Ravela sat studying in her small library room. But she was focussing on her current subject. Her mind was running a thousand ideas and plans by her while she tried to memorize a bunch of geography terms that weren’t all that exciting to her.
Keeper Namon opposite of her had already noticed that Ravela wasn’t paying full attention to the materials they were working through. It was all the more impressive that she still managed to absorb and get most things correctly upon repetition. That didn’t make it less frustrating to watch in the slightest, however.
“Why don’t we call it a day here?” Namon shook Ravela out of her introspective.
Ravela's eyes unsteadily sought out Namon’s face. Like she had been rattled out of a deep trance. “What why?”
Namon scoffed at her. “You might be able to learn and brood over your problems and worries, but if I may be so frank. It is hard for an outsider to watch you do it. So why don’t we stop with the geography here and tackle the problems on your mind?”
Ravela leaned back in her chair. “Am I that easily read?” She sighed at her emotional transparency. “Guess I will have to work on that. I want to build a home for myself. I want to settle down, have a profession, be part of a community, and experience life. I find myself torn. I need to help and guide those that changed because of me, but I yearn to have a life of my own.”
Namon leaned in. The question of Ravela building a life here intrigued him.
“If you want to build a life for yourself you need to think about what would bring you happiness and fulfillment,” Namon said trying to be helpful.
“As far as I am concerned I could do almost anything and be happy as long as I had a place in this world where I could retreat to. A place to call home,” Ravela paused for a moment. “No, that isn’t true. I- I want a job where I work to protect people. I need the feeling of bettering the society I live in. Just yesterday alone made me feel like I had more impact on someone than ever. It felt good to…do good. That sentence must sound bewildering to you, Namon. Till now, whenever I made an impact anywhere… Let’s just say I am, for the first time, free to have a positive influence, and I do not want to miss out on it.”
Namon slowly interlocked his fingers and placed both his thumbs under his chin. “Yesterday left quite the impact on you, didn’t it? Helping others sounds like stopping criminals and saving my friend felt like a noble purpose for you. That…is a good thing, but not every day as a man of the law will be that exciting, you know?”
Ravela fought the smile growing across her face futilely. “Me, a police officer?” She tried to deny what Namon had divined without effort. “Yes….that thought had occurred to me. It might seem odd to choose that line of work, but I feel a peaceful life or the life of a keeper would suit me. No offense, but I am not the passive type. Too used to be in the thick of it and I don’t think I want to change that.”
Namon nodded, understanding that a keeper’s life was not for her. “If we ask Sheriff Thorn, I’m sure he would help you however he could. Even write you a letter of recommendation if you apply for Pliada City Police. That is if you get a certified high school diploma and gain citizenship through the court. Luckily we don’t need to wait for all that to start working on a plan, right?”
Ravela studied the man’s face and posture. He had taken her not being human well. She felt a kinship with him. It felt better now that Ravela at least had one person who knows she was.
“I want a place of my own,” Ravela declared. “I want it near Pliada city. It has to be a great property. I got 200,000 dollars for it. If you know of anyone who needs to sell a property and a house with plenty of land around it, I have the means to pay good money. If you find someone interested…well…I at least think that is a huge amount of money.” Ravela stumbled over her last words as she realized she had not the slightest clue if that could even get her a small house.
Namon’s eyes bulged. “You have 200,000 dollars? How in the world did you come by that much money?” His shock was plastered through his voice, face, and the fact that he had jumped up from his chair.
Ravela felt a tingle of shame as she confessed. “I went to La Heumö, remember?”
“You’re telling me that you won 200,000 dollars there?” Her co-conspirator asked, doubt thick in his voice.
“No. Nono. I have won roughly 800,000 dollars.” Ravela confessed.
Namon bolted fully upright. Ravela could see the gears in his head turn. It took him only a moment to figure out how Ravela won that much money. “You- you cheated, didn’t you?”
Ravela folded her hands and twiddled her thumbs. “I wouldn’t say it like that.”
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The keeper gave her a stern look. “So you didn’t use the fact that you can manipulate objects to your advantage to win huge amounts of money?”
Ravela hung her head. “Okay, so I won by manipulating a ball into going into the right number a few times. I am not proud of it and don’t plan on doing it again,” Ravela smiled apologetically. “If that is cheating I suppose I cheated.”
Namon looked at her like a disappointed parent. “That is a lot of money. What are you planning exactly?”
Ravela relaxed, Namon seemed willing to let her off the hook for now. “I want to buy a big plot of land ideally with a house on it. Gonna build a workshop there maybe a garden too. A place where I can train those that gained powers through my actions to be a good influence.”
Namon remained standing rubbing his chin. “I could reach out to other keepers in the area. If there is a family that wants to sell their entire farm they probably have heard all about it.”
Ravela liked the idea of buying the farm of people down on their luck and using her ill-gotten goods to make their lives better by not haggling the price down. It would make her feel better about the way she got the money in the first and second place.
“Okay, then I will make some phone calls and see if we can’t find you, someone,” Namon stated.
Ravela packed her things and said, “And I will try to catch a bus in town. talk to the sheriff. I know what I want to do once I am a fully recognized citizen.”
Namon and Ravela left their library hideout.
Ravela went to the marketplace to wait for the small shuttle bus that drove every odd hour. She would visit the sheriff.
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Morbolfr entered the hospital room rage bubbling under his glacier mask face. His yellow tattoos spoke volumes about the kind of man he was, to other Swaddy. Greipr’s face fell when he saw who had come.
“Good evening Mr. …Slöhgson, I am Morbolfr Krone. Your father sent me here to represent you. So please, tell me everything you remember.”
Greipr sat on his hospital bed both legs hanging in their respective casts, his hands were handcuffed to the bed, and the police officers outside the room to complete his humiliation gnawed at him. “I honestly don’t know what happened one moment everything goes according to plan then someone chokes me out in seconds, and when I woke up both of my legs are broken and Burgus somehow failed and got arrested too. Tell the boss the cops got themselves a Super. Nothing father will read in that report will be accurate.”
Morbolfr listened to his colleague patiently. Their families allowed them to work in their father’s organization for one reason; results, and he had no plan of going back to the main family business. He had a family now. It had been over a decade since he last had to work on a case for his family. That it now had to be for his smooth-running group troubled him.
Morbolfr snapped back to the present. “Alright, here is what you will do. Don’t talk to the cops, not one word,” He pulled out a letter with his business card attached to it, “They will try to act dismissively and will still try to ask you questions. I want you to catch that on tape if you can it will be of good use to us,” Morbolfr slipped him a modern voice recorder with a tape in it, “I suggest you start the tape before they enter the room and throughout it running be on your best behavior while it runs. Put it in the half-open drawer over there and the conversation should be audible.”
Greipr shifted in his bed. “What about Burgus?”
Morobolfr shrugged. “Nothing we can do now. Not getting the clearing dose will probably be the end of him. We can’t risk smuggling it in for him into Block C.”
Greipr showed off the handcuffs apologetically. Morbolfr put the device in the drawer himself and tipped his hat before going outside. “Officer, my client is not a flight risk. You have to release him from at least one of those cuffs. It would be appreciated if it were both seeing as he can’t run but in the name of compromise one seems a reasonable request.”
The police officer looked entirely unwilling to compromise, but then again the man in the bed won’t run away, he couldn’t. Morbolfr smiled at the officer. “I understand your unwillingness, but it would be a shame if in our trial the treatment of my client would come up as a reason for prejudice. So a small kindness could go a long way to avoid grief for your colleagues at trial,” Morbolfr winked at the guard in a way that only a seasoned conman could, ‘Listen to me I am doing you a favor here,’ it said. “We understand each other, right?”
The policeman gave him a doubtful look but he obliged after a small pause. “Mr. Fäng, the officer will be removing one of your handcuffs, please do not run away,” Morbolfr bid his goodbye to his client his eyes already on the next project.
He walked slowly through the hospital. He put his thoughts into order and took the stairs, avoiding any detectives who might wait outside by coming out of the emergency room exit. Morbolfr's face showed a slight grin. There was no chance he let them glean any insights from him by having words with them now.
There was a new ladle in their pot and it stirred the soup the wrong way. Morbolfr found a payphone and started dialing. “Bo, Mor here…Hello little princess, can you give your daddy the phone? Thank you, Madi.” He was surprised that the little girl had picked up the phone. Morbolfr cleared his throat while he waited.
“Mor?” His boss asked while picking up the receiver.
“Hello Beorg, are you free? I would love to invite you to dinner to catch up,” Morbolfr intoned their well-studied no-business business talk.
“Madi, my little star, go tell mama I will be missing dinner tonight. Thank you, Madi,” The boss sent out his young daughter on a mission. “Sure Mor sounds great. How does 7 at Korga’s new place sound? I’ll tell Winnie too, we long wanted to find an excuse to eat there.”
Morbolfr smiled and played along, “What Korga opened a restaurant? You gotta be kidding me. Where?”
He could hear Beorg sit down in his creaking old armchair. “Oh, you know in Pliada City right in the center opposite the big old temple all out of white stone. Called it the Safe House, the zealots aren’t happy, I tell ya. Word on the street is their food is divine though, unlike the drivel they talk about in that pompous monstrosity.”
Morbolfr laughed at the thought of Korga serving something edible. “Okay, so Korga owns it, but there is no way he is the one swinging the pans and pots in there. Who did he talk into manning the kitchen? His grandma, his stepson that good-for-nothing lazy ass, because I can rather see that happening that chain-smoking Korga cooking something that isn’t entirely black.”
Beorg laughed a hearty low-rolling laugh. “You’re close. His youngest daughter just finished her apprenticeship in Big Ulundi. Came back a star chef. He’s been bragging to whoever he could, I am surprised you haven’t heard yet.” There was a pause. “Oh, hello princess. What, Mama wants to see me? Of course, I will be right over. Go tell her, please.” There was a short ruffle as Madi jumped back down from her father’s lap and a door closed. “So today then. I will tell Winnie, as I said. Come hungry, I am not kidding the food is excellent. Adö.”
“Adö, Beorg,” Morbolfr said shortly before he heard the signature ‘click’.
Morbolfr now had to explain to two family heads why the traitor and former bookkeeper of two families is still alive. On top of that, he had lost Greipr and Stummor. So far, they had been the most effective team. Losing Greipr would have been one thing, but losing Stummor, the bulletproof strongman, was a terrible cost for his organization. Luckily he had many families that could supply him with new members, but a new Stummor wouldn’t come along easily.
A resigned sigh escaped Molbolfr's mouth.