Stein leaving Andora's office should have been a load off her back. Instead, it only amplified her problems. For the first time ever, she was allowing an alteration to be made to a state mandated contract.

Andora gave a heavy sigh as she sank into her chair. The part of her job that should have been the easiest had suddenly become the biggest headache. It was so simple, the boy just needed to sign the contract and he could be swept under the rug, done with while she cleaned up his mess. Instead, he'd refused and for the second time in as long as she could remember put her in a position she didn't have any good way out of.

"You really brought the biggest pain in the ass you could find, didn't you?" Andora said to her sister, who'd been mute through almost the entire conversation.

"It's strange, my impression of him was wildly different from how he's been acting lately. I never knew he had such fire."

"You're the ones that put him through a crucible, clearly the boy hasn't been found wanting. Even still, he's far more developed than I ever expected. He called every bluff I had and then some. What am I supposed to do against that?"

"Well, you won't hear me complaining. You know I've never been a big fan of the way we operate, binding people to contracts at the first whiff of trouble."

"You know what's at stake, why it matters."

"I rather think you put too much emphasis on it. That place is a blight upon our history, true, but the longer we let ourselves be bound to the ghosts of the past the more we damage our future."

"And the core? You'd let that be public knowledge?"

"Oh sister, we're a strange folk, that's undeniable, but we're hardly the oddest of the group. Look at the demons, for example."

"It's not a matter of perception, it's a matter of security! You know this, so why do you argue? I don't understand."

"You never did. That's why I chose my path, because I knew none of you would ever see my side. Nails that stick out get hammered down, I simply removed myself before I took the brunt of that weight."

"And let the rest of us take it instead, right?"

"Nobody said you couldn't come with me."

"Yeah well, who'd want to stick with you and your husbands when you're so noisy at night?" Andora said, forcing a smile.

***

It took nearly an hour to summon Voset's senior contractor from the church. At first, I was slightly worried about a senior member being able to sense my blessing as Talon warned me some might be able to, but my fears turned out to be unfounded and the process went smoothly.

In the end, the contract was altered so that unless I'm put in a situation of duress directly related to the abyss, any attempt to communicate information about that place and what I saw inside will result in a forcible loss of consciousness.

This fixed the obvious issue of death upon breach of contract and also allowed a loophole where if for instance Zeph really wanted to force the information out of me, there wouldn't be a conflict in the contracts. I also managed to weasel out of the stipend about not being able to seek out information on the place, though even I'm not sure if that'll be useful.

"Here," I say, handing a signed contract to Andora.

She looks over it with a bleak expression before tucking it away, "Very well. I'll let your comrades know you're available, and I'll send word if any information about this Lleig surfaces."

No you won't. I'm not stupid enough to think you'd willingly invite an established loose cannon to party.

"On another note," She clears her throat, "I'd like to know more about this tink that caused more trouble. I don't expect you to know much more about Lleig than you've already divulged, considering your relationship. However, Hithe is a different matter. I'd like to know what you spoke about if anything. Or if the man gave any hints as to his intentions."

"Yeah, he's something special all right. He seemed obsessed with seeking some kind of legacy, and he seemed to know far more than an ordinary citizen should. He also made it sound like he's known about that abyss for a while and said he knew where the rumor of hidden treasure originated. In hindsight I suppose that rumor wasn't entirely false, considering the absurd amount of oricite down there, huh?" I finish with an amused smile.

"What? I've been chasing the tail of whoever started spreading that damn gossip for close to two months. I haven't been able to turn up a single damn thing and this tink just happens to know?" Agitation clearly etched on her face.

"Did he say what kind of legacy?" Annora asks from the side.

Shaking my head, I say, "No, only that it's supposed to be grand in nature. He said there would be a 'spark' to preface its coming, and that it would be best to leave the city when it arrives."

Andora puts her hand to her chin in thought, "So whatever it is he's planning won't be good. Did he mention any hints to his whereabouts or where he can be found? If he's planning something large in scale I don't believe he'd leave the city."

"He took offense when I implied he was probably homeless, so I find it highly unlikely he has any sort of official residence. He also said he knows every hidden passage the shadow brigade uses, so he likely has an extremely in-depth understanding of the city's structure."

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"Hm," Is the only response I get.

Hesitating a moment, I add, "I confess I don't fully understand the man. To be truthful, at first I assumed he would be similar to Morvin, as I've heard once a tink's hair turns black it's a sign that they're going to die soon. So I thought maybe like Morvin he would cling to connections and attempt to leave something positive behind. In the end, I think I let that blind me, and I didn't fully anticipate how radical he truly is."

"If we're going to try to read into the mind of a tink perhaps it's best we include one in the conversation. Vanderburst, enter."

At her command, the door opens and Vanderburst, who was standing at attention outside, enters the study. "You called, noble mistress?" He asks with a small bow.

Andora gives him a general overview of the situation, and the more the small butler hears of his kin the darker his hair is dyed. When he entered the room it had been a dull yellow, and by the end of the story, it's a deep navy blue.

After Andora gives him the basic rundown he says, "Hmm. I can make guesses as to the root of his behavior, but I can offer no more than speculation."

"Any insight would be extremely helpful," Andora says, urging him on.

"I think it best I start with an overview of what makes us unique as a people."

"You mean other than the whole hair thing?" I say, trying to improve the somber mood.

Vanderburst just gives me a sad smile before continuing, "My lady will know this all too well, but we tinks are something of walking contradictions. We are by far the shortest lived species that walks this planet, and yet we are also the longest. Why, I still remember your predecessor three generations back, my lady."

"Wait," I interject, "That doesn't make any sense. How can you be the shortest and longest lived species?"

"In a sense, we are functionally immortal. Or, I suppose pseudo-immortal would be a better way to phrase it. Tinks have an average lifespan of 20 years, after which time we… divide. A new us is created, retaining near everything that makes us ourselves. This creates the cycle of life, death, and immortality. The old self dies off and the new self is given fresh life."

With a frown, I ask, "So when a tink's hair goes black it's a sign the cycle is about to renew?"

"No, it's a sign the cycle has renewed. Those whose hair has been stripped of emotion are the husks left behind, fated to slowly wither away."

"Wait, you're saying there's another Hithe out there, acting completely separate from the one I met?"

"Maybe, maybe not. The process of dividing is also seen as a process of purification by some. When a tink is reborn all their intense negative emotions are stripped away, leaving the self to be pure of imperfections. In an ideal sense, the divide is supposed to create a perfect copy, but I've heard stories of tinks set on war who have birthed gentle pacifists, heroic souls turned farmers, men and women whose ambition has been entirely stripped away, leaving their old self to wither away and die unfulfilled."

Vanderburst looks out the window at the dying light of evening, "It can truly be a cycle of tragedy."

"So you think that's what's happened to our friend Hithe?" Andora asks.

"Maybe. These are outlier cases. Tinks are generally a simple people who take pleasure in the simple comforts of life. Take me for example, I've never seen the cycle as a significant toll because my purpose is simple and it brings me great joy. When I'm renewed my new self carries on as it has and my old self is given a luxurious retirement. Many of us choose to be merchants or farmers so we don't have to worry about being left behind when our time is up."

"But still… It's so cruel to have so little time and then be forced to watch another version of yourself take your place."

Vanderburst gives me another sad smile, "Life is full of little innate cruelties. To live well is to learn to find the good beyond them. I've shared many a drink with my past selves before they expired, and can tell you that personal interaction is the best way to soothe an ailing heart. When my time comes I can't imagine how awful it would feel if the next me didn't even care to acknowledge my existence."

"Bringing us back to the point," Andora cuts in, "It seems likely that Hithe's radicalism is potentially caused by a desperation to leave a lasting impact, fueled by the knowledge that his new self didn't share that same goal."

"Yes, my lady. That's the most plausible scenario I can think of."

"Very well. We still don't know exactly what this Hithe is after, but having some insight into their mentality should help us predict their actions. If we operate under the knowledge that they may not have much time left we can conclude that whatever they're planning should be put into effect rather soon. As if I didn't already have enough on my plate."

"Well, if that's all I'll be going back to my comrades now," I say, making for the door. Nobody says anything as I leave, but as soon as the door is shut firmly behind me I hear subdued voices from within. I'm not sure whether they've turned to politics or family matters, but I don't feel any need to stick my head in where it's not wanted, so I leave.

As I walk through the foyer I see the contractor from the church idly talking with one of the servants. Curious, I stroll over, "Didn't you say you were really busy? I thought you went back to your regular work already."

"Ah, young one. With the unusual circumstances, I almost forgot I was given an additional missive when I was sent here. Would you happen to know where the one known as Morvin can be found? I have a parcel for them."

I feel a grip on my heart as I say, "I'm sorry, but he passed away a few days ago."

"Ah, that is most unfortunate."

An uncomfortable silence falls. After a few moments, I ask, "I have a rough idea of what that could be, would you mind leaving it with me?"

"Hmm… Under normal circumstances, I would have to refuse, but I believe exceptions can be made in light of our shared contact. Here, I hope you discern meaning from your friend's searching." He hands the parcel off, and I accept it gratefully.

I see the priest off and head to the study room I've been spending much of my time reading in. Sitting down at the corner desk I'm accustomed to.

I tear open the parcel and look over the documents within. As I'd suspected, they're the results of the query as to what ships went down around the time of the summer festival in Hornhaven.

Three merchant vessels and one fishing ship went down. The fifth, and first chronologically, ship sticks out from the others like a sore thumb.

The Djudirian royal envoy, bound for Rhydonia. Mysteriously, the ship was far off course, having completely shot past the inner sea between the continents and continuing along the northern coast of Kyltalia and Maulia before it met its demise northeast of Hornhaven.

The missive proclaims that no crew or passengers were found and all are presumed dead. Attached is a list of missing persons, starting with the members of the royal family.

Arnford Ludenia, the late King.

Sara Ludenia, the late Queen.

Arnstein and Alice Ludenia, the sole heirs of the King and Queen.