Author's Note: This entry is a bit longer than the last one, and has more emphasis on mystery, intrigue, and character development. Since a larger proportion of the story is focused on the mystery and intrigue, I've decided to switch up the categories for this one. Rest assured, though, there is a bit of erotica (including a threesome and some public sex).
**
My journey home after the attack on the manor was far from a simple one. The currents and my frantic swim brought me to the docks, where a group of sailors were busy harvesting a kraken-corpse. Ink-stained men looked up from their bloody work to stare as I splashed ashore.
Some offered jeers and propositions at the sight of my skimpy outfit. I tossed them one of my bejeweled anklets in exchange for a jacket and a pair of boots. Wrapping the oversized jacket around my shivering body, I trudged past the warehouses and fisheries, wrinkling my nose at the stench of dead fish and krakens.
From there, I traded away an anklet to a beggar in exchange for all of the coins he'd collected in his hat, which were enough to buy gondola fare. I'd kept money in my coinpurse, but I had left that behind with my cloak at the manor.
Due to the late hour, most of the other passengers were dockworkers heading home from late shifts, or drunken students returning to dormitories after a night out at the dockside taverns.
Shivering from fear and the cold, I ignored their stares as best as I could and pondered what I'd endured, trying to pinpoint who could have been responsible.
Who could have done such a thing? A rival cult? An opposing group of fanatics trying to stamp out the practices of the old ways? Someone with a grudge against my father or against one of the other wealthy guests?
It couldn't have been the justicars. Although such Rites were illegal those machines had been no tools of the law. An official raid would have involved arrests, not flames and butchery.
I would find no answers within my frenzied mind. To distract and center myself, I stared down at the city.
Beneath me stretched the vast slums of the district of Dockside, with homes made of driftwood, kraken-bones, and the hulls of recycled ships.
Down below lived the workers, soldiers, servants and the lower-class merchants of Raveth. The teeming masses who were the gears that made the entire metropolis function.
My father had once been among those souls. He'd started as a simple, common dockworker whose cleverness and luck had propelled him to the highest rungs of Ravethi society.
During my childhood he had taken me for tours of those slums, to remind me of his past and to reinforce how far the family had risen. He'd also taken the opportunity to make a show of his grand charity works, showing off the orphanages and soup kitchens he'd sponsored.
Shuddering, I tore my moistened eyes away from the slums and looked along the crackling rails of the gondola. The cars led to one of the transit stations, a great stone spire that loomed high above the city. Rune-tech reactors pulsed and gleamed, sending energy through the stone and into the rails.
Once at the transit station I used the last of my coins to hire a private skyship taxi. The deft little vessel whisked me through the night, skimming over the gondola rails and past the glittering towers.
"Rough night out, eh?" the pilot said, chuckling a little.
"You haven't the slightest idea."
"Oh, I wager I do. I used to serve in the People's Legions. Had plenty of rough nights out on the frontier and during garrison duty," he said with a soft laugh, before sending the little craft down past two gleaming towers.
The taxi landed at a slender metal tower a short distance from the family estate. My legs still shaking from my ordeal, I disembarked and headed down the lift to street level. My route took me past two justicars standing guard by the exit. They wore long golden coats, with red sashes upon their chests. Gilded helmets covered their faces, save for little slits that barely exposed their eyes. If they paid me any mind at all, the helmets prevented me from noticing.
Taking in a deep breath, I glanced at their holstered shock-batons and brushed on past.
I trotted along the quiet cobblestone streets, past cozy townhomes, walled estates, and quiet teahouses. My relief soared with every step closer to home.
A sob erupted from my lips as I reached the front gates. Pressing my hand to the rune-interface upon the wall, I tapped in the appropriate sigils.
The gate swept open, revealing our home's sprawling gardens. Automatons tended to the hedges and flowerbeds, toiling through the night to keep everything perfect and immaculate. I couldn't help but wince at the way their pruning shears trimmed the plants, imagining how the metallic claws back at the manor had sliced through flesh.
I pushed through the massive main doors and let out a sob of relief. The glow of alchemical candles danced across my sweaty skin as I shut the doors. After sliding down against the wall, I collapsed upon the floor, allowing myself to relax for the first time since my frantic escape from the manor.
To my horror, a voice wafted from the sitting room just off the main foyer.
"Lyneth?" my father's voice called out. "How was the opera?"
I'd been expecting my parents to be asleep by the time I returned, which would have bought me time to get my story straight. Thanks to my fear, I'd almost forgotten my lie about attending the opera.
"A bit rubbish to my honest," I said, hoping I could scamper on up to my wing of the estate before either of them rose to greet me.
"I told you," my mother said. "
The Jackal's Rose
is easily the worst of Targosky's works. You would have been better off waiting for them to put on
The Laughing Sword
instead."
Just as I rose to my feet, the door to the sitting room swung open. My father stood in the doorway, his wiry body clad in a fine suit. The man always insisted on dressing nicely, even when lounging around at home.
His eyes widened.
"Gods' graves, Lyneth," he hissed. "What happened?"
My mother appeared behind him, giving him a little shove out of the way. She was wearing a fine, fur-lined nightgown, and her usually elegant curls were pulled back into a tight bun.
"Were you mugged?" she snapped, glancing towards the door. "We shall send for the justicars at once, we-"
"No!" I blurted out. "It's...it's nothing. We can talk about in the morning."
"No, we shall not," my father said, placing his hands on his hips. "You may be a grown woman but I'll be damned if my daughter can wander back into my house smelling like filth and wearing some scruffy coat without an explanation."
He approached, scowling and sniffing.
"Is that seawater? Kraken ink? Where
were
you?"
There could be no hiding it now. Once my parents sank their teeth into a topic, they were as persistent as a hungry wolf.
I glanced past my father into the sitting room, at the inviting comfortable couches and the well-stocked bar.
"A cup of brandy first."
"By the dead gods I'll probably need one, too," my mother said with a huff.
I collapsed upon the couch, my mind reeling as my father poured me a glass and handed it over.
After taking a long sip, my shaking hands settled it down upon the table as my parents sat down across from me. The blue glow of the alchemical fireplace gleamed in their concerned, frightened eyes.
Their concern was about to shift into rage.
"I attended an event," I said, my voice slow and trembling. "There was an attack by automatons."
"An attack?" my mother blurted. "Then we must summon the justicars at once."
I swallowed.
"The event was...illegal. Going to the justicars for help could get me in trouble and cause...complications for the family business."
Their eyes narrowed. Before they could demand further answers, I took a deep breath and continued.
"It was an event hosted by the Crimson Night."
My father cursed and my mother let out a faint squeak.
"Gods' graves, Lyneth,
why
?" he snarled.
I gulped down a bit more brandy.
"Because I've been a good and dutiful daughter. While other women my age are galivanting off on world tours and hosting extravagant balls and spending all of their father's money on jewelry, I've been
working
. For the good of the family. For the business. For the city. And I am going to continue to do so. But for one night, all I wanted was a bit of fun. A scandalous, private little event in the shadows and then I'd go back to being the perfect daughter."
Silence gripped the room. I finished off my brandy and let out a soft, joyless laugh.
"The one consolation, father, is that I was able to field-test those new razorflies I've been working on. They worked fabulously."
"This is not time for japes and jokes," my mother snapped.
"They worked even with the smaller reactors?" asked my father, his curiosity winning out over his fatherly anger for the moment.
"Yes. At least in the short term. I doubt they would have fought on for several minutes, but as short-term contingency defenses? Marvelous. I think I'll need to calibrate their wings to-"
"Product development can wait," said my mother. She took a few deep breaths. "I know you have been under a lot of pressure, darling. But-"
"I place that pressure upon myself. And gladly so." I swallowed. "And I also recognize that I should have found a safer outlet."
My father collected my glass and refilled it.
"We could spend all evening chiding you for your poor choices, but you've already acknowledged the mistake." He rested a hand on my shoulder. "What matters now is finding out who did this, without involving the justicars."
"Yes," said my mother with a fierce nod. "We cannot allow this to go unanswered. Even if the attackers were after someone else and not you, the Vaspar family is not to be trifled with."
"The hunt for vengeance can at least wait until she's had a bath and a bit of rest. Clean up, darling, and try to get a good night's sleep. We can go over the details in the morning."
