Irwyn did not end up staying for dinner. He left in time to have some leeway getting back for the meal after agreeing that he would visit the orphanage two or three times a week if time allowed. He shared supper with Elizabeth who voiced her pleasant surprise at his return along with a serving of tea - she had certainly been getting into the brewing habit ever since their arrival in Ebon Respite, not that Irwyn minded.
It also gave him the opportunity to present Aaron’s ideas and attempt to iron out many of the details. He was informed that he did, in fact, have a uniform in his closet – he couldn’t exactly show up in the same clothes and armywear would be appropriate since he would be playing out the role of a soldier. Then came the less mundane part of the disguise.
“I suppose this would work,” Elizabeth nodded, pulling a simple metal ring from her bag. It was unadorned, though still polished to shine.
“Why is it always a ring?” Irwyn shook his head.
“Well, everyone has ten fingers, I suppose?” Elizabeth shrugged. “Easy to carry… also close to your hands since many mages need to activate them manually, can be hidden among regular jewelry… There are many reasons to choose a ring.”
“Shouldn’t artisans be more creative?” Irwyn sighed.
“Most weaker enchantments are produced according to an unchanging formula,” she shrugged. “I suppose rings sell better than amulets or earrings? It might be that people expect it to be a ring, so the craftsmen make it that. I have never really put much thought into it.”
“I suppose it barely matters,” Irwyn admitted, returning to the main topic. “This one would let me change my voice?”
“Much more than that,” Elizabeth nodded, putting the ring on. Then, of all things, a small magical screen manifested above it - though Irwyn could not see anything more than the outline. Elizabeth only took a few seconds to adjust it with her other hand before a marked change happened.
“Voice is obviously an option,” Elizabeth said, though she no longer sounded anything like herself. It was not even just the shifting of the pitch up or down: It was the cadence itself that morphed, as well as the hint of an accent appearing, and other subtle changes Irwyn could not point out. It was not just different, the new voice was utterly unrecognizable.
“Facial features are naturally included,” her visage smoothly shifted in a similar manner into something almost androgynous as she tapped on the screen again. Not a trace of familiarity remained, including the eye color or bone structure. "Exact details are difficult but vague instructions look realistic."
“Then height, proportions,” she was suddenly taller, downright towering. Her arms grew thicker, insanely muscular. "Those are easy enough."
“And you just carry that around,” Irwyn inclined his head at the demonstration.
“Well, it’s on the lower end as such things are reconned,” she shrugged, everything back to normal in the blink of an eye. “It’s using barely a few intentions. I have never actually used it in practice before since any half-competent security would see through it. In upper circles its basically a toy. But it should be more than enough for a gathering without mages.”
“Lower budget of House Blackburg are like artefacts for the common people,” Irwyn shook his head. “This is quite wondrous. Is it an illusion?”
“Obviously it’s an illusion,” Elizabeth chided. “It would be an illusion even if it actually twisted flesh.”
“That sounds unpleasant, compared to just a trick of Light,” Irwyn paused. Creating a false image with Light magic over the body seemed like the obvious easiest choice to make such a thing work. Well, except the voice, he supposed.
“Illusion as a concept stems from Life, and the Deceiver, do not forget that,” Elizabeth shook her head. “As does this ring. If it was Light magic for the visual parts you would likely just see right through it. No, this illusion changes your surface-most nature.”
“Yet you said it doesn’t twist flesh,” Irwyn pointed out, interested. His grasp on Life magic was limited to say the least.
“An illusion may cause a visual change without actually changing someone, and the other way around,” Elizabeth explained. “There are very distinct differences between change as Life mages reckon it. What the ring achieves is considered ‘outer deception’ - you present a false outline of Life. It merely adjusts how the Life is perceived by the world, not its inner nature. It is a temporary change that will fade with Finity. Besides illusions, Life-based stitching works on this principle.”
“As opposed to?” Irwyn prodded.
“Next would be ‘surface deception’, the shape of Life is changed,” Elizabeth obliged. “This is where the actual flesh twisting happens. Life-based graft healing works like this - taking pre-existing flesh from somewhere, then changing it into whatever is missing in the wounded area - but much more is possible. Changing the physique, readjusting organs… probably any physical change you can think of. Since it alters physical flesh the changes are as permanent as the Life that bears them, though Finity can mess with the process itself.”
“From there it gets more… mystical. I have only surface knowledge - stories and examples rather than in-depth dives. The next is ‘inner deception’ where Life changes its fundamental nature. This is generally around the domain level and has very few restrictions in variety. Bodies that no longer require blood or air, substituting them with something else. Esoteric physiques with extraordinary resistance to magic, or specific forces of nature. I heard of a mage who made their skin completely frictionless while also reconstituting their entire anatomy with paramount speed - that way they could move many times the speed of sound without so much as a tailwind, much less the notorious boom of the sound barrier.”
“Last is ‘True deception’ where, and I quote ‘Life becomes change, change becomes Life’. I genuinely do not know what that means, I just read it in a book. The only other thing I gathered about this stage is that the Fae are naturally born into it. Even examples are a tightly kept secret.”
“Well, if that stage anything like the magic Fae use it is bound to be strange,” Irwyn frowned. “Like deceiving magic itself to use other elements than Life. Or spontaneous death and resurrection for no good reason.”
“Well, the most powerful Life mages are notorious for being extremely hard to kill even through complete bodily erasure,” she nodded. “The Duchy of Green has the majority of the oldest Nameless mages in the Federation for a reason and it’s not just longevity.”
“Fascinating,” Irwyn smiled, reluctantly returning to the prior topic. “Then will I be able to use the ring?”
“Yes, I can key you into it,” she nodded.
“Other than that?” Irwyn nodded.
“It looks like the plan should work,” Elizabeth confirmed. “We can go over the budget with Trecha, then present it to everyone. I don’t think anyone will complain.”
“With you around it might be more about whether they will want to rather than whether they will,” Irwyn smiled.
“What is that supposed to mean?” she raised an eyebrow.
“That House Blackburg is terrifying?” Irwyn mirrored her. “Surely you are aware people are scared of you. Now, I obviously don’t know how deep-rooted that is within the army itself but I doubt it’s not omnipresent.”
“The army is built on discipline, not fear, Irwyn,” she shook her head.
“So you couldn’t, theoretically, completely sink their careers with one short letter?” Irwyn asked with doubt.
“Well, yes, I suppose,” she bit her lip. “But I would not do that unless it was really warranted.”
“And they understand that, I am sure,” Irwyn nodded. “What they are worried about is what your definition of ‘warranted’ might be. I have seen how Alira named herself a judge with only sentence she dispensed being death. And it takes just one bad example for everyone to start sweating whether they might be meeting the next.”
“It’s different with… well, with mages,” she paused, then continued when Irwyn did not interrupt. “There is a distinction between mages and non-mages. Both in the eyes of tradition and law. Even Alira with her background would not elude harsh punishment if she had killed so many mages.”
“And you are saying the same goes for careers. Mages simply have protections and recourse others would not,” Irwyn nodded, unsurprised. It was rather… blunt. But not like he had not noticed the lines in the sand. In fact, probably even on paper. From what he had seen, the Duchy of Black actively tried to isolate their two demographics. With encouraging gathering places like Abonisle or City Black, and creating vacuums like Ebon Respite.
“Ideally there is supposed to be minimal interaction between the mages and the rest,” Elizabeth nodded. “The Archduke of Red has always disapproved of any indenturement or outright ownership of people, especially on a larger scale. And, more importantly, he had repeatedly traveled to enforce that displeasure until a more hands-off approach was taken by the mage nobility of yore and passed down from there.”
“But since apathy is the standard, who cares about a little rampage here and there?” Irwyn grimaced. Yes, apathy was certainly a good word to describe the Duchy’s approach to its more mundane citizens.
“It could have been much worse. With the Pride of House Blackburg we are naturally inclined to develop a disdain for those ‘lesser’,” she tried to elaborate. “It’s for the best if we don’t have the urge to prove our superiority.”
“Do you?” Irwyn asked, carefully, immediately unsure whether he should have.
“Being bedridden for half my youth did wonders for curbing my ego, I suppose, or at least let me develop an awareness of it,” she replied, just as slowly. “But being as high as I stand in both birth and talent means I look down on almost everyone, Irwyn, mage or not. If I hated people just for being lesser in some way it would drive me insane.”
“You have a point,” he nodded reassuringly but noted something: Almost everyone.
He had not gotten the impression that Elizabeth looked down on people, but thinking back he realized his mistake. She had not looked down on Dervish. Nor on himself, and that was certainly a pleasant bit of knowledge to hold. But analyzing further, when else had he ever seen Elizabeth interact with people for more than a sentence? No, rather - when else had he seen her interact without playing out a role?
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He thought back to the night before Abonisle nearly fell. With Desir she had acted polite, but perhaps just acted - like it was part of the experience, of her little pseudo-criminal adventure. But he also remembered that shop owner they had bothered to make them something to eat far past the closing time. Irwyn had been quite embarrassed to intrude. Elizabeth barely looked at the woman, as if she did not matter beyond delivering what the heiress desired… But how could one not be like that when they had been raised surrounded by servants? Irwyn had seen City Black, or at least a part of its high class. How many of the nobles saw the omnipresent maids and butlers as people? And had he when staying there for weeks?
“Are you…?” she began to ask with a hint of worry.
“I suppose I am not so different,” Irwyn interrupted her. “I don’t care about people, do I? I always thought of myself as ‘better’ because I did not draw any pleasure from hurting others. But I was comparing myself to the true scum. That better isn’t good. It’s also just apathy when it comes down to it. What right would I have to criticize that?”
“You have every right to be above it,” Elizabeth smiled slightly at that, as if relieved. “If not by birth, then by talent alone. I believe that it is power that gives people a choice. Be it political or magical. Your choice may only be denied when someone or something can stop you.”
“The whole plan for spotting undead seems like a light topic now,” Irwyn sighed, then moved away from the conversation.
“We could get Trecha to have a look at it,” she nodded, following the change. “It’s not so late as to be improper. Not quite even curfew yet.”
“Then I would like to know his thoughts,” Irwyn nodded.
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“How accurate are these numbers?” their senior supply officer questioned, reading through Aaron’s calculations.
“My friend has the metaphorical hand on the artery of Ebon Respite’s underworld,” Irwyn assured. “So I would say as accurate as an educated guess gets.”
“It seems far too low,” Trecha frowned. “Paying out these ‘tips’ might not even be noticeable on our budget if these rates actually hold.”
“This is not a particularly rich area,” Elizabeth suggested. “Despite the proximity to City Black, Ebon Respite basically exists to provide cheap mundane labour. The underworld’s expectations would be informed by the general lower standard of wealth.”
“I will admit to some doubts about whether this will work,” Trecha nodded. “But judgement can be deferred and most of this lies outside my area of expertise. At this price point, or even three times more, I would agree that the plan seems very cost-effective as is with no adjustments. But we should consider a contingency, just in case.”
“If my failure of judgment proves too expensive I will take responsibility to supplement us from my personnel wealth,” Elizabeth reassured.
“You have my full support, if it was needed,” Trecha bowed slightly. “Anything else I can do for you, Captain?”
“Actually, yes. I had a thought,” Elizabeth did pause the Sergeant’s departure. ”This plan calls for a liaison.”
“Do you have someone in mind, Captain?” Trecha paused.
“Alice would be a good fit, given her notably anorectic line of duties.”
“It seems that nothing can escape your discerning eye, Captain,” Trecha replied, a hint of nervousness creeping into the voice and stance.
“I will not begrudge you looking after her when she was so volatile,” Elizabeth waved her hand in dismissal of those worries. “But now that she is getting better it would not be amiss to assign her something more than free time.”
“Then should I inform her?” Trecha nodded.
“I intend to tell her myself,” Elizabeth shook her head. “Just arrange the meeting. Let’s say… after lunch tomorrow.”
“Then I will relay the message,” the sergeant promised, then left.
“Alice?” Irwyn asked once Trecha was gone.
“I obviously want to keep the unusualness of your company obscure,” Elizabeth shrugged. “Alice is about the only person I can trust not being a spy for my mother. We don’t want her getting interested in your acquaintances because of the 'honing' if at all possible.”
“I suppose it will not hurt if we learn to work together in an easy setting,” Irwyn nodded. “Since she is also bound for your entourage.”
“That as well,” Elizabeth agreed. “It is quite late now though. Goodnight?”
“Goodnight,” Irwyn smiled.
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Ezax von Blackburg sat on his throne, deep within his line's ancestral palace, Avys beside but below him. His chin rested on his first, elbow on the high armrest - not an unusual choreographed display of arrogance and feigned disinterest. Truly feigned in this case for his unexpected guests were quite fascinating indeed. He would not have granted them his presence otherwise.
“I have offered you precious Time in days when every minute is scarce,” his voice boomed towards the two kneeling figures. “Speak your piece.”
The first was a familiar enough sight. Ezax was no stranger to demons of Lust, in fact, they were quite hilarious. The one in front of him was actively trying not to look too much like Avys. Lust took whatever shape those around them found the most desirable, though they could force some adjustments and mix from everyone around them... Except in this case only Ezax and Avys were in the room and Avys’ magical presence was so faint next to his she might as well not be present. This one had correctly guessed that taking the exact form of his host’s wife would give offense and was squirming to not let that happen, much to the Duke’s amusement.
The second figure remained cloaked by more than just cloth, all features of the humanoid silhouette concealed. Perhaps they were pretending to be half-elven, though such efforts were pointless against Ezax’s sight. No, the figure was a demon as well - as the Duke easily saw - though they lacked the usual identifying traits. Five of the sins Demons embodied were quite formulaic if one knew what to look for. As for Pride… well, no one knew whether Pride demons even existed anymore - not even House Blackburg had a single record of them. But the last unaccounted for was Envy, and those Demons were diverse, to say the least.
The one in front of him had 77 eyes. Not really human, more spider-like and scattered around the body - only 10 pairs placed on their ‘face’. Then there were the mandibles and several folded extra limbs concealed beneath the cloak. The overall distinct insectile and arachnid features suggested the Demon - or its ancestor - had once been something Voidborn spider-adjacent.
Not that it mattered too much. Both of the demons were domain mages. The succubus at two, the spider at seven. One was the negotiator, the other muscle. Except strength was a mere formality before someone who could extinguish them both with a glance. And they clearly knew as much from the subtle waves of existential dread Ezax’s presence caused to course through their very essence. Yet still they had requested to meet.
“Of course, Your Majesty,” the demon of Lust bowed from already kneeling - it was almost a kowtow at that point - before looking back up at Ezax. “We shall not waste a second.”
Which in itself was strange. The word ‘second’. Most might not pay it any attention but Ezax knew Demons. He had ventured into the Void on countless occasions and met more than almost anyone still living in the Federation. And Demons, simply put, usually did not really understand the passage of Time as a concept.
As deep in the Void as the smarter ones lived ‘Time’ became loose after all. Faster, slower, halted… at least compared to the mostly objective passage outside. It still passed in the Void, yes, but at different paces and sometimes with pauses in-between its flow. Demons were also naturally immortal so they very rarely needed any conception of Time keeping. If they needed to meet one another they would usually just go to the agreed upon ‘place’ - as incorrect as the term was when speaking of the deep Void - and simply… wait. Subjective centuries in some cases - it made no difference to them.
But this one used the word ‘second’. That in itself already told Ezax much. The Demon either spent a significant part of its existence in more mortal realities… or they lived in shallower depths than domain holding Demons ought to.
“We represent a Named patron who insists they remain anonymous, Your Majesty,” the Lust demon explained. “We have been sent to pursue a fugitive into your demesne.”
“Are you then asking permission?” Ezax raised an eyebrow. Avys still sat by his side, though she had remained silent so far.
“Nay, this fugitive is far below your notice in power, Your Majesty,” the succubus shook their head. Expressive. Very used to dealing with humans it could not afford to affect with its charming magics then. “This pursuit is more petty than practical. Moreover, we have found much evidence they have already perished before our arrival.”
“Then why come to me?” Ezax frowned slightly, making sure it was visible.
“We have been unable to locate a key witness, your Majesty. After weeks of searching, scarcely a trace of them emerged. Therefore, we thought they might have extraordinary associations. Thus we seek both your help and perhaps permission.”
My time is far from cheap. Frown more, Avys’ voice sounded in his head.
“My Time is far from cheap,” Ezax echoed it, his brow furrowing further.
“Of course, your Majesty,” the Demon of Lust quickly assured, squirming under the hint of displeasure. Then he gestured towards the other Demon. “We naturally offer adequate payment.”
“Your Majesty,” the other Demon spoke for the first time. The voice was raspy and mechanical. As if it strained the creature of Envy to speak at all. “A Lich War brews in your demesne. I would offer my magic for six months of battle once our matter is concluded.”
Six months after the real fighting starts, Avys relayed as she sat motionless.
“Six months after the real fighting starts,” Ezax replied.
“Of course, your Majesty,” the Envy demon confirmed without hesitation.
“Very well, then within reason you will have help,” Ezax nodded. Six months of a high domain asset could have a notable impact on their overall losses. And Avys was undoubtedly already salivating over how to best use the Demon. Ezax foresaw much scapegoating, so that the Demon would bear the blame for their own actions right before departing the Realm. “Then who is it you seek?”
“We have only known them as ‘Young Mockingbird’,” the Demon of Lust said.
Ask me, Avys clearly recognized the title. Ezax had not a clue.
“Have you heard of such a person, Avys?” the Duke turned to her.
“Yes, it is rather familiar,” the Duchess nodded, frowning. “It is an alias used by the young mage Elizabeth has taken into her entourage recently.”
“Ah, that complicates matters,” Ezax voiced, turning back to the demons. “A member of my daughter’s entourage is, by extension, under my protection.”
“We can be unintrusive,” the Lust Demon said slowly. “We merely need to confirm some matters.”
“You will be unintrusive,” Ezax corrected. Then he LOOKED at them. Not with his eyes, but with what he was. With the weight of his magic. Not in full force but revealing just the hint of the dread beneath. The Demons recoiled, for the shortest of moments experiencing such pure fear a mortal mind could never contain it. Ezax knew Demons, after all. His condition would not be defied. Then he ceased staring, allowing the conversation to continue.
“May I at least read the truth of their words?” the succubus would likely sweat if their body could. “I assure your Majesty that it would be without notice or consequence.”
Insist they do not share anything about the two with anyone here. And that they don’t prod anything else.
“You will swear to secrecy concerning all matters and details you might learn about my daughter and her subordinate - not a soul in this Realm will learn of them from you,” Ezax nodded. “And you will only try to learn things that concern this fugitive you seek.”
“That is agreeable, your Majesty,” the Lust demon nodded.
“Then say the words, on Umbra’s Name.”
And the demons did. Since Avys did not point out any loopholes in their wording Ezax knew there would be none. Afterwards Avys gave them directions, following by the Demons’ desperate departure from Ezax’s presence.
“You think something is strange,” he noticed on Avys’ face.
“No one goes this far just to confirm some nobody who slighted them is dead,” Avys allowed herself a frown. “Especially not someone so unimportant.”
“You know what they were after?” Ezax raised an eyebrow.
“Not what, who,” Avys nodded. “I would not, from the top of my head, if not for Lizzy’s boy. I read every report on Abonisle that concerned him twice. There was one particular person that died with Irwyn being the only real witness. A recent friend, apparently. No body ever found, which would match why they want better confirmation. And there had been some strange occurrences at Abonisle recently that could be explained by two powerful Demons snooping around. Too many things add up.”
“Half-elven then? Something else?” Ezax frowned. “They were not lying when they implied their target had come from the Void.”
“Possibly, if thin-blooded,” Avys nodded. “I have attributed that person no importance beyond being decently talented, so notoriously promiscuous it made it into every report, and friendly with the boy. Now… Now I am suddenly very curious about their real background.”
“Tell me if you unravel anything important,” Ezax nodded. “I might have some insight into Demons.”
“Of course, dear,” Avys nodded. “I will see what little time I can spare. Unfortunately, that might be preciously scarce nowadays.”
“Is it beginning?” Ezax’s gaze sharpened.
“A few of our spies reports the Duchy of White is moving its troops. Surrounding an area… as if they had found a horde hidden there,” she nodded. “The first real battle of this war may happen as soon as tomorrow.”
“Then I wish them luck,” Ezax nodded. “And hope they have not underestimated what they will face.”