Gifted

Haruki Kagemi blew a cloud of pale pink smoke into the air of her parlour. Kneeling before her were the two returning kits. Each of the foxkin had a single tail lying still behind them, while her own five swayed in a hypnotic dance. The flowing, purple robe she wore concealed the flexible and enchanted leather armour beneath — not to mention the small arsenal of weapons, poisoned and otherwise.

Clan Kagemi had persevered for hundreds of years despite their fellow beastkins’ distrust of foxkin. Wariness of those who wielded illusions and worked with poisons was understandable, and Haruki — like those who came before her — understood that it was a tight rope she needed to walk so that the Kagemi Clan remained somewhere between dangerous and useful.

The first step in navigating such a treacherous path was information, which was why she had the two kits kneeling before her ready to deliver their reports.

“Amari, Miyara, tell me how your task fared?”

Haruki wove a spell into her voice, the sound coming from all directions at once. The kits shivered under her attention, the usually playful Amari fearful in Haruki’s presence. Especially since the kit had been disarmed, her usual array of daggers missing from her leather armour. Miyara, ever the dagger in the dark, merely tensed as though ready to defend herself — her exposed red fur shimmering in the flickering lantern light that was intentionally designed to create moving shadows.

“We completed the assignment as required, Matriarch. We travelled with the Mavis brothers for long enough to earn their trust. The youngest is enamoured with Amari, while the eldest is more than willing to trade information for an easier path to power. They have since passed the Beast Hunter’s Guild trials and have been confirmed as members, though their ranks are entry-level. We are confident that they will continue to pass us information on the Beast Hunters as you requested.”

Haruki sniffed, the scent of fear mingled with pheromones. If Amari intended to continue on her path of bed warming assassin, then Haruki would need to acquire an affinity for the kit to mask her scent. While most humans might never notice it, her fellow beastkin would smell the sex on her, along with that of whoever she had lain with recently. There were enchanted items that might accomplish the same, but those were more appropriately used on far more temporary assignments.

Miyara, on the other hand, favoured the darkness far more. The kit lacked the Illusion affinity owing to a weaker Bloodline Path, but instead had a Moderate Shadow affinity. That, in its own way, was a boon. Even Haruki herself had only raised her Illusion affinity to Strong in the last decade. Potent would be impossible in her lifetime without a heavenly blessed opportunity. Miyara, however, might manage a Potent Shadow affinity in a decade or two. Making her the near-perfect assassin.

Haruki didn’t let her gaze drift to where Kazuro stood hidden in the darkness. She would have him train the kit soon.

“Was there anything else to report?” she asked, not willing to show how pleased she was with their success. Their service to the Clan should be reward enough until she doled out more to remind them that success meant growth.

“There is one other thing, Matriarch,” Amari whispered, eyes downcast.

Haruki didn’t shift even though her interest was piqued. Miyara normally spoke for the pair — an issue Haruki intended to remedy by separating the kits. For Amari to take the initiative, it must be something interesting, and no doubt something Amari herself had learned. Miyara would never take credit for someone else’s work.

“Speak,” Haruki commanded.

“I believe we identified George Arman while roaming in the Horndales with the Mavis Brothers.”

Haruki inhaled some of the scented pink smoke as she considered this new development. House Arman had placed a bounty on any information regarding their wayward son.

“Is that all?” she asked.

“He has a daughter, Matriarch. She was taking Aethersensing lessons with the Adventurer’s Society Factor.”

The Kagemi Matriarch blew out a puff of pink smoke that swirled down around her body instead of upwards on spellwrought winds. Displays of power were necessary when you led a Clan of killers. These little reminders achieved a sense of stability and hierarchy that words alone could never accomplish.

“You are both dismissed. Return to the House of Smoke and Mirrors. You have been away for long enough that your development will need to be reassessed before you’re assigned your next task for the Clan. If your words prove true, you will share in the reward.”

The two kits touched their heads to the bamboo mats that had been imported from Helenica before fleeing silently with their single tails tucked against their legs.

With the kits gone, Haruki released the illusion of herself lounging on the pile of cushions. Instead she appeared off to the side and part way up the wall sitting on a small wooden overhang. Her eyes were fixed on a dark patch along the opposite wall.

“What are your thoughts, Kazuro?”

The shadows parted as the grizzled, older foxkin dropped his concealment spell.

“Validate before a decision is made.”

His voice was like sandpaper in her ears, never having fully healed after an encounter with a Smoke Mage many years ago. Just like Miyara, his Bloodline did not carry the Illusion affinity, and so there was no opportunity to utilise the Sound affinity to try and hide his wounds.

“And if she has correctly identified him?”

Haruki already knew what she was going to do. However, the necessity of drilling lessons into her Clan had never left her after her time spent as an instructor in the House of Smoke and Mirrors.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Fulfil the bounty, Matriarch.”

Haruki remained calm, not rolling her eyes. Kazuro was a weapon, and like most weapons, he lacked flexibility.

“Not yet,” she answered, inspecting her claws to show her displeasure at his answer.

“You have another purpose in this, Matriarch? Why expend resources to validate the information if we will not capitalise on it?”

“House Arman is offering a reasonable reward. But we do not want a reasonable reward. We want an unreasonable one. They are unlikely to treat with us in good faith at this moment as they ride the wave of accolades they are receiving for the successes of their scions and forces against the orcish invasion in the East. The loss of George Arman was a powerful blow against the growth of their House, given they spread that he was the heir, which almost certainly means a powerful variant of their Bloodline. If Amari is right, and he has a daughter, there is a possibility she carries a powerful variant as well.”

Haruki ignored how Kazuro’s scent changed at the mention of Bloodlines. He had never truly gotten over his weaker Bloodline and likely still blamed his mother for siring him with a father from another Clan.

“What would you have me do, Matriarch?” he asked.

Haruki smiled. Angry he may be about his Bloodline, but Kazuro’s loyalty to Clan Kagemi had never once been questioned.

“Validate the information. Confirm that it is George Arman. Confirm that he has a daughter, and if possible assess her capability. Gather enough information that when we offer it to House Arman, we can ask for far more than they are currently willing to give. If it turns out his daughter is trivial and irrelevant, then we settle for the original bounty.”

“I will assign Murin to the task,” Kazuro replied.

Haruki gave her nod of approval. Murin was only passable with Illusion, but among the current kits, he was the most capable in Aethersensing.

With her approval given, Kazuro exited the room. Once he was gone, she dropped the illusion of her sitting up on the wall, finally revealing her true location just behind where Kazuro had stood. One day, one of the younger generation would challenge her position as Matriarch. Eventually, fear would fall to greed. Or perhaps they would just believe they could do a better job of protecting the Clan.

Walking back to her pile of cushions, she sat down and looked over the numbers of the latest report. The Arman situation was only of mild interest. Her true focus was getting more information on the Beast Hunter’s Guild. For over half a year, they had appeared to be stepping up their operations in the south and east along the coast while bidding for more Dungeon slots at the same time. Yet despite the appearance of more investment or spending the wealth they had accrued, there was no obvious sign of a return. The number of beast parts entering the market had not increased, nor were the auction houses selling additional beasts for bonding or other purposes. The Beast Hunters were sinking their gold into something, and Haruki hated not knowing. After all, knowledge was power.

“What are you up to, Kalista?” she wondered out loud.

***

Anander’s booted feet slapped against the swaying, wooden walkway as he marched purposefully into the heart of the flotilla.

His original plan to enter Meravia had gone astray. Buying passage aboard a ship leaving Ajinport for Helenica before the Shining Light Paladin caught wind of him had been simple enough. But a storm along the southern coast had impeded the trade ship, which had then been set upon by pirates.

He had debated revealing himself then, but if he did, he would’ve needed to kill the crew of the trade ship as well — and then who would have sailed the boat? Instead, he tolerated the imposition as the pirates stole his chest of clothes and the small amount of wealth contained within.

What he hadn’t expected was for the pirates to foolishly take him captive. They had, unfortunately, been under the impression that he was nobility and could be ransomed back to his House. Subverting the crew had been a slow process, and he had tolerated truly abhorrent living quarters for the first few weeks. Once the second mate was under his sway though, it had been easy to stage a mutiny.

The sacrificed souls hadn’t been enough to aid him — a constant problem at this point — and he had instead distributed their power to his new acolytes. Power gifted in return for loyalty. He would’ve had them land near Meravia after that and made his own way to Helenica, but plans had changed only a few nights after the successful mutiny.

The red-tailed comet streaking across the sky was no omen. He had stood on the quarterdeck, dark eyes tracing the trajectory of the heavenly object, and snorted in derision.

“Another failure falling for their sins,” he had remarked back then.

Still, their failure was his opportunity. The comet had fallen well beyond the horizon, but the waves that had rippled across the ocean in its wake had been enough for Anander to know that the failure had landed farther south in the Thyric Ocean.

A newly formed Dungeon wouldn’t truly meet his needs until it had more time to glut itself on the Worldsoul. That, however, didn’t mean it couldn’t serve some purpose. His original plan to build his cult from an established middle-grade Guild in Helenica would still work if he showed up with a freshly formed Guild empowered from gaining access to a new Dungeon. The fact that he wouldn’t need to worry about any pesky Paladins out on the Thyric Ocean certainly helped make his decision.

Two weeks of sailing had brought them within view of a whirlpool that led down to the ocean floor. At the bottom, a gateway wide enough to drive three boats through led into the Dungeon itself. Anander had not been the first to arrive. He hadn’t even been the fifth. Pirates and powerful merchant traders had gathered under an armistice to reap the rewards of a Dungeon controlled by no nation.

The few water mages among the flotilla had become rich quickly as they ferried those exiting the Dungeon back to the surface. Day by day, the flotilla had grown, wooden walkways being constructed between them as more and more ships flocked to the Dungeon. Helenica’s Navy had tried to lay claim to the area and been driven off, but not before five ships had been scuttled — two of the navy’s and three of the pirates’. The extra wood from the sunken vessels had helped but were nowhere near enough to meet the flotilla’s needs. The city of El Basaad to the south had taken a wiser approach, sending their merchants to trade and delivering fresh wood and food as the gathering expanded beyond all reason till a ring of slowly drifting wood and ships circled the whirlpool.

Anander finally reached his destination, his musings coming to an end as he boarded the largest ship in the flotilla. He was waved through by armed pirates into a large office at the aft of the ship where the other premier captains waited.

The self styled Admiral Pontius ran his fingers along his sun bleached mustache as he looked across at the latest entry.

“News, Captain Anander?”

“Yes, Admiral,” Anander replied, playing into the pirates inflated ego. “My men have returned after successfully entering the third layer. The floor is a volcanic archipelago. We’ve finally found a source of wood.”

Anander, as a predator himself, appreciated the violent glint in Pontius’s eyes. With a source of wood that didn’t require trade with El Basaad, they could finally start trading for what they really needed — slaves from the southern continent to help extract the resources of the Molten Heart Dungeon.