“Uh, well this is a little forward,” Theo replied anxiously as Fiona led the way. “Why the shop?”

“Because I like hanging out there, and bringing you back to my place might be a little awkward. I don’t want Tucker using you as a chew toy for the first date. However, he’s pretty good at being social with almost everyone. That booger loves my landlord,” she added while they walked through the streets briskly, the arcane street lights illuminating their path parallel to the lake.

“Oh.” The fact that Theo was willing to roll with this, was surprising. “So, what does Gregory have to do with the coins?”

“Not directly. My business partner has a…terse history with his father, who is a slippery jerk that has been thumbing his nose at the law for years. He runs ‘legitimate’ businesses. Except, now he wants something from his son.”

“Wait a minute. You’re talking about the head Lockheed, right?” Theo asked, now sounding relieved. “He doesn’t utilize my bank. I think he utilizes Rockwell Financial Institute, or the bank the dragons set up in town. He hates utilizing any bank connected to the rest of the Unified Kingdoms, or so I’ve heard.”

“Theo, I gotta warn you, I think there’s good odds you might have stumbled on yet another weird cog in this machine of Fiefdala.” She hooked right and saw the shop up the street. The shop lights were on, and she glanced at her relay. Greg was already inside. “So, there might be danger.”

“I’ve faced danger. Growing up on a farm, mother and father always had us train with weapons, back when monsters were a little more unruly. I think you might have dealt with some of that problem,” he added with a wry smile.

“It’s also a matter of knowing what makes them tick. I mean monsters want homes and food, too. I have Marthicus slimes lounging around my hot tub,” she added with a laugh. “They make good cleaners.”

“You have slimes hanging in your hot tub?”

“Well, technically, the community hot tub. I like the appeal of it, and Granny and her husband use it, too. She's my landlord.” She marched up the steps and Greg let her inside with a quick wave to beckon them in, and then latched the door.

“Greetings, mister Lockheed–”

“Just Greg,” he sighed, and Fiona could hear the fatigue and frustration in his voice. Greg rarely let himself be seen or heard sounding fatigued. “Fiona, did you bring your date along for this one?”

“Greg? Real talk, we should go talk to Pierre. I think your father’s circulating funny money. Remember how Pierre was saying that a circle of thieves were using ratfolk to steal various trinkets? The one we busted?"

“Yes…I do. But why?” Greg was now at attention on this one.

“Well here’s the thing. I think they were also sometimes replacing the money with fake coins. Theo, show him what I mean.”

“Sure thing–oh my!” Theo gasped.

When he pulled out the suspect coin from the envelope, they saw it had turned corroded and dark, and it smelled awful; Fiona gagged at the scent of rotten eggs, looking aghast. “What happened to it?!”

“I…this is interesting,” Greg leaned in and grabbed a pair of handling gloves they used for moving some of the more sensitive items on display. He poked at the suspect coin and frowned. “Oh, that is interesting. Alchemical degradation. Whatever they did to make these fake coins, it doesn't last.”

“It's been, what, a week?” Fiona proposed. “Or, could it be because I said it was a fake?”

“I…do not know,” he frowned. “We have a more pressing problem. My father is tagging me to be followed. I do not know his intentions, but he is likely going to attempt, yet again, to bring me back into the fold. I think he may try violence.”

Fiona scoffed at that. “Does he think he can get away with that? I mean, does he realize how dumb that would be, with me around?”

“My father gets away with just about everything, Fiona,” he stated deadpan, and looking more serious than usual. “I get rather annoyed at how many second chances that man gets. Hence, my interest in distancing myself as far from him as possible. I worry what he’ll do if I tell him to go screw off this time.”

“He won’t do a thing, Greg. You’ve got me! And Bonnie, and our demonic cactus, and a lethal phase cat, and we’re in a store brimming with magical items,” she grinned.

“Speaking of, why didn’t you just…take the express way here?” he inquired, hinting at her teleport ability.

“Eh, wasn’t sure it would be safe,” she added with a subtle head tilt toward Theo, who was eying this with keen interest. “Theo? Honestly on second thought, maybe we should catch up another time, this is something that doesn’t have to involve you. You should go tell Detective Pierre that we know the coins are bogus–”

“No way. Funny money, you, and one of the biggest unofficial crooks in Fiefdala? I’d like to help figure this one out. Besides, if we do, it’ll be a memorable first date,” he added with a shaky laugh.

“Eh…alright. But at the first sign of real danger? You need to bounce,” she insisted. “By the way, I have to compliment Darla. I do love a good fish and chips place.”

“I know, right? I go there like once or twice a month. I’m a sucker for it,” he smiled. “So, what’s our plan here?”

“Invite Greg’s father in, and have a cordial chat,” Fiona proposed. Greg went wide-eyed at this.

“You have no idea what my father is capable of, Fiona. Or what he is willing to do when he gets fixated on an idea.”

“Well, maybe we should ask him what he wants. Or his henchmen. Greg, this guy is gonna constantly be a shadow on your shoulder, and he’s already allegedly tried to torch our building at least once," she argued. "Do you want to constantly be looking behind your shoulder, wondering whether he's waiting for the moment to kick you when you're off-balance?"

“No, but–”

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“No, there’s not ‘buts’ on this one Greg.” She lowered her tone to far less than her usual animated volume. “Let me tell you something. I’ve had family who thought I disappointed them, or I ran foul of them. Simply because of the life choices I made. They...they didn't have respect for the people who made me happy." She could feel a pang of heartache just from even mentioning that.

He straightened at this, and nodded. “Maybe we should talk this over when we aren’t in present company?” he suggested. “Now, I have an idea of what my father may be doing. He’s trying to study me, find a way to coerce me. He’s good at that. It’s a predictable move of his.”

“So, you think he’s watching us?” Theo proposed.

“I know he is. Right now, Bonnie has the shop warded against conventional intrusion, but there are plenty of magical means to eavesdrop on people. Now, stand back for a minute.” He pulled open his notebook and scribbled something into the pages that Fiona couldn’t decipher. “I am going to try something I haven’t done much. Animated origami.”

“How’s that related to your class, exactly?” Fiona pressed.

“Well, the bruiser class can manifest in many different ways. Because of my love of documentation and using paperwork, and methodical practices…my notebook can do many things.” he continued to scribble, while Theo and her leaned on the counter, looking on with keen interest. “Normally these would be considered a summon of sorts. But what is a bruiser, without an army of enforcers?”

“I think you’re leaning into this a bit much.” But, from his tone, he almost sounded slightly excited, eclipsing his normal dry tone.

“Relax. These little creations are meant to be eyes and ears.” He did one last scribble, and paper flowed out of the notebook like water, cascading down and folding along perfect seamlines. The sound of crisp pages rustling made it sound like she was inside a huge printing press building, like old-time newspaper companies.

The paper formed a spindly, almost cartoon-like caricature of himself, and after enough folded layers of paper were added, it almost looked like Greg. He looked on, proudly, as the paper-like Greg clone stood there, with little drawn-on ink dots for his face.

Fiona whistled at the cool factor on this one. “Okay, that’s pretty spiffy. How often have you done that?”

“Not very. They’re limited in what commands you can give them. You can’t give them complex tasks, so you have to be very simple, and very specific. I can tell this one to walk to a certain place, tell them to wait, and I can see what they see and hear.” he showed his notebook, and Fiona stared.

She’d played Myst. Everyone on Earth had played Myst at some point. What she saw was an animated illustration on the page like a linking book using the imbued ink of the pages to render what the paper copy of Greg was seeing. The ink lines shifted and whirled, almost making a faint audible sound as they swished and flowed across the page. She narrowed her eyes.

“I do not look that crazy-haired.”

“Creative artist interpretation,” Greg said with a smile, while Theo laughed. Greg pointed to him, and the paper automaton followed. Greg then flashed the book to show him, and it showed Theo with nerdy-looking glasses and an exaggerated tie. Theo frowned.

“Oh come on, is my tie that bad?” he complained.

“It’s overdressed, and I love it,” Fiona grinned. “Besides, ties seem to be a fashion in Fiefdala, even for ladies. It's grown on me.”

Theo turned a shade of red before looking off to the side. “W-well, I mean, I did want to look my best on a date.”

“Mission accomplished, Theo. Now, let’s see what’s out there,” Fiona asserted, and looked around by the front entrance. She couldn’t see anything. But, maybe there was another way.

Alright, weight of hearts, go! Wingding, anyone got a heart of lead out there, you know, the kind of people that lead unfulfilling, never-do-well lives?

[See Two. Half full lives] Fiona felt Wingding message her with a series of flaps–admittedly it was a little delayed, but she could feel her gaze gravitating toward a small cluster of shops adjacent to the lake–an old antique shop and a candy shop she may have paid a visit to a little too often. Fiona waved Greg over.

Okay, by Manny's candy shop. I think someone’s lurking. Didn’t see anything, but there’s every power under the sun with the marks.”

“Alright. Let’s see where this goes then. Paper Greg, go sneak over there by the alley and listen for anyone,” he instructed the automaton, went over to the side door, and opened it.

Paper Greg turned into a pile of loose papers, that blew around like they were being carried by the wind. She watched them drift out the door and slither across the brick street, looking innocuous as papers being carried by the breeze of the evening.

“Now, we wait,” Greg stated; he pretended to look busy, and occasionally looking at Fiona and Theo. but his gaze was on the book.

“Think they can hear us?” Theo asked anxiously.

“I think they can see us, but I don’t think they’re capable of listening,” Greg mused. “Bonnie’s wards protect against certain things, but not everything. Alright, let’s see what we get."

The imagery crept back into the notebook as Fiona peered at the notebook, the paper automaton reassembled, and a papery hand pressed against a wall. “Now, move forward and stop at the corner,” Greg whispered to the notebook.

The animation changed, and Greg scribbled something into the notebook. A rune. Fiona was still learning about the runes from Bonnie, but they looked like…ears?

Almost immediately, sound emanated from the notebook, interjected by someone crumpling a paper ball. Her ears twitched at that–it was loud. But, she could hear someone talking with a slithery voice.

“C’mon, why are they there, after hours?”

“Beats me. Boss told us to follow, and see what they were doing. He didn’t say anything about getting up close,” a grumbly voice added, sounding like someone tearing a strip of paper. “You read lips?”

“No. Do you? Then shush.” two men were there, and Fiona gasped. They matched the description of the two people who had roughed him up a few weeks ago, outside the shop, the salamander and Lynxkin. “You know we almost got busted last time we did this.”

“Hans, I wanna go, it’s freezing!” the salamander hissed, and bundled himself up in his coat. “This is a pissing contest between Lockheed and Santino. We weren’t supposed to go in!”

“Listen, moron, if Lockheed’s kid got hurt, we would all have been burned,” the Lynx snarled, while the paper automaton edged by the corner, looking at the two men peering from the cover of a trash dumpster. “Stupid Santinos.”

Greg looked intrigued at this development. “A rival of my father’s, Pierre mentioned them, too” he murmured. He said little else as the two ruffians idly bantered for a minute.

“So we’re what, babysitters? This is bogus," the salamander complained a minute later.

“Lockheed blew it with his kid. He knows it. Why do you think he told us to make sure those barrels didn't blow? They had runes even the fox wouldn’t have seen, and little itty bitty fox bits would have been a really bad scene. Look, we’re lucky the bird didn’t see us before we were done tampering with the lock to force them to upgrade their security. Santino’s guys were in and out like ghosts. Spooky, kinda. It doesn’t help that they just broke up Santino’s smuggling ring. They’re in over their heads now.”

“Hey, I panicked.”

“You hit a teen, you dumbass. We almost got busted. This is why I do all the planning,” the lynx grumbled, before peering through the binoculars. “They’re still standing there. I dunno what they’re doing. They were talking before.”

“What about those coins Pierre tipped us about?”

All eyes turned to Theo, who gasped. “W-what? Why would she do that?!”

“Shush. Villains talking,” Fiona said, putting a finger to her lips. There were other factors at work now. The Lynxkin shrugged.

“I dunno nothin' about that. Santino is running some other game for another player in town. Look man, I keep my head down, and when Lockheed tells us to stick to legit business, I jump on it. This job? I’ll take this job any day of the week.”

“But I’m freezing my ass off!” the salamander complained. “You have fur!”

“Yes, I do,” the Lynxkin grinned. “Okay, there’s a whole lotta nothing here–wait, do you hear something?”

Fiona could hear it too, a crinkling sound that was getting louder. Greg went wide-eyed. “Oh no. I forgot I haven’t practiced these too much. They tend to–”

That crinkling grew louder, and the men turned to see the paper Greg staring at them, and Fiona looked out the window.

“Oh, crap,” the Lynx shouted out as if he knew what was about to happen.

The paper replica exploded into confetti at a distance in the alleyway, and Fiona was already dashing out the door, their stealth blown.

She was going to get answers, as the men sputtered, covered in paper shreds, and she lunged for the Lynxkin.