Chapter 165: Thievery, except only stealing what they aren't looking for
Trinyakorie sat at her desk - her distinctly damaged desk - and wore a very ugly expression on her face. Her teeth were grit, her nose scrunched up, and multiple veins showed on her forehead. She seemed just about ready to explode, and quite frankly, she was.
One of her workshops had been entirely ruined. Not softly damaged, not in slight disarray, but turned entirely upside down. Somehow, none of the people had gotten harmed, which seemed incredible to her. All of them just left the building as though their work was done, and then, minutes later, it broke.
Molten metal spilled everywhere, destroying dozens of pieces of machinery and equipment. Tools were disassembled, workstations turned upside down. There were workpieces, parts of her weapon that were currently in progress which had been shattered, like someone took them from the forge and cooled them down so fast the metal simply couldn't stand the contraction, snapping apart.
Her eyes drifted over line after line of the report, and her fury only grew. Anything valuable that wasn't broken had been stolen. Crystals, gems, valuable minerals and plants, rare metals… all disappeared. Some petty thieves had shown up at her workshop leaving only a damaged lock at her desk for evidence, and suddenly sabotaged her entire operation.
And no one knew anything.
All the workers and smiths and artificers were silent. Said they'd never seen what happened. Her husband, who had slept in her study, said he'd never woken up. The fact that her own child had damaged the surveillance force field generators on the very same day was a simple coincidence. Her guards saw no one.
How?!
How were there no traces? Not even a hair! No scent, no testimonies, not even a letter or anything. Simply incredible damages without any forewarning,
A second letter arrived at her desk,
She'd barely read the first one, and her eyes drifted over for but a moment.
The wax seal was from another one of her workshops.
Trinyakorie blinked, then reached out of the piece of paper with a steady hand. She opened the letter and began reading.
It reported much the same. A second location, hit only a few hours after the first, suddenly faced with incredible damages. And, of course, no one had the slightest clue as to what was going on.
The dragonmother took multiple deep breaths to calm herself and attempt to find a solution to her troubles.
"Trouble?" a mocking voice from the doorframe rudely interrupted her.
Her head whipped around to face the coward child, eyes alight with fury. "Yes. Trouble."
Berthorn rubbed his hands., approaching her desk "My favourite. What kind?"
"It does not concern you," Trinya ground out from between gritted teeth.
"Hah!" The mocking laugh made its way from Berthorn's stomach before he knew it, and his mother's gaze turned even more furious in response. "Doesn't concern me, eh? Part of your big secret project?"
Trinya turned back to the letters on her desk, suppressing the anger she felt at the coward. He had always had a habit of this; of showing up only when people were already at a low point, when they were angry or busy. She met his incessant chatter with silence.
"Hm, I see. Yes, this is part of your project," Berthorn muttered, prancing around her desk. He threw sly glances towards the letters, but didn't manage to catch what they said, his mother's hands covering them up.
Not that he needed to know.
Berthorn was more than aware of what the letters said, after all.
He innerly sneered contemptuously at his mother. He wondered how she felt now, whether she was still happy facing all the suppression she had put on him for so long. Whether, if she knew the truth, she would still consider him a coward.
How he ever feared the vitriolic woman was beyond him. Now, he felt so superior. It was incredible, like floating on a cloud, and he relished every step he made through her office, leaning in towards the table, then further away again. His mother was so angry, fuming even, just short of snapping at him, yet every one of his Skills signalled that she would only attack him if he misspoke.
Berthorn hardly ever made such mistakes.
The feeling was freeing. Knowing he was safe near an enemy. Truly incredible.
"Please, mother, I only came to offer help," he said out loud, wearing an amicable smile.
He had not come to help. He was there to gloat at her misery.
"Berthorn, this is not something you can help with," Trinya answered, holding on to her royal demeanor, sitting perfectly straight, as she always did.
The younger dragon crossed his arms lightly. "I believe it is, mother. My Skills seem strangely suited to solving this little case of yours."
"They are unneeded," she said, waving him off. "You may leave my study."
"May I now?" Berthorn asked.
When no reply came, he shifted again, uncrossing his arms, and turning his back to his mother. He was at the front of the room, now, facing the wall of bookshelves. Rather than leaving, he began running his fingers across the spines of the old volumes.
He pulled one of them out.
"I enjoy this one, mother," he said, leafing through the pages. It was a historical recounting of a tale of an ancient dragon. One that had died in another Book entirely. Berthorn didn't care about the distance, he cared about the contents.
His mother didn't look up from her papers.
"See here, mother? This is how the main character got disowned by his parents. They'll take him back in a couple chapters later, you know?"
Silence.
"But he refuses, of course, he does, and seeks revenge."
"Was it you?" Trinya asked. Her voice was stable, entirely free of fury. She sat on the chair, as straight as always, though her head had shifted. Her eyes bored into Berthorn like pits of lava, demanding he meet them.
He did so with an amiable smile.
Leisurely, Berthorn put the book back on the shelf, slid his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket, then leaned back against the bookshelf with crossed legs. "What, me?" He scoffed. "Never, mother. No. I am simply very sure that there is someone with the motive and the means to interfere with your project."
"Someone such as yourself." It wasn't a question.
"Yes, someone who used to be quite close to me, even."
Berthorn still met her eyes, until Trinya, herself, turned to face the window instead. She scoffed at his words. "Your brother is powerless."
At this point, the other dragon couldn't take it anymore. He chuckled, then huffed, and eventually laughed out loud, holding his face with one hand. Trinya looked at her son stone-faced, her expression as though hewn from marble.
She waited as he laughed, bending at the waist, laughed and laughed on. Eventually, he stopped.
"Powerless?" Berthorn asked, withdrawing a handkerchief to wipe away his tears from laughter. He chuckled again. "Yes, of course. My brother is powerless. There has never been an instance of you thinking that before and losing out on things because of it."
He slung the handkerchief over his shoulder. Without giving his mother another look, he strolled towards the door. "Powerless," he muttered to himself with another chuckle and a shake of his head as he opened the door.
"Mother. For your own sake, reconsider," he said, then shut the door behind him.
Immediately, Berthorn lost all traces of the succinct smile he'd been wearing. He was feeling elated on the inside, free, but he showed not a trace of it. With a nod to the guard outside, Berthorn strolled through the corridors.
Now, the shadows seemed out to get him again, every one of the guards a potential traitor. Just like his mother, he knew that someone had entered the mansion. He had his suspicions for who it was, that damned mopaaw seemed to stick its paws everywhere, and it would be just like his brother to meddle.
They also had sufficient contact with his sister to ask her a favour, such as disabling the wards.
Berthorn thought of the theory, and felt innerly happy. They had acted just in time to fall for his trap. Soon, there would be a third letter on his mother's desk, this time, maybe with witnesses.
Neither of the two current attacks had been done by Mercury. Berthorn had long since planted spies within the groups of artificers. At the other workstations, flaws were being planted into the devices. No matter how many of them were fakes, he would simply manipulate and put his tracks over each and every one.
This time, he simply commanded his workers to have everyone exit, then devastate the facility. They caused havoc. Two places, shortly after one another, leaving perhaps just enough time to fly from one over to the next. And within his own treasuries, he had gained from this.
No matter how much he had to pay for the spies, all the deals were worthwhile now. The amount of precious materials he got from these swift strikes exceeded his imagination wildly.
As Berthorn left his parents' mansion, he permitted himself a smile again. The sun stood high in the sky, casting a shadow behind him. Despite his suspicion towards the guards, he granted himself one moment of pure bliss.
Elation at the brewing success of his plans.
Elation at finally breaking froth from his mother's shadow.
Elation at the grasp he had of his own destiny.
Then, he let the smile fade away, his expression returned to a neutral one as he walked.
There was still so much to do, after all.
- - - - - -
Mercury and Irrithuriel left early in the day, and came back a few hours later, after everything passed. They didn't find the spark in the single place they robbed, but there were many more to go, so they weren't in a hurry.
It left Mercury with plenty of time to practice his magic some more, once his mana regenerated, and until then, he simply enjoyed his time with Zyl, chatting the hours away.
Day after day passed as such. Not being discovered was the hardest part, but it was still doable. Irrithuriel would occasionally simply have everyone inside leaving, and they'd search after, and sometimes she would coat both Mercury and herself in illusions as they went about searching the facilities.
They came across one which was already empty on the fourth day of searching.
Which was strange, because they hadn't looted it yet. Was there someone else also going around and doing the same thing as them? Destroying Trinya's hard work for personal reasons?
Mercury bit his lip at the sight. Not that he wasn't happy other people were ruining Trinya's plans, but at the same time, if they found Zyl's spark, would the dragon ever get to see it again? Mercury doubted it.
So, he and Irrithuriel set about going fast in their attacks, but at the same time, guards around the facilities were increasing. There had been hardly any before, since the whole operation was more of a quiet thing, but now, each one of the workshops was patrolled and protected.
Which made it significantly harder to explore.
Despite that, Mercury didn't let himself be discouraged. They still kept searching as much as possible, but weren't really able to speed up their pace.
A few days later, they'd searched all of the workshops, and the spark was nowhere in sight.
Once again, Irrithuriel, Zyl, and Mercury sat at a table, looking for a plan.
"Surely, Trinyakorie would simply have moved the spark to be worked on under her direct supervision now, right?" Irrithuriel suggested at the table. She was leaning far back in her chair, her eyes closed. She'd been complaining about her back, once again.
"I don't know. She may have simply stopped the production for now," Zyl said nervously. He was pacing back and forth next to the table, unable to sit down.
"Maybe not. She didn't exactly seem like a very patient person when I saw her," Mercury added.
Zyl shot him a look. "She can be."
"All dragons are willing to wait," Irrithuriel agreed. She took a long pause to stretch during which Zyl gave her a nod. "But Trinyakorie is not as renowned for waiting. Not when it comes to power."
Zyl chewed his lip. "That's true…"
"Well, what do we have to lose? If we just walk up to her and negotiate for the spark, what can she do?" Mercury asked.
"Kill you," Irrithuriel replied.
"Yes, maybe, but not easily!"
"Very easily," Zyl said with a sigh. "Mercury. I love you for your bravery. But there is a line between that and foolishness. My mother looks down on anyone who is not a dragon. She would see you as little less than a common beast, same as she sees humans, mind you. One wrong word, and after a swift breath of fire I may only take your ashes back."
Mercury looked at him for a long, drawn out moment, then sighed. "Alright," he said finally. "Fine. What do you suggest then?"
Zyl threw his hands up. "To simply stop! Stop here. We can go home. Be left alone. Act as though this never happened. I'll heal, in time."
Mercury shrugged. "You might. Let's assume you will. When will your family return to ask for more? How much is enough? What will your mother use that power for, use your power for?"
This time, Zyl looked at him stunned. "Is that truly my responsibility?"
"No. But it's our future, Zyl. I'm sick of letting these people walk over you. Your brother tried to kill me. Your mother will try to harm us. There is a chance that maybe they will simply leave us alone, but would you bet our lives on that?"
"... No."
"Right, then. So how do we stop your mother from crafting the weapon?" Mercury finally brought it back on track.
"We may be able to simply ask her," Irrithuriel said, her eyes finally drifting open.
"It will go poorly," Zyl said limply.
"Perhaps. But it is better than inaction. Perhaps I could ask her, while you and Starlight may work together to attempt to find the shard?" She raised an eyebrow.
Mercury cocked his head. "How would we go about that?"
"Starlight. Your… dream magic, whatever it is, I believe you mentioned putting marks on people, or following tethers?"
"Yeah. It's a bit inexact since I mostly go by the feel of it, but that's the gist of it. If someone has a tether to me, I can usually follow it, and place a mark on them, letting me find them. I still feel some of those in the back of my head," he said.
"Good. Then, can you follow the tethers on someone else?" Irrithuriel asked.
"Maybe, yeah, it should be possible at least."
"Perhaps you could see if there is a tether between Friaminth and his spark, then?" She suggested.
There was a long silence.
"Huh," Mercury finally said. "That might just work."
Irrithuriel smiled at the men's incredulous looks. "It's a plan, then. Work your magic, Dreamer, and I will ask Trinyakorie about her project. No doubt she already knows I assist you."