bad man who's dogged pursuance of commerce would invariably help many others, doing good things. Tyr was far more selective, and well aware of what it meant to inspire through true fear, except in comparison he cared nothing for the law and would consistently break it. Blunt and brutal, as opposed to carefully constructed schemes and a navigation around liability, Tyr was apathetic to punishment because in his mind – what fool would even try it?
For all Tyr's negative relationship with his past titles, and his father, he consistently abused his authority. Crutching on it, even if unawares to the fact, to ensure he wasn't put on a stake and burnt 'alive'. Alive being the operative word, they might not be able to kill him – but he could be tortured.
In any case...
“All I want, and it's a trifling thing...” Martin cleared his throat, snuffing out the pipe and allowing Brenn to get a proper look at his office. It wasn't as pompous as one might expect. The furniture was clearly well made, but everything else was plain. Clean, of course, but it appeared more a study of an old professor than a nobleman steeped in the pleasures of the flesh. The desk was covered in a mess of well worn tablets and ledgers, a great stack of them and a notepad filled from top to bottom with messy handwriting. If anything, the man worked hard for his money, or at least wanted to make it look like he did. “I want Tyr's blood. Just a vial will do.”
“His what...?” Brenn frowned, staring at Martin with a sour look.
“His...” Alex nearly choked on the tea she'd been sipping at. Good stuff, imported, and as Brenn had noticed – she had too – the state of the office, that is. Neither the spirits on the shelf nor the box of tea had been touched in some time before their arrival. Both were carefully maintained and stocked, and not from overuse. There wouldn't have been that near imperceptible layer of dust around them had they been. Martin was shrewd, a financial genius, and was clearly positioning himself in a certain way, wanting people to make assumptions. The dreamleaf in particular was depleted, there was no mana in the vapor, a clever trick that might see to one lowering their guard. Brenn did not trust a man like that, everything here was a literal smokescreen in preparation to brutalize anyone negotiating with or against him. “His blood? You'll have to forgive me, but that is a disturbing request. What for?”
“I want to drink it.” Martin shrugged absently, again as if none of this mattered, but she saw the greed in his eyes. “That's all. I'll do it in front of you, if you'd like. As for why, I'm afraid only he could answer that question in totality. Part of this agreement naturally assumes responsibility that you will not tell him, though frankly I'm sure he wouldn't mind. We're a pair of chaps, after all. Rather safe than sorry, he is a bit impulsive, and you'll forgive me for saying so I'm sure.”
“For what reason in the name of all the gods would we have a vial of Tyr's blood?” Brenn was angry, but wasn't sure how to feel about the bizarre request. Technically, there was nothing wrong with it, just imbibing it was a custom some churches participated in. It wasn't the taboo of the flesh, the drinking of sanctified blood was practiced by the Brotherhood Sanguine, those who worshiped the lamb god Sanguinar. The sacrificed, a highly revered, though dead god of the church of light. A cult, but a tolerated one – being that he was purportedly the father of Vestia and Aotrom both. And either the son, father, brother, or lover of Aphrosia – perhaps all at once, mythologies were often confusing like that.
King's blood, though... Many might call it superstition, and it wasn't technically taboo, but the blood of a royal was not something asked for in appropriate company. There was magic in lineages, all of them, but the blood of a primus? Martin was braver than Brenn had thought, there were a great many paladins who would bury a hammer in his skull just for whispering such a thing.
“Actually...” Alex cleared her throat. “We all do.” One by one, she and everyone except for Brenn and Magnus presented a vial, even Micah had one. “He gave them to us, he said it was important – like a really strong healing potion if we ever needed one in a pinch. But it's blood, so...”
“It's disgusting, even if it's his.” Micah said. “I'm not drinking that shit.”
“I drank mine.” Magnus shrugged in response, earning several looks of concern from the others. “It wasn't that bad, I had no idea his blood was blue, though. Tasted no worse than cough syrup, though after doing so I couldn't sleep for days afterwards, so be warned.”
“It's not blue.” Alex replied. “It's sanctified by the church of Aphrosia. Still, I'd very much like to know why you want to drink my husband's blood, Martin Klaus. As he has made me aware, it is a very powerful healing potion. But it's not worth a building in inner Kriegstad.”
“Alright, I'll be blunt once again.” Martin nodded after a moment of contemplation, he wanted the stuff bad and was willing to do near anything to do it. If they'd asked for 50,000 Marks, near his whole liquid fortune, that was a price he'd have paid. “Because his blood is blessed. I have many... Agents, let's call them. I protect my interests, and your husband is one of them. Little mice hear things, don't they? Where nobody suspects they might be. His blood is not a 'healing potion', though it would certainly act as one. His blood is blessed. My family has been investigating him ever since he was a child, my father had a great interest in Tyr and thought he might be more agreeable to a northern business expansion given what that man perceived to be profligacy. Or someone easily manipulated, in any case...”
Martin paused, taking a long sip of his wine. Grape juice from a bottle bearing a forged label declaring it a Milanese red.
“Alas, Tyr ended up being more disciplined and less prone to exercising privilege than most I've ever met. A rough man who likes to sleep outside and gaze at the stars, a lot like his father if what I've heard is true. But he entertained me, because he lacks your compulsions. He doesn't much care about money, doesn't have any driving conviction in the things that he does, or so he'd like to appear. A tricky, fox of a man, just like me. Very smart, and very loyal, honest in his dealings. Granted, I know that Lady Ella handles his matters but when I meet a man, I know them. Always. Except when I met him, all I felt was a stomach churning fear of the violence he'd commit on me should I renege on any deal we'd made. It was an incredible rush of an experience. In any event, I want to drink his blood because I suspect it might be a suitable awakening catalyst. Who wouldn't want to awaken? Get a few decades more of life, feel younger, I'm not old but once you get into your thirties you'll know what I'm talking about. You start to feel the wear coming down on you, I'd very much like to remove that potentiality from the table.”
“Awakening catalyst? What does that--”
“I see.” Alex interrupted Brenn with a pointed glance. The women all knew. They asked, and Tyr had told, keeping his promise. He wasn't free and open with these thoughts but over time they'd understood that it was his respect for them that compelled him to do so. Or something like it, close enough, or perhaps the projection of their arrogance and he didn't love them at all. It didn't matter. “So you want to awaken? For what? I know that you've a decent hand at magic and were an accomplished artificio duelist in the circuit not so long ago, but I'd also like to know why you want to awaken specifically, this is no small thing.”
“Why?” Martin chuckled condescendingly, dropping his 'act'. Not too much, but enough to set everyone in the room on edge. A man who was absolutely confident he was the smartest individual in any given company, and for good reason – he probably was. “I've said as much. Because I want to live for centuries, with none of the detriment of becoming an undead. There are vampires here, you know? Decent fellows, all considered, but I do not wish for that sort of damnation. Awakening is simply the best possible option, and I've no personality for pursuing the heroes path.”
“Alright.” Alex replied. She knew it was a lie. They'd bound their minds together, the women, before coming into this place. Astrid always knew, could read him like a book. Martin didn't care at all about living longer, it was the curiosity of what would happen that interested him most. The experience, and that was good enough for him, he wanted to be excited, to feel alive. What power came of it was irrelevant to him, just an add-on, in a way this made him a bit of a masochist considering how the process of awakening worked in the first place.
Without preamble, she handled over her vial and they concluded their business. Tyr had said quite clearly that if anyone asked directly for it, to give it to them. Anyone. And this was not the only vial she had, she'd already drunk three and slowly began to experience their effects. Able to take more than others because of some part of the plan he'd never fully explain to her.
A test subject, the first one to give it a shot – being that she'd already disobeyed him by chasing the path of spira in the exact opposite of what she'd promised him. Alex owed him at least that much, to take the risk first before more was given to the others in a big to understand why some could drink once, but others could take more.