Paracelsus breathed into his hand, preparing to enact the next step of his plan. He then turned to the windows, finding a small patch where only one guard was stationed outside. He touched the wall, turning a small portion into a handheld hook. Using the hook, he looped it around the legs of the marine and pulled him inside, at which point the marine found himself on the business end of a multitude of weapons.
Tariq was the first to venture out, cloaking himself so he could get a good look at their surroundings. He saw a light sparkle near the apex of the city and deduced that it was probably the glint of Sarabi’s bow, primed to fire when she caught sight of them.
“We’re still being watched.” He confirmed, dropping back under the floor.
Paracelsus stood in thought for a moment, gripping hsi chin as he looked at the marine on the ground, now bound. Then after some moments he nodded and replicated his clothing onto all of his companions. Together, they all stepped out of the building, and the captain repaired the hole as if they were never there.
“Oi!” A marine shouted behind them, which caused them all to stop in their tracks, “Where do you think you’re going?”
“We were given orders by,” Paracelsus didn’t turn around, “The lieutenant, to block off the roads out of the city.”
“But no such order has been given.” The marine replied, walking up to the group.
“I guess this goes a little above your head?” Paracelsus offered, opening his arms exaggeratedly as he finally turned around.
“And who exactly are you?”
“There, the criminals!” Paracelsus shouted and pointed. When the marine turned around, they all made a break for it, running as fast as they could.
“Get back here!” The marine shouted. They vacillated a few times in their mind before turning around again to get the rest of his command, rather than chase them on his own.
“They’ll definitely be locking down the roads now,” The captain said, “We’ll need to hitch a ride soon.”
“What about the ship?” Gareland asked.
“If anyone’s religious, I’d suggest you pray.”
“That’s your plan?” She shot back.
“No - the plan was for you to stay on the boat,” He turned to address them, and saw that soldiers were mobilizing behind them, “Now we hope.”
—
“May I sit?” Graave gestured to the spot next to the Medine’s patriarch. When the man cocked his head toward it, the lieutenant decided to sit down.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked, dismissing whoever he was previously speaking to.
“The troops are organizing,” Graave groaned at the aching in his back, “So I thought I’d take a moment and chat.”
“Chat?” Medine asked.
“Chat.” Graave confirmed and pulled out a letter, “One of my soldiers wrote a small report. Peeares, the angel with me, is he to die?”
Medine sighed in annoyance, taking the letter and reading it over, “Yes. All I can tell you is that it will be in a crypt, nowhere around here.”
“One more thing then - can your predictions be wrong?”
“It’s not impossible. That being said, I wouldn’t rely on it.” He tapped his fingers on his knee for a few seconds, “I hope you haven’t forgotten why you’re here?”
“Of course not, sir. Thank you for your time.” Graave groaned and pushed off his knees.
—
“Here you go, good man.” Paracelsus handed a bill to a carriage driver, as a trusted vendor, the driver was able to smuggle them out of the city without issue.
Now, they were at the national bank. The town it was in was relatively small, far from the bustling port city of Bataine, just forty minutes away sat a quaint little village, of which the bank was no doubt the economic center.
“Just closed, sir,” The teller said as the group approached the bank, “Please come back tomorrow.”
“It’s very urgent, sir, please.” Paracelsus urged, his hands together in begging.
“I’m sorry, sir, we’ve just closed.”
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The captain leaned in close and brought his mouth to the banker’s ear, “Here, look,” He produced a briefcase from behind his back, “I’m with the marines. There’s been concerns of counterfeit bonds.”
“Sir, there’s a crowd forming.”
“Then let’s go inside.” Paracelsus pointed his palm to the building like he was inviting the teller inside his house.
“Can I offer you something to drink? Tea?” The teller made for the group to sit.
“That would be lovely, thank you.” Paracelsus sent the teller on his way, and beckoned Tariq, who was standing by, cloaked in invisibility, to come near, “Take all of the bottles, and while we occupy the teller, go with Serpacinno and get what we came here for.”
“Who’s Pryus Tyburn?” Gareland asked casually, as if she was inquiring about his dinner plans.
“Where did you learn that name?” Paracelsus looked around, hoping to see any sign of the teller.
“On the ship earlier. He showed up and started rambling about something.”
“Yeah - that’d be him.”
“And who is he exactly?”
“He’s a priest I used to know,” He pointed to the door, which was clicking, “The teller’s coming back.”
“Sorry about the wait,” Gareland looked between the two men, unsatisfied with the answer, “Where is your third?”
“She ehh, went to smoke.” Paracelsus dipped his head in thanks before drinking the tea, before opening his briefcase, “But, as to the actual reason I’m here…”
—
Serpacinno and Tariq stood at the door of the vault. Inside, supposedly, was not only three point four million Iraloan mimar, but several dozen safety deposit boxes and, most notably, an interior vault owned by one particular Medine.
“Here.” Serpacinno held her hand out for the bottles, and mixed the dust with a small amount of water to keep it adherent to the door. Then, with a quick flick of a match, the whole mixture caught alight, burning with a silent intensity that astounded the onlookers with its orange glow, “Holy shit.”
Various denominations of mimar sat in front of them, piled semi-randomly into huge stacks of multicolored capital. Just breathing in the air of the vault seemed like it should cost something, what the wealth flooding into your lungs. Serpacinno, against the directions of her captain, and in spite of her good judgment, shoveled a few hundred into her pouch.
“And it’s not even the main event yet.” Tariq commented, thumbing through a few stacks himself, noting their almondy smell.
Speaking of, they were thankful there was no need for a deep investigation to find what they were looking for. A large silver door, adorned with gold trim, clearly demarcated the inner secure vault from the rest of the room. Applying more of the watery powder, Serpacinno struck the match, more than enthused to take what they could.
—
“And that’s the point I’m getting to,” Paracelsus pointed to one of the bonds he’d held in his briefcase, “These bonds were issued in 1721, twelve years ago. I get why they can’t be verified by smell, but the inking’s all wrong.”
“I understand sir, but how does this apply to me?” The teller replied, himself verifying that the dyes used were all too recent to have been printed over a decade ago.
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. These were the bonds we were able to recover, others like this were paid out at this bank.”
Before the teller could even formulate a response, the whole room was interrupted by the sound of screeching. Paracelsus immediately recognized the sound - whatever Serpacinno had just burned into was made of screaming metal, the type that makes a loud, piercing noise when subject to physical deformity. The teller recognized it too, and pulled a gun he kept hidden on the underside of his desk.
“You’re not with the marines, are you?” He asked.
“Admittedly not.” Paracelsus leaned back in his chair. There was a gun pointed at him, but if his companions had any sense, it wouldn’t be for long, “But what can you do? There’s three of us and one of you.”
“I have the gun -” He tapped Paracelsus on the forehead with it, which disoriented him, “Move.”
They summarily arrived at the vault, whereupon Paracelsus was made to enter first, followed by Gareland, “Good, you’re here,” Serpacinno said, not turning around and seeing the danger, “This damn steel won’t stop ringing my ears!”
“We have to shut it down,” He said, trying to think of a way to communicate the situation, but Serpacinno didn’t even seem to hear him, “We have to shut it down!”
“Down?” She turned around and saw the teller with the gun. Then, she looked over her shoulder, and saw the mostly empty vault was now being pilfered by some unseen force, “I see.”
“I can’t believe my luck,” The teller said, “I’ll certainly be getting a nice bonus for this one.”
“Oh?” Paracelsus raised an eyebrow, “Is that what this is about? Money?”
“Everything in this world is about money.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” Paracelsus made a big show that he was empty handed, and slowly reached into his jacket pocket, producing a small clip of bills, “Fifteen dollars. Is that agreeable?”
“I know you got much more than fifteen dollars from what you robbed.”
“Astute,” Paracelsus reached back into his jacket, “Fifty more dollars ought to cover it.”
The teller grumbled as though he wanted to ask for more, but decided against it, took the money, and let them leave. Tariq joined them outside, beaming ear-to-ear with pride when he revealed the shield he’d come for. He was so proud, he flipped it up and round several times, showing it grow and shrink as he willed it.
Paracelsus extended a hand to him when he looked content, and Tariq immediately took it, “You’ve been a great companion, Tariq. Best of luck in the future.”
“What… do you mean?” The young man asked back.
“I thought you were only sticking around to find your shield?” Paracelsus was going to hand him a cigarette for the road, as was custom in final partings in his culture.
Tariq took it regardless and struggled to light it, despite his best efforts, “Oh, yes,” He started hacking and coughing, “Well - I just figured, you know…”
“You have nowhere to go?” Paracelsus patted him on the back.
“No - that’s not it, just -”
“We have to go!” Serpacinno shouted, “The marines could be here any minute!”
“I’ll leave it at this -” Paracelsus puffed his cigarette in time, “I don’t particularly want to be responsible for you. You’re a good kid, but a kid nonetheless.”
“I can take care of myself, I think I’ve proven that.” Tariq followed him as he went about getting a carriage.
“You shuddered at the prospect of taking a woman hostage,” The alchemist explained, “I’m going to have to do much worse. I wasn’t lying to Sarahne - I’m not a good person.”
“I will endure!” Tariq shouted as his captain started to enter the carriage, “These past few days have shown me who I am.”
Paracelsus sighed, he knew it was the ethically wrong decision, he knew he shouldn’t encourage this irresponsibility, but he sighed “Alright, get in.” When Tariq was fully seated, “I can’t coddle you. You’re going to see the raw, dirty business you’re party to.”
The ride back was silent, for the distance they traveled; they only made it fifteen minutes before they came upon an entire caravan of marines. It seemed the dirty business was catching up to them quicker than they could have thought.
“If you keep driving, I’ll double your pay,” Paracelsus handed out a few guns to each of his crew, “For future reference, I think we oughta buy a horse.”
“Hold on -” Gareland put her hand up after taking the gun, “Are we seriously shooting at the marines?!”
“Back in Yuriol we fought with them, ain’t that right?” He nudged Serpacinno with his elbow, and she responded by rolling her eyes.
Gareland was far from the only nervous one, though. Tariq was shaking like a leaf in the wind and Serpacinno rocked her knee impatiently. Regardless, now it was do or die, and there was no giving up.