"The Ariana will dock at the Sky Port one week from today. Officially, it's to resupply, and that's surely part of it; the airship had been away for six months. But according to Madame Corvin, the crew picked up something… extraordinary along the way."
Erik grinned hungrily, his gaze locked on the schematics of the Red Ship spread across the long table in the oversized chamber buried deep in Crownblossom's underground.
The chamber was cavernous, its high ceilings supported by thick iron beams that disappeared into the shadows above. Flickering gas lamps lined the walls, casting erratic shadows over the mismatched furniture and piles of crates scattered across the room.
Arin's heart thundered in his chest as he slowly began to grasp the sheer insanity of what he'd been dragged into.
Voln and Madame Corvin listened to the leader of the Smoking Guild with two vastly different expressions. Voln's sharp features carried a faint smirk, his amusement thinly veiling a deeper calculation. The bald stranger seemed to be in more for the thrill as for the actual bounty the heist might yield. Madame Corvin, in stark contrast, wore a mask of veiled irritation, her crimson hair glinting faintly in the dim light.
But there was one thing Arin could tell about everyone in the room, even without the Fool's insights whispering in his mind. Every single one of them was absolutely reckless, bordering on suicidal. They were planning on messing with Lord Askar directly. And that usually meant death or worse.
He couldn't let this go on.
"Stop!" he shouted, cutting Erik's words short.
The room fell silent. Erik tilted his head slightly, that false courtesy plastered across his handsome face like a painted mask.
"Is there a problem, Arin?" he asked, his tone polite but razor-edged, daring Arin to continue.
Arin steeled his nerves, forcing himself to remain calm. "If you want to die, go ahead. I'm out. In fact, I was never in – the only reason I came was to hear what you wanted from me."
Erik smirked. "And now?"
"And now," Arin said firmly, standing from his chair, "I've listened, and I'll be leaving. Best of luck with… that."
Voln regarded Arin with a hint of disappointment, while Madame Corvin cast Erik a glance that seemed to say, I told you so.
Arin ignored their looks. He didn't care what they thought, whether they saw him as a coward or not. His attention remained fixed on Erik as he began stepping backward.
"What a pity," Erik remarked casually, but did nothing to stop the retreating Arin.
He's letting me leave? Arin thought skeptically. Even as he reached the door, Erik made no move. Keeping his eyes locked on the guild leader, Arin opened the door. It swung wide without resistance.
"I'm leaving now," Arin said again, uncertainty creeping into his voice.
Madame Corvin waved a hand dismissively. "You're wasting our time."
Arin shot her a dark look but didn't linger. He turned to step through the open door, only to feel the icy bite of steel against his throat, the blade pressing just enough to send a shiver of sharp pain through his skin. His eyes flicked downward as the blade bit into his skin, drawing a thin line of blood.
Erik chuckled.
"Come on now, Arin. I've already told you. Now that you know what I'm planning, I simply can't let you leave."
Finally, Arin saw whose blade pressed against his neck. He wasn't surprised to see the beautiful Sorceress standing behind him, her expression as polite as when he first entered.
"Sally?"
"Sorry. I actually like you," she said apologetically, yet there was no real empathy in her voice.
Erik's henchwoman stood behind him, the knife steady at his throat. Arin hadn't seen her approach, nor could he comprehend how she had even entered the room. She hadn't been there while he sat at the table. Even when the door had been shut, he hadn't seen her. Then…
Wisps of smoke curled around Sally's and Arin's feet. I see now, he thought grimly.
He wouldn't leave here alive… if he were alone, that is.
His gray eyes sharpened as his Soulart manifested. A moment later, a hard left hook collided with the young woman's face. Sally was thrown back, the knife narrowly missing the rest of Arin's throat as she hit the ground.
Voln and Madame Corvin sprang to their feet in reaction. Madame Corvin's expression was one of clear annoyance, while Voln seemed almost amused, even impressed. Erik, on the other hand, didn't waver, his smug grin remaining firmly in place.
As Sally tried to rise, the Stubborn delivered a brutal kick to her stomach, his face full of battle lust.
"Stay down," he growled, although Arin was quite sure the Stubborn really wanted her to try.
Not wasting the chance, Arin drew his revolver and leveled it at Erik.
"You should have brought more than one of your lackeys. I'll say it one more time," he declared, this time without a shred of hesitation, "I'm leaving now, or my other self will kick her pretty face in."
Arin's voice carried a confidence he didn't truly feel. Beneath the bravado, a gnawing doubt churned within him. There were still Voln and Madame Corvin to consider. Voln didn't seem like much of a fighter, but Madame Corvin's sharp gaze could have likely killed him on the spot. And he had no idea if one or both of them were Sorcerers. To top it all off, the old revolver he brandished so proudly held only a single bullet. He could only hope Erik hadn't noticed that.
For a moment, the room remained suspended in silence. The tension hung thick in the air, growing heavier with every passing second. Then Erik sighed audibly and dropped back into his chair.
The next thing Arin knew, Sally dissolved into smoke. The Stubborn's foot swung through nothing but air and hit the floor as the mist curled like a living thing. It slithered across the room, reforming behind him. He barely had time to spin around before Sally reappeared, knife raised and ready to strike.
"Enough!" Erik's voice cracked through the tension, startling everyone. To Arin's surprise, Sally froze mid-swing, the knife halting mere inches from his skin. The Stubborn, however, had no such restraint. His fist flew forward once again, landing a solid punch to her face. Sally stumbled back, clutching her nose.
"Hey!" she cried, indignant and injured.
The Stubborn grinned smugly, raising his fists. "That's two to nothing, you cigarette."
"Stop!" Arin barked, the frustration clear in his voice.
"Why? I'm winning," the Stubborn countered, baffled at the suggestion that there could be a solution other than violence.
"I said, stop," Arin growled, his tone brooking no argument.
"Tsk," the Stubborn muttered, lowering his fists but clearly displeased.
Turning back to Erik, Arin noted that the guild leader's ever-present grin had finally disappeared. In its place was a cold, calculating stare that sent a chill down Arin's spine. Erik folded his hands on the table, his expression one of quiet menace.
"Now that you finally understand, put the revolver down, Arin," Erik said, his tone eerily calm.
"Do as he says," Madame Corvin added, her irritation cutting through the air. "You're too young to die here."
Arin's face darkened. "I'm not dying here."
Madame Corvin rolled her eyes. "You will if you keep acting like an idiot."
Arin was about to retort when Erik's next words cut through everything like a blade.
"How is Mayia?"
The cold edge in Erik's voice froze Arin's blood. Erik's gaze remained fixed on him, unflinching and cruel.
"All alone at home," Erik continued. "She must miss you terribly."
The Stubborn exhaled sharply, his rage simmering. Arin felt the same burning desire to put a bullet between Erik's eyes. But the threat was clear: even if he escaped, Mayia wouldn't.
Slowly, Arin lowered the revolver to the table.
"I'll kill you for this," he promised, his voice like ice.
Erik shook his head, the faintest trace of amusement returning to his face. "No, you won't. But I didn't bring up your tragic family situation just for fun."
Erik's hand slid across the table to rest on the blueprints of the airship. His smirk returned, sharper than ever.
"Two."
Arin's brow furrowed. "What?"
"I'll give you two full flasks if you join the raid," Erik said. "I'm not lying when I say we need you and your friends."
Arin's anger hadn't subsided as he answered, venom dripping from his words. "Two vials for a raid on Lord Askar? Even the brothels would pay better."
"Flasks," Voln corrected.
Arin froze. He had misheard. Flasks of liquid Soulfuel? His skeptical gaze shifted to Erik. "How are you going to get your hands on two flasks of Soulfuel? Lord Askar seizes it all."
"Exactly," Erik said with a grin. "Madame Corvin, tell him what you told me."
Madame Corvin's glare could have burned a hole through Erik, but she complied. "Lord Askar has been hoarding liquid Soulfuel like a madman for months. The Ariana is docking soon, and whether that old fox likes it or not, I know it's carrying something he desperately wants."
Erik nodded. "See?"
Arin remained unconvinced. "No one even knows what the Soulfuel is used for. How can you be sure it's on that airship?"
"Because Lord Askar won't tell me," Madame Corvin said simply.
"And why should I care about what he keeps from you?" Arin countered.
Madame Corvin's eyes narrowed before realization struck her. She laughed, her disdain evident.
"You really are clueless, aren't you?" she said, leaning back with a smirk.
Erik filled the silence. "Madame Corvin is an envoy of the Sky King. His spy within House Jarakan. And yes, Lord Askar knows."
When Arin showed no reaction, Erik's confidence faltered. "Did you hear me? She's the envoy-"
"We heard you, pretty boy," the Stubborn interrupted. "Sky King, Pie King, whatever. They can all shove it. Are we supposed to be impressed?"
Madame Corvin's voice turned venomous. "I should cut your tongue out for that."
Voln stepped in to smooth the situation. "Arin, my friend, it's not about her king but her role in Lord Askar's court."
"Her role doesn't matter to me—" The Stubborn began, before Arin cut himself off.
"Did he refuse to tell you what the Soulfuel is for?"
Madame Corvin's smirk widened. "Finally, you're catching on."
Arin ignored her condescension. "You think he's planning something dangerous for your king."
"It's your king too, rat," she snapped. "But yes, the Lords of Crownblossom have always had the tendency to forget that the city does not belong to them, that they only serve someone greater. Lord Askar is by far the worst. He enacts regulations, bans the production of firearms, and refuses to pay the full fleet tax. He's a parasite, defying the crown's laws. But nowhere is he more secretive than with his precious Soulfuel."
"And how do you know the airship is really carrying Soulfuel?" Arin asked, his skepticism barely masked.
"Because he's reacting to the contents of the shipment in the exact same way he does to his little secret project," Madame Corvin replied, her voice sharp and precise. "Believe me, I was trained to read people, and Lord Askar is not as inscrutable as he would like to think. The only thing this shipment could possibly contain is Soulfuel. And with it, I will uncover exactly what Lord Askar is planning."
Arin's eyes widened as the realization struck him. "You want us to raid an airship just so you can find out whether Lord Askar is a threat?"
"No," Madame Corvin corrected with an air of disdain. "I never spoke of a raid. But perhaps it's my mistake for assuming that underground scum could think of anything beyond their own profit."
She shot Erik a long, scathing glance as she finished, her tone dripping with contempt. Erik laughed, the sound rich with amusement.
"That was indeed foolish of you, Madame," he said, leaning back in his chair with a theatrical flair.
"But as you yourself admitted, you can't do this alone. That's why you came to me in the first place. I'll give you the information you need, and in return, you'll give me the Soulfuel. And you, Arin," he continued, turning his attention to the young man, "will get your share. Two flasks, guaranteed. Enough to have your poor sister back on her feet in no time."
Before the Stubborn could let his fleeting hope show, Arin dismissed him. The incarnation dissolved into a swirling cloud of green vapor.
"Oh?" Voln murmured, intrigued by the sight.
Arin ignored the comment and locked his gaze on Erik. Now, he realized, he was already knee-deep in shit, and all he could do now was try to dodge as much of the piss as possible.
"Five flasks," he demanded, his voice cold and unwavering.
"Not a chance," Erik shot back. "I don't even know how much the Ariana will be carrying. Two."
"Four," Arin countered, his tone unrelenting. "You said it yourself – I'm the key to this operation. Without me, your entire plan falls apart."
"Three," Erik said with a smug smile. "Without me, your sister's life falls apart."
Arin's anger flared, his fists clenching tightly. He could feel the rage coursing through him, threatening to boil over.
Slow. I'll do it slow, he vowed silently. But he knew he had no choice… and in the end, there was a part of him that wanted to do this. If, and it was a very risky if, the raid was to be a success, Mayia might just get to live her life again.
Perhaps his fight would find an end too.
"Deal," he spat through gritted teeth.
Erik clapped his hands together with glee, his grin widening as if he'd just sealed a lucrative business transaction. Voln's smirk deepened, clearly pleased to have Arin on board. Madame Corvin, meanwhile, simply looked relieved that the tiresome back-and-forth had finally come to an end.
"Well then," Erik said, his tone light and almost celebratory. "Now that we're all in agreement, let's prepare for the arrival of the Ariana. We've got a lot to do."
Arin said nothing, his eyes fixed on Erik with a glare that promised retribution. Deep down, he knew one thing for certain:
This is far from over.