Valiant: Tales From The Drift

[Tails #33: To Kill A Raven]

Log Date: 12/19/12764

Data Sources: Jazel Jaskolka

Event Log: Jazel Jaskolka

Dandelion Drifter Skipper-1

4:08am SGT

“We’re gonna keep the killing to a minimum on this trip, right?”

Milor’s nonchalant icebreaker has me glancing at him as the skipper punches through the upper layers of Charisto’s atmosphere, the windshield tinting red as we descend towards the planet. “Is that a question, or a request?” I reply.

“Well, personally I’d like it if we made it our preferred plan of action.” he says, checking the screen that has our hull heat readings. “I just wanna make sure we’re on the same page about how quickly we resort to violence.”

“If the Raven cooperates, we won’t have to resort to violence.” I say simply, returning my attention to the world below. Streaks of green line the valleys between snowcapped mountain ranges, many of them running in parallel and covering a sizable area of the planet’s surface.

“Look, I’m not a fan of overcomplicating things, but even I recognize there’s a middle ground between compliance and noncompliance. It’s called negotiating.” Milor says. “We’re prolly gonna have to negotiate, kid. You don’t get something for nothing, especially with a crime syndicate.”

“If they give us what we’re asking for, then they get to live. I think it’s a generous offer.”

“Okay, fair ‘nuff. But what sounds like a generous offer to you will probably sound like a threat to them.” Milor says delicately. “Never thought I’d be the voice of reason on a trip like this, but we have to take a more nuanced approach if we want to get what we’re looking for. Busting in guns a-blazing is not going to do us any favors at the negotiating table.”

“Fine. I will try to be diplomatic.” I say. I don’t imagine Milor will get off my back about it otherwise. “You’re certain this is good intel?”

“Huck does good work. He was able to take what Ozzy told us and use it to trace the Raven back to the property holdings on this planet, and cross-reference it with public starship flight logs to make sure the Raven was actually here.” Milor says. “There was some additional work to figure out his schedule, but the dude’s gonna be there. I’m sure of it.”

“What did you have to pay him this time?” I ask, hoping to get Milor to focus on another topic.

“Huck? I talked him into doing it for free. He was open to it once I told him that it was a trace job, one he could do from his apartment instead of getting dragged across the galaxy. And I appealed to his ego, told him it may be a little above his skill level. He took the bait.”

“Impressive.”

“I’ve got an instinct for knowing how to push a person’s buttons.” As the red glow across the windshield starts to subside, he uses his toothpick to gesture to me. “What’s the deal with the cloak? This is the first time I’ve seen you wear it since you were on your homeworld.”

“Cloaks are professional attire for witches. We wear them when we mean business.” I reply curtly. “As a practical matter, they obscure your body in combat and make it harder to target specific areas. And they allow you to conceal your hands if you are accessing your grimoire, or a knife.”

“Mmm. That’s cool, I guess.” Milor says. “And I can trust you to keep your cool while we’re going about this, right? I need you to work with me, not against me, Jazel. Syndicate bosses aren’t anything to shake a stick at. Some of these people will have you killed for looking at them the wrong way, or gettin’ mouthy with ‘em.”

“I will behave reasonably.”

“See, it’s shit like that that makes worried, because I can tell you’re just saying that because it’s what you think I want to hear.” Milor grunts. “And on that note, you need to work on your deceptive skills. You’re almost as bad as Fluffy McFoxtails when it comes to lying.”

“Thank you. Are there any more of my personal shortcomings you would like to harp on before we land at the starport?” I ask drily.

“I’m just trying to make sure we’re on the same page, kid. If you do something reckless or stupid while we’re meeting the Raven, it’s not just your neck you’re puttin’ on the line. And I’d rather do away with any unnecessary risks to my well-bein’.” Milor says. “I don’t mind helpin’ you out, but I’d appreciate it if you returned the favor by not trying to get us killed.”

“I will not endanger us unnecessarily.”

“See, I don’t like that answer either. You’re not as sneaky as you think you are, kid. What you’re not saying is that you’ll endanger us if you think it’s necessary.”

“If you would like, you can stay at the starport, and I will handle this excursion myself.”

“Oh, and now you’re tryin’ to edge me out. You are the most aggravating little bitch sometimes, you know that?”

“Witch. Technically witchling.”

“I know what I said. If it’s more ‘technically correct’, I’ll call you bitchling instead, how’s that.”

“Haha, you’re so clever. It’s not like I heard that one hundreds of times while I was in high school.”

“Well I didn’t grow up on a planet full of witches, so give me credit. I’m feelin’ pretty clever right now.”

“A rare feeling for you, I’m sure.”

“Why is it that you only develop a sense of humor when you’re fixin’ to murder someone? You’re dense as a rock most times, but the moment you want to kill someone, you’re suddenly comedy central, throwing out one-liners left and right. You did the same thing on Laiquedux in the potion shop, with that ‘life-time discount’ pun.”

“Witch humor.”

“Really? That’s all you’re gonna say? You’re not gonna explain that?”

“Does it need to be explained?”

“You know what, just… just forget it.”

Event Log: Jazel Jaskolka

Charisto: Interstate 31 North

11:13am SGT

“…and the recent recruitment of Jetfire Justice to the Valiant has raised questions about the increasing influence that the vigilante group wields on the galactic stage. Sources within CURSE, the Vaunted, and other galactic security organizations have expressed concern that if the Valiant continues to recruit reputable staff with brand or name recognition, the organization will continue to gain legitimacy in the eyes of the galactic public. For more on this topic, we turn to Shina Sothsby, our field correspondent on Kasvei, the world that the Valiant recruited Jetfire Justice from…”

“Do you listen to this stuff because you used to be a Challenger?” I ask as we hurtle down one of the long, multi-lane roads leading through Charisto’s valleys.

“This stuff? You mean the news?” Milor says, giving me a look. He’s the one driving, I suppose because he doesn’t trust me to do it.

“Seems like you listen to a lot of news about the Challengers and the Valiant.”

“Just wanna stay on top o’ current events. Galaxy’s more dangerous than it used to be.” he demurs. “Keepin’ your ear to the ground and knowin’ the state o’ affairs can keep you from stumbling into trouble. Or give you enough heads up to get out of its way if it stumbles in your direction.”

“So you think the Valiant are trouble?” I ask.

“Well, I dunno if they’re trouble themselves. But trouble certainly follows them around.” he says. “They’ve got a lot of enemies right out the gate, mostly because some of them used to be Challengers. Doesn’t seem like they plan on going away anytime soon, though.”

“Do you think the Valiant would help us rescue Kaya, if we could find them and ask them?” I press further.

Milor raises an eyebrow, giving me a sidelong look. “You been waitin’ to ask me that, haven’t you.”

“I figured you’d give me an honest opinion.”

“Mm. Well, I can understand why you wouldn’t want to ask the others about it.” He turns his attention back to the road ahead of us. “If the Valiant really are about helping people, then I think they wouldn’t be opposed to it, in principle. But groups like that, they’re usually out there to protect the masses, and that’s what their missions focus on. Protection of the general public. They usually don’t throw personnel and resources at highly specific, targeted cases like ours. Not unless they get something out of it, or it’s critical to protecting a wider population.”

“So it wouldn’t be worth contacting and asking them.”

He shrugs. “You could always ask. But they might want something in return. Or even worse, they might try to recruit you.”

I glance at my grimoire hand. “I don’t imagine they’d have much interest in a Preserver.”

“You’d be surprised what groups like that hire for. Most the stuff you see about the Valiant is about their big names. Songbird, Jetfire, Jackrabbit. But there’s hundreds of people behind those big names. Support staff, analysts, ship crew, maintenance, experts in different fields… you never know if you might have a skillset they think is useful.” Flicking on one of the turn signals, he takes an offramp that heads out into the hills lining the mountain range to the right. “Besides, with how bloody your hands are, they might have more use for you than you’d think.”

“I’m just doing what I need to rescue my girlfriend.”

“Exactly. With the proper motivation, you are rather dangerous. That is not to be underestimated.” he says, slowing the rental car a little as we enter a zone with a lower speed limit. “And since it’s just the two of us on this carefree little excursion, I suppose I may as well take the opportunity to let you know that CURSE does not have your best interests in mind.”

“Guess I’m not the only one that’s been avoiding certain topics around Dandy and Lysanne.” I say, glancing him out of the corner of my eye.

“Dandy and Lysanne have an admirable faith in CURSE’s good intentions.” Milor says, taking a measured tone. “But I’ve got too much grit in my boots to believe that CURSE is everything they claim they are.”

“And you’re not just saying that because you’re a Challenger?” I ask.

He glances at me. “You don’t need a Challenger to tell you that CURSE would’ve abandoned you to Grimes. And you don’t need a Challenger to tell you that they’re tryin’ to pull an encore with Kaya.”

I press my lips together at that, looking back out my window as the road bends into the foothills near the mountains. We pass a little while in silence before Milor goes on.

“I’m not out here tryin’ to turn you against your employer, just so we’re clear.” he eventually says. “But it is my job to keep an eye on you guys and watch out for you. And it’s pretty obvious to me that CURSE does not have the crew’s best interests at heart. Dandy and Lysanne will probably want more overt proof before they come to the same conclusion, but the thing about walking in quicksand is that you usually don’t find out until you’re ankle-deep in it.”

“You think CURSE is going to harm us?” I ask.

“Not actively, no. That usually backfires. If they do anything, it’ll be through intentional neglect, or insufficient support.” Milor says, shifting the car to a lower gear as the road heads up a particularly steep incline. “That’s how big organizations and companies usually do it. It’s a lot harder to prove intentional neglect, and gives corporations a lot of leeway in terms o’ plausible deniability. They won’t get their hands dirty; they’ll just let things fall apart and let their people fail, then act surprised at the end.”

I blink as my mind slowly winds back through the last year, and the pieces start falling into place. “Like when they told Lysanne they were too busy dealing with the Valiant to help find and rescue me from Grimes. Or when they refused to sign off on letting us help the Tinkerbelles, and then told us that they wouldn’t be liable if anything went wrong.”

“Yeah, you’re startin’ to see it now, aren’tcha.”

“They’re deliberately finding ways to avoid helping us when we need it the most.” I murmur. “But why? Are they trying to get rid of us…? But if they wanted to do that, why wouldn’t they just end the contract with the Academy?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. All I know for sure is that CURSE is not on our side, even if we are on their payroll.” Milor says. “And if we happen to make contact with another, similar, possibly rival organization that expresses interest in our group and our skillset…” He gives a shrug. “…I’m just saying it may be worth some consideration.”

The implication is clear enough that I don’t need to ask what he’s referring to. “I’ll give it some thought.” I say, shifting a little in the passenger seat. What he’s suggesting isn’t small by any stretch of the imagination, and I’m not even sure it’s something the Academy would allow me to do. And Lysanne wouldn’t want to join the Valiant without a good reason, plus there’s the matter of Dandy and the fact that she’s technically CURSE’s employee… there’s a whole host of complications that would get in the way if the Valiant wanted to recruit us.

But I think back on the past year, and how CURSE seems to be going out of their way to avoid helping us. Hanging us out to dry at exactly the times when we need them the most. Leaving us at the mercy of groups and circumstances that we wouldn’t have been able to deal with if we hadn’t had Milor and Ozzy’s connections.

Perhaps it might not be a bad thing to get a visit from a Valiant recruiter.

Encyclopedia Galactica

“Grit In My Boots”

The phrase “grit in my boots” is a Venusian colloquialism which refers to an individual’s lived experience, and typically carries a connotation of cynicism or pessimism. The phrase is thought to have originated in the Venusian military or agricultural industry, where boots are a common choice of attire for individuals involved in jobs focused on manual labor. The expression itself can be interpreted as follows: boots are worn when a person is walking, and grit accumulates in your boots the longer you walk. Grit represents experience, while the act of walking represents the act of living.

Because the phrase assumes the purpose of measuring something, it can be used in a variety of ways: “I’ve got too much grit in my boots for this” (I am too old for this), “he doesn’t look like he’s got a lot of grit in his boots” (he looks inexperienced), “this will put some grit in your boots” (this will be a good learning experience), so on and so forth. While the primary usage is descriptive measurement, sometimes this phrase is used to set context for other sentiments in a sentence: “I got too much grit in my boots to try that” (I know better than to try that/that’s a bad idea). 

There is a truncated version of the phrase which has been produced by the accents and dialects of particular areas. Some communities which use the phrase speak it so quickly that some of the some of the words are compressed into each other; “Grit in my boots” becomes “Gritt’in’ ma’boots”. Outsiders from other nations often mistake this truncation for “gritting your boots”, which has turned up in certain pieces of popular media as an expression for bracing oneself, or getting up the nerve to do something challenging. Oddly enough, this mondegreen has come full circle to the communities where it was originally misheard, and “gritting your boots” is now an expression that is used in some Venusian populations to tell someone to toughen up or brace themselves.

Event Log: Jazel Jaskolka

Charisto: Paguayan Estate

12:19pm SGT

“So, from what Ozzy told me, this Paguayan fella is a vicious liddl’ piece o’ work.” Milor says as we cruise along the access road that leads to the estate on the mountain’s side. “Which isn’t exactly surprising; you can expect a mob boss to be vicious. The surprising part is that he’s Venusian, and he’s only 5’7.”

I’m quiet at that, then glance at him. “…and? Is his height important for some reason?”

He shrugs. “I mean, yeah, that’s the punchline. Venusians are tall. I’m six feet solid, and that’s short, by Venusian standards. Which makes Paguayan a Venusian dwarf, and short people are usually more aggressive, which is… why…” He glances at me, sees my blank look, and sighs, shaking his head. “…nevermind. Point is, the dude is dangerous, and we’re gonna be in dangerous territory. So, follow my lead, and think twice before you blurt out any threats or give the man sass, alright?”

“I don’t intend to say anything that doesn’t need to be said.” I say, returning my attention to the road ahead of us.

“Yeah, well, if you feel like something needs to be said, run it by me first so you don’t get us killed.” he says. “I didn’t bring my shotgun on this trip, even though I probably should’ve. All I’ve got is my pistol, and I don’t want to find out if I can fight my way out of a compound full of goons with only that.”

“If we find ourselves in a suboptimal situation, I have prepared the spells needed to handle it.” I say, the estate coming into view as we round the bend. It looks like it was once a three-story hunting lodge with a classical timberwood construction, the sort of thing that was probably frequented by exclusive club members. It’s been converted into a residence, with a fence ringing the property and a gate with a booth barring entry.

“Last time you ‘handled’ something, you obliterated the top half of someone’s body and put a knife in someone else’s chest.” Milor says sharply. “We can’t do that here. Paguayan’s going to have muscle hanging around. A lot of it. So sit back, follow my lead, and keep your temper down. There’s no point in finding out where Kaya is if we don’t survive long enough to rescue her.”

I don’t say anything to that; while I’m sure that Milor means well, I’m not going to rule anything out. It’s become clear that the others aren’t willing to go as far as I will, or as fast as I would, and I can’t blame them for that — they don’t want to take risks that might get them killed. But for myself, I have no issue taking those risks — I imagine they were the same risks that Kayenta and the others took when they were trying to rescue me from Grimes.

And it’s only right that I return the favor for Kayenta.

Milor rolls down his window as we pull up to the gates, with the guy in the booth sizing us up. I have no doubt that he’s a guard; he simply isn’t dressed like it, enjoying more casual attire, rather than a uniform. “Hey there, bud. Paguayan Estate? We’re in the right place, right?” Milor says.

“We have no visits scheduled for today.” the gate guard says, chewing over his jerky as he sizes us up. The gate remains closed, and based on the way I can hear faint humming through the window, probably electrified.

“Yeah, well, this visit was—” Milor starts.

“We have an appointment.” I interrupt coldly, pulling a black card out of my cloak and holding it over to Milor between two fingers. He glances at the card, then stares daggers at me, the brim of his hat conveniently hiding the face he’s making at me. I just stare at him, tilting the card towards him a little more.

After a moment, he takes in and pokes his head back out the window again. “Sorry about that, bud. Turns out we’ve got an appointment.” he says, holding the card out to the gate guard. I shake my grimoire to life and start poking through the pentafractal depths as the guard takes the card, holding it up and looking it over.

“There isn’t anything on thi—” the guard says right as I tug on a thread of light within my grimoire, and the black card releases a blast of pink glitter in all directions, filling the booth a cloying peony mist that quickly fades. Both Milor and the guard jerk back, but the guard catches the brunt of the burst, and he shakes his head, blinking rapidly as the cast of his face slowly loses its obstinate expression.

“We have a very important appointment with James Paguayan.” I say again. “Would be a real shame if we were late, wouldn’t it.”

The guard blinks again. “Oh yes, of course. My deepest apologies, sir, really, I am sorry for holding you up.” he apologizes profusely, turning to the control panel in the booth. “Let’s get you in there, wouldn’t want you to miss your meeting with the boss.”

“Thank you. We appreciate it.” I say as the gates unlock in front of us, and start rolling back. Milor gives me a look that silently asks what’s going on, and I just shake my head and motion to the parking area up at the lodge ahead. Easing the car forward, we roll onto the estate’s grounds.

“Okay, what the hell was that?” Milor asks after rolling up the window. “Did you just hit that guy with a mind control spell usin’ a business card?”

“I’m a witchling, Milor. What did you expect?” I say, reaching up to take my hood and pull it over my head.

“Well, mostly I expected you to murder someone again, if I’m being completely honest.” Milor says, pulling into the parking area and sliding into a spot. “But that’s just the first barrier to entry. Now we gotta get past whatever else is guarding the lodge, so unless you’ve got a few more of those…”

He trails off when he sees I’m holding up a hand, fanning out a stack of fifteen more black business cards. After staring for a moment, he puts the car in park.

“You are terrifying.” he says frankly.

I smile. “Good.” Folding the cards back into a neat stack, I unbuckle myself. “Let me do the talking. If things get complicated, you can step in. Are we understood?”

Milor grunts as he unbuckles himself. “I’m not a fan of it, but since you got the mind control cards, can’t really say no, can I now?… besides, your way is prolly gonna be easier than trying to smoothtalk my way all the way up to the third floor.”

“Good. Let’s begin, then.” I say, opening the door and stepping out.

“Now, don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but is there a reason you couldn’t have taken this approach with the Tinkerbelles?” Milor says as he gets out of car and locks it behind us. “We coulda skipped the part with all the killin’ and the poisoned arrows and that shit.”

“Yes. The reason is that I did not have the ingredients needed to compose that spell prior to the visit to the potion shop.” I say, marching along the walkway in front of the lodge’s porch. “Which Ozzy so graciously provided me out of his, ah, looted spoils from that visit. The reason the spell is generally not used is because the ingredients needed to make it are both rare and illegal — and casting it on people is also illegal.” I turn my head only slightly as I speak over my shoulder. “I trust you will handle this knowledge appropriately around Lysanne and Dandy.”

I can hear the smirk in Milor’s voice. “Ahhhh… well, aren’t you just a liddl’ bundle of fun when they aren’t around.”

“I’m not a pacifist Preserver like they are.”

“Didn’t know there were different types.” he says, following me up the stairs of the porch.

“The Preserver community is not homogenous. It is often political and riven into different schools of thought.” I explain, making my way across the porch to the main door. “There is a moderate mainstream, and then smaller groups on the edges of it. Some are hardcore pacifists; some are militant ecologists. Some believe the perimeter of our responsibilities ends at sapient creatures; others believe that we should be involved in preserving endangered sapients like the Shanarae. So on, and so forth.”

“Yeah? And what category do you fall into?” he asks as I reach up and ring the doorbell.

“I am in the category of Preservers that do not like having their girlfriends kidnapped.” I answer, ensuring I have a card at the ready while we wait for someone to answer the door. “The category that is more likely to discard the rules if they get in the way of rescuing her.”

Milor nods, chewing on his toothpick. “Fair enough. Can’t really argue with that.”

We continue waiting in silence, and after a moment, I speak again. “I know that Lysanne and Dandy aren’t going to agree with me on everything I do to get Kaya back. If rescuing her requires that I do something unsavory, Milor, can I count on you to stay by my side?”

“Well that really depends, doesn’t it?” he replies. “We’ve all got our lines, and we all draw them in different places. I’ll stick with you for as long as I can, kid. And if you end up havin’ to do something I don’t agree with, I’ll let you know I don’t agree with it. And I prolly won’t help you do it. But I won’t try to stop you unless you’re doing more damage than can be justified for Kaya’s sake.”

I nod. “Fair enough. I’m glad you’re always honest with us, Milor. It’s refreshing.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to be proud of.” he grunts. “You been through what I been through, seen the things I’ve seen, sometimes honesty’s all you got left.”

Our conversation ends as the door opens, and we see what looks like a butler standing within, studying us with a guarded expression. “Can I help you?” he asks.

I give a quiet smile. “I believe you can.” I say, offering the black business card from the shroud of my cloak. “We have an appointment.”

A couple minutes later, we are following the butler down one of the halls on the third floor of the lodge, being led to the office of James Paguayan. I am tapping through the depths of my grimoire, ensuring that I have certain spells close to the surface slots, where they are easier to reach. Milor stays close behind me, while the butler rambles on as he leads the way to his boss’s office.

“…had we known you were visiting, we would’ve had the kitchen prepare something for you. In fact, if you like, I can still send a request to the kitchen to have them put something together for you. Or a snack, perhaps, if you’re not feeling a full meal?” the butler offers. Getting hit with the charm has resulted in a far more accommodating, gregarious version of what seems to be an otherwise stiff individual.

“That won’t be necessary.” I say, dropping my hand back within the shroud of my cloak as we near the door at the end of the hall. “I would instead ask that you stand guard outside the door while we are meeting with your boss. Given the importance of this meeting, I do not want to deal with any… interruptions.”

“Oh certainly, by all means, sir.” the butler says, hurrying ahead to the door. “I will ensure that your meeting can be held in peace.”

“Excellent. We shan’t be long.” I say as he opens the door, and I step into what appears to be an ornate study, with Milor following me. There’s a heavy, carved desk at the far wall, behind which is a short man in hunting camo and short brown hair. Seated in a chair against the right wall is an orc who’s scrolling through his phone, and beside the desk is what looks like a high elf in a suit and a tie. The walls are decorated with a combination of bookshelves and the mounted and taxidermy’d heads of various creatures, some of them clearly rare. Other hunting trophies look like they’re preserved in glass cabinets around the room, and the floors are a rich, polished darkwood.

When we enter unannounced, Paguayan looks up from behind his desk. “What’s this?” he demands, looking at the butler. “Who are these people? Why did you let them in?”

I turn my head enough to speak over my shoulder at the butler. “Close the door. Lock it.” As it swings shut, I look back towards Paguayan. “Mr. Paguayan. My name is Jazel Jaskolka. My friends and I have had dealings with one of your colleagues, Medukat, in the past. I have a certain matter I need to discuss with you.”

Paguayan narrows his eyes as the door locks. “What did you do to my butler?”

“He will be back to himself in a few hours.” I answer. “Recently, a friend of ours was kidnapped by…” I pause when I see Paguayan’s eyes flick towards the orc in the chair, and I glance to see that he’s put his phone away and has a hand near his waistline. “Mr. Paguayan, I would like to have this conversation civilly. We have no intention of harming you; we are simply here to ask for your help.”

“That’s adorable. You came to one of the Four Ravens to ask for help.” Paguayan says, shaking his head. “That tells me everything I need to know.”

“Does it.” I say, and it doesn’t quite feel like a question so much as a dare.

“You’re naïve, and you’re out of your depth. That’s not how we do things.” Paguayan says, glancing at the high elf seated beside his desk. The elf sets aside their pen, and starts closing up the folder they’d been working in. “If you worked in the black market, you would know that there is a price for everything. We do not ‘help’ people in the black market. We are there to make a profit. If you want something, you need to pay for it.”

“Or take it by force.” I counter lazily. I can see Milor shift uneasily out of the corner of my eye, and the orc in the chair leans forward a little more.

Paguayan leans to the side in his chair, resting his weight on one of the armrests as he sizes me up. “Was that a threat?”

“Simply considering my options out loud.” I reply, surreptitiously folding my arms behind my back beneath the shroud of my cloak.

He wrinkles his nose a little. “You’ve got a pair on you, kid.” Picking up one of the paperweights on his desk, he rolls it around in his hand. “You said you had dealings with Medukat in the past. He’s never said anything about you.”

“I don’t believe he would’ve talked about it. Those encounters were not his proudest moments, though I certainly didn’t enjoy them either.” I say. “But that’s enough about that. I have a friend that was kidnapped by the Daughters of Azra. I would very much like to know where they have taken her.”

“And why do you think we would be privy to this information?” Paguayan says, studying the paperweight.

“You are a Raven. I know you have access to that information. And if you do not have it at hand, you can easily pull a few strings and acquire it.” I say. “We had a similar situation almost a year ago. My friends went to Medukat for information, but he would not cooperate. So they had to wring it out of him, just as we will wring it out of you if you do not cooperate.”

“I find it hard to believe that anyone could wring anything out of that drunk bat, much less the likes of you two. And you think that you and your… redneck bodyguard can walk onto my property, filled with my staff, and threaten me into giving you intel you’re not willing to pay for?” Paguayan says, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve been mildly amused up until this point, but now the joke is getting old. Give me one reason I shouldn’t have you killed and taken out with the next trash pickup.”

I glance at the orc, who’s barely masking the fact that he’s ready to spring into action if ordered, and then at the elf, who seems to be hiding it a bit better. “I think that would be unpleasant for everyone involved.”

“That’s it?” Paguayan says when I don’t say anything more. “I was hoping for something a little more compelling. The best you can do is admit that it’ll be unpleasant?”

“I think you misunderstand, Mr. Paguayan.” I say. “It will be unpleasant for you and your subordinates. Painful, likely; possibly even excruciating. As for myself, it will be unpleasant because I do not like washing blood out of my cloak. It may be black fabric, but it will stain all the same.”

“What he means to say is that none of us want to fight each other because that will be a very unenjoyable experience all around, for everyone involved.” Milor interjects at this point, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “So we’d much rather work with you to get what it is we’re looking for. We just want the location of the Daughters of Azra so we can rescue our friend. This isn’t a profit-generating mission; we’re not asking you to get involved; we’re just asking you for a location, so we can go settle what is a private matter. If you can give us a location, we’ll be out of your hair, and no need to worry about us.”

“Ah, so the big guy does speak.” Paguayan says, shifting in his chair. “And here I was thinking that you were just the brute. What are you, his handler?”

“I’m a bodyguard. My job is to protect him and his girlfriend, and a few others.” Milor answers, waving a hand. “And frankly, I’m not interested in making threats or struttin’ feathers; I just wanna rescue the girl so I can go back to my whiskey and my soap operas. So please, as one professional to another: just tell the kid where the Daughters of Azra are, or where they’re gonna be, so we can get this over with and they can stop runnin’ me ragged across the galaxy on a wild foxhunt.”

Paguayan’s mouth twitches a little, almost like he wants to smile. “You’re one of those frontier boys. I can hear the accent. Under different circumstances, I might’ve offered you a job.” His fingers drum over the arm of his chair. “But that still doesn’t negate the fact that I don’t give out something for nothing. You want to know where the Daughters are, I expect a little something in return.”

Milor takes a deep breath, tilting his head back. “…what if I told you that this girl we’re gonna rescue is the one that put Medukat on his ass and helped trash Rock Bottoms almost a year ago?”

Paguayan narrows his eyes. “I do remember hearing something about a little kerfuffle on Halomor a while back, before the whole thing with Songbird crashing the orbital elevator. Medukat was pretty close-mouthed about it. But you really expect me to believe that his girlfriend,” He points at me at this point. “put Medukat on his ass?”

Milor shrugs. “I watched it happen. Pretty funny, too. Been a while since anyone gave Medukat a run for his money. And if you help us find her, we might have a chance to do it again in the future.”

“I’m amused, but amusement doesn’t pay the bills.” Paguayan says, examining his nails. “While this has been an interesting little diversion, I do have work to do. You have offered me nothing of value, and I have a reputation to maintain.” With that, he uses a couple fingers to motion the orc towards us.

The moment I see the finger motion, my hands come out from behind my back, one flinging a pair of light rings towards the orc, and another pair towards Paguayan. “Unfortunate.” I remark as I fall to one knee. Paguayan jerks back, but the rings still loop around his neck; the ones on the orc have caught him around the mid-chest as he pushes up out of his chair towards us. The elf is starting to pull a gun out from under the desk, but I focus on reaching into my grimoire, pulling out a cogtooth gear made of blue light, and twisting it in a circle as far as I can.

In an instant, the second ring around the orc’s chest spins, and his entire body above the second ring twists about 270 degrees, while everything below it is held still. He’s instantly torn in half at the space between the two rings, with such force and violence that the twisting motion paints the walls with a 360-degree blood splatter line at a little above the five-foot mark. For that single second, the wet crunch and squelch of snapped bones and tearing flesh dominates the room, followed by the top third of the orc hitting the ground, his last dying wheezes, and then the body toppling over beside it.

Milor, who had hunched his shoulders up when his neck and chin got splattered with orc blood, holds up his hands to block the view of the corpse. “D’holy ffffFFHHHUU—” he gasps unevenly before shouting at me. “WARN ME NEXT TIME! Oh my GOD I’m going to be hearing that sound in my nightmares for WEEKS, oh god— I think I’m gonna be sick…”

I quickly discard the first gear while Paguayan and the elf are still in shock, and pull another one out of my grimoire as the elf starts to swing their gun towards me. I hold up my grimoire hand and the glowing gear I’ve pulled from its depths. “Don’t. Or your boss gets his head torn off.”

I turn the gear slightly to make my point, and Paguayan seizes in his chair, sitting up like he’s been electrocuted. “HhhuaaaAAAHH HHU AAaahh! STOP! Stop! Listen to him!” he shouts as the second ring around his neck turns, twisting his head while everything below it remains stationary.

The elf glances at Paguayan, then back to me. “Drop the gun. Stand in the corner of the room.” I order, keeping my fingers hooked between the teeth of the gear. After dropping the gun on the floor, the elf slowly stands, and backs into the corner of the study while I slowly stand up.

“I did not want to resort to this, Mr. Paguayan.” I say as I get back to my feet. Milor, in the meantime, has turned his back on the body on the floor and is currently bracing himself on his knees, like he’s nauseous. “Do you know what this spell is?”

“Alright I get it I get it you’ve made your point, stop before you do something you’re gonna regret—” Paguayan says breathlessly, tripping over his words.

“This is a torque spell. It is used in witch garages, for those that work on maintenance and machines.” I explain. “The first ring is applied to an object to hold it still. The second ring is usually applied to a screw, bolt, or a lugnut, and responds to a twist gear, which is what you see me holding here. Typically this spell is used for tire changes when the lugnuts have been tightened too much to be loosened with hand-torque tools. Usually it is applied to a pair of connected objects, such as a wheel and a lugnut, but when both rings are a applied to a single object such as, say…” I pause to glance at the torn halves of the orc on the floor. “…a body, the results can be a little… messy.”

“Alright, alright, I told you, I get it.” Paguayan says through gritted teeth, his hands gripping the arms of his chair. “I don’t know where your girlfriend is. I don’t know where the Daughters of Azra are. I would have to make some calls and tug on some strings. You can threaten me all you want, but I can’t tell you, right now, where they are.”

“That’s unfortunate.” I say, starting to slowly turn the twist gear.

“Hhh—HHHAAA AAH! I DON’T, I DON’T, I DON’T KNOW!” Paguayan shouts as his head starts to twist again, the space on his neck between the two rings reddening. “I WILL FIND OUT! I WILL TELL YOU! JUST, STOP!”

I stop turning the twist gear. “You will, will you?”

“Yes! Yes! I will!”

“And how long will that take?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know! A few hours, probably! It’s not something I can just find out on the turn of the dime! I have to call people, pull strings!”

I ease the twist gear back into neutral position. “I don’t have that kind of time.” I say. “I will leave you with my phone number. Once you find out, you will text me that information. Milor, in my left pocket is a business card. Please pull it out and place it on Mr. Paguayan’s desk.”

Milor swallows hard, then pushes off his knees and reaches into my pocket, pulling out the business card — this one white — and placing it on the edge of Paguayan’s desk.

“We will be leaving now.” I say. “The torque spell will remain on you until we have exited the estate, since I do not trust you to keep your word. You will tell your staff to stand down and let us leave. It would be a real shame if one of them… startled me on our way out. These spells can be quite… sensitive.” I give the twist gear a little twitch, and Paguayan hitches a sharp breath, straightening up a little more.

“Tell the staff to let the visitors leave.” Paguayan grunts at the elf, who pulls their phone out of their pocket and starts texting.

I walk backwards to the door with Milor beside me, and once we reach it, I speak towards it. “You can let us out now.” After a second, we hear the door unlock and push open, and we both slip out of the study. Once we’re out, I order the butler to close and lock the door again, and to remain guarding it. Only at that point do I turn and start walking down the hall, keeping my hand on the twist gear.

“Great. Just great.” Milor fumes as we head back the way we came. “It’s not enough that we had to piss off one crime boss. You had to go and put us on the shitlist of another one, in the same group. Do you know how stupid you were with everything you just did in there?”

“I am aware that meeting did not go the way we wanted it to, Milor.” I say, my stride starting to pick up speed.

“You made all the wrong moves! You threatened him, you left him alive, and you gave him your phone number! Do you know the kind of connections someone like him has? The moment you release that spell, he and his people are gonna be on our asses all the way back to the starport! I wouldn’t be surprised if the first thing he does is put a hit out on us!”

“Considering how he responded to our request for assistance, I’m inclined to think that he would’ve put a hit out on us regardless.” I say as we make our way down the stairs with alacrity.

“Probably because you immediately moved to threatening him once he turned down our request!” Milor snaps.

“I understand you’re upset, Milor; shouting at me will get you nowhere. Let’s get back to the car, and get going.”

“I’m upset at you because now I’ve got to protect your reckless ass from the consequences of your own actions!” he seethes as we reach the ground floor and start to cross the foyer to the front door. “Whatever. Let’s just get out of here. Surviving the next six hours is the only thing that matters at the moment.”

Leaving the lodge, we return to the car, with Milor getting us out of the parking area as quickly as possible. Leaving the estate is easy, since the gate guard is still charmed; as we head back down the access road that brought us here, the twist gear above my grimoire starts to flicker, then fizzles out of existence as we exceed the maximum range that it can maintain connection. Once it does, I start delving through my grimoire again. “Pull over.”

“Oh, no kid, we are not playing those games today.” Milor says. “You’ve got us in enough shit already—”

“And I am about to fix most of it. Pull over.” I interrupt him.

Milor glares at me.

“Pull. Over.” I repeat.

Milor slams on the brakes, slowing the car to a crawl before pulling over into the side of the road. Unlocking the the door, I open it and step out, turning back towards the lodge on the mountainside. My phone starts ringing as I pull a spell sphere out of my grimoire, and once I’ve extracted the sphere, I use my free hand to pull my phone out and answer the call. “Mr. Paguayan. I thought you said it would take a few hours to locate the information I asked you to find.”

“You’re not getting off this planet alive, you freaky little witch. You think you can threaten a Raven and just walk away? I’m gonna ship your head to Medukat as a gift once I’ve had one of my men tear it off that scrawny little body of yours—”

“Mm. That’s a shame.” I reply, holding up the spell sphere between two fingers as I stare through it at the lodge. On the other side of the car, Milor gets out, checking his pistol. “If you are not going to do what I asked you to do, I have no further use for you.”

With that I end the call and release the spell sphere, which pops and lets loose a swirl of sparkles that fades away.

Nothing happens at first, at least that is visible to the eye. But after several seconds, a black sphere with a purple tinge to the edges starts to expand through the walls of the lodge, growing larger and larger until it has encompassed almost all of it. And then, as suddenly as it had expanded, it shrinks in an instant, taking everything inside with it, and winks out of existence. It leaves behind just a partial corner wall and a massive, shallow divot in the mountainside, like someone had taken a giant cream scoop and had simply carved a chunk out of the mountain. All the trees on the mountainside bend towards the estate as wind rushes past them to fill the sudden vacuum, and then whip in the other direction as the pressure wave rebounds outwards.

Milor staggers back a step as the fading wave washes over us, then looks at me. “Did you just…”

“He was not going to help us. I had no further use for him.” I say, letting my grimoire fade as I drop my hand back into the folds of my cloak.

Milor gapes at the hole in the side of the mountain, then at me. “But… how did you…”

“I didn’t give him the business card so he could call me later. I knew the kind of man he was; I knew the moment we took the squeeze off him, he’d be at our throats.” I say, using my phone to take a picture of the gaping hole in the mountainside where the lodge used to be.

“The card you told me to take out of your pocket… that had a spell on it?” he says, still staring at the estate.

“Remote trigger. It’s complicated to pull those off, but I had some guidance from my past lives. The harder part was making a business card out of spell paper.” I explain as I turn back to the car and open the door so I can get in. “He was probably too pissed off to notice the card wasn’t the kind of cardstock you use for business cards.”

Milor doesn’t get back in the car, not right away. “And what’s… the big black ball, does it…”

“Destroys everything caught within it, yes.” I say, buckling myself back in.

“You just killed everyone within that lodge!”

“Sometimes you need to set an example to drive your point home. Do you have Medukat’s number?”

Milor leans down to stare into the car. “Are you out of your mind? Are you trying to make enemies out of the bigger players in the underworld?”

“I haven’t come all this way, and killed all these people, just to back off.” I reply evenly. “Call Medukat. I would like to have a conversation with him.”

Milor huffs a breath, shaking his head. “This is insanity.” he mutters, getting back into the car and slotting his phone into one of the docking ports as he pulls the door closed. “I hate it, but you’re not wrong. We’re this far in, we might as well go all the way at this point.”

“I’m glad you agree.”

“Just because I agree doesn’t mean I like it.” he says as he takes the car out of park and drives back onto the road. “Before we do this, before we make this call, you need to know that if you do this, your life isn’t gonna be quiet after this. You take credit for killing one of the Four Ravens, you can kiss your old life goodbye. Everyone is gonna know who you are; you will never be anonymous again. Certain people in certain places will know who you are on sight. It will give you influence and clout, but it will also make you a target. And you will have to live with that for the rest of your life. Are you sure you want that?”

“If that’s what I have to do to get Kaya back, that’s what I’ll do.” I say, reaching up and pulling my hood off. “Call Medukat.”

“Screw me six ways to Sunday. You really don’t give a damn, do ya.” Milor sighs, shaking his head and tapping at his phone’s screen. “Let’s go kick a hornet’s nest, then.”

The phone starts ringing through the car’s speakers, and goes on for a little over a minute before it finally connects. Medukat’s signature baritone is already displeased as he opens the call. “This had better be good, Trickshot.”

“Look, Razor, I know we got off on the wrong foot last time. Sorry about that; you know it’s nothing personal, just business.” Milor answers.

“Your ‘business’ trashed my office and damn near killed me.”

“Yeah, well— okay, I can’t really defend that, it was some pretty messy business.” Milor concedes. “Look, we need your help with something, it’s pretty minor—”

“You. Want my help. After the stunt that you and your delinquents pulled on Halomor.”

“Mr. Medukat. This is Jazel, the Preserver that you captured on Talingrad.” I cut in before Milor can answer.

There’s a moment of silence before Medukat answers. “The smarmy one that we had to keep pistol-whipping?”

“That was me, yes.” I confirm.

“I’m surprised you haven’t died of brain damage. Let me guess, you’re the one that actually needs help.”

“Yes. One of our friends was kidnapped by the Daughters of Azra. We are calling to ask you for intel on their whereabouts so we can go rescue her.” I say.

Medukat’s answer is long, cackling laugh. “Oh, I’m pretty sure I know who got kidnapped. It was the morphox, wasn’t it.”

I purse my lips. “It was, yes.”

“You know she was the one that trashed my office and nearly killed me? Oh, this is rich. How the wheel turns.”

“Keep your cool, kid.” Milor says quietly to me. “Remember what’s important.”

“So that feisty little vixen got kidnapped by cultists that probably want to use her as a vessel for their demon goddess.” Medukat chuckles. “And you’re calling me to ask for my help finding them? Even after what she did? You’ve got a lot of nerve.”

“So it seems. Your colleague said something similar when we asked him for assistance.” I say, pulling my phone out.

“My colleague?”

“James Paguayan.”

“Ah, so I’m not the first Raven you’ve asked for help. Perhaps I’ll call him later so he can tell me how you begged for help.”

“I wouldn’t bother. He won’t answer.” I say, scrolling through my phone.

“So you actually gave him a run for his money? Color me surprised.”

“No, he refused to assist us. So I had him liquidated, along with the entirety of his lodge and staff on Charisto.” I say, sending the most recent photo I took to Milor’s phone.

There’s a moment of silence before Medukat speaks again. “You are not the best at telling jokes, Preserver.”

“It’s not a joke, Razor.” Milor says at this point. “Paguayan is dead, along with everyone else that was in the lodge.”

The levity in Medukat’s mood seems to bleed out through the extended pauses on the call. “You expect me to believe that a washed-up Challenger and some no-name witch killed one of the Four Ravens?”

“We went to ask him for help. He refused to assist us. Since I had no more use for him, I disposed of him.” I state lazily, putting away my phone. “So now we are calling you. This is my gift to you, Medukat: whatever branches of the arcane black market that Paguayan may’ve controlled, whatever enterprises he managed, are now open for seizure. As of ten minutes ago, they are leaderless, and they do not yet know it. I called you to offer this knowledge first, so you can act on it before any of the other Ravens do. In exchange, I expect you to tell us everything you know about the Daughters of Azra, their operations, locations, and current whereabouts.”

Another pause before the answer. “You know what will happen to you two if I call Paguayan and he picks up the phone? You may think it’s funny to play these games, Preserver, but I can make your life hell.”

“I’m already there, Mr. Medukat, and I intend to share this hell with everyone that gets in my way.” I reply. “I have given you the intelligence that I intend to use as payment. I will give you three days to provide the information that I have requested. That should give you enough time to confirm that Mr. Paguayan is dead.”

“Oh really? And what happens if I don’t give you what you’re demanding?”

“I found James Paguayan, Mr. Medukat. I will find you.” Reaching forward, I close the call before he can reply.

Milor glances at the phone, then at me, as the car goes silent.

“What?” I demand. “Are you going to tell me I came on too strong?”

“No. Just surprised. You nailed the delivery.” he says. “Not a direct threat, but ominous and full of implications. Not sure how Medukat’s gonna take it, but I woulda respected it.”

“I don’t need his respect; I need his compliance.” I say, reclining my chair a little. “I sent you the picture I took of the estate, after we liquidated it. If you could forward that to Medukat and let him know that’s what’s left of Paguayan’s lodge, I’d appreciate that.”

“Yeah, I’ll get on that in just a sec.” Milor says. “I know you might not want to think about it right now, but what are you gonna do if Medukat doesn’t get us the information about the Daughters of Azra?”

“I will find him, like I told him I would. And he will not like it.” I reply, closing my eyes.

“Yeah, well, there’s a difference between saying you’re gonna do something, and actually formulating a plan to do it.” Milor points out. “I’m talking about concrete steps. Do you even have a plan for tracking him down, or are you just blowing smoke?”

“If he doesn’t give us what we want before the three days are up, I will be calling him again so he can explain why he has not done what I asked him to do. And when I do, I want Huck to be on hand so he can do a line trace while the call is active. How much do you think he will charge for something like that?” I ask.

Milor doesn’t answer right away. “…okay. Seems you have thought this through. More than I was expecting, at any rate.”

“I can be effective and methodical when properly motivated.”

“Clearly.” Milor remarks. “I’ll touch base with Huck once we’re back on the Drift. See if I can talk him into it, or if he insists on payment, I’ll get a quote from him. Which brings me to my next question: what’s our story when we get back to the Drift?”

“You’re asking me what we’re going to tell Lysanne and Dandy?”

“Unless you wanna tell ‘em the truth, but I don’t think they’ll react well to hearing you vaporized a lodge full of people.”

“That lodge contained a black market baron and his staff. I very much doubt that they will be missed by civil society.” I point out. “But I see your point. Lysanne and Dandy are not fans of summary execution, even for those which are guilty. We can tell them that we killed Paguayan in self-defense; it’s technically true, since he made the first move.”

“And then we fled the lodge, and in order to get something out of this trip, we parlayed that into a conversation with Medukat where we tried to pressure him into giving us intel on the Daughters of Azra.” Milor continues. “Basically just telling the truth, and leaving out certain parts of it that they wouldn’t like.”

“Eighty percent truth, twenty percent omission.” I agree.

“Alright. Yeah. I think I can handle that. Simple, straightforward, no lies involved.” Milor says. “Still feels kinda dirty, but we’re doin’ it for Kaya’s sake, so…”

“Precisely. We’re doing it for Kaya’s sake.” I concur, lacing my fingers together. We both fall silent with that, but I can still sense lingering uncertainty on the air as we cruise back along the road we took to get here. It’s a slippery slope, claiming you’re taking lives for the sake of someone else. Something that’s usually only said when you feel a need to justify doing something you know is wrong. It does make me uncomfortable, for a brief, fleeting moment, but then I remember the soft little murmurs Kayenta and I shared when she agreed to be my mate.

Her hands slide along the sheets, resting on my shoulders as she touches the tip of her nose to mine. “Fight for me.”

I nod quietly.

“Kill for me.” she murmurs.

“I already have.”

She smiles at that, her silver ears flicking. “Yes. You did.”

This wouldn’t be the first time I killed for her.

And it probably wouldn’t be the last, either.