Most people would avoid meeting in the middle of the day when it came to clandestine operations. Most people wouldn’t meet directly and would use intermediaries, word-of-mouth, and be wary of watchful eyes. Eyes in the sky are a constant issue these days, even in the mage world–a cheap hobby drone could easily be retrofitted with an enhanced observation package to render the most utter secrecy absolutely moot.
Most people aren’t King. He’s the one who watches others. And no one gets the drop on him, at least, not in a way that he can’t control the outcome to favor him at every turn.
Today is no different. He’s meeting with his contacts on the ground in Opechea Falls on Tuesday afternoon, and trying to ascertain just how much damage Valosterla and her underlings have caused.
And, how much of a mess he’s going to have to clean up.
He’s here to put the next phase of this operation into motion. And that particular operation requires several moving parts to align perfectly in order to make this work. One of them, is a technician who has been setting up for an operation into the Asqualia Research Center, the premier research and magical artifact disposition center of the mage world.
The other more critical moving part is Drenar Rashalda, and his band of misfits whom he’s been leading around, searching for answers, and were responsible for part of the disaster at the mine. King mulls their involvement while he’s waiting for his contact at the small cafe just around the corner from the theater, sips a cup of tea, and traces the rim of the cup slowly with a well-manicured finger.
To everyone else, he’s just a face in the crowd with medium-length brown hair with just a touch of gray in a spot or two, soft brown eyes, and a smooth-worn face that has all the emotion of a slab of stone. He rarely allowed himself excitation in any direction when it came to feelings. Feelings got in the way of doing business, with the sole exception of knowing when someone was trustworthy or not. To the rest of the world, he’s an unremarkable medium-height male, and wearing a dark vest over a button-down shirt and slacks. An ancient pocket watch is tethered to a clasp, and he checks the time–a smartphone is always risky in his line of work, even given the simplicity it provides in keeping contacts, documents, and some other functions. But he still keeps a highly secured one with the bare minimal functions and all the impolite trackers disabled.
“Another cup of tea, sir?” the waitress asks with a polite tilt of her head. He glances up from his notebook of painstaking scripting and smiles politely.
“I’ll have one more, thank you, miss…Dublin?” He recalls her name from one of the cooks barking out an order to her from the kitchen five minutes prior. She blushes slightly at this, as if knowing a name is highly personal. “I’ll also have the club sandwich. Two, in fact. I received a note that my associate will be delayed.” She smiles lightly at this.
“Yes, absolutely, Mister…”
“Roland.” It’s the first name that comes to mind–rather unremarkable. He sees that she’s in her early thirties, lacking a wedding band, and given the state of this town, possibly lonely and lacking true friends. It’s a shame, really–she is quite decent-looking with mousy brown hair neatly tied back and colorful hazel eyes, perhaps she had missed the bandwagon to college in her early years and never could find a way out of this town. “A pleasure.”
She’s blushing even harder–they must be either lacking in suitable company in this town–a possibility that is more a probability, given the amount of time he’s spent here–or it’s been a bad day for her and she needs a reprieve from the mundaneness. “Yes, tea and two chicken clubs. I’m uh…actually I’m curious. Why the dress-up look? I get all sorts to come through here, but…not dressed like that.” He smiles lightly, not many actually comment on his attire.
“Professionalism can be carried anywhere, my dear. It’s a mindset as much as it is a physical element, and my work requires the highest degree of focus.” He’s not even lying when he says that, either, given the work he’s been doing jump-starting a mage revolution, undoing a seven-hundred-year exile of a few million dragons, and dealing with the one dragoness who has the resources to pull it off.
If only she weren’t so utterly savage and reprehensible, given her past. Crosomer had warned him that she was power-hungry, and he wished he’d seen the warning signs sooner. She had been very good at hiding behind the mask of a professional businesswoman for a long time and obscuring her own efforts in the Talons to the visibility of the world. Beneath that pale skin and rosy lips was a monster ready to devour the world if left unchecked.
King never left threats unchecked, and he certainly put forward efforts to mitigate the worst of it and mold people to choose better paths. This one, however, he had his work cut out for him. But the decent-looking girl named Dublin, he’d have to disappoint her.
It was safer for her, anyway.
“So you work as an upstart venture capitalist with millions of dollars?” she observes shrewdly. It’s not a bad guess. It’s just completely lacking in the scale of what he really does.
“Billions,” he states simply, and she laughs at this. Hiding in absurdity is always a delight of his. “Alas, it’s more of a trick of accounting, I don’t really have billions floating at any one time. And other people consider it their money.”
“Ah Roland, you’re a breath of fresh air! What brings you out here anyway? I think I’ve seen you a time or two before here, but I think Bernice was serving you,” she says with a contented sigh.
“Business. There are changes for the future of this town, and I hope they will be worthy investments,” he states simply.
“Hah, this place?” She laughs a little too loudly. “Pretty sure you should look at Monroe down the road, or Denver if you want to do that.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” he says with a slight smirk. “Oh, I’ll try the herbal tea this time. I like black tea, but I do like a little variety.”
“Of course,” she says and practically skips off. King allows himself one soft smile. The small moments are really where the magic is. He looks back to his notes and dossiers of all the known drakensouls and half-dragons in the area–and some who were decidedly off the regular registry.
Jimmy Cabresa had really screwed up, letting that medical data get into the hands of a mister Nicholas Deshandrea. A man he had heard of before as a master monster hunter and professional agent, and his even more well-known friend and fellow investigator, Levine Dillenger. They knew he existed, which is a problem in itself, and Dillenger is persistent to a fault. Both of them were now in contact and guarding Rashalda, the Shalindes, and DeVerdra. Rashalda had Awakened, the other two were not far behind him, and they all showed exceptional aptitude and raw strength that he had seen rarely before.
King knew the history of the Rashaldas. He knew of their potential.
And he also knew that Val had tangled with the Rashaldas before, long ago–with Alexander Rashalda, in fact. She hadn’t been forthcoming on the details, but he had correctly intuited a little obsession for grudges, and he suspects it’s not the only thing she’s not letting go of.
Which is why it was important for this Rashalda to stay off the radar. He had plans for him, and his friends. It was probable they were already trying to track down the other Talons operations in the area, but King didn’t know if they were aware of what they had planned for Asqualia. Dillenger and Deshandrea had gone effectively dark–a level of obstruction he found amusing because they were giving up resources they really needed in order to stay off the radar. But he wouldn’t underestimate any of them. Now, how to go about the next step…
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Rashalda was pseudo-leading the group, and he could be convinced to step in and save the day, even given his lack of training. But he wasn’t headstrong–he showed a degree of tactical and technical prowess to get through the mine and the fight against Crosomer in one piece. King does note there is the meeting this evening–perhaps if someone were to drop a hint–
There it is. The plan is in motion, he thinks with a smile. His miniature internal celebration is interrupted by the clanging of the tacky brass bell at the door, and someone sitting down across from him at the table, in the corner of the cafe.
“Problems, Lavernius?” King asks the newcomer in a quiet tone. The middle-aged blonde man with blue eyes shakes his head–he’s a little out of breath, as if he’d known he was late and tried to make up time. Bernard Lavernius. An old associate of his, from years ago who had walked back into the light after he met a certain dragon, currently his wife.
A shame, really. He is rather talented at teleportal technology and leyline navigation.
“The hardware shipped in. I’m moving it in now. We’ll be ready hopefully by Friday,” he states simply, but he’s anxious. “You know what we agreed to. You know how important it is.”
“Clandestine. I understand. Which is why Val is out of the loop on this one,” King states quietly as he takes another sip of tea. “So, no problems at all?”
“Nah. None so far. It's a cakewalk to get the arcane circuitry resoldered. You know I did this for you for years, King. I didn’t do this lightly this time. I’ve got a family now. Kids. If Val ever gets word of this, she’ll leverage them because she thinks fear is the great motivator.” King puts up a hand of easement.
“I know, Bernard. I didn’t ask you to do this for a debt. I asked it as a favor because the alternative is…something I really can’t afford in my conscience,” King says with a slight outward breath. “We’ll be in and out. Keycards will be spliced to get us in, down to the vault. You’ve already provided the most complete prints, I don’t expect much else, given the security level, and that Volkir might be alive in there somewhere. Hiding, as some of the old school dragons are wont to do.” Lavernius looks shocked.
“The Volkir?” he says barely over a whisper. “The guy that caused the deaths of two million dragons? I thought he was dead!”
“I think the reports of his demise are…exaggerated. Asqualia was a construct he treated as a home, and I believe there is a probability he is alive…and he might have feelers out. He may know what’s coming. He’s a clever old dragon. Which is why it’s imperative to stay as quiet as possible.”
“But you really think the notes for the Kilnstar’noth could help us? Could we really undo Ascension?” King nods only once.
“It’s another step. I have other teams at two regions scouring for old Dragon Empire archives locations. You needn’t worry about those operations. Just promise me that after this happens, you go to ground, keep your nose clean, and never, ever get even remotely close to Talons operations. I’ll keep you in the loop.”
Lavernius nods wearily. “I made my choices a long time ago, King. I worked with you. Some of the stuff we’ve done…we don’t plan on it, but sometimes, people got hurt. Or worse. Are we really the good guys on this, versus the Conclave?” King sets down his tea.
“Good and evil are arbitrary constructs, written by the victors of history. One mans’ terrorist is another mans’ freedom fighter. But there is nothing as egregious as the near-extinction of a species, and what the Conclave is doing to all Kin. The domino effect the Ascension events had on mage society has left us on the brink, and I believe there were other unintended effects of the artifact when it triggered,” King says with a look of concern.
“You better not trust Val on this. If your goal is to fix the world, make sure that murder happy dragoness is–”
“Bernard. This is not how we do business,” King says as if he were scolding a child. “She will be useful for many endeavors, and despite some of her…predispositions…she is an effective business partner.”
“Just make sure that when you’re done reversing the Ascension, and the Conclave goes up in flames, you torch that device. Bury the pieces in as many unreachable places as you can,” Lavernius warns him. “I doubt I’ll have much input. Best case, I keep my job and continue to be an unimportant technician out of all of this and fade into obscurity. Worst case…Make sure Maribelle and the kids get through this in one piece. I have a…contingency set aside.” Lavernius swallows uncomfortably.
“It won’t come to that.”
“But you don’t know for certain. You’re good, King, you’re the best at what you do…but people like Val are irrational. Sheer, utter chaos. You can’t predict every outcome.” He slides a biometric ID discreetly under his notebook. “Access card. Meet me tomorrow night. I’ll explain the layout and go over every step, it’s best to survey it yourself. This card will work once, so we can’t waste it. Beyond that, they’ll pick you up on the teleportal access logs, this is an admin-level clearance. This was not easy to get.”
King smiles faintly. Everything is in order so far. “Perfect. Now, I have one question for you…your daughter knows DeVerdra, correct?”
“...What about her? Leave them out of this King, I know that look and I know that tone. They’re kids, not pawns.” King closes his notebook, and leans in.
“Ask me who DeVerdra is.”
“What?” Lavernius looks legitimately puzzled.
“Ask me. Who she is.”
“Her mother? Kiera? She works in the hospital, that’s all I know, very friendly, strong as a…well, a dragon I suppose, but that isn’t my business to know. I don’t pry into people's lives, unlike you.” Lavernius looks distinctly irritated now. Best to cut to the chase. King leans in and whispers something to him. He lets out a gasp and instantly goes pale.
“No. No way. How the hell do you know that? They’ll find you and kill you if they ever find out you know that.”
“Maybe that’s the plan,” King says with a calm expression. “I have backup plans. And rest assured, I do not enact such plans without a great degree of contemplation of the risks. You…understand what I am telling you, yes?”
“If things go to hell…She’s the best shot at fixing our mess. Fates King, you play one dangerous game.” Lavernius slumps in his seat, and the waitress comes back with the meals and an additional tea for King. He grabs the meal reluctantly after a moment, and King nods.
“Don’t we all, Bernard. Sometimes I wonder if the costs of what we are trying to do are more than we can ever bear. But change has to happen. And you know why.” Lavernius nods weakly, all while trying to enjoy his sandwich that likely tastes like ash in his mouth now. “Your daughter is meeting with some of the local talent of the Talons. Don't try to dissuade her. It will be safer if my plan works. Just make sure that when Friday rolls around, she is free and clear of Asqualia and the Mercadian Promenade,” King cautions him. Lavernius glares at him.
“You knew.”
“Of course I knew she Awakened. It’s not surprising. And the best way I can keep her safe is to direct her to others who are more adept than I initially gave credit. Well, the best plan for now. We’ll be in touch.” Lavernius finishes his meal, and rises slowly, but not before giving King one last warning shot.
“Anything happens to Kelly, I will come and bury you myself, King. People aren’t pawns.” He doesn’t take offense to this, he had dropped rather inconvenient information on this man whom he considered a friend.
One of few friends he had, now that he thought about it. Maybe he needed more of those and fewer business partners. King leaves the bill total plus a generous tip, and a polite note for Dublin.
He hopes he’ll be able to revisit this place, if all goes according to plan. It was sort of…nice, having someplace quiet, where the risks weren’t sky-high.
But he’d been down that road before. Now he had a failed marriage, and a son who didn’t even know who he was, and it filled him with a slight remorse. Maybe when this is over…that’s one thing I can fix. Among many.
The bell clangs agitatedly behind him.