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The first thing Degenbrecher learned about Enciodes Silverash was that he was wealthy. She was essentially informed as much by the faceless Armorless Union goons when they ceased trying to murder her and told her she’d been bought by a foreign businessman, and she needed to come with them willingly or by force. Degenbrecher didn’t believe that until they let her listen to the voice on the other end of their headsets telling her as much, and she didn’t like it much, either.

But even if she had apparently just been sold like a piece of cystybeast, it was possibly a way out of this situation, which was rapidly growing out of hand. Even her endurance wasn’t limitless, and she was one person against a seemingly endless horde; for every goon she cut down, there was apparently another to take their place. They were determined to put her out of commission, and sooner or later, she wouldn’t be able to fight them anymore. If she had to put up with a little annoyance just to get out of Kazimierz, that would be worth it.

So it was grudgingly that she followed the goons back into the glitzy lights of the city, and grudgingly accepted being shoved into a fancy hotel room the likes of which she’d slept in before, and formally met the rich oddball with the weird name who’d apparently decided to bribe the Chamber of Commerce to let her go into his company.

He was, obviously by his manner, a noble. It was in his dress; his bearing; his speech. While she didn’t believe that was immediate reason to write him off, prior experience with members of that class made her wary. His extreme politeness could be merely a facade to conceal something much uglier. Maybe the people from whatever country he was from were adept at Arts just like in Leithanien.

The second thing she learned about him was that he was something of an eccentric.

Degenbrecher’s first thoughts about being bought was that it was to serve some sort of sexual or fetishistic desire, in which case she’d fold her new ‘master’s’ spine into a pretzel as soon as she was out of Kazimierz. After all, what other reason would somebody like this have for buying her, and for what other reason would the Chamber agree to let her go, unless they were absolutely sure she wouldn’t be trouble for them?

But no, he really did desire merely a bodyguard, despite the fact that he was clearly capable of defending himself. Beneath the tailored fit of his jacket and shirt, her experienced eye could clearly distinguish the shadows of wiry muscles lining his arms and his shoulders. Either he was involved in some shady business, or he was just a paranoid weirdo from some place she’d never heard of. As she evaluated him, she tentatively settled on the latter: he seemed a bit too genuine to be running a crime ring, though she wasn’t going to let her guard down just yet. Nobody who was running a crime ring was going to let on to the ordinary person that they were.

The third thing she learned was that he was ambitious.

On their flight back to his home country, he laid out for her the basics of his company and what he did, and gave her an apparently necessary rundown of the politics; something about three clans and divided territory and areas she shouldn’t set foot in if she wanted to avoid trouble. She wasn’t sure that really mattered when she was going to be guarding him, but she absorbed the information nonetheless. Okay, made sense: a lot of people had a vested interest in seeing him gone, so he needed a bodyguard; an interest in seeing him gone because apparently his company was getting a bit too successful. Envy, probably. She could understand that.

That was all she thought it was about until they landed and took a long train ride into the mountains and disembarked.

Kjerag was an absolute backwater.

She felt like she’d gone back in time a hundred years and then some. They barely had electric lights, much less anything of the sort she’d grown accustomed to in Kazimierz. Her first thought was that it was intentional, like those rustic hostels out in the countryside that kept everything all old-fashioned looking for wealthy people who wanted to just get away from the hustle and bustle of the city for a week, but the more she saw, the less she believed that was the case. Everything was too… genuine. People really were hustling and bustling about in the snow tending to their laborious tasks and pottering about with oil lamps, carrying wood or returning home with the day’s hunt, bundled in thick furs and leathers, huddling into their simple cottages adorned with clearly hand-carved decorations. It was all quite beautiful, but quite primitive, and all the more jarring coming from Kazimierz, overdeveloped and overcrowded as it was.

Degenbrecher kept waiting for the other penny to drop, for there to be some moment where it was revealed that all of this was simply some elaborate display put on for tourists or something—but that moment never came. It was all completely real. They really, truly did live like the poorest hovels in Leithanien, except this appeared to be the entire country, which was so pathetically small it might as well have been a single Graf’s fiefdom. They didn’t even have more than one city, for Empresses’ sake! If Turicum could even be called a city!

The Silverash manor, at least, was relatively modern, though even that was only about the level of what she knew of Victoria; nothing particularly high-tech. Electric lights; running water; a proper refrigerator and stove in the kitchen; some simple appliances and a few old-fashioned computers with the logo of Enciodes’ company on them. Degenbrecher took it all in with a neutral expression on her face, doing her best not to let on just how mystified she felt by the whole thing as she was shown about.

When they were finally alone in Enciodes’ study at the end of the day, she couldn’t refrain from asking the question burning on the tip of her tongue, just to confirm her impressions. “Hey,” she said quietly. “You really live like this?”

“Why, Degenbrecher,” Enciodes smiled from the window as he tugged the curtains closed, “do you not find it inestimably charming, brimming with bucolic spirit?” He gestured at the snowy gardens beyond, in the process turning his back to her somewhat. “Is it not unlike any place you’ve ever seen? Does the rustic simplicity not captivate you?”

“Sure,” Degenbrecher said, careful not to sound overly sardonic. “Definitely never seen anything like it. I understand now why I’d never heard of it.”

The smile disappeared from his face, leaving it expressionless as his gray eyes gazed out at the landscape beyond. She stared hard at him, but there was nothing to be seen in the sliver of his profile she could make out, and the only sound was the flick of his tail, back and forth. She watched it for a moment, observing the sharp movements.

The status quo: he didn’t like it.

The pieces came together. His fluent Victorian; his presence in Kazimierz; the technology in the manor, at once so behind from the rest of the world but things the rest of this place called Kjerag did not have; the tense internal politics and his position and her own presence. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out: if Degenbrecher herself was shocked setting foot here, then what about the reverse?

“Not to say that I don’t like it, though,” she said. “I like quiet. Nice change of pace after Kazimierz, good place to retire. Just going through a bit of whiplash here; I’m so used to hearing all that noise all the time.”

“I’m afraid it’s a bit early for you to retire just yet,” said Enciodes, turning away from the window. The cordial mask he’d worn throughout the entire day had been replaced upon his face, the crack of emotion he’d displayed concealed once more. “I hope you won’t mind a bit of excitement.”

Degenbrecher shook her head. “Nah. Keep me from getting bored.”

As she perched on her new bed at the end of the day in a night that was definitely far deeper and blacker than that of Kazimierz, Degenbrecher mused that life was a funny thing. One day, she was a champion; another day, a fugitive; another day, a bodyguard. One day, in the spotlights; another, in the shadows; another, in quietude.

Well, you just had to make the best of it.

--

Degenbrecher did make the best of it. All things considered, it was far from bad. Kjerag was quiet, which was soothing after the noise and bustle of Kazimierz. She got to know the staff of the house, and spent most of her days following Enciodes or carrying out his occasional order, which usually entailed supervising some business which had the potential of being disrupted by his enemies.

The natives learned very quickly, the first time they saw her break an axe with her blade and suppress the whole incident with her usual speed, that she wasn’t someone to be trifled with. Her very presence discouraged any nonsense, which was probably what Enciodes wanted, not that she let her guard down. Her reputation spread like wildfire, and troublemakers steered clear of her. She wasn’t unhappy with that. It wasn’t like Enciodes had made her one of his underlings, after all; she had no obligation to put on a diplomatic face to deal with people if she didn’t want to. She was polite enough to his other subordinates and the regular folks, because it never paid to be rude to them and she harbored them no malice; but she kept a standoffish distance and that was how she liked things.

And due to the nature of her job, she also got to know him better, too.

Enciodes Silverash was a curious man.

He was unfailingly polite and courteous; quite talkative when the mood struck him yet rarely spoke of himself; friendly, even, yet still extremely aware of the strict professional boundaries that existed between them. He did not ask Degenbrecher personal questions about herself or her background, and he never, ever touched her beyond the occasional accidental brush of the shoulder through a doorway or in a car. He made it clear that if there was anything she needed or wanted, she only had to ask for it, and he seemed to carry an air of benevolence, if lofty and distant, about him that she couldn’t quite tell whether was feigned or not. He seemed to genuinely care about his people, because aside from running his company, he was also responsible for the entirety of his not-inconsiderable territory, and well, if he didn’t care, why would he be here in the first place?

Yet at the same time, she noticed that Enciodes was an extremely shrewd and perspicacious man, adept at manipulating his opponents seemingly effortlessly into the position most beneficial to him. His cloaking of the noble trappings of honor and respect and all that nonsense was a smokescreen concealing the fact that he could be absolutely ruthless—and in this, he garnered some of her respect. She’d wondered before how someone from the utter backwoods of Kjerag could obtain and maintain not just footing among the thousands of companies in Victoria and Columbia, but power and wealth, but it was clear through observation that not only did he know his way around the world of business very well, he was an expert at it. More than that, even: he seemed to be most in his element when he was negotiating a difficult deal. She could tell by the way his tail tip started to twitch back and forth, by the intent expression of complete focus on his face, by the cold glimmer in his eye.

He was a person with whom it was better to be on his side than against him, she supposed, and she was glad to be on it, though ordinarily, their paths would have never crossed. She couldn’t help but wonder just why he had chosen her. Was it because she had the three victories of the Major beneath her belt to prove her strength? Was it because he felt pity for her dire situation? Was it because he saw a vulnerability he could exploit and then have her in his debt forever? No, if that was the case, he wouldn’t be treating her like this. Was it because he just felt like doing some philanthropy? She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t really think there was much point in asking. He had his reasons. The important thing was that it was all working out well, and she had no complaints for the time being, and if things went south, she was fairly sure she could brute force her way out of it.

She just had to focus on doing her job.

--

One day, she walked into the study and there was a dark-haired Liberi in front of the desk, hunched over some blueprint together with Enciodes. He was the first Liberi she’d seen in Kjerag, actually, dressed in neat slacks and a sweater, a pencil in his hand and making some sort of series of note on the paper.

Enciodes looked up at her entry, and said, “Ah, I’ve been expecting you; perfect timing. This is my dear friend and co-founder Gnosis Edelweiss. Gnosis, this is Degenbrecher.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” Gnosis said blandly in perfect Victorian, more focused on whatever they were working on to spare her more than a glance and a nod.

She glanced back and forth between them once, taking in just how close their heads were over the desk; Enciodes’ ears were actually brushing the Liberi’s hair. Were they screwing? They looked like it, though the Edelweiss guy also seemed a bit too uptight for it. Ah well. If they were, then she wouldn’t have to worry about having to break Enciodes’ arm; this gig was too nice to blow over a handsy boss. But despite her initial doubts of him in Kazimierz, he’d proven himself not to be the lecherous kind.

“Edelweiss, eh?” she commented, speaking it in her native way rather than the softer Victorian pronunciation. “Unusual name.”

Gnosis’ eyes flicked up at that, giving her his proper attention now. Cool, golden eyes; bright, and a bit disdainful. “I could say the same about yours,” he replied.

“Didn’t you tell me once where the name came from?” Enciodes said. “Something about your ancestors bringing the flower from the heavens…”

“Just pointless old legends, Enciodes.” Gnosis pushed his glasses up his nose. “Not worth wasting our time recounting. This is mildly urgent.”

All business. Degenbrecher liked that. He didn’t mince words. Enciodes had the tendency to go on sometimes, though he usually realized he’d started to ramble of his own accord and apologized.

She loitered in the office waiting for them to finish to obtain her next orders, listening and watching, and aware that they were aware of her listening and watching. After a bit, Gnosis departed with his papers, and without so much as a parting word.

“Interesting fellow,” she commented.

“Interesting is a word for him,” Enciodes said.

She didn’t think much of it at the time, as given that she’d been in Kjerag for a few weeks already and this was her first time meeting Gnosis, she didn’t think she’d be seeing him much.

As it turned out, though, that impression was incorrect.

Gnosis not only came and went from Enciodes’ study with impunity at the most random of times whenever he wanted something, but not infrequently, he would stay late at the manor, sitting with Enciodes by the fire nursing a cup of milk or tea as they discussed some affair which needed attention, a report, or just planning the next day. About half the time, Enciodes told her to stay, as he would have instructions for her, and when she got up in the morning, Gnosis would be leaving to hole up in his lab, and then she wouldn’t see hide nor hair of him for a subsequent week.

Still other times, while she and Enciodes were traveling, she would leave him only for Gnosis to arrive, leather case of documents in one hand; or other times, he would travel with them, but part ways upon arrival and rejoin in the evening.

Enciodes had called him ‘co-founder.’ So… partner, basically. Someone to hold down the fort while he was away, and from what she saw, Gnosis was the practical one of the two: Enciodes had the ideas and the goals, and Gnosis executed them. A practical person herself, Degenbrecher found him to be a refreshing curiosity, if only because he contrasted so sharply with her boss. Where Enciodes was all impeccable manners and genteel bearing and perfect tact, Gnosis was sharp-tongued and blunt, open and vocal with his displeasure and desires and hated wasting time. They couldn’t appear to be more different at first glance. Yet, by Enciodes’ own admission, despite Gnosis’ unhesitating tendency to criticize him, they were good friends.

Interesting. She might like to have a chat sometime with the seemingly perpetually grumpy Liberi—if he would ever be amenable to one.

--

It turned out that Degrenbrecher’s other initial impression, however, was correct.

One night, they were at a hotel in Columbia as usual, and Gnosis had joined them temporarily to sort out some matter or another. Whenever he did, they always tended to stay up talking, so once she’d confirmed Enciodes didn’t need her anymore, she bid them goodnight and retired to her own room, as she always got up before Enciodes did.

She was halfway through her nightly routine when she realized she had a question. It wasn’t extremely important, but better to get it out of the way now. It’d been only a matter of minutes since she’d left him, she wouldn’t be walking in on him naked or anything; she’d done it before and usually he was just reading something on his terminal, and Gnosis was still there anyway.

She got up and rapped once before opening the door, not waiting for a response—and paused in the doorway at the sight before her.

They were kissing on the sofa, Gnosis’ fingers buried in Enciodes’ hair and Enciodes pinning him beneath his weight, legs twined and Enciodes’ hands under his sweater and clearly feeling his chest up.

Huh, so they were screwing.

They both looked up at her entry, visibly disentangling their tongues from each other’s mouth.

“Ah,” said Enciodes, utterly unruffled. “Is something the matter?”

Gnosis looked like he wanted to be literally anywhere else. It was kind of funny. He stared up at the ceiling, and she could practically see his eyes going dead as Enciodes made no move to get off him or take his hands out from under his sweater.

“No, just realized I didn’t ask you what time we’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Ah, of course. I apologize for neglecting to tell you—we leave at eight-thirty sharp.”

“Thanks. Good night.” She pulled the door shut again, and hoped they wouldn’t be too noisy, but then again, this wasn’t the first time this had happened, and she hadn’t heard anything before. And to think she’d never noticed that whenever Gnosis joined them in a hotel, he never seemed to have his own room, but then she’d usually never stuck around long enough to see where he slept when he came over.

Enciodes acted no different come morning—that was normal; there was little that could faze him. And to Gnosis’ credit, he met Degenbrecher’s eyes as if nothing whatsoever had happened, either, though from beneath the collar of his sweater, the red edges of what was clearly a hickey peeped out. Several of them, in fact. That explained why Enciodes looked especially like the cat that got the cream—or bird, rather. In hindsight, the whole thing was pretty obvious considering they had always been thick as thieves.

(And to their credit, she only heard them once, that one time with the apricot schnapps when Gnosis had rather quickly gotten rather drunk, and through the wall she’d heard a muffled high-pitched cry something along the lines of Enciodes—please, no more, I can’t before it was cut off by a broken keen.)

The only thing that changed was that after that incident, Enciodes stopped being quite as discreet as before. Not that she cared; she didn’t care in the first place that her boss was screwing his partner—her other boss?—beyond the fact that his having an apparent long-term relationship, especially one of the same sex, meant that she didn’t have to worry about his perving on her.

Now that the cat was out of the bag, they walked arm in arm around her going to dinner; held hands; occasionally kissed in front of her when they were unwinding at the end of the day, though it was almost always Enciodes initiating. She threw out a joke now and then just to try to make Gnosis less tense, but mostly received a roll of the eyes and a snarky comment in reply, which was typical of him. Still, she figured that if it really bothered him, he would’ve told her so in his usual cutting fashion.

She noticed, though, that they did none of this at home, only on the road. Once in a while, late at night at the manor, Enciodes would put his arm around Gnosis and snuggle the Liberi against his side, and sometimes, she’d catch blotchy marks on his neck, too, but nothing more. It was a far cry from the way they were practically devouring each other with their eyes when they shared a hotel room.

It wasn’t difficult to figure out why. Nobody had a kind word to say about Gnosis in Kjerag, and sometimes they didn’t even wait for him to be out of earshot before they started badmouthing him even if all he’d done was walk by. It was probably the reason why he spent most of his time holed up in his laboratory, and why Enciodes occasionally sent her to escort him someplace if Enciodes didn’t have need of her at the moment.

Still, even if she’d figured that much out, she was curious as to the reason behind all of it. Ultimately, not something that mattered much in the big picture, but by now, her relationship with them had already broached the edges of friendly and left the realm of the purely professional. She contemplated which of them to ask, but it wasn’t any contest: Enciodes was infinitely more approachable and friendly compared to his partner.

“Hey, boss,” she asked over drinks in the latest of the innumerable swanky hotel lounges they were currently sitting around him. “Question.”

Enciodes raised an eyebrow, faintly amused. “You only call me that when there’s something you want. Is it about the bonus for last week? I haven’t forgotten. It’ll be in your paycheck at the end of the week.”

“Nah.” True to his word, Enciodes paid well and like clockwork. “Why does everyone badmouth your boyfriend? He’s got a mean tongue on him but there’s gotta be more to it. What did he do, publicly break one of your religious rules or something?”

Enciodes sobered at that, though it was such a small shift in his expression that Degenbrecher doubted she would have noticed it a few months ago. But in the blink of an eye, it was gone, and for the second time, he raised his eyebrows. “Haven’t you heard the rumors? Even now they’re the talk of the town eleven years later.”

“Your primitive folk don’t tend to talk to me much, and there’s only so much of your language I understand.” She was doing her best to learn it, and he was actually teaching her bits and pieces, but she wasn’t at that level yet, especially with the often thick pronunciation of some of the locals.

He spun the glass in his hand on its coaster; once, twice. The color of the sloshing liquid within wasn’t unlike Gnosis’ irises, bright and icy behind a layer of glass. “Gnosis and his family were blamed for the deaths of my parents.”

He said it quite calmly, quite matter-of-factly, as if it wasn’t something of any particular consequence. But Degenbrecher knew him well enough by now to see by the stormy color of his eyes that this fact bothered him, immensely.

“Ah. That explains it.”

It explained everything, in fact. Gnosis’ callous attitude and perpetually cold demeanor, and their secret relationship. The way, occasionally, she saw a sliver of vicious anger peeping out from beneath his icy facade, the kind of bitter and poisonous resentment seeping into his dismissive words that only formed after years of fermenting, buried deep.

Spite. Something to prove, after long years of suffering.

Against the smooth surface of her glass, Degenbrecher felt the beading condensation softening the calluses on her fingers. Memories of her own painful childhood flickered briefly through her mind, and as she watched Enciodes nonchalantly take a sip of his drink, ice cubes rattling, she mused that fate was really a funny thing, wasn’t it—to think that in Kazimierz of all places, she would cross and join paths with these two people from such radically backgrounds who were nonetheless not so different from herself. Clawing themselves up towards their lofty goal, heedless of the blood spilled be it their own or of others; fighting tooth and nail to rise above and seize what they wanted; shaking off the shadows and holding their heads high despite the persistence of the darkness until it could be crushed underfoot.

Interesting way they’d decided to go about it, though, reforming their country. It wasn’t purely for personal pride, that much she knew by now—they did genuinely believe in what they were doing, and they were right about it—but the more she observed, the more she saw that it was more personal than first glance would indicate.

“I’m sure I don’t need to say this, but please don’t mention it. It’s a touchy subject.” Enciodes toyed with the beads in his hair. “Gnosis is… more sensitive than he appears. And his exquisite memory means he holds grudges for a long time.”

Degenbrecher snorted. “I have no intention of doing that. Besides, I think I’d already know if I was in his bad books.”

A few of the faint lines in Enciodes’ forehead eased. It was painfully obvious by now that Enciodes utterly adored him. She wasn’t really sure why, but she didn’t really care, either, and it wasn’t her place to judge. They’d obviously known each other and been together for a long time already.

…Seeing Enciodes sigh like a lovesick girl was amusing, though. She would’ve never thought that someone like him could be so adorably, pathetically head over heels in his own way. She wondered if Gnosis knew that Enciodes kept one of his feathers inside the gladstone bag where he carried his personal effects; probably did.

She’d been around them enough to know by now, though, that it was mutual. Once, on a long train ride, Enciodes had nodded off within minutes of it lurching into motion and minutes of Gnosis joining them and taking his seat beside his partner.

Enciodes had been up almost the entire night previous on the phone: he’d been on it for an hour already when she’d gone to bed, and she’d heard him finally hanging up as she’d awoken two hours before they had to leave. She’d let him sleep for an hour before regrettably shaking him awake for breakfast, and he looked like it was only the coffee keeping his eyelids open on the ride to the station.

And that was, she realized as she watched him sink into slumber on the train, part of the reason he needed her: for moments like this. He recognized that he could not maintain his guard and do what was necessary the entire time, and the person he trusted with his back and who understood—Gnosis—could not be around him constantly. These times, Degenbrecher felt like less of his bodyguard and more like his assistant: driving him around; making sure he made it to his appointments; reminding him of things. But, well, it wasn’t like she minded. Easy work, good pay, tolerable company. And certainly, she didn’t think he’d be able to fall asleep in the presence of just anyone.

Gnosis had gently pulled Enciodes against his side, tucking the slumbering Feline’s head into the crook of his neck and wrapping an arm around his back. It was with the most tender touch that he’d ran his fingers through that one disproportionately long lock of hair that brushed Enciodes’ shoulder, and he had smoothed Enciodes’ ears in the same way. For but a moment, through a little crack in his facade, in the way his hand lingered on Enciodes’ jaw, she glimpsed an enormous devotion, and she knew Gnosis would kill for him without a second thought.

And yet, it was belied by the way Gnosis said when Enciodes awoke, “You are the most clingy, sucky cat that I know.” His words disparaged; his arm remained around Enciodes’ back. Honestly, who did he think he was fooling at this point? Degenbrecher snorted to herself as she read her magazine, watching them out of her periphery. It was practically a game at this point.

--

The public’s hatred of Gnosis sometimes transgressed the boundaries of words. Once, they were having one of their usual late evening meetings, Degenbrecher standing and leaning against the back of an armchair, while Enciodes and Gnosis were on the sofa. Enciodes was doing most of the talking, as usual, Gnosis looking mostly bored and tapping his fingers against the cover of the book in his lap in an almost–silent, uneven rhythm.

At length, Gnosis sighed, “If that’s all, then I’ll be retiring for the night.”

“More or less,” Enciodes said. “Are you heading back? You can stay.” He laid his hand on Gnosis’ arm, the one nearest to him, and Gnosis flinched away from him, quickly drawing his arm away. There was an instant of palpable tension in the air, then before Gnosis could move again, Enciodes caught his hand, tugging his sleeve up and revealing a thick layer of bandages wrapped from Gnosis’ elbow to wrist.

The blood drained from Enciodes’ face as he saw it, and Gnosis again made to yank his arm free, this time succeeding and pulling his sleeve back down. Degenbrecher didn’t think she’d ever seen Enciodes look so pale. “The glass order last week,” he whispered, his voice curiously flat. “I’d thought it was larger than your usual. What happened?”

“It’s already been repaired,” Gnosis said, his tone firm and final.

“That’s not what I asked you.” Enciodes’ shock had faded, voice sharpening into something harder. “How did this happen?”

Degenbrecher started to get the feeling she oughtn’t to be there. But if she moved now, she’d just be drawing attention back to herself. So all she did was hold still, staring at the window and watching out of her periphery.

“It was just an accident.”

“You don’t have accidents,” Enciodes said, approaching a growl. “You never make mistakes. Never.”

“I already took care of it, it’s nothing to concern yourself with.”

“Gnosis.”

His tone seemed to have gotten through to Gnosis, because the Liberi huffed with annoyance. “Some delinquent threw a rock through my window, that’s all. It’s not a big deal.”

For an instant, Enciodes looked absolutely livid at the idea, a flash of anger flaring in his eyes before it was restrained. “You were badly injured and you’re telling me it’s not a big deal? Look at the size of these—”

“Stop being such a baby. You think I care about a few cuts? Cleaning up the glass was far more hassle than bandaging a wound.”

“If it had struck some of your equipment, it could have ended in disaster—you could have—”

Before he could finish, Gnosis covered his mouth. They stared hard at each other for a long moment, then Gnosis stood and left. This time, Enciodes made no move to stop him, watching the door shut, and when he’d gone, Enciodes rested his elbow on his knee, hand pressed to his lips. A thick silence fell, and a long moment passed before Enciodes straightened up.

His stormy eyes flicked up towards her. “You may leave, Degenbrecher.”

She did.

As she lay awake, she wondered how Enciodes had to feel at the prospect of suddenly losing Gnosis, the lynchpin of his life’s work, and also whom appeared to be his soulmate. It wasn’t a feeling she could really imagine well. For a split second, though, he’d looked positively shaken. Like it wasn’t within the realm of his calculations.

She wondered if Gnosis wasn’t more rattled by the whole thing than he was acting. He had to know, much like Enciodes had said, that if the rock had hit the wrong thing, his entire lab and himself included could have gone up in flames, or worse; he worked with Originium, after all. She pictured him working with his usual intensity; the sudden shatter of glass, the shards slicing through his arm. It must have given him a shock at the moment—or had it? Or had he simply cleaned and bandaged the cuts, tidied the lab, covered the hole, and returned to work as if it had been only a minor interruption? Gnosis had lived with the knowledge that he was loathed for a long time. It wasn’t like that was anything new to him.

She thought about the way Gnosis had simply left, cutting the argument to the quick before it could happen, and about the way Enciodes hadn’t pursued him, just watched him leave.

Man, these two had an odd relationship. But then, they were odd people.

Degenbrecher held her tongue the next day as she watched Enciodes coolly order his subordinates to discover who had been behind the attack, and task Weiss specifically with tracking down the perpetrator and bringing them to him personally.

“This is unacceptable. Gnosis is a Karlan Trade employee, and Karlan Trade will not permit sabotage and personal attacks against its employees.”

Gnosis is under my protection, he was stating. Degenbrecher suspected Gnosis would sneer at this sentiment if he were present.

She wasn’t there when the perpetrator of the attack was located, so she didn’t know what had become of them. But she knew that one evening she came in to find Enciodes sitting by the fire, nursing a glass of liquor and staring into the flames, his face expressionless. On the table beside him was a stack of dog-eared, blood-stained documents, and a thunderous aura hung around him.

She didn’t doubt that he’d noticed her presence, so she stood by to await any further orders, since it was not yet the customary hour when she clocked out.

At least two or three minutes passed before he spoke. “You know,” he remarked lowly, “there are times when I start to think maybe Gnosis is right.”

Degenbrecher cocked her head slightly. “About?”

“About being too kind. Too patient, too merciful, too gentle.” Enciodes swirled the contents of his glass around. “Gnosis is always telling me that I am far too lenient with everyone; that if I were a bit firmer, we could accomplish our goals in half the time; that instead of painstakingly chipping away at Kjerag’s ice with a table knife, we could use a pick, and sever it all at once and be done with it. Kjerag is like a recalcitrant burdenbeast, he says, obstinately digging its hooves in regardless of how it is coaxed, and one day, the carrot will be insufficient to make it move.”

That sounded very like Gnosis. It was the one thing they disagreed upon regularly, with Enciodes favoring the slow approach to change and Gnosis believing it better to do it in one fell swoop. Yet nevertheless, Gnosis tended to cede to him most of the time, acknowledging that Enciodes was correct that Kjerag would not accept the changes if they were foisted upon them too aggressively.

Enciodes tipped his head back against the wing of his armchair, eyes closed and exhaling a heavy, weary breath through his nose. “Kjerag, Kjerag,” he murmured, “o’ how dearly beloved, yet how unutterably tiresome thou can be.”

It was evident that Enciodes wasn’t really talking to her at this point—he was just venting. But that didn’t mean Degenbrecher couldn’t listen. She kept silent, waiting for him to continue.

And after a moment, he did.

“The Court will not punish the one responsible for the attack. They do not acknowledge the endangerment of both Gnosis and the surrounding area, only the trespassing onto my private land.” He opened his eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling. “When I pointed out the destruction of property, at best, they ruled that I ought to be paid for the cost of replacing the glass, but only on account of the fact that I was the one who had the lab built to Gnosis’ specifications. If they had it their way, the criminal would go free with no consequences whatsoever.”

He gestured vaguely at the table beside him.

“I took the matter into my own hands, of course. Same as always. Yet… in a just world, I would not have to do such a thing—yet in a just world, I would not be here at all. Kjerag would have developed along with the rest of Terra; my parents would still be alive; Gnosis would have never been forced to leave; a thousand things would all be different. But this is not the world in which we live, and I have long since come to terms with that.

“Yet sometimes I wonder… will our goals truly change Kjerag for the better if their hearts do not change? The Kjerag people are good people, that I believe—but here, just like anywhere else in the world, they are susceptible to lies and corruption. Even if we rebuild Kjerag from the ground up, there isn’t any guarantee that such human diseases won’t seep their way insidiously within once more. All we can do is hope. In a way, I do not fault Arctosz and the Paleroches for their hypervigilance, for their suspicion of all from the outside, of all that deviates even slightly from that which is written in our scriptures. They have forever been the most faithful guardians of Kjerag. But their fatal flaw is that they cannot protect Kjerag from itself.”

Enciodes fell silent then, taking another sip of his drink.

At length, just as she was beginning to wonder if she ought to leave him to his brooding, he said, “Forgive me. None of this is of any importance to you.”

Degenbrecher shrugged, then realized maybe he wouldn’t see the gesture. But when it came to something to say, she didn’t know how to put her thoughts into words.

Technically, it wasn’t of any importance to her—what did she care about Kjerag’s politics? But she had a vested interest in seeing them succeed, if only for her own selfish reasons. She liked Kjerag. She liked her job. She liked her boss. He was trying to do something good, and it would be a shame if all of that were to disappear.

“It’s important to my job,” she settled for saying. “Which I take seriously.”

Enciodes smiled slightly, huffing an almost silent laugh. “You may go. I’ll compensate you for listening to the ramblings of a madman.”

She did. She didn’t think he was a madman—well, much, anyway.

Not long after that incident, they left Kjerag for Victoria, and the two of them spent several hours holed up in the bedroom. Starting to get worried after a while, she silently approached the door, and she could hear their voices on the other side, though she couldn’t make out the words. Talking, a little roughly. Not quite arguing, but skirting the edges. She went back downstairs and left them to it.

When they finally showed their faces in the late afternoon, Gnosis was sporting a massive bite mark on the side of his neck and Enciodes had a line of red scratches in a similar location, but they seemed much less tense than before, so she presumed they’d sorted it out. It wasn’t technically any of her business, though she supposed that if they ever wanted a sympathetic ear, she’d lend one, but it was exceedingly rare that they actually complained about each other beyond an occasional grumble.

Still, when she had Gnosis alone for some reason or another, she asked, “Why didn’t you say anything about the window?”

“Enciodes has enough to worry about. It was a minor incident and a minor injury, and a learning experience. If anything, it was my own fault for not confirming beforehand that the glass of my windows was thick enough to resist a stray rock. I can’t be bothering him with this sort of thing.”

Degenbrecher stared at his face, but it was hard and set, cold and stony. “I think he’d say it’s not a bother. Actually kind of important, in case there was an explosion or something.”

“He has enough to worry about.” That was all he would say.

--

Apart from trouble at home, the two of them tended to be trouble when they were together. Aside from the fact that she would, despite best efforts, occasionally walk in on them necking—usually when they were traveling, as if they took the opportunity away from home to be handsy—they hatched the most awful plans when it was the both of them.

It wasn’t ever anything bad enough to make her quit, but after the second time that a building in the near vicinity caught fire and Gnosis examined his fingernails with supreme boredom, she started to get a little suspicious. That feeling only grew when the third time, they gave each other a look and smiled in a way that reminded her of two boys who’d just gotten up to some mischief; who’d just set a prank and received the reaction they’d wanted.

“Alright,” she said, putting her hands on her hips, “what have you two done?”

“Nothing,” Gnosis answered with disinterest.

“That compound over there where we were ten minutes ago is burning.”

“I don’t see how that has to do with us, and we’re in no danger to begin with, so of what concern is it to you?”

“I need to know these things in order to do my job,” she pointed out. “Kind of important.”

“Gnosis would not endanger us,” Enciodes cut in placidly, effectively ending the argument before it began. “In excess, anyway, or needlessly.”

“Very reassuring,” Degenbrecher said sarcastically, and Enciodes merely smiled.

“I trust Gnosis implicitly.”

She glanced between them, and they exchanged their own look. Enciodes shrugged, and Gnosis rolled his eyes. “How long did you say you’ve known each other?”

“I don’t keep track of these things,” Gnosis replied, pushing his glasses up.

“Almost twenty years,” Enciodes answered, almost proudly, his tail flicking in that way that meant he was pleased.

Degenbrecher didn’t know how old they were; maybe thirty-ish? Basically their entire lives, then. That explained a lot. “Just let me know next time you’re going to burn something, yeah? Just as a heads-up.”

Gnosis made a noncommittal noise. He was wearing that look that said ‘I’ll take it under consideration,’ which meant he was going to completely disregard what she’d just said.

When they weren’t causing trouble, they were entertaining, at least. And putting up with a little mild PDA was worth the fancy food they’d treat her to, because Enciodes was never one to hesitate to have a good meal; but dinner with the both of them could range from edifying to childish.

Sometimes they discussed philosophy or ethics or the subject of some play or opera; other times they talked business; other times they commented on the most meaningless of things that sometimes devolved into an extremely polite exchange of insults and Degenbrecher hid her snickers in her glass. It was remarkable that they’d find the most genteel, euphemistic ways of calling each other horrible names, as if they wouldn’t be walking out of there arm in arm half an hour later.

They consistently divvied up their meals, giving each other half to taste or the bits they didn’t like—Enciodes didn’t like beets, and Gnosis wasn’t a pickle fan. Dessert was similarly divided, and Gnosis nagged Enciodes about drinking too much coffee and Enciodes nagged him about not eating at all. They truly acted like people who had known each other their whole lives—or an old married couple. They had no discomfort around each other, and little around her, as time went on.

Eventually, Gnosis loosened up around her, at least as much as someone like Gnosis who never let his guard down would. He didn’t quite snark at her the same way he did with his partner, but he started to use her presence to make his frosty jokes at Enciodes’ expense. Degenbrecher wasn’t sure if she could get away with teasing her boss just yet, so she mostly held her tongue and let them bicker, which they did often, presumably because they enjoyed it.

“So help me, Enciodes, I will stab you,” Gnosis said once, in the tone of somebody discussing the weather.

“Says the man who hasn’t been practicing his swordsmanship,” Enciodes replied without even looking up from his plate. “You couldn’t stab your way out of a pile of pillows.”

“Why would I need to practice my swordsmanship when I could just stab you while you’re sleeping?”

“Telling your target ahead of time you plan to assassinate them defeats the purpose, dear. Unless you mean to ‘stab’ me with an entirely different ‘sword’...”

“Are you twelve years old?”

Speaking of swordsmanship, Degenbrecher was intrigued to discover this about her employer. Of course, she knew the cane that never left his side had a steel blade concealed in it, but she had never seen him use it, nor expected him to know anything beyond basics. Curiosity piqued, she asked him about it during a lull one day.

“You practice swordsmanship?”

An unmistakable spark of interest danced in his eye, a slow smile spreading across his lips. “I do, of my own native style. But alas, I am no match for the three-time champion of the Major.”

She knew that, but: “I’ll get rusty if I keep my blades in their sheaths all the time. Care to spar?”

Enciodes’ smile widened. “Go easy on me.”

“Don’t worry,” she grinned, “I have no intention of losing my paycheck.”

Degenbrecher did go easy on him, as there was no point in breaking his arm or anything. He didn’t particularly pose a challenge or anything, despite the novelty of his style, but the motions felt good; the flow of the movement and the action, that old familiar concentration and reaction. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t make her feel a little more alive. It was all second nature, and it was everything she’d ever known, everything she’d embraced for so long.

She did have to remind herself that they were just sparring—but then again, Enciodes didn’t appear to mind when she knocked the blade out of his hand and threw him to the floor. No, if anything, he looked exhilarated.

“I see—I see your reputation is not exaggerated,” he said, slightly out of breath.

“I hope you’re not holding back.”

“I would never.”

“I’d say you’re not half bad, but that would be more to preserve your ego than any actual truth.”

“My ego can handle a bruising, contrary to what Gnosis says,” he smiled.

“Up for another bout, then?”

“Certainly.”

The outcome was the same, but that didn’t really make it less enjoyable. After all, when was the last time she’d had the chance to spar for fun with someone? And that someone being her boss of all people?

She was really starting to like this job.

The sparring became a regular thing. Once or twice a week, after Enciodes closed the office for the day, they would head for the training room, which thus far she had used largely by her lonesome, usually after-hours or when she knew where her charge was, and nobody really saw fit to bother her while she was practicing.

Sometimes they would use blades, other times they would use merely their fists. Although Degenbrecher preferred a blade, she had no complaints about fighting bare-handed either. She had the upper hand regardless on account of her strength, and it was, no matter what form, a game to her, because when she truly fought, Degenbrecher fought to disable and to kill. This was the opposite of her goal right now, so refraining from that automatically made the whole thing nothing more than an exercise. But that wasn’t bad. Enciodes only asked that she not hit his face, due to the fact that any bruises would cause gossip to spread (but also out of some vanity, she suspected, but whatever).

Occasionally, Gnosis would come and sit on the sidelines, writing or reading as he waited for them to finish, occasionally looking up to watch. Degenbrecher wondered if his presence made Enciodes try harder in order to impress his partner, but Gnosis seemed to enjoy the sight of Degenbrecher throwing him on the floor more than anything.

“It’s good to see someone take him down a peg,” he commented once when Enciodes wiped a rivulet of blood from the corner of his mouth where he’d bit the edge of his tongue. “Maybe you’ll knock some sense into him while you’re at it.”

“I can do you too if you like,” she said.

His reply was immediate and crisp. “No, thank you.”

“If you ask nicely I won’t toss you around as much,” she winked.

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Not to worry,” Enciodes said as he picked himself off the floor, “I’ll make sure Gnosis receives his share of physical activity—” An ice crystal whizzing through the air between his ears cut him off, though it didn’t do anything to lessen his smirk.

“Your tendency to make the most immature jokes off the clock is very irritating, Enciodes,” he said coldly.

“I’m only stating the truth; after all, it does burn a lot of—” A second icicle narrowly missed his head as he ducked under it with a practiced ease.

Gnosis was scathing. “Let me know when the CEO is back in the office. I had an important matter to discuss with him.”

Before they could get started, she said, “Hey, Gnosis. Do that again.”

Gnosis raised an eyebrow slightly, and conjured an ice crystal above his hand with a snap of his fingers. Before he could make to fling it towards Enciodes, Degenbrecher shook her head and gestured at herself.

To his credit, he didn’t hesitate to hurl it directly at her. As soon as she saw his arm move, she snapped out her own—and caught the icicle midair.

The chill burned against her bare skin, but she ignored it, instead crushing it between her fingers. The shards thumped on the floor, and she shook the droplets from her hand. “Next time aim for my head,” she said.

Gnosis’ eyes narrowed. “You’re resistant to Arts. Where’s the entertainment in it for you? It’s not a muscle which needs to be maintained.”

“It’ll be entertaining if you can shoot more than one.”

“Gnosis can,” Enciodes chimed in, and ignored the glare which Gnosis threw his way.

“You’re not our personal trainer,” he said.

“I know, I don’t care. It’s just a way to stay sharp and blow off steam—which you might enjoy, actually.”

For a moment she thought Gnosis was going to refuse, and respond with one of his usual cutting remarks—but after a second, he pressed his lips together, frowning. “I doubt there is room in my schedule for this… and I’ve already practiced my Arts enough.”

“Practice is always good.”

He made a noncommittal noise. “Enciodes, I need you to look at this.”

That signaled the end of the conversation, which was a bit too bad in her opinion as she would’ve liked to try to convince him some more, but if there was one thing Degenbrecher knew it was that Gnosis was incredibly stubborn, and trying to push him into something would only make him dig his heels in more, and only Enciodes knew how to handle him. So she let it be.

That being said, she was taken by surprise one night when she was practicing alone after Enciodes had gone to bed and there came a knock on the doorframe. She looked up to see the dark-haired Liberi stepping inside, face unreadable. He had an Arts unit in his hand, one of the short staves he usually kept on his waist, and he ran his thumb over the handle as she cocked her head in silent question.

“I think we’d be better off doing this outside,” he said.

“Yet you’re here at night.”

“I was busy.”

“Well, I’m game.”

Degenbrecher discovered that Gnosis was actually quite a good caster.

She’d dealt with casters aplenty in Leithanien, so she could say she had some experience with them, and Gnosis was more skilled than she’d expected—more skilled than he’d let on. But the ice was new. She wondered if it was his natural affinity or if he had chosen it, but regardless, it was fitting that someone from such a frozen land possessed ice Arts.

They went outside, a ways from the house into an empty patch of the gardens, currently frozen over and barren, where Gnosis lit the scattering of lamps, throwing them into a harsh circle of light. A south wind was blowing, and Gnosis pulled his hood up as he put a little space between them. Degenbrecher waited where she stood, curious what he would do, and the only warning she had was the slight twist of his wrist before a cluster of ice crystals exploded around her.

Degenbrecher reacted on instinct: in a heartbeat her sword was in her hand as she flinched and twisted away, ducking and slicing the icicles before they could do more than graze her. They fell to the snow, and no sooner had they touched the whiteness beneath her feet than were more forming around her, a shower of them pelting her from above—and once again, she slashed them out of midair without needing to even think.

So this was how they were going to do this? Fine by her.

She took a step back, bracing herself, and Gnosis shifted his grip on the wand in his hand, and the whirling snowflakes around them thickened into chunks, and Gnosis directed them with only the merest flick of his hand. A barrage of ice flew towards her from multiple directions, but Degenbrecher was ready, and ready or not, this wasn’t enough to stymie her. With a single swing, she shattered part of the salvo, clearing an opening to duck to the right and immediately twist around to cut the rest down. Crystals rained, glittering, from her blade across the ground, and she moved her arm quickly enough to knock the next wave away that she didn’t even need to shake them off. She licked the flecks of water from her lips as she wove and dipped, weathering the occasional blow to the shoulder or torso for the sake of cutting down more.

Surely he could do better than that—and no sooner had the thought crossed her mind than did a cluster of icicles coalesce above Gnosis’ head, swarming in a clockwise spiral before they flew directly towards her. She took off at a run to avoid them, aiming to circle around him to get close enough to knock the wand out of his hand, but she’d barely made it halfway before a sudden wall of ice materialized before her, drawing her up short.

Oh, this was good.

She threw her broadsword down and pulled her swordbreakers from her waist, savoring their familiar feel and weight in her hands, and slashed clean through the wall of ice; the two halves thudded to the ground, the impact juddering up her legs.

A split second later, a fresh wall of ice materialized before her, thicker than before, and this too she cleaved, only for another to take its place. Grinning, Degenbrecher dug her heels in and took a breath, then launched herself at the wall of ice, and as fast as her arms moved to cut through the ice, it replenished itself—she could see it materializing before her very eyes, wispy blue light coalescing into frozen water in less than a second.

But as fast as Gnosis was, as fast as he willed the ice into being, she was still faster. That instant of delay between his thoughts and the ice actually forming was all she needed to gain ground, and she advanced step by step towards him, all but literally tearing her way through. Broken fragments littered the ground around her, flying in every direction as she got closer and closer—then with one final lunge, she thrust her blades forward, and a river of cracks shot through the ice, traveling through the entire block, and massive chunks of it crumbled and fell, opening a clear, jagged tunnel of space between the two of them.

Through the gap in the ice, Gnosis’ golden eyes stared at her, pupils dilated with adrenaline, his rapid breaths fogging up the space between his face and the ice, obscuring part of his glasses. He didn’t move, frozen perhaps in surprise or perhaps because he could tell he’d lost.

Degenbrecher lowered her arms, flicking the water off her swordbreakers and sheathing them back at her waist. “Not bad,” she said. “You’re pretty good at this.”

He waved the wand, and the wall of ice dissipated as he wiped a bead of sweat from his jaw with the back of his hand. Suddenly she noticed that in spite of his thick coat, he was shivering. “I… I don’t like to use it a lot.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you Infected?”

“I am not,” he said curtly. “It’s just taxing.” He tucked the wand back into the holster at his waist, and pulled his hood back up. “No point in showing off if I don’t need to. The less people know about what I can do, the better.”

“Ah.” Well, she couldn’t argue with that. Maintaining an upper hand was wise. “You always have those on you, though.”

“You never know when you’ll need a weapon,” Gnosis said, eyes flitting out towards the edges of the field, and suddenly Degenbrecher remembered that the vast majority of Kjerag loathed Gnosis’ very existence.

“Agreed. I understand,” she said quietly, “more than you think.”

Gnosis looked at her, then; really looked at her, one of his intent, dissecting, penetrating looks, and she didn’t much like the feeling of being scrutinized so closely, but she allowed it, meeting his gaze calmly.

“The Leithanian who cannot use Arts,” he said.

She wasn’t surprised he knew; undoubtedly he’d researched her. She wasn’t offended. “Precisely.”

He nodded once, a silent acknowledgment, then muttered, “That stupid cat and his predilection for collecting outcasts,” but he sounded more fond than actually annoyed.

Degenbrecher dared to pat his back. “Let’s get you inside before you catch a chill.”

Despite this, though, it wasn’t often that Gnosis tapped her for practice. Both he and Enciodes had workaholic tendencies, but Gnosis was worse. He seemed physically incapable of not working, of not doing something, of going anywhere without a book—printed or note—in hand; seemed to have a need to be occupied at all times. Enciodes was continually reminding Gnosis to clock out when he remembered, sometimes going to his lab to all but physically drag him away, sometimes withholding Gnosis from leaving the manor in the evening with an arm around him, or even gently taking the book from his hands and pointing out the hour, something Degenbrecher suspected nobody else would be able to get away with.

(Once, she joked to Enciodes, “Does he set a timer while you’re in bed too?”

The Feline actually looked horrified by the suggestion. “Degenbrecher, you’ll give me nightmares,” he shuddered, and she snickered.)

So it was always a surprise when he did appear, staves in hand, but she didn’t have any complaints about it.

Once, Enciodes went with them, and he perched on a rock at the edge of the clearing to watch and cheerfully ignored Gnosis’ comment that if he got hit it would be his own fault.

Just as all the previous times, though, she found it fun. It was all about speed: a skilled caster reacted at the speed of thought, and the pressure to react just as quickly—no, quicker, to anticipate and read what the caster would do and act before they did to gain the upper hand—was a pleasant challenge. For each icicle that Gnosis hurled and manifested her way, she had a slash ready for it. To give him at least a little advantage, she always started on the opposite end of the clearing, pulverizing and smashing her way through the ice that Gnosis tried to delay her with.

He conjured walls and pillars of ice out of thin air to try to knock her down; attempted to drop blocks on her from above; showered her in a hailstorm of icicles that had her dipping and weaving in a whirlwind of movement to keep from being hit. Gnosis didn’t pull any punches: his crystals were sharp and hard, and they did hurt if they struck her. Degenbrecher didn’t wear her uniform when they sparred so as not to damage it, instead donning a light jacket of leather to avoid any puncture wounds, and even with that she often came away bruised; not that she minded getting hit or getting bruised.

So: she found it fun, even if Gnosis didn’t indulge her more than once a month or so. Heck, she’d say actually that Gnosis gave her more of a challenge than Enciodes did, though inevitably, she’d crush her way towards him and disarm him, often ducking behind him to put him into a headlock or catch his hands to disable him. Sometimes he’d still try to land a hit on her even then, and once he’d succeeded in dropping a cluster on her head—but he had forgotten to account for her horns, and the whole mass had struck him more than her.

Invariably, he ended the match shivering and gasping and squirming in her grasp, and he’d make a haughty noise of acknowledgment when she told him it was a good fight. Off to the side, Enciodes applauded as he approached them, tugging Gnosis’ hood up over his head before leaning in to whisper something in his ear, and Gnosis frowned.

“I’m not doing that,” Gnosis said.

Enciodes sighed. “Very well.”

“You just want to see it, you’re such a child.”

“It’s very impressive, though.”

Degenbrecher decided to cut in. “What are you two muttering about?”

As Enciodes opened his mouth, Gnosis elbowed him in the ribs. “Don’t you dare.”

Something which resembled a pout flickered across Enciodes’ face. “Alright, alright.”

“Tell me,” she said.

“It’s nothing important,” Gnosis said warningly. “It’s just Enciodes being a pain.”

She got the hint. She filed the question away to ask later, when it was just herself and her boss in the office at an opportune time.

“So what was that thing that Gnosis didn’t want you to tell me?”

“Oh, it’s just an old trick,” Enciodes said offhandedly. “One of the Edelweiss family techniques, they call it Hypothermia. He used to use it to cheat at snowball fights when we were children.”

Ah, so they’d grown up together. No wonder they acted the way they did. “You let him cheat?”

“Well, that was part of the fun. He’d try to hit me and I’d try not to get hit in the process of trying to tackle him and break his focus. I’m more resilient to the elements than he is anyway.” Enciodes smiled, his gaze faraway, caught up in the memory. “Once, when we were in university, he chased me around the whole block where our apartment was after I hit him in the back of the head with a snowball.”

Degenbrecher had to admit she had some trouble picturing that image. Then again, she supposed even these two had once been teenagers. “Who won?”

“He won that time, if only because he managed to get me against a wall. Loser gets snow shoved down his pants.”

She snorted. Boys. “You went to university together?” She hadn’t missed the fact that he’d said ‘our’ apartment.

“Yes, in Victoria.” He sighed, a little wistfully. “Those were good times.”

But Degenbrecher did actually get a chance to witness the famous Hypothermia once. Gnosis was in a good mood that day, something which she suspected stemmed from the fact that they happened to be in Victoria where he was not scorned on sight, and the fact that the previous night, the two of them had gone to bed early with a few salacious looks at each other. Degenbrecher had spent a nice evening lounging on the couch of their townhouse rubbing oil into her horns and sipping tea until it was her own bedtime, hearing absolutely nothing from either downstairs or her room.

(Rarely, as she laid in bed, eyes closed, she’d wonder what they were like in bed, then put that thought back where it came from. Wasn’t any of her business.)

They’d gone out to attend to some sort of business in a nearby town, something Degenbrecher hadn’t really understood. It was near the end of the day, and they were driving back towards the city, golden light slanting across the road and the fields, dyeing the wavering grass the color of burnished metal, tinged with a brilliant hint of orange, a trace of reddish-purple snaking through the clouds on the horizon. They’d rolled down the windows a bit to get a nice breeze in, despite the velocity. They’d be home in a little under an hour, and Degenbrecher was enjoying both the sight and the trip, for all that she was playing chauffeur.

Enciodes’ calm voice broke through her reverie. “Degenbrecher, pull over for a moment.”

She did, then looked over her shoulder at him: Enciodes was looking at Gnosis with a hopeful smile.

“Do the blizzard for us. There’s no-one around for miles.”

“You’re such a child, Enciodes,” Gnosis sighed. “You never change.”

“Please?”

“Alright, alright. Just this once.”

They got out of the car, and crunched a little ways through the grass. Degenbrecher halted when Enciodes did, though Gnosis continued several more paces before stopping. He turned to face them, and brushed a lock of hair behind his ear as he drew the leather-bound book he often carried with him from his waist. From the holster always clipped to his belt loops, he pulled one of his short staves, and with each item in hand, opened the book, and a faint, bluish glow began to emanate from the pages. Though his lips moved, she couldn’t make out what he was saying, if he was saying anything at all—but this was familiar, too. If not a song, then it was a poem, or an incantation, something to concentrate and channel his Arts. She’d tried those countless times in attempts to rouse something, anything, from within, but had never managed so much as a spark.

Gnosis raised the stave above his head, and a myriad of ice crystals crackled into being around them, surrounding them completely in a globe of glittering blue, through which a thousand rays of light refracted, bathing them in a dazzling, chilly radiance. Goosebumps rose on Degenbrecher’s skin, the ice so pure that she could see her own reflection hundredfold, the landscape beyond nothing but a hazy smear of colors.

Abruptly, the ice shattered, fragmenting into an enormous cloud of glittering snowflakes fluttering down around them, flashing in the sun, settling delicately on her cheeks and nose. A foot away, Enciodes had his head tipped up, smiling as several stuck on his bangs and eyelashes.

Gnosis lowered the stave in his hand, tucking it away with a brief flourish—ha, he was just as dramatic as his partner at times, and just as quickly as the ice had materialized, it disappeared, its shards melting away into the grass.

“Hmph. Such hassle for a mere few seconds,” Gnosis said, shutting the book.

“Ah, but it’s always beautiful,” said Enciodes, and kissed his cheek.

--

Another interesting thing she discovered about Gnosis was that he knew his way around weapons. Enciodes sent her to fetch him for something or other, and she had been surprised that he wasn’t in his lab conducting experiments as usual. The lights there were off, but some ways away she spotted the radiance of a lamp, and her ears could discern the rhythmic sound of metal on metal emanating from that direction. Curious, she followed it, and after rounding a bend, she came to an open doorway where a wall of heat suddenly slammed into her, along with the sharp and pungent scent of iron.

Immediately she saw, by warm orange glow of firelight, that it was a smithy. An assortment of hammers hung on the walls, while in another corner was a neat stack of whetstones beside labeled boxes and machinery. A single figure occupied the center of the room. It was, unmistakably, Gnosis; there was no mistaking his dark hair, his feathers, his sweater beneath the heavy smock. He was patiently, rhythmically beating at a white-hot strip of steel clenched between a pair of tongs, elongating it from its rectangular shape into the crude blueprint of a blade against the typical smith’s anvil.

On account of the noise, it took him a moment to notice her, only looking up when she made a little wave to catch his attention. He set his hammer down, tilting his head inquisitively at her in the same way Enciodes did. His face was a little flushed, glasses slightly askew.

“Boss wants you,” she said.

“Ah.” He quenched the steel in a nearby barrel, sending up a cloud of steam, then extinguished the forge. “It must be that thing I told him about last week.”

Watching him put away his tools, she decided to make a comment. “You… make weapons?”

“It’s just a hobby,” Gnosis said. “I find it relaxing.”

Degenbrecher contemplated the concept of Gnosis having a hobby. Well, there wasn’t any reason for him to lie, and it wasn’t as though she couldn’t understand how hitting something repeatedly and literally hammering it into shape would not be stress-relieving. She hadn’t thought Gnosis had the upper body strength for it, though. Obviously, he wasn’t frail or anything, but he was less visibly muscled than his partner, and Gnosis and blunt heavy instruments like hammers didn’t really seem to go together. Fascinating.

She made it a point to find a chance to watch him when she was off-duty, and once, she actually managed. It was fairly late at night, and the light in Gnosis’ smithy was the only one on, complementing the glow of the flames. This time, she knocked on the doorframe, and he raised his eyebrows questioningly at the sight of her.

“Can I watch you?”

Gnosis thinned his lips. “I don’t like people watching me while I work.” He twisted his mouth. “But… alright, just this once. Don’t distract me.”

He hadn’t made much progress since the last time she’d been there, and she watched as he stoked the flames and pulled on his thick gloves and smock. The steel rectangle he’d been working on went into the furnace, and when it was red and glowing, he pulled it out and began shaping it once more with a hammer. The clanging filled the smithy, and Degenbrecher mused that the whole thing couldn’t seem further from a laboratory and delicate experiments, but Gnosis’ focus was complete and total: he seemed to have a clear idea of what he was aiming for, because now and then he would pause and flip the steel over, careful to ensure that it was symmetrical—the material evenly distributed, she supposed.

After a time, Gnosis paused, examining his handiwork critically after a quench, and made a soft noise of satisfaction. “Good,” he said absently, clearly speaking to himself, “can start grinding now. Still too hot though.”

Degenbrecher decided to chance a comment. “What got you into this?”

“It’s a family tradition, actually.” He lay down his tools, removing his glasses to wipe the sweat off his face with a cloth. “I have that much, at least.”

As he reached for a nearby bottle of water and took a drink, she mused that the usually irritable Gnosis looked quite relaxed. “Seems a bit of an odd custom for you.”

He shrugged. “I don’t especially care.”

She wondered if he made them as gifts, or just for fun—no, it was surely the latter; she couldn’t imagine Gnosis gifting anyone anything, especially not something handmade. It wasn’t in his personality.

Then she didn’t have time to think about it anymore, because his little break was apparently over: he picked up the crude blade and moved over to another part of the room where he had what appeared to be a belt sander set up. For this, he donned a mask with a clear, full-face visor, and then the whir of machinery and rasp of metal filled the air, silencing any potential conversation as a shower of sparks rained on the floor as he worked on the edges. This, too, he did with the same patience as before, switching from side to side until at last he stopped and moved back into the bright light where the anvil was.

“Getting there?” Degenbrecher asked.

“Getting there,” he said. With a different cloth, he wiped the blade down of any stray shavings. “Still has a ways to go, though. Not to state the obvious, but it’s a very laborious process; would take even longer if I didn’t have the machines, and I don’t have the space here for a mechanical power hammer. Though then again, with something this small, it has to be done by hand regardless.”

“Can I see?”

Wordlessly he passed it to her, and Degenbrecher saw that he was making a dagger, though he had not yet cut off the excess steel to shape the handle, as the blade was no more than hand’s length. Knowing Gnosis’ meticulous and exacting nature, he would undoubtedly work at it until he deemed it perfect.

When she passed it back and he had set it down and leaned against the table for another rest, at last Gnosis asked a question she’d long expected. “May I see your weapons?”

Without hesitation, Degenbrecher drew her broadsword from her hip and proffered it, hilt first. “Think you can handle it?”

Gnosis ignored this joke, accepting the weapon and resting the flat of the blade on his palm as he examined it. He held it up to the light, looking at the hilt, the crossguard, and the pommel, then flipped it over to look at the length of the blade, angling it just right so the light reflected off the metal.

At length, he said in his usual clipped and clinical tone, “I don’t know what you expect me to say beyond the fact that it’s a well-made weapon. The thickness of the blade no doubt compensates for your strength, as well. We used to have Zweihanders like this here way back in the day, but… not anymore.”

She had to admit she was slightly impressed both by the fact that he’d instantly identified its type and that his tongue did not trip on the pronunciation.

“But this isn’t a proper Zweihander; it’s far too short.” Gently, Gnosis rested the tip on the ground, rubbing his fingers over the pommel. “Those typically measure at least a meter and a half, and are carried across the shoulder. Even someone of Enciodes’ height would not be able to comfortably carry a blade of that length at his hip. I would say it resembles more of a claymore, but the crossguard is more of Leithanian style, not to mention the clear oversized hilt for a double–handed grip. Custom-made?”

Degenbrecher raised an eyebrow at him. “You know more than I expected.”

He raised his eyebrows back. “What kind of fool doesn’t know the depths of his own hobby?”

“True.” She was well and truly impressed with him now, but she didn’t especially make a point of showing it. “Well, to answer your question—yeah, it is custom. Average sword is just too weak for me.”

Handing it back to her, Gnosis said, “It’s rather scratched; in battle, I presume.”

She smirked as she sheathed it once more. “That’d be correct.”

“I would offer to repair the damage if you chip an edge, but if you had it specially made, I may not be able to replicate the composition.”

“Probably won’t be necessary, but I’ll keep it in mind…” She stared at him for a moment, at the way his expression was very prim, as if he were trying his absolute best to maintain a poker face. His fingers drummed silently on the table he was leaning against, and she rather had the impression that he’d actually wanted to handle the sword some more. “Thanks.”

Gnosis shrugged. “What about those?” He nodded at the swordbreakers behind her leg.

“Ah, these…” Well, she’d already let him handle her old buddy. Slowly she pulled one out of its holster. “These are…” My favorites. My name. “…Well, here.”

Once again she held it out hilt–first, musing darkly that Gnosis was perhaps the first person in a long time whom she’d allowed to touch them. It wasn’t… an unpleasant feeling.

But he seemed to sense it, accepting the weapon with the appropriate reverence, holding it up gently in both hands.

“What a fascinating weapon,” he murmured. A spark of what was clearly wonder danced in his eyes, and he looked like an excited child before something favored—which she supposed wasn’t an inapt comparison. Cute. “I’ve never had the opportunity to handle one of these.”

Degenbrecher held her tongue, observing him marveling over something that had been her constant companion for so long as if it was a rare treasure. Well, maybe it was.

“This design is Yanese in origin,” he added, “not Leithanian—it doesn’t have any teeth… they call it jian, if I recall correctly.” He hefted it, releasing it briefly to hold it in one hand only. “Very heavy, of course, to facilitate its function.”

Then he turned it around to look at the hilt, taking in no doubt the grooves where her hands had worn it smooth over the years; the imprints of her palms and fingers sinking into the metal; then trailed his fingertips along two of the sides of the cubic blade, thumb gliding along one of the edges, no doubt finding the tiny nicks and scratches from the countless impacts the blade had weathered.

His eyes flicked up towards her. “You’ve broken many a sword with this, haven’t you.”

“The audience in Kazimierz always went wild for it.” For a moment, she let herself get lost in the memory: the cheering of the crowd filling her ears; the rush of adrenaline in her veins as the battle would begin. Inevitably, most opponents proved no match for her: too slow, too weak, too reliant on Arts that had no effect on her and weapons that stood no chance against her strength. But every time she shattered a blade in a rain of steel, the cheer always bellowed into a roar.

She wasn’t especially attached to Kazimierz, but she couldn’t deny that it was there where she’d found some meaning and fulfillment.

“Even one of these would be deadly in the right hands, much less two. No wonder you were unstoppable.” Gnosis turned it over again, clearly fascinated by the design of the blade. “I ought to try to make one some time—four edges is such an interesting design…” He sighed with open admiration and perhaps a little envy, then passed her the sword back.

Degenbrecher sheathed it once more, its weight familiar and comfortable hanging from her waist. “Satisfied?”

“For now.” He leaned back against the table, and with a sigh, cast a rueful glance around at the smithy. “I’ve spent too long here; it’s late.” He removed his gloves and put them away, going around turning out the lights.

With a glance at the clock, she confirmed that it was, in fact, late, but she didn’t think it was a wasted evening.

--

Aside from swordsmanship, Enciodes’ hobbies also included hunting and chess. The latter he often indulged in on his breaks, claiming it cleared his mind by giving him something else to focus on. Gnosis was his favored opponent, but Gnosis didn’t indulge him in that vein very often, and it was perhaps inevitable that one evening Enciodes tossed Degenbrecher a piece and asked her if she’d like to join him.

She rubbed the carved figurine between her fingers. “I don’t know how to play, boss.”

“I can teach you, if you like.”

He did, with a patience and aplomb that Degenbrecher found mystifying. She did her best, if only to kill time, but she had the feeling she wasn’t going to end up as good as either of them. Ah well.

As for the former, it was a slightly different matter.

The first time, she watched Enciodes trading his usual windbreaker and tie combination for thicker, more traditional and fur-lined garb with some curiosity, and his actions were explained when he slung a quiver of arrows and a longbow over his shoulder. Seemed a bit weird that he’d go out and do this personally, but then, he was a weird person. It had to be more for fun than necessity.

As she followed him, however, he paused at the edge of the manor grounds. “Degenbrecher, I’m going hunting,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, and? I’m going with you. Seems like a prime place for an ambush, no?”

“Well, yes, but… have you ever… hunted before?”

“No, but I don’t see what the problem is.”

Enciodes sighed, just slightly, then said, “Well, there isn’t one, exactly. Just follow my lead, I suppose.”

She had the faint impression this was a thing he liked to do alone—but then, if he really wanted her to leave him, he could say so. She’d just stay in the area. It didn’t really make sense to her, though: here was a man who many people wanted dead and his idea of fun was to go stalking around in the woods precisely where there might be waiting traps and assassins for him? Weird. (She had to go with him at least once so she could judge if it was safe.)

Regardless, off he went, his big fowlbeast on his shoulder.

Conversationally, Enciodes commented, “You know, Tenzin is adept at more than hunting game.”

Degenbrecher eyed the beast, and the beast eyed her right back as it preened a lock of Enciodes’ hair with some affection, and perhaps some warning. “You sound like Gnosis when you make veiled threats like that.” She didn’t add that the fowlbeast reminded her of Gnosis, too; they had the same frosty glare.

“I’m not making a threat,” he said, scratching gently at Tenzin’s throat as he adjusted the beast’s bandana. “I meant that with Tenzin, I am not entirely without protection. More than once, he has alerted me to something unusual among the trees… and more than once he’s sharpened his beak on the eye sockets of a skull rather than an antlerbeast’s trachea. Haven’t you, Tenzin?” he added in a syrupy coo, and the beast nibbled at his finger with a little chirrup.

“I think you speak more sweetly to your pet than you do your boyfriend.”

“Gnosis would hit me if I spoke to him like that,” Enciodes chuckled. “And his punches hurt more than they appear.”

Degenbrecher could picture that, having seen it before. Usually Gnosis just smacked him lightly upside the head and called him something rude if he was being aggravating, but once Gnosis had actually slugged Enciodes on the shoulder for something or other, muttering you’re such an ass as Enciodes had grinned and rubbed the spot, completely unperturbed.

Hunting was sort of boring to her; she didn’t really see the appeal in the build-up the way Enciodes did. It was just walking, walking, and more walking. But nevertheless, she could appreciate the quietude when Enciodes paused for a break, knocking the snow off a fallen log for the both of them to sit. He offered her a drink from the flask of hot tea in his pack and some bread and cheese, the former of which was welcome. By now, she’d acclimatized to the Kjerag cold, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t appreciate a hot drink.

The taste of butter tea, though, was definitely an acquired one. “They say it’s something only a native could love,” Enciodes had commented when she’d pulled a face at its flavor the first time.

“I’ll stick to my pickled cabbage, thanks,” she’d said. “Who came up with the idea of putting butter in tea?”

Admittedly, she was starting to get used to it. It wasn’t so bad this time, and she appreciated the small gesture that was Enciodes letting her drink first. In the grand scheme of things, a tiny courtesy didn’t change anything, but that didn’t mean that it was without meaning.

Tenzin fluttered down to perch on a branch a few feet away from them, watching them with his bright, beady eyes, occasionally tilting his head as a sound nearby caught his attention.

“It’s not quiet,” she remarked suddenly. “Funny.” She could hear the rustling of the leaves, the beating of wings, the sound of small creatures moving in the brush, and the indistinct noises far off in the distance.

“The woods are never silent,” he said. “City folk always believe that, but it’s not the case. The woods being silent means something is wrong, on the contrary.”

As the wind swept past them, Degenbrecher passed the flask back, scanning the landscape and watching him out of her periphery.

Against the snow, he looked at home, as if it was here that he belonged. The landscape seemed to suit his silver hair and thick, uniquely–patterned tail much more than the harsh city lights under which she’d first seen him in Kazimierz; the cold air brought out a flush in his cheeks; and the fur around his neck and the organic textiles wrapped around his limbs truly made him look like the Kjerag native that he was. According to legend, their goddess had given part of her body to the Silverashes, and if she were the fanciful sort, she would almost be inclined to say that she could see it.

“The wind has changed,” he said. “We’d best get a move on.”

So he gathered his things, and picked up where he’d left off. Degenbrecher couldn’t discern much of a trail, but Enciodes was clearly following something, and he seemed to have some silent rapport with Tenzin, as the beast continually flew ahead and returned, guiding him towards some prey.

This prey was eventually located, a slender–legged antlerbeast which had been separated from its herd by Tenzin, judging by the deep gouges on its flank which were clearly caused by talons. As soon as Enciodes spotted it moving between the trees, he silently bade Degenbrecher stop, drawing an arrow from his quiver and nocking it on his bow.

This moment, in contrast to the earlier one, seemed unfathomably still. Even Degenbrecher held her breath, only the slightest creak of the bowstring audible—then he loosed the arrow, and the stillness was shattered by the impact, and it seemed that everything happened at once. The thunk of the arrowhead sinking into flesh; the thudding of hooves on the ground; the dive of Tenzin from the trees; the scuffle of wings and feathers and legs in the snow; Enciodes jolting forward into movement.

Degenbrecher followed slower, and by the time she reached them, the whole thing was over. The antlerbeast’s body lay on the ground, a single stab wound near the back of the head being the killing blow, Enciodes wiping the knife clean and Tenzin tearing at the antlerbeast’s trachea, peeling away the fur with his beak.

From a pouch, Enciodes pulled a chunk of meat, proffering it and making an odd little whistle, and Tenzin left the beast in favor of Enciodes’ gloved hand. Within a moment, Tenzin had swallowed it, and Enciodes fed him another, smoothing his feathers and murmuring praise. One more morsel, and the fowlbeast fluttered onto a nearby branch and allowed Enciodes to examine their kill.

Apparently satisfied, without any preamble, he hoisted the carcass across his shoulders. “Matterhorn ought to be pleased with this,” he commented. “Shall we head back?”

As they trekked back towards the manor, Degenbrecher noted his high spirits, belied by the flicking of his tail. Out here, away from everything, he wasn’t the CEO of Karlan Trade or even the patriarch of Silverash clan; he was just… a hunter, just like anyone else roving the woods, despite the fact that he of all people could afford to buy meat.

Despite the fact that he and Gnosis were the primary forces pushing for Kjerag to modernize, Enciodes didn’t want to erase any of this. He loved and cared for the traditions of Kjerag just as much as everyone else did, irrespective of how forward–thinking he was. No, perhaps even because he thought the way he did.

This was further proven when she discovered that he was smuggling weapons and military equipment from Victoria, and his secret squadron of elite warriors. It became clear after a while that he didn’t intend to directly go to war with the other clans—at least not if he could help it—but rather, was building a defense force. Of course, she didn’t doubt for a second that it would be useful for him, too, what with the other two wanting him gone and the occasional land dispute. Enciodes was a man who kept not just one trump card up his sleeve, but filled his sleeves with as many as he could.

But Kjerag’s crossbows and spears stood no chance against the rest of the world, that much was obvious. At best, the clans could fight each other, nothing more. Even if they ever had reason to unite against outside forces, they would be quickly destroyed, something that none of the others seemed to realize.

Of course, she made no comments, just silently observed—though she did wonder why on Terra Enciodes had decided to name his squadron after the monsters from folktales designed to keep children in their beds. Tschagattaa. It was so… silly. And worse, she had the feeling that even if she asked Gnosis, the sensible and practical one of the two, Gnosis would have no answer for her.

...They were such brats.

--

Yet with all of this intimacy, Degenbrecher was thrown for a bit of a loop the first time Enciodes mentioned they were departing for leisure at the end of the week, and that she ought to bring a few extra things if she liked.

“Hey, wait,” she said. “If this isn’t a business trip, why do you need me?”

Enciodes cocked his head to the side. “Why wouldn’t we need you?”

“I mean, if you’re traveling on leisure…” She would still prefer to do her job wherever they were, but surely they wouldn’t want her tagging along if they didn’t have need of her protection? “I don’t want to be a third wheel.”

Gnosis snorted to himself, and Enciodes shook his head. “Rest assured,” he said, “you are no such thing. We are glad to have your company.”

Degenbrecher glanced between them, and put the pieces together. There weren’t really many people before whom they could simply be themselves; heck, she might have been the only one, given that it’d been… well, years since she’d been with them at this point. (How many people even knew they were in a relationship, after all.) They were comfortable around her.

“Well, alright. I’m not going to complain.”

“Only the best for you, Degenbrecher,” her boss smiled.

When Enciodes and Gnosis wanted to play, they went to Colombia. Degenbrecher had learned to both dread and anticipate when they went there because roughly half the time it meant they were going to get up to trouble. Half the time it was business, because Karlan Trade did have some branch offices there, but the other half the time, they went incognito to have their fun.

(To be fair, they needed it. She’d witnessed first-hand how stressed they often were. Gnosis always bitched about it a little, but it wasn’t Gnosis if he didn’t bitch about taking time off.)

It had to be said: one thing that was always high on the list for a vacation was sex. Degenbrecher teased them for making out in the back seat of the car as she drove and cheerfully told them to use protection when bidding them good night (Gnosis actually flipped her off once when he was slightly drunk, mouth practically attached to his partner’s, and she’d laughed all the way to her own room) and joke about dragging them out of the open and them needing to get a room (to which Enciodes would protest that they had several, actually). Well, despite everything, they were still men, after all.

Degenbrecher, of course, didn’t care. She gave them a pinch if they were getting too indecent in public or too blatant with their flirting (what passed as flirting for them, anyway, which usually involved insulting each other in colorful ways), though to their credit they never did anything more than kiss chastely outside of closed doors. Same-sex relationships were only about as scandalous as interracial ones, and during her nine years in Kazimierz, once it had actually been something of a trend. She’d been approached by a plethora of people there, both male and female, and she’d soundly rejected all of them. The important thing was just that they never showed her anything she didn’t want to see (not that she had thought much about her limits in that area, but whatever).

And anyway, while they were busy doing each other, she had time to herself. Sometimes she would go out and treat herself to a nice manicure and horn buffing; after all, just because she kept her nails filed short and wore gloves most of the time didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy having them painted now and then. Degenbrecher kept her hair long out of preference, as in a fight, it would only be a hindrance, and she took pleasure in caring for it, the sensation of it running through her fingers soothing at the end of the day as she braided it for bed; so sometimes she’d stop at a salon, or even get a massage, even if the people there tended to squeak when they saw her scars. But depending on where they went, nobody had any idea who she was, and that was nice, too.

Sometimes she hung out in the swanky hotel lounge, having a drink and just enjoying the atmosphere; sometimes she went out around the surrounding block to savor the night air and in the breeze in her hair. The bustle of the city wasn’t so bad now that she wasn’t around it all the time, and after the sun went down, it was infinitely more peaceful. She grew to enjoy these little night walks, her thoughts unwinding at the end of the day, the solitude comfortable and relaxing.

She never went too far, of course, as she considered herself technically still on-duty. If anything happened, she was sure one of them would get in contact with her, but she nevertheless always remained no more than a few minutes’ run away from them. Sometimes when she came back she could still hear the faint, muffled sound of their voices through the wall, even.

(Once, she said to Gnosis, “Even in bed he doesn’t shut up, huh?”

“Never,” Gnosis answered without missing a beat or even looking annoyed about the question. “I have to make him.”)

Sometimes they’d go to a casino because Enciodes wanted to try his hand at blackjack or poker; Gnosis wasn’t a fan of games of chance and muttered something about being bad luck and would split for somewhere else. Enciodes would give her part of her paycheck in cash, and Degenbrecher would wander the floor for a bit while keeping her eye on him, trying her luck at whatever caught her eye and wishing vaguely she had Gnosis at her elbow to advise her (because Gnosis knew everything) when she didn’t know how most of these games worked other than the slot machines. But once, Gnosis joined her for a game of billiards, which he was surprisingly good at.

(Gnosis did know everything. It was in his name. Experience had taught her that she could pose him any question on almost any subject and he’d be able to tell her at least a tidbit about it. It was amazing.)

Depending on where they were, Enciodes would let Gnosis drive, particularly if the road was empty, which was always an experience. Gnosis had a tendency to take the speed limit as a mere suggestion and take corners way too sharply, though to his credit, he never went over the curb or anything—he had an incredibly precise control over the vehicle, but it was just… a little disconcerting. Enciodes wore the unworried look of someone long since accustomed to this, so Degenbrecher tried to follow his example, but even Enciodes’ tail would occasionally puff out.

Other times, they’d go to the theater or the opera or even the movies, as Enciodes liked it, and Gnosis would actually accompany him most of the time. Degenbrecher hadn’t really ever gone to these sorts of places, even in Kazimierz, so it was a bit of a novelty to her. She couldn’t say she had a high opinion of all the upper class people who attended some of these joints, but she knew that neither did her boys, for all that they had aristocratic backgrounds themselves.

(Bit weird that, that she was starting to think of them as “her boys”, but she wasn’t going to think too hard about it. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel a little affection towards them at this point. Maybe more than a little.)

Sometimes Enciodes went alone, so Degenbrecher would accompany him per her duty (once, she was mistaken for his date, and the two of them shared a laugh in private), while Gnosis went off on his own. He’d attend conventions or follow his own interests, usually of the scientific sort, often returning to the hotel with a box full of samples or documents or books. Once, they came in to find him at the table with a highlighter in hand, working through a stapled stack of papers with a distinctly annoyed air about him.

“Gnosis, it’s almost ten o’clock,” Enciodes said above the screeching of pen on paper.

“I’m not going to bed until I finish this. I won’t be able to sleep knowing that this blatantly incorrect essay is being passed about with nobody pointing out the errors. The author is wrong and they need to know they are wrong.”

Enciodes held up his hands in surrender. “As you wish, my dearest. Shall we have a nightcap while Gnosis is on his crusade, Degenbrecher?”

“Sure.”

So they went off to Degenbrecher’s room, something which would have made her wary if she didn’t already know that Enciodes was very gay and very (all but) married. It was comfortable and companionable, and Enciodes didn’t care that Degenbrecher put her feet up on the coffee table (it was a hotel, okay, it wasn’t the Silverash manor), and she had a good time just chatting with him. He was good company, and she was starting to think of him almost as… a friend, which was probably dangerous given their positions.

But… she didn’t think it wasn’t mutual. By now, she knew Enciodes well enough to mostly tell when he was genuinely relaxed and when he was wearing his default benevolent lord persona; when he truly smiled and when he was just being polite. And looking at him now, arm casually thrown over the back of the sofa, glass of brandy dangling from his fingers, eyes half-lidded and cheeks slightly warmed from the alcohol, it was obvious that he was at ease, and Degenbrecher knew he wouldn’t be at ease with just anyone.

“Ergo, the evolution of the themes in part two feels quite natural,” he was saying, “however, I find the neglect to so much as mention the plot thread from part one regarding the memento in the basement to be something of an oversight, given the emphasis placed on its sentimental value.”

Enciodes and his long-winded opinions on movies. “They’re probably going to touch on it in part three,” she said. “Didn’t the director say it was planned as a trilogy?”

“True, and each part of the trilogy ought to be able to stand on its own as well. What did you think of the ending?”

Until their glasses were empty, they discussed the movie, in far more detail than Degenbrecher would have expected, then Enciodes sighed contentedly and stood, bidding her a good night and thanking her for the chat.

“Nothing to thank me for,” she said. “It was nice. Good night.”

Enciodes hummed in acknowledgment, and Degenbrecher thought for a moment he was going to add something more—but the way he smiled at her seemed to say that he knew she didn’t have to do any of this. It wasn’t technically part of her job to keep him company, but she was doing it anyway, and he knew that.

He knew that their professional lines were blurring, but he didn’t mind, didn’t care, or didn’t see it as a problem. Degenbrecher found that thought to be oddly reassuring.

(Honestly, all things considered, she’d lucked out getting an eccentric rich gay man as her employer, hadn’t she.)

One memorable occasion, Gnosis said he was just going to stay in and she’d thought he was sick or something (a rare occurrence, because despite everything, the Kjerag people were tough), but when they came back and he joined them for dinner, she found out that he’d literally just slept the entire day, which explained why he looked so refreshed. Enciodes joked that it meant they could go all night, and for once instead of hitting him Gnosis said something along the lines of hoping Enciodes would be able to satisfy him.

“Darling, have I ever not satisfied you?”

“You’ve disappointed me before.”

“Not as a lover.”

“Your opinion of yourself is overinflated as usual.”

Sometimes a person just needed to sleep for twelve hours. Degenbrecher respected that. (Though it probably said a lot that they could only get that kind of deep rest away from home.)

Once, in Victoria, Enciodes had been the one to sleep the whole day. Degenbrecher rose first as usual, and was surprised to see Gnosis coming downstairs by his lonesome. Most of the time away from Kjerag, Enciodes was always the one up first, or they got up together.

“Enciodes okay?” she asked.

“Yes, sleeping.”

She’d watched, perched on a stool by one of the counters, as Gnosis had called the cook they often hired in Victoria and politely told her that there was no need to come today but he would compensate her for the lost time nonetheless, then tied an apron around his waist and began preparing breakfast himself.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” said Degenbrecher.

“Cooking is a necessary life skill,” Gnosis replied. “One cannot always count on someone else to do it.”

The second sentence seemed more significant. “Need help?”

“No, thank you.”

“Are you sure? I know how to peel a potato.”

“I’m sure,” he said.

It was a peculiar sight, the one of Gnosis working patiently with the ease of movement that came with experience and practice, with seemingly the same focus and efficiency he did everything with. But it was difficult to reconcile the idea of someone like Gnosis against such a domestic backdrop; someone so driven being so comfortable doing something totally mundane, even though logically she knew it wasn’t all that weird. No, the weirdest part was how relaxed he was in that setting. He seemed almost… serene.

Unbidden, he spoke. “One cannot always count on having money to pay someone to do these tasks, either.”

Degenbrecher looked up from her terminal, cup of coffee halfway to her mouth. Gnosis had his back to her, and his voice was about as cool as usual. Slowly, she set the cup down, uncertain if he expected or wanted an acknowledgment to this statement. It was Gnosis, though, so he hadn’t made it by accident or mistake. “Yeah?” she said. “Makes sense. I get what you mean.”

He was quiet for a long moment, and she started to think he wasn’t going to say anything else, but then: “When my family first came here, we were all but penniless. In Kjerag, we didn’t have the prestige of one of the founding families, but we enjoyed a certain amount of status. None of that meant anything beyond the mountains.”

Gnosis turned then to open a drawer and get something else, and his eyes flicked towards the stairs, as if confirming that Enciodes wasn’t coming down. As if this wasn’t something he wanted Enciodes to hear.

“We had to start over from nothing. We worked incredibly hard just to survive, myself included, even at that age. That’s why I have no patience for the subordinates in my department. They know nothing, they’ve experienced nothing, if that’s what they think hard work is.”

She thought about what Enciodes had said about Gnosis being blamed for the deaths of his parents; thought about the cultural gulf between Kjerag and the rest of the world; thought about the hateful words constantly slung his way; thought about the faint, silvery scars visible on his forearm of that time the window glass had cut him. She thought about how he’d treated it as just another minor hindrance to his work, and thought about his unflinching ruthlessness, and about the frigid shell of ice, layers and layers deep, which surrounded him. His hard nature was something brought on by experience, just as much as Enciodes’ crafty one.

And looking at his cold, proud, beautiful face, she had the sense that Gnosis was someone who had suffered far more than he let on.

Degenbrecher thought about the fact that they were both outcasts, rejects in some form or another, who had embraced that which made them different and turned it into their strength—yet that never changed the fact that the catalyst for that growth had been pain. And that pain, from time to time, those scars, from time to time, would twinge and ache.

She sort of wanted to pat his shoulder in solidarity, but it was Gnosis: he didn’t like being touched by anyone who wasn’t his partner.

But there had to be a reason why he’d seen fit to share this with her, out of the blue. It wasn’t just explaining why he knew how to cook or why he had demanding standards. He’d told her something he hadn’t even told Enciodes, something he’d wanted her specifically to know. This was… an attempt at bonding, or something, maybe.

Ah, screw it. “C’mere.”

Gnosis furrowed his brow and came over, and Degenbrecher patted his back. If he was that kind, the rough and tumble kind, she’d put him into a headlock and muss his hair (like he was a younger sibling she could affectionately bully), but that would be going too far. “You’ve had a time of it too, huh,” she said.

For once, Gnosis didn’t glare at her for having the audacity to touch him, but just allowed himself to be patted, and his shoulder to be squeezed. “You could say that,” he said quietly.

For a moment, he merely stood there, leaning ever so slightly into her hand where it rested on his shoulder; then he shook himself and got back to what he was doing. Degenbrecher sipped her coffee, and picked up where she’d been reading, and the peaceful sounds of Gnosis working filled the kitchen.

Enciodes didn’t appear until nearly one o’clock, looking uncharacteristically drowsy, but Degenbrecher would swear his eyes lit up when he saw the table. He wrapped his arms around Gnosis, hugging him tight and nuzzling into his neck.

“Let go of me, you big lug,” Gnosis said, patting his shoulder, “you saw me a few hours ago.”

Degenbrecher smiled to herself as she watched, reflecting that even these two could be quite sweet. And they truly trusted her to demonstrate such a thing in front of her.

The three of them had a quiet breakfast, Enciodes frowning when Gnosis pulled his cup of coffee out of his fingers but raising no protest. He ate most of the potato cakes with a clear relish, making it obvious that Gnosis had gone out of his way to make them just for him. (Kjeragandr, that was adorable.)

When they were done, Gnosis ruffled Enciodes’ hair in an uncommon display of gentleness and told him, “Go back to bed. There’s nothing you need to do today.”

He nodded, and looked her way. “Degenbrecher, go with Gnosis. No need for you to stay here if I’ll just be unconscious.”

“Sure.”

So Enciodes shuffled back up the stairs, and Gnosis let her help with the dishes.

She trailed him for the rest of the day about town as he ran errands, tending to this and that, and Gnosis didn’t complain about her shadowing him. It seemed he was at last well and truly comfortable with her presence, just as much as his partner.

--

Degenbrecher didn’t know if the reason they got up to mischief in Columbia was not just on account of their anonymity but because of the entirely different culture and set of laws, or because they had enough money to make any potential problems go away. They certainly never found themselves on the wrong side of the law, but Degenbrecher knew enough of the world to know that deep pockets went a long way to always staying on the right side of it.

(After all, there was also that one time that Enciodes asked her to help Gnosis break into a room and steal some papers back. When she’d voiced a question regarding the consequences of being caught, Enciodes had merely smiled at her and told her not to worry about it. She hadn’t been worried, more simply curious, and she wasn’t surprised either that Enciodes had already dealt with that possibility.)

Whatever the reason, though, she was along for the ride.

The crown jewel of their mischief had been an interesting one. She wouldn’t quite call it a heist, but it was close to it.

They weren’t technically going to be committing any crime, Enciodes was clear about that, though Degenbrecher didn’t really care too much about legal technicalities. As long as they didn’t get caught and didn’t get into trouble, that was good enough.

“We want some information,” Enciodes said. “Gnosis will do the technical part, while I create a distraction, and Degenbrecher, you’ll provide us a clean and quick getaway.”

“Information?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “What are you trying to do?”

“There’ve been some interesting people coming through this venue, and it would serve us very well to know who those people are.”

“Alright, then. What do you have in mind?”

It was fairly simple: there was some sort of event going on at the resort, and the three of them were set to sidle in as guests, do what they needed to do, and leave. Enciodes was confident that nothing would go amiss, and while she trusted him, Degenbrecher never believed in that completely until the whole thing was over. But if anyone could pull these things off, she was learning, it was the two of them.

They split a little ways before the building, Gnosis circling around to enter another way, while Enciodes and Degenbrecher came in through the front. It was an event like innumerable others they had been to, and she paid the fine details no heed. Her attention was divided between two things: the crowd for any potential danger or suspicious activity, and the smug figure of her boss, always within arm's reach. She could only guess at what he was planning, but no matter what it was, it was best to stay close, and anyway, her horns kept other people from getting too near him in the first place.

She estimated about forty-five minutes had gone by before Enciodes made his move, no doubt by some telepathic link with his partner.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gnosis’ distinct red and black hair flash in a doorway where Enciodes could not see it, and a moment later, on the other side, she heard the tinkle of breaking glass and Enciodes’ voice saying, “Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” a split second before chaos erupted.

In slow motion, she saw it all unfold: the tip of Enciodes’ cane catching on the corner of the overly–long tablecloth; every dish on the table rattling and jumping; the silver candlesticks tipping over. First went a dish of gravy; then went the candle flame; then went the tablecloth, igniting with a loud whoof, and a few seconds later, the crowd erupted into screams. And for all that Enciodes looked the apologetic part, she knew that twinkle in his eye.

Well, he was a Feline, after all; they loved to knock things over for the fun of it.

Degenbrecher didn’t think; she just acted. She darted her way through the panicking crowd towards the distinctly-not-panicking figure of her boss, slowly backing his way towards one of the windows. Just as she reached him, his fingers were undoing the latches, and his cane was flipping upwards in his hand, and the curtain rod overhead came loose, striking the carpet a foot behind her. She picked him up, throwing him over her shoulder as she kicked the window open and leapt out.

To his credit, Enciodes wasn’t especially fazed at being carried, even though he was actually taller than she was. He didn’t even blink, and kept his tail out of her line of sight, letting her navigate her way through the landscaping and the disorganized crowd in the street to the next block over, where she put him down on the stoop of a closed-up shop.

“Stay here,” she told him before pelting down the road, and his smirk told her no promises.

By the time she reentered the building, the sprinkler system had already gone off, and Gnosis was already at the rendezvous point on the second floor, looking at his watch. But all he said when she appeared was, “Right on time.”

“Come on,” she said, and picked him up the same way.

By contrast, Gnosis was not happy about it. “What—what do you think you’re doing?!” he gasped, though at least he had the sense not to squirm. “Put me down!”

“It’s faster this way.” She held tight to his waist and legs as she exited once more through the window. Gnosis clung to the back of her jacket as she ran, as quickly as she could without jostling him overly much.

Fortunately, his smug–faced partner was where she’d left him. Enciodes raised his eyebrows in amusement at the sight of Gnosis over Degenbrecher’s shoulder, then his eyes widened as she wrapped an arm around his middle and hoisted him over her other shoulder. “Degenbrecher, is this really—”

“Where to?” she asked.

Accepting his fate, he said, “The roof of our hotel—though you should probably not take us directly there like this.”

“I am never agreeing to this again,” Gnosis muttered.

Then he didn’t have the opportunity to say anything more, because Degenbrecher took off, nimbly weaving her way back towards the hotel and away from the chaos, before anyone could have a chance to even wonder who they were, much less where they’d gone, and whether they had anything to do with what was going on at the venue.

She set them both back on the ground in an alleyway not far away, and they straightened their clothing before strolling casually in the direction of their lodgings. Degenbrecher followed one step behind, and the three of them made a beeline through the hotel up to the rooftop.

The roof was empty: it had been set up as a sort of pavilion for events, but there was no one around as Degenbrecher closed the door behind herself, and only a tray bearing three drinks indicated anyone had been there at all. She scanned the layout, but there wasn’t anything amiss and nowhere for anything to hide, so she followed their example and took the remaining glass which was clearly meant for her.

“You got it?” Enciodes asked.

Gnosis snorted, flashing a thumb data drive from his pocket. “Child’s play.”

Enciodes grinned and clinked their glasses together. “Another success for us, then.”

Then they turned, and clinked their rims against Degenbrecher’s glass, to her surprise.

“And a thank you to you too, of course,” Enciodes smiled.

Degenbrecher was far too old to blush. “You’re welcome,” she said evenly, and decided to add a joke to keep this whole thing from getting too sappy. “Lucky I’ve been keeping you in shape and you’re not too heavy.”

The Feline chuckled. “I can’t say I was expecting you to do that, not that I’m complaining.”

“Efficient,” she shrugged, and Gnosis muffled his ‘hmph’ into his glass.

“Highly. Though perhaps next time could I request not over the shoulder?”

“Oh, you want a princess carry? No problem. I can probably handle both of you, too—just keep that thing from tangling in my legs.” She pointed at Enciodes’ long and fluffy tail, which swished happily behind his leg.

“Of course, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Once was enough for me, thank you,” Gnosis muttered, starting to wander off towards the chain-link fence around the perimeter of the roof.

“I think it was quite fun, actually,” Enciodes said, following him. They leaned their shoulders and heads together as they looked down over the edge, where a series of lights flashed by. “Oh, has the show already begun? Seems we’re just in time.”

She ignored whatever they were mumbling about and instead swept her gaze across the roof again and the door with a watchful eye, if only habitually. All was quiet. It was really a lovely evening, wasn’t it, despite all that earlier chaos: clear and breezy, faint pinpricks of stars glittering on the horizon where they were not drowned out by the city lights, but even those lights were softened by a slight fog, forming a gentle haze lingering near the ground and along the balconies of the buildings. Degenbrecher breathed deeply, savoring the wind tousling her bangs and allowing herself to relax just minutely.

A flicker of motion out of her periphery caught her attention, and she glanced towards it—only to snort in amusement.

Silhouetted against the flickering light from below, her bosses were dancing. Gnosis was wearing that indulgent smile that he always wore when he was humoring Enciodes, and Enciodes likewise wore that boyish, playful expression he always had when he was being mischievous, when he had abandoned his Mr. President persona and was just being himself. Degenbrecher didn’t know enough about dancing to tell if they were following a set of steps, but whatever it was, it was relaxed and fluid, Enciodes twirling and dipping Gnosis without any mistake. Just as easily, without any discernible shift, they changed roles, Gnosis leading and Enciodes following—then again, trading places in the blink of an eye with only a stolen kiss.

Briefly, she considered knocking their heads together, then decided to leave them to it and enjoy her cocktail. It was a very good cocktail, after all, and they weren’t in any danger for the moment. Let them have a few minutes to enjoy themselves, even if it the whole situation was inherently ridiculous.

Sometimes they could be two of the most insufferable people she’d ever met—but she couldn’t help but feel that she was pretty glad she’d met them, too. And for the foreseeable future, she was definitely going to stick with them. After all, what would they do without her?