Aperio could not help but tilt her head at the laughter of both Micheal and the woman whose little badge on her chest identified as Officer Santori. Her reply had been supposed to be a joke — even if it was true — but thus far any bit of humour she had deliberately attempted had failed.

"While I would love to believe that," Officer Santori said, "I don't think you can actually do magic. Even if your getup is convincing."

The All-Mother let out a sigh and shook her head. "I simply know what he went through, and what might come to haunt him in the near future." She paused for a moment, unsure if she should speak further, but eventually added, "It is not enjoyable in the least."

"I noticed," Micheal said, any sign that he had just laughed gone. "But I am still— was fine." He glared at Aperio. "The way you talk is messing with me."

"I have been told that it has that effect on people," the All-Mother replied, letting a bit more mana seep into her voice to make the point. "I cannot particularly say I see why. Perhaps it is the accent?"

Of course, Aperio was quite aware why the mortals were reacting the way they did, but telling them was definitely not an option.

"Where are you from?" the policewoman asked, looking at the All-Mother through slightly squinted eyes. "Your accent doesn't sound like anyone I know, nor do I recognise the two other languages you seem to speak."

The All-Mother mentally berated herself for mentioning her accent. There was no place on this world she could mention that would come close, and pretending that she did not know the name in English would probably not work.

"Does it matter where we are from?" Caethya asked as she stepped up next to Aperio and wrapped her arm around the All-Mother's waist. "It shouldn't, right?"

Her words were quickly followed by a mental communication that informed Aperio — perhaps a little too cheerily — about her love's willingness to fight these people should they force their hand.

"It doesn't," the woman replied, standing up. "I would still like to know, however. One of your languages sounds a little like Latin, but not quite, so I would assume that you come from somewhere near Italy."

"That would still be a ways away," Aperio replied and tilted her head slightly. "And while I do not know what 'Latin' would translate to, if you mean a very old language that used to be spoken by an entire empire, you would be correct. It is not quite the same, but close enough. The other one" —she gestured towards her ears— "is the language of the Elves. I would be very surprised if anyone aside from the two of us knows it. Well, and Adam, but he does not really speak it."

Officer Santori rubbed her temples and let out a sigh. "I'll go and speak with my colleague, please stay here for a while longer."

"Of course," Aperio replied, offering a small bow. "We have no intention of going anywhere until this situation is solved."

"Is he really okay?" Caethya asked, switching back to the language of their people and directing her gaze towards Micheal. "I have seen more than a few panic attacks, but his seemed a little… weird."

"Because I prevented most of it," the All-Mother said as she let a bit of her mana dance around her love. "It did not seem right to simply leave him be when I am the likely the reason for his shock to begin with. He might not have seen me get shot, but he surely deduced that on his own."

"And getting shot is something that should take you out," Caethya continued for the All-Mother as she began to nod to herself. "You did the right thing. I am more surprised by the fact that these police people are not trying to ask us more questions, especially since the woman saw me hide the gun you broke in my [Dimensional Storage]."

The All-Mother offered a shrug. "She probably thought it a trick of the mind. Not that it matters, either. What would she do? Claim that you used magic?"

Caethya giggled at the reply. "You have a point," she said and began to gently move her hand over Aperio's back. "What happened to the mortal that had some mana in them?"

"They are about to step into the inn we are staying at," the All-Mother replied with a smile that stretched a touch wider than it perhaps should. "They also seem to have noticed my visit to the place. I had thought it would be nice to leave a trail of mana for them to find; a roundabout introduction, if you will."

"Perhaps," Caethya said. "I doubt they can get much from that though, other than that someone was there. We've studied magic for centuries on Verenier, and it's still difficult for us to pinpoint the precise person who manipulated some mana, or even get an impression of their overall strength. I doubt the people here are anywhere near as good, especially if they barely qualify as a mage."

Aperio tilted her head to the other side as she let her aura deliver a bit more information about the man that had just stepped into the Dragonfly Inn. She would call him many things, but mage was not one of them. What little mana he had seemed to be mostly focused into his limbs, eyes, nose, and for some reason his teeth as well.

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"Not a mage," she said. "Their use of magic is more like that of a monster than a Human."

///

Gregory closed the door behind him and stopped. He could feel a lingering presence hanging in the air, one that reminded him of the one he had first felt in the Sanctuary. Old man Hannibal knew the truth of his world, and had access to ward stones that could produce this effect, but Gregory doubted that he would have used one. Especially not when the next meeting of the council was supposed to happen in under a week.

The need to time meetings with multiple clans to coincide with conventions that attracted cosplaying Humans was annoying, but it certainly made it easy to blend it. Nobody seemed to question the eccentric behaviour of the Elders or the newly initiated, and the more sane ones got the chance to roam a little more freely.

"Did a mage check in?" Gregory asked, his voice easily loud enough to be heard by Hannibal in his office. "I had thought you disliked them after they rejected your son."

A disgruntled chuckle came out of the office, Gregory only able to hear it thanks to his enhanced ears. It only took a moment later for Hannibal to emerge from the room, leaning most of his weight on a cane Gregory was sure held more than a few surprises. Always has that on hand when I come…

"She is not one of those glorified tricksters," the old man said. "But not like you or your enemies, either. I would have said she was a Fae, but her size is the opposite of one." He shrugged. "She required two rooms and I accommodate those who know and can pay. It did help that she was exceedingly polite and that every word burrowed itself into my mind." Hannibal gave a full-bellied laugh and touched the pendant that he always wore under his greying, knitted sweater. "That was quite the experience; not much gets past Agne's gift these days.

"In any case," the old man continued, leaning the cane against the reception desk and opening the large book that rested on it, "I assume you require a room?"

"I do," Gregory replied before taking a step forward that brought him to the desk while leaving a trail of black smoke and the faint screeching of bats behind him. From a hidden inner pocket of his coat he withdrew a single silver coin, placing it atop the book.

"My usual room," he said. "I assume the fee is still the same?"

"It is," Hannibal replied, closing the book without writing down a name. He opened a drawer and, after a slight rustling as he shifted the keys inside around, pulled out one made from bronze and engraved with a series of initials. "You will find your meals in the fridge like usual. Emma will also bring you the paper once we get it, just don't try to be snarky with her again. I am not responsible for any bones she might break."

"I will be fine," Gregory replied. "She can try what she wants, but she will not succeed."

The old man placed the key on the desk and shook his head. "Perhaps not, but she still despises your kind and knows how to deal with them."

Gregory took the key, the cold metal briefly heating up in his hand as it recognised its temporary owner. "Then why do you employ her? Or, for that matter, why does she work here? You are as close to us as one can be without being turned."

"I pay well and she can keep my guests in check most of the time." Hannibal retrieved his cane and smiled at Gregory. "And those that still step out of line, I will deal with on my own. I might be old, but I still have a few tricks up my sleeve."

Gregory shook his head slightly, his eyes still fixed on the cane Hannibal leaned on. Contrary to popular belief, garlic and wood did little to his kind and neither did they need to feed on blood. In fact, for those that liked to partake in the life-giving liquid, feeding garlic to your dinner was something you should do. Not only did you get a little more, it also came with a little kick. Seasoning, if you will.

Though, going by the fact that most Human seasonings were usually weak poisons that they happened to enjoy the flavour of, perhaps garlic was not that good for him. Not that it matters. He had lived for a good while now, and had never really thought about the potential danger in large amounts of seasoning. It had never been a problem before, and it likely wouldn't become one anytime soon.

"I'm sure you do," he finally said. "Unless you have anything else to say, I will go and rest. Being out in the sun all day is exhausting."

"I will have Emma wake you once our new guests return," Hannibal replied. "You seem awfully interested in the one who booked the room. The Maybe-Fae."

"I am curious, yes; leaving behind this much of your presence means the person is either on par with the Elders, or they wanted me to find it. In either case, I am intrigued."

The old man just shook his head in reply and sighed before moving back to his office. Perhaps Hannibal had thought that Gregory would not hear the mumble about 'youths', but the Vampire was sure that his host knew of his guest's vast age and excellent hearing.

In the end, it did not matter. He would meet the person that seemingly wished to disturb the meeting that was to come. Not that that is hard to do… At this time of the year, you could go to nearly any city and find a gathering of the supernatural. The fact that this woman had come to Riverburg only meant that she either had no idea what was going on, or knew quite well that the real decisions were made here. But then, every gathering thinks that they make the real decisions. It was the way of things; always had been, always would be.

As the door closed behind Hannibal, Gregory turned towards the stairs, taking in once more the presence that still lingered in the room before ascending them. Soon.

///

Jester frowned at the letter in his hand. It had been quiet for a few days now. Too quiet for his tastes. The omnipresent feeling of being watched had vanished a while ago and while he had, at the time, not been sure why that was, the information he had just received seemed to answer that question.

The All-Mother had disappeared again. That was good news for him, but not as good as it could have been as the accursed creator had only left this world. Where she had gone, nobody seemed to know, but a loyal servant of his did inform him that the newly ascended Goddess of Beastkin had said that 'Aperio was on a brief vacation'.

The only thing the new head of the Vinmaier household could hope for here was that a brief vacation for the All-Mother was a few centuries for anyone else. Somehow, he had his doubts, but he would still make the best of the time during which Verenier was free from her silly ideals. Though she was the creator, nature had obviously diverted from her plans. He was much more willing to listen to the order of the natural world than her.

Still, he had seen first-hand what she could accomplish, and with his luck the chance of her returning sooner than hoped for was high. The old method of simply enslaving the lesser races therefore continued to be out of the picture. Luckily, Jester had new plans to circumvent that, but for those he would have to wait until Lita woke up. The procedure to remove the [Mark of Servitude] that had been woven into her flesh for nearly her entire life had seemingly taken a lot out of her.

"All in due time," he mumbled to himself, placing the letter into one of the drawers on his new desk. "For now, I need more supporters."