Storm Strider

There were a thousand and one questions Marisol wanted to pepper Victor with as she followed him down the upper city, but it was nearing midnight, and the pouring rain was starting to sting against her skin.

‘Black Storm’ may be a hundred times fiercer outside the city in order to stop anything from sailing in, but the stray winds churning inside the city were still more than enough to make her shiver. Her teeth chattered and she hugged herself as she trudged along, wondering just where the man was taking her—but she had to skate no further. It was only five minutes away from the top of the city, and for a few seconds, while Victor walked right through the front door unbothered, she stayed outside to stare at the front of the building.

The little hand-wrought iron sign hanging out the front door wrote ‘Highwind Inn’—she wasn’t sure if the Archive was projecting translated words for her or not—and the building by the side of the main street was immaculate, the entire front styled in classical western architecture with whitewashed walls accented by deep terracotta tiles. Arched windows adorned with silver grilles lined the exterior, and the alabaster front doors were swung in, letting out a warm orange mist. Not a single part of the building screamed ‘tavern’ to her, in all honesty, and it was by far the most lavish building she’d ever seen… but Victor was impatient. He trudged out, grabbed her collar, and dragged her in with a grumble.

Hey.

Let me gawk at it for a bit–

“Chill, boys,” he said, waving down the three Harbour Imperators who immediately shot to their feet the moment he entered the foyer with her in tow. He thumbed back at her, clicking his tongue as he did. “She’ll be coming in and out with me from now on.”

For her part, though she was still gawking around with wide eyes, the foyer was a combination of white, sapphire blue, and onyx black stone, all smooth and exceptionally polished.Brass lanterns with gold-hued glass hung from the high ceiling, casting a warm, inviting glow over the foyer. The sweeping marble floor was patterned in shades of deep blue and cream, reminding her of the great blue. At the end of the foyer was the reception counter, carved from rich walnut wood, and behind it were shelves upon shelves of keys, scrolls and ledgers bound in leather, meticulously organised.

The Harbour Imperators had just been sitting and relaxing on the velvet sofas by the walls of the sofa next to the counter, but it didn’t seem like Victor’s words placated them—they still got in his way, the tassels and belt buckles on their shiny uniforms clinking as they prepared to unsheathe their blades.

Instinct told Marisol to be prepared to bolt outside, but the posh reception lady with her long blonde hair tied in a bun cleared her throat, making the Imperators glance back and frown. Her eyes were closed as she gave all of them a soft, courteous smile that didn’t carry the meaning behind it; she looked as though she was going to kill all of them if they made a fuss for the rest of the customers in the middle of the night.

“... Let them pass,” a stiff voice said from the bottom of the stairwell to the left, making all of them turn again. Marisol narrowed her eyes at the fourth Imperator: another pretty lady in full white and blue uniform, her white cape lined with silver silk flowed from her shoulder down to her calves. Her sleek blonde hair was tied in a single braid, and her sharp eyes gleamed with irritation—she leaned against the stair railings with her arms crossed, scowling straight at Victor. “And you. Don’t throw the doors open like that in the middle of a storm. You’ll get water all over the foyer and–”

Victor disappeared for a single blink, and Marisol heard the doors slamming shut behind her a fraction of a second after he reappeared next to the lady.

What.

That doesn’t even make sense–

“It’s been a while, Reina!” he said, opening his arms for a hug, and Marisol swore she saw a smile under his bandages. “How’ve you been? Was Depth Five fun? Did the other Imperators in Lighthouse Two bully you? Just say the world, and I’ll go over right now and–”

A thin black scorpion tail swerved out from Reina’s back, pushing Victor's head away as she nodded at the other Imperators. “I'll escort the two of them to their room. Why are the three of you here, anyways?”

One of the Imperators spoke up. “We received a report that Victor Morina broke the prisoner out, so we came to intercept him when he inevitably returns to this–”

“I will deal with him and the prisoner,” Reina interrupted curtly. “Return home and rest. Your presence is not required any longer.”

Judging by the suspicious looks the Imperators gave Marisol, they didn’t trust her to not cause a ruckus again, but unlike Victor’s casual authority, there was an air of gravitas around Reina. The Imperators left begrudgingly—exiting the inn—and they remembered to close the doors behind them as they departed.

Victor chuckled as Reina beckoned the two of them up the stairs, and the reception lady shot Marisol a knowing nod as she left the foyer.

Best to walk lightly, eh? she thought. Don’t wanna mess up the pretty marble floor they’ve got going here with my glaives.

It was a quick trip to the third and highest floor of the inn, and at the end of the cosy wooden hallway was Victor’s spacious room. Like the foyer downstairs, the decor was smooth and polished. A pair of candles was the only source of light in the room; the single bed in the far corner was covered with a soft blue quilt in the pattern of swirling waves, accompanied by a dresser, a closet, and an ornately carved wooden desk facing out the window. Fragrant potted plants gave the room a sweet-smelling scent to hide the humidity of the city outside, and… there was also a door right next to the front door connecting to a different room.

While Reina and Victor stepped inside, she peeked inside the second door, marvelling at the sparkling white tiles of the room’s private bathroom.

How much does it cost to stay here overnight?

Back where I live, a room with a private bathroom like this would cost–

Reina hooked the front door shut with her scorpion tail and then coughed into her fist, making Marisol snap her head over. The pretty lady stood leaning against the closet, arms crossed and brows furrowed as ever. Victor took the chair, legs up on the desk as he stared out the window facing the main street, and if the heavy tension in the air meant anything at all…

Marisol tried to take the only seat remaining—right on the soft quilted bed—and was immediately whipped at by Reina’s tail, the stinger wagging at her to stay off the comfy-looking fabric.

“Go take a shower first,” Reina said plainly, glaring at Victor’s back the entire time. “There’s a spare change of clothes inside the bathroom. I’ll have the staff give your tattered clothes a deep wash, and I’ll also have your possessions delivered here by the end of the week.”

“...”

Sensing hostility, Marisol quickly ducked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her, looking around at the expensive amenities she could never even dream of owning back home.

As she bumbled around the bathroom trying to get the water faucet flowing—at least, the golden tap-looking thing above the drain looked like a faucet—she listened attentively to the furious conversation that exploded into being the moment she stepped out of the picture.

“Victor.”

“What’s up–”

“What happened to procedure? What happened to talking things out with the Harbour Guards? What, you think you can just break someone out of prison and not expect the Guards to get pissed off about it?”

“The Imperatrix told me to take her in. If we wanna be technical about it, the Guards were the ones obstructing my duty by making me sign this and that, like… gran creador, Reina, it’s the middle of the night. Ain’t nobody wanna sign a million forms just to pick up a girl from her cell. It’s quicker to just bust her out myself.”

“Even still. You must get a signed and stamped letter from the Imperatrix–”

“Eh, you deal with it. You’re the Imperator here, anyways.”

“See, whenever you pull something like, you’re just… you’re just straining it, you know? Like the Imperators and the Hasharana don’t already have bad blood between them. Keep this up and–”

“Like the Imperators ain’t already keeping track of me at all times by placing you as my ‘assistant’ in the city. Fuck if I’m the one who needs an assistant. I’ve been fighting here longer than most of you have even been alive. What’s Lighthouse Five gonna do? Give me a second assistant as if you ain’t already reporting everything I do to them?”

A pause.

Marisol stopped scrubbing herself with the bar of soap to not fill in the silence.

“... You know it’s not like that, uncle. I don’t want to spy on you.”

“But they picked you because they know you’re close to me, eh? I don’t mind! How was the dive to Depth Five? It’s your first time going that deep, right? Why, it seems just like yesterday when me and your pops could fit you in the palm of our hand, and damn if your pop’s hands weren’t bloody massive compared to mine–”

Something bounced off Victor’s head as Reina clicked her tongue. “Back on topic. The girl. Marisol… Vellamira? Of the old Vellamira household? Lighthouse Five has records of her family residing in the city three decades ago, but they left during Year Seventy like most other lower city households.”

“Really? News to me.”

“You know she killed a Mutant, right?”

“Mhm.”

“And that she’s supposedly stolen an Altered Swarmsteel System from a Hasharana?”

“Well, Antonio must’ve authorised the transfer, so I dunno anything about ‘stealing’. I’d say it’s more like a inheriting a distant cousin’s–”

“We’re not doing well, uncle. You know Corpsetaker’s been acting up this past decade, and a few months ago, his Four Lesser Leviathans are starting to move as well. They’re calling Mutants from all over the Deepwater Legion Front to swarm the city on all sides, and that girl—that shrimp she brought with her—could’ve killed a lot of people in the lower city by coming here on that ridiculous-looking warship. We’ve got no idea if she’s hiding something more from us. Have we even checked her for another Mutant parasitising her on the inside? Didn’t she punch a Harbour Guard a few nights ago?”

“Chill. She’s fine. I would’ve killed her myself if she were carrying a Mutant inside her.”

“... And? What about everything else? Her background? Her story? You’re telling me you’re placing her under your ward when she could very well–”

“If she meant any harm, she wouldn’t have killed that Mutant, and she damn well would’ve kicked her way out of that cell once she fully recovered from her coma. Like those shoddy steel bars were actually keeping her locked up.”

“But–”

“It’s late, Reina. This old man needs his beauty sleep. We can talk about this tomorrow over some flan and pudding.”

“Not so fast! At least tell me what you’re planning on doing with her! Even if the Imperatrix gave you permission to take her under your wing, I doubt the other Lighthouse Imperators are happy with–”

Marisol finished changing into her plain-white bathrobes and pushed the door open, her curly hair steaming and wrapped up in a bundle of towels.

Victor and Reina held their tongues and looked at her the moment she burst back in, and for Reina’s part, she didn’t look as though she realised just how loud they’d been talking. Marisol had heard everything, and now there was a small blush on her face as she turned away. On the other hand, Victor seemed to be smirking under his bandages—he knew very well that Marisol had heard it all, so he spun around in his chair to face her, hands clasping as he leaned forward.

He didn’t say anything.

He wasn’t the one with questions.

After all, Marisol still had a thousand and one questions she wanted to ask him, but right now—after hearing their conversation—there was only one question she wanted answers for.

“... You said you’ll have a vial of healing seawater sent back to mama if I cooperate,” she said, looking between the two of them with her jaw clenched. “Were you lying? How are you gonna do that? How do I know you’ll keep your end of the bargain?”

Victor tilted his head at Reina in a ‘I told you so’ gesture, and Reina, after a few moments, sighed and dipped her head slightly.

“Defense Protocol ‘Black Storm’ emits a storm away from the city, not towards,” Reina said. “It’s possible to let vessels and people leave the city, so if Victor pushes for it, we can have a vial of healing seawater sent out to your hometown by a trusted courier. We’ll pick someone from that special organisation with a ninety-five percent successful delivery rate, and they only run for us, so you can trust the package will get to your mother faster than anyone else can make it happen."

“But… I won’t hear anything from mama because letters can’t come back in?”

“Unfortunately not. That courier will have to stay outside until ‘Black Storm’ is deactivated as well.”

Marisol’s face was reflected in Reina’s shimmery, sky-blue eyes, and she felt she could tell even without the Archive running calculations for her—the Imperator had no intention on going back on her word, in much the same way Victor was adamant on taking her under his wing for whatever reason.

If it was the two of them she was standing behind, though she’d only just met them…

…

Maybe it’d be fine if she let them handle the vial of healing seawater.

So she nodded slowly, closing her eyes as she bowed at Reina.

“Save my mama,” she breathed,” and I’ll cooperate as much as you need me to.”

In response, Reina actually looked a little flustered—brows raised, earlobes red—and Victor had to dart up from his chair to push his niece out of the room, waving back at her as he did.

“We can talk more once I get your induction settled with the Imperators,” he said, ignoring Reina’s protests as he glanced over his shoulder. “Stay here. Don’t leave the room until I come fetch you in a few days. You’ll be given three meals a day by the staff, and someone will come up to swap out your sheets and towels every single morning, so… I dunno. Entertain yourself somehow. Have your Archive fill your head with fun facts about the city while you’re staring out the window.”

Marisol opened her mouth in an attempt to stop the two of them from leaving, but they hooked the door shut with a quiet slam, and by the time she yanked it back open, they were already nowhere to be seen along the lengthy hallway.

… Like uncle, like niece, I suppose.

[Most Imperators are fleet-footed like that.]

Sighing, she pulled the door close and leaned against it, looking tiredly around her room as she wondered about her next move.

And… there really wasn’t one.

If she took Reina’s word for it, the matter with her mama’s vial of healing seawater was already all but settled. That whole process was out of her hands now. The only thing she could do, now, was sit still and wait for Victor to come back with some actual information on what she was being held here for.

She’d heard a bit from their conversation while she was taking a shower, but it wasn’t nearly enough for her to get a proper picture of what was actually going on.

[I suppose now is as good a time as any to brush you up on the workings of the Whirlpool City, then.]

[Please pay attention. I will now explain the birth and origin of the legendary city of the Deepwater Legion Front–]

Not now, she thought, grumbling her breath as she slid forward and collapsed face-down on the impossibly soft bed. Her muscles immediately gave out; she was more tired than she’d thought. Tell me… tomorrow.

Sleep right now.

[... As you wish.]

And tonight—for the first night in a long, long while—she didn’t have any nightmares as she slept.