The Three Ouellets

[The International]

The Elf of burnt sienna complexion looked down at his assistant and opened his arms in a quizzical gesture. It was rhetorical as he was mocking the foolish henchman. “Seriously?... Seriously!”

“Tye.” Ludivine said with a nod of greeting as she put her hands on her hips. “It's been too long.”

“Alright. Alright. Let me guess.” For an Aleraran, the bouncer simply referred to as Tye had a surprisingly clear trader's tongue. It was as if Common was his first language. “You've either come to kill me, or you've come to get some information that will end up killing me. Either way let me know who you're after and we'll decide based on whether or not I like the bastards your after.”

“Neither,” Ludivine said with a dry face and an even dryer tone. “You actually have the chance to save your country. You may even be hailed as a hero after today.”

“Oh really?” Tye looked at Maelle. “Does that earn me a date with you, pretty lady?”

“In your hasty retreat, you ended up emasculating yourself thus destroying any chance of getting together with me. Sorry. I can't help my hormones. But hey...” Maelle said as she shrugged her shoulders. “You may still have a chance with her. Although you may not be occupying the role of the man in that situation.”

“Hey.” Ludivine said mirroring her sister. “If I have an itch.”

”A contagious itch...” Tye mumbled.

Everyone reacted as if they themselves had been punched in the stomach. A look of sheer pain was only a facade for Maelle as she desperately wanted to burst out in laughter. Vespasian turned away and leaned towards Lillian, who was covering her mouth with one hand and her stomach with another. “This must not be her day.”

Ludivine stood there like a statue unfazed by the verbal potshot. “Oh now Tye, you know I'm a clean girl. Or else you'd still be experiencing a stinging sensation in your anal region every time you sit down.”

“Gi shu!” The black clad henchman said from the ground as he burst out in laughter with everyone else. “Il della dos, ilhar vith'rell.”

“Shut up!” Tye kicked his subordinate in the side, but it didn't keep him from continuing his laughter. “You know what? You just killed every chance of getting your information. This judging panel is biased anyways. What the Hell is this? A family reunion? You even have an anorexic version of yourself cheering you on. I've got nothing to say to you.”

“Then speak to me.” Vespasian said as he tended to his stomach. “I'll be candid with you. We just witnessed the theft of the Crown Jewels of Valsheress: the real ones. We need to know everything everyone else doesn't know about the Valinthe tribe.”

The bouncer's eyebrows shot for the skies in surprise. He looked back at Ludivine for confirmation and the assassin nodded. “They're not extinct. There's something that everyone else doesn't know.”

They stood there in silence as they waited for him to continue. His henchman attempted to stand and Vespasian put a foot on his back, pinning him down once more. “Keep going.”

“You know about the battle of Khu'Fein, where we sealed about ten thousand of them in the Anti Firmament, right?” Everyone nodded. The bouncer continued suddenly transforming from a wisecracking man of the streets to a well educated conspiracy theorist. “Well think about it. If you're going after ten thousand it's easy to miss, say a couple of hundred, women, children, elderly and injured, right? Some historians say that several hundred Valinthe escaped and scattered around the world. A couple of hundred might not seem like much, but it's all you need to maintain genetic diversity and avoid inbreeding. Everyone here knows about Thoracis Rakarth, right? Did you know that he was a Valinthe? Most say he was the last of them, but I personally don't believe that. Even if he was the last of them, there's so much more to a culture than just lineage and bloodlines. There are beliefs and ideals, and if someone was able to keep that alive, then there's going to be thoughts of revenge.”

“Why did the Dark Elves and the Dwarves deem it necessary to take such a great measure?” Lillian asked.

“This is my favorite part. What made the Valinthe different from other Human races is that every one of them was born with a supernatural ability that corresponded with their personality. Everyone knows that a personality is like a fingerprint. No two are the same, so that made them difficult as hell for anyone else to take down. Ten thousand of these guys would be a serious security threat to us today, much less back then when we were armed with the standard weapons. That's all I got, but I can get more before the day is over.” Tye turned to Ludivine. “Which flag are you rolling under?”

“Ouellet.” She said as she stuck her nose in the air.

“This here is beyond the petty mess we're into. If someone's trying to bring them back, that'll be everyone's asses. If something's going down, I'll make sure you know.” The bouncer began to smile. “Now let me go and do my job.”

Ludivine stepped aside as Vespasian stepped back. The bouncer and his assistant returned to their posts, although just about everyone they were denying access to made their way into the bar. It was now Vespasian's turn to work his connections, and luckily for them those connections weren't far away.

“On to El'inssring.” He said as he shoved his hand high into the air and took his rightful place at the front of the group. It was amazing how Ettermire's notorious underground seemed completely indistinguishable from the rest of the city. The Bottomless Pit's reputation preceded it, but at first glance it was just a normal establishment that seemed a little bit more popular than the others. The Villeneuves, or the Ouellets as Lillian knew them, knew better. El'inssring was to the Bottomless Pit as Vespasian was to Ludivine: luxurious, welcoming, and still retaining a small semblance of innocence. It was the place where the youngest spy of the family met most of his contacts, not just because this was where the majority of them spent their leisure time, but because he liked it too. Only the finest of drinks, food, and women. It was not a surprise when the three siblings saw two very familiar faces loitering in front of the establishment.

The Villeneuve parents were known to spend their free time here as well. They sat at a table for two at the patio outside the famous Inn.

“Well look who we have here. Isn't this a crazy coincidence?” Alix Villeneuve said as she leaned back and took a sip of some fine wine that matched her hair. Her hazel eyes still held a tint of contempt for her children for doing what they did to her. “How goes the investigation?”

“It's going very well.” Ludivine said, with the original confrontation still fresh in her mind. “In fact we've made major headway. We know more than we ever have thanks to Lillian here.”

“We have something a little bit more pressing on our hands.” Vespasian said as he pulled a couple of chairs from the other tables for the ladies to have a seat. Even in dire circumstances he was a gentleman. “I'm going to run inside, but I'll be right back.”

“Hello, Lillian. I'm Alix and this is Esme, as my son so politely introduced us. We are the lucky parents of the trio you have so wisely chosen as your company” She leaned in to her husband. “Did I give birth to a fourth child and not know it?”

“I'm sure you've noticed by now that Vespasian is the only sane one of our kids.” Before Lillian could sit down, Esme stood up and extended his hand in greeting. “He gets that from his father.”

[Ataraxis]

Esme’s hand held the same, kind warmth that did his eyes; they reminded her of Maelle’s in shape, but of a much deeper hue like dark caramel. In every other way, however, he seemed to have been the major contributor to many of Vespasian’s facial markers, his bone and muscle structure, even his height, but his most reminiscent characteristic was that playful corner smile, of a purity and innocence that had uncovered the delights of mischief. She was also amazed by how young he looked, seeming much more of a brother to the youngest of the Ouellets, though the thought of remarking this out loud brought a slight flush to her cheeks, as she knew his children would no doubt tease her for it. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” she started, respectfully bowing her head to both parents. As she righted herself, however, confusion crossed her face as clearly as a question mark. “Wait, what’s wrong with Maelle?”

The both of them snickered, though Alix had subtly punctuated her laughs with a vitriolic tint. “Good work, Maelle: she didn't figure you out yet,” she said with a voice like treacle, so overly sweet that it could make them shudder. Lifting a fine crystal flute to her lush lips, she sneaked Ludivine a charged glance that could be translated to a mocking ‘but you’re no surprise’.

“Nothing wrong at all,” Esme said as he sat back down, lightly tapping the marble table with his palms in childish emphasis; he hoped this would alleviate the rising tension between his wife and eldest daughter. He had no worry for the middle child, however, seeing that Ludivine had not even feigned interest in listening to this bout of small talk that doubled for a verbal exchange of daggers. “I hope they’ve not incommoded you too much, though. They can be very pushy… Lillian? Are you quite alright?”

“Oh, uhm, yes, sorry,” she apologized mechanically, having barely returned from a long daze. It was not that she had tuned out in the middle of this familial fisticuff, but rather that once the initial surprise of meeting the parents of the increasingly suspicious Ouellet children had faded, she realized something that should have been readily obvious to her from the very start. Esme… she had seen him before. It was not a chance meeting in some random crowd in a random city she had toured during her travels, but something recent, even excessively fresh in a memory that was already photographic.

His noble traits, his stalwart posture; that dark hair in a cut fit for a prince, and those even darker eyes. There was no mistake: he was the thief from the library of Eterrmire. What is more, from her height and ectomorphic build, Lillian would not be surprised if Alix had been his shrouded partner in crime. “I’m very sorry, but I’ll have to excuse myself for a moment,” she said contritely as she rose from the cherry seat she had only taken moments ago. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother while you take care of brief- uhm, catching up with each other.”

She bowed again, deeper this time before she made her way inside El’inssring, her boots padding along the alabaster terrace in muted clicks. Meeting her halfway inside was Vespasian, who had just parted ways with a wily and stunning young blonde in an elegant dress of red taffeta, who was clinging almost suggestively to her escort for the night, a fine but somewhat statuesque dark elf. Likely was she a past partner in whatever business the Ouellets dealt with in their everyday lives, who from the looks of it found satisfaction in more than the young man’s good results. As Vespasian stepped away from the lustrous bar after picking up a pewter platter laden with a variety of drinks – no doubt favorites of his sisters and his own, with a virgin strawberry cocktail for the librarian – Lillian rushed to him, the alarm in her eyes dipping his spirits for the space of an instant. “I thought you looked like you might like a strawberry drink.”

“No, I mean yes I do, I love… how can I look like I like strawberries?” she asked, eyebrows quirking inquisitively. “But no, that’s not what I came to tell you: Ves, it’s your father…”

“Did he offend you? Believe me, anything he says can be taken as innocently as it sounds. He really is just like that. I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

“No, Ves, listen to me!” Lillian cried out between a whisper and a shout, tightening her lilywhite fists in exasperation. “Your father, he’s the thief from Ankhas! I saw his face, and barring a shape-shifter that stole his face or an oddly coincidental illusion, there’s no mistaking it.” There was a question in his look, but he knew there was no need to ask. Yes, she was certain of it beyond the shadow of a doubt. “Oh, and… your mother very well might have been his partner.”

There was something akin to the flicking of a switch in his dark eyes, and rather than the bewilderment and betrayal that she had expected to see, there was a very familiar gleam: that of cold, hard calculations, and the emotionless weighing of both cause and repercussion. Finally, he spoke, his voice stern and resolved. “Let’s have a talk with my parents.”

[The International]

Self control was the main difference between Vespasian and his sisters. Because she faced so much deception with others Maelle couldn't help keeping her heart on her shoulder. Lucky for those around her, she was calm for the most part and it took something significant, like this, to push her over the edge. In this situation she would have approached her parents with a raised voice and tear-glazed eyes. Ludivine wouldn't have been any better. She often appeared completely devoid of emotion, but reality was the contrary. She simply expressed it in an unconventional way, sex and violence. Had Lillian approached her about their parents there would have been a fight outside. Vespasian wanted to scream at his mother and father. He wanted to punch them both in the face, but he had the control to do neither. Instead, after a moment of disbelief, Vespasian continued out the door and to the patio.

What Esme Villeneuve was just accused of doing was a transgression of a critical family rule, which was to never knowingly partake in any activity that could directly lead to the collapse of one of the five major powers of the known world. The reason the Villeneuve's had been able to operate for such a long time was not because they were able to fool everyone into thinking they were just a prominent merchant family, but because the major governments believed that they could trust them. At any time the King of Alerar could have a troop raid their ship, have them imprisoned, or just as easily killed, and he would have enough solid evidence to make a case against them for the major crimes they committed in the name of the state. But he didn't... Probably because he was so sheltered that he didn't even know about them, but if he did he still wouldn't because they lied, cheated, stole, and murdered in all the right places and all the right times to help him and the High Graf reestablish the nation. Esme could have destroyed all of that today.

Vespasian went outside to the patio and pulled a seat out for Lillian before he took his own and served the drinks; a sweet martini for Maelle, a hard double shot of vodka for Ludivine, a virgin strawberry cocktail for Lillian, and a high gravity white ale for himself. The eldest of the siblings divulged the day's wild happenings as she eyed her ruby red martini, and the parents were clearly disturbed. For the first time in his life Vespasian saw the perpetual sarcastic smirk that was his mother's face fade into a morbid frown as she glanced at his father, whose easygoing demeanor became increasingly anxious. Lillian mirrored that anxiety as she sat there between Vespasian and Esme. His parents' actions told him everything he needed to know, but he had to wait for his sister. If he could sense their discomfort then Maelle definitely could, and she would eventually address it.

Maelle's words faded away as Vespasian took a quick scan of the area. No one else was using the patio area. It was simply them and an area of wrought iron and wicker furniture. Pedestrian traffic was low but it was late afternoon so it would become heavier within the hour. A certain bartender opened the oak double door but didn't approach the table. Vespasian got up and greeted him with a handshake, and suddenly there was an ink stained napkin in his right hand.

"D'jal ghil a l' toha draeval lu' t'yin dos joros bauth nindolen lodias?” The bartender whispered with wide eyes of terror. “Nindol h'ros hass'l jalbol bwael. Tlu pholor dosst i'dol 'zil ulnin 'zil dos shlu'ta."

“F'sarn taudl, abbil. Folbol zhah aluin harl ves ulnin.” Vespasian whispered. He did his best to express his apologies in his tone. “Ka Usstan shlu'ta inbau dosst heru'nga ol orn tlu whol l' bwael d'lil Kruk. Usstan iglata.”

"Inbau ol 'zil feir tarthe dal ghil 'zil queelas 'zil dos shlu'ta, lu' Dorn shar'tleg natha naut'kyn sol ulu ol. Nindel's 'zil mzilt 'zil Usstan shlu'ta xun whol dos" The bartender disappeared behind the door as Vespasian opened the napkin and read its contents. Moments earlier when he went into the bar to order he wrote a series of words down on a napkin for this particular bartender. They read.

Ehtnilav
Egats
Tnemnrevog
Epyt

The bartender responded in kind.

Ehtnilav
Egats: decnavda
Tnemnrevog: elttil
Epyt: nwonknu

It took him a moment, but Vespasian read it as follows.

Valinthe
Stage: Advanced
Government: Little
Type: Unknown

The bartender, being a mid level government informant, knew that there was a plot to bring the Valinthe back. That plot was in its advanced stages. The government was doing little to prevent it, but that wasn't all bad. Some situations didn't call for massive armies. In fact massive armies could make a situation worse. Nevertheless whatever Alerar's government was doing about the situation, Vespasian's informant didn't know. The spy put the napkin in his pocket, but didn't take his seat again. Instead he reached for his beer and chugged it down as fast as his throat would allow him. Everyone took that as a sign. Vespasian spent his money on premium ale like this to enjoy it, not to inhale it.

“Way to go Ves.” Esme said as he patted his son on the stomach. “I didn't know you had it in you to down a beer like that. I knew Ludivine did, but she's rubbing off on you in a good way.”

Esme had taken the bait, which was uncharacteristic of him. He was so nervous about Maelle speaking of his theft of the Crown Jewels that he was desperate for a change of subject. Perhaps now Maelle would address their nervous behavior.

“Are you two okay?” Maelle said. Her first assumption was that they were in the interlude of a dangerous mission and they just forgot all the necessary signals and codes to ask for help. “Is there something we can do?”

“We could relieve our Father of the Crown Jewels.” Vespasian said as he stood behind his sisters, who were both blown back in their own little ways. Ludivine sat up in awareness. Maelle began to cover her mouth as she couldn't close it due to the anvil jaw. “Do you realize what those are for?”

“Vespasian, Maelle, Ludivine...” Esme said as he sat up. “Return to the ship now.”

A shadow appeared over Vespasian's eyes as he winced in genuine shock. Their parents never spoke to them like children, even when they were actually children. They were always too smart, too aware of their surroundings to be left in the dark about anything. That was why they so adamantly sought their parent's origin. Perhaps Esme thought this would be a way of keeping them at bay. Instead it insulted their intelligence and provoked them further.

“You're in on this too.” Maelle said as she crossed her arms and looked at Alix. That wasn't a question. It was a bold statement.

“Why? Because you read me?”

“Because I know you!” Maelle blurted out with tears filling up her eyes. She began to slowly rise from her chair. Esme and Alix did the same. “Or at least I thought I did.”

A moment passed like an hour as the two sides stood and stared, one waiting for the other to make a move. The air became thick with tension, and hot with anger. It was all broken by the sound of a chair screeching back and away from the scene. Lillian moved away from them with her strawberry cocktail pressed to her chest. This may have been the most awkward family moment she was witnessing, but what made it even worse was the fact that this wasn't even her family.

“Give us the Jewels.” Vespasian said with a calm intensity.

“You can't begin to understand what's going on here.” Alix said as she crossed her right arm over to her left side. Her middle daughter did the same. Ludivine was past words. She didn't know what to say, but she knew whose side she was on.

“You're about to bring chaos down on this country. Things have just gotten good for these people.” Two rivers of tears began to flow down Maelle's cheeks. “Why would you even accept a mission like this?”

“Like your mother said.” Esme put his hand behind his back. “You can't begin to understand. The scope of what's going on here is beyond you.”

“You've insulted our intelligence for the last time.” Vespasian drew his International Rapier. It sang a soprano note as it reflected the sun. So much for self control. “You must be looking for a fight.”

Suddenly a force launched Esme off his feet with a subsonic thud, and the battle was on. Alix and Ludivine both moved like lighting as their blades clashed with a deafening ring. Vespasian jumped on the table and followed Esme as he cannoned back to the red brick wall of El'inssring. The Villeneuve Patriarch contorted his body so his feet could land on the wall and he could spring off of it as if it were the ground itself to spear his son. Just in the nick of time Vespasian was able to dodge the charge by leaping from the table and landing behind his father as he turned and swung vertically. His blade met Esme's buckler, which he then used to push Vespasian back. Meanwhile Ludivine and Alix took their battle to the middle of the street, where they exchanged fast and elaborate attacks with duplicate Wakizashi blades.

“Lillian.” Maelle said, barely able to speak for her lips trembled terribly. She pressed her hand forward again as she walked around the table towards her father. The invisible force that she commanded caused Esme to stumble to the side, but he simply rolled back to his feet. “This is more than a family tiff. This is the survival of a nation that has only just now begun to stabilize.”

Translations
Bartender: "All of you here at the same time and then you ask about these people? This can't mean anything good. Be on your way as soon as you can."
Vespasian: “I'm sorry, friend. Something is going down very soon. If I can get your support it will be for the good of the State. I promise.”
Bartender: "Get it as far away from here as quickly as you can, and I'll turn a blind eye to it. That's as much as I can do for you"

[Ataraxis]

Lillian had watched the events unfold in complete astonishment, still holding onto her glass as if it were the only thing still grounding her to reality. She had gone through much in her life, but this was the very first time she had ever seen members of such an agreeable family deal with their tensions by resorting to out-and-out violence. Of course, the girl was no fool, and she understood perfectly well that Alerar’s survival being threatened was at the very least an attenuating circumstance. Yet, because of some deep-running scar in her heart, because of a weakness of mind she could not shake off, Lillian was unable to intervene. Even as her eyes trained from Ludivine, who brought her short blade down to flash and spark against her mother’s own, to the sight of Vespasian being pushed back from the terrace by his father’s buckler, she hoped and prayed that they would somehow be victorious without her help.

It was Maelle’s voice that brought her back from that faraway land of wishful thinking. To know it herself was one thing, but to hear the woman speak those words, eyes still swollen from her tears, was a waking slap in the face. Lillian vividly recalled her resolve at the library, recalled how willing she was to give up whatever was hers to sacrifice for the success of their endeavor. For this to happen, she had no choice but to enter the fray.

She looked to the streets, utterly vacant save for the clash between mother and daughter, just in time to see Ludivine tossed to the ground, her body bleeding from superficial gashes and small puncture wounds that riddled her body. Though Ludivine took after her mother in terms of skill, Alix had not entered this battle with the rage and overwhelming violence for which her daughter was notorious: she was efficient and methodical, having robbed the younger assassin of strength and vivacity with the surgical precision of each and every whittling strike. It was too late for her.

Vespasian and Maelle were not faring much better: while she had summoned some unknown, invisible force to wallop Esme to the side, the eldest daughter had not seen in time the swift arc of lightning that the man had subsequently sung into existence. The bolt struck her dead in the chest, to the alarm of both father and son: he had not meant to hit such a dangerous area. Esme watched in still terror as Maelle crumbled to the floor, too shocked to see Vespasian charge towards him with nothing but outrage. Alix, however, no longer hampered by her psychotic adversary, was already upon the young man.

The pommel of her wakizashi slammed against the back of his neck, but her aim had been slightly off, mostly due to the butt of the glass cup that struck her temple just then, and partly because a pink spray that smelled of strawberries had blinded her at the very same time. The woman stumbled back, wiping the beverage from her eyes and flaxen hair in confusion while anxiously patting the sore spot. Though the glass did not quite shatter on impact, it had slashed skin and left a bleeding trail. Bewildered as well, Esme looked to the left, only to see the librarian standing next to a decorative fern, her arm outstretched and her hand missing one virgin cocktail.

“This isn’t your business,” he said as quietly as he could, though there was no denying the rising anger he had tried to conceal – his beloved had been injured before his very eyes, after all. “Leave us be, Lillian. We’ve already had to hurt our children. Don’t force us hurt you too.”

“Every time,” she began, her gaze pleading. “Every time this happened in history, things could have been easier if people had just explained themselves. If only you would, this one time… then I might step aside.”

“We can’t let you hear it,” Esme replied with downcast eyes. When he finally looked up to meet hers, he readied his buckler and rapier. “I’m sorry.” Alix had now recovered, and she joined her husband’s side with her short blade drawn and her other hand on the scabbard. One last try at intimidation, Lillian guessed. She could not blame them, and to a certain extent, she appreciated their warped form of kindness. Still, she was not fazed: even after seeing the pair's rapid dismissal of their offspring, she knew that the three Ouellets had only lost so unequivocally due to the extent of their indignation.

Lillian could not afford to make the same mistake, and that was further made clear when the two lunged in a hurry to dispose of her. Having waited for them to make the first move, she simply crouched, picking up the fern by its fired clay pot and swinging it toward the oncoming charge. They broke away from one another to avoid it, realizing too late that they should have cleaved through or deflected it, considering its weight and size. Lillian had capitalized on the diversion to dash away and on their separation to engage Alix. The woman did not shy from the challenge, bringing her blade to bear as she bolted for the girl.

The challenge had been a feint. Instead of closing the distance, Lillian jumped back while swinging her arm in a downward arc for another throw. This time, however, there was no cup, no pot, only a deadly glass dirk that flew faster than the wind. Alix had barely any time to dodge the blade as she was already running, but she threw her weight to the left in the nick of time. Esme, however, had been caught unawares, finding himself in its direct trajectory. Smothering an oath, he hefted the buckler high and away, letting the dirk glance off rather than taking the brunt of its force, sensing that it might have otherwise punctured through the steel and into his arm.

And just as the dirk angled off his shield, Alix let loose a scream of pain. The cloth of her sleeve was sliced cleanly, and so was the pale skin underneath. Her blood trailed after the dagger, and it was then that they noticed a thin thread in its wake. They had been fooled by a threefold trick: Lillian had aimed so that Alix would step to the left, and with Esme wearing his buckler on the left arm, she knew his deflection would send the blade in the same direction, thus allowing the thread to slice into his wife. No matter if one, both, or none of them dodged the dirk, one was bound to bleed.

They had sorely underestimated the girl, and Esme could now see just why his children had allowed her to follow them beyond the sanctuary of Ankhas. This, however, only harried him to change his tactics. “Alix,” he whispered, but something ethereal now laced his words. As he spoke, a song came to life, reminiscent both of cavernous maws swallowing the wind, and of sacred fire born anew. Alix began to shine, her whole body exuding a halo of light that lasted the blink of an eye. When it faded, the woman dashed forward again, her footsteps soundless against the stone even as her speed doubled, invested as it was with the blessing of an Aglarlin song. Lillian cursed inaudibly as she backpedaled, but a screen of smoke burst right at her feet: she had not even seen her throw the pepper bomb. Before it could compromise her sight, Lillian tugged on the thread affixed to her dirk, letting it fly back into her palm. One ample sideways swing and a sorcerous wind was summoned, the crescent-shaped gust blowing away the obfuscating smoke. Much to her dismay, Alix was nowhere in sight.

A shadow from behind, and a chill shot across her spine. Lillian pivoted on one heel and raised her dirk high overhead, its edge meeting the downward path of Alix’ wakizashi. Her speed was not the only thing that Esme had empowered: the sheer force of the strike was enough for her knees to buckle, and one even struck harshly against the coarse ground. The assassin saw this and instantly pulled back, readying a thrust that would pierce her shoulder through and through.

As the blood rushed through her heart and head, Lillian felt the world slowing. The point of her opponent’s blade slid through stilled time, but the librarian still managed to draw her own weapon down, letting its broader flat rest against her right forearm. The short blade struck the glass dirk, pushing it away before it slid off to slash the girl’s arm. Lillian clamped her teeth as she threw her body back, letting the force of the blow carry her away while swinging one leg up with the added momentum. Whit a resounding thump, the tip of her boot struck the woman square in the ribcage.

Alas, with her body arched back, it was painfully easy to see Esme tower over her, his buckler raised and poised to strike. The steel swooped like a pendulum and struck flatly against her right cheek. She felt the bones in her neck pulled taut as her skull almost broke away from the spine. Blood threaded from her lips, and her shoulder struck the floor with a loud crack. She rolled a few feet away, her back hitting the wrought-iron bars that kept customers from climbing on or hopping off the terrace. Dizzied and struggling to rise, Lillian saw too late the stream of sparkling flames and the handful of pepper bombs that converged towards her.

Tongues of fire danced amidst a tower of smoke, shrouding the girl completely. Esme and Alix watched with both worry and relief, hoping that the girl had not died but content that they would not have to fight her any longer. Esme waited a moment for good measure before beginning a song to summon a small, localized downpour to douse the fire, but before he could finish the aria, he heard – and felt – a terrible rumbling, like thunder from below. The wall of smoke broke as pebbles and rocks flew outward like bullets. Esme sang in shrill surprise, raising a shield to protect them both from the hail of stones.

Lillian’s face broke out from the dispelled smoke like a ghostly apparition, the arctic blue of her eyes now ringed with a strange, sanguine red. Esme and Alix prepared themselves for another toss of her enchanted dagger, but the girl lunged instead, one fist drawn back in preparation for a simple punch. They almost felt like laughing until they heard the flagstones break beneath each of her steps, and pure alarm reigned in their eyes when she closed the distance as fast as Alix had before, while invested with her husband's song-magic. Esme sang as loud as he could, his voice carrying out through the city like a booming echo: the barrier he had previously summoned now shone like a sphere of golden fire, and it seemed to radiate like an earthbound sun when her fist collided against it with the force of a battering ram.

Lillian was thrown back by the ensuing explosion, feeling a great ring course deep into the bones of her arm. The barrier had broken into flaming shards, sending the couple flying back as well. They all recovered in time, avoiding a fall, and were now staring at one another across that distance in cold appraisal. Neither saw the girl as an innocent and unassuming teenager anymore. It felt wrong, but after what they saw, they could not help but think her a monster.

Groans came from three directions, and they snapped back to attention. Vespasian had recovered from the strike that would have knocked him out for a few more hours, had Alix' aim not been impaired. Ludivine was picking herself up from the streets, acerbically refusing any help from the few passersby that still roamed these streets. Maelle herself was drawing to her feet; she had one hand pressed shakily against her jolted heart, but she was very much alive.

“I kept them busy while you slept,” Lillian quipped lowly to the three returning Ouellets, her voice quavering as she tended to her charred knuckles. Now that they had all cooled off and that Lillian was committed to ending this feud, the odds were in their favor. With her blood-red eyes still riveted on their parents like those of a predator, she addressed them. “Are you ready to talk?”

[The International]

“Oh they aren't talking.” Ludivine said as she shoved off the assistance of a shocked passerby. The three children stood up at the same time with new resolve and cleared heads. Their parents brought them to temporary defeat because they were heated from the betrayal, but now they were focused. Esme and Alix didn't know their children as well as they thought they did, and they were going to prove that now. “I don't want them to talk. Do you, Maelle?”

“Not anymore,” Maelle said as an incandescent aura of tangerine hue radiated from her body. She wiggled her fingers frantically as she straightened up. Just beyond them translucent heat waves caused little ripples in the fabric of the universe. Tears no longer ran down her face. Her voice was back to its calm tone. She forced herself to keep her composure. It was the only way they were going to hold their own against their parents. “Did you think we wouldn't prepare ourselves for a day like this? Vespasian.”

“I only have one thing to say...” Vespasian said as he tended to the back of his head. The three children had been working separate from the parents quite a bit these past couple of years, and they had their fair share of confrontations. They learned to work as a trio away from the watchful eye of Esme and Alix, and now they realized they had to coordinate. “Maestro!”

Esme and Alix knew it was code for something, but they didn't know what. Maelle was building up her power, Vespasian and Ludivine were charging for them, but there had to be more to it than that. Esme's tenor voice echoed through the streets once more as Alix dug into her battle stance yet again. Maelle condensed her aura into two spheres of white light and launched them from the palm of her hands. Esme brought his buckler, which was now latched to his left forearm in front as a sapphire tower shield of pressurized water formed on top of it. Alix took refuge behind him as the two heated projectiles hit the tower shield with a snake's hiss and became nothing more than steam, but they knew better. More was on the way, so Esme was forced to occupy his song magic with this defensive measure.

Ludivine closed in as her mist began to emerge and grab at her body like the tentacles of a black nautilus. Alix launched another pepper bomb hoping that their ally would launch one of her daggers in Ludivine’s defense. The resulting explosion would spread its contents through the air, and Ludivine would run straight through it not only temporarily impairing her vision, but also irritating the several minor cuts and bruises she had taken on. To the matriarch’s dismay Lillian sent a strong gust of wind to veer the projectile off course. Her pepper bomb passed Ludivine and exploded as it hit the sidewalk near some onlookers. The group of Alerarans jumped back in shock. Ludivine made it to her mother, and her dark mist swallowed them both up just as quickly. Instead of there being a cacophony of clashing steel and grunting lady warriors, Ludivine leaped out of her mist for her father, who was then forced to defend himself from both his daughters.

Vespasian had done the same thing, going after his mother instead of his father. Once he got within striking distance of Alix he slowed from a charge to a confident strut looking down his nose at his own mother. Her eyes showed her contempt for the gesture as she swung her wakazishi overhead. Vespasian deflected it with an overhead strike of his forearm with such velocity that it blew Alix back a few steps. It was easy for even her to forget about the steel laden International Bracer hidden under Vespasian’s left sleeve. He followed up with a shoulder charge further isolating Alix from the protection of her husband.

The second round of the Villeneuve battle royal was a complete turnaround. Vespasian continued to overpower Alix with high-velocity counterattacks, balance bewildering parries, and long reaching swings. She often forgot that her son’s blade was more than just a regular rapier that was only capable of stabbing. She often got cut using defensive maneuvers that only worked against stabs. Ludivine was able to consistently outwit Esme’s reflexes, inflicting the same cuts and bruises her mother had just a few moments before. For every one strike Esme attempted, Ludivine was able to make two, and due to his particular circumstances he was only able to stand tall when he moved, while Ludivine was able to strike high and low. All the while Maelle kept sending a barrage of her concentrated aura at the matriarch forcing him to use his magic defensively. The trio, with the critical assistance of Lillian, was able to overpower and outnumber their parents.

Suddenly there came a deafening clap of thunder that brought it all to a halt. Four men and three women, all Human stood in the distance armed with the latest flintlock rifles. They were dressed in Coronian clothing, tunics, pants and boots, and their weapons were raised at the Villeneuve children. However, they were all standing. One name came to mind. The Three Ouellets cried it out in unison… "Lillian!"

[Ataraxis]

They had emerged from the crossway behind, sneaking along the guardrail of El’inssring without notice. Engaged as they were in their battle, the Ouellets had no time to notice a suspicious band of foreigners clad in sullen attires, and Lillian only afforded a glance over her shoulder when she heard the sound of a cocking flintlock. What she first saw was the silver tip of a firearm shining under the lamplight, then the man that was aiming it into the melee; but just as she had seen him, so had he seen her. Before the girl could alert the others, he adjusted his aim and pulled the trigger.

The roar of thunder boomed across a cloudless night. The ground shifted beneath her feet, or so she thought until the she saw the vast canvas of the sky stretch before her eyes like a silken veil over a dying sunset. Something hard struck the back of her skull, coarse and cold and smelling of industrial grime. Her vision jolted then, splitting and blurring from the raw shock to her head, but the real pain came from someplace else. There was ravenous fire burning in her chest, and an agony that radiated through her ribs like chain lightning. When she pressed a quavering hand over the sore point, she felt something warm and wet. “Did… I…”

Before she could finish, the siblings saw the light leave her eyes as they closed. Her body slumped and her hand dropped to the side, the inside of her palm stained with fresh blood. They screamed her name then, knowing full well that she could not hear them call. “Who in hell are you people?” Vespasian snarled as he turned to the seven humans, all of which were now aiming their own weapons at the three. Only one subtle sign from Esme had stayed their hands. “Why did you shoot her?”

His parents met the strangers halfway across the vacant road, hiding their own anger under frigid eyes. “Was that really necessary?” Alix asked, though it was clear from the authority of her tone that it was more of a reproach. “She was… harmless.”

“Doesn’t matter, does it?” answered one of the cloaked gunslingers. “She was going to alert these three stooges. Seemed like a good enough reason, you know, at the time,” he continued, referring to Esme’s previous request of sparing the three, which had saved them from being gunned down without a second thought. “Who’re they, anyway?”

“Just kids who wanted to pick a fight,” Alix said lowly, looking away from her children in dismissal.

Maelle scowled at that, but she said nothing. She was at Lillian’s side now, hands hovering above the dark wound in her chest in hesitation. Even after seeing that bloodied spot, she could not accept what she saw as truth: her face was so peaceful, it only looked as if she were sleeping. Seeing this, Ludivine grunted angrily and shoved her sister aside, steady hands clutching the neckline of the girl’s dress. She tore at the hem to get a clearer view of the damage done, hoping with all her might that the bullet had either been stopped by the sternum, glanced off her ribs or missed her vital organs by some miraculous stroke of luck. What she saw, however, was a darkening puncture above the left bosom, right where the heart would be. “Damn it.”

“What is that?” Maelle asked out of the blue, the uncharacteristic curiosity shocking even Ludivine’s sensibilities, as she felt this was a most inappropriate time to notice skin abnormalities of any sort. “No, I mean it. There’s… there’s something stuck in there.”

Upon hearing that, Ludivine hurriedly swung her head back, the dark locks of her hair whipping about in counterpoint. Her jades eyes scanned the wound again, and she could not believe she had missed something so obvious. “It’s barely bleeding… something must-”

The two cried out in terror as Lillian gasped awake like the living dead. The girl coughed madly, hacking a few drops of blood while she tightly gripped her chest, almost as if to stop it from exploding. Tears streamed out as she cried in agony. Vespasian rushed to see what was happening, but Maelle bade him to stop – the girl’s chest was partially bare, after all. The two sisters were baffled by this, but they helped nonetheless, removing the backpack that had broken her fall and supporting the girl’s back to relieve whatever pressure she was putting on her ribcage. “Lillian, you’re… you’re alive?” Maelle said, ending what had begun as an exclamation of joy and relief by a query of utter disbelief.

“Questionably,” the girl tried to quip, but the tears flowed out midway and she crumpled over like a leaf. “I th- ugh!” she groaned, kicking her legs in spasm by mistake, which only aggravated her state. She breathed deeply, hoping to calm her nerves. “I think... my ribs are broken…”

Ludivine hissed at that: “You’re lucky you don’t have a punctured heart, so suck it up.” Lillian immediately complied, too frightened to question whether that was relief or annoyance she was hearing in the assassin’s voice. “But… how?”

“I… when I fought your mother,” she whispered wanly, her words inaudible to the foreigners. “I was afraid she’d try to stab me in the heart, so…” Lillian paused, one shaking hand reaching for the wound. She tugged at the corners of the skin, wincing terribly, until she drew out a thick black net of webs. Caught within was the flattened bullet, which dropped with a ‘plink’ to the cobbles of the street. The moment it was removed, the sisters saw black mist seethe from the wound, and were wide-eyed as they watched the flesh begin to mend. “I weaved some webs under my skin and... and over my ribcage. Spread the impact... which explains the fractures.”

Just as her wits recovered, Lillian remembered what had caused her injury in the first place. She looked frantically from side to side, until she noticed the man that had shot her stare as if he had just seen the ghost of victims past. He drew his flintlock shakily, trying to aim; Lillian recoiled, bringing her arms up as a feeble form of defense. Yet, there had been no detonation. Alix had her hand on the man’s arm, which had been pushed aside to avoid any nervous misfire.

“Arrête”, the woman murmured in a language she had never heard before. “Tu ne vois pas que tu gaspilles tes balles?”

Seeing the man’s hesitance, Esme supported his wife by stepping in. “Ça ira, ces vauriens ne nous embêteront plus.”

Lillian wondered what they were saying, but the language itself was a greater mystery to her. One look at the three siblings, however, revealed something unforeseen. “Have you… heard this before?”

Translations
Alix: “Stop. Don’t you see you’re wasting your bullets?”
Esme: “It's alright, those brats won’t bother us anymore.”

[The International]

“Move.” Vespasian said as he shoved his sisters aside and knelt down to the wounded girl. Lillian immediately moved to cover up, which was a wise choice because he wasn't going to let that stop him from tending to her. He scooped one hand under her knees and the other went around to her right underarm. “We all need to get out of here.”

“But wait.” Lillian said. She was confused. They heard her question. “Do you-”

“Yes. Don't worry about it.” Vespasian whispered just before he stood straight up with Lillian in his hands. He smiled. “You must be twenty pounds of nothing in a ten pound package.”

All the while Maelle and Ludivine kept their eyes on Lillian, but their ears on their parents. The aggressive henchman with the firearm spoke again. "On a reçu la marchandise au coin de rue, mais on a entendu un fracas venant d'ici, alors on a pensé venir vous aider."

"Très bien.” Esme said. “On peut partir maintenant. Vous deux, amenez votre explorateur de mondes au palais. Et vous deux, allez chercher les sorciers à la place principale. Ceux qui restent, suivez-moi jusqu'à la cachette au sud de la ville. On fera nos préparations là-bas... et rangez ces satanés fusils avant qu'on ne se fasse pendre par les gendarmes!"

“We need to go.” Vespasian looked to the horizon. The stars were beginning to unveil themselves as the sun's final light began to retreat. It was almost time. “Lu, is your safe house close?”

“How close is close?” Ludivine mumbled. It was clear that the majority of her attention was still on the conversation. The Villeneuves often used a broken language as code to communicate with each other. As far as she knew it only consisted of twenty five words, but those words were now being used in what seemed to be a full blown language. She was able to make a few of them out. “It's about thirty minutes from here.”

“Too far. We need somewhere to go...” A great brass horn sounded off and echoed throughout the city. “Now. That's the shift signal for all the factories in town. It's officially rush hour.”

“Fine. Follow me.” Ludivine turned and made her way into the alley and the others followed suit. One of the foreign henchmen called attention to their retreat and offered to pursue, but Alix held him back with a mere command. “We just need to disappear for a short amount of time, right?”

Vespasian nodded. When he was certain they were out of hearing range, he looked over to Maelle. “What did you get from that talk. All I was able to get was 'two' and 'damn'. They were talking too fast for me.”

“I got 'palace'. Then 'main square', and... 'safe house'.” Maelle glanced back to make sure no one was following them into the brick valley. “Do you think they meant Mother's safe house on the south side?”

“I would say so, because 'south' is what I got in addition to 'sorcerer'... Wait.” Ludivine halted the party with a fist in the air. She backpedaled a little bit and took a quick look back at their parents. They split up into three groups, which confirmed her assumption. “They've split up. Probably heading to those three locations.”

“They did that on purpose. You guys know that, right?” Maelle said as she smiled with a tear stained face. “They knew we knew some of those words. They taught them to us, and they're not stupid. If they didn't want us to know what they were doing next we wouldn't have heard a thing.”

“So they were communicating to us?” Ludivine said as she crossed her arms. She looked back at Vespasian as they continued to walk. “What did you find out from your informant?”

“That the government knew about this, and they're doing little to deal with it. The exact details of their preventative measures are unknown.” Vespasian's eyes turned to the sky as a faint smile appeared on his face. “That's it. They are the preventative measure! The Alerarans planted them as a sleeper cell, and they're just waiting for the command to strike.”

“I - I hate to be the devil's advocate here.” Lillian said from the arms of Vespasian. She was so light he almost forgot she was there. “How long have you three known this code?”

Vespasian and Maelle turned to Ludivine. Her exploits in the spy trade began quite early when she unintentionally placed herself in the middle of one of her mother's assassination plots at the age of eight. Strange circumstances led Ludivine to witness Alix kill an Akashiman noble and two of his mistresses in cold blood thus making her the first of the Villeneuve children to know the family secret. It was that code language that brought her to that scene. “At least seventeen years now.”

“Therefore we have puzzle pieces that don't seem to fit.” Lillian said as she adjusted her left arm to ease some of her pain. Her mysterious spider-like magic was now beginning to do work mending her partially ripped dress. The crew emerged from the other side of the alley and merged with a massive current of pedestrians. She now had to speak over the hustle and bustle of rush hour. “You have this code that you've used for seventeen years, a full language that includes some of that code, a government sting operation... and has it occurred to anyone that they are speaking the language of the tribe?” She was careful not to speak the Valinthe name.

“Yea. It did.” Vespasian had a conflicted face. “That would mean the operation would have been in place for seventeen years at the least. You're right. These pieces don't really fit. Lu, where the Hell are we going?”

“Back there.” She pointed above the crowd they were engulfed in to a sign that said it all. The Bottomless Pit

Again.

Translations
Henchman: We got your dropped goods around the corner, but we heard some commotion so we thought we’d come to help.

Esme: Good. Let’s get out of here then. You two go get your plane walker near the palace, you two go get the sorcerers at the main square, the rest of us will return to my safe house at the south of town. We’ll be setting everything up there… And put those damn things away before you get us all hanged!

[Ataraxis]

“You guys are real assholes, you know that?”

Tye was less than ecstatic to see the siblings return to his establishment so soon. Not only had they not given his pride any time to recover from their previous encounter, but they had come like old friends seeking hospitality, any memory of the mortifying ordeal they put him through wiped clean from their doe eyes. That they came bearing one injured was, he liked to believe, the only reason he even deigned let them walk into his beloved home and meal-ticket. “This ain’t that busy a night, so you can take one of the VIP rooms… but I expect you to do whatever it is you need to do, pack up and vamoose, got it?”

“We won’t be long,” Vespasian answered in earnest, giving the bouncer no further consideration once permission to enter was given. He stepped over the doorsill and into a grungy barroom that catered to the usual throng of shady personages. Any measure of good lighting seem a luxury that the Bottomless Pit could not afford, but a single whiff of the environs was enough to persuade him that one could navigate this locale by foul smell alone. Maelle stepped in next, carrying Lillian’s backpack and the object she had kept securely wrapped in some fine cloth; her contempt for these shady venues was clear on her face, quite unlike Ludivine who sauntered in as if it were the throne room of a grand castle and she were its one and only queen. She waved a hand under Tye’s nose, then snapped her fingers thrice before he grudgingly slapped a brass key into it.

Lillian did her best not to look at the patrons, their hooting and whistling more than enough to paint a picture. Being carried in a man’s arms into one room of Alerar’s seediest underbelly was an understandably misleading image, but the sheer vulgarity of their comments and... suggestions was enough for her to momentarily forget her pain. Moreover, Vespasian’s refusal at letting her walk the rest of the way left her feeling quite helpless.

Grunts and groans came from the center of room, the only area with decent light fixtures available. There was a large iron cage there, and inside was a ring covered in powder and blood, some of it freshly sprayed from the bleeding face of an Aleraran prizefighter. Screams of both joy and discontent came from the surrounding audience in a barbaric choir as the caged men pummeled each other to bloody pulps. As was rapidly becoming the norm, only Ludivine seemed to take pleasure in this form of entertainment.

The screams and bloodshed were filtered out once Ludivine closed the door and locked it from the inside. Vespasian carefully set the librarian on the only bed available, although its sheer size made her look even smaller than she already was – most likely was it meant to welcome quite a few under its sheets, and definitely not children on a family outing. Maelle had opted to sit next to Lillian, in case the girl required any help, while Vespasian took a seat at one end of a divan with its stuffing spilling out. Ludivine soon joined him, sitting at the opposite end. One cursory look about the purported VIP room and he sighed: a sty by any other name would look and smell as dreadful, and here was the stinking proof.

“Before anything, Lillian…” he began gravely, leaning forward with his fingers knit. “I want you to know you can back out of this any time. We never meant to drag you into any of this.” Vespasian did not deign meet her gaze, clearly still troubled by the gunshot wound she had suffered moments ago.

“I have my own reasons for wanting to save Alerar, so I’m not going to run away,” she said with her own corner smile, trying to hide that she was still wincing from her fractures. She saw the look of protest on his face, but knew he would not go against her decision. “Thanks for the concern, though.”

After that, silence weighed heavy for what seemed an eternity, until Lillian tentatively broke the ice. “So… I gather you three aren’t the run-of-the-mill family?”

Vespasian grinned at that, his features somewhat softening from their previous gravity. After all they had been through today, that sort of light question was a most refreshing understatement. “No, I guess we aren’t, are we?”

“Code languages, reasonable paranoia, contacts in every social class, parents involved in a mission of vital importance to the nation… I’m sure you’re not typical government-workers, either.”

“Considering the circumstances, there’s really no point in hiding it,” Vespasian said in a tone that threw caution to the wind. “We’re spies.”

“I do all of the government’s diplomatic work,” Maelle continued.

“I do all of the government’s leg work,” Vespasian added.

“I do all of the government’s dirty work,” Ludivine concluded.

“That… that sounds about right,” Lillian said after a few speechless moments, blinking all the while. It had taken her by surprise that they trusted her enough to share such crucial information as easily as if they had been listing pet names and favourite colors.

“You’re hardly the standard-edition librarian yourself,” Maelle told her with a quirking eyebrow. “To think you took them both on at the same time… I don’t think I ever saw my parents panic like that.”

“But really… healing webs, enchanted daggers, sorcerous stealth and the strength of an ox? Just what are you? Heck, you took a bullet to the heart.”

“Ludi…” Vespasian chimed in, feeling that his sister might be flying off the handle again.

“Hey, hey.” She lifted a hand to stop him in his tracks. “I’m just asking to know where I can get myself some of that.”

“Well… I am curious about that,” he said after a moment's consideration. “If you have anything else you’ve held back, knowing it might be critical for whatever comes next.”

“Without going into otiose details, well…” She weighed her words, hoping to simplify the explanation as much as she could, truncating any extraneous information such as the nature and origins of her abilities. “Have you ever heard of… of wendigoes?” The three Ouellets visibly drew back at that, inching away from the girl as a reflex. “I guess you have. But rest assured, I don’t… I don’t eat people. Small samples of organic or certain metaphysical materials are enough for me to absorb a person’s powers.”

“Like... blood?” the middle child asked, intrigued. Lillian only nodded, almost shamefully. “Hey,” she began, a lewd smile spreading across her lips. “If you think about it… couldn’t it also work with– ”

“Ludi!” Maelle shouted in indignation, while Vespasian only looked away, uncomfortable.

“What?” Lillian asked innocently, feeling that she was left out of some inside joke. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Ludivine replied with a playful sigh. “But let’s just say that if I were you, I’d have another very good reason to do the things I already enjoy…”

“Moving on,” Vespasian cut in hurriedly. “Does this mean if we gave you some of our blood now, you’d be able to get our own powers?”

“Unfortunately, no. I need some time to process them, and I’ve learned from experience that in most circumstances, I can only deal with two at once, which I already am.”

“Then, do you have anything else under your sleeve?” Maelle asked, scooting over to the girl in genuine curiosity.

“Nothing… dependable,” Lillian said lowly, recalling the first power that had ever manifested in her. It was the direct corollary of her thirst for knowledge intermingling with her abilities: she could summon any random magical effect from a literal soup of incomplete knowledge on the arcane arts. The rub, however, was that it truly was random, and could be completely detrimental to her in the end. Most of the time, failure to cast this spell resulted in her being struck with a localized bolt of lightning. Needless to say that she only made marginal use of it, considering her utter lack of masochistic tendencies. “But I do have some knickknacks that might be of help!”

She groaned to a seated position, but Maelle stopped her from straining herself further, asking instead for what she needed. Lillian thanked her, pointing to the bag and cloth-wrapped object she had carried in. Rummaging through it, she produced a surprisingly large array of varied items, from the expected books and manuscripts to the unexpected collection of knives. What came out of the lot, however, were the black and white daggers she had used to ambush Tye and a pendant sporting a hefty chunk of green and spotted amber, which itself encapsulated a strange beetle with three horns.

“I had these daggers enchanted in Dheathain, at the Cearnaigh Criostal: the black one infects those with an affinity to light or otherwise ‘clean’ magic with a magical poison, while the white one does the opposite. When they’re put together, however…” She paused, snapping both daggers into one through hidden locks. The resulting dagger took on the clear-tinted blue of the prevalida from which it was forged. “The poison affects just about anyone. In any form, it causes from light-headedness to fainting, depending on the seriousness of the injury, and it can disrupt any magic the one wounded by it tries to cast. As for the pendant… it quadruples your strength for about five to ten minutes before it needs to recharge for half a day.”

Ludivine raised one hand, beating Vespasian to the punch. “I call all of those.”

Lillian smiled, noticing the half-concealed disappointment on his face. “I’ve still got something you might like, Ves. I carry it around even if its cumbersome and I rarely use it, since it’s important to me.” She picked the wrapped item from the bed, unfurling it before their eyes. Beneath the cover was a scintillating rapier of delyn, with fine silver inlays on the guard and hilt. One glance was enough to tell it was of masterwork quality.

“I like,” he said as Maelle relieved the librarian of the sword and handed it to him. The strength of its fine leather grip, the balance between blade and hilt, even the whistling as it cut through the air with a vacuum was marvelous. More importantly, the weight was about the same as his International Rapier, and he knew it would take little to no time to adapt. “I like a lot.”

Lillian rummaged through her bag again, turning it inside out for some other precious tool that she could lend the eldest sister. Maelle then stayed her hand, smiling kindly at the girl’s consideration. “It’s alright, I won’t need anything. Weapons and physical combat aren’t my forte.”

“I just wish there was something else I could do…” Lillian touched the healed wound on her chest through the fabric, and her eyes flashed: an idea had come to her. “And there is. Wait just a moment…”

:::::

“Good riddance,” Tye said to the siblings as they stepped into the streets after staying no more than an hour. He was perplexed to see the girl they had brought in so spry on her feet when she seemed close to dead before, but he knew not to ask questions no one would answer. He could find out through other channels, though he did not particularly care for it. As he waited at the front entrance, the bouncer leaned against the door’s frame, the old and chipped wood creaking under the bulk.

“Oh, this isn’t the last time you’ll see any of us, Tye.” Ludivine said in a mocking voice, spinning around her indexes a pair of oddly familiar daggers by the hole in their tang.

“To my everlasting disappointment, yeah. Now mosey on, will ya?” And so did the four comply, setting off into the smoke-smeared streets. “And good luck, you bastards.”

[The International]

“Alright, ladies, we’re headed to the safe house.” Vespasian said as he sheathed the newly acquired rapier. He decided to hang it off of his right side, while his International Rapier stayed on his left. That way if he found it necessary to use both blades, he could use his primary blade with his more coordinated right hand, and Lillian’s blade with his left.

“Hold on. What?” Maelle said with hands that made a halting gesture as they passed under the streetlamps. The shift rush was nearly over, and pedestrian traffic was lowering again. Now the streets were occupied by a sparse population of nightlife patrons. “Don’t you think we should be moving to intercept one of the other groups? If they’re moving on foot we can still stop them from making it to the safe house. That’ll stop the ritual altogether.”

“That wouldn’t be a bad idea.” Lillian said as she seemed to have to jog to keep up with Vespasian’s hasty strut. “We could avert a national crisis with such a preventative measure.”

“If we make our move now, we’ll compromise a certain couple’s cover.” He stopped under a blue streetlamp to take a look at the ladies. “I have a feeling Alerar wants all of these people in one place to get rid of them once and for all. Whatever’s happening at the safe house can’t be the main deal. If these people can bring back the entire tribe, they will. We need to see what’s going to be done about that, and we need to prepare to support that effort. Maelle, we need a glyph that reverses the polarity of magic, and we need several copies, large and small.”

“I need one night to compose it.” Maelle paused to think. “I’m probably going to need a few different versions just in case. Then it’ll probably take the first part of the day tomorrow to complete a few copies.”

“We’ll work with what we have when we need it.” Vespasian turned to Ludivine. “Keep in touch with Tye. See if he can mobilize some underground forces for us. We might need to use them. I have a feeling Alerar’s people are going to be ill prepared.”

“Most government yuppies are.” Ludivine said with a scowl. The other two siblings laughed and agreed, but they appreciated that fallacy. If the governing powers of the world weren’t so conventional in their tactics, people like the Villeneuves wouldn’t even be necessary. “So what are we doing right now?”

“Recon.” Vespasian said with a troubled face and a note of exasperation in his voice. The Villeneuve Transformation was on his mind. If they didn’t have to gather information immediately he would have certainly preferred to take advantage of the family secret. The three of them would look at one of their mother’s drawings, go to sleep, wake up the next day as completely different people, and even Lillian wouldn’t recognize them. That way they could hide in plain sight, but they had to get to the safe house now. “When we get there we need to stay out of sight and just watch, but one of us needs to be within earshot of our people… Or maybe two of us. Lillian and Ludivine, we’ll need you to get close.”

“This sounds like a steak out to me. I have an idea. Follow me.” Maelle took the lead as she adopted a jovial gait. “There’s a high society clubhouse about a block down from here. These are the people who are dropped off by bovine drawn carriages…”

“Maelle Ouellet, are you suggesting we steal a carriage?” Ludivine said as she crossed her arms. Her scowl turned into a rarely seen smile. It was still sinister, but there was a sense of pride there never before seen. “Now you’re beginning to think like me.”

Maelle chose to ignore the compliment as it doubled up as mockery. Within a few moments they were passing in front of a large white brick building adorned with colorful decorations. The establishment’s patrons were just as colorful as they stepped out of their oxen drawn carriages draped in dyed coats and ornate gowns. A line of ox drawn carriages was sauntering in front of the building. They would move along slowly until they were in front of the hostess, allow their aristocratic passengers to exit then move along. Alerar’s equine deficiency worked to their advantage at this point. Almost everyone used slow but steady bovine animals as transportation. They had a large variety of carriages to choose from, but they needed a coach – a large closed, two oxen drawn carriage with a roof that would cover even the driver if need be. They found their match near the front of the line.

Maelle signaled Ludivine to target the large black and gold vehicle, and the assassin did so. She moved next to the carriage as it sauntered along and got the driver’s attention. “Hey how do you drive this thing?” She asked without looking.

The driver glanced at her with a mix of bewilderment and offense. “Verbal commands…” He paused for a moment waiting for her to respond. When she didn’t he continued. The others quietly climbed into the empty coach and adjusted the drapes. “Get up means go, woah means stop, gee means turn to the right, and haw means turn to the left. Wha-“

The butt of Ludivine’s blade struck the back of the driver’s head before he could respond. His body fell limp and the two oxen began to veer in different directions. Ludivine quickly grabbed the reigns and commanded them to stop so she could discard the driver in the alley.

“Lu!” Maelle yelled with an angry face as she stuck her head out of the carriage. “You didn’t!”

“He’s just knocked out.” Ludivine hissed as she dragged the man on the ground by one arm. ”Pain in the ass.”

[Ataraxis]

Lillian drew back a fold of the window drapes as the whirs and clicks of the carriage slowed to a stop, catching through the window a first glimpse of the hideout. The picture she had constructed in the wildness of her imagination, that of a rickety old warehouse standing gritty and old on the outskirts of the city, infested with moss and rust and rats as all shady locales are wont to be, was quite a ways off-mark from the reality she now faced. In its stead was a three-story townhouse with mottled sienna walls like stucco and fired burgundy bricks that lined its doors, windows, rooftop and ridges.

Surrounding the rich estate were varieties of resplendent underbrush, from the flowering violets of spirea shrubs to the pale blues and purples of hydrangea bushes, all well-tended for and recently pruned. While it had none of the trappings of the customary criminal safe houses, its ostentatious nobility made it stand out from the industrial architecture of Alerar as a haven from sin. That made it much more successful a façade than what she had envisioned, all things considered.

Without a word, Lillian slipped from the carriage, crossing the street with nary a sound before her boots ground against the graveled entryway. As she did, Maelle and Vespasian waved her good luck before closing the door behind her, pulling the velvet drapes just enough to observe what would follow through an interstice. Ludivine had done the same from the coachman’s seat, effortlessly catching up with the smaller girl, but her own padded footwear doing little to soften the grinding of pebbles underfoot. They made their way to the bushes as slowly and silently as they could, peeking through any undraped window for a sign of the thieves.

Near the front door, they stumbled upon one such window, alerted by the flicker of candles from within. They approached, both wrapping themselves in tendrils of shadows until they seemed to melt into the darkness. A closer glance revealed that some of the same Coronian men and women in black cloaks they had encountered before were holding them still and aloft. None were speaking, and Lillian’s heart began to race. Had she been wrong? Was the ritual not unfolding in the fields of Khu’fein, but right here and right now?

Before she could reassess the situation, a sudden flash came from inside. The flames turned from golden orange to an eerie purple before flaring up. A wave of uncanny light flooded the night in that instant, the lambent rays fading under the starlight shortly after. Lillian and Ludivine had shielded their eyes in time, and when they peered through the window once more, they specifically noticed the apparition of two men who did not previously occupy the candlelit chambers.

One was clearly Esme, but the other was a slightly shorter man that he supported, hunched over not from age but from a protracted fatigue. His complexion was barely tan, but his dour expression was dark and ominous. The two seemed deep in conversation, but their whispers could reach neither of the stalkers in the dark. The pair, however, soon moved out of the room, and moments later a terse click could be heard from the entrance. They were leaving.

“Just feel fortunate you're free, Ilyat,” Lillian heard Esme speak from the front doors. “We've waited a long time for this chance.”

“But her... I not believe,” the stranger began in broken Common, his tone clearly distraught. He made his way down the stairs with effort, beseeming an old man that relied on Esme as a crutch. “I look at picture, and next morning I am still self. I not change. I was… not her love. Not even a friend to her.”

“But she's here now. She's worked all this time to free you. That has to count for something.”

“Perhaps. If things... if events... is 'events' right word? If events were different, she would be dead.”

Esme laughed heartily, hiding a growing concern behind the loud exaggeration. “Good thing you didn't kill her. She's been preserving your memory ever since the event. She's the reason you're back, Ilyat.”

The stranger pondered this, before answering with deep suspicion. “We… will see.”

The cloaked foreigners followed the two closely, the last of which locked the door to the estate and waved a hand in front of the gargoyle-head knocker. Its eyes glowed a faceted red before fading away, announcing the activation of any series of gruesome traps and security measures. There would be no way of entering without detection, now.

Turning to face Ludivine, Lillian removed the veil of shadows about her face. Without speaking, she slowly mouthed the words to her query, unsure of how to proceed. “What should we do now?”