Curselock

Chapter 141: Spycraft

King Harlen’s declaration that Aunty P. was possibly the greatest spy in the world hit a chord, and Leland suddenly found himself checking over his shoulder rather consistently. He was able to catch onto subtle cues, finding the Eldest Princess looking at him a hair too long or how she seemingly always entered a conversation when something of note was being mentioned.

For the next three days, Leland failed to find a moment in which he could give Glenny the glass shard – not if he didn’t want Aunty P. to find out. Glenny would no doubt have questions, most, if not all, would require verbal answering. He guessed they could play a game of secret messages, but against the ‘greatest spy,’ the code would be cracked instantly.

Once Leland was conscious of it, he realized just how much of his time was near Aunty P. His only alone time was in the mornings when his dad portaled him out of the city for his daily exercise and when his parents were off shift and they were allowed to venture into the city. Glenny, for most waking moments, stayed at the royal campus and worked with his father and Harlen. The Void wasn’t going to adapt to itself, after all, and Harlen’s time in this realm was coming to an end.

Another thing Leland noticed was how his parents spoke around Aunty P. He had always assumed it was intuition between the two, being married for so long they had learned to read one another’s minds, so they spoke in short bursts without many details. But now he was leaning toward his parents knowing Aunty P. was a proficient spy – and that she could hear everything.

So, when his parents failed to broach the topic of their son being a Champion at the dinner table with Aunty P., Leland knew not to spill any more secrets so plainly. Secrets were only to be spoken of outside of the royal campus or behind sound-proof walls.

Luckily, the Silvers were allowed daily trips into the city – and more importantly, away from Aunty P.

The first outing of these three days was another dinner with Franklin. The Bookkeeper had finished transcribing all of Leland’s tattoo, except for the one symbol that eluded him from before – the rune for what type of weapon would be summoned. Unfortunately, the man had little more information for the young Warlock. Such was the way of runes, once a certain threshold was transcribed, even if the rest was lost to time, the rune could still be identified.

Lodestar was a weapon, it took something pertaining to “willpower,” “death,” and “life,” to summon, and it was befitting of a Champion.

Still, Leland couldn’t complain. Franklin, after a few drinks, turned into quite an interesting fellow to speak with. The sheer amount of information he knew gave a whole new scope onto the world for Leland. Hearing about a fairytale was one thing, learning about the actual history surrounding those events was another.

The second outing was to a high-end magical jewelers. Using the Silver name as entry, Leland walked away as the owner of three new and shiny spatial rings – two of which were Glenny and Jude’s.

The rings themselves were specifically made to look like nothing special. Naked bands, buffed and shined, with a sprinkle of purposefully made scratches. They came in three colors, silver for Leland, obviously, bronze for Jude, and a dark gray for Glenny. All in all, the rings looked like properly taken care of wedding bands – not an enchanted loop housing, potentially, a large closet’s worth of items.

Their appearance didn’t stop Leland from meticulously studying the engravings inlayed into the interior metal. The enchantment was oddly simple, just unfathomably rare and difficult to power. Those who could create such a ring were few and far between, often locked away for their own safety.

Based on the store’s runic protection and hired muscle, assassinations and theft were quite common occurrences. At least more common than a ring being found in the Reflection Kingdom ruins and sold in Ruinsforth.

The third day, the Silver’s didn’t get to have private family time. The day was special, the Royal Dream’s main ceremony.

Since Sybil’s arrival, the Youngest Princess had visited locations of interest around the city or held waving ceremonies from a balcony. These events, however, had been completely falsified by illusions. Sybil being anywhere not locked down by Spencer’s magic was a risk, one they already would have to contend with during the Royal Dream.

So, on the morning of the Dream, and despite the warm aroma of breakfast, the adults, including Aunty P. and Harlen, acted as if they were soldiers waiting for the cue to march into battle. This left the boys isolated in spirit, their parents mechanically eating or conversing about nothing.

At least, until the clock struck and Aunty P. stood from her seat with a gusty whirl.

“Time to go,” she said to Sybil, despite everyone reacting.

All of the adults, even the Huntress, began to gather their things,donning their full-combat gear. Heavily enchanted robes and trinkets for the Silvers, metal armor that created a shell around the Browns, and lightweight leathers that didn’t constrict movement for Mr. Red. The Huntress bundled herself in a ratty cloak and slipped on an equally torn hat, while Harlen dismissed his ghostly garments for something much more sheer and thin.

Sybil resolved herself as she stood, visibly shaking and not from the glow that radiated from her bones and through her skin. Her aunt whispered words of encouragement and the glow hesitated for a long minute before ultimately fading away.

“Good, that was good,” Aunty P. hummed, shifting her attention to the artifact sitting harmlessly on the table. “Might as well put it on now.”

Sybil nodded, still shaking but less like a mouse and more like a child about to perform a solo song. As she put on the blank white mask, she couldn’t help but lock eyes with Leland. Her aunt had told her to stay away from him for the time being, and she had, but that didn’t change the fact that just being near him eased her trembles.

She had long listened to Leland and his tales of adventure and wonderment. But they were only that, tales. Captivation only applied until one’s experiences outweighed the story, Sybil thought, knowing it was her time to create a tale befitting her title and heritage.

It was time to meet a Lord, one of the oldest few. Maybe she’d tell Leland about it one day.

“Alright boys, it’s time for you to head on over and get some good seats,” Aunty P. said, gesturing to the door. “We need to go over our battle plan one last time, and well, we can’t have you three hearing about it.”

Leland, Jude, and Glenny accepted their banishment with goodbye waves and a brisk hug in the case of Diana and Jude. They left quietly, knowing that news of the Royal Dream starting soon would remove all semblance of proper “seats” in mere moments. So, they headed toward Ruinsforth’s center, otherwise known as the Reflection Kingdom.

Once the boys were out, Aunty P. looked at the Huntress and nodded toward the door. Isobel, knowing her role in the ceremony, silently left.

She rushed through the royal campus and found her marks, three young men, the ones she called the smart one, the dull one, and the quiet one. Frankly she didn’t know why the boys needed protection, but such was Aunty P’s orders. “Listen and observe,” were her orders, neither of which were important. Wasn’t there a princess doing something dangerous today?

It wasn’t until the boys found a spot to sit on the street Sybil would eventually walk down, that Isobel heard something interesting.

“Here, Glenny, take this,” Leland muttered, his voice like a criminal’s hiding in the shadows.

The Huntress missed what was shuffled between them, only catching a glimpse of a shred of cloth. But the tone and hushed movements were telling enough. He was trying to hide the object, but from who? Who, besides herself obviously, would be watching them?

“What is it?” Glenny replied, taking the fabric and unraveling it slightly. He looked at the gift, his eyes suddenly glazing over.

“From your Lord, information.”

Glenny didn’t respond, instead making an odd groaning sound. The others looked at each other, Jude looking far more concerned than Leland.

“Leals?”

“I… don’t know,” Leland said, trying and failing, to take the fabric back from Glenny. “I think it’s fine? I mean, it’s from his Lord after all.”

Jude, still frowning, asked, “What did it cost?”

“Nothing. Well, sort of. I was tested, but I passed.”

“Any chance you will talk to my Lord?”

“Next on my list, but I don’t want to while Aunty P. is around. Harlen told me she was a spy, and well, I’m worried that she’s catching on.”

Isobel already knew Leland had secrets, but she had long decided he was to be trusted. From working with the Lord of Nature’s Champion to defeating a Harbinger to helping a city in need, Leland had proven himself to be someone fighting on the side of “good.” But at the same time, Aunty P. had proven herself, over centuries, to be someone the crown constantly relied on.

Which meant there was much more to Leland than—

The Huntress shook her head. No. No. No. Leland was trustworthy and Aunty P. only acted in the crown’s best interests. There was a world in which the two crossed with a fiery explosion, the only question was, just how would Aunty P. react?

Leland, at the end of the day, was a kid, one with a power patron overseeing his every step, yes, but still a child, nonetheless. Aunty P. had a whole kingdom’s resources, and then some, at her beck and call.

If the two were going to collide, Isobel needed to be careful, especially in choosing a side.

Becoming an Inquisitor was a means to an end, once upon a time. But her revenge had long been served, killed, and buried. And while she had yet to rebuild her previous life, could she even see herself falling back into obscurity? Living in a small village, hunting small game, protecting those she deemed neighborly? Conversely, she could remain with the Inquisitors. Eventually reach Royal Inquisitor, then most likely die in battle.

For what end, though? To protect the nation who let her daughter die? To the Queen who allows bandit parties to exist so that the caravan protection economy stays buoyant?

Isobel adjusted her ratty cloak – the lone remnant of her prior life – bundling up so that her hiding spot was harder to notice. As she did so, her thoughts trailed to the cloak, and what it once meant. What it currently meant.

Maybe it was time for the Huntress to… to…

Her eyes narrowed on Leland, Jude, and a rapidly blinking Glenny. They began to converse, but in all honesty, Isobel ignored their words. Whatever they whispered about were their secrets, not hers, and definitely not Aunty P’s.