CHAPTER 36: Times Goes by

  For the next three days, Orsel trained to become a thief— to become Hope’s hand, long deprived of direct intervention upon the world. He exercised his formative abilities, displaying improved endurance and flexibility to the point where, after exercising, the stress upon his core proved to be minimal… or lesser than average, at least, no longer passing out whenever he was stretched out or made to run a lap around the walled city. Hope kept a stern eye on his progress, making sure his “one more lap” or “a few more stretches” didn’t turn into another exhaustive retreat into his core. Orsel was also becoming well-versed in basic combat, knowing when to dodge, block, and swing at an opponent during opportune times. Hope was still a bit rusty on Shaydon’s martial arts techniques, so the training didn’t seem like it would reach an advanced mark anytime soon, but other than some sloppy footwork and overextension at some points, Orsel seemed as though he had some potential in becoming a fighter. Despite the library of scavenged weapons up for grabs, he never strayed away from his trusty crookshank, making sure to visit Vino for a sharpening or reforging when training got a little too fiery. One aspect Orsel seemed to pick up on quite naturally was when it came to stealth and espionage. Being a creature of pure darkness, Orsel found staying out of sight and taking opportunities to hide to be almost second nature. His background in construction also seemed to help, as his past experiences in having to traverse rickety, pre-built structures proved to help him in finding what surfaces and ledges were alright to support his minimal weight. Snaking across suspended ropes and scaling walls with the grace of an acrobat. He wasn’t perfect, still managing to almost fall off a roof or two despite his proficiency, but it was painfully clear that this was where his talents lied.

As for Vino and Jacob, they were finding other ways to occupy their time. It would still be a while until they left the city to go back to their lives, building up their strength and collecting resources for the long, long journey ahead of them. Hope was respectful of their choice to not aid her in her endeavor, was markedly impressed with how well they had been taking care of the place, and had no quarrel with them remaining in the city. (Secretly, she also missed having a community of people to watch over). Vino spent most of his time in the workshop, cleaning it up and returning it to its former functions, as well as tinkering with his invention. It had shrunk down somewhat, explained as an “aerodynamic change”, although part of the reason for that change came from him not wanting to haul the weight around anymore. What once was a metallic brick accompanied by a handle looked more and more like a modernistic crossbow, although some aspects of it required ironing out, as anything it fired had a tendency to veer violently off course (With one instance actually launching the bolt backwards!) He had healed from the violence the raiding party of Shayd had brought onto him, and was supping on the bounteous sunlight and fountain water that came with the territory for sustenance. The menagerie of plants within the palace’s archives proved to be a lovely source of dirt for Vino to sink his roots into, gaining some much-needed nitrogen and minerals to refresh his state of being.

Jacob took it upon himself to act as an informal guard for the walled city, patrolling it in order to make sure no more shayd were hunting them down. Thankfully, no more of the soldiers seemed to be coming, but as his father, Isaac Dirtclump, always said, “Seeming’s never a sure thing.” He also cleared out most of the larger rubble and misladen junk from the streets, keeping up his own strength independent of Hope’s regiment with Orsel. Although he wanted nothing to do with the Keystone, Jacob was still happy to help Orsel out with building up resistance to light. It would always be painful, but during their last session, Orsel managed to last ten whole seconds in the sun with his torso exposed, which was still somewhat underwhelming, but it was still leagues above what an average shayd was capable of. All in all, Life was slow, and it was a much appreciated change of pace from being stuck in a dingy cell or a 9-4 workday.

One fine morning, after a warm-up lap around the city, Orsel found himself at the doorstep of Vino’s workshop, this time in a much less exhaustive state than last time.

“Good morning, Orsel!” Vino greeted, lifting his goggles up onto his forehead. “Need another tune-up on your crookshank?” 

“Not today, no.” Orsel waved. “Just stopping by to say hello. You’ve been putting a lot of work into this, uh, workshop, huh?”

“Well, There’s still the odd shard of glass lying around, but yes, I am pretty proud of how this place has turned out.” Vino affirmed. “You know, once this whole Shaydon thing blows over, I think I might just stay here. Plenty of sun, steady supply of water, lots of real estate potential…”

“Well, it is rather peaceful.” Orsel contemplated.

“Maybe too peaceful. Why do you think we haven’t seen anymore shayd come this way?” He realized. “You’d think we would’ve been blown wide open after that first group.”

“Maybe Jake’s been taking care of them.” Vino shrugged. “He’s been awfully insistent about looking after this place— playing guard and whatnot.”

“Even so, you think he would have let us know if there were some intruders by now.”

“Probably doesn’t want to worry us with the… uh… gory details.”

Vino’s petals caught a faint mumbling from outside his workshop, getting closer by the moment.

“What’s that sound?” He asked Orsel, checking around his workshop for anything that might serve as a source— but his furnace wasn’t lit yet, and his trinkets and crossbow were currently immobile. Orsel peered his head out of the doorway to find the source of the noise, frantically pacing around,

“Ah, it’s just Hope. She’s probably looking for me, so I can start my training. I’ll see you later!” Orsel bode farewell as he stepped outside.

“Try not to hurt yourself.” Vino lazily replied, returning to his workbench.

Orsel trotted up to Hope, finding that she was currently in a state of distress, mumbling incomprehensibly.

“Ohhthisisn’tgoodthisisn’tgoodIgottadosomethingbutthere’snotimeweneedtoputthisdamnthingbacktogetherohhwhydidiwaitsolongthisshouldn’tbehappeningthisshould-”

“Uh, Hope?” Orsel interrupted. “Is— is everything okay?” The grandess snapped her gaze towards Orsel, turning silent as her three piercing white eyes met his own. A few seconds later, that silence was broken with four words. 

“We need to talk.”

Back in the workshop, Vino had taken a wrench to his crossbow, trying with all the hope within his chlorophyll-and-mycelium-ridden heart to make it perform its one primary function— to get it to fire in a straight line. Apparently, however, one quick turn of the spanner was all it took for it to perform its intended task— although the resulting direction was unfortunately vertical rather than horizontal.

“Oh, come on!” Vino griped as he watched the bolt arc and fall, clattering onto the workbench, he grasped it with his leafy hand and plopped his head onto the table in misery— his wallowing cut short when he heard a familiar sound from outside his window.

As he got closer, he recognized the voice as Hope’s and… Orsel’s? He peeked over the sill to get the full picture. As he suspected, the two were conversing in a somewhat panicked manner.

“Are you absolutely sure? They can’t be anything else?” Orsel asked, pacing around.

“I saw it, plain as day.” Hope said, hunching over. “They sent out around a dozen raiding parties, all over Crux, this morning alone. I was right! They’re doing something big, and they’re doing it now.” I haven’t gotten a chance to use the daylooker in so long, who knows how many they’ve already sent by now.”

“So what does that mean for us?” Orsel asked, “Is there anything we can do?

“I’m afraid not.” Hope said. “Sure enough, this is going to tip off everyone on Crux, and security’s going to tighten up everywhere. I’m not sure if we’ll even be able to pull off the plan with the Keystone at this point.”

Orsel turned his eyes downwards in thought, tapping his crookshank against the sandy ground.

“We’ll figure something out. We have to! I’ll train even harder if I need to, if time’s that important…”

“I’ll take care of it. Just… take another lap, or something. I have a lot of new angles to consider.” Hope sighed, brushing back her hair.

Orsel slunk away, looking back at Hope as she seemed lost in thought again. Vino heard the pitter-patter of his tendrils encircle the building back towards the front, then lower in volume as he scuttled away.

“UGH!” Hope groaned, her stance almost going limp with anger. “I was SO CLOSE! I can’t believe I waited this long.” She picked up a nearby stone. “The one, damn shot I get to make this work, and now not only am I understaffed, I’m on a deadline.” She threw the stone at the wall of Vino’s workshop at the last word, the chunk of earth-shattering on impact against the flat surface. He ducked a little further below the window at the sound of the impact. “Urgh, I can’t do this alone… And neither can he. Maybe I should call this whole thing off? No, no, no, I’ve come so far, and I can’t…” She gripped the sides of her head, pacing around. “You’d think the other two would’ve…” Hope took a deep breath, placing her palms outward and closing her eyes. “No, respect their decisions. You’re not their Grandess, remember that— They’re having a hard time, too.” A flash of yellow pulsed through her body, a mark of inspiration that only came when a luman mind came up with a bright idea. “But maybe something can be done…” She blipped away, surprising Vino, who sat down with his back against the wall, dragging as he slid against it. He took his goggles off and wiped his brow in stress— this was a revelation, to say the least.

Vino, with his newfound knowledge of Hope’s desperation and the ensuing news of the status of the world, walked over to sit at his workbench, but could not bring himself to work— too many factors were buzzing around his pollen-riddled head. If Shaydon was really making a larger-than-life move right now, Orsel would have a difficult time in his coming job, and Hope will find herself more stressed than ever. He made his decision not to be involved with the Keystone clear back at the temple, but his decision, much like Jacob’s, prioritized personal safety and sanctity. This job would involve the theft of some of the most sacred and revered objects in Crux’s history. By all logical means, they meant nothing to an organic being like him, but a great deal of the world’s population held them in high regard, and they’d no doubt have an axe to grind against anyone who would mean harm to their precious shards.

Still, it seemed as though safety was a concept that seemed fleeting by the hour, no matter what choice Vino would end up making. Although joining the ranks of Hope’s grand mission meant charging headfirst into uncertainty and danger, it was at the very least a seemingly noble cause, and one he would be doing alongside trustworthy people. It was certainly a predicament, with an uncomfortable amount of morality involved for someone of Vino’s thought processes. He buried his face in his hands for a moment in frustration, then returned to work on his crossbow. A distraction was needed for the time being.

CHAPTER 37: An Old Friend

The seats of the council of The Seven sat empty, as the days in Shaydon required governance from all of its members working at their fullest capacity. One individual, however, stayed behind in the ornate building at all times, The Grand of Shaydon, Thead Cronec. Harbinger, Warmonger, Founder of The Seven, Son of Xetas, Heir to the Dozen, Conqueror of the Nomad Tribes, the Arthenian Grandom, and The Forty.

Janitor. 

He clutched his scythe in one hand, while holding a dust mop in another. While cleaning was certainly a lowly task, Thead considered it essential to maintain cleanliness within an important chamber such as this, and since none were allowed within its halls unless they were a member of The Seven or specifically ordered to be on trial, it left him to clean the room and surrounding hallways on his own as he had the most free time. At some times, he felt more like a prisoner than a Grand, wandering these onyx hallways alone, but he admitted that dusting and sweeping were therapeutic, especially considering the company he kept.

“It’s all happening all over again. The arrogance, the company he keeps, the prose. He’s worse than I ever was, I tell you.”

He glanced over at his scythe, still clenched within his unending grasp.

“Oh, please. If you had half a mind, you’d be riding his coattails instead of mine.” He said, leaning against the dust mop’s handle.

“Yeah, well what have you ever done for me, hmm? I built ALL of this before you snaked your way into my life. Even with the Incursion under my belt, it was still MY hand that led us to glory.” He pointed fervently at the scythe, the rod of his cleaning implement falling to the ground.

“Hmph, I know your tricks, trying to fire me up again. My time is done, and I’ve made that clear as crystal to you. I am going to spend the rest of my reign in peace. I’d give anything for you to learn something for once in your miserable life and leave me be.” He knelt down to pick his mop back up.

“Except that.” Thead sighed, continuing to push and clean. “Look, what you’re proposing is foolishness, plain and simple. Edrip may be an imbecile, but he’s still the smartest one here. He’ll fall off this fad soon enough. He’s got an… attention span problem, anyway.”

“Yes, he does have a… concerning amount of notes, but a few knickknacks from my glory days doesn’t mean squat. I just hope he doesn’t do too much damage before he falls out of this.”

“You know, nobody’s even around right now. If you’re going to keep talking to me, you might as well show yourself.” 

There was a long silence as Thead stared angrily at his scythe. He then decided enough was enough and kept pushing his mop.

“Forget it- I’m not giving you the satisfaction anymore. I have to wax this place anyway.”