What Will Be | Book 2 | Interlude: Dorbe

Author's Note: Hey folks, as a quick aside, I think I might be cursed. There will be a bonus chapter at some point to make up for last Friday. I got sick. Again. How, you ask? By getting out the house. I went to visit the Sydney botanical gardens - would recommend, by the way - and probably caught something on the train. Smash cut to a few days of me being all kinds of out of it. Ah well, no regrets. I'll chuck a few bad photos in the discord or something and a bonus chapter down the track when I finally have a normal week. 

We are gearing up to have time skip chapters over the next couple of weeks. Bring on the teen years. This chapter was a fun one to tinker with. I like the flowing vignettes format and wanted to have a crack at it Lemme know what you think!

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Cruz

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Cruz was of the opinion that people should fuck right off. He wasn’t sure how it differed from fucking left off or fucking wrong off, but neither did he care much either way. So long as a fucking off was occuring, he would be content. Locked away in his room, he was afforded the solitude he so often craved. 

Relative solitude, at least. Insects and spiders drummed their constant percussion in hidden places, signalling their presence and defeating the point of their secrecy. Cruz did not begrudge them that. They were bugs. They were allowed to be idiots. 

On the contrary, bugs did not demand Cruz’s attention the same way people often did, forcing him to suppress a Skill he’d been subconsciously using since he was an infant, a Skill that shaped his perception of the world. For Cruz, having a conversation was akin to closing one’s eyes and muffling one’s ears.

It was a hassle. Most people simply weren't worth the effort; perhaps appropriately, those same people often took offense as if they were. 

Cruz stretched out, one leg supported by his mattress while the other partially dangled off its edge. He’d given up on taking both shoes off before settling in for what would eventually be a siesta, inspired by the fact that they were destined to be put back on as soon as he woke up. 

It was for the best that Cruz kept conversation to a minimum; he learned young that people don’t like perceptive people. They indulge in behaviours they find shameful and get annoyed when they’re noticed. Better to just not give a fuck.

Even so, foul reputations were hard to shake– a person gets called a creep one too many times and even they start to believe it. It was a good lesson to learn, though. Most people sucked. 

Cruz shifted his weight slightly, feeling the familiar presence of his lock picks in a pocket as he did so. A relic from an old life. A reminder that he’d always have a way out. 

A quick pulse of mana flowed out of Cruz and into the floor, spreading through the manor and surrounding grounds before rushing back towards him, diminished but carrying all manner of sensory information back with it. A mental map. The name wasn’t quite accurate, but it was the explanation that made his superiors understand enough to stop pestering him for details. It implied a visual understanding, but Cruz’s most powerful sense was touch, such that most people simply couldn’t comprehend or conceptualize the way Cruz most comfortably interpreted the world. 

Another pulse, and so the map updated. Engel was in his office. Wynn was cleaning the halls. The brat and his mu– the brat and Fudge were among their collection of training equipment. Mira had been posted by one of the second story windows, watching him. Now, she was making her way towards Eva’s room where the youngest Slayer in Squad Nine was meditating. 

Cruz rolled his eyes without opening them. Evidently his Lieutenant had put off meddling long enough. 

“Not my problem,” he grumbled to himself. It was easier to sleep after dimming the effectiveness of his Skill, and he’d ritualized the process somewhat. Mana poured from Cruz’s Skill, gathering into a dense mass over several long moments before he pushed Perception [Touch, Vibrations] to its limits. 

Mana surged out of Cruz. It travelled beyond the manor and beyond the grounds. For all the trouble his Core Skill had gotten him into, as Cruz felt his mana start rushing back to him, carrying with it a mental map that covered all of Dorbe, he was reminded why it had all been worth it. 

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Eva

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“Seriously?” Eva brushed a stubborn lock of hair behind her ear after her initial attempts at blowing it aside ended in failure. 

“Yes. Seriously. Tell me what you see.” Mira gestured towards the window with a slight, sideways nod of her head. 

“Go do your paperwork, Lieutenant.” When Mira plucked Eva from her room for an important discussion, she hadn’t mentioned that Will would be the subject matter. Eva turned to leave, but a large hand fell on her shoulder, forcing her to choose between stopping or potentially having an arm yanked from its socket. 

“First of all, rude,” Mira chirped without actually denying that she was procrastinating. “Second of all, it was not a request.” 

Eva bit back a frustrated groan but spun back around to face Mira all the same. 

“Yes, Lieutenant,” she breathed, voice thick with resignation. She had not planned on spending her respite between jobs watching the nepotism-Slayer-recruit play on an obstacle course, but orders were orders. “I see Will. I see the dog. I see the manor grounds. I see-” 

“Eva.” A warning tone crept into Mira’s voice. 

“He is running an obstacle course. I take it that is what you wanted me to point out?” 

“Yes. Our newest recruit runs it at least once a day.” 

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” 

“Are you not?” Mira quirked an eyebrow. “I swear, all I see that boy do is work on his Skills or stick his nose in a book.” 

“So you are suddenly okay with exceptions being made for him? I worked hard, too. I was not allowed in early and given all the resources I could ever need.” Eva could see the direction the conversation was heading. 

“The circumstances of your life before joining us were out of your control. You were a child. Why do you blame Will for his circumstances?” Mira’s words had a practiced air about them, making Eva suspect that a not-inconsiderable amount of time had gone into mulling them over. 

It felt like an ambush. 

“That… is not a fair comparison,” she breathed. 

“Maybe so,” Mira agreed, and Eva felt the hand on her shoulder shift such that it offered comfort instead of restraint. “But neither is it a competition. Do you know why Will works so hard?” 

Eva exhaled. Slowly. Ambush or not, Mira was making some valid points. 

“I do not,” she replied. 

“Neither do I.” Mira’s reply came almost instantly. “What I do know is that, Skill or not, Will has a goal he is chasing with a determination I have not seen in a child since you were his age. I could ask him, of course, but I figured you might want to do it.” 

“And why would I want to do that?” Eva leaned back slightly, putting her hands on her hips as she challenged the claim. If she was being honest, though, now that Mira had mentioned it she was– 

“You are curious.” Mira made no efforts to hide her smug expression. 

“I…” Eva sighed. Again. “Fine, I will talk to him, will that make you stop bugging me?” 

Mira shrugged.

“Probably not, but I can be stubborn that way.” 

“No shit.” 

There was a beat of silence before the pair broke into giggles. Tension gave way to mirth and connection at the drop of a hat. It was the closest thing to family Eva had left. That thought was enough to remind her why she became a Slayer in the first place, and just as quickly as it started, her mirth evaporated. 

“Want to go visit their trees?” Mira picked up on the mood almost immediately. 

“What about the whole thing with Will?” 

“That can wait,” Mira waved off the concern. Another day or two wouldn't kill the kid. “Besides, we lost our window.” 

Eva looked back down towards the slice of ground Will had claimed for himself in time to see his cousin and private tutor approach him. Evidently there’d been a lesson before he raced back out to exercise. Eva pretended not to notice the pang of envy she felt. 

“So we have,” Eva said. Mira was right. Will could wait.      

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Blanca

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Blanca raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun and free her from the need to make such an unsightly squint. Some faces probably looked delightful when they were all scrunched up. Blanca was of the firm opinion that hers was not one of them. No, she wore pleasant expressions much better. 

It was a shame that Will was unable to join her and Alicia, but such was usually the case. Blanca walked slowly, taking one step for every two of Alicia’s. The young girl wore a bright smile, seemingly opting not to linger on her cousin’s absence. Blanca was not normally one to linger, either, but she knew why that day was proving to be an exception. 

It was a shame Will was unable to join her and Alicia, because if he had, Blanca could have delayed sending her report back to the Duscall household. The letter sat heavy in the small basket she carried. Matters of money were among the most unsatisfactory of motivators. Alicia’s father demanded an assessment to see how Will would fall into his plans, all in the name of wealth. 

It was hard for Blanca to critique the practice, though, since she was complying in the name of her own future employment. She just didn’t like it. 

“Is everything okay, Maestra Blanca? You are making the face you make when you are upset about something but pretending not to be.” Alicia had skipped ahead a few steps and rounded on Blanca to ask the question. There was no judgement in the question, Blanca knew, just the kind of innocent curiosity that permeated most of Alicia’s actions. 

“There are some troubles I am mulling over,” Blanca admitted, “but I wanted to do so privately which is why I disguised my expression.” 

“Oh!” Alicia’s cheeks flushed. “I did the thing again, right?” 

“You did, but you are also my student and we are close. It is easy for people to slip up when they are comfortable.” It wasn’t the first time Blannca had told Alicia as much, but when a girl could remember everything a person ever said to her the challenge became figuring out how to parse the information. It was only with experience that Alicia would learn what was important. 

The pair travelled in relative silence after that, making their way towards a corner of Dorbe where a branch of Drake’s Deliveries had set up shop. The monopoly they had on courier services was the envy of merchants everywhere. Several plots of land had been repurposed into a large pond. A stout stone building stood front and center, ready to receive any clients. 

It was not the sight that greeted people, though. It was the sound of dozens of ducks living their lives, be they splashing, flapping or quacking. Academically speaking, there was plenty about the deceptively dopey creatures that Blannca found fascinating as she did horrifying. To most, though, they were the web-footed waddlers who made deliveries. 

“Did you want to stay here and watch the ducks or come inside with me?” Asking the question was important, even though Blanca already knew the answer. Alicia was already wandering towards the pond, armed with the roll she’d fished from Blanca’s basket, one she’d saved from the day before.

Blanca similarly fished the letter from her basket, careful not to crush the thing should a spike of nervous energy strike. The letter was sealed, addressed, and a symbol of minor defiance. For while her assessment of Will was technically accurate, she’d been rather deliberate in how she framed the information to hopefully spare her newest student too many headaches. It wasn’t much, but it was the most she could do without jeopardizing her employment beyond repair. 

She may have needed the money, but her pride as an educator hadn't been completely eroded.

Blanca was so absorbed with her thoughts that she almost collided with a man exiting the reception building, a guardsman with a mole above his lip in the process of tucking a pair of letters into a pouch at his belt. 

“Apologies,” she muttered, but the man just waved her off. A relief, all things considered.  

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Isa

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Isa wiped down the bar. She knew that she would wipe it down again later, it and every other surface in the tavern. A surprising percentage of her work day was spent cleaning, such that she’d eventually taken a Skill for it out of sheer practicality. She could scrub just so and banish any stains that dared tarnish the varnish. 

She gave a satisfied nod before tucking the damp rag back into one of the pockets of her apron. Folks would start tricking in for their evening meals eventually. In the meantime, there was plenty to keep Isa busy. It was probably why someone chose that exact moment to walk through her door.    

A tabard bearing a hammer and chisel; a sword at the hip and a mole above the lip; Isa numbered several guards among her regulars, but the man stepping into her establishment was not one of them. 

“Welcome sir,” Isa called, effortlessly slipping into hospitality. “Snuck off for a drink on your break, have we?” She chuckled to sell the bit. “Not a worry. It can be our little secret.” 

The guardsman smiled, briefly, as Isa knew he would. It was when that smile faltered beneath the discipline of duty that she resisted the urge to sigh. The guardsman was there on business. 

“You are Isa Lostro, owner of this establishment, correct?” 

Straight to business. There was something about that to be appreciated, at least. 

“That is correct,” Isa agreed as she stepped around the bar to meet the guardsman halfway. “What can I do for you?”

“You have recently been seen hosting a personnel of interest, one Will Duscall.” It wasn’t a question.

“The Slayer recruit?” Isa held back a scoff. “With all due respect, sir, if a Slayer is a person of interest I am going to need more than the words of an unranked guardsman to get involved.” She crossed her arms. 

The guardsman frowned at that, for a moment, before he shrugged and adopted annnn easygoing smile that immediately put Isa on edge. Slimy. That was the word for it. She was thankful that her daughter and grandson were out running a quick errand.  

“Understood,” the guardsman said before reaching into a pouch at his belt and withdrawing a letter. “I was instructed to deliver this to you to help you understand the importance of your cooperation.” 

Isa took the offered letter. The wax seal bore the symbol of the Third Seat, a shield adorned with the symbol of an eye. Her expression grew dark. It wasn't addressed to anyone, and when Isa broke the seal she saw why. It contained a smaller, folded letter. That one was addressed to her, but it didn't say Isa Lostro. It said an old name, and just seeing it was enough to send a chill down her spine.