Octophobia
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Spire's Spite - Arc 3 - Chapter 38
🕑 Added 2025-05-18 03:00:05 +0000 UTCFritz and Toby listened on as Craig blathered an explanation about how one should step on different surfaces to avoid as much slippage and sound as was possible. The imparted knowledge was rudimentary to the pair, but they didn't bother to interrupt him. This tedium was a welcome relief to their usual 'training'.
Though their 'mentor' had plenty to say on the subject of sneaking, there was little they didn't know about it. Still, Fritz had paid attention when he could stomach the vile man's voice and gleaned some small pieces of advice that would actually help him.
Mostly, Craig warned him to slow down, that he tried to move too hastily instead of waiting for the right time to move. It was the same thing he said when Fritz had first been tested by the thug. He also decried Toby's different deficiencies; he claimed he was too focused on his mark and forgot his surroundings. Which was true; the man had a certain amount of tunnel vision, even when not stalking the various vagabonds they were tasked to follow.
These were only minor issues though, Fritz knew, because their 'mentor' was more irritated that he could only find such small faults than he was at their actual failures.
In the late hours of the night, Craig eventually grew as bored of teaching as Fritz and Toby were learning, and he left the two to go quench his thirsts and enjoy his other, more visceral, vices.
Once the beastly man had left, Toby soon followed, making his way home and to his love. He did have a few choice words for Fritz, mainly, he cursed him for giving Craig the bittersteel dagger.
"A complete waste on that complete degenerate," Toby had grumbled.
Fritz had merely shrugged. "If you want a dagger, go Climb a Spire. Or steal one."
"Piss off," Toby had said. "I'm going."
Fritz had waved him away, then made his way towards The Refuge's headquarters alone, though not before stopping by his stash of cleansing tonics he had hidden before meeting with Craig. Pulsing his Awareness, he made sure the coast was clear and drank down one of the small vials and the burning pain of the cut down his forearm lessened considerably.
After a sigh he ducked out of the alcove and continued his trek, taking to the roofs so as not to be seen.
It seemed the Refuge didn't sleep. The square and surrounding streets were dimly lit by the sparse light seeping from behind windows or out of open doors. Like many of the rougher districts, taverns and drinking holes were still open, gambling was still in full swing, and the working girls plied their trade.
It also appeared that the siege was not as total as Fritz had feared, or perhaps the battle last night had eased the gangs' grip. Either way, it was good to see that the night could still be lively, even in such difficult circumstances.
It wasn't nearly as raucous as some of the worst places in the Sunken Ring, but it wasn't exactly quiet either, as was proven by a brute of a man throwing a weedy fellow from what was likely a brothel.
"Hands off, means hands off!" The bouncer bellowed, before giving the man a kick for good measure.
The man scampered away, cursing as he left. When he reached the besieger's blockade, he was let through once they had collected some coppers from him and had a good laugh at his expense.
"Told ya," One Browncoat taunted. "Even if ya favourite dockside doxie ran here, they ain't worth the trouble. Find a new girl. They got a lot of rules here and they won't treat ya fair."
"Piss on you," the man slurred.
"Piss on me?! Piss on you!" The Browncoat growled, kicking the man in the backside, sending him sprawling.
The gang laughed some more as the man scrabbled to his feet, glared drunkenly, then, noticing he was outnumbered and outleveled, staggered away fearfully.
It occurred to Fritz that perhaps 'siege' wasn't quite the right term for what these gangs were doing. You couldn't count on such ruffians to do anything properly. It was more akin to a toll, a shakedown as you left and entered. So long as you could hand over a couple of coppers, the thugs wouldn't bother you too much. That was, if you weren't considered 'owned' or indebted.
It was still wrong in his eyes, and it would be broken, even if he weren't tasked with it as he was. But at least he didn't have to worry about starvation and supplies as much as he worried he would.
Fritz turned away from the besiegers and entered the headquarters. Soon, he was searching for Bert in the damp, quiet hallways, slipping past rooms with worried or sleeping occupants. There were not only families, but couples, groups of women and of children. There was also the occasional man, standing by doors and guarding the Refuge's people.
Fritz had cloaked himself in dusk and stayed out of sight. He didn't want to frighten the residents and also had no desire to explain why he was here or deal with any fawning or suspicion. Pulsing his Awareness and letting his intuition guide him, he continued looking for his blood brother. Fritz didn't have to rely on that method for long, as he could hear a familiar snoring boring its way through the leaky, creaky wood.
He found the man, lying on a bedroll he had unfurled in Sid's room, and surprisingly, he was alone.
"Bert, wake up," Fritz called out.
Bert woke in a moment, staring around with bleary eyes that cleared faster than they had any right to.
"Fritz! Took you long enough," Bert complained.
"My mentor is an arsehole," Fritz offered as explanation. "And I had to cut him a deal, so I can protect the Refuge."
"Ah, too bad," Bert commiserated with a yawn. "What did you have to give him? Gold?"
"Gave him the raider's knife," Fritz said.
Bert frowned and Fritz smirked, which caused him to raise an eyebrow.
"You did something to it?" Bert inquired.
Fritz winked.
Bert grinned.
"You sneaky prick, what did you do?" Bert asked.
"Not right now," Fritz said. "I'll tell you later."
"Alright. What's the plan?" Bert asked, getting to his feet.
"You can go home for now. I'll take over," Fritz said. "I've explained our situation to Adam, so he shouldn't be too hard on you. We can switch off each night before dawn if we don't have something important to do."
Bert nodded, stretched and cracked his back with a jarring series of snaps.
"Don't do that," Fritz said, wincing "It's horrible."
Bert gave him a rude gesture and grinned.
"Anything happen while I was away?" Fritz asked, ignoring the vulgarity.
"Nope. It's been quiet. I think we scared them. They weren't expecting a slaughter," Bert theorised.
"Looks like it, but there's also been orders from above," Fritz said, then went into a swift explanation of what Craig had told him.
"Huh, lucky us," Bert said when all was said and told.
"Maybe," Fritz said. "I'm left suspicious."
"You're always suspicious," Bert stated. "Maybe 'she' just likes us."
"You don't believe that," Fritz said.
"You're right, I don't. But I like to think it," Bert said.
Fritz smiled, then changed the subject. "You know, I'm surprised to find you sleeping alone. I was sure I'd find you with Lady Fare. Or more besides."
"Nah, it's night, they have to work," Bert said. "Even in the Refuge, you need gold to live. Ain't nothin' in life is free."
"True as the rain," Fritz agreed. "Still, doesn't the siege affect their trade?"
"It does. But they prefer the safety," Bert said. "And Sid has been helping out with her gold. And making the Madam increase their cut of what they earn."
Fritz nodded, though he wasn't too interested in the running of the Refuge. He was just here to protect the territory, not change it. Then again, as he looked around the room and grimaced at the rotting wood, he thought there were some improvements that needed to be made. He'd have to run that by the Council, among other things.
"When does the Council usually meet?" Fritz asked.
"At lunch and just before dusk," Bert said.
"What about our spymaster? Earnest, was it?"
"That's right. He said he stays in the building on the eastern side of the square. It has windows facing each direction, and it's tall enough to have a good view of the Refuge."
Fritz nodded, finding that a sensible choice.
"Anything else I should be on the lookout for, or may need my attention?" Fritz asked.
Bert shrugged. "I don't rightly know. Haven't been able to talk to many of the folk here. I think they're afraid of me."
Fritz frowned a question.
"Someone saw me fighting and spread a few rumours that I'm a blood mad beast," Bert bemoaned.
"Unfortunate," Fritz replied, commiserating.
"Not really. It's mostly true," Bert said, grinning. "It keeps the men on their toes, and the women... intrigued."
Fritz rolled his eyes.
"Hah! I can see you're green with envy, but you should be wearing your red while you're here," Bert said.
"Right, I forgot," Fritz said, pulling out the length of scarlet sirensilk.
Bert whistled in appreciation. "Now I'm the envious one. Was the other cloth too rough for your noble skin?"
"Perfectly true. My skin is both too distinguished and discerning for linen, and only the finest fabrics should adorn my form," Fritz announced arrogantly.
"Noble bastard," Bert grumbled.
"That's right, my loyal servant," Fritz said, keeping up the airs for a few moments before deflating and dropping the act.
"Did you want to share? I can cut it in half if you'd like a piece?" Fritz offered.
"Don't bother, I'm happy with velvet," Bert said, waving the end of his own scarf of red.
A floral scent, surely some sort of rose, drifted from it.
Fritz narrowed his eyes. "Whose perfume is that?" He asked.
"Lady Fare's," Bert said.
"I thought you said she had to work," Fritz said.
Bert smiled, and it wasn't his usual suggestive grin. "She had some free time beforehand. We ended up doing a bit of talking."
"Talking?" Fritz asked, lightly incredulous.
Bert nodded, then looked almost wistfully out of the window. Or would have if it wasn't closed.
"She's a kind woman, Fritz," he said in a sober tone. "Kind and beautiful. If you get the chance, you should talk to her too. She understands people. Understands suffering."
Fritz didn't know what to say to Bert's unusually serious statement, so he just nodded.
"But enough about that," Bert said, breaking out from whatever sentimental mood had gripped him and grinning. "I'm off home. I want to get a couple of hours of sleep before dawn and training, and I'd like to do it in a real bed."
"Spoken like a man too accustomed to luxury. Who's the noble now, my good friend?" Fritz jested.
"Still you, idiot," Bert said. "Out the way."
"Very well, don't let me keep you any longer. We're both busy men," Fritz said, stepping aside to let his brother pass.
Bert pulled him into a swift hug before he left. Fritz received him gratefully, patting him on the back a bit too hard.
"Oh, and don't sneak out. Make sure you're seen leaving," Fritz said. "I want them to think the Refuge is undefended."
"Yes, Captain," Bert said with an overly enthusiastic salute. And with that, he was gone, whistling some raunchy tune as he strode down the hallway.
Fritz assessed his current objectives, then decided to visit Earnest first. It would be good to know what the current situation was and what could be done to improve the readiness of their lookouts. The Safety and security of the Refuge should be his first concern.
With that in mind, he left the headquarters and found his way to the building in the east. His Trait hid him from the many small sets of spying eyes he could see in the windows, and he slipped in through the front door without being seen.
It may have been quicker and easier to just ask one of the loitering urchins where Earnest was, but Fritz wanted as few people to notice him as possible. It was best that Bert attracted all that attention while he could scheme and slink in the shadows.
Fritz found Earnest on the top floor, perched by a window. It was a predictable spot, but he could hardly blame the boy; it had the best view of the square and streets.
Earnest scanned the dimly lit darkness, but Fritz could tell he could barely see anything but dancing shadows. Still, it was an admirable attempt.
Suddenly, the boy frowned. Fritz made his way to his side, staring down at the cobblestone streets and overflowing gutters.
"What do you see?" Fritz asked.
Earnest yelped and jumped. And with a pure primal reaction, he fumbled out a knife and stabbed at Fritz, who easily slipped by the blade, then caught the thin wrist. He held it tightly, then eased his grip as the boy got a hold of himself and recognised the figure looming over him, or rather the sheen of the red scarf.
"Fritz!" He gasped, yanking his arm free.
"Shh," Fritz said softly, peering through the window.
There, sneaking down the street, taking cover behind a rain barrel, was a woman. She didn't wear a brown coat, but Fritz knew she was a foe by the way she glanced around furtively and the fact that the dark seemed to shift and coalesce around her form. It made her difficult to pick out amongst the other shadows and was definitely the effect of an Ability or Treasure.
The thug was armed with a shortsword, the metal dull and blackened, and she was sneaking toward the headquarters, slowly but surely.
Fritz wove Lethargy into the woman, which caused her to stop in her tracks and stare around for hidden enemies. Her eyes swept the windows, searching for his assailant, and caught upon one of the brothel's wood-slatted windows where the silhouette of a particularly curvy woman slipped past.
The thug stared for a moment before she shook her head and continued her infiltration.
"Should I raise the alarm? Ring the bell?" Earnest whispered.
"Bell?" Fritz asked, then spotted what he was talking about.
A bunch of bottles filled with stones and tied to a rope, ready to be pulled. The rattling that would follow would wake and alert everyone in this building and the ones nearby.
"No. Let me handle this," Fritz said stoically. "Keep an eye on my back if you can. Ring the bell if I fall."
Earnest nodded solemnly, and Fritz left, donning his cloak of dusk.
It wasn't easy to catch up to the intruder, but once he was in the street, he found she wasn't the only one making their way stealthily to the headquarters. No, there were another five thugs creeping in, all had some kind of stealth Power, whether it be quieted footsteps, shadow magics or Abilities that clouded sight, rendering them blurry or a similar colour to their surroundings.
Fritz cursed inwardly. He thought the gangs would strike again after Bert left, but he didn't expect them to be so sneaky about it. Though he should have, from the obtuse warning Craig had given him.
The squad of scoundrels seemed to be in a hurry, and some carried bottles and jugs filled with what Fritz guessed to be oil. He wondered what their plan was. Was it arson or assassination? Or both? The oil wouldn't light easily in the rain and the outer walls of stone wouldn't burn, so he knew they would have to get inside the tenement to pose any real threat.
Fritz slunk forward, following as quickly as stealth would allow. Hastily, the thugs piled into the headquarters. Fritz was only thirty feet from the front door when he heard a crack, a thud, then a gurgled curse and another thud. Once he made it to the door and peered inside, he found the man who guarded the entrance slumped against the wall and bleeding, his cudgel held loosely in his hand.
Fritz was too late to save him; there was a wound in his chest and his heart had been pierced. Blood pooled in his lap.
The dead man wasn't alone. A thug lay before him, twitching and softly groaning, the top of his skull cracked and leaking a thin fluid.
Fritz stepped over and past the bodies, and into a room off the ground-floor hallway where he heard the scuffling of boots. There he found two of the five remaining ruffians splashing the place with oil.
"Got the steel and flint?" One hissed to the other.
"What? No. I thought you had it," the other whispered back.
"I don't, so Vic must have had it," the first replied. "Go get it."
"Fine," the other said, turning and making his way out of the room.
Fritz slipped out of his way and the man didn't give him a glance. He followed and watched as the thug rifled through his fallen fellow's pockets. Taking any coin or baubles he found as well.
Although Fritz didn't want to kill the thug in cold blood, he hadn't the time to deal with him gently either. So steeling his heart and nerve, he slid behind the man, and with the swift flash of white, Mortal Edge plunged into his back.
Fritz had struck true. The blade easily punctured the villain's heart and he died with a soft groan. As the body fell, he caught it and lowered it to the floor so as it didn't make a noise.
Stealing away the flint and steel the man had clutched in his dead grasp, Fritz moved to find the other three thugs. The one he left behind could wait for now, as the bastard had no method to start a fire. Hopefully.
He heard whispers from above, and he followed the slight sounds. Fritz nearly slipped in the stairway. The steps had been drenched in slick, acrid oil. It wasn't the usual lantern oil; its strange sheen and scent indicated that it was alchemically enhanced or magically fortified. And although this was not the only set of stairs in the Headquarters, if the oil was ignited the building would quickly become a fiery deathtrap.
Again, Fritz cursed silently. The thought of all those who dwelt in the headquarters being burned alive sickened him and infuriated him. He blamed himself for a moment; if he and Bert hadn't slaughtered the attackers, perhaps they wouldn't have to go so far.
Fritz discarded the thought as quickly as it came. He wasn't to blame for their evil acts; they were. Provocations and pride aside, there was no reason to turn the Refuge into an inferno. It was madness and cruelty, and they would pay for their part in it.
He discovered these thugs doing as the others did, spilling oil. A short man sheathed his daggers and pulled out flint and steel and prepared to strike a spark. Another of the thugs saw him doing so, her eyes going wide.
"Stop! You dumb slut!" She yelled, slapping the flint from the man's hand. "Do you want to burn us too, you thick, bloody, prick?"
The man looked up, confusion clear in his one good eye.
"Thought we was meant to splash the oil, then light the fire. Just as the boss said," he growled.
"After we're out, you idiot," another hissed. "Gods, why were you picked to come with us?"
Creaks and thuds began sounding on the floorboards above.
"And now you've woken them," the woman said, hatred thick in her tone. "If the Scarlet Shade gets us, it's all your fault."
The three looked around fearfully, scanning the roof and room. One saw Fritz lurking in the doorframe. The would-be arsonist must have had some kind of enhanced Sense to notice him through his Trait, or maybe he had Awareness.
"Oh, Gods, he's here!" The dumb one cried, pointing.
As soon as the others followed his gesture, they could see him. It was a weakness of sorts; his Cloak of Dusk was effective until someone discovered him or brought attention to his presence.
"Get him!" The other ordered.
All three sprinted at him, and not liking his chances in the camped hallways, having nowhere to dodge and dance around attacks, he activated his mist necklace. Fog poured from the beads and filled the room and halls around him.
"Argh!" One yelled as they bumped into each other.
They swung wildly, catching one another with blades. Fritz didn't have to do a thing, well, until the dumb one charged right at him. He stepped out of the way, and the thug rushed past, slamming into the opposite door, shattering it and showering Fritz with a rain of splinters.
Drawing forth Quicksilver, Fritz waited for another attacker. In the mist, he had an advantage. With his high Perception, he could see further and fairer than any who neglected the Attribute.
Which seemed to be every single thug he'd come across.
"What's going on down there. What's with this mist?" A woman's voice called down from the stairway. From above him and around him, he could hear murmuring and whispers.
"An assault! Hide and hold out! I will protect you," Fritz called out, adding the ring of Dusksong to lend his order some weight.
A flash of pain slid into Fritz's ribs, and he narrowly avoided a dagger aimed at his back. Somehow the cutthroat he had left behind had found him and had taken his back without him noticing. Other stealth specialists had tricks of their own, and although the mist hid Fritz, it also benefited those who were just as quiet and careful, and had powers to hide them.
He spun and couldn't see his attacker, so he used another of his Treasures, the Ring of Echolocation. A keening note rang out, and someone in front of him grunted in pain. As the high-pitched wave of sound bounced off the walls and floor, Fritz gained a sense of the hall and its occupants. He could 'see' the shape of the nigh-invisible thug before him in his mind and struck.
Quicksilver darted and tore the man's throat in a single thrust. As the blood sprayed from the wound, a blurry shroud dropped. His opponent appeared, clutching at his neck and spitting venomous curses as he swung his dagger in desperate abandon, staggering forward before falling at Fritz's feet.
"Can you see him, Bull?!" A man still in the room yelled.
"Yeah! He's in the hallway! Hidin' in the mist, like a coward! He just did in Ghost!" the dumb thug shouted.
"Get back in here and we'll rush him together," The woman yelled.
"Sod you lot! I'm getting out of here!" Bull yelled, and with a loud splintering of wood and the sound of a thud outside, he spoke no more.
"Bull!? Bull!?" The two shouted after him.
"Bastard!" The woman yelled.
"Piss on this. I ain't gonna get killed by the Shade without hurtin' him back. I'm burning this place to the ground," the man declared.
"Don't," Fritz ordered, again wielding Dusksong as he crept close to the door and peered in to see the two thugs. Through the mist, he could just make out that both had their backs to the wall and had their weapons out.
Fritz wished he had brought his crossbow, they would be sitting ducks to a couple of well placed bolts.
Instead, he wove lethargy into the woman for a second time and pulled free a throwing knife. He threw the knife at the man, and, somehow, he deflected it with his own blade without being able to see the strike. It must have been some sort of reactive parry Passive.
"Ah! Piss off! Bloody coward!" The man cried, then he turned to his ally. "Where's the flint and steel? Don't tell me Bull still has it."
"Bull still has it," the woman said, her tone weary and wary.
"Surrender," Fritz ordered, he was only three yards away from them, Quicksilver held ready. "I'll let you live."
The nearness of his voice and the odd ringing Dusksong lent it caused them to pale and quake.
The woman loosed a bolt of shadow from her hand, right in his direction. Danger Sense lay dormant, so Fritz didn't bother to dodge. The wisping blob of black splattered harmlessly against the wall with a cold whisper. She loosed again and again, then she wobbled on trembling legs.
"I surrender," the woman said, tossing her blade away and dropping to her knees. It seemed to be the only thing she could do; her gaze was bleary and her eyes drooped. She rocked to the side, so tired she couldn't keep her balance and only catching herself at the least second.
The other arsonist heard the words and decided to try and make a break for the door. Fritz stepped, then placed the point of his blade into the man's path. For whatever reason, the man's Passive parry didn't activate, perhaps it still needed to refresh, or maybe it was because the man had run right onto the tip himself; either way, the man was spitted, Quicksilver shredding a hole in his lung.
Something in Fritz's Sanctum trembled, and he knew he was close to some truth about the Inevitable Blade. Yet, the tremors stopped abruptly and that truth evaded him.
The man gasped and choked out some red spittle. It brought Fritz back to the bloody moment. He finished the ruffian off with a cut from Mortal Edge, right across the throat. It was a mercy the man didn't deserve, but Fritz was willing to give all the same. The body fell with a thud and the woman's followed right after, though she was dozing rather than dead.
Fritz considered chasing the last man down, but thought better of it. That man, Bull, would have to wait; he had a captive and some corpses to clean way. He searched the two thugs in this room, taking any of their hidden weapons or Treasures, and pocketing their valuables, including a burnished silver ring from the infiltrator woman's finger.
Whispers and mutters still seeped down from above, and slowly the mist faded away.
"Is everything okay down there?!" A resident woman's voice called again, he recognised her this time as Mrs. Washer.
"Yes!" Fritz said. "Though there's a little blood."
