I didn’t know what to expect when I first heard of the Quest Distribution Center, but it sure wasn’t this.

In the center of an ivory dais suspended over a pool of red water, a swarm of electric blue panels swirled around Owl. There appeared to be no sorcery nor light nor technology involved: as far as my heightened senses could tell, the ever-spinning wheel of tasks and jobs were projected upon the air itself.

There were many questions I wanted to ask, yet I held my tongue for two reasons. Owl seemed to be locked in a deep state of concentration, and—

“Look at all this garbage, eh? What kinda jerkjack slapped up a request to find a lost cat? Oh, nevermind. Little old lazy. Screw it, I’ve already delegated the damned thing. I’m a pretty nice guy, right? Right?”

—unfortunately, we weren’t alone.

“Kids these days, huh? I remember the days when every mission was a big deal. I’m getting pretty old, I guess, but age has lost its meaning. Especially when you’re rich like me. Well, I’m rich in both soul and wealth, y’know?”

When we first entered, a crystalline raven swooped down from the rafters and hopped along the suspended path. Behind her mask, Owl merely grimaced and pretended that it wasn’t there as she went about her business.

“Hey robo-doggy buddy, whaddya think? Pretty sweet, huh? Designed the place myself. Not me, but my master did. Or are we two the same? Same in two? If you clone yourself twice and die, which clone is the real you?”

Because I accidentally acknowledged its existence with a nod and camera-to-crystal-eye contact, it hasn't shut up since.

Such was the problem with dealing with superiors. Can’t do a thing to them, verbal or otherwise, otherwise they’ll make trouble for you later on.

Doubly so when the bird in question was the direct familiar of the most powerful person this side of the Frontier.

Given Cassandra’s status as a world-wide wanted fugitive, I had the idea of looking her up in the Oracle’s database to see what we could find. I was tempted to rely on Jaxl or Tapio, but I didn’t want to let them know what I was up to. Me and Owl had to strike alone — we couldn’t put anybody else at risk.

We found Cassandra and the bounty card assigned to her with ease. She was a dangerous convict with hundreds of murders to her name, and had been steadily climbing the threat charts of the Oracles for some time now. Her most recent involvement in wiping out Blood Gear Inc. moved her up to Mythos II, one of the highest there was.

And seeing as that’s all we could find on her — there was nothing about her current whereabouts or any active leads (she had been quite efficient in silencing those voices) — I decided to, against my better judgement, turn to the chatterbox bird for help.

“You want to know more about the Oracle’s threat classification system?” the crystal raven parroted. “That information doesn’t come free, ya know.”

I reared up on my hind legs. “Name your price. I’ve got marketable talents.”

The raven looked at me for some time. Then, hopping directly in front of me, said, “Knock knock.”

I knew this one. “Who’s there?”

“Robin.”

“Robin’ you. This is a stick up, sucker.”

The next thing I knew, I was looking down the barrel of an admittedly very tiny pistol held by the raven’s feathers. Then the raven broke into hysterical laughter before I could even process the sudden weapon.

To my abject horror, I found myself leaking a giggle.

“I get it!” I said. “Robin sounds like robbing, and since most people don’t expect to get held up by a joke, it’s unexpected and funny! And because you’re a bird, there’s irony, because a robin is also a bird. Hah. That’s really clever. Hehe. He…”

To my side, Owl combined disgust and annoyance into a single, dispirited shrug. I shut up, overcome with a pang of shame and disgrace from laughing at something so stupid.

“That’s the first time somebody’s ever laughed at my jokes,” the raven said, wiping away a crystal tear. He hopped up to the dais and tilted his head at us. “You guys are alright. But enough of that — I think I should actually do my job as a database assistant. So say, what’re you doing here in person? Everything’s online these days. Especially this kinda stuff.”

“I have a few questions,” I blurted out before Owl could shut me down. “I’m kinda new around here…”

“Vivian, right? The newbie? Go on ahead. I’ve been told to make special accommodations for you in particular.”

Was it because of my known Sigil? Or was it because Nia put in a good word for me when she got back to whatever her real job was? I decided to not to think about it until later and just ask the biggest question burning in my head:

“So, about the threats…”

“It’s a little archaic,” the raven replied, “but there’s ten classifications according to any particular entity’s potential for destruction. There’s Sprite, Remnant, Mythos, and Monarch. Remnant and Mythos are divided up into three individual tears, while Monarch and Sprite only have one. They only need one. Monarchs are the most dangerous people, creatures, and phenomena currently in the Frontier and beyond, while Sprites are a class of otherwise unknown creatures that are generally helpful and peaceful.”

I did a count in my head. “That’s only eight.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

The raven shrugged. “Don't worry about it.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry about it,” the raven repeated, more forcefully. “Ask one of those silver foxes you’re with. They’re probably more up to date than I am.”

It was an obvious and blatant lie, but if Owl wasn’t going to question it, neither would I. “Barring that, we need some help tracking down somebody,” I said, helping along the topic change. “We’re looking for a person associated with Cassandra.” I gestured to the card Owl pulled up. “If you can make another accommodation, can you help us a bit here…?”

The raven stared at me silently. “Give an inch, and they’ll pluck the feathers right off your body. Lemme ask.” He pecked at his feet, looked around, as though making sure nobody was eavesdropping, then sighed. “Huh. Didn’t expect the bossman to agree, but he did. So tell me about who you’re looking for.”

I told him about the woman I saw accompanying Cassandra during the Arlequins gig. The raven familiar pulled up a small tablet and swiped until he reached something.

“The Prince’s wards caught them sneaking about the Empress of Ice’s domain. Looks like she’s patrolling the city for whatever reason. Doesn’t seem to be registered as a Hunter or foreign citizen either, so it isn’t my problem.” A brush of his wing sent the data to our devices. “Any further favors are gonna cost you a little more than a few chuckles. So good luck out there. You might need it.”

Before I could ask him what he meant by that, he flapped off and melted back into the shadows surrounding the upper chamber.

Not only were we given the live location of Cassandra’s comrade, we were also gifted with the knowledge of every single Hunter and Office currently operating in the Granport region. I followed Owl’s lead as we redeployed in the area and stuck to the frozen pathways snaking through the skeletal skyscrapers, occasionally dipping into an alleyway or building to dodge other Hunters.

We soon settled on a sniper’s nest located on the sixth story of what I presumed to be once a department store. Instead of setting up her rifle and bipod, Owl pulled out a sleek silver knife with a red trigger on the side; her body language told me that she intended to wait for our mystery target to cross our path, rather than taking the initiative.

“Go ahead,” Owl said. “You wanted to talk? Talk, then.”

I was caught entirely off guard. “Huh?”

“Don’t give me that, you little shit. You’ve been bugging me nonstop since I first met you, and now, I’m hearing things. Cut that shit out. I’ll tell you whatever you want.” She pulled back the hood of her mist cloak and scowled at me, but there wasn’t any sort of weight behind it. To me, it looked like she was merely exhausted.

I was somewhat aware of her needs and desires. I assumed it was the latent result of whatever telepathic link we now had, but I wasn’t aware that it went both ways.

“Um. I’d like to know a little bit more about you,” I said.

Owl’s expression soured further. “That’s it? You could’ve asked Tapio or looked at my Hunter’s dossier.”

“I… wanted to hear it from you.”

She shook her head. “You’ve already seen it. Nia told me about how you fished me out of that gutter. Well, that gutter used to be my home.”

Partially against my will, I recalled the fractured images that passed me by when I first saw a glimpse of her life. A memory of destitution.

Owl looked away. “Why do you care, anyway? Somebody paying you for this?”

An all-consuming emptiness. “I think I could work with you better if I knew more.”

“You’re really set on this whole partnership thing, huh?” She smirked. “That’s pathetic. Hunters work alone. They might band together for jobs like this, but we’re all alone in the end. That’s just how it is. What do you want me to say? I don’t have anything novel to say. I killed for money, then used that money to buy augments. Then I killed more using those augments. Repeat ad nauseam. I could’ve turned away from this life at any time, but I didn’t. What else do you want me to say?”

As selfish as it was, I knew exactly what I wanted her to say. But there would be time to elaborate on that later; I already had a statement in mind.

“I want to know your heart.”

She looked at me like I had just punched her in the gut. Then she laughed, a bitter, broken sound. “You’ve already seen all there is.”

Owl was clearly keeping something from me; something had caused her to snap and, under duress and outside influence, had caused her to seek total destruction. If I could isolate that factor and find a way to solve it, helping her would be a viable possibility.

Even now, Owl was operating with the bare minimum amount of equipment. She hadn’t bothered getting her attack drones replaced since her first encounter with Jaxl and I, and the only reason she was even using enchanted weapons was because Tapio sponsored her directly with equipment and augments.

But that didn’t make any sense. She was making good money. Very good money. Class 6 Hunters and above could easily buy their way into any country in the world and were in desperate demand. And even if it was for a few seconds, she had the ability to stop time. She could become anybody with a Stigmata like that. Yet all she did with her entire life was take low profile jobs, occasionally pitching to larger scale raids, never fully basking in the light of the hunt.

The story didn’t add up. Where did all the money go? Nia had the authority to reveal Owl’s accounts, and she had very little money saved up and spent most of her money on anonymous transactions. Hell, even I had more cash in my new account, and Owl didn’t seem like the sort who participated in overseas investment.

In a world where money could easily buy a better life, she was spending it on somebody — or something else.

Therefore, I had a guess in mind:

“Do you have any family that you don’t want anybody to know about?”

The shift was instantaneous. Time itself froze: all the vulnerability and emotion instantly disappeared and her face warped into a cold mask.

Seems like I nailed the bullseye. In turn, she was going to nail me.

She raised her knife in the frozen time. I didn’t blame her. I don’t think I could’ve. If I spent my entire life sheltering another from the horrors of the world, I’d kill anybody who dared encroach that peace in an instant. And in a world where there were no true angels or devils, man could only achieve a pale imitation of the divine.

Owl’s hand shook. Then she bit her lip. “...Goddamnit.”

I don’t know why she hesitated to cut me down. But I watched her shake her head, then leap out the window.

Time resumed. I jumped up to the windowsill and spotted her racing towards a particular shimmering spot in an adjacent building; she froze time once more and grabbed at thin air, stabbed her knife into something, then threw whatever she grabbed to the ground.

A woman screamed. “Make another sound and you’ll die,” Owl said in a voice devoid of all emotion.

I caught up and looked at the catch. Underneath the now-disabled active camouflage was a woman with brassy skin and terrified, greenish eyes; against somebody with the ability to stop time, her technological shield, no matter how fine the craftsmanship, was utterly worthless. I almost felt bad for her, even.

“Hello. Sorry about this,” I said. “We want to ask a few questions. Can you work with us?”

Her hand reached towards some sort of trigger on the inside of her shield, yet was stopped by the sudden appearance of a serrated knife in her forearm. This would also work: muttering a small thank you, I hit the switch for her.

Between tiny pants of pain, the woman looked at us like we had completely lost our minds.

“Please bear with the pain until we get what we need,” I told her.

“You’re not getting anything from me,” she seethed through blood-flecked teeth.

“I know.” I turned to Owl. “Think you can keep her down for a little? Without killing her?”

She was already dragging the woman away. “Do you think I’m bloody incompetent?”

With that, the first part of my little plan was complete. For the next part, we’d have to hunker down and find a place to hide out until we could finish what we started.

About an hour later, our guest of honor arrived. She made her presence known by a rain of bloody spears that pierced through concrete and ice; the only reason we didn’t die instantly was because Owl used the woman’s shield to protect our little huddle.

“Here goes nothing,” I said to myself.

After the initial barrage, I pushed out of the impromptu shelter and descended to the ground floor. And there I met her once more.

Cassandra didn’t look all too thrilled to see me. That was fine, I wasn’t too happy to see her either. But she was the only one who could give me something I really wanted as the information officer of the Five Rings: a clear cut answer.

She greeted me with a solid wall of blood lances that were fully ready to turn me and everything I was into scrap. “I had a feeling it was you,” she said, in a voice somewhere between mockery and anger. “Some people don’t learn, I guess.”

I desired a real answer from somebody who was way ahead of what we already knew. The only problem now was that I had to wring it out of her.