Legend of Ransera

The Low-City
62 Ash 121

It had been a month since he and Elwes had gone down below the Midden following a line of inquiry that ended in quite the mess. They had escaped with their lives and the life of an unlikely ally, Yshvold. The boy wonder had been coy about his living situation, which Aurin couldn't fault him for. Elwes had stayed behind in Hahseu to cover tracks and keep an ear to the ground. The man and the boy had warily accompanied each other to the surface lest the bogeyman be laying in wait between the Midden and the fairer smelling parts of Kalzasi. They had given each other ways to get in touch, Aurin's more concrete than Yshvold's, but again, he couldn't hold that against him.

Now various lines of inquiry had taken him down to the Midden despite his better judgment, and he had new information regarding the key. It had been about a month since they had parted, and he didn't know whether the boy was alive, too proud to ask for help, or just doing whatever he had to do to survive, but Aurin went down into the Low-City with both his tricks in play. He wore the mask of the person he had been down in the Midden, though he had revealed his true face after the fact. He also let his semblance trick reach out to the world around him to feed him information his senses might otherwise miss. He didn't know if the kid could see through his glamours, but he knew he could eat them, so it was largely a matter of semantics.

All the same, he went out there into the evening like a torch for Lysanrin senses, wondering if Yshvold would sense him first or he might feel the familiar cadence of the boy's aura first. It was less a matter of pride and more of a curiosity. Knowing was half the battle, and Aurin liked knowing things.

Elwes kept an eye of the Low-City for him more than she went down into the Midden, and she had sent word of a vigilante who spent their evenings in the Low-City, especially in certain neighborhoods. He didn't know that it was Yshvold; if it wasn't, then he would find out and kill two birds with one stone—not that he wanted to kill Yshvold or any vigilante. Far be it from him to judge.

Even if he had tried to judge Arcas Reborn.

And lived to tell the tale.

The Low-City wasn't small, but he knew it fairly well. Juggling his semblance and masquerade tricks at the same time was a challenge, but that was good for him. Challenges helped one get better, and getting better made it less likely one would get dead. He had no desire to meet Wraeden anytime soon.

Yshvold had said a few things about his tricks down in the Midden, and a few more things in his sleep. Apparently, their experiences of it were quite different. The semblance trick felt so passive to him, just opening himself up to his surroundings. The challenge was more allowing himself the vulnerability of that and then having the context and time to figure out what he was sensing. Yshvold had made it sound like some tentacle monster from the Warrens or a summoner's kennel. He didn't know if that was just particular to how Lysanrin saw things with their own inborn abilities or maybe even prejudice against rune magic since they apparently couldn't survive an initiation.

He was no mage; he didn't know. He just hoped the kid would sense him and come running instead of running away. Not that he would blame him.

Something flickered on the edge of his awareness and he stopped, peering down a dark alley.

'Twould be just like Yshvold to sense him first and then flirt with the edges of his awareness. Well, he didn't know the lad well, but it seemed like him.

Aurin walked into the darkness and there, dropped his tricks as a show of good faith.

"Kid?"

He knew his name, of course, but he was used to calling him Kid and he supposed Yshvold might recognize him better if that was what he heard.

"I've got news."

From the shadows, he came into a bit of light, at least enough to see Yshvold by. He leaned against a wall, crossing his arms over his chest and his legs at the ankles casually. Remembering how flighty the kid had been, he left him plenty of room to exist and plenty of room to escape if that was his will.

"She knows whereabouts I am and who I'm looking for," he allowed. "But she's not my lackey. She doesn't follow me around like a dog. And I don't know what you're talking about touching people with magic. I just pour a little of myself into the rune and my senses open up. Figured either I'd pick up some sense of you or you'd be hungry for magic and you'd scent it. Either way, hi."

He smirked, but really that was just the path of least resistance for his face. Honest smiles were few and far between because the world didn't deserve many of those.

"Just wanted to warn you in case you were thinking of diving back down into the muck... There's something down there way above our pay grade. Not going to tell you what to do but it's a surefire death wish. That key from the bogeyman... it's magic was beyond my mean tricks to suss out. Shielded or warded or something. Showed someone with actual magical clout and it scared him shitless." He might have been exaggerating Talon's response, but the demigod princeling had seemed perturbed, at least.

"Said the key led to darkness and vengeance deep in the Midden, maybe even in the Warrens beneath. Blistered his hand to warn him away from that line of inquiry, though it was cool to the touch when he dropped it back into my hand." He rubbed at his jaw angrily; he didn't like this at all.

"So there you have it: the news. Anyway, sounds like you're fighting your fights over here these days. People are noticing, so be careful. You need a bolt-hole far from here, get up to the Plaza of Jeweled Arches. Alley back behind the Three Sisters. There's a red-roofed cottage. It's mine. I'm not there all the time, but if I am, well, you know I probably won't murder you in your sleep." He smirked again and pushed off the wall to leave. He didn't know what he had expected, but Yshvold didn't seem pleased to see him, so he wouldn't bother him further.

Aurin's mouth opened to answer, then he blinked. Yshvold turned on a dime, and he moved to keep up and, if possible, keep ahead. The kid might be precocious, but he wasn't a fucking idiot either.

"Wait, all of that intel and you want to know more about where I live?" He laughed, a short bark. "Of course there's a bed."

The questions themselves belied the cool exterior. Aurin got it. He had been similar as a boy.

"There's food there now, and generally when I buy it. I didn't have strings attached, just said you had a place to lay low for a while if you ever need it. If you feel obligated, you can always bring me more intel. I'm sort of in the business. And I guess you can hold the key if you prove trustworthy. I don't have anything too valuable in there, but if you don't try to hustle me and sell it for some coin, I might be more inclined to give you the key."

He squinted at Yshvold.

"Did you want to come to check it out now?" he asked dubiously. He had put in some work since his new job had brought much more money in; there weren't a lot of valuable things lying about, but the plumbing was solid and the kitchen was better prepared for actual cooking now that he wasn't just relying on what was available at the Velvet Cabaret. He could take a walk and have a drink, leave Yshvold with the key so he could take a bath and maybe change into some of Aurin's old clothes—they'd be too big, but they'd be clean. He could bring hot food home from one of the local taverns, feed the kid, get him settled, then go sleep elsewhere. He had options. It didn't look like Yshvold did.

He could already hear Arry's tart comments, but Mists, if Yshvold wanted a job and could bring him good intel, he could pay the kid well enough to keep his own place and he knew from experience as a kid like that how much that might mean to him, to be able to support himself well on his wits. He just needed a break.

This was moving fast, but Aurin could deal with it.

"Right, beds are important." He squinted again at the need for aether, but he considered as the questions kept coming.

"I need to know everything," he said. It was true in a sense. "But if the Low-City is too hot for you right now, we'll have to figure out where you'll fit in best, the better to listen. I can train you to sift through what you see and hear to figure out what's worth something and what's dross. Sometimes people need to disappear, but that's a last resort." Fuck, this kid was too eager.

"I'm not a mage," he said, which might be at odds with his tricks, but that's all they were to him: tricks. He didn't study magic. He had a couple of runes that he knew basically how to work to his advantage. "I don't know how to... quantify... aether. I can feed you, clothe you, put a roof over your head. We can negotiate on the aether, I suppose."

He pushed off the wall again and turned to go.

"I don't have anything you need to do tonight, so why don't you come and check out the place and see if it's enough. If the deal seems good to you, we'll figure out the rest and you'll likely have a place of your own and plenty of food by the time Frost rolls around and kills those less fortunate than you, the ones still sleeping on garbage." He didn't say it with judgment; he had been there. But if Yshvold owed him one, it'd be easier to mold him into a good informant, and if they didn't end up working together indefinitely, it'd be good skills for the kid and he might show up with good intel to sell later.

Aurin didn't believe everything had to be a zero-sum game.