32 – Hunter disappoints a lesbian, re-names his horse

When Hunter went into Kastri on Saturday, he did so with the goal of connecting with the local underworld.

Well, that and finding out what Selene was blackmailing him over, but mostly it was the connections thing.

And so he headed to what was, in his experience, the shadiest district in any waterside city: the docks.

However, once he got there, he swiftly concluded that what passed for ‘shady’ here didn’t quite align with his sensibilities.

If one ignored the drunks loitering in the gutters and alleyways, and the sailors and day laborers wandering around roughhousing and cursing, Kastri’s docks were surprisingly nice. There was no garbage in the streets, no scent of sewage in the air, barely any rats, and the only random guy who followed him for a few streets darted off the moment Hunter summoned a tentacle.

Maybe it was because of where he’d grown up, but it all felt a little disappointing. 

They did have organized crime here, right? He felt they ought to, since the Kastri Guard was corrupt as hell, which meant regular folks couldn’t rely on them for protection, which meant that they’d naturally try to organize to protect themselves on their own, which would go wrong the moment some violent shithead realized they could exploit that to make a lot of money, thus completing the circle of gang violence he’d encountered countless times in his past.

Unfortunately, no matter how much he looked around, he didn’t see any of the telltale signs he was used to. No groups of scary guys protecting certain corners, no barely concealed drug deals, nobody soliciting for sex, and not a single fellow selling stolen goods out of a—well, if not a truck, a carriage, at least.

Either crime worked differently here, or whoever was in charge was very good at keeping things under wraps. 

It wasn’t until he started looking more closely at legitimate businesses that he found a clue, which was how he eventually ended up in a pleasant little cafe sharing a plate of snacks and a chess board with a cheerful old Urran man.

“Thymimatan food is decent, and so is Hesperian food, but Aeonian cuisine? They all act like if their food gets too heavy, it might try to bite them back! So they only eat ‘light’ food, so light it’s like you’re eating air, so what does that taste like? Air, of course, bah!” the man said, gesturing in disgust.

All the buildings in the affluent part of the city were white or grey, but the closer one got to the ocean the more colorful they became, their aging stone plastered over in soft warm tones reminiscent of a collection of seashells. This shop was a creamy orange similar to Hebe’s fur, and it was situated just by a public access fishing dock with the dunes, beach, and surf only about a hundred yards away. 

Back home this commercial beachside property would have been worth millions, but here it was dirt cheap because the closer you were to the wards the more likely you were to suffer if something got in, and salt water was so hard on the pylons that the ones in the ocean were more prone to failure than the rest.

Hunter and the man were sitting on the empty semi-enclosed second floor, kept company by a fat black bob-tailed cat who was watching them play.

“That would explain why Aeonians are all so obsessed with tea,” Hunter replied, making a move on the board with a piece of colorful crystal.

He’d never played Urran chess before, and Ianthe only had a vague idea of the rules, so needless to say he was losing terribly.

“Now, now, there I must disagree. Tea can be very good, but tea is an ingredient like anything else. It needs the right kind of brewing and spices and cream and sugar to bolster it, otherwise there’s no real texture, no way to even tell you’ve had something to drink! And yet, my grandchildren insist they prefer it Aeonian-style. They say things like”— the old man raised the pitch of his voice as he made his own move, setting a stone down hard enough to send the many beaded bracelets on his wrist jingling—“‘Ohh, what about this one, Grandfather Banda? This one’s first flush Morning Sun, this one’s hand-rolled Silver Dew, try them on their own, surely you’ll like them—‘ No! The way they brew it, it just tastes like leaf farts! Everyone here is drinking fart-water!”

Hunter laughed and reached out to make another move.

Ever since the embargo, the local cafes had to cut down on their menus, which meant almost no one was selling coffee anymore. The only exception to this seemed to be a few Urran-owned places, who still had it listed in their menus, albeit now for an eye-watering price.

This wasn’t too surprising considering that Ur, a country to the east that shared a gulf with Thymimata, had a social culture that revolved around coffee like it was the Sun itself. Expensive or not, it made sense that they were unwilling to go without.

However, as Hunter had loitered outside this cafe watching people come and go, he’d noticed that none of their customers seemed to be bothered by this ridiculous price hike. Considering how much they ought to be paying, there should have been a few arguments, haggling attempts, or at the very least, grumpy faces.

This got his money laundering senses a-tingling, and so he’d gone in and, despite the waitress’ nervous attempts to talk him out of it, proceeded to buy the single most expensive cup of coffee he’d ever purchased in his life. Then he took a seat and waited to see if anyone would come to investigate him, and was soon awarded with Banda’s acquaintance.

So far, Hunter liked the man. The way his tone seesawed between high and low depending on how sarcastic he was being reminded Hunter a lot of his own grandfather, and his gregarious personality made him easy to chat with. Banda didn’t really strike him as the criminal type, but Hunter knew it wasn’t uncommon for regular people to get sucked into that sort of thing, especially when their livelihoods were at risk.

“Well, I guess everyone’s drinking that except you and me, huh?” Hunter said, tilting the coffee cup in his hand toward Banda.

“Yes, yes—how is it, by the way? So far, you’ve only praised my food, it’s making this old man worry his skills are fading,” Banda said with a smile. He blinked his dark red eyes at Hunter through bottle-thick lenses, the many beads and tiny bells on his considerable amount of jewelry clacking and chiming with even his smallest movements.

“No need to worry, you did a bang up job brewing this… heck, I’d say it’s almost worth the arm and leg you charged me for it.”

Banda laughed and made a move on the board, calmly sweeping up a handful of pieces. “You know, Mr. Anthy, at first I thought you were with the Guard, but you didn’t ask for a bribe. Then I thought, maybe he’s just wealthy and desperate? But by your complaint, I see the answer is, ‘just desperate.’”

“How can you insult me while I’m already losing? Aren't you just kicking a man while he’s down?” Hunter griped, staring at the swiftly dwindling crystal pieces he had left. “At this rate, I’m going to let Kuli start making moves for me.”

The black bobtailed cat, Kuli, had been quietly extending a paw towards the board for a while now, attempting to grab the pieces, but prior to this Hunter had been blocking him.

Now Hunter just watched as Kuli decisively swatted a piece forward, and both he and Banda fell silent for a moment.

Then Banda stroked his moss-colored beard and sighed. “Mr. Anthy, I’m sorry to say this, but the cat plays better than you do.”

“Alright, I forfeit—Kuli, the board’s yours now,” Hunter replied, throwing up his hands. “And for the record, I’m not from the Guard, I’m from Aegis.”

“Oh?” Banda asked, trying to feign disinterest, but the sharp glint in his owlish eyes gave him away. “And what do you do for the university?”

“Purchasing decisions,” Hunter said with a wide smile.

He was, once again, preparing to meddle somewhere Ianthe wouldn’t, but what was the point of power if he didn’t abuse it for his own personal gain?

Giving Kuli a scratch on the head, he continued, “Thanks to the embargo, the campus is all out of coffee. Really, how can I ask my students to study without it? It’s inhumane.”

“I see—I take it the price was too high?”

“That, and the quality of both the beans and the seller was too low,” Hunter said, which was true, because like the caffeine addict he was he’d tried to convince the kitchen manager to try stocking it again and just charging more, only to receive a long lecture on why they couldn’t. “Our current supplier has been on thin ice for a while, and with them trying to take advantage of us now, I’ve started looking into alternative options.”

“Hmm... It’s a shame, then, that all my connections are among fellow Urrans. Otherwise, I might have been able to recommend some vendors I know,” Banda said, letting out a deep sigh.

Hunter’s eyes flickered, a little surprised by the man’s reluctance. 

Banda wasn’t trying to hide the fact that something illegal was going on here, so what was the problem?

It wasn’t until he made an effort to actively poke around Ianthe’s memories that he realized what was wrong, and he had to resist the urge to slap his face with his palm.

Most of the Urrans in Kastri had immigrated there because they were part of a religious minority group, one that had suffered a great deal during a civil war that happened there some time ago. While Cydonia was a theocracy like Ur, it didn’t forbid any worship except that of a few of their own banished gods, which made it a popular haven for people like this man.

The downside was that Banda’s religion forbade their people from joining Cydonia’s Covenant, which meant that they were cut off from a great deal of the systems most Cydonians enjoyed, including their banks. It was common for Cydonian businesses to refuse to work with them based on this inconvenience, and his own university was one of those culprits.

Oy vey, Hunter cringed, pinching his eyebrows together.

Back home this sort of thing might have ended up dragging his school in front of the Supreme Court, but here this sort of discrimination was perfectly legal. Except for the groups being excluded, very few Cydonians considered it a problem.

However, he couldn’t just ignore what was going on now that he’d noticed.

In fact, he was pretty sure that like Banda, he also wasn’t supposed to enter into covenants with any other gods, but in his defense, Yahweh had done the theological equivalent of forgetting to pick him up from school, so he wasn’t going to blame himself for finding another ride home.

“That won’t be a problem in the future,” Hunter declared unilaterally, uninterested in the social ramifications such a stance might make once made public and heedless of how such a sudden policy change could affect the workload of his own employees. “The campus will be making some changes, and working with people who aren’t a part of the Covenant is one of them.”

“Really?” Banda sighed and sat back in his chair, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “I hope you won’t take offense if I admit that I’m skeptical.”

“Well, maybe it would help if I gave you my card,” Hunter said and, pulling one out, infused it with his mana before handing it over.

Banda accepted it, and his eyes widened briefly upon reading it, but that was his only reaction, which made Hunter very happy.

This, he felt, was how things were supposed to be. On campus a lot of people recognized him, but down in the city he was treated with the general caution people felt towards strangers instead of abject fear. 

It was incredibly refreshing.

“Well… this is certainly… hmm,” Banda mumbled, rubbing the card between his fingers. “May I ask what prompted this change?”

“Well, uh, first of all… I want to apologize for having that policy in the first place,” Hunter said, coughing awkwardly. “I, personally, have never cared whether or not someone was part of the Covenant, but I wasn’t here—able, I mean I wasn’t able to challenge that practice until now.”

He paused, then admitted, “Also, I had a falling out with the guy who was getting me coffee beans, and I’m almost out of my own supply.”

Banda’s bushy eyebrows went up, and he blinked slowly at Hunter from behind his thick glasses.

“I… see. Well, while I appreciate your honesty, I wouldn’t want to promise anything until I’ve checked in with my wife first—I hope you understand.”

“That’s alright, you’ve got my card, don’t you? Just contact me once you have an answer,” Hunter said, waving off the man’s concern. “As long as you can put me in touch with your supplier, I’m willing to compensate you however you want. If it’s a referral fee, we can talk numbers, or if you’d rather negotiate for something else that’s fine too—heck, I could even have the university issue a public apology for our previous policy, if you like.”

“Something else?” Banda murmured, studying the card, “You… wouldn’t happen to have a say in admissions, would you?”

“Well… so long as whoever it is meets the basic qualifications, yes. It’s a competitive environment, it would be too unkind if they couldn’t keep up…”

“Say no more, I understand.” Banda stood and stowed the card in his clothes, a little bit of excited urgency creeping into his tone. “In that case, give me a little time, maybe I can have an answer for you today.”

Hunter agreed, reassuring the man that he’d be sticking around for a while to meet with someone else, and with that they parted.

Left to his own devices, he drank his coffee and petted Kuli while furiously wracking his brain for any other policy landmines he might have overlooked, feeling that if he was going to wrong someone he’d at least like to do so on purpose.

Selene arrived for their meeting not too long after Banda left, and the first thing he noticed was that she wasn’t looking very good. There was a mournful air about her, as though she’d just received some terrible news, and the lines of her face were deepened with fatigue.

He waved at her from across the empty terrace, then gestured to a seat and ordered,

“Sit down.”

She nearly did, but then she paused and frowned at Kuli. She gently scooped him up and deposited him on another table, then sat down, pulled out an artifact, and activated a sound barrier.

Raising an eyebrow, Hunter asked, “You worried the cat’s gonna overhear you?”

“You never know,” she said with a wan smile. “Hello, President. You look like you’re doing well.”

Hunter was about to tell her to get on with it when he noticed something wrong with the silver locket she was wearing.

“Hey, your necklace—I think whatever gem was in there fell out.”

“Oh?” 

She lifted it up, examined it, and her expression became even more depressed.

“You’re right… maybe I lost it on the way.”

“Was it important?” he asked, not because he genuinely cared, but because Anemone made a similar expression whenever she was about to cry and Hunter would rather do basically anything, including but not limited to looking for some random rock, so long as he didn’t have to comfort a crying person.

“Yes, but… it’s fine. Sometimes, you just lose things, there’s no sense in getting upset about it,” she murmured, her purple eyes cast down as her shoulders slumped.

He got the impression that this statement had taken the last of what little energy she had.

“Uh, okay, then—”

“Can you still see demons?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Hunter was still processing her question when a waitress emerged with a tray of tea. Selene took down the barrier so the girl could put it on the table, and then to Hunter’s delight he noticed the waitress had brought him another cup of coffee.

“Grandpa says this one’s on the house,” she whispered with a wink, placing it in front of him. 

As she did, he noticed a slip of paper sticking to the bottom of it. With a flick of his wrist he subtly removed and pocketed the note, replying, “Thank you.”

After the waitress departed, Selene put the barrier back up and immediately asked again: “I just need to know if you can still see demons. I’m not asking you to catch them, just to let me know if you see one, who it is and where they were, and what type of demon it was.”

Hunter, who had not known that he could do such a thing, and in fact wasn’t sure that he really could, nevertheless decided to agree, since it wouldn’t be hard to just say he hadn’t noticed any.

“Alright, if that's what you want? But—”

“I’m looking for a specific one, something with a psychic-type domain, but I still want you to tell me about it even if it’s not that sort. Anyway, I’m not asking you to do this for free—if you help me, I’ll take a look at that mirror of yours, see if I can’t help you figure out what went wrong.”

Hunter, who only vaguely remembered the project Selene was mentioning, tried to get a word in edgewise, “Okay, but—”

“Sorry, I—I think I need to go.” Selene cut him off again, standing so abruptly that she knocked her chair back. She didn’t look at him as she said this, but past him, and the intense distress on her face made him turn around to look as well.

However, he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing but some regular people on the street and a few swimmers in the distance milling about in the sea despite a dark shape floating not too far from them in the pretty turquoise water.

Hunter made a mental note that wards didn’t keep sharks out, and felt like that was kind of a bummer.

By the time he turned back around, Selene had already dropped the barrier and was throwing back her tea in one gulp.

“Wait!”

“Sorry, I—I’m sorry, just contact me when you get something!” she shouted over her shoulder, and then ran off, her silver hair streaming, like she had ghosts nipping at her heels.

…

“Damn it,” he muttered.

He’d been planning to use this conversation to casually trick her into revealing what she was blackmailing him with, but she hadn’t given him the chance.

What the hell had freaked her out so badly?

Then something occurred to him, and he reached up to touch one of his earrings.

It was just a simple, tiny silver circle, but Euphy had given it to him and told him to wear it if he wanted to be treated like a man. He’d worn it into town today as an experiment, and wouldn’t you know it, all the strangers he ran into really did assume he was a guy.

However, he’d quickly forgotten he was wearing it.

Considering the inappropriate feelings he suspected Selene harbored for him, he supposed it could have been pretty shocking for her to see that?

“So she really is a lesbian,” he muttered to himself. “Man, I hope she doesn’t blab about this at the office. That would be a pain.”

As useful as it was, he didn’t want to deal with awkward questions if he ran into any of his other employees, so he took the earring off and put it away for now.

Taking out the note the waitress had given him, he read the terms on it and found them agreeable. After checking in with Banda again to finalize the details of their agreement, he exited the cafe and paused by the side of the road. 

He’d already done a lot of shopping that morning, which wasn’t too much of a burden since he had storage artifacts to carry everything, but he was pretty tired nonetheless, and the city center was a good ways away.

He could always look for a cab, but it felt like a waste of money when he already had his own horse, even if that horse was a little… different.

Namely, she was dead.

That wasn’t a problem for him because he was a necromancer, and Ianthe had done an amazing job of putting her faithful steed, Useless Thing, back together after the mare’s untimely demise. In fact, having an undead mount was in some ways more convenient than having a live one, since unlike the living, the undead could be carried in storage artifacts.

The problem was everybody else. 

Just because necromancy was a thing here didn’t mean most people saw it often, and a lot of regular folks were a little leery of death magic and its practitioners. 

Bracing himself, he activated a storage ring and dropped a large, blackened horse skeleton on the curb in an uncomfortably loud clatter of bone.

Witnessing this, all the people in his immediate vicinity suddenly found themselves with something very urgent to do somewhere else, and wordlessly cleared the area in just a few seconds.

“Aw, come on,” he sighed, feeling a bit embarrassed.

He supposed he couldn’t blame them. If he’d been back home and he’d seen someone dump a horse skeleton in a Starbucks parking lot, he’d probably have—

Well, alright, if he was being honest he’d have pulled out a chair and sat down to see what happened next, but he felt like most normal people would have made themselves scarce.

“Alright, Useless Thing, up with you, old girl,” he called out, holding out his hand and casting a reanimation spell as the majority of his ectoplasm was siphoned away.

The skeleton shuddered, creating a new round of hair-raising noises, then slowly began to stand as the ectoplasm filling her formed gelatinous muscle and sinew. As her ghost awoke and her eyes flared to life with pale, spectral green light, Hunter lunged forward and grabbed her by the face just as she turned to look at him.

“Hey, sweetie, whoah, hold on,” he said, trying to hold her steady as she attempted to toss her head in excitement. “Let me disarm you first, alright?”

In one swift movement he reached up, grabbed her blade-like horn, and pulled it off with a soft ‘pop.’

While having an undead unicorn for a pet was, without a doubt, the most death metal thing that had ever happened to him, she’d nearly impaled him the first time they met, and since then he was tragically forced to de-horn her every time she was summoned.

Storing the horn back in the artifact, he patted her soft semi-translucent face as she bumped and nuzzled at him in a way that would have been fatal if he hadn’t, and said, “Look at you, so excited, are you happy to be out? You are, aren’t you, Useless Thing… which reminds me, I gotta pick a new name for you before Euphy hears me call you that or I’ll get an earful. What do you think? Would you like a better name?”

As he patted her bouncy black neck, which was as soft and smooth as velvet, he regarded her seriously for a moment.

As elegant as she looked, with her tall, sleek stature, long wavy mane, and a serpentine tail that ended in a lion-like tuft of fur, he nevertheless felt like she reminded him more than anything else of a big old pile of licorice.

“Say—you look like a racer to me, how about a racehorse name? Something stupidly long like, ‘Guess How Many Jellybeans are in This Jar,’ so if you’re winning the announcer has to seriously say your name over and over, and if you lose the gamblers feel extra silly wasting money on you.”

The horse made a few terrifying, not-at-all horselike noises, and lipped at his cheek with her ectoplasmic mouth, which Hunter took for consent. After grabbing hold of her face long enough to blow in her nose a few times because he knew it made her happy even though he was pretty sure she no longer had any kind of sense of smell, he continued, “Okay, but we’ll go with Jellybean for short, it’s easier.”

He used what remained of his ectoplasm to summon a tentacle and pull himself up onto her back, only to pause when he heard the distant screech of what sounded like a firework, followed by a cracking ‘BOOM!’

It looked like someone had sent up an emergency signal in the distance. However, since the cloud of colorful smoke seemed pretty far off, and the ward alarms weren’t ringing, he decided to ignore it.

Taking a hold of the mare’s seaweed-like mane, he clicked his tongue at her and they set off for the bank, scaring the hell out of unsuspecting pedestrians the entire way.

Once there, he tied up Jellybean outside, thinking that surely nobody would randomly mess with such a terrifying creature, only to find himself proven wrong the moment he later exited the bank.

“Hey, you! What the hell do you think you’re doing!?” he demanded, stomping up to the weirdo in silver and white robes that was petting his horse. “You wanna lose a hand or something, you fucking dummkopf!?¹stupid head”

What kind of lunatic approached someone else’s animal without permission? Especially something as strong and dangerously neurotic as a horse! Was this bastard looking to commit insurance fraud or something?

On the bright side, Jellybean herself didn’t seem that upset, and was standing there spectrally whickering as though being doted on by a stranger didn’t bother her. 

The offender in question turned to face him, and from beneath their silver-veiled hat came a familiar voice that softly said,

“Hello, President. I like your horse.”

“Wait, Mor—?”

“And please don’t call me by name, I’m dressed like this for a reason.”

Relaxing a little, Hunter replied, “Is the reason haunting people? No offense, but you look like a corpse bride.”

“… I’m not haunting anyone, I’m in uniform.” Moros swept aside his veil slightly to reveal that his face was also hidden behind a white mask, which was plain except for three silver eyes that had been painted on it in a way that, to Hunter, felt unnecessarily creepy.

“My bad. Clearly, the only thing you’d haunt is a kabuki theatre.”

“I don’t really like theatre… can I haunt somewhere else?”

“Sure, let down your hair and you might be able to pull off a lady in white—how do you feel about deserted castles or bodies of water?”

“Those sound much better, thank you,” Moros replied, letting out a small sigh of what sounded like genuine relief. “May I ask what your horse’s name is?”

Hunter assumed Moros had approached Jellybean because they’d met before.

His mistake.

“Did you really just spot a random skeletal horse and decide to pet her?”

“Yes… She seemed friendly enough when I approached, so why not?”

“What? Come on, don’t just walk up to strange animals, it’s dangerous. Look at the size of her fangs, what if she got spooked and bit you?” Hunter admonished wearily, having had this exact same conversation with Euphy in their past life countless times.

“… Alright.”

“Is that ‘alright, I understand and genuinely won’t do it again,’ or is that ‘alright, I’ll do what I want regardless, I just want you to stop scolding me?’”

“… Alright. What’s her name?”

Hunter rubbed his face, decided to give up, and said, “Ianthe named her ‘Useless Thing,’ but I thought that sounded too mean, so I’m renaming her ‘Guess How Many Jellybeans are in This Jar.’”

“I like it… it sounds poetic. Also, what’s a ‘jelleebean?’”

“It’s a type of bean-shaped candy.”

Moros, giving the horse a thoughtful once-over, murmured, “So the answer would be… quite a lot of them, then?”

“Uh, yes?”

“I see… how profound.”

… Was it???

“Anyway, I’m glad I found you… I need your help with something,” Moros continued, giving Jellybean a scratch behind her ectoplasmic ears.

“You do? Wait—is meeting you now a coincidence, or did you track me here?”

“I tracked you by your ear cuff. Why, is that… not allowed?”

“I’d prefer it if you just asked for my location in the future, if you don’t mind.”

“Then I apologize... I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Silently questioning the sincerity of this apology, Hunter asked, “Okay. What do you need me for?”

“There’s been a demonic massacre, a few dozen people are dead.”

Moros said this so matter-of-factly, and with so little emotion, that Hunter struggled for a moment before deciding that he probably meant it literally.

“… I’m not a suspect, am I?”

“No.”

“You just want me to come take a look?”

“Yes. You’ll be there as a consultant for the Golden Shield… I think you‘ve already discussed such a thing with my supervisor, yes? It will be… at whatever standard rate you negotiated.”

Recalling the deal he’d worked out with Chiron and Calliope earlier that week, Hunter shrugged and said, “Alright, I’m in. How are we getting there?”

Much to Moros’ obvious disappointment, it would have been too eye-catching to ride Jellybean to an active crime scene, so Hunter stowed her away and they rented a carriage.

Hunter was even loaned a cleric uniform of his own, which he slipped on over his normal clothing. As their ride snaked its way up a hill into a high-end residential district, Hunter plucked at his borrowed stole, which was decorated with a silver spear motif flanked by phases of the moon.

“Hey, what’s up with this outfit? I thought you and Iphis were part of the Golden Shield, but this is, uh… clearly not that.”

Having taken off his mask, Moros fanned himself with it as he lounged bonelessly in his seat. Despite his sleepy expression, he appeared exceptionally healthy today, his pale skin and eyes flushed with rosy vitality.

“We try not to wear those uniforms when we can avoid it, people tend to get… unnecessarily skittish when they see us. It’s easier to let them think we’re from a different division.”

“Really? Other divisions don’t mind you doing that?”

“Oh, they do,” Moros replied, then gently smiled in a way that implied an unsaid, ‘But what are they going to do about it?’

He continued, “Anyway, there's always a chance we may run into undercover agents of the Order… considering where Iphis and I work, the less they’re able to identify us, the better, which reminds me…”

Moros, noticing Hunter struggling to tie back his hair, beckoned him over and began to do it for him.

“Please refer to any cleric wearing a mask by their code name—if you do not know it, refer to them by rank, and ask Iphis, Chiron, or myself later.”

Hunter, who’d never really experienced anyone arranging his hair for him like this, found it surprisingly comfortable. He’d been expecting to get tugged on and pushed around, but Moros’ hands were gentle and efficient, and soon all of his distinctive red hair was tucked away beneath a silver and white hood.

“You guys have code names? What are they? Do I get one?”

“Myself and Iphis are Crane and Rook, and… well, Chiron is technically ‘Kingfisher,’ but we all just call him ‘Boss.’ For now you’ll have to do with ‘Consultant.”

“You all really into birds or something?”

“No, but the Archcleric of the Golden Shield is, and she… says naming us after birds helps motivate her to keep us alive.”

“Wow. Sounds like a great leader.”

“Mhm… here, this is also for you,” Moros said, offering him a mask identical to his own.

Hunter examined it carefully, turning it over in his hands and thinking to himself that this was the first time he’d ever dressed like a Scooby Doo villain.

Maybe after they finished with the crime scene he’d go haunt Aegis’ theatre a bit just for funsies.

“Don’t lose it, these masks are very valuable, and… they offer a great deal of protection,” Moros continued. Tapping it briefly, he revealed that the three silver eyes could be changed to gold and back. “Register your mana and it’s yours, just be warned that if it breaks, you’ll… need to ask Chiron to replace it.”

“Ohhh, neat,” Hunter said, happily infusing it with his mana. “Do I get any other spy gadgets?”

“I can provide you with a… requisition form later, if you’d like to request some,” Moros said, putting on his own mask.

“Sure, sure, sounds good—hey, don’t you usually wear glasses?”

“Yes, but they mostly help my nystagmus… I don’t need them to see,” Moros explained in a slightly muffled voice. “Also… I’m going to need you and Iphis to make up.”

“Sorry, what?”

“It’s very important.”

“Heh… so he’s back, is he?”

“Yes… are you angry with him?”

“Of course I'm pissed, why wouldn’t I be?” Hunter grumbled.

He’d have much preferred a furious confrontation to the silent treatment, because then he and Iphis could have just beaten one another up until they got tired and moved on with their lives.

Instead he’d been stuck in an awkward, stressful limbo, where he had no idea how serious the problem actually was and couldn’t do anything to try and solve it.

“Are you willing to see him?”

“What, today? No, why would I be? The sun’s shining, there’s a nice breeze, I had a good lunch… No way I'm gonna ruin that by arguing with a grown man who insists on acting like a toddler.”

“… Oh.”

“Why are you asking? He’s not waiting for us at the scene, is he?”

“No, he’s not,” Moros said, and then knocked twice on the roof of their cab to let the driver know to stop.

Exiting the carriage, Hunter saw that the big plume of colorful smoke he’d seen earlier now looked to be only a few streets away, and finally figured out what that had been about.

As their driver departed, he also noticed a larger carriage loitering nearby, painted in a way that indicated it was owned by a local branch of the Temple. Moros led him over to it, knocked on the door, and then opened it as he said, “However, I’d really like you two to resolve things anyway, so… I’m putting up a barrier, and I’m not letting either of you go until you’ve talked it out.”

“What?” Hunter asked, only to find that Moros had already picked him up and casually tossed him into the carriage like he weighed nothing. “Hey! I never agreed too—”

The door slammed shut, cutting off his complaint.