Vera awoke to raucous laughter echoing through the stacks of books. Neither were familiar, but one had the hint of a squeal characteristic to graezen. She rolled out of the impromptu bed Gren had made for her, and tried to tuck everything out of the way. Once there was at least room to walk around it all, Vera straightened up and turned to where further laughter was originating. She wove between shelves and drew closer to the atrium of the archive. There, backlit by the windowed facade, were two figures.
One was facing her and was the recently familiar Braulen, his bright hair nearly a halo in the light against his gray skin. The one still chuckling was facing away from her. The thin spines they had in place of hair made them a graezen, but the spines were fuller and of a richer color than Gren’s were. There was also the small crossbow leaning against their chair. At her approach, Braulen looked up, a smile still on his face.
“She has risen! We were getting worried Lord Belphegor had overloaded you and burnt out your soul.” He motioned to a third seat between himself and the unknown graezen. She moved to the seat, but hesitated at the crossbow, moving around it as if it might strike out at her.
“That doesn’t actually happen, right?” If it could, Vera would have much preferred to have been asked, though she supposed her position warranted a bit of risk.
“Not usually,” answered the graezen as Vera sat. “But I don’t think the Claimant of Sloth has ever forcibly awakened a descendant’s heritage. A beginner’s mistake was possible.” Her tone was dismissive as if the mistake she was talking about wouldn’t have left Vera a burnt out husk.
“But I do not think it is too complicated of a process,” Braulen said, deftly diffusing Vera’s retroactively mounting concern. “And it failed to happen either way, so we can rejoice.”
“Yay, rejoice,” Vera said weakly from her chair.
“I’ll fetch my father. He reorganizes when he’s worried.” She glanced at Vera. “I’m sure he will be relieved to hear you’re not dead.” She grabbed her small crossbow as she stood. The eyes of graezen were slightly further apart than most other species of humanoids, leaving Vera struggling to read this one’s intentions. However, she simply turned and stalked off into the rows of shelves.
“I do not think she much likes me,” said Braulen once it seemed she’d be out of earshot.
“Didn’t I hear you two cackling when I woke up?”
“Yes, but the entire time, her body was tense.” He turned in his chair so that he could lean over the arm. “It seemed like she was prepared to fight me the whole time we were talking.”
“Is she a soldier? Maybe that’s her default.” Vera pulled her legs up onto the chair she was sitting in.
“No, she is a member of the Adventuring Corps.”
“That’s not, not a soldier.” Vera wouldn’t claim to be an expert on the subject, but pacifying the dangers of newly discovered worlds wasn’t a wildlife safari.
“They are not the same,” he said, swinging his legs up over the other arm. “Either way, yes, that may be the cause.”
The two sat in silence while they waited for the father and daughter graezen to return. A few times, Vera almost worked up the nerve to ask about Braulen’s plans, but she decided each time that she’d rather put off finding out she’d be abandoned.
“I wouldn’t expect someone who smashes his way out of problems to be paying attention to whole body tension.”
“Smashing is not the only thing I do.” He turned his head and grinned. “But why use a scalpel when a hammer works fine.”
“Because a hammer results in my father housing two fugitive demons,” answered the returning daughter. Walking behind her, Gren put a hand on her shoulder.
“Forgive Siloque. She has a tendency to be overprotective.”
“What do you mean ‘fugitive’?” asked Vera. “You’re not saying him tricking me for my soul was legal, right?”
“No,” answered Siloque with a touch of trepidation. “The specifics would depend on the contract, which Braulen here couldn’t tell us much about.” She moved to the side of the chair she had been sitting in, leaving it available for her father.
“So wouldn’t everything else be self-defense?” Vera untucked her feet and placed them on the ground as if preparing to stand. “Are they just ignoring that?”
“You know, I’m not actually on the investigative force,” the graezen woman responded, her voice dripping with exasperation. “But, yes, that seems to be what they’re doing.”
“Maybe I should make some tea for this conversation,” offered Gren.
“You’ve been on your feet for hours,” said Siloque. “I’ll make some tea, and you’ll sit.” She patted the back of the chair to punctuate her words. “Besides, you know more about what’s going on than me.”
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Despite Siloque’s assertion of her father’s superior knowledge, it did not seem that he could shed much further light. Instead, he probed Braulen regarding Vera’s apartment.
“Nothing had been touched so far as I could tell,” answered the redheaded demon. “Though, there were a lot of drawings spread across the bed.”
“Yeah, that was how I left them,” she said with a hint of embarrassment at the state she’d left her apartment in.
“Oh,” he said, pointing at Vera. “A miss Gilvny told me to thank you for finally paying up your rent.”
“Paid up?” Vera asked, baffled. “You didn’t pay her, did you?”
“Yes, that did seem odd,” said Braulen as he swung his legs off the arm of the chair to sit forward, leaning his elbows on her knees. “I asked and she said financial agents had dropped off the rent on your behalf. She said they even paid three months forward.”
“I would guess this Vladik is to thank,” offered Gren, leaning forward as well. “An attempt to entice you back into his web.”
“But he didn’t get grabbed,” said Vera, waving a hand at Braulen. “Shouldn’t they want him just as much as me, if not more?”
“Perhaps they simply weren’t equipped to capture him,” said Gren shrugging. He also waved at Braulen. “A high priest of Wrath is not an insignificant target.”
“High priest?” questioned Vera.
“So you do know me?” asked Braulen a beat later.
“I wasn’t sure. After all, Braulen has become quite a popular name.” Gren grinned half to himself. “Of course, you’re no small part of the reason.”
“Wait, but I’ve never heard of a church of Wrath,” interjected Vera. “Sure, that Astaroth lady seems alright, but some tiny church no one has heard of doesn’t need a high priest.” She turned to the spawn of Wrath, leaning forward with eagerness despite the serious expression he maintained. “And he doesn’t really strike me as the clerical type.”
“You channel divine Wrath and try to keep perfect composure,” Braulen responded with mock annoyance.
“Right, sorry, you’re very priestly with your neck chain whip and imprecise backhands.” It was an offhanded comment, but reminded Vera of the bonds she’d last seen the demon wrapped in. The collar remained around his neck, but his robes lacked a belt of chain and wall. “Whatever did happen to your clerical instruments?”
A look of confusion appeared on Braulen’s face at the question. It was replaced by resignation as he understood what Vera was referring to as clerical instruments. He undid the robes he had apparently borrowed from Gren to expose the layers of chain still wrapping his torso.
“We were able to remove the remaining bits of brick and whatnot from the wall he tore it from,” said Gren. “But the chain and collar itself were reinforced beyond what we have the means to damage.” He leaned back in his chair. “An archive isn’t the best place for such an endeavor though.”
“Would a blacksmith be able to remove it, or the machinery in those newer assembly plants?” asked Vera, more curious than concerned.
“What blacksmith would look at this, and not immediately report it to investigators?” asked Braulen, pulling futilely at the metal collar.
“I know a few blacksmiths who would be understanding if we blamed it on a sexual misadventure,” said Gren, amusement tinging his voice.
Vera gaped at the old man.
“We should explore other routes,” said Braulen as his ash grey face reddened to better match his hair.
“As for these assembly plants that have been popping up,” continued Gren, “They may be a suitable way, but you’d likely have to break in, or else deal with the same issues with authorities.”
“I guess I don’t really have a clue how that machinery works anyways,” admitted Vera. “Wait, you distracted me,” she said, turning back to Braulen. “You’re a priest?”
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“Technically, I am unsure.” The reminder about his bonds had caused him to scratch beneath the chains wrapped around his chest.
“You’re welcome to unravel yourself,” offered Gren. “I imagine that would be more comfortable.”
“That is appreciated, but I figured I would unwind it when I turn in for my own rest.” The demon closed his robes over the chains in an attempt to forget about his predicament before turning back to Vera. “Mister Gren has been telling me what he knows of my church, and it would seem that I am a priest in spirit only.”
“Yes,” began Gren, taking over the explanation. “The goddess you apparently met, is no longer recognized as a deity.” As he was speaking, Siloque returned with a tray carrying four cups.
“You can’t just not recognize a god,” she said as she handed one of the cups to her father. “Isn’t the whole point that they’re above mortal affairs?”
“It was always described as being removed, not above,” responded Braulen, garnering an eye roll from Siloque.
“Regardless, it was more of a legal matter than spiritual,” said Gren in answer to his daughter.
“Either way, wouldn’t I have heard of the church still?” asked Vera. She took her cup and had to restrain herself from gesticulating and spilling the fragrant beverage. “A law isn’t going to suddenly make an entire church disappear.”
“It wasn’t sudden.” Gren paused to take a sip of his tea. “Marvelous tea as always, Silo.”
“Don’t torture them in the name of dramatic suspense,” the younger graezen responded as she sat on the floor, having handed out all of the others’ teas.
“But how often will I get such a captive audience,” he said, the gentle whine graezen were know for creeping into his voice.
“Just tell her.”
“Fine.” Gren turned back to Vera with a scrunched nose that made him appear far more childlike than she had thought her quiet boss capable. “If this really is Braulen Dront, a high priest of Wrath, and I’m inclined to believe he is, that would mean he’s likely thirty-five hundred years old, give or take a century.”
Vera turned back to the demon who she’d thought was only a bit older than herself. He stared back, although his eyes were glazed and he swayed in his chair.
“Braulen?” asked Vera. She feared he was in shock, but he turned away from her and looked at Siloque on the ground.
“Did you drug me?”
“Yes,” she said, reaching back and removing one of the spines on her head.
“You know I could burn it away easily?”
“Yes.” She loaded the spine into the crossbow lying next to her.
“Some rest may be warranted.” The drugged-up spawn of Wrath stood on unsteady legs. “It’s pretty impolite to drug a guest.”
“‘Guest’ would be a strong word to use in this case,” answered Siloque. “‘Dangerous fugitive’ would really be a better description.”
“Silo, he is a guest, and that was rude,” said Gren, turning to the stumbling demon as he passed. “This may be for the best. Sitting up all these nights likely has made you restless. Now, you should get sounder sleep.”
“Yes, lookin’ out for me, that’s what she was doing.” The trio who remained as Braulen disappeared amongst the shelves listened to him make his way to the bedding Vera had slept in. At one point there was a small avalanche of books, followed by a languid “Oops,” from the demon. Gren started to get up, but his daughter beat him to it.
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t tear up too much.” She departed after him, following the sound of loud stumbling. Now just the two of them, Vera and Gren sat with tea in hand. The old graezen continued to drink his, but Vera was too wary to take any more sips.
“That certainly derailed the big reveal, didn’t it?”
“I think there is way too much information being presented in way to short a span of time for any one thing to be a ‘big reveal.’” Vera had never known for the old archivist to be so odd. Their relationship had always been a professional yet distant one. “I’m sorry for asking you to shelter us.”
“Nonsense. You needed help.”
“Yeah, but I had no right to make it your problem.” She took a sip from her tea, the weight of the cup triggering the motion more than any conscious choice.
“You’re a reserved girl, and I’ve kept my distance to respect that, but you always only had to ask if you’d needed anything.”
“Then couldn’t you have paid me more?” Vera asked, her face twisting into apology immediately after the words left her mouth. Gren was not offended though, only grimacing.
“The city doesn’t put a lot of funding towards an archive open to the general population of scholars. Frankly, I’m surprised they approved your hiring at all.” His words made sense considering how empty the archive generally was. Most institutions had their own repositories of knowledge and the average person off the street would be overwhelmed just by the volume of litterature.
“Sorry, I’m just a bit frustrated. I’ll make sure to get out of here once Braulen is a little less drugged.”
“That’s probably best,” said the returning figure of Siloque. She stopped at her father’s side just as he started to speak. “Yes, I fixed the books. Yes, I followed your system. Yes, I double-checked.” Gren had the disappointed look of a puppy that had been scolded, his further-apart eyes adding to the image. Siloque simply continued to where she had been sitting, choosing to remain on the floor rather than take the relinquished chair.
“I guess I’ll just leave,” said Vera, continuing her earlier thought. “The city I mean. Will I be able to go home?”
“Gate security would stop you,” answered the younger of the two graezen. “You’re considered a threat to the state considering what you know.”
“But I don’t know anything.”
“It’s not quite what you know I suppose,” said the graezen woman hesitantly. “It’s more what you are.”
“My heritage?” asked Vera. Siloque nodded. “But I don’t even know how to use it.”
“That doesn’t matter to the investigators. They just know that you’ve stumbled into power you shouldn’t have. I suspect that’s part of why they seem to be looking the other way with Vladik’s contract.”
“But Vladik has similar powers, I felt it.” Vera had to set her cup to the side due to the animating effects of her annoyance.
“Spawns of Pride get some leeway—”
“What about about the entire Mages’ Academy?” Vera cut her off. “You’re not going to tell me I’ve discovered some secret magic that makes me uniquely dangerous, are you?”
“No,” answered the woman on the floor. “But this will be easier to explain after you join the Adventuring Corps.”
“What?” asked Vera, the sentiment of unfairness that had been growing within her dying at the bewildering change of topic. “Why would I join the Adventuring Corps? Wouldn’t the investigators find me there as well?”
“This is why I asked Silo to be here when you awoke,” said Gren. “There are certain things the general populace isn’t allowed to know, do, or in your case, be.”
“Those restrictions are loosened if you’re pledged to the Adventuring Corps,” said Siloque. “A lot of the information required just to explain how much trouble you’re in is restricted.” She looked up at her father with a stern glare. “Despite his penchant for sharing such secrets, I’ve convinced my father doing so while you’re not in the Corps is too risky.” She turned to look Vera in the eyes. “I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s fine,” said Vera, rubbing at her temples. She stood and walked to the glass facade of the building. “There’s already been so much information spewed at me; if we actually sat down at talked about everything, I think I might turn myself in to Vladik, just so I didn’t have to worry about it all anymore.”
“I don’t think losing control of all but your thoughts would solve much,” said Siloque.
“Yeah, but that’s the thing. It would be out of my control.” Vera turned around from the window to face the two graezen. “I don’t have to worry about what to do with my life. I can just enjoy the world from the passenger seat.”
“But,” began Gren as he sat forward, “What about impacting that world?”
“What impact? An overstaffed archive and an exorbitantly priced apartment occupied?” Vera tilted her head back so it might rest against the glass, but her newly extended horns stopped her. “And I wouldn’t have to deal with all this spawn nonsense. I mean what kind of god shows up in a hammock?”
“You’re overwhelmed,” said Siloque as she stood and approached. “We’ve given you a lot to think about, but try not to let it feel like more than it is.” Vera closed her eyes and sank to sit against the glass.
“If you were a mindless thrall, you wouldn’t leave any more indentations on my books,” said Gren from his chair. Vera pulled her legs up to her chest.
“I don’t think now is the time to scold her,” Siloque said as she squatted next to Vera.
“Braulen brought back some of your drawings,” Gren continued. “He said it would’ve been a shame to leave them for Vladik.” Vera chuckled as a sob threatened to escape.
“Maybe he’d take them as payment.” She rubbed at her eyes, the tears that were forming stifled before they could fall. “I think I need some more of that tea,” she said while trying to shimmy up her glass backrest. Siloque stood more quickly from her crouched position, pacing quickly towards the set aside beverage.
“I’ve got it, don’t worry,” she said stooping over. “I don’t know if this will help, but if you’re looking for the life of a mindless drone, the Corps might be the best place for you.” She paused in her walk back to think a moment. “At least at first.”
“But isn’t the Adventuring Corps for people who can actually do magic?” Vera asked reaching up to accept the cup.
“Well, first off it’s not just magic. I don’t know the first thing about magic, but I can still shoot stuff till it’s dead.” She crouched down again, undecided about actually sitting on the archive floor. “Also, they’re just as interested in potential as immediate ability.” She looked away and continued under her breath, “Almost more so.”
“If I pledged to the Corps, would the investigators go after Vladik?” It might be worth it for that reason alone.
“Not initially, but it would clear your fugitive status, making the investigative force a neutral party.” She mimed weighing the two options. “They won’t be much help, but at least Vladik’s movements would be more constrained.”
“You mean he couldn’t come after me anymore?” Vera asked after slurping loudly on her tea. Gren was right; it was good tea.
“He at least can’t be as brazen about it. Right now, the only thing protecting you is his ignorance of your location.” Siloque looked over her shoulder into the stacks of books in the direction of the makeshift bed in which Braulen lay. “Well, that and the Mad Priest dozing in the back.” As she turned back to Vera, the young demoness’s confused expression caused her face to relax in apology. “I’m sorry. I know we keep giving you the barest hints and not explaining any of it.” She reached out as if Vera might bite at her and gently rested a hand on the wrist holding the tea. “Just don’t put all your faith in that demon. He may be powerful, but he’s just as much a curse as he is a boon.”
Vera returned the graezen’s gaze, not replying to the warning. If she were honest, she would agree simply based on her own intuition. However, she wasn’t just a leaf on the wind, she was in a hurricane as far as she was concerned, and she’d cling to whoever felt secure. Still, she eventually slowly nodded, satisfying the concerned woman.
“Is Braulen also going to pledge to be an adventurer?” Siloque shook her head slightly to show her uncertainty.
“He’d have to sign under a false name. Even then, they’d be awfully curious how a spawn of Wrath had gotten as strong as him without ever being noticed.”
“Why couldn’t he just do the same as me?” Vera had finished the small tea and set her cup to her side. “Isn’t the whole point to clear our fugitive statuses?” Siloque tilted her head a bit to indicate assent, the spines of her head rattling from the motion.
“You’re a fugitive through no fault of your own. He’s…” she trailed off, her mouth quirked in such a way that her eyes were made even more uncanny.
“He’s their bigger problem,” said Gren from his chair.
“Which is good for you,” Siloque added quickly. “They won’t want to hassle you too much, if they’re worried about him.”
“Oh, okay,” Vera replied a bit weakly. She’d only just met the redheaded demon, and now she had Siloque to help her. She was struggling to convince herself that leaving him behind would be the best move.
“Come on,” said the graezen woman encouragingly. “Let’s get you sat back in that chair, and I can make you some more tea.”
“Yeah, okay, that sounds—” Vera began but stopped, Siloque’s distant yet focused stare curbing her thoughts. The graezen’s eyes dropped once more to her and she spoke in a calm tone.
“Don’t worry about it. Let’s just go to your seat and just keep looking this way, okay?”
“Um, okay,” said Vera, “Should I know what’s going on?”
“It seems that high priest wasn’t as thorough as he claimed.”
The demoness was on her feet by now and despite Siloque’s instructions, she turned her head at those words. The graezen was too busy shooing her father into the bookshelves to stop her until Vera was already looking out the tall glass pane. There was an indistinct shape moving only slightly in the wide, open windows of the building opposite. She was about to tell Siloque it was probably just a patron, the building being a music hall, but the archive’s glass shattered in the next moment.