Returning Lynn's gaze was a cold metal cylinder, six chambers without a round. Gingerly, she guided a mithril cartridge into the firearm with her slender digits. Erratic clinks filled the car, resulting from an unsteady grip—shaky movements induced either by nerves or the uneven roads they rumbled through. Each bullet inserted caught Garreth's ear. As the sixth entered its receptacle, he shot his partner a half-lidded side glance through unkempt, pitch-coloured bangs.

"This your first time in the field?" he listlessly asked, his husky voice scarcely louder than the engine.

Lynn's pointed ears twitched as she registered his question; meekly, she turned to him. "Yes, sir."

"Well, hate to burst your bubble, rookie, but I'd advise against bringing a gun."

"But... revolvers are standard issue."

"Yeah, and this is far from a standard assignment. Enclosed space, multiple bluebloods, heavy machinery. Carrying a six-shooter into an environment like that'll only end poorly."

"Um..."

"There's only one weapon you can rely on in this line of work," Garreth's palm rested loosely on the steering wheel; he tugged his trench coat, exposing the butt of his sabre. "Dwarven steel."

"A sword? Against ranged combatants?"

"You ambush them or close the gap. An encounter shouldn't last more than a minute. It's the secret to staying alive in this profession."

"H-huh..."

"You bring a handkerchief?"

"Uh... yes, sir. They're standard issue."

"Good. Handkerchiefs make for decent gags."

"G-gags?"

"To cast their spells, magi rely on incantations. Thus, their greatest asset is their voices. Catch one off-guard, shove a hanky in their mouths, and you'll have neutralised the threat."

"I... I see..."

"Whatever. You'll get a handle on things in time. Just stick with me, and you'll be fine."

Lynn set her pistol on her lap and leaned against the door.

Peering through the fogged-up window, she glimpsed the hazy silhouettes of high-rise buildings and industrial plants characteristic of South Wenton. The city she'd known all her childhood had become unrecognisable in the past few years. A once-blue ether had much darkened; billows of grey anchored the ashy morning sky to the far-off smokestacks peeking over the horizon. And in place of singing birds were cloud-faring airships lifted by stitched-together off-white gas bags.

The two bounced in their seats as they exited the main thoroughfare. Rattling alongside a stretch of railroad tracks, they pulled up opposite an imposing brick structure. As the car screeched to a halt, Garreth took notice of the commotion outside. Several horse-drawn carriages had preceded them, with uniformed men anxiously surrounding the entrance. Spates of onlookers had gathered, hemming them in.

Recognising the balding, stubby man by the gates as the chief inspector, Garreth popped out of the vehicle and slapped the roof of his car. "Let's move, rookie. I have a bad feeling about this."

"Oh... yes, sir!" Lynn holstered her revolver as she fumbled the door open.

And stepping outside, the suffocating stench of burning coal assailed her. Stories of the factory district's air quality occasionally came up in conversation, but she never imagined it'd be this dreadful. Her lungs seared with every breath taken. Tempted as she was to throw her arm over her nose, however, she soldiered on, determined to put on a brave face around her partner. He himself didn't seem bothered by the fumes one bit.

As the pair squeezed through the crowd and showed the cordon their badges, the chief inspector narrowed his eyes at them. He identified the tall, lean man strolling toward him as Garreth—his stubbled jawline and crooked posture were unmistakable. But the freckled brunette nervously treading on his heels was an oddity to him. Though she undeniably sported the Bureau's signature black garb, involving an elf in a case like this was unheard of.

And Lynn's presence gave rise to worried murmurs and suspicious glares. Used to this sort of reception back home, the girl passively lowered her head and kept quiet.

"Just hang back and let me do all the talking," Garreth hushedly said to her in an aside, zeroing in on the man ahead.

"Yes, sir..."

"And keep your wits about you. The zone's in disarray."

"The... zone, sir?"

Before Lynn could question him any further, Garreth came face-to-face with the chief inspector.

As the stout man was half his height, he had to look up to meet Garreth's gaze. An oily sheen reflected off his sweat-lathered brow; he twirled the bristles on his lip with faux repose. "Ah... Garreth," he said, a lopsided grin widening his dimpled cheeks. "Long time no see! I assumed another nosy bigwig had bumbled in, what with the fancy automobile parked over yonder. Brass spares no expense in providing the Bureau of Magickal Affairs with top-of-the-line—"

"Cut the shit, Henning. What am I dealing with in there?"

The chief inspector paused, only to drop his hollow smile. "Four magi. A pyromancer and a geomancer among them. They've taken the overseers and about two dozen workers hostage."

"Their demands?"

"Cessation of all machine-based production in Wenton and safe passage to Aubury Station, an absurd request from delusional terrorists. I doubt they're keen on reaching a compromise."

"And? What's the part you're not telling me?"

"Nothing gets past you, huh?" Henning said solemnly, tilting his head toward the two small canvas-draped masses amid the officers.

Blood had seeped through the fabric, staining it crimson. Lynn averted her eyes, realising what she was looking at. She could not stomach the sight. Unwaveringly, Garreth directed his attention back to the chief inspector. "I take it the casualties could have been avoided?"

"I was only doing what I thought was for the best. In hostage situations, time is of the essence. It was either dawdle as the clock was ticking or take action."

"Look where that got you."

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

"We already outnumbered them three to one, so I took the gamble. I'll admit: I underestimated them. Not ten minutes into the assault, a quarter of my men were wounded. And yes, two of the hostages were caught in the crossfire. It was a bad call, and I own up to that. On the bright side, though, we did get one of the terrorists. Got them real good."

"And how much time has elapsed since then?"

"Half an hour, give or take."

"Then we haven't a second to waste," Garreth strode past Henning and motioned Lynn to stay close. "Come on, rookie. We're heading inside. There's no telling how the terrorists will react if their comrade succumbs to his wounds. Nothing's as volatile as an agitated blueblood."

The chief inspector turned around, eyebrow lifted. "You're just going to waltz in there?"

"It won't go as badly as your attempt. I can guarantee you that much. And don't even think about interfering. You'd only be getting in the way."

Lynn awkwardly nodded at Henning as she joined her partner. The chief inspector merely clicked his tongue. Shifting his focus on the girl, he pursed his lips. "Hold on, one last thing."

Garreth stopped dead, back still facing the chief inspector.

"I was always under the impression you operated solo," Henning said, tone stern. "So? Mind shedding light on the extra baggage? Did you think I'd overlook your budding new companion?"

Garreth dipped his hands into his pockets and huffed. "There's been a policy change. Bureau agents are to work in pairs. I was opposed to the decision."

"Be that as it may, an elf of all people?"

"A half-elf. She's not as attuned to the magicks as her pureblooded contemporaries. I see no problem having her here."

"That's not the issue here..."

"And? Was there more you wanted to say?"

As his apprehensions failed to provoke Garreth, the chief inspector backed down and pivoted on the heel of his unblemished boot. "No... that will be all."

The two agents parted ways from a dissatisfied Henning and continued on their path, marching into the compound of the occupied steel mill. A pall of black smoke hung over the place. As they advanced, the clamour from the streets grew fainter; an eerie silence enveloped the space, periodically broken by the distant clanks of construction work. Their footsteps crunched across the gravel-laden ground, echoing throughout the scrap-cluttered property.

A dense smog permeated the area, rendering visibility poor. Twisted steel bars had prevented all means of entry; the main building was effectively sealed from the inside. To Garreth, this was proof the terrorists were committed to holding out here. They'd have their terms met or die trying. Such magi were the most troublesome foe to face. Vigilantly, he clasped the hilt of his sabre.

While Garreth surveyed the exterior of the steelworks, Lynn trailed closely behind. She riveted her gaze on him, yet her voice stuck in her throat. She was unsure whether to express her gratitude now or to stifle it until an opportunity properly presented itself. Aware of her restlessness, Garreth spoke up. "Something on your mind, rookie?"

"Y-yes?!" Lynn jumped.

"You've been gawking at me for a while now. I'd rather you tell me what's up now than have you distracted in enemy territory."

"S... sorry. I just... wanted to thank you for sticking up for me back there."

The man shook his head. "Don't mistake what I did for kindness, kid. Henning may be a dwarf, but he's as spineless as they come. Bastard's in it only for the glory, even if it means mucking up the case. That's how he's always been. Calling his crap out is routine at this point."

"E-even so, I thought to let you know..."

"Save it for later. Right now, there are more pressing matters at hand."

A masked man glared down at them through an open window on the second story, equipped with a silvery staff and a plain porcelain visage.

He wore a dark hood over his head and a tattered cloak on his back. With an impenetrable countenance, he craned forward and sized up the pair. The steel barricades obstructing the opening beneath him quivered with energy. "So, the Bureau of Magickal Affairs decides to show itself!" the man scoffed, his voice denoting adolescence. "Does this mean our deal is a no-go? You know what happens now, right? Those hostages aren't coming out of this alive."

"Wait," Garreth wrenched his hands up. "Let's not be hasty here. It's the boys in blue that want you dead. I'm here to negotiate with you on behalf of my agency."

"There's nothing to negotiate. Either accept our terms or kiss the hostages goodbye!"

"I was getting to that. Now, who am I speaking to?"

"Why do you care?"

"Head office will want names if any paperwork needs to be done. They're the ones who follow through with demands. By the way, I'm Garreth. This here's my partner, Lynn."

The young man hesitated before responding in kind. "Ed. The name's Ed."

"Well, Ed, you strike me as a bright kid. Surely, you're aware that your demands are a little on the unreasonable side? Do you frankly believe all of Wenton can change its ways overnight?"

"That I do," Ed riposted without skipping a beat, "because that's precisely how it happened. We geomancers could find work in the steel business just six months ago. Then, those machines were introduced. In just a day, we were all replaced, thousands of jobs vacated on a whim. If the bigwigs on top can kick us to the curb without batting an eye, they can do the same with their hunks of scrap."

"I get how you feel, but—"

"Talamh stailinn!"

A cluster of steel spikes lunged forward, stopping mere inches from Garreth's forehead. He faltered not one bit. Shimmering ripples rhythmically pulsed through the pointed protrusions as though tied to the magus' rising heartbeat. Taken aback, Lynn grabbed her sidearm. She cleared leather and drew a bead on the terrorist above. "D-drop your weapon!"

"You don't get shit!" Ed roared, striking the ground with the tail end of his rod. "You know nothing of what it's like to train for something all your life only to be cast away like vermin! The feeling of being branded a menace, the everyday struggle of making ends meet... you'll never know what it's like! You're just dogs to the state, paid to quash those whose lives have been fucked over by an unfair system!"

"Alright, my bad," Garreth held out his arm and signalled Lynn to stand easy. Though reluctant, she slid her gun back into its holster and let her partner handle it. "I take it back. I can't possibly comprehend what you've been through."

"Damn right, you can't!"

"That being said, is this really the best method to go about things? You're only harming your fellow magi by further tainting their reputation."

"So you suggest we stay silent and do nothing as our freedoms are stripped away? What we're doing is justice for our people! Sacrifices are inevitable!"

"And your friend that's injured—are they one of those sacrifices?"

Though his face was concealed, the young magus' displeasure was palpable. "You sure know how to run your mouth."

"We can give them the medical attention they need. Just release the hostages and turn yourselves in. There doesn't have to be any more casualties."

"That's none of your business. We have a healer with us."

"Even the most gifted of healers have trouble treating bullet wounds. What your friend needs is a licensed surgeon. If the infection doesn't kill them, the mithril poisoning eventually will."

"I've had enough of your crap!" Ed snarled. "If our demands aren't met by the next hour, we'll start releasing the hostages one by one in body bags. Have I made myself clear?"

The two men locked eyes, their icy glares intense; neither appeared inclined to break away. Lynn monitored Ed and girded her loins, expecting the exchange to escalate. Instead, Garreth swung around and beckoned to his partner. "Understood. I'll relay your offer to my superiors. Pick up the pace, rookie. We're out of here."

Lynn lingered for a few seconds, then whipped around as Garreth's order dawned on her. "H-huh?" Bewildered, Edward merely stared at them.

"Did you not hear me? I said we're leaving."

"O... oh... yes, sir!"

A few heavy steps, and she trotted away from the wary magus. Catching up with her partner, she took one last glimpse at Ed. His outline scattered and vanished in the haze the farther they went. Soon, he was out of view. Innocent lives were at stake, and Lynn knew they wouldn't make it to headquarters in time. As the exit became visible, she clutched her chest and confronted Garreth.

"A... are we truly going to head back to headquarters and leave all those children in there?"

The man stood still, darting a glance in the opposite direction. Wordlessly, he strolled up to the dull red wall beside her. "Considering the drive here took a little over an hour, doing so would be resigning them to their graves." A wooden pallet rested conspicuously against the discoloured bricks. Hunching over, he grasped the splintery row of boards. And Lynn observed as he slid it aside, unveiling a waist-high opening fit for a halfling.