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Chapter 5: A Little Get Together

  Hector smiled as he approached the fountain, his gaze drawn to the cascade of ginger hair that seemed to catch every stray beam of light. Lincoln was right. Jodie could be spotted from almost anywhere—as long as she wasn’t in a room filled with Mana Ignition cultivators with fire affinity—but the Great Families were more likely to collapse before something like that happened.

  He weaved through the crowd following behind Lincoln, and as he got closer to the fountain, he spotted Marcus a few feet away from Jodie. Marcus’s long brown hair was tied up in the usual bun, and he wore the raggedy set of clothes he liked to call a suit.

  Hector had often asked him why he wore it, and Marcus claimed it made travelling in the area closer to the centre of Middlec easier as the guards thought he was a roughed-up noble. But he never would say what he was doing near central Middlec—it no doubt had something to do with his father’s business.

  “Oh, and there’s Emela and Nyx,” Lincoln said, drawing Hector’s attention to the two girls.

  Emela sat on the fountain’s marble edge, absentmindedly combing her fingers through her long blonde hair. Her main attention seemed to be on something on her brown breeches. Hector couldn’t make it out. But a moment later she frowned and flicked at something on her poorly chosen white tunic.

  Hector did not understand how anyone from the slums could wear white. He glanced at Lincoln—the prime example. Anything the boy wore would be covered in dirt by the end of the day. Hector would often see Lincoln come back with a bruise—no doubt from his mother, furious at his treatment of his belongings.

  But somehow Emela had always kept her clothing clean; it was rather impressive. Beside Emela stood the ever-reserved Nyx, sporting the usual black bob. Unlike Emela, she preferred to wear black. Black tunic, black waistcoat, and black leather pants—if she had dirt on her, they wouldn’t know.

  System scan all of them.

  ————————————————

  ///: No talent found...///: No talent found...///: No talent found...

  ————————————————

  ————————————————

  ///: Talent found: [Freezing Touch[?○○] (1/3)]

  ————————————————

  Well, damn. Emela has a Talent. I knew there was something special about her. How come she’s never said anything?

  “Hey guys,” Hector said, sliding his hands into his trousers’ pockets.

  “Hector,” Marcus said, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I take it you are just coming back from the dump?”

  Hector took his hand and gave it a firm shake as he nodded at the others. “Yeah, got into a little spat with Adrian, but—”

  “It was a bit more than a spat,” Lincoln said. “You would have thought Hector was trying to kill him.”

  Hector frowned at Lincoln. Did he have to over-blow it? Sure, he had pummeled Adrian pretty badly, but he’d be fine—as long as they got up before the birds got to them, it was nothing more than a spat.

  “Are you okay, Hector?” Emela said, crossing one leg over the other as she reclined on the fountain’s edge. “I don’t go to the dump much anymore, but I remember Adrian being quite the brute.”

  “I—”

  “He’s more than okay. He laid Adrian out flat,” Lincoln said, nudging Hector’s arm. “You should have seen it. One punch sent Adrian to the floor, and then this beast climbed on top and started destroying his face.”

  Hector scratched his cheek and found an unusual interest in the ground. He hadn’t intended to go that far with Adrian; he just snapped.

  “That doesn’t sound like Hector,” Marcus said, resting a finger on his chin. “Now if you said Jodie, I could see that.”

  “You trying to take a swim?” Jodie said, stepping over to Marcus and gripping his shoulder. “I’ve been practicing my throws recently, and I’m eager to try them out.”

  “Calm down, both of you,” Emela said, brushing her breeches and turning to Nyx. “Do you have my comb on you?”

  Nyx nodded, reached into her leather trousers, and pulled out a black comb. “Here.”

  Hector glanced at the comb and then shook his head. For some reason, Nyx acted almost as if she was Emela’s shadow. She would trail behind her and do what she said when she said it. It wasn’t abusive at all; it was just strange. But they both seemed happy with the relationship.

  “Anyway,” Hector said, gesturing for Jodie and Marcus to sit. “I have something serious to talk about.”

  “Something the matter?” Jodie asked, brushing her ginger hair aside. “If it’s another fight, I don’t mind jumping in. As I said, I’ve been working on my throws.”

  Hector sighed. Jodie always seemed ready to go at it; it was no wonder she had such good battle-sense. “No, nothing like that... Well, not yet anyway,” Hector said, throwing a glance around the square. While the Collar Gang was strong, that was only in certain parts of the slums, but it could never hurt to be careful. “My family is in trouble with the Collar Gang.”

  “Trouble?” Marcus asked, leaning against the fountain’s edge and shoving his hands into his suit pockets. “What kind of trouble?”

  “They attacked my dad this morning and demanded that he pay a debt.”

  “By the Great Lake, I’m sorry to hear that,” Emela said, leaning in. “Is he okay?”

  “Yeah, he was okay when I left. But he did not want to tell me how much he owes to the gang. I can’t figure out what’s wrong with him,” Hector said, running his hands through his hair.

  “He probably just wants to keep you safe, you know,” Marcus said. “I mean, my dad keeps things from me all the time. But I know it’s because he thinks I’m not ready to hear them.”

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  Lincoln chuckled. “No offense, Marcus, but I would keep things from you too.”

  “What’s that meant to mean?” Marcus asked with a frown.

  “Never mind that. I need your help, guys,” Hector said. He didn’t need this conversation going off-topic. Not now.

  Lincoln scoffed and rested a hand on Hector’s shoulder, his fingers drumming with barely contained energy. “I’ve told him that we should hit up one of the farms. I’ve recently learned where they keep their profits. We break in and take what we need.”

  “You agreed to this, Hector?” Emela asked, her frown deepening the shadows that played across her face. She crossed her arms and looked between Lincoln and him, her gaze sharp as winter frost. “I would advise against it. While not a strong connection, everyone knows the Glademoors have some stake in all the farms in the city.”

  Nyx leaned down to Emela and whispered into her ear, her black-clad form a shadow against Emela’s pristine white, then returned to her position, leaving Emela with a contemplative frown.

  “At the very least, those who pay more attention to what’s going on around them would know this,” Emela said, looking pointedly at Lincoln, her words carrying the weight of unspoken knowledge.

  “Yeah...” Jodie said, her ginger hair catching the late afternoon light as she glanced between Emela and Lincoln. “I’m not exactly keen on breaking into a farm and attacking some innocents. And I love fighting.” She then focused on Hector, her gaze softening. “Besides, that’s a situation where we put ourselves at risk, just for you.”

  “Jodie,” Marcus hissed, his raggedy suit rustling as he shifted uncomfortably.

  “Hold on,” Jodie said, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “I love each and every one of you guys, but what you’re suggesting, Hector, is incredibly reckless.”

  “I know, and that’s why I haven’t agreed to it,” Hector said, as he started to pace up and down, his footsteps echoing against the worn stones of the plaza. “It was more of a last-resort kind of thing. I wanted to come to you guys and see if you could help me figure something out.”

  “I’m more than happy to help,” Marcus said, his voice carrying the steady reliability that had become his trademark.

  Hector smiled and gave him a nod—Marcus was always dependable like that. Among the group, he probably had the most patience, a virtue that Hector deeply admired.

  “Okay, I’ll help,” Jodie said, pushing off the fountain with fluid grace. “But what we do has to benefit everyone here. As I said, I love you, but everyone needs to be invested in this. Hell, I have some debts I need paid as well.”

  The plaza hummed with the ambient sounds of commerce and life as Hector frowned but nodded. Jodie’s words rang true—he wasn’t the only one wrestling with the weight of survival in these harsh streets. If they could all benefit from any group action, it would be for the best. He wouldn’t just be using his friends. “So does anyone have any ideas?” Hector asked, his voice barely carrying over the market’s drone.

  Silence passed through the group, the sounds of the shoppers in The Plaza and the sellers hawking their wares filling the air with a tapestry of urban life.

  “Just pick-pocket,” Nyx said.

  The group turned to her, but she looked blankly back at them.

  “That’s actually not a bad idea,” Lincoln said, his eyes lighting up with possibility. “Especially with the Hida’s festival coming up. There will probably be a bunch of nobles just walking around, waiting for their fat pockets to be picked.”

  “But isn’t that festival going to be crammed with Middlec Guards and a few of the Phoenix Company mercenaries?” Marcus asked, glancing between everyone, his anxiety visible in every movement. “Doesn’t that just make it all harder?”

  “I agree,” Jodie said.

  “It could work,” Emela said, studying her nails with practiced nonchalance that belied the sharp calculation in her eyes. “If I recall correctly, isn’t your father running a stall at that festival, Marcus?”

  “Yeah, he is...”

  “So we can use that as a base camp,” Emela said, her words measured and precise. “We will run the pick-pocketing operation from there. That way, we won’t have to move past the perimeter guard, and we’ll have a cover job.”

  “You want to help my dad out at the festival?”

  “No, you idiot,” Jodie said, smacking Marcus across his head. “She wants to use working with your dad as a disguise to pickpocket the nobles at the festival.”

  “Oh, I see. But I don’t think my dad would allow us to do that,” Marcus said, fidgeting with his hands.

  “Are you planning on telling him what we’re going to do?” Jodie asked, her smile taking on a predatory edge.

  “No?”

  Jodie’s smile widened as she patted Marcus on the shoulder. “Then I don’t see the problem.”

  Emela watched as Nyx jumped down off the fence, her movements as fluid as a shadow across water. Having spent a good half an hour winding through the alleys, they were coming to the end of their journey for the day. Emela’s thoughts drifted back to when she first entered the slums, searching for her lost heirloom.

  The memory was made all the more poignant by the fact that she had to go to the disgusting dump to search for it. Though she had met Hector and her new friends then, so it had been worth the sacrifice.

  “Are you alright, mistress?” Nyx said, her dark eyes tracking the movement of someone closing their shutter window—no doubt retiring for the night.

  “All is well. I am just thinking back to the past.”

  “Do you mean when we first came to the slums? I remember telling you it was a mistake. I’m glad to have been mistaken,” Nyx moved past Emela, walking further into the alleyway and bending down to a sewer grate. “Are you ready, mistress?”

  I am never ready to set foot in that blasted sewer. Sometimes I wish I could leave the slums normally after splitting up with everyone. But I guess it’s still too risky.

  Frowning, Emela sighed. For the last few months, she had been searching for a better way to enter the slums discreetly but had had no luck—it was as if the heavens wanted her to dirty herself. She pinched the edge of her white tunic and shook her head.

  She would need to use another warding talisman. They weren’t expensive—at least not for her—though her friends in the slums would probably say otherwise. Even Marcus, whose father owned a talisman store.

  “Mistress?” Nyx tilted her head and raised an eyebrow, her black bob catching the dim light. “Are you coming? It’s getting late, and we may miss our opportunity to get back unseen.”

  Nodding, Emela strode over and stood at the edge of the sewer grate. Nyx popped it off with little effort—not surprising considering she had firmly established herself in the fourth realm of gravity forging.

  She then looked up at Emela, “Your turn, mistress.”

  “I suppose.” Emela stepped to the edge of the sewer hole and sighed. She drew upon the mana in her body as she leapt into the hole. The smell of unspeakable things hit her nostrils, their rot threatening to consume her. She popped a warding talisman in her pocket, causing a thin blue membrane to cover her body. The mana she had channeled entered her feet and, before she could touch the disgusting sewer water, it froze around her.

  “Nyx, it’s okay to come down now,” Emela said, glancing up through the hole.

  “Yes, mistress.” Nyx leapt into the hole and landed to the side of Emela. The clang of the sewer grate sounded seconds later.

  “You do time those throws excellently, Nyx. Though I do worry you will miss one day.”

  Nyx shrugged. “And if I do, I can just jump back up and correct it.”

  Emela nodded, then walked deeper into the sewer. Every time she made it to the edge of the frozen area she created—typically expanding the length of her wardrobe door—her next step would create a new one. She did this three times before reaching their exit grate. In many ways, the sewer would be both a curse and a boon.

  A boon because it let her practice her family’s inborn ability, and a curse because it cost a warding talisman each time she entered the dreadful place.

  “Shall I?” Nyx said, stepping next to Emela.

  “You know the drill. I’m not doing it.” Emela crossed her arms and stepped out of the way, waiting for Nyx to pop open the sewer grate above.

  Nyx nodded and stepped forward. She lunged upwards, striking the grate with her palm, knocking it into the air. Before landing back on the ice, and bouncing back up, shooting out after it.

  “Show off,” Emela said with a chuckle, leaping out of the sewer and into the alleyway above.

  The two girls then left the alleyway and headed deeper into the clean streets of central Middlec. The streets were paved with polished marble, creating pristine pathways to the finely constructed houses. The golden lampposts washed the area in their subtle warmth, filling the atmosphere with comfort—it was a far cry from the rundown Hilda square with its disrepair’d fountain.

  The two stuck to the shadows as they looked out onto the street.

  “Now, the hard part,” Nyx said.

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