Canary in a Coal Mine. [Florian]

[Eitan Angevin]

80th Searing, 121 Steel

Angevin hadn't really given Albrecht an option. He showed up at his apartment on Verowa End, out of uniform, and as shabbily dressed as Albrecht had ever seen him. He was planning to get dirty, and told the Lysanrin so. He bade him bring his firearm and follow, and all he really said was that they would be training. They went from Verowa End through Kara's Cull and then into the Old Mine. The tracks remained by there were no longer carts as they walked toward the settlement that stood between Zaichaer and the Warrens. People looked at them funny; there were more Druskai and Mortallen down here than any other races, but, ironically perhaps, nobody bothered them because Albrecht accompanied the human-seeming man.

There were guards where the mines met the Warrens, but nobody asked them any questions as they passed. What a person did was their own business, at least insofar as they were concerned, and Angevin knew not to expect help or extrication should things go awry. But mages were one thing; there were also aetherborn beasts and other dangers that they would encounter in the line of service to the High City. If nothing else, perhaps they would encounter dragonshards that Albrecht could try siphoning, and certainly there were corrupted creatures down there to battle if they came across them.

Battle had been one thing. Now he wanted to see how Albrecht would do in the Warrens as the expedition would take them into the Warrens, albeit far from Zaichaer proper.

Bioluminescent flora clustered along the walls, ceilings, stalactites, and stalagmites of the caverns providing an almost eerie glow, which precluded the need to bring lanterns. It was too faint for Albrecht to see the faint flush on Angevin's cheeks. He wasn't exactly a thrill-seeker, but this would be a challenge for him as well. Challenges would test them and make them stronger, and prepare them for what was to come.

Angevin began to whistle the melody of a famous song from the stage that had seeped into the general consciousness whether one was a theatergoer or not. Its cheery tone was a strange juxtaposition to the setting in which they found themselves.

[Florian]

Florian had not been awake for long when Eitan showed up. Really, he'd just barely finished his small breakfast of zucchini bread that his mother had bade him take home after he had told her about his visit to the Windworks the day before. At least he was dressed, and with his hair uncombed (not unusual, at least) and his pistol holstered, he was on his way. He didn't ask many questions, and something told him that Eitan would not answer them, anyway. But paranoia tinged his thoughts as they approached the entrance into the Warrens. It was not his first excursion into them, though he had spent very little time — one of his earliest experiences with aether siphoning was centered around his discovery of what he could do with a small dragonshard. He briefly wondered if that had anything to do with their trip, but it was plain enough that they were going to be training. Not an unwelcome fact, though he was as wary of the Warrens as anyone else, and the necessity of such a challenge confounded him.

Florian's eyes were soon awash with silver. If anything, he wanted to keep an eye out for aetheric glow of dragonshards. He would not feel entirely safe in the Warrens without the comforting crackle of foreign aether in his veins. And, with any luck, they would come across them. He looked at Eitan as they traversed further through the bioluminscent glow, and he spotted the tell-tale, albeit weak, cluster of aetheric glimmer not so far off in the distance. He gestured in their direction.

"I will be trying to keep some stores of aether on me while we're down here," He said, more of a declaration than a question of permission. "It will be safer for both of us if I do." With that said, he headed in the direction of the dragonshard cluster, though he paid careful attention to their surroundings. So shallow into the depths he wasn't expecting an impossible amount of trouble, but he also wanted to absorb the aether before anything had the chance to sneak up on him. The dragonshards sprouted from the ground like a strange plant, and Florian had no means to mine them directly. The aether was weak and almost even muddy-feeling, and he kneeled near the crystalized aether. He was not making a show of it, and there were multiple dragonshards sprung from the ground here. It would only take a few minutes to absorb all of them, though Eitan would once again witness the silvering of his veins. Even as his hands were occupied with the siphoning, his eyes watched.

"Why did you bring me down here?" He finally asked, crouched over the still-embedded dragonshards as his silvered skin glowed faintly in the dark. "Is there a reason, or do you just want a challenge?"

[Eitan Angevin]

"You may," he said wryly, following Albrecht to the worn-out vein of dragonshards. There was nothing truly powerful this near the surface. The best had long since been carried away, though they did slowly grow back; very slowly with someone like Albrecht nearby. Musing, he thought he might include a suggestion to patrol the mines. The Druskai and Mortallen were all well and good, but they weren't as loyal to the State as Watchers of Purity would be. Warder-Lysanrin couples could easily drain the nearest veins on a regular basis, as well, transferring the raw power through the Lysanrin to wardings and other works of State-sanctioned magic, making that easy source of energy less of a threat. They didn't want a group of Lysanrin with chips on their shoulders to come to soak up as much aether as they could store and then start discharging it on the West End.

"What sort of dragonshards are they?" he asked, curious as to the answer, but more curious as to whether Albrecht could tell, as if the dragonshards had different flavors of energy about them.

When the Lysanrin was brimming with borrowed power, he answered his next question with a haughty scoff. "Isn't it obvious?" he asked. "We came down here to fuck."

He let that sink in before rolling his eyes.

"There are actual dangers down here and we can actually do some good paring them down. We get better at working together, the community in the Old Mines is a little safer for a while. Two birds, one stone. And yes, when we are in the Warrens, you may locate a suitable source of power to siphon so you are prepared to deal with dangers.

"And look... we fucked. I'm not going to apologize for it because you were clearly into it, but if me joking about it is going to put your back up, I'll stop. But if you're getting upset about something else and a little vulgar humor is just the straw that broke the slave's back, then you need to tell me what's really upsetting you because I'm not fucking psychic."

[Florian]

"Ah...usual...I guess? I don't usually absorb dragonshards, but these don't really feel like anything but aether." Florian didn't have words for the types of dragonshards, and it wasn't as if he had seen or absorbed many. These seemed to have no sort of smell or "flavor" at all, and they lacked any impressions or fingerprints he associated with Eitan's wards or the wards of the airship. He knew on some level that different dragonshards could be more attuned to different elements, and that they existed in more powerful forms, but Florian didn't really have any experience in comparing them. Perhaps he could find some that looked-smelled-felt different and compare the experience, but so close to the entrance, it was unlikely.

He knew that Eitan was joking, but he squinted at him with his silver eyes, the expression mostly lost in the low-light. His real explanation made sense in some way, though the implication that Eitan cared about what happened to people near the Old Mines felt out of place. It wasn't a pertinent thought, and he dropped it, because suddenly he was talking about them fucking and Florian realized he had no idea how to answer what he was asking.

"I don't know," Florian stood up and brushed dust from the pant leg he had kneeled on. "No, you don't have to apologize for anything." The silver overrode anything he may have been feeling that could have shown in his eyes. "I think I'm just frustrated. I want to be taken seriously, but I'm either an oddity or an experiment or a pet or, what, a monster under the bed? I had nothing to do with history, and yet history is still carried on my shoulders." He let his words fall out, honest and stream-of-consciousness.

"What I mean is that I've had a lot on my mind and sometimes joking like that just rubs me the wrong way. It's not that important." Now with the aether absorbed, Florian was somewhat more prepared to face the further depths of the Warrens. He didn't know quite what to expect, though he kept up pace regardless. The Warrens were deserving of both admiration and scrutiny, and Florian kept both in mind as he watched in two worlds.

[Eitan Angevin]

"Pure aetherite, most likely," he mused, his eyes cutting hither and thither, though Albrecht would be more likely to spot something amiss given the way aether worked down here. "The rarer stuff would've been mined out long ago." He liked the idea that something pure grew close to Zaichaer, as if the genius of the High City brought order even to the wildness of magic. It had certainly civilized his mother's blood out of him for the most part.

"We, all of us, carry the burden of history," he said. It might have sounded sententious coming from him, but he believed it. Perhaps he even commiserated with Albrecht on some level. He had certainly belabored the point, hoping to drill it into his subordinate's understanding that he was trying to help. But sometimes help didn't look or feel helpful; he knew that, as well. That had been his childhood. And Albrecht didn't know about his trials and tribulations, the sacrifices he had made in order to be worthy of citizenship in Zaichaer.

Angevin drew his pistol, and then he drew a dagger that Albrecht had never seen before. It was enchanted and its edge was made of a blue-black dragonshard. He held it up.

"This has abjinurium in it. Do not eat it. Magebane might give you something worse than indigestion. While we're talking about your diet, avoid green ones. Pesticyte. Poison." He squinted. "In fact, best you stick to the pure stuff for the time being. If we see anything other than aetherite, give me a minute and I can identify it and we can see..."

That might make all this an experiment too, but at least Albrecht would learn more about his limits when it came to aether siphoning.

[Florian]

"I suppose some burdens are easier to carry, then."

Despite his practice, Florian still found the practice of such constant view of aether to be disorienting. It shimmered in colors far more vivid than he had seen in his life in Zaichaer, and even the dim glow of latent aether could be distracting if he was not focused on becoming enraptured by the patterns. It was something that took getting used to, and Zaichaer was not a city of vibrant magic. He had found, though, that his more frequent use of his abilities had rewarded him with even more vibrancy, more detail in the aether he saw. And it buzzed and rang audibly, but not quite — like he was hearing things through sensations beyond his pointed ears. The same could be said for the edge of the dagger that Eitan pulled, but it was not vibrant. It felt dark.

"Magebane." He repeated. Just looking at the weapon's aether took effort, far more effort than it took to look at anything else. He peeled his eyes away. "Green, poison. Got it." He wondered if consuming poisoned aether would poison him, as well. Consuming fire did not burn him, but perhaps dragonshards were more potent. In fact, he wondered how the magic he siphoned affected him at all. It surely had to, but he didn't feel much different, and he had no one to compare himself to. He briefly wondered if Thysbae would know, but he really didn't know if the short, other Lysanrin knew much of anything. He seemed to be very childish, and very unaware.

"So you know the different dragonshards, then? Is that something they taught you?" He could, not-too-distantly, see a transition in the environment. The glow stopped at some juncture, and only darkness and vague glimmers of aether pervaded his vision from that range. It was there, he realized, that they would come across real danger. They approached the darkness still and he tried to swallow his fear. Such a feeling was meant to protect him, but he had recently felt a growing desire to control it. He drew his pistol as well, but he was not so sure in his shot to take much comfort in it. Florian was much more comfortable with the aether that yet buzzed in his body.

[Eitan Angevin]

Angevin gave him a withering glance. Of course, there were those born with more privilege than others. Whining about it wasn't going to make the world a better place, but he didn't say anything about it now. There was danger afoot and all that. Perhaps he ought to spend more time in combat training with Albrecht, give him an outlet for all that frustrated rage. That wouldn't solve anything, necessarily, but it might vent all that negative energy into something that would help keep him alive since he had elected to serve in the military.

"Aye," he said as if they were on the airship. "To protect the citizenry from magic, I had to learn about magic. To shut down magical threats, I had to become a mage." His mouth twisted on that word. There were those in the Order who toed the party line, but reveled in the power their runes gave them. To Angevin, it was a necessary burden, a scar upon his soul to mark his service to the State. He was a servant of the people, but he didn't go into all that. This wasn't the place for a philosophical debate.

When he saw Albrecht hesitate, he swung his gaze in the direction those silver eyes were searching. He made sure they were walking shoulder to shoulder so they would meet the dangers as a team.

"There are creatures down here that play upon negative emotions," he warned. "Anger. Fear. Horror. Be mindful of your feelings. I'm here. I've been down here before. Keep your eyes peeled and your weapons ready—all of them."

When they came to the spot that had drawn Albrecht's gaze, there was nothing there. Angevin led him down the right fork in the path, having a mental map of where they were as well as a physical one in the pack slung between his shoulders.

The cavernous floor gradually gave way to broken flagstones, and then they stepped through a massive crack in what looked like an actual man-made wall into a small gallery that had sconces looking as though they had seen recent use. The hand holding the abjinurium-edged blade touched his shoulder, and perhaps there was a tingle of something from the nearness of that negative dragonshard. When Albrecht looked, he tapped a finger to his ear and pointed. Faintly, when their steps and their breathing abated, he could hear it...

Angevin crept soft-footed to the next doorway and took a surreptitious peek, then slowly came back and whispered: "Shamblers."

He indicated Albrecht should look, and through that doorway everything became cavern again, and there were half a dozen of the things, amalgamations of flesh, blood, and bone jutting out at weird angles, walking like some perverted caricature of life.

[Florian]

Florian thought of the irony that Eitan knew more about his own magical capabilities than he did. He had a feeling it would prove to be helpful, but it was also baffling to the man who had learned himself what he could do. He had expected to need to do the same for a long time, even as he would eventually master the power he was born with. But Eitan had names for those things that he could only vaguely describe. He also did not seem to enjoy the power afforded him, even as he imagined he appreciated the way it allowed him to protect the people he cared about. Even Florian was not entirely free from Zaichaeri propoganda, and loose mages and free use of magic was a foreign, frightening concept. He did not think the Order was good, but he also did not think that whatever rumors and legends he had heard of Kalzasi were any less dreadful.

Anger and fear were emotions that plagued Florian, even as he struggled to wrest control over them. The fact that there were creatures that would take those and use them to their advantage did little to help him reign in the emotions, but it did make him more determined to keep an eye out for such things. He had little basis for the assumption that he would be able to see them manipulate aether before he could fall prey, but he also had no reason to believe that such a creature that could play on such negative emotions would do so non-magically. Florian took a deep breath to focus on the matter at hand, which was now whatever Eitan had heard past the odd, broken building they were in.

Florian had little experience discerning purity of aether within his vision of aether, but the wisps of it that formed what Eitan had called "shamblers" was the first time he would say that it was truly dirty. Where the magebane had been dark, the shamblers were muddy and muddled, with an aetheric smell that almost made him retch as much as the disfigured sight of them. Florian had smelled blood and death and burning flesh before, but seeing these through both realms was repulsive. It was not just them that crept in the dark, however, and he could see yet another dim outcrop of aether — hopefully dragonshards — through the cavern past them.

He crept back to Eitan and whispered, "What do we do about them?" and then, he gestured into the distance past where they crept. "There are more dragonshards. Weak, but I can still hold more aether than what I have in me now."

[Eitan Angevin]

"I had hoped you would blast them," he said quietly, then sighed. "The dragonshards are past them?"

Considering for a moment, he nodded.

"Then we turn the corner, move quickly and expeditiously—and quietly—past them. I'll cover you while you suck up more juice, but you'll have to blast them. Our rounds will injure them if they're well placed. My wards can protect us. My dagger might damage them enough to kill them, but otherwise, we will be relying on you to deliver the coups de grâce."

Looking his private up and down to be certain he was ready, he added, "If they start to give chase, focus on the... legs or whatever they are using to move. Just slow them down so we can get to the dragonshards and then I'll cover you while you power up and then it will be up to you, got it?"

That said, he quietly turned the corner and hugged the wall of the cavern, taking the direction that would give them the most leeway around the little knot of shamblers. It was also, thankfully, sparse on the glowing fungi that low on the wall. He was quite careful where he put his feet, glancing up to mark the shamblers and then back down every couple of seconds as he made for as much speed as possible.

He didn't look back to make sure Albrecht was following him. If he wasn't, there would be hell to pay. And if taking on the shamblers alone might have been dangerous, he knew he could ward himself well enough to get past them and out of the Warrens entirely. He just wanted his charge to get some practice in using the tools at his disposal. As they got closer, he was able to make an assessment of them: which would be fastest in the shambling department; where he should aim to disable each of them.

Angevin only hoped it would be as easy as sneaking past them to power Albrecht up.

[Florian]

Florian considered the instruction. He hadn't blasted anything with aether at full strength, so it would be a learning experience for both of them. With Eitan's considerations in mind, he followed him around the corner and along the wall. But despite Santhia's advice all those years ago, and despite his size, Florian was not stealthy, and he was not well experienced in being stealthy in caverns. They had made it about two-thirds of the way when he tripped over a stone in the dark. Perhaps it was fate, as it was also the point they were closest to the shamblers — but Florian tumbled onto the floor of the cave with a short, albeit hushed, string of expletives. If the shamblers had not noticed them before, they noticed them now.

He pulled himself up with the haste of someone who had just royally fucked up, but even with his alacrity, the shamblers certainly shambled towards him, the target of whatever senses they may have had. Not that Florian could tell, and he didn't spend time dwelling on it. If he had real experience with anything, it was running away from things that wanted to kill him. The matter that they were slow besides the point, Florian was on his feet and betrayed their mission of stealth for a mission of speed.

At the very least he'd managed not to drop his pistol. Florian was still not adept at aiming, especially while moving, so he relied on his task of reaching the dragonshards before the monsters could turn around and amble after him. Just as Eitan had not checked to see if he followed him, he trusted him to keep the shamblers distracted while he was kneeled before the dragonshards. Luckily for the both of them, Florian recognized that these dragonshards were the same as the last, and he got to work. Immediately he noticed that they featured a stronger, clearer vision of the aether than the last ones, and as he started to absorb the first shard of the cluster, he realized it took him longer. He gave up on the idea of trying to siphon as much as he could, and focused on having enough. He also had to wait until they were disabled, slowed, and distracted enough that he could get close enough to hit more than one. Such a task required that he was in the middle of things, and such a spot held the honor of being both his least and most favorite place to be.