Octophobia
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Spire's Spite - Arc 3 - Chapter 8
🕑 Added 2025-02-02 02:00:02 +0000 UTCThere was a fussy storm conjured in Colette's store, one comprised of her quick clever hands and endlessly-eager chattering. Her two assistants were just as bad, they brandished measuring tapes, test fabrics, clothing and pins, following in their master's wake like they were leaves caught upon the whirling wind.
Within an hour the team were all measured and their preferences noted. George, Fritz and Cal, all desired shirts, while Bert requested undergarments befitting a king as he already had his Imbued vest and pants. Lauren outlined her desire for battle robes. Colette told her she was no expert making battlewear, but boasted she would do the necessary research and practise before sewing the finest battle robes in Rain City.
Lauren nodded along, seemingly taking the woman at her word and listening when Colette informed her of the true value of their sirensilk. That bit of honesty disposed her well to the tailor, and soon they were chatting amiably about the various styles her battle robe could take.
While each waited for their own turn they browsed the store and found things they needed or liked, such as socks, cloaks and scarfs. Fritz restrained himself, content in adding only a pair of socks to his commission.
When it came time to talk about the gold they owed Colette for their to-be-made finery, the tailor hesitated.
"Normally I'd charge in silver. However, due to the care needed and the exquisite nature of the materials, I can't ask for anything less than one gold for each item made. And three for the battle robes," she explained reluctantly as if she didn't want to offend. "If the store's prospects were doing better I could feasibly reduce the costs, but like everyone else I have rent, and assistants, to pay. And I want to make sure these clothes will be as perfect as possible."
None objected to the price, Fritz knew it was slightly beyond what most commissions would cost, but he trusted the clothier to sew them some truly special pieces. Even Lauren, the most cunning of the team when it came to coin, didn't haggle.
They paid, said their goodbyes and left.
From there they split up, either to return home or run their errands. Bert joined Fritz on his tasks, as was natural.
"What's the plan?" Bert asked.
"Servant, tutor, research," Fritz said.
Bert nodded, "Where to first?"
"Let's talk to the butler, Harold. He should know the business of servants," Fritz said.
"Feels odd," Bert said, as the crowd parted before the two.
"What does?"
"Not being spat on or glared at as we walk through the streets," Bert said.
"A great benefit to looking respectable," Fritz said.
"Sure," Bert said.
The pair made their way to the row of rented houses, and Fritz knocked upon the first house's door.
Harold greeted them with all the proper deference he was due as a lord. Fritz waved his bows off amiably and began his quick interrogation as to where he should go to acquire some trusty servants.
He was informed that for the small fee of a sliver per week, they would be provided with weekly laundry and cleaning. He also recommended visiting a servant's registry in the Upper Ring for more personal or live-in help. Fritz thanked the man and paid him a gold triad to add his household to the services for three months.
With that, he marched towards the particular servant's registry office Harold had recommended and provided directions to.
"Are we getting a maid or a manservant?" Bert asked.
"Does it matter?" Fritz replied.
Bert shrugged. "It doesn't to me, but I think Lauren would prefer a maid."
"She would," Fritz said blandly. "Though I'm not sure if that's a great idea. Knowing her."
Bert chuckled. "As long as we keep the rum away from her I think it'll be fine."
They approached the office, and noted the small brass sign that read: "Mrs Bridgestone's Registry for Sure Servants of Uncontroversial and Competent Character."
"This must be it," Fritz said, then entered the small office.
He was greeted by, ring of an overhead bell and the matronly Mrs Bridgestone, and when they asked for a maid she looked at them askance. She proclaimed that she recommended help of high character, not anything untoward. And if they wanted something like that they were better off browsing the bluestone district.
Fritz flashed his signet ring and reiterated they wanted someone to keep their Climber house tidy while they resided there. When those words didn't seem to reassure her, he mentioned Harold had sent them there and suddenly negotiations went far smoother.
"Why didn't you say so!" She cried, exasperated, then when she remembered she was dealing with nobility she added. "My apologies, milord."
From there they decided, seeing as they had a few rooms to spare to hire a live-in maid.
"Any particular preferences?" Mrs Bridgestone asked as she filled out a piece of paper.
"Pretty," Bert said and Fritz elbowed him.
"Of course, that can be arranged," the woman said without missing a beat.
"I would simply prefer them to be diligent and dutiful," Fritz said. "And not one for talk, we already have too many with that disposition."
Bert looked at Fritz with incredulity, as if he couldn't believe the hypocrisy he was hearing.
"I think we can find just the woman for you," Mrs Bridgestone said professionally. "I'll send the applicants to your premises in three days. Does the morning suit you?"
"It does," Fritz said, making a mental note of the date.
He paid some silver for the woman's service, and she bowed as he stood and left.
Back in the street, Fritz and Bert set off for the next quest.
"Where are we going?" Bert asked.
"Orphanage, if anyone knows where he can get a decent tutor then it's the headmaster there," Fritz explained.
"Oh, can I meet your siblings?" Bert asked.
"Maybe later, we have things to do," Fritz said. "I'll have to invite them to our place once we're settled in. We can have a dinner party or something."
"Fair enough," Bert said. "Does your brother look like a little version of you?"
"Not at all, he looks more like my maternal grandfather," Fritz said. "Amathea looks more like me."
"Huh," Bert said. "A more womanly Fritz. I can't imagine it. I'm sure it'll be sight."
Fritz ignored the comment, though a part of him wanted to hide Amathea away from Bert.
When they arrived, Frank greeted them at the door and led them to the Headmaster without much hassle.
The visit was brief, but Fritz was able to attain the addresses of a few active tutors of various kinds, from magic to martial as well as skilled sages. The headmaster did warn him, however, that they might not be taking on any new students or may not have the appropriate expertise to teach his whole team as tutors and trainers tended to specialise.
"What do I do if none of these fine folk take us on?" Fritz asked.
Hesitantly, Harvest wrote out one last name.
"Then try this one. I don't know where they are at the moment, but they tend to take up rooms in whatever inn that takes their fancy that night," he said. "Usually in the Upper Ring, though sometimes they go down to the bluestone district. They're an old friend so be polite. And don't take their insults and criticism too harshly. They are known for being... standoffish, rude and exacting. Or more commonly known as a right arsehole."
Fritz blinked at the surprisingly coarse language and that made the Headmaster smirk.
"Though your search may not have to come to that," he added. "And they're not likely to take you on either. Their standards are high. Too high for most Climbers."
Fritz smirked. "Well, I'm not most Climbers."
Harvest looked like he wanted to say something else, but he thought better of it and held his tongue.
"What is it?" Fritz asked.
"Nothing," Harvest sighed.
Fritz thought it obviously wasn't nothing, but he didn't want to quarrel with the man nor did he want to dally much longer.
He said his grateful farewells and left. Outside the Headmaster's office, Frank was laughing at some joke Bert had cracked. Fritz frowned, then smoothed his face and motioned to his grinning friend to follow.
"Got what you needed?"Bert asked.
"Yes, though it seems the pickings are slim," Fritz replied.
"They would be, apart from scholars, only retired Climbers tend to become tutors," Frank provided. "And there aren't much of them."
"Why?" Bert asked.
"Because Climbers die. All the time," Frank said with a surprising amount of bitterness and some deep hurt plain in his eyes. He rubbed absently at his left shoulder.
For the first time, Fritz noticed that the man's left arm was always held stiffly. He came to the quick conclusion it was likely due to the lingering damage of some old wound that even the Spires couldn't heal completely.
"Others, our most promising Climbers, leave for distant, better, shores and Spires," Frank said, almost wistfully.
"So the tutors are the dregs that don't have the strength or skill to leave?" Bert asked.
"Not all of them," Frank said. "Those that retire or stay in Rain City have their reasons, as do we all. It could be the trappings of family or comfort. It could just be they're sick of seeing their teammates die."
"Or an injury?" Fritz asked.
"Or an injury," Frank agreed, once again rubbing his shoulder.
"What about the scholars?" Bert asked.
"What about them?" Frank asked.
"You said they become tutors too," Bert said.
"I did, but I wouldn't personally trust my training to someone who hasn't Climbed higher than me," Frank said. "And you shouldn't either, too much theory not enough experience. But their knowledge can be useful, if not exactly applicable."
"Thanks for the advice, Frank," Fritz said earnestly.
"I'm just glad you're listening for once," Frank said, his customary scowl back in place.
"Yeah, thanks for the sage wisdom old-timer," Bert said, grinning.
The guard returned the smile in a blatant show of favouritism. The two had only just met and Bert had already charmed the grouchy man. How did he do it?
"Get moving you two. Oh, and Francis, your brother's being a pain, come visit him in a couple of days. And bring a practice sword," Frank said.
Fritz nodded, not meeting the man's eyes. "I will try to make the time."
He remembered his last meeting with Elliot and guilt gripped him. He shook off its clutches quickly, he knew he was trying to do his best for the both of them, for all three of them really.
"Good," Frank said, seemingly pleased.
Soon they were at the orphanage's gates and striding out into the street, leaving the guardsman behind with a wave.
Fritz opened his umbrella and Bert crowded under it.
"Lunch?" Bert asked.
"Lunch," Fritz agreed. "Then onto this list of tutors."
"How many do we have to meet?" Bert asked.
"There are seven addresses," Fritz said.
"That'll take most of the day," Bert complained.
"Maybe if they were spread out all over the city, but it shouldn't be too bad, they're all here in the Upper Ring," Fritz assuaged.
"Fine, let's get some shark steaks," Bert suggested.
"How about grilled duck skewers?" Fritz countered.
"How about both!" Bert said.
Fritz laughed and agreed.
---
Once they had eaten their fill of street food they began traversing the Upper ring, searching for the listed tutors.
"Hmm," Bert hummed.
"Hmm," Bert hummed again when Fritz didn't respond.
"What?" Fritz exhaled.
"Something about lunch isn't sitting right," Bert said, rubbing at his stomach.
"It tasted fine to me, far better than our usual fare," Fritz said.
"Not the taste, but how it sits in your gut," Bert explained. "It's light. It's missing something. Something heavy."
"Like it's... lacking in substance?" Fritz asked, noticing the same himself now that his attention was brought to it.
"That's right," Bert agreed. "Wonder why."
"It's because we've been dining on exclusively on the mana-dense monster meat, I suspect," Fritz theorised.
"That must be it," Bert said, nodding.
"It does leave something to be desired, doesn't it?" Fritz said. "We'll have to procure some."
With that goal in mind, they quickly checked the butchers and grocers they passed, inquiring at the stalls and stores for more of the mana-dense produce. They soon discovered that most of the monster meat was reserved for nobility and the wealthy, and that the rare foodstuffs that were offered up to the well-to-do commoners were sold quickly and at a remarkable markup.
They left the Thoroughfare Market empty-handed, grousing to each other about 'those greedy nobles'.
Fritz not included, of course.
After asking for directions, the pair set off south to the first address on Fritz's list. It was to the north east, this portion of the Upper Ring had several large halls and a few training grounds carpeted with the springy cover of clover. Climbers ran laps, they also wrestled and sparred in the rain or under awnings held aloft by tall poles. Their tutors and trainers watched them, yelling praise, calling out corrections and punishing poor performance.
From the halls, similar sounds of exertion could be heard and glimpsed through windows and tall doors. Fritz and Bert watched two men sparring in one of the fields for some moments. One was a mage, wearing battle robes and slinging balls of water as the other, armed with a training club and clad in a rainsteel breastplate, tried to close in on him.
Eventually, the armoured man misstepped and was struck in the chest with a Water Bolt that sent him tumbling to the ground. He didn't let the blow stop him and he rolled to his feet, attempting again to approach.
"That looks fun," Bert said.
"The blasting or the dodging?" Fritz asked.
"Both," Bert declared.
"I'm somewhat surprised that they'd show off their powers like this," Fritz mused. "Though I suppose that they aren't using anything particularly rare or revealing."
"Yeah, Water Bolt has got to be common as they come," Bert agreed. "Nothing as fearsome as our Abilities!"
Fritz nodded, agreeing with the sentiment even though that fact would likely come back to bite them. All of his team had those unusual Awards and an odd assortment of Abilities and Traits. While they trained, Fritz and Bert would have to hide the extent of their levels too, lest they give too much away.
Fritz sighed and almost turned around and left, he teetered on the edge of giving up the whole idea. All the deception would be a real hassle. Still, he knew that he, and his team, needed to become more powerful, had to refine their skills to a far greater degree to even consider Climbing the Rain Spire. Especially if they wanted to Golden Climb it, just as he wanted to, no, needed to, to gain the strength to do as he pleased and finally be free to make his own choices.
Straightening his back, Fritz strode forward, towards an office whose plaque was emblazoned with the first name and address on his list.
---
"What did they say?" Bert asked.
Fritz shook his head an exasperated scowl writ plain on his face.
"Wasn't that the last one?" He asked.
"The last one that we have an address for," Fritz replied.
"Damn it! Not even one of them wanted to train us!?" Bert cried in supreme annoyance. "Bastards. We've been walking around for hours."
Fritz grimaced. He felt similarly pissed off at the wasted time. Not the politeness of the refusal, nor the delectability of the tea and biscuits the previous tutor had provided, could cool the burning, bitter coal of his anger. Each and every one of the trainers and tutors had found some reason not to take them on, be it their claims of being too busy, too expensive or far too prestigious for his team.
Some weren't so arrogant or offensive, though they tended to be the scholars. And when he explained some of their powers in vague terms, they told him that such a team would be outside of their respective expertises. One simply wanted to study his team and their Abilities rather than truly teach them anything, so Fritz denied that man's offer forcefully, and was likely very rude in his vehemence.
The whole ordeal was infuriating. He wanted to tear up the list and throw its pieces into the gutter, but he stopped himself. He hissed out an aggravated breath and tucked the paper away. Finding the last person on the list would be an exercise in frustration, seeking them across all inns and taverns of the Upper Ring truly did not appeal to him. And neither of them were really in the mood for a long search followed by what was likely to be a quick and cold rejection.
"We'll talk to the last one tomorrow. For now, let's try some bookstores and ask around for some books about Advanced Attributes and other useful things," Fritz said. "If they have any."
"From walking around to reading... great," Bert grumbled.
"Or you can go ask if they need another wrestling partner," Fritz said, waving at one of the training grounds.
Bert looked over longingly at two Climbers in the drizzling distance. They were clinched together, pushing, pulling and twisting their bodies, trying to throw each other to the splotchy, springy clover.
He sighed.
"No, I should read more about bonded beasts. I wouldn't want to fail, Dale. Alas," he bemoaned.
Fritz rolled his eyes, and they trudged back to the Thoroughfare Markets, tutorless and thwarted.
In the long lane of scribe supplies and bookbinders, fondly thought of as Scholars Lane, they looked for books, scrolls and perhaps Techniques. There was little hope for the latter, as such a thing would be immediately noticed and would be unlikely to be sold normally unless it was one of limited or mundane use.
Something like a Technique on farming or domestic labour might be able to be found, though those were also bought up quickly. Which lord wouldn't want more effective servants and serfs?
It was in a small and almost empty store that Fritz, who was preoccupied scanning the water-proofed covers of a selection of Spire tales, that he heard a cough.
"Can I help you, young man?" An older, neatly dressed and cleanly styled man asked.
"Perhaps. Do you have anything concerning Magical and Advanced Attributes?" Fritz asked.
"Only a very basic volume," the man admitted.
It was to be expected, all the places they'd visited so far had been the same, there was very little in the way of Climbing knowledge to be found. Fritz stifled his sigh, but the man seemed to notice his disappointment, that, and his signet ring when he ran his hand through his hair.
"Milord may have better luck searching in the king's archive for such arcane subjects," the man said quickly.
"Ah, if only I had access to such a vaunted store of knowledge," Fritz bemoaned.
"Do you not, milord? I was of the belief that all the illustrious nobility had the right to use the king's archive," the man said obsequiously, obviously trying not to contradict his betters.
"Is that so?" Fritz asked, a glimmer of hope sparking in his chest.
The man looked at him quizzically.
"Milord, are you not aware of the noble privileges you hold?" He hedged.
"Obviously, not the whole extent of them," Fritz said wryly.
"I claim to be no expert on such things, but if you present yourself to the archive they may elucidate milord," he said.
"Hmm," Fritz hummed, wondering what other noble privileges he'd be able to abuse.
The man waited worriedly, again expecting the frivolous fury some of the nobles were known for.
"Thank you. I'll do that," Fritz said, setting the man at ease. "I'll also purchase that volume you mentioned, I have to start my personal library with something. Might as well be something broad and basic."
"Yes, milord," the man said, jumping to the task.
Fritz paid two gold for the thin tome, hiding a grimace at the price. He should have asked about the cost first, but he supposed it would be useful to have, even if it were just for reference. He perused it for some minutes, it seemed to be an encyclopedia of Advanced and Magical Attributes, each with two to three paragraphs dedicated to them that described some of their known effects, associated Abilities and potential synergies.
Curiously he looked for the entry about Dusksong, only to find that there was no mention of the Attribute. The rest of his Advanced Attributes were there in the index, Awareness, Control, Grace. There were also the rare Magical Attributes like Nightwell, Lightwell, and Arcane Potentia.
It was odd, he knew he had never heard of Dusksong before, but his education was lacking. Could it be truly so rare, just as he had hoped?
He frowned, tempering his pride. This was a basic overview, it wouldn't have all the truly rare or hidden powers within its stiff pages.
"Is something the matter with the book?" The man asked, anxious again.
"No. All is well," Fritz replied, tearing his eyes away from the book. "Thank you, again."
"It is no problem, milord. If there is anything else do not hesitate to ask," he stated with a bow.
Fritz had nothing else to ask, so he turned, walked away and found Bert studying a haphazard diagram of a monster, some sort of great lizard with with six heads labelled as a lesser hydra.
"Bert, let's go," Fritz declared, slapping a hand on his bored friend's back.
"Where?" He asked.
"To be elucidated," Fritz espoused.
"What!? In the middle of the day?" Bert said incredulously. "I still have my pants on."
Fritz frowned and Bert laughed.
"To the Palace Ring, and the King's archive."
Comments
Octophobia
13. Or twelve plus the Tolling month as they might say. Honestly good question that I hadn't really considered that much. I should probably write a bit about Tolling month stuff. Like the increase in traffic Spire's have from new climbers and such.
yohan gu
So, a month is 3 weeks long? And are weeks 9 days long? How long is a year?
Darcyspride
Tftc! I wish there were more chapters to read πππ© i love this story
