The Four LeClairs

[The International]

The Four LeClairs

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Reserved for Ataraxis
Sequel to The Three Ouellets

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Esme Villeneuve ran his hand along the fuzzy stocks of the soybean plants as he passed them with a smile on his face. The air of the farmland just south of the research town of Nauplez was moist but nonetheless stale in the middle of the summer. It helped that the Kachuck Cataract, a massive waterfall that came from the azure mountains it was named after, provided a bit of a spray from the white wall of a torrent it had created. And somehow the winds managed to carry the sulfuric perfume of Ettermire’s industry all the way out here to tickle his nose. His son’s ability to romanticize this country seemed to be getting to him. He remembered a time when he couldn’t stand that aroma.

“Is this it?” Esme pushed aside the brown furry curtains of vegetation to see his first job as an exclusive Aleraran agent – a crime scene. Naturally they would have picked the Patriarch over the other Villeneuves to investigate, but the victim was of such special stock he was compelled to ask the Burgraf, “Are you sure this is the scene?”

“Yes.” The Burgraf nodded as he looked upon the remains that distorted so much of the orderly farmland. “We require an identification, a cause, and whereabouts concerning the rest of the subject.”

“How many of them have gone missing?” Esme said as he stepped into the crime scene. His eyes ran up the cold muted silver skeleton that had found its way almost halfway into the cratered ground. He ran his hand along the thick brown epidermis.

“Three have been reported missing so far.” The Aleraran Burgraf took off his top hat and put it to his vest in honor of the victim. His jade eyes rested on the alchemic inscriptions adorning the subject’s enchanted mahogany muscles. “This is the first time we have evidence of one. She fell straight from the sky as there are no angled marks.”

“Did you notice these, Bur. Alnor?” Esme said as he picked up a handful of grey rocks near the pieces of the victim’s body.

“I most certainly did, but I thought nothing of it.” Alnor tilted his head in contemplation as he stared into the Human detective’s hand. “I assumed they already lay here. Rocks are everywhere, are they not?”

“Oh, tisk tisk.” Esme shook his head as he smiled and stood. He tossed the chunk of cold hard rock at the noble, who barely managed to catch it. “You run a town full of the smartest minds in the world and you didn’t notice anything different about this rock?”

“They are the scientists, Sir. Villeneuve.” The noble clearly took offense as his the constipated contortion of his olive face indicated. “I am their ruler.”

“You might want to study up a bit. Don’t want your subjects to be smarter than you… Just sayin.” Esme let the silence sting the Burgraf for a few awkward seconds. Were he anyone else, say a true foreigner, the noble would not have tolerated such mockery, but he and every other member of the gentry in Alerar had been informed that if they seek the help of the Villeneuves, they would be subject to their unconventional tactics and their less than stellar behavior. The Patriarch of Alerar’s newest noble family finally spoke again. “These rocks aren’t from here. If they were you wouldn’t even be able to grow soy beans around here. These are minerals from the mountains.”

Esme pointed to the harsh Kachuck mountain range that cut into the sky with a thousand jagged knives. Something was strange about this situation. Esme now knew what was used to take the victim down, but how did it get here of all places? A rumble of thunder in the distance seemed to trigger his mind right on queue. “Burgraf, I have one more question.”

Alnor nodded.

“Was that above when this was discovered?” Esme turned to the south and pointed to the behemoth of a storm system in the distance. The flatlands of Alerar and its mostly subtropical climate made it ripe for serious thunderstorms during the summer season, but never had the Dark Elf nation, or Althanas for that matter, seen a phenomenon of the sky like this. This massive mutated cumulonimbus slowly rotated in the skies above Alerar slowly creeping from one corner of the country to the next, plaguing all in its path with tornadoes, heavy spheres of ice, lighting that fractured reality itself, and torrential rainfall that the land’s already delicate soil could not handle. This was not a hurricane that plagued Corone for a few weeks and was subject to predictable currents. This was something that deserved a new name altogether – supercell. With another nod the Burgraf confirmed Esme’s suspicions.

The supercell had dropped off the victim – an airship.

[The International]

“Why…” Ludivine lifted her head from the table with dreary bloodshot eyes as she laughed and cried at the same time. She looked at her noticeably more sober brother and sister from behind a shrine of empty shot glasses. “Why haven’t I learned my lesson after all these years? You two are asses.”

“A friendly game of ‘Never Have I Ever’ is a wonderful way for fellow covert operatives to dish about their most recent exploits.” Vespasian said as he gave Maelle a high five within the leaning tower of light that came in from the tower window. “Without giving out sensitive details about a mission of course.”

“You see we don’t really care about who you fucked to get the sensitive information.” Maelle adjusted her long ruffled dress as she fidgeted along the plush chair she was sitting in. “All we really care about is how you fucked them. I mean this as a compliment and nothing less. You are an artist with the sword, and with… the…”

A silence followed.

“The vagina!” Vespasian yelled humorously as he slammed his beer bottle on the table. His two sisters couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of their baby brother saying such a word. He decided to milk it. “The vagina. Maelle believes you’re an artist with the vagina, Ludivine, and she needs tips, she needs a guiding hand… or something… to become a better lover in the bed. Whose turn was it anyways?”

“Mine.” Ludivine said leaning back and crossing her arms in contemplation. After a long moment, “I got nothing.”

“What?” Vespasian stood up with his beer in hand and paced around the plush, earthen hotel room. “Are you saying there’s nothing you haven’t done? Because if that’s the case, then that would be quite conceited.”

“No. That’s not what I’m saying.” Ludivine allowed the other two to hang in suspense. “What I’m saying is you two don’t get out enough, or put out enough, or whatever you want to say. For people who do what we do, you two can be such prudes sometimes.”

“Hey hey hey!” Vespasian leaned forward in a semi tipsy attempt to look stern. “Let’s not get all malicious. If you aren’t going to take your turn, we’ll just hand it over to Maelle.”

“Okay. Umm… Alright this is really going to be challenging.” The eldest sibling’s hazel eyes set into the afternoon light. “Never have I ever done a reach around, while using my tongue to…”

Just then the door swung open to reveal Alix and Esme Villeneuve. They both made themselves quite at home making a bee line to the table in the middle of the room and commandeering some alcohol for themselves.

“Fourth floor of the most notable inn in town,” Esme said as he jammed the top of a beer bottle against the corner of the simple oaken table to force the top off. He sat in the cushioned chair that was still warm from Vespasian before. “And you thought we wouldn’t be able to find you?”

“Of course you’d find us.” Ludivine said. “We just figured you wouldn’t bother if it was so obvious.”

“Aw now that’s just heartbreaking.” Alix said as she helped herself to one of Maelle’s fruity pink mixed drinks and made her way to the sun in the window. “Esme, this was their little way of telling us that now that we’re land lovers no longer bound to a ship, they don’t want to have anything to do with us. That hurts.”

“And that wasn’t sarcastic at all.” Esme said in a sarcastic tone.

Maelle stepped in to mediate. “What Ludivine was saying…”

“Ludivine didn’t have to say anything, Maelle.” Alix said as she continued to look out the window. She took the time to pull the shoulder straps on her shirt down so that the chlorophyll in her emerald shoulders could catch the Ettermire sun. “No hard feelings. We were just giving you a hard time. We just need to ask a favor, and we’ll get out of our way.”

“We need you to get Lillian to do something for us.” Esme said. “But you can’t tell her that it’s a part of a case.”

“So you want us to work her?” Maelle sat up straight at the idea.

“Like an asset?” Vespasian narrowed his amber eyes at the concept.

“No.” Ludivine said without hesitation.

“Why not?” Alix’s face contorted as she put the pretty little glass down. “She’s the only person we know who can confirm some of our suspicions in a timely manner, and I know this is totally off subject but…” Alix turned to the watchtower of glasses in front of Ludivine. “Is there something you need to tell us about your drinking?”

Ludivine pointed at her two siblings. “I hate you both.” Then she turned to her mother. “No. And why can’t we just tell the Librarian what we’re doing? She has security clearance for most of the things we’ve done so far.”

“Because she’ll jump in head first,” Esme leaned back and took a swig of beer before he continued. “She has an enthusiasm to help others out that’s just a little on the unhealthy side, and I don’t want to put that girl in any more danger than we already have put her in. Maelle you know what I’m talking about.”

“Dad’s right.” Maelle stood up and started around the room in a ponderous pacing. “I’m not sure if it’s a lack of self worth, a need for companionship, or an extremely benign god complex, but she’ll jump into our case whether we want her to or not.”

“Then why don’t we just tell her to stay the Hell out of it?” Ludivine barely finished her sentence before she began to laugh along with the rest of the Villeneuves. She waited for them to finish before she continued. “Honestly, Dad, what you’re asking us to do is meant for an asset or a mark. Lillian Sesthal is neither of those things. She’s more like a colleague.”

“Really?” Vespasian crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at his sister. “That’s what you’re going to call her after hanging out with her almost every day for the past month and a half? A colleague?”

“Look at it this way.” Alix threw her hands up. “Keeping her unaware of the situation is for her own protection.”

“We need her to find articles of interest in the Ankhas archives on these key words. We don’t care how you get the information. Just get it. We have a chance to impress our new bosses, and we need that trust if we’re going to broker some kind of peace between Alerar and Beinost.” Esme plopped a thin folder on to the table in the middle of the room before he followed Alix out. Before the door closed he popped his head back in with a sly look on his face. “And if you want sex advice, don’t get it from your twenty five year old sister. Get it from a man who’s been rocking his wife’s world for seven thousand years.”

The door abruptly slammed shut as glasses broke against it.

[Ataraxis]

On either side of the setted streets, the brownstone buildings fanned out like the bellows of an accordion. The whole avenue would have seemed a single house caught between two mirrors, if not for that one rebellious door a maverick girl had painted blue.

Lillian had been waiting hands on knees at the top of the granite stoop, in the middle of humming a cheerful tune when she caught the siblings coming up the busy walkway. The seventeen-year-old sprang to her feet, vaulting down the steps to greet them in a flutter of raven hair and summer white. With Maelle, she shared a round of giggles and a sisterly hug, while Vespasian received a sure handshake along with that winsome smile of hers.

For Ludivine, however, she feigned an air of haughtiness and hostility that the vixen promptly met in kind; of course, it wasn’t long before the pretense fell through and they sauntered up the staircase, arms laced in reconciliation. In the end she urged them all in, that they may find shelter from the midday’s smog and sun. For that, the Villeneuves were passing grateful.

“Since you’re itching to ask, yes, I’ve carried out your father’s request,” she began as they entered the foyer. It was a cozy little one-storey unit with sleek hardwood floors, but the ceiling was high and there were very few partitions, giving the bright and earthy tones of her dwelling a fresh, open look. “If he’d given me something more specific to work with than a list of keywords, it wouldn’t have taken all of three days.

“Supercells, earthquakes, tidal waves, volcanic eruptions, craters, unexplained disappearances, mysterious sightings…” Lillian had been going through them like she would a grocery list, counting them on her fingers with a tired, reproachful tone. “Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to cross-reference all of that? Not to mention the caveats… oh yes, the caveats. Don’t focus on the readily apparent, but on connections subtle or unforeseen. Don’t limit yourself to Alerar and its mountains, but go through all available records from every charted continent. Don’t stop at recent events, but go back to the last seven thousand years – at the very least!”

“In that tone, and those words, what wouldn’t sound awful? But yea, we knew you could handle it,” Vespasian fawned in jest. Though last to enter, he’d been the first to sit, claiming the chenille sofa by the light and breeze of an open window. Not a second later, he helped himself to the carafe of chilled wine that had been resting on the cocktail table, left there ahead of time by their hostess to breathe and bloom.

“Anyone else at Ankhas would’ve taken weeks – maybe even months – and still might have failed.” Unlike Vespasian, Maelle had favored the corduroy club chair, cloaked from the clinging heat by a drafty sweep of shadows. Her eyes had rolled like amber quicksands when she tossed her little brother an exasperated smirk, but after taking over the shameless kowtowing, they were pools of class, tact and pure delight. “Add that to the fact that you don’t even work there, and it’s a true testament to your capabilities.”

“Good grief, should I get you three a room?” Ludivine was still on her feet, but the little rascal had already begun filching from a platter of plum biscuits. She’d been tapping her foot all the while, waiting for her brother to finish pouring their glasses. “Or… maybe you’d like me to join in.”

“Ugh! Don’t even joke about that, Lu.” There was nothing like these little family moments to make his soul retch, and it showed on his face as clear as indigestion. Maelle’s sour wince seemed to echo the sentiment exactly.

“Now, now, baby brother, don’t be rude. Our little librarian’s blossomed into a lovely young woman, you know? Having the hots for her might still be criminal, but denying it is just offensive.” She plopped next to him without a sound, leaning into his ear to whisper sweet horrors. “You said it first, remember? How she looked like a bite-sized version of me… but now that she’s a full meal, maybe you can finally work out that sister complex of yours.”

Vespasian pushed her away with an audible gag, abandoning his cadet to the throes of uproarious laughter. Only when the chill and gooseflesh began to fade did he chance a look up, meeting Lillian’s stare by happenstance. Beyond a shared color and a sinister streak, their eyes were like night and day: where the middle child had mischief and cynicism, the librarian held something sweet and wholesome, almost naive. Suddenly realizing her resemblance with Maelle had made him ill again, and so he let the thought crash and burn.

A meek shadow fell across her gaze, startling him. Was that horror he’d seen, or hurt? Alas, before he could speak a word, Maelle had taken them back on track. “Sorry Lil, those two are just impossible lately. We can move on if you want.”

“Oh, it’s all in good fun,” Lillian reassured her, chuckling. Yet she seemed to shy away after that, stroking the loose end of her fishtail braid in something of a nervous compulsion. Her hair was somewhat dry and frazzled, Maelle noticed then, and another cursory look brought to light the faint circles under her eyes, and a sense of weariness to the girl. Though they had laughed, the long hours and sleepless nights at Ankhas had taken no less of a toll on their friend.

That being said, Ludivine had been right: the mousy little teenager they’d met seven months past was now a woman grown. Even so exhausted, she seemed healthier, better-nourished: where once she’d been willowy, Lillian had turned slender, and while she always seemed to wear that selfsame summer dress, it had somehow traded in its innocent charm for an older appeal.

Suddenly self-aware, Lillian spun on her heels, making her way to the teak dining table where she’d left a fan of thick folders. “These contain all the information I’ve uncovered on the subject matter. The first day was a waste, but on the second I decided to visit a vault that all scholars shun by principle: Vault Thirty-Nine, the home of discredited theses and dissertations, alleged historical retellings since debunked as pure fiction, quack theories, paranoid conspiracies, and self-help books.”

“The horror,” Ludivine murmured ominously, big blue eyes as wide as saucers.

“Quite,” Lillian agreed with equal gravitas, handing each of them one of five dossiers. “But cutting to the chase, in here you’ll find the most relevant excerpts, circled in red for your convenience.”

[Ataraxis]

By the time the carafe ran dry and all biscuits had been munched, they’d only gone through a fifth of her ‘convenient highlights’. Lillian had gone and fetched a few cool pints of porter from her kitchen, as well as a fresh platter of sliced fruits and cheese snacks. After a long and grateful quaff of the beer, Maelle resumed her diligent reading, tracing along the paper with the tip of her index. “Year 2824 of the Coronari a Winyar Dacilea – so, around seven thousand two hundred years ago…”

We have led long lives. We have weighed honors and shames, joys and sorrows, passions and principles, all this over the sluggish course of millennia. Yet when the earth-mother roused awake that dreadful night, we learned more of life and death from the hour of her wrath than myriad lifetimes could ever hope to teach us.

I saw the city crumble, saw the ruins of our beloved homes bear down on us like toy blocks on a row of ants. Such a wretched, cruel thing it was, to witness the pride of our forebears so mercilessly crush the bones of our children. I saw horrible wounds open up beneath our feet, bleeding dust and death. Fathers and mothers, swallowed in the gaping chasms. Brothers, sisters, naught but red splashes on the streets where they once played… and in the faces of old friends, only the madness of doomsayers. Cries of 'Ambar Metta' and 'Angavanda' had reached as far as the Port of Etheria, in prayers and curses, as the land and sky and sea raged against all life.

Yet the world did not end, nor did demons break free from the chains of the Iron Hell… for we still stood when darkness turned to light, and our claim to these star-kissed lands remain as yet unchallenged. Hollow victories, in the face of such destruction. Our forces at sea are no more, wrecked upon reefs or claimed by the dwellers of the Deep. Ettermire lies a broken shadow, and what few homes survived the quake have no family to welcome. Too many dead, innumerable lost. And now, we fear. If not the end… what then?

“All of which seems to concord with the seismic catalogues and weather logs you pulled from the records vault,” Vespasian noted, brows pinched in concentration as he scanned through the files. “Impressive, Lil… you’ve crosschecked almost all of the witness accounts: documents from the constabulary confirming over seventy reports of entire herds vanishing without a trace; damage estimates pertaining to thousands of forest acres found hollowed out; carbon prints of the tremors from the Twilight Peaks, the Mountains of Kachuk and L’Renor Harlilen, recorded on the first prototypal seismograph; massive anvil clouds, storm surge sightings on the western coast, et cetera, et cetera…”

“Ves, I’m pretty damn sure it’s not the facts that got these sources stuck in Vault Three-Nine,” Ludivine cut in, putting her wine glass down to prop her chin on the heel of a palm. “Listen to this: ‘Took my daughters they did, and you’re asking me about sheeps and cows? Vith dos theralen! Vith natha szithrel al'vuren! What? Who’s ‘they’? They's the Angaraucar – the Angaraucar, xsa ol! Those Devils in Irons took crying, suckling babes right off their mother’s swollen teats! Wretches tall as towers, made from the earth-mother’s shit like men from clay and dwarves from stone and us from stardust: I could smell it on them, brown iron and all, like a ditch of cloying blood and pig manure!’ I mean really, how much more colorful can a fella get? Oh, and Lil... not translating any of the cussing? Adorable.”

When Ludivine was done snickering at the girl’s expense, she resumed her reading, this time only focusing on the highlights. “It goes on with talk of giants straddling clouds like we do donkeys and bulls, formless shadows that seep into everything like piss does soil, more shadows that turn day to night, casting over their lands a darkness that spans a thousand thousand cities – poetic enough, for country hicks. Then there’s mention of dread worms that savage the land, of a million riders upon the horse-mountain’s back, locusts in sheep’s garb, fell-frogs that feed on wolves… charming.”

“My favorite findings are the anomalies,” Lillian said with a beam, hands clasped in genuine enthusiasm. “It’s fascinating, really: barnacled ships found hundreds of miles inland, craters without meteoric debris, even entire Aleraran buildings discovered at sea! They also mention finding fragments of star-metal, hell-iron, stone-chains, and ah… devil… stuff?”

“She means giant chunks of rock-hard shit,” Ludivine clarified to her siblings, quite unnecessarily. With a helpful grin, she nodded back to Lillian. “M’lady.”

“...As for craters and other irregularities in the mountains,” the librarian continued, smiling back meekly as she rubbed her hands in nervous embarrassment. “I didn’t find any strange reports, but there is that story of a mountain in Kachuk that grew from a giant’s seed overnight, or that other one of an entire range that sprouted feet and tiptoed one mile to the left. You’ll also find equally ridiculous accounts from Salvar and Raiaera, a few from Corone… and that’s about it.”

“As long as dad avoids lingering on the more ludicrous parts, he should have a solid case… anyway, he’ll be more than satisfied with your research.” Vespasian had flipped through the rest of the dossier for an estimate, and he might have thought the thing a novella, if not for the thick, almost angry underlining and circling he found throughout. “Thanks, Lily. As always, you’re a life-saver.”

She seemed to light up at that, with an ineffable quality in her gentle smile and laughing eyes that could belong to no one else. “You’re welcome.”

“Well,” Maelle began, rising to her feet. She closed the folder after a moment’s consideration, and her face seemed contrite as she addressed their host. “Considering this natural stopping point… would you mind if I- ”

“Hey, if you’ve got business in the restroom, bring the whole thing with you, sis,” Ludivine cut her short, all fangs as she grinned from ear to ear.

“LU!” Maelle screamed, turning red as a beet. “How can you be so vulgar today? You’re not even drunk!”

“But I’m halfway there,” she said in a singsong voice, before upending the last dregs of her third beer stein. She knocked at her chest with a balled fist, then let loose a tremulous roar she thought magnificent. “Aah. Knowing you and all, Mae, I should probably go first.”

Maelle looked daggers at her sister, the amber in her eyes sweltering to vicious sparks. She spun away and left in a huff, making a point by leaving the dossier behind.

She found the restroom on the right of a narrow corridor, opposite Lillian’s bedroom. In her hurry, the elder Villeneuve almost missed the fact that the girl’s door had been left slightly ajar, when every single time they’d visited before, it had systematically been locked shut. Maelle had never taken offense: it was natural to mark boundaries, especially when your most frequent guests were spies.

Yet today, so spent by her mission at Ankhas, Lillian had finally forgotten something in her life – quite a feat, considering her eidetic memory. Smiling, she went for a peek inside, expecting the typical paraphernalia that timid girls her age were wont to hide from their older friends. Oddly enough, she saw none of the frills, none of the pinks, none of porcelain dolls or sock monkeys she had hoped to find. Instead, she found a simple desk, a normal bed, a nondescript chair, and the expected bevy of bookshelves. Nothing there had cause to mortify… and that was what made her uneasy.

Unlike the warm and welcoming atmosphere of her guest area, her private chambers were cold, neutral, almost amniotic. Where was the blue she so loved? Where were the picture frames, the paintings, the baubles and the knickknacks? In all this, where was Lillian?

Maelle gasped when she realized she’d backed into the corridor’s end. A hollow boom came from behind the wall, almost echoing... and she realized then that their friend had secrets of her own.

It was strange: the librarian knew more about the spies than most governments were privy to, yet they knew next to nothing about her. What surprised her most was how she’d never worried about it until now.

“Maybe after dad’s done with his assignment...” Suddenly hesitant, she left the thought unfinished, and closed the restroom door behind her.

[The International]

Valshath d’Isto, the House Valsheress Built, the Dark Palace. The place of Alerar’s throne had many names, but no appellations Esme had ever heard spoke to its beauty. Perhaps none of those appellations came from a native of this land. The walls were adorned with ruby red, sapphire blue, and onyx oblivion. The seemingly endless corridors with their vaulted ceilings carried the echoes of boots and heels striking the dark clouded marble floors. The tall windows with their sharp peaks made playful shapes of the afternoon light that had been softened by the smog of the industrial city of Ettermire outside. The sudden urge for a sweet pastry compelled Esme as the perfectly paired scents of belladonna and cinnamon were carried along a constant but nearly undetectable breeze that was no doubt created by a state of the art ventilation system.

He trudged down the hallway of the second floor of the Dark Palace, the only Human in sight, with an air of disappointment surrounding him. He slowed down as he heard a pair of boots catching up with him.

“My apologies for the committee’s rejection of your proposal. Their faith in you is lacking.” High Graf Shynius spoke beside him in proper Aleraran without looking. His deep voice was not as apologetic as Esme would have liked, but in the few instances that he had spoken to Alerars most powerful nobleman, apologies didn’t seem to be in his nature. There was always a caveat to follow such statements, and this was no exception. “My faith is lacking as well, however, I see the financial risk worth taking. We have already lost several of our airboats, our most hopeful prototype among them.”

Silence followed as Esme’s face slowly shifted to a smile like molasses flowing upward. He decided to meet Schynius’ Aleraran in kind. “The Lotus?”

“Hold your fucking tongue.” The High Graf hissed through ivory teeth that contrasted with ebony skin as he watched his newest covert operative chuckle under his breath and look him straight in the eye. He couldn’t help but curve his full lips into a grin. The spy’s humor was contagious, and his audacity was… admirable. “You laugh? I find it to be no less than a miracle that in your twenty six years of clandestine operations that you have lived to this day with that mouth of yours.”

“Oh you know I can keep a secret, Your Grace.” They started down a flight of granite stairs that towered higher than most keeps in Althanas. It was so high that Esme was compelled to hold onto the wrought iron railing as he waved at his family in the distance, who had just entered through the towering double doors of the Palace.

“Indeed I do, but what of this family that you have sired into being?” His sapphire long coat rippled as he raised a hand to the pale herd of Humans in the distance. He addressed the woman with rose red locks and emerald green shoulders as he threw his voice across the vast atrium. “Salutations, Matriarch.”

“Your Grace.” Alix curtsied with a long bronze dress in hand, and mirrored the formal smile the High Graf gave her. She knew that behind that masquerade was a draconian noble as calculating as the Elder Thayne Khal’jeren himself. Such a thought made her smile genuine for she was in like minded company.

“I trust that you have found your land legs?” Schynius said as he reciprocated her formal greeting with a faint bow.

“It’s the fact that I have a legitimate piece of land that scares me more.” Everyone put on a laugh severely lacking in sincerity. “I do have to thank you for giving me property outside of the city where the sun is stronger.”

The High Graf glanced at the skin of Alix’s shoulders, which were as green as the leaves of the rowan tree she was now bound to. The ambiguous expression on his face managed to hide the thoughts of her condition. Perhaps he felt sorry for her for what the rogue Raiaeran Ranger Kilick had done to her. More likely he was grateful that such horrid events led the family to pledge exclusive services to Alerar.

“And the Villeneuve children. May you find prosperity in the land of discovery.” Schynius stepped towards them and greeted them in order of seniority, Maelle, Ludivine, and then Vespasian. “The Royal Firm bids you good tidings, and it is good that you are all present. As you may have expected, the committee of Grafs assigned to meet this predicament has rejected your Patriarch’s proposal. The claims are fanciful beyond belief.”

“Your Grace, if I may…” Maelle curtsied again with her all-charming smile at full shine. Her hazel eyes met the Graf’s onyx eyes with a jovial twinkle. “Have they found another explanation for the supercell?”

“Anomaly of the winds. The present summer is hot and humid beyond character. Combine such circumstances with a land that gives way to the clouds like whore that gives way to a patron at El’inssring, and this is what comes about.” He rubbed the well groomed stubble along his strong jaw line. “But my sense beyond senses speaks to me in conflict. Given the evidence you presented of the Ambar Matta and the legends of Valinthe tribe long past, it implores a serious consideration of me. My hands, however, are tied.”

“Your hands would also be tied if a simple transportation airship were to veer off course and into the supercell.” Vespasian said with a sly grin befitting that of a fox. “It would also be mere coincidence if some of us just so happened to be on that ship.”

“Make wise use of your Non-Official Cover, Villeneuves.” Schynius threw the youngest Villeneuve a cautionary glance.

“We are fully aware of the consequences if we fail, or find ourselves apprehended.” Esme gave a reassuring nod as he and his family bowed thus announcing their leave. “We’ll be incarcerated.”

“Correction - you will die as vigilantes with a cockamamie theory.” Shynius said with high eyebrows as he bowed bidding them goodbye. “Succeed and you will be heroes among most of the influential parties of Ettermire.” The warning was unexpectedly met with shrugging shoulders and nodding heads as they bid the High Graf goodbye. “You make jest of this?”

“It’s our way of coping with the constant threat of death, Your Grace.” Maelle hung behind to explain.

“Your sister.” He said in a hushed tone. “Does she lack a tongue to speak with?”

“Ludivine? Oh no. She just lacks a proper one and knows when to hold it… Most of the time.” Maelle was the last to leave the ventilated luxury of the Dark Palace. Much to her disappointment Alerar’s climate smacked her in the face with heat and humidity. As much as she enjoyed the wonders of this nation and its people, she absolutely abhorred the weather anomaly that was this inland hotbox. The heat forced her body to compensate in the ever so hideous act of perspiration, which made her light fabric dress stick to her skin like an adhesive, and the humidity made the function of sweat, which was to cool the body down, completely useless. To add insult to injury her younger sister and her mother, both of whom decided to go strapless today, looked reasonably attractive as their shoulders and collars glistened. This, coupled with the aura of defeat, gave her reason to exit the Palace with a noticeable slump as she fanned herself. “So what do we do now?”

“Seems like a no brainer to me.” Vespasian said as he shrugged his shoulders and glanced up at the steel and stone tower across the busy street from the Palace. “We move on to the next job. There are other ways to gain the country’s trust, right?” He looked at his mother and father, who dared not look at him with those mischievous smirks they had on their faces. Instead their eyes wondered to the Dark Elves hustling about or the rainbow tapestry of hot air balloons floating about in the city’s smoggy canopy. He knew what this meant as he rubbed his temples. “By the Six Bodies of Thayne, you have got to be kidding me! What else are we supposed to do? I can’t see any other options that the one I presented in there with Schynius.”

“Oh, have a little sense of adventure will you?” Alix said as she crossed her arms and stuck her nose up in the air.

“Besides, the High Graf basically begged us to take matters into our own hands.” Esme scratched his nose at the light but ticklish scent of sulfur that whipped around the sharp corners of the towers. “You heard him. His hands are tied.”

“I could have sworn he said we’d die as vigilantes with a cockamamie theory.” Maelle said as she moved ahead of them and crossed the busy street filled with slow bovine drawn carriages. “It came straight from the ox’s mouth.”

“I thought with your superb interpersonal skills that you’d be able to read between the lines like we did. It was insinuated. Just like those many times I gave you coinage for a family dinner and I apparently insinuated that you could purchase a dress with it instead.” Alix twisted her body as she held her bronze dress to squeeze between two carriages. “And yes, I went there.”

“Mother, you can’t keep saying you ‘went there’ when you tend to ‘go there’ all the time.” Ludivine said with a snarl as she adjusted her corset.

“We need to remember what we’re here for.” Alix said as she stepped onto the curb of the walkway. She waited until the last of her pride made it across the street before she led them down a row of pump houses making their way ever closer to the grey tower that almost matched the Dark Palace in height. “We need to gain enough influence to secure the safety of Beiost, the city that saved me.”

“This isn’t good” Vespasian said as he rubbed his temple with one hand and tapped the cat’s head pommel of his sword with another. “We’re doing this on the fly, and you were the ones who taught us that our greatest weapons were calculation and planning.”

“Check and check.” Esme pointed at two imaginary checkboxes in the air as they approached the massive grey stone arch of Ettermire Grand Station. He didn’t attempt to speak over the deafening whistle of the train combined with the wind symphony that was the city’s factory sounds and shift horns. Drow children in vests and bonnet hats hung on the edges of the ornate rail cars hitching a ride from one side of the city to another before the train picked up speed for its ultimate destination across the country. “We calculated that the emergency committee would say no to our request, and we planned on having the three of you do what you’re about to do now.”

“But these are massive flights with civilians aboard.” Almost as if to hear Maelle’s plea, an airship made its presence known. Its horn and the train’s horn were surely made at the same factory for they sounded exactly the same. The wooden juggernaut of the skies floated hundreds of feet directly above their heads and beyond the smog ceiling of the city. Its nautical silhouette sparked nostalgia for their old home, the three-mast sloop, The International. “We’re asses, I know, but we’ve never put civilians in danger.”

“Maelle…” Alix grabbed her eldest daughter’s shoulders. “You’re infinitely charming, your little sister is infinitely deadly, and your little brother is infinitely intelligent. Make it work.”

“Now we’re off to deal with our part of this task.” Esme said as he stepped up and offered his right elbow to his wife. He revealed a violet jewel on a chain buried beneath his vest as Alix hooked his elbow. “If you need us you know what to do.”

For a moment, none of the siblings could speak as they watched their parents bounce away in a jolly gait into the perpetual smog of Ettermire's streets. Vespasian looked into the sky as he ran his fingers through his head and sighed with exasperation. He hadn’t done anything all day and he was already worn out. Such was the abrasive power of Alix & Esme. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t even surprised, not after all this time. He was, however, quite a bit perturbed at the mischievous ploy. Perhaps they thought they were teaching him and his sisters a lesson in improvisation. Either way, Vespasian got over it quickly enough. It was time to focus on a possible solution. He looked at his sisters, and pressed his lips to keep from laughing at them. For the toughest women he knew they sure had thin skin when it came to Mom and Dad’s antics.

“Are you really surprised?” Vespasian said as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Because if I do my math right, you two have known them longer than I have.”

“Not surprised in the least.” Ludivine paced back and forth like a caged panther with wide eyes of icy fury. Her voice was as brutish as could be. “We still have a right to be pissed off!” Vespasian put a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. They were standing in front of the busiest train station and airship tower in the known world. Granted there were only six others, but he didn’t want them making a scene nonetheless.

“I am surprised.” Maelle put one hand on her hip as the other fanned her face, which was a crinkled sweaty mass of frustration. “After all we’ve been through they still prefer to keep us out of the loop. And if they ‘calculated’ the committee’s response they were probably creating a self fulfilled prophecy. I should have made the proposal.” She tossed her shining auburn hair.

“Really, Maelle?” Vespasian rolled his eyes. He knew what his sister was getting at. “There comes a point when being a woman isn’t disarming anymore.”

“Really, Vespasian?” Maelle mocked him with a deep voice of slurred speech. “When?”

“These are the most scientific, and apathetic people in the world.” Vespasian said as he sat on a hard bench made of black wrought iron. “The Dark Elves don’t give a damn about what’s between your legs.” He looked over his shoulder at a passerby, an Dark Elf man of mahogany skin and silver hair clad in noble fashion. “Xun dos, ush'akal?” The man stopped for a moment and scanned Maelle up and down. He responded with a shrug and was on his way. “See?”

“Nevertheless.” Maelle stuck her nose in the air as she sat to his right. “I would have sold it better.”

“That committee included the few people who know who we are.” Ludivine, now calm, sat to Vespasian’s left. “That would have been like showing someone a card trick they know the secret to. If they read our dossier they’d know how…” She paused. “Charming you are. They wouldn’t believe a word that came out of your mouth.” They sat there for a moment. She leaned forward and rested her chin on her hands. “Still can’t believe Mom and Dad did that though.”

“Well, we have to look at it from their point of view.” Vespasian said as he looked straight forward to avoid eye contact from either side. He could see both his elder sisters straightening up in the corners of his eyes as if to say with their bodies we’re listening. He smiled. “For them this is… thoroughly amusing.” He was surrounded by hisses, much to his satisfaction.

“We’re still up shit creek.” Ludivine slumped back down only to perk back up a second later. “Unless!”

“What?”

“We ditch this whole deal and go see a cage fight at the Bottomless Pit.” This time the hisses were for her. She chuckled as she rubbed Vespasian’s hair. “Seriously, though. The committee won’t give us one,” She made sure not to say ‘airship’ as it was a spy’s habit not to call a valued item by its true name in public. “We don’t know anyone who owns one, and we can’t ‘commandeer’ one without making unnecessary sacrifices.”

“I guess there’s only one thing we can do.” Vespasian said. “Recon.”

[The International]

Ah. Recon. Ludivine knew that was her queue. She stood up from the bench with an all too common hypothetical mindset stressing herself over a massive series of ifs. If anyone other than Vespasian were asking her to do what she was about to do without payment, she wouldn’t have done it. If Vespasian had walked away from their parents, she would have been right behind them. If Vespasian raised his middle finger to them, she would have done the same… happily. She suddenly realized that her hypothetical scenarios were riddled with the name of her little brother even more than the ifs. For some reason she didn’t mind. What she did mind was her sister, whose anxious body language annoyed her even from the corner of her eye.

Maelle finally gave in it seemed. “… What are you waiting for?” The eldest crossed her arms as she straightened up on the bench and looked at her.

“Do you want to do it then?” Ludivine snapped back at Maelle with icy blue daggers for eyes. The eldest sister sat back and looked to Vespasian, who concealed a light chuckle.

Ludivine turned back around and faced the giant entrance of the Ettermire Grand Station with her hands on her hips. She stood… and waited for three long minutes until a group of common tongued humans made their way into the entrance with wide eyes of wonder. She followed alongside them as they entered. She passed under the massive steel and stone archway of the station as nothing more than another Coronian looking to get a taste of the Dark Elves’ steam wonders. She didn’t dare look at them for they didn’t bother to even look at each other. Like the other Humans her eyes were fixated on the ruby cushions and the brass railings, the marble floors and the polished stone walls. This was just the atrium. The population of the atrium was a decent mix of Drow, Dwarf, and Human, so no one so much as looked at Ludivine and her adopted companions.

She looked down at her dark blue deck shoes and watched as the color began to seep out of them. They eventually became translucent and finally nonexistent to her eyes. Her body slowly melted away. She glanced at the rippling surface of the water inside a cleansing bowl as she passed by to discover that a sly grin had been etched across her face as it disappeared. That sinister smile – the true Villeneuve heirloom. She was now out of sight and out of mind – completely in control of everyone’s perception of her.

Ludivine continued to walk, but changed her direction. If they were going to do what their parents insisted they do, they’d have to know what was available to them. She made her way past a sparsely populated sitting area of iron pews and towards the back, where a group of Drow in black suits loitered about. Each of them wielded a saber on one hip and a double barreled flintlock pistol on the other. Two stood in front of a tall pair of double doors as several more Drow clad in soot and dust more than anything else made their way in and out of it. It was a good thing the marble floor made footsteps loud and the walls of the atrium made those footsteps louder. In any other situation she’d have to be quite light footed, but here all she had to do was wait for a passing mechanic to open the door. She slipped through as the heavy wooden thing took its time to close and she was in the Station’s hanger.

The cynical assassin was never impressed by anything, but what lay before her managed to be the exception. The hanger of the Ettermire Grand was a warehouse so vast that she couldn’t see the opposite side. She wasn’t sure if that was because of the distance or because the most colossal airships, all gathered in the back, were obstructing her view.

Woah She thought to herself.

We heard that. The all too familiar voice of Maelle echoed in her head as if it were a hollow cavern. Ludivine grabbed at the Crown Jewel of Valsheress that hung on a simple black rope around her neck. The damned thing was transmitting all of her auditory thoughts to her siblings, and quite possibly her parents too.

This hanger is huge! I’ve never been in one of these before. Ludivine began a slow walk towards the marvels of technology that lay before her, barely missing a few mechanics clad in vests and safety goggles. Her attention bounced about like a rubber play ball. Sparks flying here, smoke there, yelling in this direction, an engine in that direction. I’m guessing this is the biggest one… and what’s that smell?

The smell could be any number of things, Sis. Just trust that it isn’t the Dark Elves. The vibrato of Vespasian’s baritone voice always tickled her head. She somehow imagined the roots of her hair standing up at the sound of it. And yes, it is the biggest. There’s enough land in the rest of the country for personal hangers, but here everyone uses the Ettermire Grand unless they want to add half a day’s carriage ride in from the outskirts of the city.

Lucky for us. Maelle thought. Every rich aristocrat’s ship is cooped up in here for us to take.

Do we need one of the public airships, because I’m standing in front of a cloud train right now. Ludivine stood before what was nothing more than an oblong galleon with patched up balloons for sails and giant fish fins on its sides. It screamed… common.

The disgust in your mind’s voice is shared. Vespasian thought. We won’t be using one of those. It takes too many people to operate and can’t handle the supercell. We need something more personal… More private, but not so private that we can’t con our way in. How are the ships organized?

They sit in numbered lots, but they’re organized by size.

Good. What we’re looking for is a ship in the Featherweight class. Ludivine began to walk. It needs to be a hybrid propulsion mix of rigid air balloon and alchemic air rings. Do you know what that might look like?

Yea, and it narrows it down to… None Ludivine stood with her back to an empty wall that reached as high as the sky.

Damn. Are you sure?

The Drow are well organized if nothing else. Ludivine rolled her eyes as she kept on walking. She found herself along a row only sparsely populated by the smallest ships in the hanger. And for the smallest they were still quite large. They’ve got plenty of Cruiserweight classes, thirty two to be exact.

How many with what we’re looking for?

It took Ludivine a few moments to count as she ran along the row. Her eyes scanned over the propellers and the sails and the balloons, the wood and the brass and the bronze. … Nine.

Alright. We’re going to narrow it down even further. How many with a gondola and a rigid metallic balloon?

… Three.

Memorize the numbers and get out here. It’s Maelle’s show now.