Detective.

That single word was enough to momentarily send Adam into a state of shock, although only just for a moment. So what if she’s lying about her profession? he reasoned. I didn’t come here on a casual visit – I came here expecting tricks, treachery, and backstabbing. This is par for the course.

With that in mind, there was still a chance the woman actually was a scholar of some kind. A person with a Detective Talent didn’t necessarily need to become a detective. She may have simply chosen to use that Talent to aid in her true passions.

Either way, he meant to find out.

“I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting many scholars before.” Adam smiled at the woman – at Valeria. He approached slowly, adopting the noble, self-assured countenance that he’d often seen in Aspreay’s court. “Talents of that nature rarely bless us in Penumbria.”

As he spoke, Adam watched the room for reactions. In a scenario like this, aboard an isolated ship with unknown passengers, exchanging words was just as much of a battle as using Stained Ink against the Ghost. Even his seemingly innocuous greeting had been carefully-phrased to ferret out information while masking his own lack of knowledge. Was Valeria pretending to have a literal Scholar Talent – assuming it existed – or had she just chosen a job that was ‘close enough’ to her natural abilities?

It wasn’t impossible for the latter to be true. For example, Tenver possessed an Archery ability, but he was currently a knight who practiced swordsmanship. Adam had never seen him use a bow at all. Then again, Tenver was a weirdo who could easily be the exception to any number of rules. It was hard to tell for sure, and Adam refused to let anyone know how ignorant he was, lest he seem weak in their eyes.

Maybe it’s unfair, but everything here is untrustworthy just by virtue of being here in the first place. Even Solara admitted that going to the Mines was risky, and she pushed for this plan. Anyone insane enough to meet with the Puppets HAS to be up to something. Figuring out who’s a threat is how I’ll stay alive.

The thought gave him pause. It sounded too prudent; almost bordering on cowardice. Especially when Adam had already forsaken the notion of survival for survival’s sake.

Figuring out who’s a threat is how I’m going to win.

That felt better.

“Unfortunately,” Valeria began, in a courteous tone, “scholarly Talents are rarely granted patrons, my lord.” She was tall, Adam realized, nearly six feet when standing. However, she’d hunched her back and lowered her shoulders to reflect their disparity in rank. “Your predecessor had a disdainful opinion of my kind.”

Ah, so you’re pretending your Talent is ‘Scholar’. Interesting. Most people can’t call you out on that. “Lord Aspreay lacked appreciation for many things.” It was mostly that he’d lacked the Orbs, honestly, but it was better for Adam to highlight the differences between him and Penumbria’s former lord. “My city’s policies have since changed. If you are interested in acquiring patronage for your studies, then I’d be glad to discuss the matter further.”

Immediately, Adam noticed Valeria’s expression tighten ever so slightly, as if she was putting up her guard. He searched her eyes, finding no excitement over the prospect of patronage. Her voice, however, was easier to fake. “Oh, my lord, do you mean it?” she asked, with an inflection that was low-pitched and excited.

“It would depend on the topic of your studies,” Adam said, widening his smile. “But I am always in need of skillful scholars.”

“Oh, my lord, your words are too kind.”

Valeria’s pause, and the way her eyes met Adam’s were clear as day; she’d picked up that he was doubting her. While he hadn’t said anything particularly incriminating – at least not that he thought – her Talent was Detective, so he wasn’t too surprised. Should I back down? Maybe if I play it off like I’m dumb, she’ll just assume I’m just an idiot. There’s advantages to that. He gave the option due consideration.

And rejected it.

He wanted to press forward.

“There is no kindness intended, only truth.” Adam’s smile didn’t fade, but he narrowed his eyes at the woman by a fraction. “I am not merely filling the air with empty words. My proposal is quite genuine. Penumbria could use more scholars – as its Lord, I know that better than anyone.”

Though his words sounded joyful, what they actually meant was: I have power, and I can tell you’re bullshitting me. Do you want to admit to it in private?

Valeria, it seemed, did not intend on backing down from a fight either. “In that case, mayhap we should discuss this privately once you’ve settled into the airship?” Her voice was the perfect picture of excited innocence, as if the idea of gaining proper funding was a dream come true. ‘Fine’, her unspoken implication practically yelled at him. ‘I want to figure out who you are too, strange lord.’

“Great! Well then, it’s been a pleasure meeting you, Lady Valeria.” Adam took her hand and kissed it. While it was a common introductory gesture in this world, and certainly polite, none would have blamed him for not doing so to a commoner. By both calling her ‘Lady’ and going through with this form of noble etiquette, he’d indicated that he was treating Valeria with more respect than her rank demanded.

Which was why it was so shocking when she refused the greeting, pulling her hand away in a panic.

Well now, Adam thought, suppressing a smirk. Usually I’m the one to violate etiquette.

He paid close attention to everyone’s reactions. Valeria seemed both scared and contrite, which was expected. The ship captain, Baltsar, appeared confused and somewhat apologetic for his passenger, though he said little outside of a vague mumble. Tenver’s gaze turned sharp, but he too stayed quiet. Solara appeared visibly annoyed at the woman, enough so that it seemed like only a matter of time until she found the right words to voice her outrage.

Nothing out of the ordinary. The remaining two passengers were of more interest.

Ferrerro Acero, the duelist, seemed to be almost staggered by the exchange, as if he’d been hit by a sudden attack. He leaned forward, and though his arms were hidden beneath a thick, heavy coat, his stance left Adam wondering if the man was reaching for his sword.

Serena Concorda, the ‘master of communications,’ was marginally more discreet. She was so covered by coats and fabric that Adam couldn’t even make out her face, yet he still noticed how she tensed up at Valeria’s faux pas.

Adam chose to pretend he hasn’t seen any of that, keeping up with the noble air he’d been projecting until now. “Does my greeting offend you, my fair lady?”

“It had better not,” Solara interjected. She stepped forward, positioning herself closer to Valeria than Adam was. “Lord Adam has graciously hosted me in his city, and so I find myself motivated to say what his honor will not allow him. A commoner ought to know better than to disrespect a Lord and refuse his greeting in such a manner.”

“My – my apologies,” Valeria stuttered. She massaged the hand that Adam had briefly touched, as if nursing a wound. For a scant moment, she glared at Solara’s elven features, her gaze turning as sharp as the woman’s ears.

Then it was gone, and she was a meek scholar once more. “I...I cannot explain, but I’m sensitive to...”

She trailed off. The prudent, logical thing to do would have been to push her to continue. That was the best way to gather information – especially since Adam was certain her reaction went beyond mere boundaries or personal sensitivities. It was likely closely related to her need for subterfuge.

But...

“You don’t have to explain anything,” Adam said, stepping forward and gently bowing with a hand to his chest. His other hand was extended between Solara and Valeria, as if saying: ‘Let it go. Don’t press her any further.’ “I understand this greeting may have been uncomfortable for you, and I take no offense to it.”

Solara huffed in annoyance. “My lord, a peasant rejecting your kindness–”

“Breaches etiquette?” Adam asked. “Makes me look weak?” Judging from Solara’s reaction, he appeared to have hit bullseye. “If you ask me, there’s more strength in discarding needless tradition that forces a woman to accept a kiss. Forgive me, Lady Valeria.”

Although he was putting on regal airs, deep inside, Adam’s Earth sensibilities were screaming so loudly that he was having trouble even putting the feeling into words. Regardless of tradition, the act of forcing a woman to accept a kiss on any part of her body, simply because he was rich and important...it was just too disgusting for him to abide. He hated scumbags who abused power and money to compel people to do things, and being on a different world didn’t mean he was going to forget that part of himself.

And I definitely didn’t get rid of Aspreay to become a carbon copy replacement.

His declaration left Valeria at a loss for how to proceed. “No, there’s nothing to forgive, I...rather, thank you – I’m sorry – ah...”

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Mercifully, Tenver came to rescue everyone from the awkward moment that was about to ensue. “Baltsar, my friend,” he began, addressing the captain in an overly loud voice. “May I assume that the same cabin I had last time is still available?”

“Of course!” Baltsar bowed so low that his hat nearly fell off. “Your Imperial Highness shall have anything he requests.”

Adam noticed that Baltsar was openly referring to Tenver by a title that he – by all rights – no longer possessed. It meant that everyone aboard this ship was, if not outright anti-Empire, then at least not loyal enough to bother enforcing its authority. Yet everyone freaked out when Valeria breached etiquette...weird world, this one.

“The west wing is currently filled by those three fine guests,” Baltsar said, again gesturing at the other passengers. “The east wing’s cabins are currently free.” He pointed at a staircase. “If anyone needs me, my quarters are also where I control the ship, so...if you don’t mind...”

The man sounded awkward and apologetic. “I need a moment so we can continue towards our destination. We took a brief detour to come here, you understand.”

“One moment, captain,” Tenver said. He nodded towards the last door. “What’s over there?”

Baltsar smiled. “O–oh, that...that leads to the lower levels. Where the commoners are.”

“Commoners?” Adam couldn’t let that slide. “What business do commoners have with the Puppet Mines?” And how can they afford to? No way you’re running this clandestine operation for cheap.

Baltsar’s smirk faded. “These...are desperate folk, my lord. Some have lost limbs to the Rot, others to war. Some of ‘em just are just out of hope; they don’t believe they can live with dignity, considering their Talents. So...they go to the Mines. Get made into Hybrids.”

Adam was halfway through a nod when Solara intervened, her voice taut. “You are sentencing them to lose their souls.”

“They don’t lose their souls when they become Hybrids, my lady,” Baltsar quickly said. “They just, well, get new limbs.”

“Do not liken their transformation to a sailor with a peg leg,” Solara snapped. “Hybrids can survive even when their head is cut off. Only a living abomination is capable of such a feat. Be they Hybrids or Nexus, they’re all monsters.

“Um, it depends on each Hybrid...I mean...if their core is placed in their head, then Hybrids still die if...” He faced Adam with a nervous, pleading stare. “Does...does my lord object to this?”

Adam wasn’t sure why the question was being posed to him of all people. Then he realized that the Airship was still relatively close to Penumbria, barely outside the range of his Domain. If Adam so chose, he could activate his Lord Talent, undo the walls, crush this vessel and its occupants, then return home and rebuild the walls at minimal risk to the city proper. He would have enough time to fix everything before monsters attacked.

Not to mention that most nobles would probably be fine with an ‘acceptable’ amount of lives lost, Adam mused. He studied Baltsar’s anxious expression. This guy may owe a debt to Tenver’s father...but I don’t think he would’ve come here if he‘d known a Lord was going to be among his passengers. It’s like ferrying an entitled nuke. Then again, he could be bound by a curse like Belmordo’s – or just by plain old leverage.

In the end, it didn’t really matter. What Adam needed to focus on was how to reply to the captain. Dragon Puppets were hardly loved in this world, but this was a ship bound for the Mines. What was the proper response to give here?

Adam considered every possibility, what would benefit him the most, and then damned them all to hell with a clench of his fist. It didn’t feel right to lie about this. He wanted to play the game, but he wanted to play it his way. Even if being honest was a sub-optimal strategy, that was fine. All he had to do was win anyway.

I’m painting my first draft right now, he thought dryly, so for now, I feel like a genius. Brimming with confidence. But when I look back on this later...I’m going to think I’m an idiot. That trait artists carried, the one Adam himself was happy to embody, came at a heavy cost in social situations like these.

The rule was to be a delusional genius when planning, and the devil himself when reevaluating whatever monstrosity he’d conjured up into the world. His future-self would be kicking himself, but...so be it.

Better to impose his will on the world than bend the knee to cruelty masquerading as tradition.

“I know very little of the Dragon Puppets,” Adam admitted. “Information on them, their people and society – as opposed to what military engagements they’ve had with the Empire – is rather scarce. Even so...I won’t critique anyone who would submit themselves to become a Hybrid. Whether they want to or need to, I have no reason to condemn them.”

Adam paused. No, that didn’t sound right. “Forget reason; I have no right to think anything of it. Whatever they do is their decision. Not mine.”

There was a general murmur of agreement in the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Adam could see both the duelist and the communications woman nodding along. Both of them, especially Ferrerro, seemed visibly more relaxed at his answer.

If only the same could be said about Solara, who looked openly upset at him – which legitimately he appreciated. Life would be much easier if everyone was that honest.

“As you say, my lord.” Solara’s tone was polite enough, yet her flat stare showed that she spoke against her will. “Consider this, however: it might be their choice, but is it truly a choice if they are given no options? Can you really say that when their only recourse is to illegally board a dubious ship – no offense, captain – and have their body rebuilt, because they will die if they cannot earn enough Orbs otherwise? Do you not blame the ones responsible for forcing this perversion of their souls?”

“Of course I blame them,” Adam snapped back. His tone was still vaguely lordlike, but enough real bitterness had crept into it. “But the ones at fault aren’t these people. Nor is the captain guilty for helping them in his own way. Even the Puppets aren’t guilty of a damn thing here – if anything, they’re giving the people here a choice. Do you know who I really blame for this?”

Solara’s anger faded slightly, and after a moment of thought, faded further until it was completely gone. A long moment passed as she held her chin thoughtfully. Eventually, she lifted her eyes to meet Adam, who nodded in return.

“Aye, my lord, I believe I do.” With a smirk, she turned to face each person in the room, then said in a melodic tone, almost as if singing, “Fuck the Emperor.”

It was hard to tell if the astonishment that enveloped the room was due to the improperness of Solara’s words, or the words themselves. Either way, that shocked silence lasted until it was shattered by a new voice.

“I can drink to that,” said Ferrero the duelist. He retrieved a glass bottle from beneath his cloak, the drink bearing a label Adam couldn’t identify, and held it up in a gloved hand. “Fuck the Emperor. Kinslaying bastard.”

Serena, the quiet master of communications sequestered in the corner, didn’t hesitate to speak up next. “Fuck the Emperor,” she said, amused. “May he feed the worms better than he feeds his people.”

Suddenly, Tenver dropped to the ground. He brought his open hand to the wooden floor, slamming it incredibly hard. The sound that resulted was thunderous enough that, for a second, Adam thought he’d punched a hole straight through. Then, cupping his mouth and aiming his scream at the floor, Tenver bellowed out: “FUCK THE EMPEROR!”

At once, the ship started to shake. Adam’s first thought was that they were being attacked – until he started to hear booming cries emanating from underneath. It was a chorus that joined the merry call, numerous voices chanting in unison.

”FUCK THE EMPEROR!”

Tenver stood up without a care, as if that had been a completely normal thing for someone of his status to do. The only elaboration he offered was a handsome, winning smile.

Does this dude seriously think he can get away with crap because of pretty privilege? Adam glanced at Solara and was met with a disbelieving stare, almost like she hadn’t just acted extremely harshly a moment ago. In fact, her puzzled look when Adam raised an eyebrow indicated that she believed there was nothing to apologize for at all. And does this girl think she can pretty privilege her way out of–

Adam’s internal grumbling was interrupted when, still amidst the chanting from the lower deck of the ship, Tenver threw his arm over his shoulder like a drunken – yet friendly – partygoer. “From their cheers, sounds like at least ten people,” the knight whispered. “Probably more that weren’t directly underneath us. Maybe a few that didn’t join in the chanting. Might be useful information.”

“There had to be a better way of checking,” Adam whispered back.

“None would have been as fun,” Tenver grinned.