Octophobia
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Spire's Spite - Arc 3 - Chapter 57
🕑 Added 2025-07-24 03:00:06 +0000 UTCFritz strode through midday rain, a smile on his face. The streets were more crowded than he'd liked, so he took a boat to the gates of the Upper Ring. The boy who rowed him shared in his joy when he paid thrice the normal rate, blessing Fritz as he stepped back onto solid stone and walked to the guarded gate.
He was through in moments, slipping through the shadows of the arch and crowd of commoners. Though Fritz was not in much of a hurry, he didn't dally in the markets; he also didn't stop for lunch, knowing there was a mana-dense meal waiting for him.
When he arrived home and walked through the door, it was to worried voices and the rhythmic thumping of someone pacing in the dining room.
"He should be home by now. It's not like him to miss training," Bert said.
"We'll go look for him if he doesn't turn up," Rosie said. "I don't think he's hurt or drowned or anything."
"If he has come to harm, I'll find whoever did it. Burn them and this whole city down if I have to," Lauren stated.
"Well said," Bert agreed.
"That's a bit much, isn't it?" Cal said, peeking out from the kitchen.
"For our Captain and more importantly, our friend? No, it's not too much," Lauren asserted.
"Has he replied to the message stone?" George asked.
"No," Bert grumbled. His voice was further away now; it was he who was pacing.
Fritz slipped a hand into his pocket and grazed his thumb over the stone within, noting the glyph had changed. He had obliviously missed the item grow hot and tremble as he hadn't been wearing his trousers at the time.
There was nothing for it but to just announce his presence.
Fritz strode in and addressed his team. "Fear not, for I am safe and sound."
The gathered team turned to him with mixed expressions of relief and irritation.
"Where were you?" Bert asked.
"Sid is back," Fritz said in way of explanation.
Bert nodded. "Could have sent so on the stone."
"It slipped my mind," Fritz admitted. "I'm sorry to have you all worry. Though I'm not sure that it was warranted. It's still day."
"You're never late for training. And you don't miss sword practice. It was odd," George said.
"All this worry over a woman," Lauren said, shaking her head. "I hope it was worth scaring us so."
'It was," Fritz stated. Though he did feel a little guilty.
"If you say it like that, I believe it," Bert said, grinning.
"Lunch is ready," Cal called.
Fritz eagerly took his place at the head of the table and soon all were waiting to be served.
Lunch was a boisterous affair, and Jess joined them coming down from her room.
Some days ago, after much deliberation, she had agreed to be their Quartermaster. The addition to their household had delighted many of the team, including Fritz himself, but had also brought other, small troubles. Taking on new members tended to do so.
Jess decided to sit by Fritz, giving Lauren a cold shoulder. This wasn't an uncommon occurrence; those two were either frustratingly inseparable, cordial and chattering, or in some insipid feud, fiery or frigidly opposed on some minor disagreement, be it the colour of the new curtains or the way to calculate and lay out the team's ledger.
Fritz didn't know the full extent of their relationship and didn't presume to ask.
Although they were obviously fast friends, they, at times, fought like cats. Not with claws and spitting, but with hissed accusations, haughty rebuffing and unkind words. It was alarming at first, however, now it had simply become annoying.
Luckily, Fritz didn't have to chastise the two as their Captain. Though they clashed, they were never truly cruel to each other and they usually made up quickly, each apologising for their rash behaviours.
Lauren would readily admit that her Essence of Fire and Intensity led her to overreaction, and Jess would similarly blame the stress of her upcoming scribe exam and the sudden change in residence, which had her on edge. These things were true, but it was also the case that the two were proud, passionate souls; he could see it in the motes that sped around them. They both had a stubborn streak, too, which could only exacerbate the escalation of their disagreements.
When the pair weren't at odds, they enjoyed each other's company, either out in the markets, visiting the many tea shops in the Upper Ring, or simply discussing books and gossiping in the lounge.
"What's got you upset this time, teacher?" Bert ventured, unwisely.
"Nothing," Jess said.
"Apparently, there's been some miscalculations in the ledger," Lauren said icily. "And it's a huge problem that, while in fear for my life in a Spire, I forgot to carry a one here or there."
"A mistake anyone could make," George said.
"You wouldn't have to carry the ones if it were arrayed using a Thalmaeus table," Jess said as stony as a statue.
Cal looked dejectedly between the bickering beauties, unsure who to side with. The answer was to let them sort it out themselves, or that's what Fritz had come to believe. Though he did think Jess was acting a little unreasonably.
"Right, I should have just conjured the right coloured inks and an abacus," Lauren said.
"Your lack of preparedness doesn't excuse bad accounting," Jess insisted.
"The raider did have inks," Rosie said, mouth half-full, which earned her a stern glare from both women.
"Half of those were poisons in disguise," Lauren said.
Rosie shrugged. "Use the other half then."
Bert laughed.
The absurdity of the argument seemed to dawn on the two ladies, and they glanced to each other and smiled helplessly. Their eyes spoke apologies that their lips didn't mouth and after they had finished lunch, they retired to the lounge, each proposing a tea shop to visit in the afternoon.
Cal sighed like a mournful ghost. He hadn't been invited.
"Cheer up," Bert said. "You never know what's around the corner or down the next gutter."
"Yeah! You'll find a lady-love. I can feel it," Rosie agreed. "And you have to trust me on this, 'cause I got Awareness."
"Thanks, Rosie," Cal said dispiritedly, staring down at his plate. He completely missed Cassandra watching him, hoping that he'd notice her.
Fritz cleared his throat. "George, could you do me the honour of a spar or two?"
"Yes," he replied, pleased at the prospect.
With that, the two excused themselves from the table and stood.
"I'll join too," Rosie said. "Teach me that Python's Fangs some more, I almost got it."
Fritz nodded, though wasn't too keen on being thrown around and rolling in the mud.
"I might as well join too," Bert added. "Need to practice my tumbling and my balance."
Wanting to change into more durable clothes, Fritz left for his room and, upon entering, discovered that a letter had been left on his bedside table. It was still wet and bore the black fanged seal of the Nightshark. He made his way over and opened it.
The instructions within were brief and called on him to meet Nic in the Bluestone district that very night. Fritz sighed. He thought he might be able to rest a night in his own room, but it seemed like life had something more painful in store. As it always did.
He set down the letter and began to change out of his dark, wet clothes. He had barely unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, when there was banging on the front door. Something about the hammering sound rattled him, stoking an old fear. He peered out his window and his stomach lurched. Below, there were two Scale Guard flanking a man he couldn't see due to the angle.
Fritz swiftly snuck out from his room and made his way down the stairs quietly.
The front door had been opened and Bert's affronted voice challenged the visitors.
"What is this about!? Why are you beating the door so loudly? There's a perfectly good knocker."
"Is there a Lord Francis Hightide residing here?" The man inquired loudly, ignoring Bert's own questions.
"Maybe. What do you want with him?" The rude reply came.
Fritz made it to the edge of the hallway just in time to see the man sneer. He was around thirty, blonde-haired and blue-eyed and wore a fine uniform of blue, grey and silver, emblazoned with the royal crest. That heraldry, a blue Spire enclosed in a grey triangle with three silver raindrops, distinguished him as one of the King's personal messengers.
"The Lord Hightide has been summoned," he intoned proudly.
"Summoned? By who?" Bert said, playing dumb.
The man blinked, and the two Scale Guard behind him hid smirks under their stern countenances.
"By His Majesty the King Alphonse Rain," the messenger announced.
"Oh," Bert said. "Is it urgent?"
"He is to appear at the palace. Now. On pain of death," the man replied seriously.
Bert sized the man up and put a hand in his pocket. The message stone on Fritz's person trembled and became hot.
Fritz didn't need the warning, but put his thumb to the glyph anyway.
Danger. King. Run.
He smiled, but couldn't heed the advice, the Scale Guard looked ready to barge in and brutalise any who stood in the way of their search. He couldn't leave his team to face that. There was also the impression that while there was peril, there was also potential. A potential for what he couldn't say, he just knew what his Awareness provided.
Fritz stepped out from the dim light of the hall, shedding his Cloak of Dusk and strode to the entrance.
The man bowed, short and proper. "Lord Francis Hightide?" He presumed.
"Correct, good fellow," Fritz allowed, tilting his head in a show of politeness.
The messenger straightened and met his eye.
"The King has summoned you to stand in his Court," he said.
"What is this in relation to?"
"That will be made clear at Court."
"Very well," Fritz said, holding back a sigh and stilling an apprehensive shiver that threatened to slide down his spine. "I shall go at once. You may leave now that your message is delivered."
"We are to escort you," the man provided, smiling almost apologetically.
Fritz nodded, knowing what that meant. He was currently in the custody of these men, a prisoner without the manacles.
He reached for his umbrella and made to leave with his 'escort' when the man raised a hand, forestalling him.
The messenger glanced over Fritz quickly, taking in his clothing and appearance while twisting his face in displeasure. It wasn't intended to be scornful, rather, it was a sort of grim exasperation.
"You will want to attire yourself more nobly," he advised. "You're appearing before the King."
"Won't that impede the swiftness of my arrival?" Fritz asked.
"It would be best that you garb yourself in a manner befitting your rank rather than clad as a pauper," the man said smoothly.
Fritz nodded, realising that the messenger couldn't afford to drag him to the place dressed as he was. It would reflect poorly upon them both.
"Thank you for your understanding," Fritz said. "I'll be down as quick as may be."
The messenger bowed again. "We will wait just outside your residence."
The men stepped back, sheltered under the clear dome of a Rainshield.
Fritz closed the door and signed for Bert to follow.
"Do you want me to join you?" Bert whispered.
"Yes, you wouldn't mind playing butler, would you?" Fritz asked.
"Course not. Always wanted to see the palace anyway," Bert said.
As they made their way to the stairs, he passed by the door to the lounge and saw Jess and Lauren staring out at them curiously while drinking some tea that Cassandra had prepared for them.
"What was all that noise?" Lauren asked.
"The King wants Fritz," Bert said.
Lauren went still, motionless, while Jess sprayed out a sip of tea in her haste to speak. "What!? Is that a jest!?"
Fritz shook his head. "I have no time to explain and don't know the half of why. Though I suspect it has something to do with my appeal, as they mentioned Court."
"Didn't you only send that off a week ago? That's too quick," Jess said, the worry writ plain on her pretty face.
Fritz shrugged. "We'll just have to see. If you'll excuse me, I must attire myself properly. And I can't keep the King waiting."
"Yes, go, swiftly," Jess agreed.
Fritz nodded, striding away up the stairs and to his room, where he searched for the finest items of clothing he possessed. He gathered up his coat, sirensilk shirt and a pair of dark trousers that weren't exactly of exquisite make but would simply have to do.
He undressed, placing the small metal disc Sylvia had given him in his wardrobe-armoury. He dropped it right next to the Rat cleaver's leather, bowl-like cap and made a mental note to purchase some Know-notes to discover what kind of Imbuements they held.
There was a knock at his door, he opened it while only in his undergarments. Cassandra looked away and blushed as she signed. "The bath is ready."
"Bath?" He signed back, unashamed of his near-nude state.
"You've been out all night." She reminded him.
"Right." He agreed, realising he did need a quick wash. He didn't smell terribly, but he was riper than he considered dignified.
"I would prefer a quick cold shower than a soak in a cold bath, though," he said.
"The bath is hot." Cassandra signed.
"So swiftly?" Fritz asked.
"Lauren,"she responded.
Fritz nodded. Sometimes it was useful to have a fire mage, even if she was prone to irritation. He made his way down, clothes clutched in his arms.
"Francis!?" Jess cried as he passed her on the stairs. Her pupils widened, and a hand went to her mouth, as she blushed even deeper than the maid following him. "Wha-what are you doing!?
"You'll have to excuse me, I haven't the time for modesty," Fritz said, not breaking his stride.
Now that he wasn't the sickly-thin youth he used to be, he had little shame in his bared chest. In fact, he was proud of his body. As he should be, it had taken a lot of hard, painful training to achieve his current physique.
Soon, he was in the bathroom and availed himself of the steaming water in the copper tub. Someone, likely Lauren, had come to his aid and left out scented soap, silky shampoos, slippery oils and luxurious lotions. He thanked her internally and made full use of some of the items laid out. He hadn't the time to relax or rub in every strange substance onto his skin or into his hair, but he felt much cleaner, fresher and softer when he rose from the water.
He slipped on his chosen clothes, then arrayed himself with his Treasures, many of which were the closest thing to finery he owned. He hoped they would lend him the air of a noble dedicated to Climbing rather than one that was simply impoverished and lacked any jewellery.
Impoverished relative to those that were bound to be in the vaulted halls of the palace, at least.
Self-mending socks were followed by his magical dark boots, then he made his way out of the bathroom. He hadn't strode more than a few steps towards the entrance when he was caught by the arm by Lauren.
"Come with me," she ordered sweetly.
"I must be away," Fritz protested.
"Not with your hair all like that, you're not," she said both gently and sternly.
Fritz allowed her to pull him up to her room, where the other two ladies were waiting, as well as George, for some reason. She sat him in a chair in front of her vanity cabinet and face to face with his reflection.
Brushes and combs were produced and Jess and Cassandra descended upon his hair. While they did so, George rubbed his chin, giving out suggestions and small pieces of advice on what would look good and proper.
They combed with way and that, trying to find a style that suited him. To their exasperation, that seemed to be every style currently fashionable and they found it hard to choose.
"Too handsome by half," Lauren groused.
Fritz smirked. "My apologies."
"We'll give him something simple, then," Jess said.
"Something that will dull the arrogance of that sharp, smug smile," Lauren added.
"How about something rugged?" Fritz asked.
"Oh, Francis, no," Jess said, brushing his dark hair to the side, tucking away any stray strands. When it was neat, almost immaculately so, she paused and a sad frown creased her brows.
He didn't have to ask what had caused the stillness.
This style made him look eerily similar to how he remembered his father. Almost a twin if not for his eyes, the light but noticeable scarring, and the slightly softer, finer features that had to be a gift from his mother.
"No," Fritz said.
"No?" George asked. "You look like a proper gentleman. It's a bit stiff, but that can only be a boon in noble circles."
"No," Fritz repeated.
"I agree," Jess broke in. "It's too much like the previous Lord Hightide. That would not go down well."
In a sombre quiet, they groomed him some more, cutting his hair a little shorter, then made sure his clothes and Treasures sat right. He stood before the floor-length mirror and took himself in.
A stern, handsome face, with keen, inquisitive, cold eyes. He wondered what had turned them so icy. His dark hair was combed neatly to the side. His finery was an odd assortment and his shirt and coat fit him perfectly. He was tall, lean and strong. A pillar of black and subtle shades of purple.
He would've liked to be humble and say he barely recognised himself, but in truth, he always knew what lay under the mud and grime. A gleaming gem, dirtied, drowned and now resurfaced. Though his facet features shone, he felt that his depths were stained and scratched, as clouded as a blocked gutter.
Fritz didn't sigh; he didn't lament. He straightened his back and stiffened his spine, then nodded once at his reflection and made his way out.
"Thank you," he said to his team as he left.
"Good luck," Jess called. The words were echoed by Lauren and George. Cassandra signed a prayer.
Fritz smiled, their well-wishes and earnest support lightened his heavy stride.
Bert joined him at the bottom of the stairs. Somehow, the man had scrounged up a proper butler's attire. It fit him suspiciously well, as if it were tailored for him. His golden hair had been tied back and his face had been recently shaved. He cut quite the fine figure, even if he still looked like a fighting man rather than a true servant.
"When did you get that outfit?" Fritz asked.
"A while ago," Bert said.
"Why did you get that outfit?" Fritz amended.
Bert winked, then grinned. "I'm not sure you want to know."
Fritz frowned.
"If you must know, it was a gift," Bert said. "From the 'boss'. It came with a letter."
"A letter?"
"Yeah, let's not talk about it now," Bert said. "Got places to be, don't we?"
"We do," Fritz said. "A palace, in fact."
He opened the front door to find the messenger and the two Scale Guard standing there, their backs as straight as arrows.
The king's man glanced over Fritz again, and nodded in mild acceptance.
"Better," he said. "This way, the carriage awaits."
"Carriage?" Fritz asked.
"Yes, what did you think? That his majesty would summon you only to have you walk or swim?" The messenger chuckled. "You'd have to be truly out of favour for that."
Fritz smiled. That small piece of reassurance eased his nerve.
The messenger led the way and Fritz followed. They led him to a royal carriage, the door was opened and held for him, and he was let inside with Bert. Within the luxurious cabin, Fritz was surprised to find another person already sitting on the plush blue seats.
The neatly attired and styled young man gave him a strained, fearful smile.
"Lord Hightide," Mr. Worth greeted with a seated bow. The movement pushed his leather satchel off his lap, causing it to tumble. Fritz caught it before it could roll out the door.
"Mr. Worth," Fritz replied easily, handing the man the satchel which was accepted thankfully.
Fritz slipped into the seat opposite the advocate and Bert followed after him, looking the man up and down suspiciously.
"I take it you're here as my legal counsel?" Fritz asked.
"Correct, Lord," Mr. Worth replied quickly.
The carriage rocked and began to move. The man jumped in his seat.
"What has you on edge, good man?" Bert asked, affecting a more proper manner of speech.
"We've been summoned by the King," Mr Worth explained with incredulity.
"And that is unusual?" Fritz asked, think that it had been the case and wanting it confirmed.
"For such a small matter... Unfortunately, yes," Mr Worth said.
"You'll have to forgive me, I'm not familiar with the King's Laws. Could you enlighten me?"
"Of course, I am your advocate after all," he replied. "I would be remiss to not inform my client as to the proper workings of the kingdom."
"Go on then," Bert said.
"Right, well, normally such an appeal would only reach as high as the Minister of Law's desk and only in unusual circumstances. The King wouldn't be troubled with something so below His Majesty's notice. Not unless, well, he had a particular interest."
"A particular interest?" Fritz asked, his stomach tingling.
"Right, he would have to have ordered his Minister to keep an eye out for it," the advocate nodded. "I wouldn't presume to speculate on the why, though."
"Please do," Fritz allowed. He thought he already knew why, but wanted another's opinion, just in case he was being paranoid.
"Well, Lord, if you insist," the man hedged, smoothing his hair with his palm.
"I do," Fritz said.
"I suspect that matters related to House Hightide are directed to the King. Even if they are seemingly minor," he said.
Fritz nodded. That matched his own thoughts.
"It would likely be due to those events from almost a decade ago," Mr. Worth continued. "He lost his favoured son and heir and had to settle with a second son, whom he is rumoured to be dissatisfied with. There are even whispers he could set the Princess to replace that one."
"Princess?" Fritz asked, strangely intrigued by the subject though they had wandered from the point.
"Yes. Princess Alysine is not often seen. But if the marriage to the Empire Prince goes through, it's all but certain that the King would name her heir."
"She's a recluse?"
"Not per se, I hear she prefers the a book to a ballroom. Or so the rumour goes. It isn't that she's shy or unsociable either. She seemingly has a desire for ancient knowledges and the peace and quiet."
"Interesting. Though, you seem quite well versed in these things," Fritz said.
"What can I say, my father meets important people all the time in his office. The walls are thin and they talk loudly," Mr. Worth said with an abashed pride.
"So, the King is watching for documents from House Hightide?" Bert asked, diverting their conversation away from royal gossip.
"Yes, that would be my guess," Mr. Worth said, nodding soberly.
Fritz sat back in his seat and wondered what to do.
Then he shook his head.
He would do what he always did. Gutters or palace, it didn't matter. This was just another battlefield. He would bend all his wits and strength to survival.
There was nothing else.
Comments
Kaladin
"He gathered up his coat, sirensilk shirk and a pair of dark trousers that"... *Sirensilk shirt
Kaladin
My only concern is a subtle/undercurrent power play between the two over authority.
Kaladin
Here's to hoping the King sends him to the spire: punishment and reward to look for the lost... Without a guide.
Pierre-jean Samaran
Thanks for the chapter
CTrees
Thanks for the chapter, can't wait to see what comes of this.
Heraclitus
Hype.
