Eric soon found himself under an overcast sky, taking sweet breaths of air that tasted of smoke, horse dung, and freedom, his sword cane once more in hand. All in all, he thought it a miracle that it was even back in his possession, that it hadn’t been stolen or at least unsheathed, revealing a surprise that would have led to extremely uncomfortable questions and had been a source of low key anxiety since they were first arrested.

  Ivan was without any weapon at all, which wasn’t surprising, considering how deeply the inquisitors despised him. Yet Eric hadn’t been hindered least. Not once had he been struck. No one had even searched his person, let alone demanded the contents of his purse or pockets. His sword cane had been returned with nothing but a cold glare from the thug who hadn’t even roughed Eric up enough to realize just how heavily reinforced his courtier’s attire truly was. All of which made Eric wonder if Chief Inquisitor Hatson was seriously considering working with Eric’s supposed trading consortium.

  He flashed a cold smile at the thought. If nothing else, it meant that he might actually survive his next encounter with Hatson, if he actually chose to play ball with the psychopath.

  “Eric…”

  He gave a sharp shake of his head as they continued making their way along the cobblestone road at a fast clip, putting the city hall behind them. Eric keeping a sharp eye out for any laborer, beggar, or hard-eyed cutpurse to be matching their stride.

  He saw and sensed nothing.

  And he wasn’t so foolish as to trust that.

  Not considering just how well-informed their foes had been, savvy enough to plan an ambush for Ivan shortly after he had arrived at town, which meant that things had been simmering for awhile, and the Inquisitors had merely been waiting for an appropriate patsy.

  For all Eric knew, Ivan was just one of a handful of vulnerable men and women they would use as Trojan horses to poison the metaphoric wells of their enemies. And who knew how many eagle eyes and sensitive ears had been turned from previous targets to keep an eye on the bird now flown from the coup… with package in hand.

  Instead, Eric turned to his friend, smiling with false cheer. “Just think, friend Ivan. The moment we get this ugliness out of the way, you’ll be up a handful of gold crowns and we’ll be well on our way to being the exclusive trading partners for the most powerful religious and military faction in all the colonies. The world will be our oyster, Ivan. Just you wait!”

  Eric’s smile was fierce, though he wasn’t so foolish as to wink.

  Fortunately, Ivan was no fool. “Oliver trusts me. It will be nothing for us to coax him into a private meeting in his study. We’ll stash the contents…”

  “Books!” Eric said brightly.

  He patted the sack, feeling the outline of books tightly packed within, all the same temperature, his infravision telling him nothing that his hands couldn’t feel. “I suspect we’ve been handed some true literary treasures that our dear Oliver would be absolutely astonished to find in his study bookshelves.”

  Ivan chuckled softly. “Poor fool. That he actually thought the New World could ever be a place for egalitarian ideals…”

  “When anyone with any sense knows that it is power and profit that rule this world. Idealism is just a tool that the savvy and wise use to stoke the fires of the young and foolish who will fight and die for their glorious ideals… while the pockets of the men coaxing them on will be lined with ever more silver and gold.”

  Eric flashed a smile perhaps a bit too bitter, too jaded, noting Ivan’s furrowed brow, before forcing a lighthearted chuckle.

  “Let’s look on the bright side, my friend. Soon, Europe’s cities will be absolutely inundated with furs that will keep countless laborers warm and snug instead of freezing their fingers off and dying of the cold. We’re practically heroes saving the common working man! So let’s get this ugliness out of the way. Even our dear friend Edwin made it clear that we’ll be absolved of all sin for following the dictates of necessity and higher justice!”

  Ivan snorted. “Higher justice indeed. Come. The back entrance to the academy is this way.”

  The man then led Eric through a number of roundabouts and back alleyways before racing several city blocks, it becoming clear that Ivan was dead set on losing any followers before the Collegium’s magnificent steeple and the imposing edifice of slate and marble and architectural grace was before them once more.

  Ivan took a slow, calming breath when they were before the rear of the college, Eric not blind to the intense swirl of ethereal currents that he was damn certain was a protective ward or spell of some sort that permeated the steel fence beyond which the lush grounds sported a hedge maze and, just beyond the flower beds and beside the building that was both academy and church, was a tiny graveyard, little more than a modest collection of tombstones.

  Eric furrowed his brow, having caught sight of something… before he turned to meet Ivan’s intent stare as the man pulled the chain handle beside the gate, no doubt alerting groundskeeper or the college itself.

  Yet a quick look made Ivan’s true purpose quite clear, for there wasn’t a soul around as the man whispered urgently into Eric’s ear.

  “We will not betray our friends.”

  Eric coolly met the man’s fierce glare, his voice just as soft as Ivan’s own. Just in case. “Of course not. We’ll let Oliver know that the inquisitors are making a hard play for him this very night. He can burn these tomes in his bloody furnace or fireplace, for all I care. Or if he prefers that we carry them away… we’ll head to the forest and dispose of them while fleeing this tinderbox of a city. Right now, it’s about slipping inside and making sure that Agda and Emily are okay.”

  Kept quiet was his own personal desire to peruse those tomes, lest true treasures of profound value to himself or perhaps Grim might be hidden in the convoluted pages of this tale. And those treasures he would do his best not to destroy at all… as long as they couldn’t be used by their foes to set up their friends.

  Ivan’s glare eased. He gave a hesitant nod. “Good. Then we’re agreed.” He flashed a bitter smile. “I know you’re no fool, Eric. I’m sure you know what will happen if we actually attempt to collect our promised gold.”

  Eric snorted. “They probably think we’ll take the first half and get the hell out before they incarcerate our allies and forgo the second, when we both know that if that psychopath of an inquisitor has his way, we’ll all be burning at the stake, so fuck ‘em. We warn Oliver, lay low, and wait for dust to turn to true nightfall. Then we free Agdelina and get the hell out of here.”

  Ivan flashed a hard smile. “Good. You understand. And I suspect that Lord Hatson might actually be disposed to working with you, so well did you sell your story. But my family will pay the ultimate price for that man’s hate, even if he waits for you to take sail with the first shipment of furs before me and mine disappear for good. And no matter what move we make, Agdelina’s still in their power.”

  Eric smirked. “Not really. I know exactly where our former cell is, relative to our current position, and I know the alleyway that the prison cell bars face. We passed it while taking the back roads here.”

  Ivan blinked, before giving a slow nod. “Impressive.”

  “I know, right? Almost like I have an ever-updating map in the back of my head.”

  The man snorted. “What a useful talent. Too bad we can’t cut…”

  Eric winked, slowly shaking his head as he patted his sword cane. “You know just how hot I got the blade of my spear, right?”

  Ivan blinked. “Eric…”

  He flashed a toothy smile. “The tip of this sword is twice as hot. Don’t give me that look, I’m not insane. I don’t need my fencing glove bursting into flames or burning off my hand. Most of the blade and the sheath or walking stick itself is at a permanent 80 degrees, so it doesn’t throw me off, but the last four inches are 4000 degrees. Anyone whose wrist I cut or neck I slice open with a quick flick is done. It will also throw off any opponent’s ability to parry or wind past my blade, and fill them with hesitancy and fear. I doubt anyone will want to engage me at all! And I get the feeling that a powerful enough lunge will see my blade punching through even an Inquisitor’s steel cuirass, though I’m not stupid enough to risk jamming my weapon like that in the middle of combat. Point is, yes. It should make it easy enough to torch through a few stubborn bars and pull a certain stubborn woman through… so long as the alley is clear.”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Ivan stared at him for long moments. “Were our situation any less perilous than it it… I suspect Oliver would give much to take on someone with your odd talents as his student. Who knows how far you could go?”

  Before Eric could think of an answer to that, the gate was opened to reveal a solemn faced young woman wearing a dark gray cloak over a red woolen vest with a tan skirt who bowed her head. “Please come with me. The headmaster is expecting you.”

  Eric’s eyes widened with that. He shared a look with Ivan.

  “Interesting.”

  The girl bowed her head. “You may call this one Lee. Please follow… sir?”

  Perception Check: Success!

  Eric stiffened, eyes widening when he caught sight of what had been hidden behind a profusion of wisteria and clinging vines.

  “Please, we have limited time!” The girl Lee urged. And that alone would have been enough to get Eric’s heart racing if it weren’t already, realizing that far more balls were in play than even he had realized… yet not even Ivan’s sharp words could tear Eric from his path.

  First walking then racing through the dew-covered grass blowing in an evening breeze as the scents of wisteria, roses, and ivory, along with limestone and moss overcame his senses.

  Then he was traking one shuddering breath after another as he gazed down upon a dozen tombstones that, though half covered in ivory… didn’t look weathered at all.

  He solemnly turned to Lee, ignoring Ivan’s pointed stare. “Please… what can you tell me about this cemetery?”

  The girl flinched, gazing at Eric for long moments as the breeze rustled her cloak, strands of mousy brown hair slipping free of its bun, before she bowed her head solemnly before the stones.

  “These are where our fellow Enigmatics rest.”

  Eric gazed pointedly at the girl. “Wait. Just so I’m clear. This isn’t just a church cemetery for the town. This is where disciples of Enigma are buried, and no one else?”

  The girl’s eyes flashed with momentary heat, before she dipped her head. “Yes,” she sighed. “You might have heard rumors that those who mastery Enigma’s mystery are immune to illness or age. This is grossest exaggeration, I assure you. Even if we have less to fear than most… we need fear the endless fog most of all. And for all too many of us who fail to take proper precautions… running into mystery when we should be walking with guide-rope and wisdom’s grace, or simply trying to weather fate’s endless storms…”

  She sighed, turning away. “Come. The hour is even later than you think, and we have no time to waste.”

  Eric froze at those words.

  Ivan glared. “Eric, we need to move now!”

  Flinching for a heartbeat, Eric gave a hurried nod. “Yes, you’re right. I… apologize for the delay.”

  And with a final look at a particular tombstone that had been covered with ivory before he shifted it aside, ignoring Lee’s startled hiss… he spotted in exquisite detail that which he had seen but a flash off as ivory rustled in the breeze.

  The insignia of a purple rose and a snow-white swan upon a marble tombstone.

  “Eric!”

  “Coming.”

  He quickly hurried after his impatient looking friend, his thoughts racing as the three of them entered the college proper and a mystery was finally revealed.

  **

  “Ivan, it is good to see you once more,” said the headmaster, smiling fondly at them from the other side of his desk, nearly the size of Mayor Stibbs.

  Yet where the latter’s chamber had been an imposing bulwark intended to intimidate and overwhelm, the warmly hued furniture polished to a gloss and glowing in the reflected light of the crackling fireplace was intended to make one feel welcome. As did the crystal chandelier and the book cases filled with leather-bound tomes inviting anyone to wile away hours on the plush and expertly upholstered Rococo furniture of a forgotten era that only now did Eric take a moment to fully appreciate, complete with feather stuffed pillows and a fine china tea set along with a plate of freshly baked scones complete with small bowls of autumnn berries and clotted cream.

  Yet what Eric found even more captivating than the warmth of the room and the delightful smell of fresh baked bread was the girl looking hale and healthy, smiling at him so warmly as she held her sleeping daughter close, sipping her own tea as her eyes crinkled in a smile. “Eric, how dashing! You look like a proper courtier. What adventures did you and father have this day, I wonder?”

  Even as Agda teased, Eric felt the awful weight of guilt in the pit of his stomach, even hesitating this long.

  Fortunately, Ivan had no more intention of delaying than Eric did.

  “Headmaster Oliver, you need to take steps immediately!”

  Agda’s eyes widened. Oliver’s warm smile faded to a look of concern, Ivan having waited only long enough for the girl who had escorted them to bow and leave, Eric’s hooded gaze sensing her heat signature already fading down the hallway.

  Whatever warm, bonhomie greeting had been prepared had been traded for a decisive man who knew the bite of command. “Explain in full.”

  Ivan took a deep breath. “Chief Inquisitor Hatson is preparing to spring a trap that will see your entire guild in chains before the night is through.” His eyes blazed. “He and Governor Stibbs both. And they plan on using us as their pawns to capture your king.”

  This earned a raised eyebrow. “How?”

  Eric sighed, slowly lowering the pack he had been gifted, thoughts racing as he truly considered all the unexpected ways he might be serving as a Trojan horse.

  His heart began to pound as he voiced his growing concern aloud. “We suspect incriminating books, but perhaps even in this assumption, we’re Trojan horses. Rats carrying poison back to the nest. Perhaps it would be best to open this elsewhere, lest there be traps of one sort or another that we had no chance to properly check for, with so many eyes watching our every move till we were all but rushed to your inner sanctum, and our foes scheme to such a degree that even their attempts to frame you are but a cover for more nefarious maneuvers still.”

  Oliver frowned even as a suddenly panicked Agda backed away from the pack Eric held so casually, positioning herself and her child behind her grim-looking father.

  “If I may, Eric?”

  Eric blinked, then nodded, solemnly handing the man the leather pack.

  “Thank you.” The curly-haired man then closed his eyes and whispered soft phrases in the air.

  Eric shivered, filled with a sense of unexpected reverence, feeling something in the ether.

  Something strange.

  Something wondrous.

  Something utterly beyond his ken.

  Arts he would never be able to access.

  He lowered his gaze, humbled to taste that truth… to understand that there were paths, paths embraced even by mortals in this very room, even by the girl who had so recently escorted them… that were utterly alien to the Phoenix.

  A path through existence that he would never be able to—

  “It is done.”

  Eric blinked at the man. “I’m sorry?”

  Oliver favored Eric with a gentle smile. “Your caution has proven to be well-founded. The traps, and there were three, have been neutralized. Neither poison nor explosives will spell our end this night. As for the other prizes within within…”

  Oliver sighed. “A pair of ancient texts dealing with forbidden arts covering the gunpowder, cyanide, and Dwarven electromana circuit all kept in an artfully sewn leather box that would have felt just like leather book covers… that had, in fact, been leather book covers before being repurposed as a cover for the tightly packed bomb within.” He sighed and shook his head. “Why am I not surprised to find that the Inquisition has access to such devious artistry, and would happily use such in a gambit as twisted as this?”

  But Eric could hardly hear the man past the roaring in his ears, eyes raising to catch a now furious Ivan’s own.

  “Those bastards were playing us for fools. Utterly!” Ivani snarled. “They expected us to die upon their placement, our fallen corpses too cumbersome to carry, along with whatever tainted evidence they contained… our bodies to be a trap to snare this entire academy!”

  Eric nodded. “No wonder he suggested your office, Oliver. I was a fool to think the Chief Inquisitor had seriously entertained trade for even a heartbeat. His sole goal was for us to enter the Enigmatic inner sanctum and taint the entire college, killing anyone near us as well as ourselves before the Inquisition finally made its move.”

  Agda paled, eyes glittering with fury as twin dots of crimson colored her cheeks. “Those monsters would have happily killed me and my child!”

  Eric glared down at his trembling fists, his heart pounded with killing fury as he reclaimed the bag. “Too much of my mind, my titles and gifts, are closed to me here. I’m playing the fool. I’ve become too dependent on the System! Now I have no Danger Sense or Mad Bomber gifts at all. Not for Inquisitors or their explosives. Fuck!”

  A part of him was screaming in dismay, horrified by how close he had come to playing right into that psychopath’s hands and killing his friends… an utter fool to the intrigue and machinations of a mortal in a tiny pocket of Shadow. Who had been two steps ahead the entire time.

  Of course Eric understood why. Without realizing it, he had grown too dependent on that warning tingle in the back of his mind, even if his paranoid racing thoughts had warned him in the end.

  In the bloody nick of time.

  Eric ignored his humiliated flush, too ashamed to even look at Agda and her sleeping child, instead meeting Oliver’s gaze.

  “The Inquisition never expected us to survive. They simply needed us to enter your academy. Perhaps they even thought we’d reveal the truth to you, just as we are now… only we’d take them at their word. Books to incriminate… not explosives and poison to kill us all.” Eric's heart pounded when he realized what his enemy's next move had to be. “Which means that they’re probably heading for the college in full force, eager to see any survivors burn as witches, right this second!”