Absorption 2.5.3_Poisonous Fox

A/N: The Blessings are no longer visible, their UI was subsumed by the Symbiote. In the word document, this was somewhat more apparent, as the font-color was a very light gray. However, when transferred to several sights, this font color choice was eliminated. Hence, the note here. In the past few weeks, the only major difference Jackie has seen was to Dancing and Athleticism. Technically, these improvements should have been numerically shown at the start of 2.5, however, most of those chapters were built around non-stat engagements. The deltas are instead shown here.

*****

Athleticism I: 3/9 (+1)

Courtly Dancing: Treachery: 4/9 (+2)

Flexibility: 6/9 (+1)

Symbiotic Parasite (aka false-arm)

4 Tendrils, approximately 1.5 yards in length, unspooled.

Talents:

* Athleticism I (3/9) (+1):

* Climbing I (5/9)

* Featherlight I (4/9)

* Inversion (2/9)

* Gymnastics (4/9)

* Stealth I (8/9)

* Trackless Tracks I (4/9)

* Area Coverage (6/9)

* Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)

* Eschiver I (3/9)

* Evasion I (2/9)

* Impending Sense (4/9)

* Lucky Break I (1/9)

* Chance Encounter (2/9)

* Courtly Dancing: Treachery (4/9) (+2)

* Flexibility (6/9) (+1)

Spells:

* Illusion I (5/9)

* Touch (8/9)

* Guise of the Kitsune (8/9)

* Closed

Gifts:

* Obsession (4/9)

* Closed (0/9)

We only had to duck aside twice to avoid traffic. Given that we traveled with two Meohr in our group, our presence would have been noteworthy, despite the fact that we had yet to break any laws yet. The subterranean utility tunnels beneath the hill known as Baron’s Estate were public, at least so far as we had traveled thus far.

As we traveled, Belobog led the way, using her powers of detection to alert us to any signs of trouble. The tunnels were wide enough for the twins to walk abreast, though they did so at the rear. It left my scalp itching, leaving my back open and unguarded. However, if I could not trust them to guard my back now, then I could hardly rely on them later, when it mattered.

Although, I had yet to see what the twins could do, and they were large enough, that should they trip and stumble, that their crashing into me would hurt. Hypothetically. Suddenly, I felt a bit more nervous than I had already been, though I comforted myself that the floor of the tunnel was regular enough that our footing ought to have been guaranteed.

Would their hooves find better purchase or worse? I wondered.

Ay had already bruised the back of my heel with her carelessness, although it was not as though they could see where they stepped. No torches had been lit, though natural lighting was provided by infrequent vents to the outside; the light that filtered through came tinted in hues of green, from the vegetation used to conceal these unsightly fixtures.

At least, the tunnels had been poorly lit, until we came around a corner and found several Peacekeepers lounging in front of a gate. It was a checkpoint, one of the two that we had accounted for. Afterall, one could not simply waltz their way through Baron’s Hill using the utility tunnels.

In an ideal world, I would have infiltrated the force of additional servants that Baron Ore employed with the party, and I would have traveled in with them. Especially since it was these servants that I would be using as a cover. But, it would have been impossible for me to slip in with this cadre of servants before-hand. They were apparently all one group of indentured slaves, pruned for their beauty, etiquette, and subservience. They could almost be considered as a contracting group of caterers, at least this world’s equivalent. However, as they were tight-knit, they would have quickly noticed an outsider masquerading among them.

Hence, I was now traveling towards Baron Ore’s manor along with Belobog’s crew and approaching the first checkpoint.

The Peacekeepers of course had seen us during our approach, even if we were still largely obscured by the poor lighting. However, this was nothing beyond the usual for them; they continued about entertaining themselves, loudly talking amongst themselves about crude topics.

I did not allow myself to falter in step, though I was sure to quickly scan each of these men standing guard, for I had some detrimental history with the Peacekeepers. However, I recognized none of them, and I breathed a small sigh of relief at that.

Of course, the fact that I failed to recognize them was no surety that they would fail to recognize me. My hair was quite distinctive, afterall. Though this risk was largely negated by our planned contingencies.

The previous night, while going over possible plans, several alternatives had been proposed to ameliorate the problem of checkpoints.

Bee, of course, had offered to fight them, which would lead to a brutal and noisy slaughter, at least according to the others who knew him. Ay had counter-offered with a distraction of her own, but while the provided details of such a distraction had been lacking, apparently Belobog and Bee knew her well enough to be quite disturbed.

I made no suggestions myself. Of course, I could have snuck past. Or, I could have dropped my Guise and relied upon Illusions alone.

But… none of the crew knew I wore a Guise. Nor did they know my full capabilities. As they lacked my trust, they lacked my confidence. Belobog might have known more than she let on, but she said nothing revealing, either as a favor, or because she also preferred to keep assets in her back pocket.

In the end, we went with Belobog’s original proposal, as she likely had known beforehand.

As we approached the Peacekeepers, I began to have second thoughts regarding the necessity of any plan.

The Peacekeepers idled within strong light that cast glaring shadows and which ruined their night-eye and offered ample opportunities for stealth. With their loud discourse, they would be provided no opportunity to detect the padding footsteps of any would-be thief. And of course, it was telling that I could smell the alcohol when we were still quite a distance off.

This left me with no doubt. I could have snuck past them, with none the wiser. Locked gate or not.

But, even if I could have gotten past them, it would be difficult to sneak the two Meohr in.

It was while I regarded these Peacekeepers with much derision that Belobog went about her task. She had paused, frowning in concentration. Her temples glowed beneath her headband, largely filtering out the light emanating, though I could still make out a slight greenish hue to it.

At the risk to Belobog’s concentration, Ay snickered and interjected, “Yo, B,” she said. “You having fun?”

I winced at the sudden volume from less than a step away. Fortunately, Belobog was not caught by surprise; at least she avoided startling and revealing herself mid-task. She finished several seconds later, and at that point answered Ay. Notably, Belobog grimaced.

“You say that,” Belobog griped. “But after dipping in there I feel like I need a bath, yeah?”

“That fun, huh?” Ay asked. “Anything… y’know…” she eyed her brother in amusement as she emphasized the final word, “kinky.”

Bee snorted in an unamused fashion.

Meanwhile, Belobog largely brushed the question off, although I noticed a slight shudder before she did so.

“Let’s go,” Belobog said, giving her head a slight shake, before thinking better of it, and then adding, “If you’re not careful, I’ll show you what I saw later.”

“Ha!” Ay crowed. “You keep threatening me with a good time–”

She likely would have continued, but her brother cut her off when he placed a dinner-plate sized hand on the back of her neck and squeezed, if ever so slightly.

“Not on the job,” he said. “Keep it for later.”

Even then, Ay still found it within herself to cackle, although she did refrain from further discussion.

Belobog scoffed and resumed her pace forward, leading us in a brisk fashion towards the checkpoint where the Peacekeepers awaited; their discussion had ceased at some point during Belobog’s work.

As we came near, we noticed that they were all staring with blank faces and slack eyes.

Belobog came right up before them and snapped a finger. “Henry!” she called sharply. “The gate.”

One of the Peacekeepers, presumably named Henry, startled.

“Sure thing, sir,” the Peacekeeper said.

“Anything you wanna tell us?” Ay asked Belobog, likely having noticed the misgendered statement.

Of course, Belobog ignored this and focused on the gate.

Ay shrugged and humored herself by waving her hand before one of the Peacekeeper’s faces. Their slackjaw stare remained unaffected.

Meanwhile, the Peacekeeper named Henry ducked inside the alcove carved into the wall of the tunnel and activated a mechanism of some kind, as the gate began rolling to the side.

“Finally,” Belobog said, a note of irritation audible within her voice. She snapped her fingers at the rest of us. “Hurry up, would you?” she said. “If I have to reapply the compulsion because you dawdled about, your cut will be docked.”

“Huh?” Ay asked, somewhat shocked by the threat, before hurrying to catch up and pass through the opening gate.

It was after we had all made it through that I felt emboldened enough to comment.

“We made it past easier than I expected,” I said.

I thought I did a fair enough job concealing how disturbed I felt at watching Belobog invade the sanctity of that Peacekeeper’s mind. Although, I comforted myself in that she had done so to him, for us, and not to me, for her. However, her revealing that capability seemed almost a warning against betraying her. I wondered if that was intentional. I almost directly inquired.

“Don’t get used to it,” Belobog muttered. “Direct manipulation takes a lot outta me. Already I’m starting to feel it,” she said, rubbing her temples for emphasis. “Maybe I have two or three more of those in me before I’m out.”

“As in, you’ll depart?”

“As in, passed out,” Ay corrected.

“Yeah…” Belobog hesitantly agreed. “What she said.”

I decided to politely press for additional details. The more I knew of her capabilities, the greater my comfort remaining in the same city as her.

“I also noticed that you used that man’s name?”

“Yep,” she said, not elaborating further.

I pushed slightly more forcefully. “And this name,” I said. “Did you already know this, or was it revealed to you?”

“Blergh. Names are pretty easy. It’s at the surface of a person’s identity.”

“And the reason he called you sir?” I asked. Belobog presented as female, and left no doubt in regards to her gender, both in bearing, in body, and in vocal inflections.

“It’s easier to tie commands to something they remember. That way I’m connecting two bits, rather than creating a whole new bit from scratch. Easier on the person too. Less…” she made a scrambling motion.

“Indeed,” I said.

Internally, my level of discomfort only grew, and a part of me regretted requesting additional details. I had not realized she could ruin a person’s mind in such a way, though it made sense, as she had already shown she could directly influence a person’s thoughts and memories.

“Is it… easy to do so? Scramble a person’s thoughts, I mean.”

“Why… worried?” Belobog asked, shooting me a grin over her shoulder as she led the way.

“Perhaps so,” I admitted freely.

An answer came from the stoic Meohr behind me. I should not have been surprised, as the topic neighbored his interests, if only tangentially.

“No reason to be,” Bee said. “She can’t do it in combat,” Bee said, more of a grunt.

“How so?”

“Takes too long,” he further elaborated, although using as few words as possible.

Belobog snorted. “Sure, if a person sees it coming. But like you just saw, that isn’t the case most of the time.”

“Unless they get a drop on you,” Ay added, somewhat seriously.

Despite the fact she was a meohr, and much larger than a human by default, she carried herself with the agility of a rogue, while fondling a short-sword which she wore like a dagger.

“Course you said that,” Belobog said.

Personally, I found it curious that such a large person as Ay could have been a practitioner of stealth. There must have been a Talent or Magic involved. No other means would make sense.

It was as I wondered at the physics of Ay engaging in stealth that we reached another checkpoint where Belobog performed the same trick as she had with the previous checkpoint. After that, we were traveling under the inner ring of the hill called Baron’s Estate.

It was when we were in the final approach to the actual baron’s estate that the twins peeled off, and Belobog patted my shoulder.

“You got this?” Belobog asked me.

“Indeed,” I said, before adding with some amusement. “It would be a poor time to back out, regardless.”

She scoffed in an aborted laugh.

“Yeah, you said it,” she said. “Don’t forget to get changed first. Remember the rest of the plan?”

“Naturally,” I said. “This would not be my first,” I said.

“Yeah…” Belobog trailed off. “I would love to pick your brain sometime about where you’ve been. Seem to have a lotta skills, yeah?”

I frowned when she mentioned picking my brain, as she had the tools to do so literally and without consent.

She chuckled when she saw my face. “Not like that,” she grinned. “You’re on my crew now, which makes us friend-adjacent.”

She sounded like she would have used ‘friend’ as a standalone term, before she remembered that I would never fall for such a simple manipulation.

“You don’t mess around with friends like that, yeah?” she clarified, as though I were some dullard.

I sighed. “I lack the context to know,” I said dryly. “However, you said friend-adjacent, not friend.”

She blew air from her lips in an unflattering manner. “Same thing. Anyways, I gotta get to my station, make sure the twins behave. You sure you’re good?”

“Yes,” I said, already finding an out of the way branching tunnel to change into the caterer’s uniform. “I am good.”

“Golden,” Belobog said, departing and disappearing in the shadows herself.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

From there, I was on my own.

The final checkpoint was manned by the Baron’s own force, an elite cadre of Peacekeepers. In contrast to the previous two checkpoints, at this one the Peacekeepers maintained professional silence. One remained within the gate-house itself, while the other two kept rifle-like arcbows, artiificed guns, pointing downward at the ready. The least professional person here in appearance here was actually a clerk of some nature who sat behind a table pushed to the side of the enlarged passageway.

I approached in my uniform, my false identification at the ready. Quickly I scanned the guards’ faces. None of them were recognizable, which would likely mean they would fail to recognize me. And with the setting changed, while possibly an unsafe bet, usually increases the difficulty of recognition.

“Another one?” the clerk asked as I came near. “I had thought you had all arrived together when setting up.” I found it somewhat surprising that the clerk appeared to be the one in charge of admission, and not the professional looking guards.

However, this was where a difficulty occurred in my credentials, my falsified story, so to speak.

As the catering workforce was external to the baron’s live-in servants, they would not recognize all of them by face. However, the other catering servants would. Thus, I was forced to arrive separately. We had considered this, and I had an excuse at the ready.

“I was forced to oversee external preparations,” I falsely explained. “Now that they are done, they are to be arriving later. But seeing as my labors there had finished, I was sent to ensure all remained ready here. And that my peers’ decorum remained high.”

“Eloquent, at the very least,” the clerk said, before frowning. “But why would you be sent separately?”

“Do you mean to inquire regarding the reason I was sent without that which I had been delayed to prepare?” I asked with the slightest smirk.

The clerk nodded, unknowingly falling to my trap.

“It would be unfitting for me to question those above my station,” I said with seriousness. And as I referred to myself as a servant, and as this clerk was likely one of some sort, that would mean he and I were peers of a sort, which would mean that ‘my station’ also referred to ‘his station’ and that further questioning these falsified orders would risk upset of etiquette. Perhaps Master Plum’s lessons have been useful, afterall.

“...right,” the clerk said, coughing and then straightening his doublet behind the table. “Well, on you go. We won’t hold you.”

“My thanks,” I said with a slight bow, before walking with confidence through the open gate, ignoring the eyes of the Peacekeepers as though they were absent.

From there, I progressed inwards. Up the stairs I went. They emptied onto a garden courtyard towards the back of Baron Ore’s manor.

It was here that several servants in the baron’s livery were maintaining the garden, with one cleaning windows, another tending towards the lamps, and a third raking gravel and sweeping an already clean stone floor. While all of them glanced my way, it was the one who was sweeping that found me first.

“Running a bit late?” the sweeper asked.

I nodded, not needing to vocalize further.

He chuckled ruefully and shook his head. “How you didn’t get the lash for it.”

I may have made an unpleasant face, as the man corrected his tone and avoided making further small-talk. However, I now felt compelled to provide something of a reason, in fitting with my current guise.

Thus, I explained, “The task which delayed me was by design and intent. However, I do require your assistance,” I said, requesting his input in an intentional manner. Asking for help switched the narrative, making it less likely for the servant to raise any sort of alarm.

“Oh?” he asked, interested in falling into the narrative, likely without realizing he was doing so.

“Would you perchance be aware of my peer’s location?” I asked, referring to the other catering servants.

“Same place as always,” they answered in a less than helpful manner, though not that I could inform him of that.

“Ah.” I said, nodding knowingly, though internally I was only vaguely aware of where they likely were, guessing the kitchens and entertainment hall. “My thanks. I will be off then.”

They nodded.

But as I went to move past them into the main manor, he clicked his tongue to get my attention, then nodded his head towards a side wall.

“If you got here with the rest, then that was before guests started arriving. Might wanna use the side passage?”

“Would these guests not be here entirely too early for the engagement?” I asked, not faking my surprise.

“Yeah, which is the problem.” His flat tone made this sound as though it was common knowledge. In hindsight, it was likely that the servants took such things into account as they performed their duties. “The guests’re bored.”

With the look he gave me, he felt that what he implied was common sense. Which meant I could not challenge him for additional details. So, without completely understanding why, I followed his advice, and I made a detour towards the side passage with which he had directed.

Once I was inside, I marveled at the decor. Especially as I was in the less important side passages. The halls carpeted, lined with tapestries and awards, with ceremonial weapons mixed in.

Thankfully I had memorized the blueprints, otherwise I may have found myself lost in the sprawling tangle of hallways and gaudily gilded walls and doorways. Unfortunately, my memory may have been slightly lacking, as I found myself somewhat turned around. It was at this point that I heard a voice that I would have rather not. It was smooth, alluring, and masculine.

Instantly, I knew who this was, and my veins felt frozen with this recognition. Of all the passageways that I had to travel, it just had to be this one. For the voice belonged to none other than Velvetcall, the Vigilant with the power of compulsion.

Chance Encounter: 3/9 (+1)

If there was one saving grace to this situation, it was that he currently resided within a sideroom. This meant I could in theory bypass him, should I be quick enough. However, bizarrely enough, the door to this room had been left open. The reason this came as bizarre was the scandalous nature of the occupants’ current activities.

The sounds, the groan, and the rhythmic vibrations traveling the floor left little to the imagination.

I felt ill.

This was not something I wished to be exposed to.

Rather than risk walking past the open doorway, I turned about and made to immediately backtrack and retreat.

But, my luck must have turned. For it was at this point that I found myself a mere fifteen feet away from another Vigilant, although I was not familiar with them and I failed to recognize their costume. They were female, but not Guesswork. It seemed that she had been approaching while I had remained frozen. Naturally, my sudden turnabout would have raised her eyebrow.

And as she ran her eyes over me, her eyebrow was indeed raised.

“Oh? A servant? Here?” she asked, smirking in what felt like a condescending and nasty manner. “And one who’s offended by her betters, perhaps?”

“My apologies, my Lady,” I said, bowing my head. I was unsure if I used the correct mode of address, but guessing too high was better than too low.

“Words do little to soothe my pride,” she said, fanning herself and making an awkward scene. My scalp began to sweat from the tension, although I allowed naught to affect my expression.

At that point, Velvetcall spoke outwards towards us, although he still continued his activities.

“I hear your voice?” Velvetcall called out, the rhythmic motions and grunts not abating while speaking, though his voice may have been slightly strained. “What’s keeping you, Jess?”

“Oh, you know. Found a servant here. She was just leaving.”

“Oh? How’s she look?” he asked. “Scale of one to ten.”

Revulsive. Briefly, I revisited my desire to avoid needless slaughter and bloodshed. Certainly, some deserved horrific fates.

She considered me as though I were a piece of meat. She tapped her chin. “A solid eight. Possibly broaching the nine, depending on how she’s dressed.”

“Hm. Well, more the merrier. Bring her in?”

“Ah. Well, I was hoping I could find my needs fulfilled first,” she said, giving me a sadistic and hungry look that left me feeling nauseous.

“I guess you’re the one that found her so it’s only fair you go first. Make sure not to spoil the face though before my turn. You know I’m not into that sort.”

I needed to get out of this.

“Oh, I know how squeamish you can be,” she said while giving a despotic grin.

I needed to get of of this, immediately.

“My apologies,” I cut in. “Many apologies,” I said frantically. “But my duties demand immediate attention–”

She held a hand as though to stop my pointless drivel.

“As if a servant’s duties take priority,” she scoffed. “Were I a less understanding woman–” she was a teenager at best “-I might punish you for such insolence. However, I would be loath to ruin such a pretty face. At least before…” she licked her chops. I wondered how she would behave if I vomited across her costume dress.

I had allowed my disgust to cloud my perception, and things grew just slightly hazy. It was this for which I accounted for yet another woman coming upon us prior to me realizing their presence.

“Is this how Her Highness’s Vigilants behave?” a stern woman’s voice interrupted whatever plans this horrible girl had been laying.

Chance Encounter: 4/9 (+1)

The girl flinched, turned quickly and gave a curtsy.

“Lady Trigg! I did not expect you here, otherwise–”

“-you would have avoided embarrassing yourself, yes, I am aware.”

It was Lady Trigg’s voice that had finally caused a change in Velvetcall’s activities. But rather than terminating prematurely, the door to the room in which he was fornicating gently shut, granting some modicum of privacy, although none here could have been fooled by the pretense. However, his ploy seemed to have worked sufficiently, especially as Lady Trigg’s attention had landed solely upon the girl.

She buckled under the weight and stammered to excuse herself before turning and fleeing from the stern woman.

I found myself at a loss for words as well. I had not forgotten Lady Trigg, nor the horrific time I had spent as Princess Marissa’s guest, before I had fled the Wastes, before I had created my Guise.

After giving me a dismissive glance, Lady Trigg scoffed. “Do not expect me to save your chastity a second time girl. Go about those duties that you claimed.”

I found myself stammering as well, curtsying, silently thanking Master Plum for the forced etiquette practice, and I fled Lady Trigg’s presence.

Soon, I found my bearings near the outskirts of the reception hall. It was here that the actual catering servants scurried about, and it was here that I was forced to dodge them the best that I could. The Baron’s household might not recognize me as an imposter, but the caterers, I feared, would.

With my skills in stealth, I found it easier than anticipated to dodge direct line of sight. There was always some obstruction I could find to track between them and I, and I had an almost sixth sense for their range of attention, if not their line of sight. I knew when to move, and when to blend in with the wallpaper, so to speak.

Actually finding the baron’s personal wing was both easier and more difficult than I expected. I knew roughly where it was, up on the second floor of the Chasm facing side of the manor, but what I had apparently missed was that the floor below this was occupied by several of his ‘elite’ Peacekeepers. I had one close call where I just avoided a man with heavy footsteps coming from down a hallway around a corner. Thankfully his footsteps had given him away, but I could not always be so fortunate, and I would be a fool to rely upon fortune to begin with. The man himself might have been a captain of the Peacekeepers, or at least one of the ranking officers. He had a fine enough uniform to fit in with the rest of the party at least.

But otherwise, I climbed the stairwell and found myself in the baron’s living wing. He shared the floor with his wife and son, along with several maids which I suspected may have been concubines. Fortunately, he and his family were otherwise diverted by the festivities, and the servants themselves had made themselves scarce in the meantime.

I found the door to his office and picked the lock within a couple dozen seconds. Without so much as a second glance, I slipped in and shut the door behind me, relocking it as well, in the event that someone decided to check.

The chamber I found myself in was a receiving room, with chairs and idle reading material. Other than ostentatious decorations, not much else was worth stealing here. There was a secretaries desk, which might have had potential blackmail material, but this as well was a lesser target. Instead, I ignored all of this and found the door to the baron’s actual office, where he would sit and presumably perform whatever labors a man of his status pretended to perform.

Of course, the door was locked. And of course, it quickly gave way, although this lock featured a handful more pins than the last, and it required a full minute to disarm.

But then, at last, I was in. I entered where he kept his desk, his bookshelf of expensive vanity tomes, and at least several lockboxes of jewels and raw Spirit Stones, as Belobog called the uncut glowing bits that filled out Chargers.

However, even these, as valuable as they were, were not my primary target. No, that was reserved towards the Grimoire, which was orders of magnitude more valuable and priceless. It was also the major incentive that Baron Ore planned to use when encouraging mercenaries to fight and potentially die in his alleged upcoming contest.

It was only natural that such a valuable and irreplaceable artifact would be kept hidden and sealed. It was also only natural that a nosy psychic such as Belobog would have discovered this, along with the code to unlock the safe.

With this knowledge pre-supplied, I already knew where to go and where to look.

I went to the desk and crouched beneath it, pulling aside a square of carpet. A latch door. I lifted it, revealing a safe. It was a combination lock, which Belobog had somehow given me. I assume she had gotten near enough to the baron at some point, or that she had a plant on his staff.

The door to the safe was not pointing upwards, meaning that it would be all but impossible to access the sunken safe, let alone the lock itself. I lacked time to sufficiently investigate this, but it seemed clear that something was missing.

The safe had to be accessible somehow, I could not imagine the baron would lack a method of opening it. And considering that the safe’s door would swing into the wall of the pit in which it rested, there must have been a method to extract or lift the safe itself.

A quick glance at the top of the safe revealed no handles, and the gap between the walls of the pit and the safe itself were barely wide enough to slip a finger through.

I felt the floor shudder ever so slightly as somebody walked through the hallway. The shudder was faint, but coming nearer. I continued investigating, as the quicker I figured this safe out the quicker I could make my escape. And besides, whoever it was that I heard, this person was merely traveling the hallway, although their gait was heavy and confident.

I ducked out from beneath the desk and reframed my point of view. If I were the baron, then I would be resting on a plush chair, resting confident in my secured treasures beneath my feet. I sat myself in the chair, looking over the office as he would likely see it.

While it would likely be intelligent to remove any ability to access his treasures altogether, until they were required for whatever reason, I knew that this was not how people thought, especially not those suffering avarice. No, they typically enjoyed observing, counting, and rubbing their greasy fat fingers across their priceless artifacts. There was also typically some paranoia as well, which could only be abated with confirmation that the treasure remained in their possession. All of which necessitated a means of accessing the safe.

So, as I sat in the baron’s chair, I looked for something within arms reach.

I felt across the seams of drawers and then under the desk itself. There was a slight gap in the planking, which was noticeable given its polished nature.

I followed the gap until I arrived at one of the drawer interiors.

Of course, this drawer was locked.

Fortunately, this lock was accessible, and the sort that was easily picked.

Less than a minute later, I had the drawer open.

The loose Chargers slipped into an interior pocket, along with several opened and partially resealed letters that most have been of import. Other than those slight gains, after exposing the bottom panel, I found that there was another seam where there should not have been.

I felt around, tapped the panel, and noted the hollow sound.

I could have broken through the false panel, but that would make far too much sound.

Besides, such brute methods were unrequired, especially as I could see a spot on the bottom panel where the wood’s polish had been marred and worn, evidence of skin-oils contacting the wood at a high frequency. I pushed down on the same spot. There was a pop, and half of the panel lifted up. This exposed a flat cavity along the bottom of the drawer, along with a horizontal lever that laid plush to the bottom.

A fairly elaborate system, I noted. And one that seemed largely ineffective as well. It seemed almost foolishly simple. But then again, the baron was rumored to be of middling intelligence. However, he ought to have hired a competent specialist to protect his most treasured goods. All of this failed to matter however, as when I toggled the lever, the safe lifted from its resting pit, the entire thing on an elevating platform. Within ten seconds, the safe had been fully exposed, filling most of the cavity beneath the desk where a person’s legs would normally go.

From there, I got to business. The entire process from discovering the safe to now had taken less than five minutes, and I felt confident that time enough remained to pick the lock apart; especially as Belobog had apparently stolen the code. Checking the door of the safe, I found a spinning style tumbler with indents dividing into fourths, and each fourth into fifths. Notably, and to my irritation, there were no numbers labeling the notches.

That surprised me. I would have thought the baron far too slothful to rely upon muscle memory when unlocking the safe. However, Belobog had still given me a code, a series of six digits, which would necessitate that the tumbler have a starting position.

Without touching the tumbler itself, I examined all sides of it, until I found a slightly deeper notch, which I presumed marked the starting position, or zero. Gently, I twisted the tumbler, feeling the micro-clicks as the mechanism worked its way across the springs. When the starting position lined up with the only existing marker on the surrounding door, I begun inserting the code, although I was forced to perform some math on the fly.

The first position was easy. To insert five, I twisted the tumbler clockwise for that same number of micro-clicks, until I felt a bit of pressure resisting the final motion. The bit of pressure was expected, as a spring was being compressed and a pin lifted until sliding into a holding position.

The second position was a bit different. Eighteen. As I had already reached five, were I to continue spinning clockwise, I would only require another twelve positions. However, this style of tumbler required me to reverse directions, spinning counter clockwise, until arriving at the eighteenth position. This meant I was forced to add five to eighteen and then subtract from the total number of notches, which in this case was eighty. I spun counterclockwise fifty-seven times, although I encountered the slight pressure increase a notch earlier than I would have guessed. This in itself was not too unusual, as typically these sorts of tumblers had some inexactness to them. From there, I went clockwise, then counter, and so on, until finally, I approached the last position, which I anticipated to provide a satisfying release to the lock.

But as I hit the final position, the resistance never happened. I continued twisting slowly, and it was another three notches later, that I hit the expected resistance. Only this time, it felt heavier than it ought. Still, I had little recourse but to commit, unless I wished to brute force my entry into the safe.

Thus, I twisted, overcoming the hitch in resistance.

It clicked.

The door mechanism thunked, but remained shut and locked. A slight crackling came from the door.

Internally, I swore. That was not what a lock should ever sound like. This entire setup had seemed bizarre and laissez-faire, so I should have known that there would have been one last protection, and I should have known that the baron could afford a hidden thing.I was not even sure what that thing was, except that it likely was artificed, but other possibilities existed in this world.

The crackling finished within seconds, before I had even finished my thoughts, and the sound concluded with a faint pop and then a silver chime. I smelled a hint of ozone.

Somewhere on the floor below, I heard a loud voice, almost a bark, but not quite. Then, I felt the footsteps moving quickly, at first away and travelling fainter, but soon climbing and coming closer.

It had been a trap.

The safe remained locked and shut.

Mothersworn Belobog! I swore internally.

Of course the baron would have a countermeasure against psychics. She had probably been fed a fake code without her even realizing it, and with her ego, she would have never anticipated the possibility that she had been tricked. Though this was an elaborate trap, if that was what it was. No, I found it more likely that the baron had several sets of codes, only one of which actually worked, and all the rest triggering the alarm.

Not that this revelation would do me any good, for an alarm had been raised, the Vigilants were in attendance, the Knights as well, and the Peacekeepers that were actually competent occupied the space beneath my feet.

All this, and the safe still remained locked.

My false-arm, my symbiote, coiled and twitched, responding to my sudden stress.