“So let me get this straight. This guy is your nemesis, planning to conquer the world - and is going to accidentally destroy large chunks of it in the process. He’s already done his level best to kill you once in the past day…. and you want to hire him to be your spy?”

“I know it sounds unusual, but–”

“How much?” Ran cut him off, grinning. “If we’re going to hire a mercenary dark lord pretending to be part of the royal guard, I’m guessing it won’t be cheap.”

Jair smiled, discarding his prepared excuses. “Definitely not cheap. I’ll have to make inquiries. As long as you’re fine being the sponsor, I’ll get the process started.”

Maelstrom shifted uncomfortably in his soul, reminding him that it had been too long since they’d gotten it out into its physical form.

Ran noticed his tightening jaw as he fought back the encroaching erosion and frowned. “You’re sure we can’t find a way to buy that particular sword without revealing its eventual power?”

“We probably can, if you get Ajriol involved, but you can bet that they’ll hold this over you for the rest of your life. I don’t know about you, but Larenok isn’t someone I want having any leverage over me. If we’re going to make a foundation for the timeline that we’re planning to stick with forever, having that hanging over us wouldn’t be my ideal.”

“You don’t think it’d be worth it? At least for a few days?”

“If all we want is a few days, we can abandon Lorsit and Yast and get away clean and free. Even just Yast, since Lorsit isn’t much of a liability.”

“Right, the only reason you keep getting captured is because you insist on going with Yast.”

“How about this. We’ll meet up immediately, transfer Maelstrom so it can have a few days resting out of my incompatible soul, and I’ll…” Jair paused, his grin widening as a thought occurred to him. “I’ll bribe Sekir with it.”

Ran blinked at him. “Come again?”

“Sekir. We were worrying about funding to hire him to figure out how they’re tracking Yast, and how we can block it. Well, if I know anything about the guy, a Legendary weapon is going to tempt him an awful lot more than any amount of money.”

“That feels wrong. What if he does something to it? It’s one thing to have it out of sight, stored in my dad’s house, but to hand it over to your greatest enemy? Whose soulspell you don’t know, whose capabilities are mysterious, whose ability to come back from the dead is the closest thing to an understanding of his strengths that you have? This just screams ‘something is going to go terribly wrong’ to me.”

“Then you can stay with me the whole time, and if something goes wrong–”

Ran shook his head emphatically. “I know you’re used to throwing yourself into things and figuring it out as you go, but in this case I’m going to aggressively insist. I’m not going to let you turn your ascendant soulsword over to a maniac. You fought too hard for too long to get it in the first place, I’m not letting you throw away everything you’ve worked for for so long.”

“I’m not.” Jair laughed softly and elbowed Ran in the shoulder. “Maelstrom, as awesome as it is, is only a tool. What I worked toward for so long was a way to change things. And I have. Sword or no sword, I’ve achieved what I set out to do. This timeline is never going to be the same again. Everything is shifting. I don’t need Maelstrom, not the way I did a year ago. You’re a far bigger cheat code than any Legendary sword.”

Ran gaped at him in disbelief. “So you’re just going to throw it away?”

“Not at all. Maelstrom is mine, a part of who I am, and an essential tool to have for the future. Saving you was only the start. I’ve got more people to save, more dragons to slay, more disasters to avert.”

“Yet you’re ready to hand Maelstrom over to your worst enemy, just to get a little information sooner?”

“Yes,” Jair said, completely serious. “Literally, what is the worst that can happen?”

“He could destroy it,” Ran answered at once. “It may be soulbound, but that only means so much. Soulbound items can still be damaged.”

“He wouldn’t. I know Sekir, and he’s not the type to throw away any potential advantage. That scenario has no chance of occurring. Far more likely is that he would look for a way to re-bind its ownership to himself.”

“And you’re still okay with this?”

“It’s not nearly as easy as you imagine to unbind a soulbound item, or to change its allegiance. True, if I gave Sekir full access to Maelstrom, if I put myself into his power, and gave him months to work with full power over us both? He might be able to do it. I wouldn’t call it a guarantee, but I wouldn’t bet against it. But a few days? A week or two? No. It’s good that you don’t underestimate the threat he poses, but I know the hard limitations of magic better than most. Something like Maelstrom doesn’t change so easily.”

Ran squinted at him suspiciously. “You’re not just saying that to get me to let you be an idiot, right?”

Jair laughed. “If your goal is to prevent me being an idiot, then I’m afraid you’re a few centuries too late.”

“I’m not going to let you dodge the question that easily.”

“No need to be concerned, I’m not trying to deceive you. I would never risk Maelstrom ending up in Sekir’s hands for good. I shudder to imagine what that man could do with a sword like this. No. This is a perfectly safe trade, one which will be beautifully ironic, and which spares us needing to go through the whole argument of convincing Ajriol to spend a fortune on a mercenary dark lord.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Okay. I trust you. Let’s go steal a sword to give to a dark lord so he’ll spy on his co-workers for us.”

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They had the basic infiltration down to a science by now. If not for the problem of ‘they can follow Yast anywhere’ they’d have been done and gone long before.

Jair, Ran, and Lorsit met up back in Astralla City afterward. Lorsit handed over the bundle of blank swords. Jair ran a hand across them until Maelstrom zipped down to transform itself, promptly rejecting him physically, but the release of having the angry sword out of his soul was worth the sting of it pushing him back.

Ran was ready. He caught the falling blade in a length of holding-cloth, wrapped it up neatly, then handed the bundle back to Jair.

Yast had already been captured, and it would be hours or days before Sekir showed up.

"Anything exciting to do while we wait?” Ran asked.

Jair grinned. “Want to help me go shopping? I’m looking to make an impression.”

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Sekir had just finished a rather dull interrogation, filled out his report for his employer as usual, and was about to leave to get back to his obligatory search for Prince Orren when a flash of movement caught his eye.

A stranger stood in the alley across the road, beckoning him closer with one hand.

Sekir glanced over the man, prepared to dismiss him as another pointless beggar on the street, but something about the man's bearing gave him pause.

He wore an ornate and expensive blue robe, of the sort rarely seen outside high families with noble connections, if not nobility themselves. It looked new, perhaps even custom tailored. Yet the man wearing it lounged against the grubby wall of a tavern with the air of one neither troubled by the location nor concerned about being robbed.

Sekir nearly dismissed him as a rich brat who thought he knew more than he did, but that assessment too didn't quite feel right.

Intrigued, Sekir meandered over. He was still wearing his Hyperion outfit, which made the whole situation all the more unusual.

"I understand you're a person who can get things done?" the stranger said without preamble.

Interesting. Sekir didn't realize his Sjorlain persona had attracted notice yet. Ordinarily, only those in his direct circles knew how to contact him. Other people knew to go to the handful of people who knew how to contact him, but his name and face were not widely known. Never had he been directly approached like this.

"That elf in there," the stranger jerked a thumb toward the building Sekir had just exited. "He's a friend of a friend, and I need to know who traced him and how."

"I'm sorry, sir, the Hyperion Guard do not divulge information about our suspects. If the elf is being held, rest assured it’s for good reason." The obligatory lines came naturally, without any hint of irony.

The stranger smiled ironically regardless. "Oh, I know that. I'm not here to hire the Hyperion Guard. I'm here to hire you. And I'm willing to pay in advance. I understand that you’re a man of your word, and if you tell me you can find the information I want, I have no qualms about handing over sufficient remuneration on the spot."

Sekir raised an eyebrow at that. People willing to pay upfront were rare enough, let alone those he'd never met before. Clearly his reputation had gotten out of hand. Not in a bad way, hopefully, but it would require investigation.

"I don't think you understand the gravity of what you're asking for. The Hyperion guard is not so easily bribed as you seem to—"

The stranger whipped a bundle of holding cloth off his back and unfurled it in a single quick jerk. Light flashed and glinted as a weapon like nothing Sekir had ever seen before fell to the ground with a ringing clang.

"I think you'll find that my payment is sufficient to recompense any difficulties you may suffer as a result of this investigation."

Sekir did not often find himself speechless. A man in an alley casually throwing a legendary sword on the ground did the trick.

He stared at it, Inspect giving him the details that would have required days of experimentation to obtain otherwise.

─ Maelstrom

─ Type: Ascended Soulsword (3rd Form)

─ Rank: Legendary (15%)

Imbued with the pure energy of Mount Sanctum at its ascension, this blade has transcended its humble origins and become a weapon of *****?

Slaying an ancient poison dragon has altered this weapon, empowering it with its venom and flame.

– Class Requirement: Mageblade

─ Bound to Jair Welburne

"I know it's bound,” the stranger said into the silence, “but I trust someone of your reputation can find uses for such a thing even if it is more challenging.”

Wellburne. Not a family name Sekir was familiar with. Foreign? No, it sounded Veori, though not anyone of enough importance to have shown up on his social or political radar.

The man carelessly tossed over the holding cloth, and Sekir snatched it from the air reflexively.

"So. Can you do it?"

Sekir’s eyes remained locked on the magnificent weapon lying between them. Sure, it was misshapen. Bound to some stranger. And only at 15% integrity.

But legendary. Most people never saw a legendary item in their lives. Sekir had seen several, but never held one. Certainly never owned one.

The initial shock wore off as his mind started sorting through the details. Sekir looked up sharply. "This is soulbound. Doesn't that mean the owner can summon it back at will?"

"Oh, you won't have to worry about that. The owner is in no position to be using it at present, and won't be around long enough for it to become an issue."

Sekir did not doubt the man's sincerity for an instant. His levels of respect for this stranger increased by the moment.

"Who are you? Why have I never heard of you?"

"You wouldn't. I've been around a long time, but I prefer to stay in the shadows. I know more about you than you know about my whole family. But, that's a conversation for another time. Right now I only have one thing that I need." The man raised a blue-robed arm and pointed at the Astralla Hyperion station. "Who tracked the elf, and how."

Sekir knelt down and carefully wrapped Maelstrom in the holding cloth, ignoring the faint sparks of disapproval he could feel even through the weave. He knew that if he ever tried to wield the weapon, such as some fools had attempted by shaping holding cloth into hilt covers or similar such nonsense, the weapon would react much more violently than this gentle warning.

The prospect of the challenge excited him like little had done for so long. He’d always wanted to figure out how to unbind something from someone else's soul. Never had anything worth the time.

The stranger smirked. "You look like you just were handed your firstborn. Can I take that to mean you're accepting the job?"

Sekir stopped gazing down at the sword, feeling suddenly awkward. Not a feeling he was used to. Professionalism restored instantly, he nodded. "I'll have the information for you in three days. Do you want to meet here or elsewhere?"

"Here is fine. I'll see you then."

Sekir couldn't wait to begin experimenting.

This would make his exile to the desert so much more interesting.

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