It was approaching noon and the rain was heavy. The bad weather didn't deter the populace, the Upper Ring was still filled with patrons. They took shelter under the awnings or strode in the streets, clad in dark raincoats or protecting themselves with umbrellas. Some of the more wealthy-looking parties had Rainshield Imbued Treasures or a servant with the same Ability to save themselves the fiddly or unfashionable nature of such awkward apparel.
Fritz decided to join those crowds in the streets as they were moving faster, but first, he needed something to keep himself from the rain. He couldn't turn up dripping wet as he had done before, it would be unseemly, not befitting a man of his position, or rather, the rank he had yet to claim.
Ducking under an awning, Fritz swiftly discovered a shop that sold umbrellas and raincoats.
He searched the store for maybe three minutes, then bought one collapsible black umbrella with a dark wooden handle set with a flowery pattern of silver lines. It had caught his eye mainly due to the fact it bore some resemblance to his own sword's hilt. When he grasped it he couldn't help but flourish it, then thrust with it as if it were a rapier. The owner stared at him, a small smirk threatening to crawl onto his lips.
Fritz coughed awkwardly and approached the counter. Although he haggled with the soothing tones of Dusksong, he was only able to cut a third off of its original price. It was surprisingly costly, which the owner claimed was because of the efficient collapsing enchantment. Fritz stared suspiciously at the umbrella's shaft, looking for the fine runes hidden in the pattern. He couldn't see them and he said so. The owner just claimed that that was a sign of true craftsmanship.
Fritz suppressed a shrug, he still had plenty of gold, so he decided to spend a little. Especially since he'd taken a liking to the sturdy item already. He paid the requested six silvers, or rather he paid with one gold and received three silvers in return.
Fritz left the store and slid a thumb over the activation rune. He waited as the umbrella slowly opened. Holding it over his head, Fritz took to the streets, the rain drumming on his new covering.
He had an easier time navigating the more sparsely traversed uncovered streets, people would move out of his way without a grumble. And if someone did step into his path they would quickly apologise with "sorry sir" or "excuse me, milord" and give a small bow, even if Fritz had been the one at fault. It seemed as though he didn't need his fancy coat to look like a lord. It must have been his purposeful stride that gave him away, that, and Quicksilver belted at his side.
Fritz didn't dwell on it, simply embracing the bearing that was ingrained in him when he was young.
As the orphanage loomed in the distance, he began to doubt his plans. Sudden and insistent worries needled him with sharp questions.
Did he really want to take on the responsibility for his house? Would his siblings have to leave the safety of the orphanage if he did so? How does one become a Lord? What hoops would he have to jump through? How much time would this all take? Would the Nightshark know? What would happen when they were inevitably dragged before them? Would his family be safe? Would his team be safe? Would Sid be safe?
Disputing and debating, the thoughts rushed around his mind. Something was crawling up his spine and his heart began to race. Fritz stopped in place.
Suddenly, he felt he needed to hide. He just had to get out of sight for a second. He slipped into the shadow of a building and quickly crouched, wrapping himself in dusk. His breathing came swiftly, and his heart pounded, beating on his ribs, trying to escape the prison of his chest. He cursed at himself and tried to take control of this torrent of emotion. A flood of fear, guilt, expectation, and failure flowed over him.
Fritz stared around wildly searching for foes, but there was no one there but him. He slowed his breathing, stretching his shallow panting into long, deep breaths. He listened to Dusksong as it rang in admonition. Apparently, his terror had offended it somehow. He wondered why and forced his mind to focus on anything other than his still screaming heart. He set his Awareness to make sense of this sudden outburst.
He needn't have, it was obvious when he thought about it. It was the great, heavy responsibility and he feared it.
It made no sense.
He'd been leading a Climbing team through life and death for almost two weeks now and simply the thought of taking hold of his house had struck such anguish in him. It was stupid, a pathetic thing. An old wound, an old fear, left to fester and set to rot.
It was time to excise that infection. Face his fate fully, and take what he could. Only action could be the salve that ceased the spread of this illness.
He told himself these things, but he still couldn't move. Minutes passed. Dusksong droned, and deep within flame flickered, crackled and cackled. Grim fury roiled through him at the fiery mockery. He willed himself to stand. At first it was hard, then it was easy. Choosing the path was always the most difficult part. But he was a Scout and he'd find the way.
Now he was standing and his breath had taken on the smooth grace of calm. His heart ceased trying to leap out of his chest. The storm had passed and he was going to do what he had to, if that meant rejoining the nobility and being chained by their inane rules, he would do so. Everything for power. The power to protect those close and the power to be free.
Those goals were at odds, as many of his desires were, he knew that intellectually. Yet still he sought them. It was his nature.
After another minute of settling his nerve, he let out a long exhalation and began to stride towards the orphanage again. Soon he was at the gate and he vaulted over it with great grace, then he moved to the heavy door. He knocked and was greeted with Frank's wrinkled scowl.
"Oh, Francis, it's you," he said with a deep rasp.
"Very astute, you could be a guard," Fritz said.
"I am a guard, and I thought you were Climbing," Frank said, opening the door fully to let Fritz out of the rain.
"Obviously I'm not," Fritz said, stepping in and collapsing his umbrella. "Are you sure you're a guard?"
"Sure as you are a pain in the arse, boy," Frank retorted, his grumpiness mostly a facade.
"Are my siblings about?" Fritz asked.
Frank nodded.
"May I see them?"
Frank shrugged.
"Shall I find Jess then?" Fritz asked, peering down the hall for the former orphan girl who now did some teaching and managed the ledgers.
"I'll lead you to her, can't have you gallivanting all over the place," Frank said, his half-plate armour creaking as he turned and walked away.
Fritz followed, then soon set himself to walk beside the man rather than being led around like a child.
"Anything happen in my absence?" Fritz asked only mildly interested.
"Amathea has started courting a young man," Frank said.
Fritz almost tripped, almost cried out that she was too young.
Frank glanced at him and smirked when he saw Fritz's sour expression.
"She's not," Fritz said.
"She's not," Frank said with a chuckle. "Look at your face. Hah."
Anger boiled in his gut, but he let it go quickly. He wasn't here for petty grudges. No, the grudges he had to settle were far more grandiose. And so he settled for weaving a Lethargy into the man as they walked.
Frank yawned and his eyelids drooped a little.
"Gods, boy, you really are trouble. Just being near you exhausts me," he said.
"You're just getting old," Fritz replied blandly.
They stopped at a door, knocked, and Frank peered in saying, "Francis is back."
There was some shuffling of papers the stoppering of a bottle of ink and a reply of, "Five minutes, just need to get this last row of numbers done."
Frank closed the door and they both waited in the quiet hallway.
In the room he could hear the whispered complaints of someone having 'the worst timing' and that they 'were always too early'. Fritz stopped listening and soon enough Jess opened the door and walked out of it with as much prim properness as she could muster. Which was quite a lot all told.
Jess was pretty, she had always been so, with a long braid of auburn hair and dark, almost black eyes. Her face could be described as sweet, though it had an impish edge that she hid quite well under a pleasant smile. She was wearing the brown apron that was the uniform of the helpers, it suited her even though it was unflattering. Seeing her stoked a gentle flame in his chest, it was akin to the love he held for his family, if not quite the same.
Jess smiled when she saw him and Fritz mimicked her excited demeanour, smiling back in turn.
"You know there are others that could help you find Thea and Eli," Jess said.
"None as comely and as capable as you," Fritz flirted reflexively.
"Oh, stop," Jess said, flushing slightly and slapping his arm lightly.
Frank grimaced, as he obviously found the display nauseating.
"Shall I go get them for you, same as before?" Jess asked.
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"No, I just need to speak with Elliot," Fritz stated.
Jess frowned slightly and Fritz amended, "I'll also visit Amathea after."
That seemed to mollify the woman and she led the way, saying that she thought he was likely studying.
As they walked they chatted, Jess enquired as to how successful his Climb was. Although Fritz downplayed the true largess of their great haul, he did claim that he was wildly well-to-do due to his Silver Climb. It seemed to impress Jess, and surprisingly Frank as well.
"Didn't hear about a silver pulse," Frank said.
"Well, the team I was with was full of first-timers," Fritz said. "Must have been covered by a golden pulse."
"Must have been," Frank said suspiciously, though he let the conversation drop.
Why is it that people always think I'm a liar? Can't they just believe me? Fritz bemoaned inwardly.
"And how have your studies and duties been going?" He asked into the silence.
"Well, I'm almost ready to take the official scribe's exam," Jess said.
"Oh? What's that?" Fritz asked.
"It will qualify me for all sorts of scribe work, from keeping accounts to making official copies of documents and books."
"Sounds wonderful," Fritz lied.
"It's steady, safe, well-paid work," Jess explained, seeing through his feigned approval in a heartbeat.
"You know my offer still stands about leading you up the Mer Spire, even if it was only for your first level," Fritz said. "I'll even pay the levy myself."
Jess was silent for some moments before she muttered, "I'll think about it."
Fritz was about to try and convince her further when Frank interrupted him.
"Fritz, let it go. Not everyone is suited for Climbing."
Fritz glanced over Jess's downturned face and saw the fear she was trying to hide. He decided to heed the advice.
Soon they were before a door, Jess knocked briskly, then opened it. Within was a room with a large chalkboard covered in writing mounted on one wall. A tutor looked up from a desk and when Jess told him she was looking for Elliot the man waved the boy out of his seat. Elliot stood from his writing desk and quickly left the room.
Fritz covered himself in dusk and stepped to the side, seeking to sow a little mischief in the shady hallway.
"What is it? Is everything alright?" Elliot asked some worry writ plain on his face.
Jess smiled and motioned to where Fritz had been standing.
Elliot looked and his eyes slid right over Fritz.
"What?" He asked confused.
Jess frowned and looked herself, but she also couldn't seem to see him.
"Where'd he go?" Jess muttered.
"He's right here, using some Ability," Frank said, shoving Fritz forward.
Something about his small stumble and having their attention directed at where he really was let them see him.
Elliot hid a flinch and Jess jumped slightly.
"Why?" Elliot hissed.
"I was testing how attentive you were. You never know when a deadly beast could strike," Fritz smirked. It was, of course, because it was his duty as a brother to annoy him.
Elliot rolled his dark brown eyes, they were so similar to his mother's that Fritz's heart ached for a moment.
"What do you want?" Elliot asked, impatiently.
"I need the signet ring, Eli," Fritz stated, getting to the point. It didn't look like his brother was in the mood for his tricks, that, and he really didn't have the time to spare. He'd make that up to them later.
"Why?" Eli asked a note of accusation in his tone.
"Because it's time for the house of Hightide to come back," Fritz proclaimed. "And as its head, I require our ring."
Eli just stared at him, then his face contorted in indignation.
"What!? What do you mean?" He demanded, an unexpected frustration bubbling forth. "You left it to me. When you left, you said it would be on me to be the head of the house. For me to 'take care of'."
"Things have changed," Fritz said blandly. "I am in need of some noble backing to further my goals. And what better backing than my very own."
Although Fritz was trying to keep the conversation light with his simple explanation and his tone, it did nothing for Eli's undercurrent of anger, in fact, it only seemed to stoke it.
"What?" Eli said quietly, dangerously. He clenched fists that had no rings on them.
"Nevermind. It doesn't really matter," Fritz said dismissively, dropping his smirk. "I gave the ring to you for safekeeping. I see you don't have it here. Where is it?"
"After all this time, you come back just to rob me of my inheritance," Eli said through gritted teeth, seething.
Eli's anger sparked Fritz's own fury. The boy didn't know what he'd sacrificed to keep them safe, what he'd endured both in the Spires and out of them. Here he was in his cushy, dry orphanage and he had the nerve to accuse him of theft.
"Our inheritance," Fritz said coolly.
"Doesn't seem that way," Eli retorted. "Will there be a single triad left after you've lost it all in one of your schemes?"
Fritz frowned and Dusksong began to spit and sputter in time with his beating heart, he suppressed it, contenting himself with glaring at his brother who glared back just as furiously.
Jess looked between the two anxiously and wrung her hands.
"No fighting in the hallways," Frank said.
"We're not fighting," Fritz nearly growled. "This is simply a case of childish rebellion."
"I'm not a child-" Eli began before Frank interrupted, holding up a hand and saying, "You should do this in private. This way."
They followed, stewing in their respective resentments and each trying to be a stride ahead of each other. Jess trailed behind nervously. Frank led the three of them into an unused reading room and ushered the two brothers in before closing the door behind them. Fritz could hear Jess's worried whispers through the wood but couldn't quite make out the words.
"Well!?" Eli shouted, snapping Fritz out of his distraction.
"Well, what?" Fritz asked. "Just tell me where the ring is and I'll be on my way."
"Why should I?" Eli asked obstinately.
"Because, as the eldest, it is mine by right," Fritz stated imperiously, his Dusksong agreed with him, adding a lead-like weight to his lordly tone. "And because I demand it."
His voice washed over Eli, causing his brother's glare to falter and forcing him to step back. Terror entered his eyes, and immediately Fritz felt a wave of guilt. He hadn't meant to wield his Dusksong, not against his own family.
"Sorry, Elliot," Fritz said softly, pulling back on that cruel power.
Elliot's eyes cleared and rage returned.
"What exactly is it that you are sorry for?" Has asked in accusation, his hand grasping for a sword hilt that was not there.
Fritz considered for a moment, then he sighed. There were things he regretted, though he had deemed them necessary at the time.
"For everything," Fritz lamented.
"Everything," Elliot repeated scornfully. "How very vague. You can't even admit to one thing."
Fritz's guilt evaporated, boiled away by the heat of his anger.
"You don't know what I've done to keep you safe," Fritz growled, his brow bent in fury as he held his magic tight in his chest.
"And I don't care," Elliot interrupted, taking a step forward. "You fled into the rain, down into the gutters. Left me behind? And why?"
"So I wouldn't bring trouble down on you," Fritz said sternly.
"So you could avoid the pain and the punishment for your crime," Elliot declared. "You abandoned us, Francis, out of fear."
"That's not true," Francis said. "I would have done anything for you. I would have killed for you. I almost succeeded. In killing. For you."
Elliot scowled and shook his head.
"That was for yourself. So you could feel the hero while being able to flee without remorse or second thought."
It seemed Elliot had been giving this argument a lot of thought, that he'd been refining the resentment he bore like it was some bitter tonic. He had come to some extremely unflattering, unfair conclusions. Francis wanted to yell and slam his fist against the table, he wanted to shout down these spurious notions. But he could see how much his brother was hurting, that his old wounds were just as deep as his own.
"It was all a part of your plan, to leave us behind while you gallivanted free of any responsibility or rules," Elliot continued, speaking as if he'd rehearsed his speech. Which he likely had.
Francis let him continue, knowing his brother had to get this off his chest. This was bad blood left stagnant. And bad blood had to be exsanguinated. So Francis listened to Elliot. Not because he agreed, not because his brother was right, but because he needed it. They both did.
"It was all for your freedom. From the guides, from your noble title, from anything and everything," Elliot recited until what was impassioned accusation became little more than a pained whisper. "Free from us."
Francis let the silence fall and he embraced it. Elliot waited for an answer, likely he expected defiant denial or another angry outburst.
"You read a lot of intentions in the actions of a grieving nine-year-old," Francis said while considering what his brother had said. While most of what he had raved about was nonsense, it wasn't all untrue. A part of him could admit that much, though it pained him terribly.
"What?" Elliot asked.
"I was half mad back then," Francis explained. "From loss, pain, pressure, and fear."
"What are you saying? Forgive you because you were half-mad?" Elliot bristled.
"I'm saying forgive me. Because I was young and wrong to do what I did," Francis admitted. "I'm saying forgive me. Because I'm your brother and I love you."
Francis could see his words strike at Elliot's heart, could see his spirit shake. A fog of black thoughts and blacker feelings swirled around him on bitter winds. The truth of those words stirred something, the darkness was beginning to churn, to lighten in hues to resentful greys rather than blackest hate.
"That's it?" Elliot scoffed, trying to front an anger that was no longer in control of his heart.
"That's it," Francis agreed. "I'm sorry."
Again they stood in silence. Both having little more to say.
A bell tolled above them, signalling the end of the hour.
"I don't have the ring," Elliot said. "The Headmaster has it for safekeeping."
"I told you to take care of it," Francis almost hissed. "Not to give it away to anyone who asked for it. What if it's being misused?"
"I trust the Headmaster, he was there for us," Elliot growled back.
Not wanting to retread their argument and ruin what little good his apology wrought, Francis held his tongue.
For once, Bert might say. If he were here.
"Well, I must be off then," Fritz said, striding for the door. "Keep up the training. I'll have to spar with you one of these days. See if you have any skill."
He opened the door to see Jess's perturbed face, then he spun and offered his brother a hand to shake.
"I'll see you soon," Fritz said.
Elliot stared at the offered hand and looked away pointedly.
Fritz could only smile bitterly, then he left for the Headmaster's office.
---
The visit to the Headmaster's office wasn't nearly as eventful or draining as his talk with his brother. The Headmaster himself had been there and willing, almost eager, to part with the signet ring.
"Ah, of course, Francis, or should I say Lord Hightide," the older gentleman had chuckled when Fritz had asked for his family's ring. It came as something of a surprise that the man was happy to give him the ring without an inch of intrigue or interrogation.
"Francis is fine," Fritz allowed awkwardly.
The man was as kindly as he remembered, and acted just as youthful as ever even though his bald spot had grown and his wrinkles were more multitudinous.
"You should consider employing an advocate so your inheritance and all its legalities can be dealt with properly," Headmaster Harvest said with a smile as he opened a safe set into the wall behind his desk.
"Is that so?" Fritz asked.
"Unless you want to deal with all the bureaucracy yourself I would advise it," he replied. "One could even say: I advocate for an advocate."
The man then chuckled at his own words.
"I pray you wouldn't say that," Fritz said with a mock scowl. "Although, do you have any recommendations?"
"Hmm yes," the headmaster said, holding out a ring of rainsteel set with a silver seal.
Fritz took the offered ring and slipped it on a finger, to join his other, more potent, rings. He took in his family crest emblazoned in silver, three cresting waves within a circle. Then he felt its solid heaviness, it weighed on his hand like it was made of lead.
The headmaster noticed the Treasures on his fingers for what they were, and his eyes twinkled in interest. The man was a retired Guide after all. Soon the man's eyes glanced over each of Fritz's Treasures.
"My, someone's been successful," he observed.
"Just lucky," Fritz replied with a smile.
"Still no inclination to join the Guild?" The headmaster asked without much hope. He knew what had happened to his mother when the Guild came calling.
When she was murdered.
"No," Fritz said without much heat. He hadn't much argument left in him.
"A shame, you were talented and would make a fine Guide," Harvest said sadly. "But I understand. After what happened-"
The headmaster's words trailed off and he was quiet for three moments, then he spoke again, "Timothy Worth."
"What?" Fritz asked.
"The advocate, Timothy Worth," he repeated. "He's here in the Upper Ring, right by Jeweller's Row. Tell him I sent you."
Fritz sensed no deception or duplicitous intent in the headmaster's demeanour, so he decided to take the advice seriously. As he had when the man had warned him about the trouble he'd caused so long ago. It was that advice that set him to flee the 'justice' that was coming for him, that had precipitated Fritz's exile.
The headmaster had told him that when he was taken by the storm guard he was likely to receive similar wounds to the terrible injuries he had inflicted with merely a light push and some tall stairs. As it turned out it was the captain's daughter he had harmed so grievously. The one he had punished for tormenting Elliot, Amathea and himself.
Fritz could have endured the slaps, the stinging cane and the cruel insults she'd levied. But when he saw those same marks and welts on his siblings, all up their arms, legs and on their faces, there was no way he could sit by and watch. The memory still made his blood boil.
"Francis, are you well?" the headmaster asked worriedly. Fritz snapped out of his memories, and rose back into the moment.
"I'm fine," Fritz said. "Thank you."
"No worries, lad," Harvest said waving him off.
"No. Thank you for taking care of Elliot and Amathea," Fritz said earnestly. "For shielding them from the consequences of... my actions."
Harvest nodded slowly, a terrible look of guilt crossing his face, making him look a decade older.
"I did what I could. I only wish I could have done more... for you," he admitted. "Alas."
"Alas," Fritz agreed.
"They'll come for you again, I'm afraid," Harvest stated.
"That's fine. I'm strong now," Fritz said, smiling. "I also have friends."
"We can handle them."