Octophobia
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Spire's Spite - Arc 3 - Chapter 18
🕑 Added 2025-03-09 02:00:04 +0000 UTCFritz made his way to the alley mouth where Craig still lurked. The rain was heavy and the drizzlers he had escaped had moved away, so he didn't bother too much with stealth. He thought his performance had been good, having not alerted the storm guard to his presence or drawn any attention his way, however, Craig did not look pleased.
The dark-haired man spun a dark, stone dagger in one hand, frowning. It was a sign of deep annoyance, the prickly halo of dark motes around the man's head said as much.
"Reckless and rushed," he spat. "Rash beyond any reason to be."
Fritz had heard all kinds of criticism and more from Adam earlier, so the words barely even registered to him as aspersions.
"I thought you said you wanted a drink and something more by the end of the night," Fritz said. "I was merely being conscious of your time."
Craig scowled. "And if you got caught? You'd waste more of my time that way."
"I wasn't. They didn't see a thing," Fritz boasted.
"Only 'cause you were lucky," Craig argued. "What if that hattery were warded? Or any of those idiot drizzlers had Awareness or some Senses?"
"I could tell through my own Senses that the door was safe. As for the drizzlers, would you have preferred I stalked them for the entire night? Watching for the perfect opportunity?"
"No, I would not have 'preferred' it. But it would have been the smart thing for you to do," Craig stated.
"Then why hurry me along?" Fritz asked, hiding most of his exasperation.
"What? I did nothing of the sort,"the man protested.
"You said you didn't want to watch me all night," Fritz countered.
"That's right, I don't. But I would have," Craig said.
"I feel I'm missing something here," Fritz said.
"Missing a lot," Craig agreed.
"Then why say something like that if not to rush me?"
"I said what I said because it was the truth. I don't want to watch you. But the Nightshark says, look over the new boy, so I do. You will learn this soon, but I may as well tell you now, that wants and feelings have no bearing on the jobs you are given. Get it done as quietly as you can, no matter how much you might enjoy otherwise. The rewards are better that way too," Craig said his eyes gleaming as he remembered past pleasures.
"Enjoy? Rewards?" Fritz asked.
"The harem, boy. Once you get a taste of it you'll understand," he said chuckling. "But not all jobs are of the boring sort, like watching you. Sometimes the Nightshark needs to make a point, needs me to sort some idiots out and that's where some true fun can be had. Those fools can think they're so tough, they can think they can run these streets and alleys. A few of them even foolishly think they can save the gutters. Then me and my knives teach them the truth, painfully if I can help it. Those 'good' few learn the lesson the hardest. And their terror is the best to behold."
Fritz's stomach turned at the man's thin ramblings, he was disgusted by the cruelty and the glee he so openly displayed. Something about his face must have given him away because the man's smirk curled into a scowl.
"Got a problem with me or somethin'?" He asked. "You lookin' to be one of them 'good' ones?"
"No, of course not," Fritz lied. "I was just wondering about the harem. I was brought through it before. When will I get to go again?" He asked as if eager.
The man nodded, pleased with Fritz's answer and subsequent question.
"Once you're done with your jobs you will get an invitation," Craig said surely.
"Wonderful," Fritz said. "Do I get to pick and choose my...reward?"
"Ah, one of 'em already caught your eye, huh?" Craig chuckled. "It's not so simple as pickin' and choosin'. They have to agree to entertain you. But with a face like yours, I doubt you'd have many refusals."
Fritz nodded. "And what jobs do I still need to complete?"
"Let's get out of the street first. Talk somewhere more quiet like," Craig said, turning and striding down into the alley.
Fritz followed.
When they were halfway down the man turned again to face him.
"Here's fine," he said. "Your next task is to sneak into an estate and destroy a certain item."
"Estate? Where? In the Palace Ring?" Fritz asked.
"Up here in the Upper Ring," the man elaborated.
"Who's and where?" Fritz asked, knowing that inquiring as to the why would simply be met with no answer save a 'you don't need to know, just do it'.
"Baron Coldwind. His estate is on the western side of the city and you're to break a bust of his father," the man explained.
"When should it be done? Now?"
"No, not 'now'," he mocked. "Do it only when you're sure you can get it done without getting caught."
"Anything else?"
"There are some debts that need to be collected, and some warnings that need to be given," Craig said. "Seems you're the talkative sort, so that should be right up your alley. Unfortunately, there ain't no one that we need you to kill right now."
"I see," Fritz said, dismayed that his precious time would be wasted on running these petty criminal errands. Though he was glad he wasn't being sent to murder either.
"Don't worry, you'll get your chance to cut some throats," the man said, mistaking the cause for Fritz's trepidation. "There's always someone that'll need killin'. Here's hoping it's that upstart Sid. Murdered two of my crew he did. And I can't wait for him to get his."
Fritz frowned for only a moment but Craig caught in and smirked cruelly.
"Oh, right, you're his mate, aren't you? Or is it somethin' more than that?" Craig made an obscene gesture with his hands and he laughed.
Fritz's frown deepened further.
"I'm almost jealous. That's a pretty lad alright," the man continued. "Maybe too pretty. But that won't last if he keeps pissing off the Nightshark. I wonder what his screams will sound like. But I suppose you'd know, huh?"
Fritz held his tongue and the man shook his head. "You're no fun."
"I'm not here to have fun, I'm here to serve the Nightshark," Fritz said despite his clenched jaw.
"Fine. Here's a list of the debtors and what they owe. Get it done in a week."
Fritz nodded taking the sheaf of damp, crumpled paper from Craig's hand.
"Anything else?" Fritz asked, wanting to be away from the man as soon as possible.
"I'm meant to teach you a few tricks of the trade," Craig said. "But that can wait for another night. After you've cased the baron's estate."
Fritz nodded.
"Alright then. You passed the first test, barely. So now for the next one," Craig said. "Since I didn't get to see you scamper away we'll have to go down to the districts and do a bit of roof running."
"Why?"
"'Cause I got to see if you got the balance and speed to escape if things go wrong," Craig said.
Fritz sighed.
"Hey, don't go sighing on me. How do you think I feel? I could have had a hand filled with a bottle and my arms around two stout lasses, rather than having to test you," Craig groused. He had drawn his dagger and tapped it's flat on Fritz's chest, punctuating his point.
Craig was trying to stoke his fear, goading him to respond. Fritz did his best to ignore the sharp edge so close to his skin, even as it prickled. Craig looked down to the black blade, chuckled and said, "Whoops, bad habit," before sheathing it.
The man was pretending it was an accident rather than his intentional malevolence, so Fritz played along, even if he knew better.
"No harm," Fritz said smiling blandly. "If you had made a mistake it would have gone right through my body anyway. That dagger poses little peril to me."
Those words caused the man's face to twitch minutely and his hand to spasm slightly. For a split second, there was a stinging line of pain right over the left side of Fritz's neck and he leapt back.
Craig didn't move a muscle, but his eyes twinkled maliciously. Somehow he had tricked Fritz's Danger Sense. It must be that the man had experience with the Passive, or some similar variant, and knew how it worked. The realisation sent a shiver down Fritz's spine.
"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you," Craig said dangerously. "You know very little of murder and it shows. I could kill you in a heartbeat. Only the Nightshark's order keeps you safe. If I had my way you'd be dead. I argued, you know, that your Door Sense wasn't worth the man that came with it."
"I flattered you feel so strongly," Fritz said unflappably. In a casual gesture, he lay his hand upon Quicksilver's pommel and he was glad the rain hid the bead of sweat rolling down his face.
"Don't be," Craig replied, mimicking his movement.
They stared at each other for another three moments.
"Let's get going, shall we?" Fritz asked. "Those stout lasses must be missing you terribly and I'd hate to hold you here."
"Right," Craig said. "This way. I've got just the route for you."
The man turned his back and led the way into the dark.
---
Fritz panted as he ran along roofs and rafters. Slick tiles, wooden beams and stone walls flew under his feet as he attempted to keep pace with the shadowy figure ahead. Occasionally his foot would slip, but his Grace would save him from a potentially deadly fall. Though that wasn't the greatest boon his Powers allowed him, that honour was granted to Trap Sense. It was miraculous, allowing him to notice loose tiles or rotten wood before he tread upon the treacherous footholds and found himself tripping and tumbling to a cobblestone doom.
More and more, Craig tried to widen the gap between them, and Fritz struggled to keep up on his already overworked limbs. Eventually, through weariness rather than inattentiveness, his feet slid from under him and he plummeted from a rooftop into an overflowing gutter. Thankfully he was able to climb out onto the bumpy street and wasn't swept away, but his clothes were soaked with the filthy water, and he stank.
Grumbling, Fritz searched the roofs around him, looking for the dark shape of Craig. He felt a tap on his shoulder and lurched around to see the smirking face of the Browncoat.
"Not much of a genius are you?" He chuckled.
"I never said I was," Fritz grumbled through wheezing breaths. He felt his head spin and his legs tremble.
"You failed the test," Craig said with pleasure. The man basked in some cruel delight, seemingly satisfying some one-sided grudge.
"What does that mean?" Fritz asked.
"It means you do it again tomorrow night. Then again the night after. Then again," Craig gloated. "We're gonna work on that pathetic stamina of yours."
"How long will this go on?"
"Until I'm satisfied or The Nightshark deems you a waste."
Fritz nodded, he was too tired to speak.
"Right. Be there tomorrow at midnight," Craig said, pointing to a tall building with dagger in hand.
Then the man was cloaked in shadow and faded away into the dark. Fritz idly wondered if his own Trait appeared the same to others and began to trudge home. The whole night had been frustrating and had felt like a waste of his increasingly impugned time. He assuaged his annoyance with the pragmatic notions that told him this was still the best outcome for some one in his position.
From the corner of his eye, Fritz spotted a rat, it had been following him for some blocks. Its tiny limbs were a flurry of movement as it tried to keep up with his long strides. He wanted to draw Quicksilver and skewer the beast, but stopped himself. Antagonising The Nightshark wouldn't go well for him, or those he cared about. He kept walking.
The drizzlers sneered at him as he passed through the sunken Ring's gates. They might have given him trouble if not for his signet ring, though one did suggest he may have stolen it. Fritz's glare had caused the guard to step back, maybe something of his nobility or deeply-clutched fury had shined through, putting a weight of fear on the man.
When Fritz arrived home he stripped himself in the hall and threw his ruined clothes in the laundry basket with his befouled rain towel. He didn't bother with a shower and collapsed into bed. He felt that his eyes had barely closed for a moment before there was a ring of a bell and a banging on his door.
Fritz groaned and he struggled to leave his now stained sheets. In a bleary haze, he wrapped himself in a towel, grabbed some spare clothes and made his way to the showers. The stairway was abuzz with action as the team prepared themselves for the likely gruelling day ahead. At the base of the stairs, he passed by a wide-eyed maid and tried to smile. She blushed furiously and turned away, busying herself with some other immediately important task.
"What happened to you?" Bert asked as he bounded down the stairs.
"Craig," Fritz said in way of explanation.
"Oh, rough was it?" Bert asked.
"Very," Fritz yawned. "I don't think I've ever felt so tired, save maybe after those slippery sharks. I hope that Sir Needle's training is more gentle today, though it's not likely, is it?"
"Not likely at all," Bert commiserated patting his brother on the back.
"Fritz, you look terrible," Lauren noted, as she left the bathroom in clean robes, then strode up the stairs.
"Yeah, really bad," Rosie said.
George nodded, agreeing silently as he also made his way to the showers.
"Thank you," Fritz said.
Soon he was showered and was truly clean. He joined the team in the dining room, they ate in quiet anticipation, not all of it excitement. When they had finished their breakfast of redroast sausages, rations and a side of fried fish, they gathered in the lounge and waited.
The sounds of dawn came in full and the door rattled when Sir Needle came knocking.
Cassandra was there to greet him and led him to the lounge.
The mountain of a man had a satchel hanging on one hip and looked each of them over, deciding which of them he'd pick to tutor first.
It came as little surprise when he said, "Lord Hightide, I'll start with you."
"Yes, sir," Fritz said standing gingerly, then yawning.
"Too early for you, milord? Should I have the maid fetch you a palanquin?" Adam asked.
"Do we have one? That would be marvellous," Fritz said, only mostly putting on airs. He'd taken another round of Stamina remedies and they were already lifting his fatigue.
Adam glared.
"Sorry, Sir," Fritz said. "To the yard?"
"No, I want to ask some questions so I can fine-tune your regimen, this room should suffice," Adam said. "I want the rest of you to do three laps, then wait in the dining room. I'll get to each of you in turn."
The team nodded and set out.
Adam sat across from Fritz, opening his satchel and pulling forth a quill and some ink and paper. He arrayed and glanced down at three particular pages. They were already written on, lined with copious neat notes.
"What's all that for?" Fritz wondered aloud. Though he could read his own name at the top of one of the pieces of paper.
"Just some observations I've made about you and your team, and some thoughts on what you can do to improve. Thing's like ideal Techniques, Treasures or training" Adam said. "Now, I'm going to ask you some questions. You are free to not answer if the secret is too precious, but it might impede the usefulness of my advice if I don't have the full picture of your Powers."
"You already seem to have written a lot about me," Fritz hedged.
The man nodded seriously.
"These are merely guesses, but my guesses are generally good," he replied.
Fritz nodded.
With that, Adam began to lay out all he'd seen and deduced of Fritz's Abilities and passives. The man's conclusions came unerringly near the truth. So much so that Fritz was unnerved when the man listed Gloom Strike and Danger Sense as certainties.
"You also had some kind of curse that made me tired, which is unusual. You have a stealth Trait that hides you from one's mind rather than sight. Maybe Subtle Presence, which is rare. And the Ability to conjure an orb of sticky obscuring shadow that is surprisingly resistant to light. That would have to be your Path Ability. As for your other Powers, you didn't feel the need to use them or perhaps you don't have the right Magical Attribute for them," Adam claimed.
Fritz sat there, somewhat stunned at the accuracy.
"Got it mostly right?"
"Mostly," Fritz agreed.
"Did you want to reveal anything further or should we get straight on to Advanced Attributes?"
Fritz squirmed internally, trying to decide the best course of action. There were some things he didn't mind revealing, like Stone Pit and perhaps Trap Sense, but his Traits all seemingly carried secrets. He quickly concluded that he'd only conceal Cloak of Dusk and his Door Sense, the former because he somehow felt it should remain secret; and the latter for both their safeties. Who knew what the Guides Guild would do if they found out?
Just how far could he trust this man? He wondered. Oddly, even through the man's belittling and incessant insults, Fritz could tell that Adam did hold some honour and that he wouldn't sell out his students secrets. There was also the fact that he was a Climber of the Sunken Spire, a fellow starving gutter rat if Fritz's guesses were correct.
Despite his early misgivings, and the fraught friendship Adam had with his father, Fritz had come to trust the man. Somewhat. So he decided to take a small risk and told the tutor of his Trap Sense, Stone Pit, Umbral Phase and the Trait he would need the most advice on: Hand of Eldritch Flame.
Adam sucked his teeth with a small hiss when he heard the last bit. "How on Epsa did you manage to earn an offering like that?"
"It was mostly an accident," Fritz admitted, then spun the tale of how he had brought the eerie fire into his Sanctum.
"You're mad! Why would you do that!?" Adam demanded, anger obvious in his tone. "Didn't Tomas warn you against sculpting your Sanctum!? Didn't he tell you to wait until you're ready!? Didn't he tell you to delay until you're a Journeyman, when your Sanctum is more malleable?"
"What?' Fritz asked completely taken aback.
"What do you mean: what?" The man said dangerously. "Answer my questions. Didn't your father warn you not to sculpt your Sanctum?"
"My father did nothing of the sort," Fritz said.
"That fool!" Adman seethed, leaping out of his chair, just to pace and rant. "I can't believe he'd do such a thing to you. It's reckless! Cruel! It could have crippled or killed you if you made a mistake. Which you did and then somehow survived with barely a burn!? If he wasn't already dead I'd kill him myself."
"Wait! You misunderstand!" Fritz said angrily. "My father taught me nothing of sculpting at all. I don't even know what that means."
The words stopped the man in his steps, and he turned to meet Fritz's eyes. He stood there for nine whole seconds trying to read some sort of deception.
"So you somehow stumbled into sculpting your Sanctum? That's insanity," Adam stated.
"It was an accident," Fritz said. "I didn't know what I was doing."
Adam slumped, sighed then sat heavily back into his seat. "I'm sorry. I lost my temper there. You blindsided me." He sighed again. "Well, at least you're not a fool, just ignorant. That can be cured."
Fritz nodded, waiting for the explanation he knew was coming.
"Sculpting your Sanctum is dangerous. Not only from the near certainty of burning or breaking it, which would either kill you, cripple you or leave you feeble-minded. But there are also the long-reaching after-effects. You're Sanctum is not just a reflection of you, but a part of your soul realised and made real by the Spires' magic. When you sculpt it, you sculpt yourself. That Eldritch Flame is now a part of you. It's evil and insane, and its bearers often leave a path of ruin in their wake."
"Can it be undone?" Fritz asked, feeling nauseated.
"Perhaps. It's your soul. Adding and moving when sculpting is painful. Removal is agony. Even then, you have solidified its hold by selecting it as a Trait. At this point it's permanent. Though there is hope, maybe it will be consumed by another Trait or maybe an Evolution will change its nature. Who can know the future or the myriad strange paths that can be walked?"
Fritz nodded taking in the bleak news as best he could a stone settling in his stomach. The fire within roiled and mocked, taking joy in his dismay.
Adam sighed again. "Well, there's no use complaining now. At least it's wildly powerful, a final gamble if you're completely unable to hurt your foe."
"With a bit of Control I can maybe shape it away from myself and feed it to Quicksilver," Fritz said.
"You have Control?" Adam asked surprised. "And what this about quicksilver, is that your sword?"
"Yes," Fritz said. Then he recounted how Quicksilver had swallowed Eldritch flame before and had spat it out on command against a horde of hounds.
Adam nodded and he smiled as Fritz expounded on his tale. The man was slapping his knee by the end, laughing in merriment as the final stand with the Great Hound was told.
"Well done! What a beast indeed," he exclaimed. "Did you get its seed?"
"We did," Fritz admitted, enjoying the praise.
"Do you still have it?"
Fritz shook his head.
"Ah, I suppose She would have taken it when you swam out," Adam said.
Fritz let him believe that, not wanting to tell him how he had used it, unrefined, lest the man's fury re-ignite. He would tell him that story later, much later.
"Your theory about the sword may have some merit, but don't test it yet. Not until we have a sure way to douse the Eldritch Flame. We might need some Radiant Water or Smothering Winds. I'll see if I can procure some."
Fritz nodded, the advice seemed prudent.
"Now, onto Advanced Attributes. You have Control, and you have Grace and Awareness, and Nightwell from what I could see."
"That's right," Fritz agreed.
"It's too bad you don't have Reflex or Speed, they work very well with high Perception and Awareness. More so than Grace and Control at least." Adam said. "Still, there are benefits to what you have."
"And they are?" Fritz asked excitedly.
"We'll get to that. What do your base Attributes look like?"
Fritz told him.
"Very much a Scout," Adam observed. "A tad lop-sided, but that's what your team is there to compensate for. You should consider increasing all your Base Attributes to fifteen. It's a good threshold, half again as strong, quick and capable as you would be. From there you can specialise further. And if you're looking for the High Human Strain you'll need sixty points in each Base Attribute anyway, so starting early is no great pains."
"High Human? Is that what you are?" Fritz asked.
"Of course. What, did you think I was Giant-kin?"
"Maybe," Fritz smirked. "Though I was more betting on Troll-kin."
"Cheeky," the man said, smiling back, then his face went stricken.
"What's wrong?" Fritz asked.
"Nothing. You just. You just looked an awful lot like your father for a moment there," Adam said. "He had that same sword's edge smile. Cutting and kindly in equal capacity."
Fritz didn't know what to say, so he said nothing, letting the man pull himself out of his bittersweet reminiscence.
Adam coughed and moved back to the topic of Attributes. "Your Awareness, what kind is it?"
"Kind?" Fritz asked perplexed.
"Maybe I should have asked this earlier. But just how much of your education have you missed?" Adam asked.
"I was around nine years old when I was exiled from the orphanage," Fritz said.
"Exiled? As a foundling?" He asked, both baffled and angered.
Fritz explained the circumstances vaguely and when he had ended the man was seething again.
"How dare they," Adam whispered, a furious light entering his eyes. "How could they do that to you?"
"There was no one there to help, with our House as thoroughly ruined as it was. We were alone, save each other," Fritz stated.
It was like the wind was taken out of the man's sails, the storm of his rage easing to little more than a maudlin breeze. His hand twitched as if it wanted to reach for a bottle.
"Right, of course. Tell me, has your whole life so far been a series of tragedies suitable only for a Tenebrian play?"
"I wouldn't know. I don't tend to visit the theatre often. And I don't know what or where Tenebria is," Fritz said.
"It's a city that borders the deadlands, where the Spire of Death looms, tall and terrible," Adam answered absently. "Though that's neither here nor there. We need to keep on task. Let's talk about Advanced Attributes and what you can do with them."
"I'm listening."
"Good, I have a lot to teach."
Comments
Malcolm Haynes
Every good progression fantasy needs a training arc! TFTC!
Octophobia
Training Arc go!
Octophobia
Thanks! :)
Heraclitus
There's something just *chef's kiss* about Fritz progressing. Whether it's unwanted and bitter like his rogue "training" with Craig, or the halting, unearthing of context with Adam.
Heraclitus
"...the prickly halo if (*of*) dark motes..."
Venno
Tftc
