“Did you just replicate what I did back in the E.Z. using the citronade?” she questioned.
Zel just nodded, answering that, “Using the second gut feels less like exhaling and more like burping it out, just strange. I’ll get used to it.”
“Think you can use it for a better version of your defensive techniques?”
“What, just breathe out a wall of Fog that sends bullets bouncing right back at full force? Yeah, that’d be useful. I’ll have to find out if I can just store a mixture of essentia or a technique in the crucible or if it’s gotta come out...”
The time to explore the true capabilities and limitations of Essentia Crucible wouldn’t come just yet, however, as the door swung open and Strolvath came nonchalantly waltzing into the yard.
He greeted them, walked over, put a letter on the table, and quickly got around to claiming his own share of the hoard. Much like Alcerys, he was pragmatic in his pickings, but took a far smaller share of the Pateirian money in favor of more crystals, some jade statuettes, a larger quantity of the golden amalgam, as well as two pairs of tinted-lens glasses that he found to fit him. One by one he placed these things into a newly-obtained Tablet of his own, answering Zel’s questioning of it with the simple statement that: “Oh they’re not all too uncommon, mass-produced models are all over the place. Let’s just say that it wasn’t ‘til recently that unregistered units have become available, n’ that’s the only ones I trust.”
Then, making clear that he was in a hurry, he left as quickly as he had come.
The letter’s contents were… Stunningly uninformative, to say the least. It functionally just said that the governor would be happy to discuss all of the matters which Zelsys had outlined in her letter to him, and that they should visit him as quickly as possible, but ideally before noon today. According to her scarcely-used pocket watch, it was ten forty-one.
“...Well, guess we might as well go now,” she suggested, sliding her Tablet into the holster and strapping it on before she got up and walked across the yard to grab and put her leg-plates on.
In response, Zefaris strapped on her rifle, and following in her stead remarked, “I’ll tell Makhus where we’re going.”
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And so they departed, walking the same path they had walked before - traversing the length of the promenade, crossing the first bridge, then following that same direction until they reached that familiar street. Everything seemed fine. Almost.
Over and over again, Zel felt this brief flash of someone looking at her - not like a sideways glance, or someone peeking at her and looking away. There was a different sense of flow to those sensations, natural, but this was instant. A singular stare no longer than the timespan of a gunshot, and similarly intense.
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She kept quiet about it until they reached the town hall itself, approaching Collier’s. They entered, closing the door behind themselves. Zef gave Zel a questioning look, having discerned that something was amiss, to which Zel responded: “Someone kept looking at me while we walked. Not the usual way, I mean someone very carefully trying to keep an eye on me without being noticed. I’m not sure what’s going on, or if something even is going on, but be on your guard.”
Zef nodded without question, simply taking it as a matter of fact. “Of course there is something going on, there is always something going on,” said the soldier in the back of her head.
“If I don’t return…” Zel trailed off, fishing up her watch, looking at it, then stowing it away. “...In ten minutes, come to the governor’s office.”
Another nod. With that, Zel was off and Zef turned to browse Collier’s wares, only for the old woman to emerge from the back room no more than two minutes later.
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Meanwhile, in the governor’s office…
“Do I get any supplies?” asked Sodan.
Crovacus nodded, “Basics before you leave - standard-issue gear, food, elixirs, some guns and a war-knife. You will meet with a Kargarian middleman at Rally-point Delta, where you will be provided with a Second-Model Ultracompact One-man Tank. Fuel cells, armament, and ammunition are unfortunately not yet certain.”
A disappointed sigh.
“At least it’s better than nothing,” said the tankman before he looked up and his eyes gleamed with predatory eagerness. “When I get to meet my partner?”
“After you leave, at Rally-point Alpha. As for the time of your departure… Soon. Your passage must be concealed, and an appropriate distraction is imminent.”
Sodan threw out the first guess that came to mind: “It’s a steppeman caravan, isn’t it.”
With an enigmatic smile the governor took a drag of his cigar, leaned back in his seat, and said: “You’ll see what it is when it comes. All of Willowdale will see. Now go, enjoy your time in the city, just don’t go causing trouble.”
And so he left. Sodan strapped an alchemist’s respirator to his mouth, put on the tinted eyeglasses which that brass-eyed drunk with cross hatched facial hair had left behind, and walked out that door. The silence of the town hall gnawed at his senses. Something was amiss, but that something was none of his business.
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Zelsys saw a striking figure step out of the town hall just as she exited Collier’s, his face obscured by a respirator and a familiar pair of tinted glasses, his hair a wild swept-back brown mane. Just the way he carried himself broadcasted a savage presence. So many interesting people, she couldn’t help hoping to fight against or with them at some point.
Crossing the street, she felt that ping of a brief stare again. In the same breath, she also pinned one of the things that felt off. The absence of bureaucrats milling in and out of the hall. No well-dressed, just-barely-wealthy people so stiff they looked like walking fence posts.
And entering the hall itself, it was… Quiet. The subtle noise of officework was present, sure, but far quieter, far more sporadic. It was unsettling. Through the hall, up the stairs, towards the office.