Throughout the process of Eresthanon’s initiation, Aaliyah Dean had not so much as wiggled an eyebrow. Her face had remained fixed in its natural state: pissy.
Some people — men in particular; the mundane, non-magical sort most of all — had a tendency to read the natural state of her face as some kind of insult against the raw sex appeal of their cocks or whatever it was men got their panties all twisted up about whenever a woman didn’t fawn over their bullshit. Well, fuck ‘em.
All those assholes were lucky she wasn’t (still) the feisty type who would gladly slap someone for calling her a bitch. She’d never had a problem holding her own against dickheads with an attitude. Even when they had sexual dimorphism to carry their water for them, she’d scrapped enough times she could pretty much mitigate the disadvantages biology had unfairly foisted on her.
These days, she was stronger than the strongest man on the damn planet (weirdos like her excluded, of course). It didn’t make her taller — because of fucking course it didn’t — but being a weirdo came with plenty of perks.
One of those perks was not, apparently, working alone.
In the six years since Aaliyah had joined the Vigiles, she’d managed to avoid a partner almost the entire time, which wasn’t unheard of for investigative positions. For the past two years, however, she’d been a Quaesitor in the rough equivalent to a major case squad — detectives who investigated particularly serious violations of the Four Pillars. In that squad, working with a partner was standard operating procedure. Even still, she’d managed to duck it until today.
Now, she was saddled with some elf dude and it was, apparently, a Big Deal. No doubt after she’d trained him in the basics of their job, she’d be stuck with him. Aaliyah didn’t know quite what to make of this Eresthanon guy so far. He seemed respectful and professional, but he was also a pretty boy. Those were almost always more trouble than even the average man was worth.
She did have to wonder why he looked so human. She’d always heard elves were walking freak show nightmares that looked like a cross between the demon guy from Death Note and a Slenderman. Maybe he was a half-elf? Were those a thing?
And his clothes. A light-colored suit with a pale, almost pastel, sweater instead of a shirt and tie. She didn’t know if he was wearing boat shoes or penny loafers, but her instincts said he definitely was. He looked like the guy in the backseat in a Night at the Roxbury sketch. Or maybe the keyboardist for the Dick in a Box guys. All he needed was a stupid chain to complete the look.
The elf didn’t look sleazy, actually, but it was the vibe. Sure, he’d been professional in both meetings and he hadn’t leered or ogled her, plus he’d spoken respectfully and apparently Khaldun had found nothing objectionable in his survey responses…
Okay, come to think of it, maybe she was just fuming over having to partner up with someone and it was coloring her judgment. She didn’t normally let stuff like this get to her, but this wasn’t a case so she wasn’t in the right headspace to compartmentalize everything like she usually did on the job.
In fact, it had been a couple weeks since she’d had a case and that was wearing on her more than she wanted to admit, too. This elf guy might not be a total piece of shit and she could consider giving him the benefit of the doubt. From what little Khaldun had said, he had a pile of valuable skills, not least of which was an impressive knowledge and command of magic, even by elven standards, and he’d basically erased all his memories to take on the job.
That suggested a level of commitment and dedication she could respect. Then again, maybe he just had a shitty life and wanted to move on. She could relate to that, too.
Aaliyah took a breath, in and out. Not a deep breath — she didn’t want the rookie to see her composing herself or give him a reason to stare at her tits — but a mindful, centering breath nonetheless.
Finally, she addressed the elf. “Alright, Tribune, I’m sure you’ve got a lot of questions, but let’s save it until I get through my spiel, okay?”
The elf regarded her with a small, polite smile, and simply waited for her to continue. A man who knew when to keep his damn mouth shut? That was promising. She gestured for him to follow and left the conference room without looking back to see if he had, explaining the gist of the job over her shoulder.
“So, the first thing you gotta know is what we do. You and I are a little like them cops on the Law & Order. When there’s some big violation of one of the Pillars, we go snoop around, talk to people, and find out who’s to blame and who needs an asskicking. Sometimes, we just collect evidence and testimony to build up a case then refer it to the magistrates and they deal with all the incarceration and so forth. Other times, we gotta go chase the bad guys down, okay? You with me so far?”
The elf nodded politely, following her through the lobby, the door marked PRIVATE, and into the hall behind the reception desk. Aaliyah noted a small smile on the elf’s face as they passed through the door and thought he was, for some reason, amused by it.
Personally, she thought the design aesthetic at VC headquarters was classy — elegant but not overstated — and she was particularly fond of the fine details that went into a lot of the woodwork and glass. If the fop at the front desk had his way, the lobby would be a flamboyant nightmare as affected as his name, Trey Wilde.
The eyes, they roll. Why didn’t he just call himself Trey Cliché? A little more on the nose, perhaps, but it rhymed so at least it would add some style.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
Aaliyah’s next stop on the orientation tour was the Cage, a barbican in the middle of the building made of ancient enchanted stone with actual metal portcullises on both sides. It was the first and most severe barrier to entry into the more sensitive areas of HQ and one of the few spaces that didn’t match the decor found in the lobby. The chamber itself was not large, but it could accommodate about a dozen people at a time if they didn’t care about their personal space.
As they approached the first portcullis it rose silently in its concealed tracks. Eresthanon gave the structure a measuring, analytical look. He was probably examining the magics placed on the chamber. Aaliyah was no great shakes at most magic, relying on her smarts and innate capabilities more than anything else, but even she knew the stone and metal bars were all covered in a delicate tracework of enchantment. Coming back from a job one time, she had forgotten to take off the glasses that let her see traces of certain kinds of magic and it had been like walking up to a flashbang that never stopped exploding.
After stepping into the barbican, the heavy, metal grille fell down behind them with a hellacious crash, sealing them in. Aaliyah watched Eresthanon out of the corner of her eye; if he startled, she could snicker at the dainty little elf. He didn’t give her the satisfaction, probably because he was some kind of selfish asshole.
A recessed window was carved out of one of the walls between the portcullises. The metal bars covering the window were much thinner than the grilles and there was a wide, rectangular opening at the bottom. On the other side of the window sat a fat old woman sporting winged glasses and a beehive hairdo.
When she spoke, it was with the rough-edged voice of someone who smoked enough they had to be trying to avenge some perceived wrong their lungs had done to them.
“Wadda ya want?” the old woman rasped.
The surly attitude came as no surprise to Aaliyah, who knew the old bitch was as rotten as she was ugly, but it usually caught the unaware off guard. Like the portcullis, it produced nothing more from the quiet elf than a couple calm blinks.
“Enid, this is Eresthanon, our new Tribune Legatus. Eresthanon, this is Enid,” Aaliyah said.
The elf inclined his head slightly. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Enid.”
Enid, charming little monster that she was, grunted and stared at both of them, saying nothing. Aaliyah let her stare for a few seconds, begrudgingly impressed that Eresthanon seemed perfectly composed in the face of her ongoing leer. His equanimity only made Enid leer harder.
To Aaliyah’s surprise, Enid broke the silence before she did, even if it was just to repeat herself.
“Wadda ya want?”
“Our new Tribune needs to be attuned to the system,” Aaliyah said.
Enid looked the elf up and down, still failing to elicit a response beyond a placid smile, and grunted, “Badge.”
The elf pulled out the wallet Khaldun had given him earlier and deftly opened it with one hand, presenting the badge within. Enid gave the elf a look of deep incredulousness and held up her empty hands.
“What’m I supposed to do with this fancy bit a nothin’ you handed over, pretty boy?”
She tilted her head, giving the slot at the bottom of the caged window a significant glance. Eresthanon chuckled softly and slid the slim leather case onto the desk.
“Were you born yesterday or something?” Enid rasped.
“About three hours ago, technically,” Eresthanon replied calmly.
Enid cocked an eyebrow at him for a few seconds before scooping up the wallet and setting it into a plain wooden box the size of a small humidor. The old woman laid a hand on the box and an intricate network of lines, shining with gold light, traced themselves along the wooden surfaces. Then she slid the box up to the window slot.
“Hand,” she croaked.
Eresthanon placed his hand on the wooden box.
Aaliyah remembered this process from her own orientation; the box would draw on the magical energy of the person touching it and forge a mystic connection. The Vigiles routinely dedicated objects to its members in this way to ensure their equipment couldn’t be used by anyone outside the organization.
Sometimes, they dedicated the object to an individual so only they could use it, which had additional advantages. For the most part, the bond between a specific vigilum and their badge of office allowed the use of any standard equipment as long as they had their badge on them.
What Aaliyah remembered most clearly — because it was so much more visceral than all that nerdy magic bullshit — was the sensation of the bonding, a kind of cold that tingled and pulled on her flesh deep below the skin. The sensation had been everywhere, for her, not just in her hand. It had been uncomfortable, but not unbearable.
The bonding had a much more pronounced effect on the elf. When Enid activated the enchantment, his entire body seized up like he was being electrocuted. Eresthanon’s too-wide mouth spread into an awful rictus grin and Aaliyah thought she glimpsed a second row of smaller, jagged fangs behind the first.
She could see why writers who’d want to cast elves in a good light made them either ethereally beautiful but generally human-looking or funny little helper gremlins. A real elf might have an otherworldly quality that could seem beautiful at a glance — even the taller, lankier ones that were supposed to be more common than Eresthanon’s roughly human dimensions — but if they were reaching for you with their spindly hands, maw agape, and a glint of magic (or something else) in their huge eyes? Shudder.
Eresthanon released the box with a gasp. He took a few quick steps away but wasn’t quite stumbling backwards, and quickly regained his bearings. Enid was gleefully sneering at him.
“Aura-bonding to an object is simple enough magic, but creating a bond through that object to a network is an interesting approach,” Eresthanon said in a slightly breathless tone. “Mildly overwhelming for Creaturae of a more ethereal nature, although I shouldn’t think the Vigiles sees many applications from the fae and ghosts seem even less likely.”
A yellow-toothed grin was Enid’s only reply. She opened the wooden box and slid the badge wallet back under the slot. The elf gave her a long, considering look, his face once again politely impassive. Aaliyah thought he may have been fit to burst, but he just gave Enid a polite smile and winked. That seemed to confuse and unnerve the old bag more than anything Aaliyah had ever seen. She still wasn’t thrilled to have a partner, but she was starting to think the elf would need a lot less babysitting than she’d expected.
“Come on,” Aaliyah said, “we have to go downstairs to get your kit sorted.”
Aaliyah stepped up to the second portcullis and Eresthanon fell in step behind her as it slid up into the roof.