Octophobia
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Spire's Spite - Arc 3 - Chapter 35
🕑 Added 2025-05-08 03:00:03 +0000 UTCThe after battle Council meeting dragged on into the early hours of the morning. Fritz yawned and could barely keep his eyes open. Though it had started out enlightening, he soon got lost in the names and minutiae of what happened in the day-to-day of the Refuge.
His mind was foggy, drained as he was from his training, the late hour and the battle.
The territory had many troubles, the drainage, the leaking roofs and the rot. And that was only the beginning and didn't consider the people's hardships and the enemy gangs still perched at their figurative doorstep.
Though most of the ruffians had retreated, for now, there remained a small force of the thugs. Still belligerent and besieging, but too cowardly to cross into the Refuge's borders.
Fritz yawned again, unable to suppress his fatigue in its fullness.
"We should end here, now that you have a lay of the lands, as it were," Madam Madeline said. "There are tasks to attend and our protectors must be exhausted after such a fierce fight."
"True as the rain," Fritz said, lumbering to his feet. "I shall retire for now. I'll take Sid's room for the time being. I'll be there if you need me. Wake me if there's immediate trouble with the gangs."
There was a chorus of thanks and a scuffling of chairs as each of the Council stood and prepared to go about their day.
Fritz trudged out into the hallway, followed by Bert.
"Are you sure about staying the first watch?" Bert asked.
"I don't see why not," Fritz said. "I'm dead tired. I could barely make it home as is."
"I should stay," Bert said. "I got some rest before. And with my Stamina, I'll be in a better state to help them."
"You just want to flirt and frolic with Lady Fare," Fritz accused.
Bert grinned and didn't deny it. "You know I'm right, and you'll need to tell our tutor why we're gone. Better you than me."
Fritz sighed, he had completely forgotten his training and wondered what their likely to be irate teacher would say or do and what punitive measures he would dole out.
"I'm glad to shoulder that burden. But truly, in my condition, I won't make it," Fritz said, starting towards Sid's room.
"Catch," Bert said.
Fritz did, even in his bleary state the feeling of his Awareness and Grace didn't falter. He snatched the golden medallion and chain from the air and stared down at it.
"I forgot you had this. Is it full?" Fritz asked, pondering over the Amulet of Repose.
"One use left," Bert said. "Use it and get out of here. I'll hold down the fort."
Fritz activated the Treasure, specifically its Second Wind Ability, and felt his Stamina be restored. It felt like a warm breeze brushing over his body, then sweeping through his muscles. While it didn't wipe away all his weariness, it suffused his limbs with some new strength and his eyelids lost some of their great weight.
He sighed from the relief, then winced as one of his arms cramped and his battered, overwrought body asserted its complaints. A use of his Ring of Pain Suppression soon soothed these hurts. He nearly groaned when the aches were smoothed away.
Fritz hated wasting the gold, but he knew he would need the help to get home in any reasonable time. Unwilling as he was to stagger and stumble the whole way.
"Thanks," Fritz said, attempting to hand the Treasure back.
"Keep it for now, you'll need it," Bert said.
Fritz almost feigned protest, but knew it would be a waste, Bert knew him far too well. He tucked the amulet into a pocket and smiled. A sudden wave of gratitude joined his already raw emotions and the rush of elation that came with his aches and pains being soothed. It threatened to bring tears to his eyes. But he held them back even as he chided himself for his sudden struggle.
"Don't cry, Fritz. It's just a Treasure," Bert grinned, pulling him into a hug and patting him on the back.
"I know, I know," Fritz said. "There's just so many things happening all at once. I really wished we could have just had the time to train and prepare for our next Climb. If not for me, we could have grown stronger in peace and comfort. Yet here we are, back in the slums we only narrowly escaped."
"I'm not sure we can escape. Not while the desperate district exists the way it does," Bert stated. "And not when it still lives in our memory."
"Too philosophical, Bert. You're meant to be an idiot, remember?" Fritz said, breaking their embrace.
"Hah! True as the rain. But it's just me and you here, so it's alright," Bert said. Dale whistled from a spot on the man's back. "And Dale."
"Of course. And how did Dale fare in his first fight?" Fritz asked wiping his eye, glad to be given an escape to another subject.
"He was stuck to my back the whole time, hiding in his shell," Bert said. "The tiny coward." He added warmly.
"I'm sure he'll learn to be brave from your example," Fritz espoused.
"Damn right he will, he'll be tough. Won't you Dale?" Bert said, receiving an unsure warble from the beast. "Once you're big and strong things won't be so scary."
"How long do you think that will take?" Fritz asked.
"I don't know," Bert said proudly. "He's growing slower than other beasts might. I think it has to do with the shell, having to build and tear down the layers as he gets larger."
Fritz nodded, he knew little of animal husbandry let alone the nature of beasts. Still, he realised that he couldn't stand around talking about such things for any longer, he was already perilously pressed for time.
"Alas, I must be away," he said. "Keep the Refuge safe. I'll be back by tonight."
"Good, I'll be here," Bert said.
"Thank you, Bert."
"Get going you dramatic fool."
With a scoff and a smile, Fritz turned and made his way down the stairs. As he strode into the square he soon attracted a lot of stares and brought about a bout of whispering from the gathered crowd of poor and dispossessed. He scanned the faces and smiled once, before ducking into a shadow and donning his cloak of dusk.
Gasps rang out as he seemingly disappeared. Though he enjoyed the shock in their tones, he found it surprising that the display of such an Ability was truly that strange or intriguing. Surely it couldn't be too rare to have a power that granted a boon to stealthy maneuvers? A question for a more knowledgeable person. It was good then that he was heading toward one at this very moment.
Unfortunately, Fritz couldn't take to the roofs, not in the day, it would be far too conspicuous. That, and he was unsure how well his legs would hold up, even with the benefits of his Treasures. So he slipped through the streets, found his way to the gates and was able to sneak through with some small effort.
From there, it was a short enough walk to get home. He could hear Adam's roaring reprimands from the gate, and they only grew louder when he slipped in the front door and evaded the maid. He headed straight for the kitchen, keenly aware of his deep, gnawing hunger. There was still some food left on the dining table, and he shovelled it down with a glass of clean water and the various remedies still laid out.
Fritz was so enthusiastic and intent on the meal that he didn't notice that Cassandra had entered the room and watched on with some horror. Glancing her way, a cold strip of fired toad in his mouth, he waved and signed an apology for his impolite appearance and his lack of etiquette.
"You're hurt!" She signed.
"Ah, so I am," he agreed, after swallowing down the monster meat. "I tripped."
Cassandra frowned at the obvious lie.
"Blood!" She added pointing to a bleeding cut that ran over the outside of his wrist. A wound he had taken when one of the Browncoats hadn't gone down as easily as they should have. He had many such injuries, though most were small, mere grazes compared to some of the deadly hurts he may have received without his elusive suite of powers.
"Yes, I'm quite the mess. I'll need new clothes and a wash," Fritz said blandly. "Prepare the bath for me."
The maid looked torn between her kind concern and her duty to follow his orders, so Fritz made it easier for her.
"Now," he commanded with the tone of Dusksong.
She acted immediately, leaving him to his food. He ate for some minutes before finding his way to the yard. The whole team save Bert and himself were there, and they trained with great diligence. They were practising with the batons again and Fritz did not fancy having to spar with those, not after the night he just had.
As he lingered near the door Adam spotted him and strode right up to him.
"Lord Hightide, you look terrible," he observed. "What happened? Where's Bert?"
"Bert's fine, but will miss this lesson. He extends his utmost apologies," Fritz said.
"Of course he does," Adam said drily. "And what of you?"
"I am also deeply apologetic," Fritz said sombrely.
"Not about that, what has put you in this state boy?" He asked.
"I tripped," Fritz lied.
"Tripped?" Adam repeated, incredulous.
"Yes, down some stairs," Fritz elaborated.
"And then onto a dagger, an axe and a sword?" Adam asked. "Or perhaps it was your other mentor carving you up for a bit of fun? Or punishment."
Fritz wondered how much he had told his tutor of Craig or if he had merely guessed. Or perhaps the man had experienced similar when he himself was a lackey of the Nightshark. He bore the black fang, did Adam also once wear a brown coat?
This wasn't the time for such questions, as he could tell from the man's expectant, flinty stare.
"It wasn't that," Fritz said. Though that wasn't entirely true so he amended his statement and attempted to come clean to his tutor. "Well, there was a bit of that... earlier tonight. But the real trouble was a dispute in the drowned district."
"A dispute," Adam said, his eyes flashing with anger and some understanding. "Gangs and territories?"
"You have the root of it," Fritz allowed.
"Don't bother yourself with that anymore," Adam ordered. "No good comes from going back to the gutters and trying to set things right or settle grudges. The districts are the way they are for a reason. And it's not just the people. Leave it behind."
"I can't. I promised a friend," Fritz said sourly.
"A friend?" He asked sceptically.
"Yes, a friend. Are you going to repeat everything I say?!" Fritz snarled. The pain was coming back, roosting again in his wrung-out body.
Adam frowned.
"Don't bark at me boy," he warned, steel entering his gaze.
Fritz glared back and his hand crept towards his dagger.
Adam frowned further.
"What's got a hold of you?" He asked, genuinely worried.
Fritz blinked, then dropped his arm limply.
"I don't know. It's been a long, rough night," Fritz admitted. "Far too vicious and vulgar. I hurt a lot of people. And I was hurt back, though not nearly as badly if you can believe it."
Adam grimaced, then nodded, understanding his words and the understatement of the true hardship he'd been through.
Fritz could have blamed his reaction on the physical pain, could have blamed it on his weariness, and it was those things, but it was also more. He could have also blamed it on the proud offended Dusksong that sang protests next to his heart, or the roiling fury that was the Eldritch flame. But really it was that uncomfortable ache of enacting evil. The regret that he'd had to take even more lives.
Some of them deserved it. Truly, most of them did, though maybe there were some that were just doing what they were told. Surviving in the harshness of that world, just as he had to, just without the benefit of fortune or newfound riches.
Internally he reproached himself. He wasn't the same as all those thugs, if he was presented with a choice that enriched and empowered himself while harming the weak and vulnerable. He would simply not.
As much as he could afford to.
He shook an aching head and was about to speak when Cassandra called to him with a knock on the wall.
"Bath is ready for you." She signed.
Fritz nodded and signed a thank you. Cassandra curtsied and went about her other tasks.
"We'll speak later, get cleaned up and meet me in the lounge in an hour," Adam said.
Fritz rankled at being ordered about in his own home, but he was too drained to care. He gave a curt nod which was returned by Adam who then returned to the yard and berated the team for their lacklustre effort in his absence.
Soon Fritz was soaking in the hot water. It was the first time he'd had the luxury in some time, though he couldn't savour it. The soap, even if it was a bland, scentless bar, stung his cuts and quickly the bath's clear water was muddied with blood and grime. In mere minutes it felt less like he was cleaning himself than stewing in his own filth.
Grumbling and groaning, he left the large copper bathtub, pulling the plug and letting the sludge drain away. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he turned to see some medical supplies he hadn't thought to ask for yet and had been provided anyway. He applied the stinging ointments and slathered his many minor injuries in healing grease. Bandages were next, across his arms and waist, but he needed help with his chest and back.
He called on Cassandra and while she was happy to help, her hands shook and she blushed furiously at the sight of his bare chest and back. Fritz sent her to fetch one of the team, but she returned with Adam who scowled upon seeing the collection of cuts and shooed her away, closing the door on her worried face.
"You're in worse condition than I assumed," Adam said sternly.
"Ah, I finally exceeded your expectations," Fritz replied glibly.
"You're a mess. Just what kind of dispute did you have?" Adam grumbled as he helped with the bandages. "You had your Umbral Phase active didn't you?"
"I did, there were simply a lot of foes and some were Pathers with hidden Treasures," Fritz explained.
"Just how many people are you talking about?" Adam asked a note of frustration in his voice.
"Thirty-ish Levelers and a couple of Pathers," Fritz said, trying not to sound proud and finding it easy to do so. His words came out low, rough and weary.
"And it was just you and Bert against this gang? Is he alright?" Adam asked.
"Bert's fine and so is his beast," Fritz said. "In fact, I wish I had his Vitality."
"Hmph, don't we all," Adam said. "It's one of those rare Advanced Attributes that everyone could benefit from. Mage, Martial, Scout or Sage would all enjoy the fruits of faster healing and longer life."
"Longer life?" Fritz asked.
"Mhm. Those with Vitality routinely live into their hundreds," Adam espoused. "I once met a Defender who claimed to be three hundred. Though he was prone to exaggeration, as many Climbers are, so I wouldn't put too much faith in the claim."
"Three hundred," Fritz repeated.
"Seems like a lot, I know. However, there are older beings, the Elves of Thas'lo'telon spring to mind as an example. Some of that Strain are said to be thousands of years old, yet look young as you. If you believe the tales."
Fritz nodded. He did believe, it was hard not to when he had encountered beings even rarer than Elves. What was a long lived Strain compared to that?
"I digress, what are you doing taking on so many foes?" Adam asked. "You know numbers matter, even when you're powerful you can be overwhelmed or eventually exhausted."
Fritz did know that it was one of the main contentions within 'The Observations'. However, it also had tactics to turn those overwhelming numbers to a disadvantage which he had made good use of during the battle. Tactics such as causing chaos in the ranks and fighting from obscurement. His targeting those carrying lights so as to keep the cover of darkness was inspired from those pages. Though he would have figured out such a strategy himself without its help, he was sure.
"We made it out mostly fine," Fritz said.
"Mostly," Adam scoffed, tightening a bandage. "Are you likely to continue this truancy?"
"Only for a week or two," Fritz admitted.
Adam sighed and shook his head. He muttered something about the foolishness of youth, though he didn't attempt to dissuade Fritz, saying only that he would be left behind by his team if he took too long.
"Unlikely," Fritz stated. "I'm a Scout and a damn good one. Really, they will be catching up to Bert and I."
"Perhaps that's true," Adam agreed. "A week or two isn't too long in the grand scheme of things. Just a small delay. And you still have your duel with me remember."
"When is that again?" Fritz asked having lost track of the days.
"Not tomorrow, but the next day," Adam said.
"I couldn't trouble you to reconsider the day," Fritz entreated.
"You could, but I won't," Adam said.
"Why not?" Fritz asked, frustration bubbling at the man's obstinance.
"To learn what I can teach, you need to have a singular focus," Adam claimed. "You can't be gallivanting all over the city, neglecting your practice and battling the gangs in the district."
At first, anger coursed through him, again he was being denied a legacy meant for him. He glared at Adam and expected him to glare back, but found the man's eyes filled with genuine concern for his well-being. Fritz deflated, his fury fleeing, replaced with the fatigue that sat heavily in his muscles and mind.
"You're right, of course," Fritz said.
"I know that," Adam said. "Give up on the gutters. Stay here. You've earned it more than many of those up here. Including the nobility. Especially the nobility."
Fritz shook his head. "I made a promise. An oath. I will keep it. I must."
Adam sighed again, but said no more on the subject.
Soon Fritz's hurts were properly tended to and Adam left him. Disappointment and begrudging respect hovered in a halo above his shoulders as he stalked out.
Left alone, Fritz contemplated his plans, though his thoughts quickly became muddled. So instead of drawing up any grand schemes, he decided to get some sleep. He left the bathroom, surrendering it to an impatiently waiting, muddy Lauren.
With a swift bow, he left her to it and made his way to his room. He then lay on his neatly made bed and slid into his wonderfully clean sheets.
A knocking came from the front door, he had only dosed for an hour or two.
He tried to ignore it, but he heard Jess's distant voice and remembered he'd have to make introductions. Groaning, he dressed, then set off down the stairs catching Cassandra who was heading his way to inform him of their visitor.
"Did you show her to the lounge?" Fritz asked, stifling his yawn.
The maid nodded and he signed a thank you and an order for her to tell the team to meet him in the lounge. Then he trudged gracefully to greet his old friend.
He was not the first to do so, Lauren much refreshed and refined, had received Jess and was already chatting with her politely. They sat across from each other on the plush couches while they talked amiably over some hot tea. So intent were they on their small talk, they barely registered his entry.
He stood beside an armchair and listened to their gossip and subtle probing for nearly three minutes before he cleared his throat, announcing his presence.
"Lord Hightide," Lauren said, flinching for only a moment, then frowning softly.
"Francis!" Jess blurted, placing down her teacup.
He raised an eyebrow.
"My apologies, Lord Hightide," Jess said, standing and giving him a curtsy.
"When we're in close company you can call me Fritz," he replied, bowing only slightly.
"I couldn't," Jess protested.
"Nonsense, you're an old friend," Fritz said. "And I can't have you fawning over my title at all times."
"Still, It wouldn't be proper, Lord," Jess said.
"No need for the propriety. Not in front of my team," Fritz insisted.
Jess nodded, but remained standing until he waved at her to sit. It seemed that she was intent on treating him properly, though he didn't quite understand the sudden change in character as she had no trouble ignoring his title before.
With an internal sigh, he sat himself and waited as Cassandra gathered the rest of his Climbing team.
They arrived one at a time, George was first and was his cordial, quiet self. Rosie was next, and though she was rough and guarded, she did her best to be polite. Last and most amusing was Cal. The man, upon seeing Jess, was blown away by her beauty. He stammered and stumbled, and he shook her hand too hard, which caused her to wince and for him to apologise profusely, his words tumbling over each other like a jester crashing down stairs.
When they had all been introduced, Jess and her new students left for the dining room, to begin an assessment of their base competence. Fritz had warned her before that Cal and Rosie would need to be taught from the ground up, but she said a short test was a good place to start.
As Cal followed the woman, he glared back at Fritz, one that accused him of some mean minded misdeed. Fritz just signed back a "What's wrong?"
Cal shook his head and waved away the question, signing. "Later. Bastard."
When they had gone, Fritz turned to Lauren and asked, "What did you think of her?"
"A lovely, intelligent, young woman," Lauren stated warmly.
"Young woman? Should you be saying that? She's older than you," Fritz said.
"Just lovely," Lauren repeated, eyes alight with mischief and embers. "Maybe I should ask her to help me brush up on my own handwriting. I wonder if she would allow me some private lessons."
Fritz laughed at the brazen comment. "I'm not sure how successful that endeavour would be. Though I wish you good fortune."
Lauren smiled. "It was merely a thought, not a declaration of courting."
"Of course," Fritz said, smiling back. Then he yawned.
"Go, get some rest," Lauren said shooing him. "You need it. You look like an undead, shambling and all."
"I wasn't shambling," Fritz protested, yawning again.
"Of course, Lord Hightide," she drawled.
Fritz rolled his eyes, the woman was more insolent than ever. A sure sign that she considered him a close friend. A comfort even.
He rose and bowed sardonically. "Miss Nearshore."
She smiled prettily waving him away as she returned to her reading, which appeared to be the Mist Style: Mystic Arts. He was glad she was heeding their tutor's advice. Some one had to.
With that Fritz returned to his room and embraced the siren song of sleep.
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Heraclitus
Nothing says immortal, long lived race like the fae.
Venno
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