Chapter Text
A new mission means additional paperwork and that requires returning to the London branch to receive it. The stack Schneider got back in Gloucestershire was a mere briefing informing her about the oncoming task along with a report on the results of her previous fieldwork. All the arcanists are successfully registered and will undergo training while the human perpetrators get handed over to human law enforcements.
For this, Vertin’s glad.
They arrive back in London on a rainy day. To England, downpours are common daily weather but Vertin marks each day it happens at what time; trying to detect a pattern. The Storm is a phenomenon signaled by upcoming rain, it has a distinct feeling of electrically charged arcanum in the air that they remember vividly back then. But they can’t help being cautious and never leave out the slight possibility of anything related to it.
Vertin watches Schneider go through the process of acquiring her next field mission; only being there for moral support in most eyes, more keener ones would know better. The Timekeeper’s role is new, but the general duty of theirs is unengaging and purely observational. Vertin is clearly there because the brunette is and will likely be reported to the Foundation.
Will it affect the missions they give them and Schneider in the future? They couldn’t help feeling uneasy.
The brunette accepts the papers with a smile, unfazed by the many implications surrounding their circumstances. Vertin grew to perceive her behavior over the one month break. Just as well as they’d assume the adults would. They came to find out that the Italian hides well, but still lacks polish. One of them being how her eyes linger too long on a certain object when she’s wary or how the edge of her mouth quirks up subtly to express disdain. At the complicated wording of the report papers. The papers she couldn’t read.
On their way out of the building, they keep a respectable distance from each other, aware of prying eyes observing the two children heading out for a job meant for someone older and more experienced. It’s only when they reach Carnaby Street where it’s more crowded that Vertin dares move closer to Schneider, peeking at the documents in her hands.
“Can I have a look?”
Schneider never openly mentioned her struggles with reading. From what Vertin has observed, she’s not illiterate; just lacking in vocabulary. It reminded them that English isn’t the brunette’s first language and they didn’t know how that slipped their mind when she taught them a new Italian word or phrase each night through stories and nursery rhymes. Their life raised under the Foundation has led them to believe that although they have distinct nationalities, everyone naturally spoke English. Vertin needs to be better at noticing others' struggles and find a way to help when they can. Especially their friends.
“Nosy as usual, My Lord?” Her smile speaks for itself, she already caught on to Vertin’s subtle aids and didn’t shy away from it. Instead, she moves the papers closer for them to view, fanning the stack out like cards. “Well, you are joining me anyway. Might as well be familiar with the mission too.”
This is the way Schneider has eluded them about her issue for so long. She’s resourceful and cunning, finding ways to receive help without asking. Through subtle gestures and sneaky actions disguised as playful coaxing. Like the times she’d ask Vertin if a particular segment of a book she’s reading fascinates them, inciting them to read the passage outloud and start a discussion about it. Or how the brunette egged Daniel into writing an entire formal letter with better synonyms than her knowledge can provide by playfully teasing his general appearance not instilling a sense of “city gentleman” to her.
Vertin remembers her silhouette late one night. How she struggled to understand the words written dozens of times by her, mimicking them until it’s a perfect copy in her own handwriting. Dawn breaks and Vertin lets that secret settle in their heart. They all have a battle they want to fight on their own; whether it’s out of pride or distaste at the thought of being looked down upon for one’s lack of skill. Vertin wants to help her without touching the wound.
So they’ll play along. For her.
“Another rescue operation.” Vertin reads through the wordy expletives of the document to get the jist of the report.
An accident will happen in the evening within the structural clocktower known as Big Ben. A small maintenance group of arcanists are hired to clean the mechanism keeping the clock and chimes running for the first time in the past decade. The snow damage it sustained in the 1960s is far beyond the capabilities of this era’s human technology can maintain, so they resorted to accepting archaic alternatives in secret. This coincidence of the first group of arcanists hired to work on a government sanctioned task in a while being targeted is riddled with undertones of sabotage, but political conspiracies wasn’t the goal. The task is to rescue and secure the arcanists for recruitment.
“Are they assigning this to you alone again?”
Vertin found it strange the moment they learned from Madam Z about Schneider’s role being no different from the Foundation’s investigative unit. Under most circumstances, a squad will be dispatched for fieldwork requiring the rescue and retrieval of civilians under a pressing situation. It’s only when detective work and reconnaissance will they work in smaller numbers or even alone.
Are they purposely assigning solo roles for her to fail?
“It’s another interception mission like last time, yes?” Schneider tucks the documents away safely, giving Vertin a smile. “Then it should be no problem. We have done it before after all.”
“Yes, but…” They hesitate for a moment, looking around to make sure they’re an acceptable distance to be discussing things any further. “That time, we’re only dealing with humans taking arcanists hostage.”
Thinking back on it after everything was over, Vertin realizes just how badly it could’ve gone with just the two of them. Had it not been for the main perpetrators actually being humans forcing arcanists to work for them, how could they have stopped a large group like that when their skills are lacking? Schneider may have knowledge in combat with guns from her past, but it would only go so far in the arcane battlefield.
They’re way in over their head with this.
“What if this time it’ll be a group of arcanists? Or just people that know how to use arcane tools to their advantage.” Vertin frowns in worry, “The possibility is there. We can’t just go in without a plan.”
“Who says we are?” The brunette raises an eyebrow, casually brushing her hair to the side. She looks contemplative with her eyes glancing away like she’s not bothered by the situation at all. It unsettles Vertin how much she’s playing things off as child’s play. “Even I know not to dive into a dangerous situation head first, My Lord. If we think about a baseline plan, then it’s simple. We do our job.
And my duty, first and foremost, is to be your guns, My Lord.”
Duty. Right. It’s something they both know they can’t escape from under the eyes of the Foundation. What role they’ve been placed under is curated for them and them alone at the cost of others. Vertin doesn’t want any more examples happening, neither does Schneider. But they can’t help thinking it’s a cruel joke. To have their only surviving friend risk her life to protect them. They have to keep reminding themself of this fact.
Vertin feels so helpless.
“My Lord.” Schneider’s smile turns into a knowing smirk. Sharp and rough around the edges, full of mockery. But not at Vertin. “This is my own will.”
Their jaw clenches subconsciously and their eyes turn downcast. They couldn’t bear to look into her scarlet gaze that so willingly accepted her position.
“I know.”
Even if she’s okay with this, it doesn't mean Vertin is. But they’re helpless to stop her and why should they stop her own personal wishes. They can only hope she’ll be safe and okay. No.
Vertin will do anything in their power to ensure Schneider’s safety.
They have to.
And that begins with forming contingency plans for the mission, but they can’t do that in broad daylight. So their next course of action should be settling down some place to prepare for this mission. They continue down the dreary streets of London, conversing more casually to ease the weight of responsibilities before the time to initiate their task.
“According to Madam Z, there’s a few places we can go this time around that’ll help our travel route. She’s also set up larger finances for us while on this trip.” Vertin muses about their current options when something at the corner of their eye caught their attention.
At a small alleyway far from the pressing crowd, a dim glimmer is emitted by something small and dark. Vertin has to crane their neck to focus past the constantly moving crowd to see what it is. It’s a carbuncle underneath an umbrella. Around its round fuzzy body is a cardboard sign attached to a wire and bell that chimes each time it bounced. Despite the noise it made, only a few pedestrians would glance at it and even fewer entertained it by entering the alleyway.
Could it be…?
They’ve heard of arcanist shops in their time outside being quite recluse or blatantly obvious depending on the location. Back in Gloucestershire, with the deep prejudice running rampant, the amount of arcane stores are next to non-existent. The uniquely human runned arcanist store Daniel’s family owns is the only exception. This would officially be Vertin’s first time witnessing an advert for a potentially arcanist runned arcane store. Not that it matters who runs the shop, but they’re curious of the differences in products and services they have to offer.
“Is something the matter, My Lord?” Schneider’s face comes to view, her eyebrows raised curiously. Vertin’s sure their companion would be delighted to experience it as well.
“I see a carbuncle over there advertising an arcane shop in the alley.” Vertin points out, “Shall we go check it out?”
The brunette freezes upon glancing over to where they mentioned the critter stood. Something about her reaction felt off to Vertin, but they weren’t allowed to dwell on it as she started pulling them towards that direction. Relief fills them at the sight of Schneider’s eyes sparkling with great awe and fascination.
Maybe they were observing things wrong.
Stepping into the alley, the two girls crouch down in front of the carbuncle wrapped in the sign. It hops up excitedly, making the bell jingle with glee. They felt the brunette next to them flinch lightly, but didn’t comment on it. It must be her first time seeing a friendly carbuncle compared to its rather volatile cousin. Vertin’s fascinated by them too as they seem more intelligent comparatively. The sign around its body has words written crudely by crayon or chalk with poor grammar stating:
“Pawstee’z Arc-Cane Atewier”
The two look at each other in confusion. Was it really an arcane shop? Surely it might be, given that a carbuncle involved itself in advertising it. Vertin looks back down at the creature, its eyes wide and hopeful. They almost felt bad for it. After all, it’s doing its best to attract customers in this weather. Looking back at their companion, Schneider returns the gaze with a smile. Well, they were already here…
“The sign just points toward the alleyway. So the shop must be down this path.” As if answering their rumination, the carbuncle nods instantly, making the bell jingle. “Alright, let’s see where this leads us.”
“Wherever you wish to go, My Lord, I will follow.”
It’s a fairly normal alleyway going in. Narrow enough for two grown adults to walk side by side, even more so for two small girls. Vertin notices how oddly stretched the path goes with no end in sight and that’s when they finally feel the odd arcane energy surrounding the place. It’s some kind of spell warping their perception of its length, or rather, how short it’s supposed to be. It’s only further confirmed when Schneider stops completely.
“We’ve hit a dead end, My Lord.”
Vertin turns to her, seeing the confusion in her eyes. They look back at the alleyway that went further in and then at their companion. Something clicks. It’s to keep humans out. Of course it’s rare to find arcane shops in a bustling human society when chances of vandalization are always possible. What better way to hide it than with arcane skill. Although that makes them wonder who’s skill is protecting this shop. Now Vertin’s really eager to explore.
“It’s not a dead end, but an illusion to keep others out.” Vertin assures, offering out their hand. “Come, Schneider. Let’s press forward.”
“Yes, My Lord.” Without hesitation, Schneider takes their hand. A gentle warmth fills their chest at her unwavering trust in them. They’ll never let her down.
Carefully guiding her by the hand, Vertin keeps watch of Schneider with every step they take. They can see her eyes shake with mixed emotions from seeing something else that’s never meant to be there. Then, she closes her eyes. Her body instantly relaxes and lets herself fully be led by Vertin alone. Their heart pounds with complex emotions at the display, her willingness to place her entirety in their hands. It leaves them shaken. They pass the barrier of illusion; hand in hand. Only when Vertin squeezes her palm does the brunette allow herself to open her eyes.
They both stood there in amazement.
It wasn’t just a store, but an entire shopping district. An alleyway lined with stalls and shops alike, signs framing brick walls with unique writing familiar yet not. The sky along the long road is covered by colorful levitating umbrellas to block the rain as a decent crowd wanders around and peruses the wares. Critters, Beasts, and…
Arcanists. They’re all arcanists.
"È Incredibile…"
The wide eyed look of amazement on their friend only bolsters the excitement in Vertin and they squeeze her hand again. Schneider offers a blinding smile far more genuine than all the others she’s had in months. It’s like they’re finally seeing the world together. Share each other's world together. It’s Vertin’s turn to offer Schneider a wonderful experience of the sights unknown.
The world of arcanists.
All the floating umbrellas above provide ample cover that they’re allowed to put their own away. From the looks of it, the alleyway stretches along the span of the entirety of Carnaby street. Vertin wouldn’t be surprised to find out that every alleway in London secretly has an incantation to hide the connection to this arcane shopping district. So much to explore, but they only have time to check out one store.
“Come, let’s find the place that critter advertised.” Vertin guides her by their interlocked hands as they make their way down the bustling street. “We wouldn’t know of this place if it wasn’t for their bold advertising.”
With so many shops, it’s hard not to let their eyes wander, but Vertin kept them consistent while Schneider looked around in awe. Occasionally the brunette would go too far and their linked hands would tug each other, reminding her to return. The rare blush of embarrassment from her is appealing to Vertin. It shows her enthusiasm to find out more about their world.
It melts the insecurity that they didn’t know they have about the other. That even if Schneider didn’t hate arcanists, she’d still be uninterested in their ways of living; what they could offer. It only bolsters their desire to show their friend all the fun and amazing things about the arcane community. Ones not hindered by boring lectures that drone on forever.
Their search takes them deeper down the streets, passing by about a dozen stores on the way. It didn’t take Vertin long to notice the occasional stares and murmurs passed by other pedestrians and shop owners, all of it directed at them. Specifically Schneider. Was the Foundation issued uniform too conspicuous? Vertin started to realize just how unwelcomed the Foundation’s presence is to certain areas. Maybe it’s because it always leads to trouble or a form of official business. Either way, it’s best to find the store soon and leave; they can come back at a better time.
Fortunately, they reached their desired shop just two blocks down from where they entered the district. Vertin and Schneider looked at each other briefly as they stood in front of the shop’s entrance, the storefront’s display window proudly showcases its name emblazoned on its glass.
“It appears the critter was no mere volunteer, My Lord.”
“Indeed.”
There was no doubt about it. It’s a critter store. Or, more likely, a store run by critters. At least that’s what Vertin can gather from the dozens of furballs eagerly staring at them from the window panes, eyes gleaming and excited for them to enter. They almost feel bad for considering leaving and check out a different shop instead. Although a critter run establishment makes Vertin curious.
“Well, My Lord, shall we go in?” Schneider smiles, gently tugging their hand. “We’ve come all this way.”
“Sure.” Thinking about it again, the place might be a good start for Schneider. It’s less risky than fully delving deep into the unknown after all.
The store’s bell chimes upon their entrance and several of the critters flee from the display window in a hurry. Inside is larger than the petit storefront as a result of space manipulation, allowing more room for a sophisticated lounge. With fine wooden flooring to polished furniture and even metal fixtures hanging above, Vertin wouldn’t have thought it to be a place owned by critters.
Speaking of critters.
The reception desk is positioned right near the entrance against the far left wall. It’s a long oak countertop with an old fashioned cash register and an inkwell pot as its only decor. Behind the counter is a tall series of shelves that spans the length of the desk itself and nearly reaches the store’s roof in height. It’s filled to the brim with knick knacks of all sorts that Vertin never even knew existed.
And stationed just in front of the cash register is a carbuncle.
Vertin blinks. They had to make sure they weren’t mistaken, but their eyes were perfectly fine. Meaning that the carbuncle is truly wearing a suit and tophat. It’s fortunate that the lessons about critters and carbuncles are one of the few classes Vertin took an interest in learning since it’s become useful in that moment. What they remember about carbuncle types is that they’re a cousin to the common critter, but far more advanced in arcane evolution and intelligence even. So the owner of the store must be such a carbuncle.
Allowing Schneider to look around more, Vertin approaches the front desk to speak with the finely dressed creature. “Hello. Are you the store owner?”
“Faustee’s Atelier is Faustee’s, indeed!” The carbuncle squeaks, hopping up onto the countertop to reveal its extremely small stature. Looking more closely, its features look akin to a fox in Vertin’s opinion. They’re highly fascinated that they can speak human. “Welcome! Faustee sees two new ones! Not been here! Not been to Scarborough’s Faire!”
Vertin is confused. Scarborough’s Faire? Is that the name of the shopping district they’re in? It would be something to look into for later. So, for now, Vertin nods in agreement to the carbuncle’s strange statement.
“Yes, we are. We found out about the place through your store’s advertisement, in fact.” The information seems to please the owner as Faustee puffs up with pride. “I’d like to ask, what do you sell here? I’ve never seen a place run by so many critters.”
“Faustee sells all kinds! Lots kinds!” With a flourish, a walking cane appears in their paw behind a puff of smoke, its end pointed towards the shelf full of items behind them. “Items for critters, by critters, but not of critters! Faustee’s atelier offer critter friends delight! Sparkle pretty wonders too!”
A specialized store? Like any workshop, it seems. Vertin glances over at the objects on the shelves and back towards the items on the display window. Glittering accessories, toys, trinkets. All wrapped in luxurious velvet boxes and fine paper. Are all of them made by the critters? How fascinating.
“Do you sell any potions by any chance?” Vertin asks, a thought popping into their head. “Like ones that help communicate with critters.”
“Oh, a friend to critters, I see I see! Faustee knew at sight new people know best!” Faustee taps the countertop with their cane and a few critters pop out of nowhere to place a wooden box on the table. Inside contains three crystalline vials full of what's akin to liquid silver. “New item, fresh and clean! In the making, good to drink! But not perfect, still in making.”
“So it’s still being perfected?” Vertin gets permission first before taking one of the vials out of the box to inspect. The potion’s no larger than the length of their middle finger, its content shimmery and metallic. If it’s being sold, then chances are that its effects are consistent enough for commercial production. Is it safe for humans though?
“My Lord, what do you have there?”
Schneider walks back over to Vertin’s side, curiously eyeing the vial in their hand. They offer it to the brunette, but she only gives a wary smile after a perfunctory glance. They return it back into the box with the rest of the potions and actually consider purchasing it. While they have no use of the item itself as Timekeeper, it could be a fascinating side project in itself. The realm of critters are just as mysterious, after all.
“How much is it?”
“Are you asking me, My Lord? Shouldn’t you ask that to the store clerk once they arrive?”
Vertin looks at her in bewilderment. Something didn’t sit well with them about Schneider’s statement.
“In fact,” The brunette tilts her head slightly and the unease grows. They felt like they should stop her, but it was too late. “Maybe we shouldn’t touch such a precious product without anyone around? The critters are friendly, but it’s hard to know who runs the place among them.”
The realization sunk in and they glanced at the bristling carbuncle. Again, they’re reminded of the gap, that distance and their lack of consideration for their positions. How much of Vertin’s life is filled with selected information that they’d forgotten a common fact.
Humans can’t see carbuncles.
Something to do with the heightened arcanum they hold compared to lower ranked critters. The higher in strength or properties, the less likely they’ll be perceived by humans unless the creature’s powerful enough to maintain a physical form easier to understand. But by then, such a critter would be a lethal enemy rather than a harmless fellow. Though that’s the least of Vertin’s concerns at the moment.
“You!” Faustee points their cane at a clueless Schneider, “No see?! Not arcanist! No good! An ill bred!”
They couldn’t help physically flinch at that, earning Schneider’s visible concern. Vertin glances back and forth between the cursing carbuncle and their friend. They feel awful for being relieved at the fact the brunette couldn’t hear the scathing remarks directed at her that even rivaled the nasty comments of people back in Gloucestershire.
That relief is short lived though, since Schneider clearly caught on.
“My Lord.” Her smile squeezed at their chest painfully. Even in bad situations, she never stops smiling. “The clerk is here the whole time, aren’t they.”
It’s not a question, but a fact. Vertin has never found it hard to answer as much as that moment. A deep rooted sense of fear they couldn’t understand kept them from being honest with Schneider. Was this how it felt for her when they’re out in human society and forced to witness people talking badly about Vertin being an arcanist? But Schneider was also treated poorly because she’s pretending to be an arcanist. Is she pretending?
There’s a complex look to her face that Vertin’s desperate to understand. They hardly talked about their situation, too new to touch a scabbing wound. But they’d be lying if they haven’t wondered once what Schneider honestly thought about the fact she has to play pretend. It was simple back in the institution with an all-arcanist crowd. The outside exposes her to many more variables of treatment. A treatment she shouldn’t have to deal with if her true origin is known.
But now looking at the enraged carbuncle still throwing scathing remarks at her oblivious friend, Vertin doesn’t know anymore. If Schneider’s free to be open about being human, she can go back to human society but never be allowed to set foot in the deeper sides of the arcanist community. And if she were to keep acting she’s an arcanist, not only is she rejecting her origin, but she’ll have to make sure she’s not caught in a situation like this; else she’ll be shunned too. Either way, she has nowhere to go. All sides lead to a dead end.
“I’m sorry.” Schneider turns to bow her head apologetically towards the cash register, assuming the carbuncle to be there from Vertin’s constant glances. “I do not mean to offend you. I am a…special case, but it is no excuse. Please forgive my rudeness.”
“Schneider…”
“Humph! Human with tact!” Faustee fumes, turn their cane at Vertin next. “Dare bring human in! You bring trouble! Trouble to all!”
“S, sorry. I wasn’t aware this place doesn’t allow…” Vertin glances at Schneider, who still has her head down. Swallowing hard, they forced themself to admit it. “I wasn’t aware this place doesn’t accept…humans here.”
Schneider flinches.
“No good! No good!” The carbuncle stamps their feet, even the critters all around are starting to get agitated. “No human! Human must go! Rules are rules! No break Scarborough’s Faire’s rules!”
Scarborough’s Faire’s rules?
“Please, wait.” Vertin pleads, “You mean to say that it’s not your store’s intention to turn away humans, but the entire shopping district doesn’t allow humans?”
“No human, no break rule!” Faustee hops around, looking agitated. “We critters work hard! Establish shop! If found out, we get punish! No more shop! Hard work, gone! Human must go! Get human out!”
“I don’t understand…” They do, but they don’t want anyone to view Schneider of all people to be an ill intended human. She’s nothing like that at all! “Schneider isn’t–”
“It’s okay, My Lord.” Schneider tugs on their sleeve, her smile obviously forced to stay firmly in place. “I’ve intruded enough. I’ll find my way back out. You buy what you need and look around more.”
“Wait, Schneider–”
The brunette slips away before Vertin could stop her, the storefront’s bell chime signaling her departure. Everything fell silent and they felt nothing but cold. It’s a sickening feeling.
“...Faustee is too harsh. Poor girl.” The carbuncle squeaks sheepishly. “Too many bad words. Should not said any of it. Please understand Faustee. Faustee’s business help critters. Earn for critters. If rule broken, no more critters.”
“I understand.” Vertin murmurs, underlying resentment still swam in their chest. It’s a terrifyingly new feeling they didn’t know they could have, but not towards anyone in particular. Just their situation. “I won’t be buying anything, sorry. I need to catch up to my friend.”
“Before one goes, please.” Taking off their hat, a small jar is taken out from within. It’s full of candied oranges. Vertin’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. How… “Apology gift to poor girl. She smell of oranges, yes? So she must like oranges, yes?”
Something about the fact that others have also taken notice of Schneider’s scent bothers them. Nevertheless, Vertin accepts the jar and carefully inspects its content. It’s harmless enough and there’s nothing out of the ordinary. Then it must be safe for her to eat.
“I’ll leave then.”
“Please do buy next time!” The carbuncle waves, the rest of the critters hopping about. “We no harm! It only business!”
Vertin left without a word. They don’t hold it against them for turning Schneider away. If what the store owner says is true, then the one that truly has an issue is the arcanist that’s protecting the whole district with their arcane skill of concealment. Such a strong spell is no doubt possessed by a capable caster. Vertin can’t deny someone’s reasons and should respect their want for a peaceful place for arcanists that fear the presence of humans.
They still can't help feeling bitter.
Schneider wouldn’t have gone far. Despite her claims of waiting back where they entered, the brunette never goes too far out of Vertin’s sight or senses. Just as they predicted, they spot her a block down the stretch of the street. Her movements are a slow walk with her posture slumped, making her look even smaller. Vertin’s heart clenched when they spotted her subtly rubbing her face. They quicken their pace and no sooner are they by her side.
“Schneider.” She tilts her head up, but refuses to face them. Vertin frowns and chooses to brush it off for now in favor of showing her the jar. “Here, it’s for you. The store owner wants to apologize for their actions. It’s not that they want you to leave, but it’s the rule here.”
Even putting it gently sounds wrong. Whether it’s their rule or someone else’s, to comply is to partake in the act of exclusion. And right now, they’re excluding Schneider. It leaves an ill feeling in their stomach. Just when they wanted to show her their world…
“They’re too kind. Even though I was rude first.” Schneider’s smile is light, fragile. It has subtle warbles and twitches at the corners. Her eyes are redden at the edges. Vertin couldn’t tell if it’s due to having just cried or from trying hard not to. Neither was a good thing. “I’m sorry that I’ve inconvenienced you again, My Lord.”
“You’re not.” Vertin insists, their hold on the jar tightens. “It’s not your fault things are this way. You can’t…change who you are.”
“...You are right.” They felt ill. “I am no good.”
Did they say something wrong?
“That’s not…!!”
Their words are cut off by Schneider smacking her own cheeks. It startles them into confusion. The action must’ve done something for her as the brunette’s back to being her outwardly bright self, smile perfectly plastered on. Vertin’s frown deepens.
“Do you have anything else you’d like to see here, My Lord?” Schneider asks and begins walking ahead. “If so, take your time. Let’s meet back at the entrance, okay?”
Watching her retreating back, ever receding, always distant. Like being left behind; getting farther and farther from their reach. Vertin’s throat tightens. Desperately, they grab her wrist.
“Ah,” The brunette jolts, looking at them in confusion. With a well put together expression. It makes things worse. “My Lord?”
“We’re leaving, Schneider.”
Red eyes narrow and her smile holds an edge, yet it’s still not genuine. Vertin unconsciously squeezes her wrists to get a reaction. Her expression falters from the pain. They immediately regret it, loosening their hold, almost letting go. It’s overwhelming them. Whatever it was.
“Are you sure, My Lord? You don’t have to cut this trip short at my expense.” Vertin always feels exposed with how easy Schneider perceives them. Her eyebrows furrow in concern. “Are you okay?”
“Are you ?”
It came out without their consent. It caught both of them off guard, leaving them silently standing in the middle of the busy street. Like their surroundings don’t matter when what’s important is in front of them. Something far more pressing that needs attention. Vertin’s hands start shaking.
“...It seems I keep inconveniencing you.” Schneider lets out an airy laugh, soft and deprecating. She moves close, their foreheads nearly touch and her hand cradles theirs with a delicateness that stops the shaking. They finally take notice how hard they’re breathing and how many eyes are looking. When have their senses slipped? “I will be okay, My Lord. So no worries. Don’t you want to see the world you’ve been deprived of all your life?”
“Why can’t I see it together with you?” Vertin grits their teeth, taking a deep breath. A thick fog clouds them, crackling and condensing. They focus on Schneider’s presence and warmth. Give them more time. There isn’t enough time. “Why can’t…we be together all the time?”
“All the time, My Lord?” The surprised laugh that came out is warm, genuine. Yes, that’s what Vertin wants. They want something genuine right now; intimate. But also not. It’s overwhelming. “You’ll surely grow bored of me always with you at every second.”
“No. Never.” They close their eyes and lets the scent of oranges calm them. The intensity of their feelings receding; stabilizing. Yet the dull emptiness remains in its place. A spot at their core stings painfully, so soft and tender. That’s Schneider. Vertin knows it to be her place to probe and touch. They trust her to care for it well. Just like they want to care for her too. “You’re…”
“You’re good. You’re more than good.”
They don’t know what they want to say, can’t understand what they should say. It’s as if there’s more of a barrier between them than just being human and arcanist at times. The electromagnetic waves surge in a constant stream of confusion when something Vertin doesn’t fully comprehend hits them. It’s so frustrating, it’s irritating.
‘It’s not fair.’
The warmth of her hold reawakens Vertin back to reality. A tender scent of citrus. Watery eyes. And a cracking smile framed by lush brown curls. Ah, Vertin gets it now. They’re being selfish, aren’t they? It’s hard to know the other’s struggles, her thoughts and expressions so easily. Yet they want to know all of it so they can help. They’re pushing her to admit something’s wrong when she’s not ready.
They’re horrible.
“ La ringrazio per le sue premure e la sua gentilezza , My Lord.” Schneider softly whispers, tenderly brushing her cheek against their right and pulls away with a grin. “Honestly, though. I will be fine. I want you to see your world with or without me. In comparison, I’ve seen plenty. Who knows, you may surprise me with something even I won’t know, yes?”
“O, Of course.” Vertin takes a deep breath and returns the smile. Their bout of anxiety subsided and they’re left with bitter remorse and ill relief. Chaotic emotions swirling is a life they constantly live. Is Schneider struggling the same as them? They hope not. “Let that day not come. Because we’ll always be together, right?”
“As long as you have me in your heart, I’m never gone, My Lord.” The brunette winks playfully before stealing the jar from their hands, opening the lid to partake in its delights. “Will you be staying longer, then?”
Vertin glances around, spotting people discreetly eyeing them in concern. No doubt their brief moment of instability has affected other arcanists’ sensitivities as well. They should get moving.
“Maybe another time.” They take her hand. This time their hold is firm, but tender. “We should get our living arrangements settled first.”
“As you wish, My Lord.”
The two of them made their way back down the street where they came from, putting the issue of the moment behind them for a later time. Vertin at least hopes it’ll be addressed again. There’s been far too many things unresolved and they don’t want Schneider to be one of them.
“Before we go, My Lord, can we go buy something? It caught my eye just now…”
———————————————
The Moon; the arcanist community’s version of The Times. It’s the main source of all archaic news and information not commonly allowed to be printed in human newspapers. To think it’s been just under their fingers, in plain sight. Schneider is not surprised.
She flips through the pages with keen interest, absorbing as much of the segments as she can. There’s plenty of new words that’s hard for her to decipher, even with it being written in plain english alphabet, but she’s in no rush to understand whatever it meant. Just the fact she gets to glimpse at something extraordinary is fueling her pastime while her companion sifts through the field documents.
Schneider glances up from the newspaper over to where Vertin sits at the work desk the hotel they booked has provided. The grey haired girl busied themself with properly reading the information to be relayed to her afterwards.
Only that they’ve been reading the same page for an hour straight now.
It’s not that Schneider isn’t aware of the issue. But a matter of just how much they should be talking about it. If it were during their break, it’d be easier to just say it to them. But now that they’ve returned to their task, it’ll be in their best interest to focus on their mission and discuss it later on their next break. If there’s a next time.
The brunette has an inkling that their situation was made to be more accommodating for adjustments by Madam Z; something to be grateful for. Only that there’s so much their supervisor can do for them until she hits a roadblock. Schneider can tell; that woman isn’t part of the game they’re playing. Only she has her own game with the higher ups that she’s in and the brunette truly doesn’t know what her main goal would be. Everything’s complicated.
And maybe not addressing the current elephant in the room is adding to the complexity.
She sighs quietly, setting the newspaper aside to be analyzed later. It’s starting to dawn on Schneider just how much more difficult it is to do what’s right for herself. Because even she doesn't know if what she’s doing is right anymore. What she does know currently is if they’re not at their best, it’ll endanger them when out in the field. Meaning Vertin needs to have their head cleared up.
“My Lord,” Schneider starts, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “How are the documents going?”
“Hm? Yes?” Grey eyes stare at her in bewilderment. Like they didn’t expect her question at all. “Right, the documents are–they’re going.”
The response is definitely not a good sign. Are they really that concerned over her circumstances? It leaves a lingering pain in her chest. Fine, if it’s to give them peace of mind.
“Are you still thinking about what happened at the Faire, My Lord?”
Vertin’s expression remains as blank as a canvas, but only keen eyes can spot how their eyes shook. Stone faced and cold on the outside, but fragile and warm on the inside. That’s Schneider’s friend.
“Didn’t I say earlier that I’ll be fine?” And Schneider truly believes she will be. What she’s experiencing now is what Vertin and many arcanists go through everyday. The pain and the fear from harsh treatment. She’s no stranger to it, but the oppressive sentiment of being judged based on your origin is a whole different cruelty. It’s an understanding she’s learning and wants to learn. For Vertin. “There must be something else about it that bothers you if even the one who got the treatment is less worried that it happened.”
She watches her friend turn in their seat, hesitant and contemplative. Weighing whether or not to speak out what’s on their mind. Even when they both agreed to honesty and transparency, the time and place for it has been so few and far in between that they’ve been forced to leave many things unsaid. While Schneider thinks positively on it as a means to exercise the skill in perceiving one’s intentions without words, maybe it holds a different meaning to Vertin.
Maybe to them that lack of an opportunity is bad.
“Do you hate it?”
It caught Schneider by surprise.
“What do I hate?”
“I asked you before if you hate arcanists.” Vertin stares directly at her, some inner conflict stirring in the surface of her friend’s mind while forming the right words to express it. “But I think… I asked that because I wanted to know if you hate arcanists…after what’s been done to you.”
Ah. That makes sense. Back then, Schneider didn’t think twice for them to question if she’s like many humans that show disdain towards arcanists and while actions can speak for themselves, no one truly knows what someone thinks of others completely. Even she can’t fully tell what Vertin thinks, as hard as she tries to. Now that they say it out loud, it must’ve been confusing to not feel some resentment, given all that’s happened.
“I gave an answer to that question, didn’t I?” And yet even so, her stance on the matter remains the same. “Human or arcanist, I’ll judge you for your actions and your actions alone, yes?”
“Yes, but I guess that wasn’t the right thing to ask.”
It’s confusing. Was there a right or wrong thing to ask? Or was it because the question didn’t answer something Vertin needed to know. Schneider tilts her head in thought. The grey haired girl averts their eyes momentarily, somehow coming to a conclusion. Their silvery stare is intense with a force that yearns to understand. To know her. Schneider was almost scared.
“Do you hate–”
Maybe she should be scared.
“–being forced to be an arcanist?”
Is it forced if she agreed to it? Coerced, maybe. Schneider feels a cold chill rising in her body, a prickling discomfort stemming from somewhere she doesn’t know. It’s hard to imagine what anyone would do if placed in her position; what they can even do with the card dealt to them. Any human would be left lost, baffled, or even go insane.
‘But if it were an arcanist–’
Stop. She closes her eyes and takes a breath. It’s not good to think like that. She’s learning that there’s barely any difference between them by nature of existence. They’re all the same when struggling against the Storm. But it’s also true that maybe there’s less of a problem if an arcanist is set upon this position she’s in.
‘You can also say the same for an adult with world experience too.’
Think of many avenues, many possibilities, but none of them happened. Instead, Schneider’s placed there. And by that decision, she’s with Vertin now. It’s a positive. It’s a fact. Yet the cold, crawling sensation in her skin persists. Like just being enough isn’t enough. It can’t be enough.
Schneider needs to do better.
“It’s not forced if I agree to it, My Lord.” She wills herself to smile, but she knows it’s unconvincing in Vertin’s eyes. Still, smiling always left her less exposed to cracks. “I–I want to be arcanist too. To belong and be welcomed. Be accepted.”
All those words are truths Schneider can admit, but it’s only the tip of an iceberg undiscovered. There’s more in the depth to unpack with her desire to be seen as an arcanist. She didn’t know when it started to become something she wants rather than needs out of survival. Maybe when she and Vertin became friends or–
“But you’re not an arcanist.”
Her heart stops.
“What?”
“You’re not an arcanist and that’s okay.” A distinct ringing starts rising in her ears, muffling whatever words Vertin has to say. Schneider could only stare blankly as their mouth moved to form words. “Don’t push yourself to be…”
Eventually the sound tapers off and she’s overwhelmed by a sickening feeling. Her arms instinctively wrap around herself, seeking warmth that’s no longer there. It’s not like the fact is surprising. It’s the truth even. So, why…why does it seem so wrong? Why doesn’t Schneider like that idea at all?
Why does it hurt hearing that from Vertin.
“Schneider?”
Like being sucked out of the vacuum of her mind, she’s back to the present. All the sounds and senses return; including the look of concern on Vertin’s face. Ah, she keeps worrying them. Why is she such an inconvenience.
“Are you okay?”
“I–” Schneider takes slow, even breaths, calming down from the race of her heart. She still feels cold and ill, like she’s trying to crawl out of her own skin. But she can’t bring herself to be dishonest despite wanting to not worry her friend any further. “Is it…really not possible?”
“To be an arcanist?” Vertin blinks, “I don’t know. What makes an arcanist an arcanist is…their arcanum? No, that doesn’t sound right. After all, there’s studies that not all arcanists have naturally skilled control over an arcane skill. I’m also one of them, so maybe–”
“Do you think I shouldn’t be an arcanist, My Lord?”
“Uh?” Schneider rubs her arms to get the goosebumps to leave while waiting for the other to reply. The conversation has shifted into a strange territory. But anything is better than acknowledging something that deeply upsets her. Not right now, at least. “Well, it’s not like you can be one, right?”
She feels sick.
“Right.”
“Are you really alright, Schneider?” Vertin frowns at her state, only making her worse. She needs to cool off. A bath would be nice. “Did I say something wrong?”
“I don’t feel well, My Lord.” Standing up, she forces another smile on her face. “I’ll go take a warm bath; see if it will help. We have work to do in the evening, after all.”
“Oh. Alright.”
It’s stifling. Even if it wasn’t the first time they’ve been awkward around each other, but it’s been the first since the incident. For some reason that just made it sting more. Schneider nods and makes her way to the bathroom. Once the door closed shut, she silently slid down to the floor, face in her hands.
‘You’re not an arcanist. You can’t be one.’
“I know.” she mumbles quietly. “I know.”
———————————————
They’ve messed up.
Vertin feels like they’ve said something wrong, but couldn’t figure out what. Even if they apologize, it’d be meaningless and insincere when they don’t know the problem. Was it about Schneider wanting to be an arcanist?
While their worries were about how the Foundation had pushed the brunette into accepting an identity she’s not meant to be, Vertin didn’t expect Schneider’s response at all. They’ve never heard of a human wanting to be an arcanist before. There’s a lot of arcanists that want to be human, so the realm of possibility isn’t completely out of the picture.
Is it possible that what Vertin said about her not being an arcanist is the issue? Did they hurt her? That wasn’t their intention at all.
Now they're here, in the midst of preparing for the scheduled interception of the attack within big ben. As soon as Schneider came out of the bathroom, she immediately went to sleep, leaving no room to make amends. It's like they came out of the conversation with more things unsaid than resolving anything. They're at a loss.
And now they've run out of time again.
“Where should we go, My Lord.”
“We'll take the north wing path. It should connect to the tower's stairwell the workers use.”
Having briefed the extent of the mission, they have express jurisdiction to enter the premises, but they need to keep a low profile. If the attackers knew of the Foundation's involvement, they'd change tactics that might not land within the oracle's prediction. Approaching it with caution is their best chance at succeeding if they're outnumbered.
Their concern for Schneider's limits hasn't left Vertin's mind even now. It's fortunate that they've thought up a backup plan if things go bad.
With the help of the evening’s dark, the two of them snuck in quietly. Vertin didn't bring their suitcase for this task as well. They need to be as swift on their feet and their luggage is too bulky for their size to maneuver around. All the lights within the building are turned off with only a few paces in front of them being visible. Pitter patter of their shoes echoes loudly throughout the deafening silence, it makes Vertin worry at being heard. It’s concerning how quiet it is; it didn’t feel right.
Where are the guards?
They're quick to locate the staff door leading to the clockwork structure's maintenance stairwell. It's already unlocked. It gave them a foreboding sense of deja vu.
“We're just a few steps behind the workers.” Vertin deduced, followed by a deep sense of caution. “Be alert.”
“Yes, My Lord.”
Opening the doorway welcomes them to more silence. The inner mechanism of big ben has been turned off for repairs and the faint sound of movement against metal grating echoes from above. Vertin gestures for Schneider to follow closely and ascend the stairs. It's a spiraling path with only the light flowing from big ben’s clock face and the worker's flashlights. By the time they reached where the men were, it's a ninety meter drop all the way down. They positioned themselves a whole level below the men, observing them from the shadows.
“On my call, take action like we planned.” Vertin whispers to their companion. “Try not to hit the civilians this time. We're in a dangerous place to be engaging in a fight. One wrong step could send us falling.”
“Got it.” Schneider nods, looking absentminded as she makes a move to get into position. Vertin couldn't help grabbing her wrist gently.
“Schneider–”
“Not yet, My Lord.”
It's not the right time.
Vertin tightens their jaw, but silently lets their grip slip away. The thought of letting go distresses them even more. But they have a job to do.
“Don't push yourself.” They remind her. Begging her. “Remember the plan.”
“I will, My Lord.”
They watch her slip away, moving with grace and adept silence up to the leveled platform the workers are on. She's soon completely out of sight. Yet the foreboding feeling lingers in their chest. As if a deadly premonition overcomes them, Vertin has the urge to stick by Schneider that night. Like if they don't keep her within their sight, something terrible will happen to her.
A deafening sound reverberates throughout the whole tower, shaking its foundation with intense force. Vertin tightly clutch their head and cover their ears in a poor attempt to block out the piercing sound. Their eyes shot upward to the swaying bell's toll, signaling the eve of the tenth hour. But none of the gears were turning.
“Bloody–the bell rang!”
“Did the mechanism turn on by itself?!”
Muffled shouts from the people above are completely drowned out by the loud chimes assaulting their ears at full volume. It almost distracted Vertin from the looming shadow descending towards the men.
“?!! Schneider!”
The large bell tolls, silencing their cries and the shadowy figure lands on the platform heavily. It shook the metal grates several layers down, knocking the arcanists to the ground; one nearly falling off the railings. Vertin stumbled, quickly grabbing the wall for support and rushed up the stairs. They caught Schneider moving out of the shadows and towards the enemy, guns drawn.
No, something's not right. Their plan won't work!
“No, wait!”
The bell tolls.
Vertin's warning falls on deaf ears, the ringing too loud and obstructing. Schneider rushes forward and takes aim directly on the target. Her bullets spark lights on the bulky shadow's form, but it didn't even flinch. Trying a new tactic, she runs up close and makes for a swift kick to its mass. Her foot collides with metal.
“Ah?!” She flinched at the dull ache the force brought to her leg, giving her no time to dodge the swipe aimed at her, sending her skidding across the metal grating.
“Schneider!”
This is bad.
They quickly assessed the situation, spotting the lumbering enemy finally standing up. It towers over the men scrambling to get away and wields a massive hammer between its hands. It's like a living suit of armor, bulky and menacing, covered head to toe in steel. Movement stilted, janky, it grips its weapon tight and raises it high above its head. Aimed at one of the workers.
The bell tolls.
Gunshots fire, showering golden sparks all over the armored creature's body. It remained unfazed; it swung its hammer down. Vertin's heart starts pounding.
“Deflect!”
Their arcanum burns with desperation, forming quick but fragile. It easily shatters past the barrier with a horrifying crunch. Vertin's vision is filled with red.
Smashed in like a pulpy fruit, bones crunched and flesh seeping past the grates to fall below. The impact surely killed the man instantly. The force of the hammer left a sizable dent to the metal flooring, deforming the structure and weakening the stability of the platform. Everything falls into chaos.
The bell tolls.
“K,kill– It killed him! That thing killed me!”
“Monster! It's a monster, help, help!!”
The creature raises its bloody hammer off the crushed remains, gurgling incoherently like it's attempting to form words as it picks another target.
“Need…stone…”
The bell tolls.
A white blur shot out, breaking Vertin out of their daze into full blown panic. Schneider tackles the armored mass with enough force to overshoot its swing, preventing another arcanist’s untimely end. The momentum went off kilter, toppling the enemy against the railings. The brunette shoots at its hands to forcibly disarm it and struggles to lift its weapon over the edge.
“The civilians, My Lord!”
Are they still going with the plan? The life of the bystanders are a priority and Vertin pushes their distress to will their body to move. They approach the men with as much calm as they could, but it's easy to sense the instability of the electromagnetic waves influencing the panic in them.
“Please, we're here to help.” Vertin assures, careful to grab one of them to their feet. “We need to get you all to safety. Hold my hand, please. That's it, now help hold the others and follow me.”
The bell tolls.
The platform shook violently, tilting to the side with a screeching noise as the metal support collapsed on one side. Vertin quickly ushers the men down the steps and keeps an eye on them as they descend. Once they're sure of their escape, they finally had the forethought to proceed with their backup plan. The few items they took with them are healing potions, disruption potions like misty bubble balls, and the Foundation issued contact device assigned to Schneider.
“Schneider, call for backup!”
“At such a juncture, My Lord?” Schneider avoids another attempt from the burly creature at grabbing her, enraged by the loss of its weapon. She pulls out the device strapped to her waist and presses a button on its side. “It can't be helped!”
The device lights up with a mechanical voice responding from its speaker.
“Emergency backup protocol activated. Please state the activation code.”
The bell tolls.
“Devo ancora dirlo?! Sei serio?! E' un'emergenza!” The brunette gasps when an arm hits her torso, tossing her against the railing and to the floor. Her hand loses grip on the device, it clatters to the floor and nearly slides off the tilted platform. Schneider dove for it, tightly gripping its form while hissing out each word clear and concise. “Not. Yet.”
“Confirmation code detected. Voice verification approved. Identity, Timewarden. Your request for a quick dispatch has been sent. Estimated time of arrival, ten minutes.”
The bell tolls.
“They're on their way–!!”
Vertin clambers back up the unstable platform to the piercing screams filling the air. Their blood ran cold. They're greeted to the sight of the brunette suspended in the air within the clutches of the enemy. Schneider claws at the tight grip against her neck, sticky fingers slipping from the blood coating it. Slamming the butt of her gun on its helmet, making a dull metallic noise with no response. Even with a direct bullet to the face, it only dents its metal. The bullet she's using is ineffective. She feebly kicks against its chest with little to no result.
“Give…stone…” She's pulled closer to its face, grip on her neck choking her. It pauses. “...no…stone.”
Schneider's eyes widened.
“Schneider, close your eyes and cover your mouth!” Vertin rushes over, quickly tossing a misty bubble ball directly on the enemy's head. It's caught off guard, but barely responded to the glittery pink mist surrounding it. Using its momentary distraction, they aimed a pew pew poppin pellet with its accompanying slingshot at its head. A quick charge of arcanum enhances the pellet’s effectiveness and upon contact to its target, bursts into flames.
The creature shrieks, flailing around while grasping its fractured head. Schneider gets swung to and fro as she puts more effort in dislodging herself. Vertin only noticed too late how close they are to the railing, backing up more and more. No, no!!
Vertin didn't realize they're screaming until they're running, watching both Schneider and the enemy fall off into a ninety meter drop.
The bell tolls. Its final chime.
A cry of despair.