Chapter Text
For Sam, of all the universes I have inhabited, yours was the most special.
The streets of Begara were busy and lively on this sunny morning, as they tended to be. Its citizens scurried about; everyone had a place to go, an errand to carry out, an event to attend.
I never grew tired of the sights, sounds, and scents of daily life in the heart of the city. The streets we patrolled may have seemed mundane for most people, but for me, having grown up so isolated in the noble quarter, they never failed to feel invigorating.
Some of the alleys were narrow and winding, and two people could barely walk side by side. There was an unexpected cosiness to be found between the tightly packed, timber-framed buildings, a welcomed shelter from the frenzy of the main streets. And those main streets were truly something to behold.
Out in the open, travelling merchants pulled their carts through without much consideration for whatever or whoever may lie in their path. Wheels rattled over the cobblestones and wood creaked wearily, the clanking of pickle jars, bottles of alcohol, and elixirs a symphony of order among chaos.
The peddlers’ voices contributed to a now familiar cacophony. They all called out their wares loudly, some haggled with customers, and a few argued with the shop owners trying to drive them away.
Amidst the shouts of the traders, you could hear the children playing. Little figures with faces covered in soot darted through the crowds, chasing each other, and sometimes pickpocketing the unwary. The high-pitched cackles and cries intermingled, sometimes morphing into each other. The soprano of joy balanced with the baritone of frustration. I wish it had reminded me of my childhood, but I grew up mostly alone, and I wondered for a second how it would have felt growing up around mischievous urchins like these. But I didn’t have the chance to dwell too much on it, as the sound of my favourite animals took the melancholy away.
At the heart of the bustling melody of everyday life were the sounds of the majestic flighthorses. You could feel the rhythmic percussion of hooves on the stone beneath you like a steady thrum, and their neighs reverberated through the very fabric of the city. Contrary to what their name suggested, flighthorses did not fly, but they had been bred for generations to run so fast that you’d think they could take to the skies. My favourite memories as a kid involved races with my dad through the Galgiza Forest, letting our flighthorses go as fast as they could, and turning around only once we reached the feet of the Earthfire Mountains. My mum always pretended she was disappointed and scolded us when we showed up back in the manor, dirty and scratched from the tree branches and utterly spent, but her smile always said differently. I was itching for an opportunity to get on a flighthorse again. But it was highly unlikely that I’d be able to leave Begara anytime soon.
Despite all there was to experience, my favourite thing to do while walking around was to close my eyes for a second, and tune out the noise. Only then you could feel the cool breeze coming from the mountains and the myriad of smells filling your lungs. Exotic spices from the merchants’ stalls, the honeyed aroma from the bakeries and the hearty whiff of tavern food made my stomach grumble. In the artisan quarter, the scent of wood shavings and hot metal mingled with the earthy smell of wet clay. As we approached the shops, it was the fragrance of expensive perfume and flower bouquets, the fresh dye coming off the clothes drying out, and the distinctive musk of leather getting tanned.
Every day, I encountered a unique smell I had never come across before. Every day, I witnessed something surprising. And, every day, I picked up a new sound, a new pitch, a new voice.
The city, arguably the most advanced in all Azaria, was always brimming with activity, innovation and progress.
I was happy to call it home.
And yet, I could not help feeling a bit disappointed that this place was all I had ever known my entire life. I longed to travel the continent, perhaps even the neighbouring nation of Bayaan, and I had hoped my new job would facilitate that. However, immediately after completing my training, I found myself back within familiar walls.
I would have believed quite serendipitous that my superiors had chosen to station me in Begara if I didn’t suspect that my mother had a hand in it. She had already been cross with me for joining the Talons, the elite enforcers of the Senate, instead of following her steps in politics. The fact that I got assigned to Begara right away reeked of my mother leveraging her connections to keep me close.
At least, becoming a Talon had been my decision. My choice. Regardless of what my mother envisioned for me, I liked my job, and I wouldn’t change it for anything. I could not think of a better use of my magic than protecting innocents and bringing dangerous criminals to justice.
My partner and I patrolled the streets, just like we had done every day for the past couple of weeks. A string of elixir thefts all over Begara had finally caught the attention of the Senate, and that’s why my fellow Talon, Zayne, and I had been dispatched. The Guardsmen of the city had been failing to make progress and the Senate was getting restless, fearing this would escalate and endanger our elixir supply, so a small number of Talons had been appointed to patrol around the city. As Magicians trained in battle, we’d be more equipped than the Guardsmen to subdue the perpetrators if they were mages themselves.
As a new Talon, barely a few weeks out of training, I was itching to prove myself. I was aware of the rumours going around about my joining. Some of my colleagues thought I was only there thanks to my family name. I wish I could say that was a rarity, but the fact that I was a Kiramman had been used as the excuse for any and all of the successes I had accomplished until now, even though I’d never dare using my family’s influence like that. Luckily, my partner had been seemingly impervious to the hearsay thus far. He had been doing this for a few years, and I was grateful to be partnered with someone more experienced. Zayne, always better at following orders than taking the initiative, had been appreciative of my natural proactiveness and tendency to lead, and so far hadn’t doubted my abilities. We made a good team.
We were about to enter one of the supply stores to do a routine checkup when I thought I heard something unusual.
It sounded like… a growl?
I stopped in my tracks, alert, trying to pinpoint where it had come from. Zayne directed a quizzical look towards me. He hadn’t heard anything. Suddenly, shouts alerted us from several streets away, and I sprung into action.
Taking full advantage of my long strides, I closed the distance. My partner was struggling to keep up, protesting under his breath. It was my first time responding to an active disturbance, and this case and my reputation were on the line. I didn’t want to miss a single thing.
I could see people looking around, confused, trying to pinpoint what had happened and where, and whether they were still in danger. Some folks were walking hurriedly away from the scene. A distressed merchant was sitting on the floor, shouting to get our attention and pointing towards a building.
It was a warehouse. Chances were that this was indeed the work of the elixir thieves.
There wasn’t a moment to lose.
The first thing I noticed was the big gap at the front, where the door should have been. Two mercenaries lay on the ground, once unconscious, one rubbing the back of her neck, back against the wall of the building.
“Are you okay? Do you need a healer?” I asked the woman, who was moaning in pain.
“I need a beer, and he probably needs a slap… and a beer,” She chuckled, pointing at the passed-out man next to her. “We’ll be okay. You go do your thing so you can explain this to our boss later.”
I checked the vitals of the other mercenary, and I was relieved when he started to groan. He seemed okay, so I made it to the entrance, which looked eerily quiet, and gave Zayne a chance to position himself on the other side of the frame. I nodded to him before entering the warehouse, my fingers already forming the shape of a Mekinetic rune, in case I had to restrain someone or deflect an incoming attack.
At a glance, it didn’t seem it’d be needed. The inside of the warehouse looked empty. We had been too late.
I clicked my tongue in disappointment, and Zayne noticed.
“Caitlyn?” He called out to me. I knew he was waiting for me to decide how to proceed.
“They’re gone. Check with the witnesses while I take a look. And Zayne.” He turned to me before kneeling down next to the stirring mercenary. “Don’t let anyone in.”
The door was but a disarray of broken planks that I had to carefully step over. I could see a big lock among the splintered pieces. It was big and sturdy, almost impossible to pick, but it seemed as if its robust design hadn’t taken into account the door and the doorframe being ripped apart. I took a piece of the former door. There was something caught between the splintered wood. I picked it up and rolled it between the pads of my fingers.
Fur.
I smelled it. Nothing of note. I put it in a small pouch I carried, for later study.
Stepping in, I scanned my surroundings carefully. This had been the most undisturbed scene we’ve had, with no Guardsmen tampering with the evidence, and in it may lay the answers to this series of crimes. I truly believed investigation was my forte, so this could be our chance to finally apprehend the people responsible.
It looked like the perpetrators had beelined for a backdoor about twenty steps away. Crouching, and almost levelling my tilted head against the floor, I could discern big prints on the light dust. Only they did not look like boots, they were paws. Big paws. One track coming in, one track coming back out. Only one perpetrator was involved.
The entryway at the back was another wreckage. Chains had secured it, but as it had happened with the front lock, a great force had torn the wooden planks and anything holding them together, and the chains just lay on the floor, useless. It would have worked against burglars, but this had been something else.
The patterns on the rubble indicated two things: it had been hit by a powerful blunt force, but also, and more tellingly, something sharp had cut into it. I shuffled the segments until I found two that matched. Lining them up I could see some incisions, but the timber was too mangled to identify which object had done this.
Entering that space, I saw piles of crates secured there. I recognised the marks designating whether a crate was meant for Magicians, Warlocks or Enchanters. These were indeed elixir crates.
The owner of this warehouse, probably alerted by the news of the other break-ins, had tried to hide the crates intended for the Magicians behind a stack for Warlocks, but the decoy pile had been unceremoniously swept aside to reveal the target. One elixir crate marked for Magicians had been lowered onto the floor, lid pried open. A dozen elixirs were missing, looking at the empty dips in the hay used to pack them.
This looked very intentional. I picked up the discarded lid, but the marks on it were again inconclusive.
Going back to the Warlock wooden crates that had been displaced, I saw some kind of claw scratches on the side of one of them, where it had been pushed. I counted the gouges. Five. Separate enough to suggest a big paw.
Some kind of big mammal had done this, most likely a bear, given the size and shape of the paws and claws.
A Warlock.
Warlocks could turn into an animal at will, mixing their blood with a token, a piece of metal that held significance for them. As with the use of any type of magic, be it Magician, Enchanter or Warlock magic, Warlocks were also at risk of developing Sorceror Sickness, a disease that made people lose their mind if they cast too much. The only way to keep the Sorceror Sickness at bay was the elixirs, but, if this was a Warlock’s doing, why would they target Magician elixirs?
Pondering still, I picked up a trail of hay leading right back to the door.
Direct point of entry, also used as the exit. Either the thief was in a hurry, or they didn’t care much about concealing their tracks. Could have been both. It fit the modus operandi that the Guardsmen had described.
I stepped outside, following the trail of hay straws and animal tracks, not even looking at Zayne. But he knew me by now, and let me follow my process.
The traces led me through a couple of streets until I turned a corner and found myself at a dead-end. I stared at the wall at the back. Looking at the ground again, I could see that the tracks ended there, and only human footprints could be seen leaving the alley. Nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. I stood with my hands on my hips, mulling over the possibilities. Exiting the alley from where I had entered it, it seemed that the Warlock, having returned to human form, had either made it outside the city to my left, or deeper into it, to my centre and right.
The scrape of tiles above me made me shoot my eyes up, and I barely caught a mat of pink hair disappearing from the roof. I cast a Mekinetic rune and the soles of my boots rumbled slightly. Manipulating the gravitational forces allowed me to run up the vertical wall as swiftly as I could. I dispelled the magic as I jumped onto the rooftop. Nothing there.
Just as I glanced all the way to the end, I glimpsed someone’s hands as they jumped off the other side. How were they this fast?
I sprinted, but stepping on the roof tiles without losing my footing was an ordeal. By the time I got to the edge, the ocean of people below me made it very hard to distinguish anything. Hats and hoods were peppered everywhere, and too many people seemed to be in a hurry. No sight of the bright pink from before. I focused, and just as I was about to give up, I saw a hooded stranger in the distance direct one quick look at me and disappear inside a sewer opening, a wisp of that distinctive hair escaping the hood as they dropped down.
The sewers would be the perfect place for an ambush. I could not risk putting myself in that vulnerable position. But I had an advantage, the person leaving in a rush did not have the elixirs with them. Meaning they had stored them somewhere nearby and would need to come back.
Retracing my steps, and using another Mekinetic rune and a gravity spell, I landed back on the alley.
Looking around, I noticed an old woman doing her laundry and hanging the clothes out to dry on a line, near the alley entry.
“Excuse me, madam,” I said, approaching her.
The woman stiffened when she recognised my Talon attire. The black longcoats with golden trims were very distinctive, and it wasn’t the first time someone had reacted with wariness towards me while in uniform.
“Yes? Anything I can help you with?” She managed to utter, fear lacing her guarded words.
“I was wondering if you had seen anyone entering the alley with a backpack or a sack of some sorts in the last fifteen minutes?” I chose to leave the part about the bear out for now and see how she would react.
She looked around, eyes darting cautiously.
“You have to forgive me, my dear. My eyes are not what they used to be.”
The woman didn’t want to talk. I wasn’t sure if it was out of fear of repercussions from us or from other parties, so I felt that I had to respect that, given my limited knowledge. I made a mental note of it and returned to Zayne, who, upon seeing me approach, got up from the floor. Both mercenaries were now fully awake, sitting next to each other against the building, and once Zayne dismissed them, they exchanged some muted words.
“They say they spotted a big, brown bear barging into the warehouse, but it knocked them out cold. Can’t recall seeing anyone else. It went down very quickly,” Zayne explained while I took notes. “What do you think… Warlock?”
“Warlock,” I confirmed, nodding. “I found claw marks and paw prints matching the bear description. The trail led me to a back alley but it got cold. I found a possible witness, but she was uncooperative, unfortunately.”
“Want me to go with you and loosen her tongue?” Zayne offered, casually, but the implication sent a chill down my spine.
My partner was a Kymamorphic magician, which allowed him to manipulate pressure waves through air and water, and not only was he able to put people to sleep with just his voice, but I knew Kymamorphic spells could hypnotise people to do their will as well, and I didn’t want to resort to that.
“That shouldn’t be necessary, Zayne. I may have spotted one of our thieves, they left in quite a hurry through the sewers but they did not have the elixirs with them,” I explained, hoping to hide my reticence to use his magic to manipulate the old woman. “I think our best bet is to come after nightfall, hide, and try to catch them red-handed. Let’s take another look at the warehouse together and see if I missed anything.” Zayne hummed in agreement, and I beckoned him to follow me back into the building.
I would make sure no stone was left unturned, but I wasn’t willing to mistreat an innocent bystander in the process.
Later that day, I was hoping to get the answers I desperately sought, and finally put this case to rest. And the perpetrators behind bars.