Victor’s father once said that the first step to getting another man on your side was to approach things from his own perspective.

Victor’s other father — the dead one — said that the first step was killing him.

While Victor was inclined to listen to the former, he had to admit the latter had a point — as long as you were also a necromancer, that is.

Not that Victor would recommend it. Necromancy was what had gotten his biological father killed. Well, to be fair, it wasn’t just being a necromancer, as the man had also razed several villages, only to bring back the inhabitants as undead thralls…

But that’s not to say that Victor’s adoptive father was the perfectly upright, model citizen that he outwardly appeared to be either.

As Victor steered them through the busy streets of the capital’s mercantile district, he spared a glance back to the rear of the enchanted carriage where his adoptive father reclined against the midnight black, velvet cushioned seat.

Lord Harvey. Master alchemist, beloved philanthropist, and esteemed educator — as well as the mastermind of a respectable portion of the organized crime in the Vistani Empire’s capital city.

“Eyes on the road.”

Hastily returning his attention to the task at hand, Victor made a sharp turn to the right just in time to avoid missing the intersection entirely. They were almost at their destination — La Isla Bonita, arguably the capital’s finest public casino.

He was still struggling to get used to the enchanted carriage. The whole thing was powered by some fancy and ridiculously expensive alchemical engine instead of beasts of burden, which Victor suspected was more a display of wealth and ingenuity than a truly practical design.

As they continued down the block, Victor couldn’t help but marvel at just how different this part of the city was from the areas he was familiar with. No trash strewn across the ground, no broken windows, no bodies slumped under doorways and in the alleyways.

And the people were clean, and pretty looking, and wore frilly, colorful clothing that probably cost enough to feed a whole family for a week.

He didn’t belong here.

But almost strangely, Victor didn’t actually feel out of place. His own clothing was plain, yes, but it was clean and finely crafted, and he was accompanied by a man whom most of the wealthy passerby could only dream of ever being equals to.

And besides, he didn’t need to truly fit in.

He just needed to fake it.

Pulling up to the curb of the left side of the street, Victor stopped the carriage right at the foot of the ruby red carpet extending out from the gold and glass doors of the casino. A valet looked up from his little wooden booth, standing up from his stool and hastily approaching the carriage as Victor shifted it into the park mode.

The crisply uniformed young man eyed the vehicle with barely contained curiosity, and Victor couldn’t help but smile. Perhaps this would be the highlight of his workday.

Unlatching the door, Victor stepped out and fetched a couple coins out of his pocket. “You know how to work this?”

Taking the coins gratefully, the young man nodded, before retrieving a ticket from his own pocket and handing it to Victor. “Sure do.”

Taking the ticket, Victor idly inspected it while circling around to the rear to help Lord Harvey out. Number six seventeen. While Victor never had the opportunity to learn to read and write, he did have the good fortune of being taught numbers — as well as how to work with them.

Opening the door for Lord Harvey, Victor patiently waited as the elderly alchemist retrieved his cane from the other side of the carriage. There really wasn’t much involved in helping Lord Harvey out — Victor was really just there to make sure that he didn’t fall, or to help him in any way if it proved necessary.

It usually didn’t.

This time was no exception, and Lord Harvey was on his feet just a moment later. The valet started the engine, pulling off slowly — rather gingerly in Victor’s opinion.

Walking side by side, the two men began making their way up the vivid red carpet. Just before they reached the doors, Lord Harvey stopped and turned to face Victor.

“Do you remember what I said is the most important part of the plan?”

Victor didn’t have to think. The maxim had been drilled into his head from the very first day he started working for the crime boss. “Brave men die in glory, but cowards live.”

His elderly companion nodded in approval. “Good boy.”

Again and again, Lord Harvey had demanded that at if any time, it looked like things were going to go wrong, then they were to bail out. You can always try again if you aren’t dead.

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After taking a deep, steadying breath, Victor took hold of the heavy, ornately wrought golden handle and pulled it outward, holding the door open for Lord Harvey to enter.

Stepping inside himself, Victor had to struggle with himself to not marvel with wide eyes at the interior of the casino.

Trees — actual, living trees sprouted up from the lavish, emerald green carpet, their highest branches reaching upwards to just barely graze the dazzling crystal light fixtures hanging far overhead.

Delicate, softly glowing paper lanterns adorned their silvery branches, and finely dressed men and women mingled between their slender trunks, eating and drinking and blowing obscene amounts of money on card games and dice and shiny enchanted machinery.

But it was obvious that Lord Harvey was completely and utterly disinterested in all of that. With surprising speed for a man of his age and poor health, the philanthropist made straight for the central reception desk.

While at first glance the arrangement of the trees seemed purely organic and completely random, a closer inspection revealed that their placement was quite deliberate, as in combination with the patterns of the carpet, they created a subtly winding path which brought one by various game tables, gambling machines, and refreshment services.

While it wasn’t immediately relevant at the moment, these were the kinds of details which Victor had been training himself to pick up on.

As the pair came within speaking distance of the snappily dressed clerk servicing the front desk, the perfectly styled, middle aged woman looked up and flashed them a friendly, yet subtly tight-lipped smile.

“Welcome to La Isla Bonita!” She clasped her hands together, and Victor couldn’t help but take note of her exceptionally stiff posture. “Is there anything I can do to assist you gentlemen?”

Placing both hands atop his cane, Lord Harvey straightened his own posture and tilted his gray-whiskered chin, fixing the clerk with a keen yet vaguely disinterested gaze. Victor knew not to underestimate the degree of attention the old alchemist was devoting to assessing the entire situation, however.

Lord Harvey coughed, before retrieving a cloth from his long, scarlet coat. Wiping his lips, he spoke with a voice like wet gravel crunching underfoot. “We have an appointment with Lord Grantly.”

Straight to the point — something that Victor had to admit he greatly appreciated about the man.

Not that he didn’t have his particular customs. While the crime boss made a habit of superficially treating his accomplices like family, Victor understood early on that the relationship was… rather utilitarian.

Lord Harvey treated Victor well, and that’s because the older man understood the value of respect and loyalty.

Despite the warm words, Victor knew better than to expect his boss to go so far as to provide him with his own Focus, like a wealthy father generally would for his son. No, Victor would have to work for a Focus and therefore a Class himself — even if Lord Harvey’s kindness was better than none.

And unlike the familial ideal, if Victor were ever to betray that loyalty…

Snapping back to the present, Victor watched as the clerk nodded and dialed a code on the enchanted relay on her desk while simultaneously leafing through a stack of papers.

“Lord Harvey, I presume?”

“In the flesh,” the alchemist grunted.

Nodding, the clerk glanced back down at the relay. “It appears Lord Grantly is ready to see you. If you would please follow me, we can process you through security.”

Rounding the side of the large, semi-circular desk, the clerk beckoned for the pair to follow her deeper into the casino.

As they followed her, Victor caught sight of a black-haired young man almost identical to himself — down to the imperial academy uniform he was wearing — playing on a cheap slot machine.

That would be Lord Harvey’s other accomplice on this particular job — Pierre.

Even his facial features were identical to Victor’s — or more accurately, Victor’s were now identical to Pierre’s, as Victor’s current appearance was the product of extensive fleshcrafting work which Lord Harvey had financed approximately nine months prior.

Wishing to be able to make use of identical twins, but not satisfied with any he could actually find, the crime boss resolved to make his own.

Victor didn’t allow his gaze to linger. Their bold plan relied on no one looking too closely and making note of the two young men’s striking similarity.

He didn’t completely avoid looking in that direction either, of course. One of the most important skills to learn in this trade was how to straddle the line between acting suspicious and trying so hard not to be suspicious that you looped back around into being suspicious again.

In most cases, Victor felt that a helpful trick was to keep in mind that innocent people had things to do and places to be — they had a purpose. Trying to be too casual or idle made you look like you were up to no good.

The second part of the trick was figuring out both your real purpose and your supposed purpose, and then identifying the ways in which they aligned and diverged.

It might sound a bit complicated, but it wasn’t really.

It just took practice.

Soon Pierre was out of sight and they were almost at the security checkpoint. Victor didn’t try to hide his nervousness, allowing himself to run a hand through his long dark hair. That was another thing — it was perfectly ordinary to be nervous when approaching armed guards. Innocent people felt that way all the time, and the guards were used to it.

Nevertheless, Victor decided to take his mind off of the pressure of the heist briefly by analyzing the two guards standing watch on either side of the single entrance to the vaults below. One entrance, one exit — kept separate to better manage gating the traffic in and out.

Both guards were equipped with enchanted swords, but Victor was fairly confident that only one of them was a Focus — the one belonging to the man on the left.

Probably a melee combat class, judging both by having a sword as a Class Focus and by his build and the particular style of his hybrid plate armor.

As for the woman on the right… Victor wasn’t so sure. He could be wrong about her sword, but it didn’t quite draw the eye in the way that hinted at the back of your brain that you were seeing something so deeply tethered to the System.

The intricately patterned, clawed mitt on her right hand, however…

The trio stopped several paces away, and Victor forcibly tore his gaze away from the two Focuses. He practically couldn’t help but stare — it was pretty much every kid’s dream to one day have the coolest, best focus ever. And it would be Unique, of course — something special that no one else had, and everyone else would be envious.

But Victor considered himself an adult now — even if he weren’t legally one yet at just sixteen years of age — and such dreams felt like mere childish things now.

He would be overjoyed with getting a Focus at all — even the lowest grade, most common Class would allow him to make an honest living, and perhaps even rise above the ranks of his original station.

Now, Lord Harvey had given him a chance at realizing that dream, and Victor wasn’t going to waste it.