Chapter 97 : Packages (Patreon)

Atop a relatively impressive building in the slums, in a much better state than its neighbors, was the office of the man who'd call himself the number one expert in runes this side of the country. Whether that title was true was questionable, but what was certain was that no one in Zalcien could ever hope to rival Runar in that field.

For once the man of elven descent wasn't drinking tea or handling the mountain of paperwork on his desk. No, under the sunny sky of this beautiful day the man in a yellow three-piece suit and a blue tie was simply taking in the sight of the package in front of him. It wasn't anything particularly impressive, a mere box wrapped in brown paper with a few differently colored stamps on it, roughly the size of his torso. Runar idly scratched at his grey beard, his long equally grey hair barely affected by the gentle breeze that blew that day.

As steps echoed up the stairs to reach the roof, he closed his pale blue eyes and took in a deep breath before sighing just as the door opened and a knight in plain golden armor approached his desk, the metal of the armor and the hilts of the sword and dagger he carried clinking as he carried a tray with a teacup on it with little to no grace, the porcelain container nearly falling off multiple times. Runar didn't even bother to open his eyes to address the newcomer.

"You are late, Pierce Evil."

"My apologies my lord, but armors are ill-suited for menial tasks such as carrying tea up multiple flights of stairs."

"Yet Karadok manages, Pierce Evil. You would benefit from learning from your senior."

The blonde man huffed behind his helm, and Runar's pointy ears lightly twitched as they caught the sound, but there was no need to act on it. Workers disliking tasks was to be expected, and so long as they didn't cause trouble there was no problem. Still, this one was a special case.

Runar finally opened his eyes as he picked the teacup off the tray, and he noticed the way his Runarian knight's head was slightly turned to the side and his torso slightly bent forward, and thanks to his runic contact lenses he could see through the darkness of the brass helmet the eyes of his subordinate fixated on the package on his desk.

"That was genuine advice, Pierce Evil. Karadok has a lot of experience, there is a reason why I trust him to handle so much of this little venture. He not only has the brain to manage large-scale operations but also the brawn to defend himself. My only regret is that he lacks the talent for magic and runes."

"If you say so, my lord. Say, this wouldn't happen to be-"

"Your new enchanted armor? No, it isn't completed yet, and it won't be for a few more weeks. And before you ask, to get the best out of its enchantments they need to be done at the same time, so no, you can't take 'what's already done' until the rest is finished."

"My lord, I wouldn't be so foolish as to think this could contain an entire suit of armor. I know you wouldn't bother to apply space runes to a mere package. No, I wanted to ask if this was related to Karadok's... Commission."

The disgust in Pierce Evil's last word was barely hidden, and it was understandable. The common man had every right to despise and fear and be repulsed by the Patcher's work, but those in power knew better. Just as runes were a science and an art, so were the paria's creations. That, and the man had talents beyond creating horrors that went against the laws of nature.

"No, the Patcher cares too much about his little projects to send their parts away. From what Karadok told me, he will instead give his creature the ability to expose its bones, so that we may work on it at our leisure here. No, this is... Something I didn't expect."

"You haven't opened it yet, my lord."

"Runic lenses, I do not need to open it to see what's inside."

"Why don't we have those?"

"Tristare does, the rest of you don't because they are very expensive to make and you don't need them for the jobs you are tasked with."

The golden knight rolled his eyes, to be expected considering his relationship with the intelligence-focused knight. The two rarely saw eye to eye. Truth be told, Pierce Evil didn't get along with any of the other Runarian knights, bar maybe Speareau, and even then their relationship was simply that of coworkers, not friends. The only thing that justified the duellist's place in this elite group was his fighting skills, but with his latest stunt and current attitude, it grew more and more obvious that wouldn't suffice for much longer. Truly, only the man himself had failed to realize this.

"So, what's inside, my lord? What could possibly unsettle you so?"

For a brief moment, as he took a sip of his tea, Runar considered telling his subordinate to just get out of there and leave him alone. However, he saw an opportunity to teach this loyal yet unruly knight a lesson. A reminder of his place in the food chain, and his true worth.

"This package, my dear Pierce Evil, comes from the Arthen estate. Ever since my choice of career and tutelage under my master, my family had cut all ties, hence why receiving anything from them is a surprise."

"I understand, my lord. But what does it contain?"

Memories flashed in Runar's mind, and he closed his eyes to better reminisce on this bittersweet past.

"The remains of the first Runarian knights."

The pointed ears of the crime boss caught the way the knight in brass armor's heartbeat suddenly accelerated.

"... Pardon me, my lord?"

"It is tradition for each child of the Arthen family to have an order of knights at their command, with the exact number going higher and higher as they rack up achievements. In this package are the urns containing the ashes of my first four knights, those who watched me grow into adulthood and raised me more than my parents ever did. Karadok, Worsen, Gowine, Gwalchaved, and Hunbaut."

His eyes still closed, Runar passed his free hand over the packaging paper.

"Five great men, above and beyond what any of these ruffians in this accursed city could ever hope to be. Even the Karadok you know, for all his talents, has yet to reach his granduncle's level. I wouldn't go as far as to say any of them would have been able to fell Sunburn, but they without a doubt would have ensured those old leeches from Wicked Witchcraft wouldn't dare exile me like this."

"What happened, then?"

Runar's eyes opened at once.

"They met their better."

He rose from his leather seat and stepped up to Pierce Evil.

"As great as they were, they were nothing compared to some of the monsters that roam this world. Monsters too preoccupied with things that truly matter to care about this miserable pile of stone and metal you call home. Sunburn is the closest thing you could compare them to, so picture that in your mind. Places where people like him are not the top dogs, just henchmen doing grunt work."

He took one last sip of his tea to empty before putting the empty cup back on its plate on the tray the knight carried.

"You are capable, Pierre, but your talent with a sword doesn't mean a thing if you do not have the brain to know which fights to pick. Learn when to give up, when to be subservient to those that can destroy you on a whim. Don't let your pride kill you."

The knight in his golden brass armor stayed silent before bowing slightly.

"I will leave you to your work, my lord."

Without waiting for an answer Pierce Evil turned around and walked away, disappearing from Runar's view as he went down the stairs to his office. The elvish man sighed, giving up all hope of keeping the rash knight as a long-term subordinate, before returning to his seat and finally opening the package, brown paper burning away at the press of a hidden rune to reveal a simple wooden box, kept closed with a strange steel contraption, a locket with no lock or apparent mechanism. An old family trick, Runar flicked his wrist to reveal a small needle hidden in his right sleeve, he quickly pricked his left ring finger on it, a drop of blood emerging from the rupture in his skin, a drop which he quickly pressed onto the locket, the steel immediately splitting in two and the lid of the box propping open immediately, almost flying off. Another trick, meant to distract anyone who could be holding an Arthen hostage and forcing them to open a lock against their will.

Within, embedded in enchanted red velvet, were the five silver urns he had commissioned years ago, each engraved with its knight's figure and accomplishments. In the middle, close to the locket, where a sixth urn would have been, was instead a square paper with a few words, written in his sister's beautiful cursive style with golden ink.

We are renovating the family crypt. Since you won't be using your spot, you can have those back.

He began to move his hand to touch the closest one, depicting an orc with a massive claymore, but at the last moment, he couldn't bring himself to touch the cold metal. He stared in silence at those ash-filled containers for a long minute before he pressed another hidden rune on his desk, this one locking the door to his office and blurring the magical shield that preserved the roof from the elements, turning it into a proper room for once.

Isolated from the world, Runar finally allowed himself to shed a tear, in memory of those that had been killed for their loyalty to him. The fools that had dared to duel his father's knights in the hope they could win back his position in the family.

"Glory to thine blades, valiant knights."

The wood of the desk beneath his face became wetter and wetter.

With a hit of his knee against the desk's underside, a bottle of dark green glass emerged from a hidden compartment beneath the floor.

He needed something stronger than tea right now.

_____

Maurice, Dak, and G, the trio of scouts from the police department in charge of keeping an eye on the slums and preventing its horrors from spreading to the rest of the city, were back on a building's roof, this time with no makeshift camp, to observe the newcomer known as Silhouette. They hadn't missed his little show the other day when he did his recruiting stunt. People that are resistant to bullets weren't as rare as one might think, but straight-up immunity? That was a trick usually reserved for the big players, or the mercenaries that worked for them. In both cases, that was Super territory. This and his little shop made the shadowy man a very curious and interesting actor, and although he was still low on the list of people who could cause trouble, their direct boss had quickly become as intrigued as them, and from what they said, pondered making him a priority subject to her higher-ups.

As was most common, Maurice was in charge of keeping an eye on the warehouse and its surroundings, but unlike their initial operation, G and Dak weren't filling paperwork or sudokus this time. They too were on the lookout, watching out for any possible shenanigans that might pop up.

"Maurice-"

"Nothing so far, Dak."

"You know he'd warn us otherwise, Dak."

"Sorry G, I'm just a little tense about the weird shadow man who could be watching us right now."

G was very tempted to roll his eyes at the tall woman's worries, but not only would it stop him from watching over his surroundings, a tiny, very faint part of him sort of emphasized with her. Not that he would admit it.

"Stop your paranoia, Maurice could tell anyway."

"I couldn't, actually. If he sneaked by, I wouldn't know until he acted, and even then I could miss it."

G groaned at that.

"Please, don't say that while I'm trying to be reassuring."

Maurice shrugged while still holding his binoculars to his eyes.

"Accurate data is better than feeling safe. If anything, being on edge keeps you focused and keeps you from growing complacent."

"You heard him, G. Mister tentacles could be under our feet and we wouldn't know."

"Yeah, I caught that, Dak."

Sensing his colleagues' stress, Maurice decided to give them something.

"Even if he were listening, the chances of him attacking us are low. It wouldn't line up with how he acted so far. As far as we know, Silhouette has never started a fight. He only finishes them. And judging by how his employees are treated, I'd extrapolate that he's rather tolerant, even generous. He also has the brains not to antagonize an official city organization. Someone like him should know that attacking the police would put him on lists he'd rather not be."

"He still made an enemy out of Runar, that's not very smart."

The short man with the future vision grunted in acknowledgment of Dak's words.

"Which is why we're here, to know what kind of person he truly is, to check if we should consider him a threat in the making or a potential ally here. My analysis could be flawed, and in truth, he could be a complete idiot with murderous tendencies but excellent acting. Which is why collecting data is important."

G was about to respond when he noticed unusual movement.

"Runar goon incoming, holding a package of sorts."

The other two were tempted to turn around, but if they did it would ruin their triangular disposition to see as much as they collectively could. Maurice did speak out, however.

"I see him."

It was only two seconds later that the thug left G's view, but the trio had gotten used to coordinating with Maurice's future vision.

"Anything interesting to report?"

"He's knocking. He just dropped the package and began running."

His eyes widened behind his mask.

"Explosion incoming."