2. Up and Down
Julius stepped out of the shower, feeling at least a little more refreshed than when he entered. With a towel wrapped around his waist, he quickly patted down his wet hair and strode out into the living room of his penthouse apartment. Detecting his unique magical signature, the window blinds automatically retracted to reveal a panoramic view of the Grand Concord, one of the wealthiest districts on Titan. Julius himself lived in one of its most exclusive high-rises - the Federation Concord, which counted among its prestigious tenants wealthy businesspeople, powerful politicians, and the famous stars. Of course, on the income that Julius had as a magus of the Conclave of Magi, there was no absolutely no way he could afford a suite in the building, much less the penthouse. Many magi, in fact, lived in the Conclave’s housing to save money. However, Julius was not just any magus; he was the heir of the Alkas fortune.
As the light of Titan’s star, Gaos, seeped through the windows and the overhead lights in the apartment adjusted to complement, Julius could see Koda sitting on the dining table. Of course, the feline familiar was not sitting alone. Koda was, as far as Julius could tell, happily munching on meat that he was pulling off of skewers held between two small paws.
“Really, Koda - skewers for breakfast?” Julius sighed, striding to where he left his pad on the dining table the night before.
“A well-deserved comfort for a night of hard work, in my opinion,” Koda replied as he chewed.
“You barely did anything,” Julius absentmindedly said as he scrolled through his daily feed. Of course, in the year 1381 of the After Rebellion Era, there were biomod implants that negated the need for physical form factor devices like a pad. However, like many others, Julius was less than comfortable with the idea of mechanically implanting or replacing body parts unless necessary. As such, he could not simply scroll through his feed in his eye.
"How’d you even get that?” Julius asked, nodding his head in the direction of the plate of skewers that Koda had in front of him.
“I ordered out,” Koda said with a burp. “On your account.”
“And where’s my breakfast?”
Koda simply graced Julius with a loud burp and a knowing smile.
For a small cat the size of a boot, Koda ate enough to fill several grown, large men. Unlike a real cat, which were fairly rare and quite expensive to own, Koda was a familiar - a construct of mana itself. There were numerous theories behind the development of mana-based familiars, but generally they agreed on the idea that, over time, mana evolved and manifested into various beings, each of which were individual and unique. Some theorists even went as far as to postulate that there may be a whole civilization of mana-based beings that existed in a different dimension, but that was purely speculation. When the familiars manifested themselves in Julius’ plane of existence, they were without memories of prior existence - they possessed a basic understanding of themselves, but nothing more. Of course, as intelligent beings, a familiar did not have to tie themselves to any particular person. However, there was a symbiotic relationship of mana between a familiar and their linked person, and many familiars chose to link themselves to powerful magi. In Julius’ case, Koda came to him when he was young, so evidently they could see the mana potential of people too.
“Skewer for your thoughts?” Koda interrupted Julius’ train of thought, holding a skewer between his paws toward Julius.
Julius waved him off. “It’s way too early for that. Plus, I have a gala to attend tonight, so eating something as greasy as that will do me no good. You can use that crap as mana fuel, but it’s only going to give anyone else a stomach ache.”
“Ah,” Koda said, before inhaling the meat off its stick and tossing said stick behind him onto the marble floor. “Can’t have bad gas in front of ol’ Valentine, right?”
Julius playfully smacked Koda on the head, eliciting a yelp from the cat.
“Oh, right,” Koda suddenly spoke up, licking a paw. “The Conclave called for you earlier. I think they want a report about what happened in San Agnes.”
Julius sighed, running a hand through his still slightly damp hair. “Alright, guess that’s another thing I’ll have to add to the list. I still have to see Borsky as well. And I probably should get back here before the tuxedo is delivered.”
“Ugh,” Koda moaned, jumping onto Julius’ bare shoulder. “Borsky. He always wants to pet me.”
“No one ever said that you had to go.”
Koda licked a paw. “But what if you come across a skewer stall? It’ll be a missed opportunity!”
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“As a result, I found it prudent to intervene at that moment. The loss of their San Agnes distribution center and the capture of Sylas Shand, their ‘Number Two’ person, should significantly impact West Divine’s operations for the near future,” Julius concluded, stepping back from the holographic projection he was using to make his presentation. A ring of seven seats formed a half-circle around him, each seat filled by a powerful magus. Two of the elders of the Conclave of Magi were Tier 12s, with another two at Tier 11 and the other three at a solid Tier 10. Together, the seven elders of the Conclave constituted a major power base for the Relian Federation despite the Conclave’s nominal neutrality in political affairs.
“And this was all done while you were working under the joint operation with the Planetary Administration Police?” Elder Huani asked. He was seated directly to the left of the middle seat, signaling his relative seniority among the Conclave’s elders. Of course, that was befitting of a Tier 12 supreme magus of Frederick Huani’s stature. Huani had sat on the elder council for over two hundred years, and he had been a supreme magus for over half of that time.
“Yes,” Julius replied. “I made sure to alert the authorities once the situation was under control.”
“But you didn’t wait for them before engaging the criminals?” Elder Lilliana Desmond spoke up. She was seated at the very right side of the half-circle, given that she was not only a Tier 10 high mage, but also one of the youngest of the elders at a mere 72 years of age.
“No,” Julius admitted. “I took the initiative when I saw the so-called Number Two arrive. If I had waited for the P-A Police to show up, it would have been too late and we would have missed our chance to take out a high-priority target.”
“Hm,” hummed Elder Desi Poulter, who sat to Huani’s left. She was a Tier 11 grand magus. “But it was still an unnecessary risk, especially for one as young as you, to take.”
“I… admit that I may have been overzealous,” Julius carefully worded, “but I still found it to be a situation in my favor. Our records last showed Shand to be a Tier 6 magus, so while he was a senior magus, he was at the very bottom of that classification. It was unlikely that Shand had improved any considerable amount in the years since he was excommunicated, and as a Tier 9 archmagus, I felt that it was a safe engagement to approach.”
“Records can be out of date,” the middle figure finally said, silencing any potential response from the other elders. The figure leaned forward. Of course, when Gestal Duwix spoke, everyone listened. The man had not only been a Tier 12 supreme magus longer than the vast majority of the Relian Federation’s population had been alive, but he had been the chief elder for most of that time as well. Duwix was, as his title suggested, a supremely powerful being whose existence could only be matched by a handful of others scattered throughout the Civilized Systems.
Even Julius felt pressure at Duwix’s words, and he was unsure of how to respond. A lingering silence settled over the assembled group, hovering for a few moments. Finally, Duwix chuckled, and the other elders smiled as the tension broke.
“Relax, young Alkas,” Duwix graciously said with a smile. “You have done well. You not only fulfilled the Conclave’s obligation to the Planetary Administration in this matter, but you have also brought to justice a thorn in our side. Shand will face justice, and you will reap the rewards.”
“Thank you, elder,” Julius accepted, bowing in deference. He paused. “However, if I may ask for a request?”
“Go on,” Duwix nodded.
“I wish to continue working with the Planetary Administration on this joint operation. I feel that this operation can provide great benefit to the people of Titan, and there are many more criminal elements to be discovered and exposed.”
“So be it,” Duwix said with little hesitation. “Your request is granted.” He waved his hand. “Now, be off. I’m sure you would prefer to spend your day with others apart from the elderly.”
Julius nodded, and without a word, he spun around and strode through the opening grand doors that constituted the council room’s entrance. As he heard the doors clang shut behind him, he fell deep into thought. It was never as simple as it seemed, of course. A man of mountainous statute like Duwix would not deign to be friendly with the likes of Julius if it were not for a good reason. In this case, it was Julius’ talent and prowess that made him attractive to the powerful. Julius knew he was a prodigious magus - the youngest archmagus in at least five hundred years, if not more. It was natural that all of the power players in Relia, including each of the magi elders of the Conclave, would seek to curry favor with him - or try to destroy him. Half of the elders, Julius absentmindedly thought, probably wanted the latter since he posed a risk to their seat on the council. Duwix was clearly on the former side, thinking little of Julius’ request. Julius had his own reasons for making that request, and Duwix seemed to implicitly understand that.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“Well, that went well,” Koda remarked in Julius’ mind. As a familiar, he could integrate with Julius’ own mana and pass off inconspicuously within a magus. Julius had no doubt that every elder on council had their own familiar with whom they could converse and hold council with when needed. Of course, Koda was more interested in meat than in power politics, but Julius was certain that would change with time.
“Meat skewer time?” Koda asked.
Okay, Julius was reasonably certain that would change with time. Maybe.
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While Julius lived in the Grand Concord and the Conclave’s sanctum was likewise located there, Borsky lived in the underlevels of Titan: the subterranean levels of the ecumenopolis that never saw the light of day. As such, to meet with him and not draw unwanted attention, Julius dawned one of his synthflesh masks - which themselves were of Borsky’s design and manufacture. A change of clothes to something more befitting an underdweller and a seat on the hyperlight metro later, and Julius looked right at home.
Presumably once upon a time, the hyperlight metro system that curved and swerved around Titan was a pristine pinnacle of Relian engineering. The system took advantage of mana’s properties when interacting with a specific metal alloy - it created the ‘hyperlight’ phenomenon, where friction was reduced to near-zero and allowed for amazing speeds without much energy input. However, in Julius’ lifetime thus far, the hyperlight metro cars were dirty, old, and generally rundown. The people that Julius normally associated with would never be caught riding on one despite the affordable price and reasonable speed, preferring the private and luxurious shuttle cars of the upper class.
“Hello, hello,” the news played on a nearby vid, “welcome to TPN News. It’s hour-fifteen and I’m Ariq Gal. In our top story of the hour, the Ministry of the Treasury has released the latest quarterly report. On the whole, the economy rose zero-point-six percent in the last quarter, and unemployment decreased further to twenty-one-point-one percent, the lowest reading in nearly thirty years. That’s right, Titanites - things are looking up!”
Julius mentally tuned out the rest of the spiel. TPN - Titan Planetary Network - was government-run, and it served as little more than a mouthpiece for whatever administration currently occupied the government. The economic report was disastrous, just like every economic report before it had been since long before Julius was born. Relia was in the midst of a century-long economic crisis, slipping in and out of recession every few years as economic malaise gripped not only Titan but Relia’s other possessions as well. What had first been termed a lost economic cycle had soon become a lost century, and those born into it were likewise lost. If there was an underlying reason for Titan’s degradation in Julius’ opinion, it was the economy. It was to blame for everything, including why Julius was an orphan.
“Next stop, Sublevel 7, Grand Junction” the metro’s intercom crackled to life. “Next stop, Sublevel 7, Grand Junction. Mind the gap.”
Julius stood up and gripped a nearby pole to steady himself as the hyperlight metro car came to a gradual stop. As the doors shifted open, he hopped onto the platform and strode with purpose. Despite its name, there was nothing grand about the station - it was a rundown place, overhead lights flickering and trash accumulating in every crevice imaginable. Most of the benches were taken up by the homeless who had nowhere else to go.
As Julius exited the metro station, he was greeted by an unexpected sight - a large mass of people. Not only were they gathered and tightly packed up and down the street, they also made a raucous cacophony of sounds.
“Ooh, a protest,” Koda mentally said. “My first one!”
“Won’t be your last,” Julius dryly replied. “How did you miss any of the ones I saw before?”
“I’m not always awake, ya’ know.” Julius could imagine Koda picking the dirt from one of his claws, not that he ever had dirt on his paws. “I nap a lot.”
“I’m not surprised. Fat and lazy.”
“You love me for it.”
Julius did not bother replying as he waded through the crowd. Through the crowd’s loud but unorganized chanting, he gathered that there was some public grievance with benefits being cut. Expectedly so, that would elicit a protest in these times when many struggled from day to day and week to week.
“You feel uncomfortable,” Koda noted. “Is something bothering you?”
“I don’t like protests,” Julius curtly responded, his tone inviting no reply. It was a reasonable response from him. After all, his parents had been murdered during one.
Borsky lived in a small low-rise apartment that sat about three blocks away from Sublevel 7’s Grand Junction station. By the time Julius got to two blocks away from the station, the density of protestors had dropped and street life was normal - or at least as normal as it ever got around these parts. Ignoring the fragrant aromas of street vendors selling food and Koda’s mental begging to stop at said vendors, Julius beelined for Borsky’s building.
Perhaps at one point in time, Borsky’s building had a secure front entrance, but in the present time, its gate swung open with barely a push. Julius slipped into the building and started climbing the flights of stairs that would take him to Borsky’s third-floor apartment. Graffiti covered the walls, and on the landing of a second flight of stairs, a man slept under a ragged old blanket. Nonetheless, Julius ignored everything until he reached Borsky’s front door. Before he could even knock on the metal frame, the door popped open.
“Haha, I'd recognize that face anywhere! Spent way too many hours on it. Come on in,” the speaker beside the door emitted. Julius took the invitation and pushed the door open. Striding in, he came to face piles of junk and garbage - it resembled a landfill and tech junkyard combined. Behind him, the door slammed shut on its own.
“In here!” Borsky yelled from inside the apartment. He sat at a table littered with junk parts as the glow of several vid screens illuminated his pale face.
“My man, Julius,” Borsky said with a toothy grin that was a few teeth short. “How’re you doing? No Papos followed you, right?”
“I’m at least a little insulted that you think a P-A officer can tail me,” Julius replied, standing over Borsky. “Plus, what good would you do me if you’re in jail?”
“True, true,” Borsky nodded. “I suppose you’re here for the mask?”
“And the ID.”
“Right, the ID,” Borsky said to himself. “That part was a little harder. The backdoor you gave me was a little shallower than I would’ve liked, and I don’t think it’ll hold up to an actual forensic analysis, but it should suit your needs.” He fished out a data chip among the junk and handed it to Julius along with a small box. Peeking inside the box, Julius pursed his lips.
“You’re telling me that this is it?”
“Yep,” Borsky smiled. “My latest and greatest - makes the other synthflesh masks I made for you look like bargain bin junk. Julius fished out the mask from the box, examining it with his untrained eye. It looked no different than the other masks from Borsky that he wore before.
“I’ve made improvements. Full head coverage now - it’ll stand up to touch and everything. It even covers the eyes now so you can change the color and shape if you want. I was trying out hair coverage, but that one’s still a little shaky, so I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Impressive,” Julius murmured. “The last one I used was a little finicky. Think I had a dead-eyed look.”
“Yeah, because your eyes didn’t match up with the rest of the face. But this one will, and it’ll hide your underlying features better too,” Borsky explained. He pointed to the data chip. “Plus the ID chip this time. It’s got a birth certificate, dead foster parents, travel history, et cet, et cet. Name’s Jake Tutuha. He’s this hotshot, late twenties, self-made entrepreneur type who runs a sketchy procurement biz.”
If Julius was being truthful, it sounded like Borsky had too much fun creating the persona. “Tutuha?” Julius scoffed, looking at the device. “Really. That sounds a little ridiculous.”
Borsky shrugged. “Just say you’re from the farside or something. No one’s really going to care.”
With a hand, Julius pushed the synthflesh mask onto his face and let the mask feel around his features. He couldn’t see what he looked like, but he could feel the mask molding itself and shaping around his features to look as realistic as it could.
“Mirror,” Borsky said as he held up a small handheld one with a crack running through its top left side. In the small reflection, Julius could see that he was wearing a completely different face - a short stubby nose, thicker and narrower lips, green eyes, and a slightly more recessed jawline.
“Huh, how’d you get the jaw to look like that?” Julius asked as he touched his synthflesh face. It felt just like a real one, even when he pushed on the parts that he knew to be remarkably unlike his real features.
“Eh, a bit of an optical illusion to make it look that way from head on,” Borsky explained. “But there’s also a bit more padding on your face to make it look a little fatter, so I used that to mold the jaw back a little. Makes your whole face look different, I think.”
“The texture’s completely different than the last one.”
“That’ll be the facylite mix that you got me for this. It’s really pulling its weight, I think - pushes the synthflesh feel to the next level.”
Julius - or Jake Tutuha, rather - nodded. Borsky was one of the better dealers of such goods in the sublevels, and his discretion was absolute. His skill in crafting synthflesh masks rivaled many commercial producers in the overworld. Julius would have been hard pressed to find a synthflesh mask of this quality even if he paid top credit for it, and all the wrong people would have known that he bought it too.
“You’ve outdone yourself, Borsky. My thanks.”
Borsky waved it off. “Your creds are better.”
“And I’ll make sure you get your full payment and a little more.” Julius pulled off the mask, carefully putting it back in its box.
“Hey man,” Borsky’s tone shifted, causing Julius to pause. “You know I don’t like to pry, but look, I’m not really sure what you need such an advanced mask for. If I knew, I could’ve tailored it better.”
“Borsky,” Julius said with a serious tone, “don’t concern yourself with that. Just trust me when I say that this mask will do a lot of good.”
Borsky shrugged. “If you say so, man. Just don’t get yourself killed. I can’t be losing my most lucrative customer.”
Julius smirked as he walked toward the apartment’s front door. He was confident in his own abilities, and the one behind his parents’ murder would receive their just deserts.