Searching for Clues

Like many inventors and artists, Lord Silver was an eccentric man. Bursting into the Knight's Headquarters like a storm demanding access to the lab with little care over decorum or protocol. The poor receptionist was flustered and lost, soothed only by the artificer's wife who smiled apologetically for her husband's chaotic nature. While his energy was wild personality was almost youthful, his hair was peppered with gray and age lined his face, carving deep circles around his eyes. Laurette, in contrast, appeared more likely to be his daughter than his spouse.

"I'm glad that you were able to come and join us," Gabriel greeted, pulling the inventor's attention away from the panicking receptionist, who was running out of excuses and apologies to placate her interrogator.

"Why, Lord Gabriel! You're doing well I see!" he laughed loudly before pulling the High Paladin into a crushing hug, aggravating just about every mending wound on his body. Oblivious to the pained smile on Gabriel's face, "I heard you found some very peculiar toy for me, yes?"

"Yes. Now, if you'll allow me to bring you to-"

"Hurry, hurry! We certainly don't have all day."

Laurette chuckled from behind her husband, "He's been like this since we got the call, like a child I tell you." Silver ignored them both and instead pushed his way down the hall leading farther in the Knight's Headquarters. He knew exactly where he wanted to be.

Knowing that there was no stopping the eccentric man, Gabriel fell into step next to Lady Laurette, "I'm surprised you come here on such short notice."

"My husband received a call from Lord Dasden's sweet boy. He has quite a way with words I suppose. It was very convincing to my dearest, as you can see."

Gabriel frowned, wondering what Clovis could have said to catch the odd man's attention.

The lab was one of the messiest places in the entirety of the bustling Knight's Headquarters, the head technician was a senile old man that Gabriel wasn't certain with how he was going to have him replaced yet. The old fellow barely had the time to squint at the intruders in his abode, Lord Silver had already leap towards counter on which evidence was laid out.

"My are these the treasures I heard so plentiful about!" He singsonged as he scooped a thick silver bracelet in one hand and the ruby necklace in the other. The necklace that Theoran wore had lost a bit of its brilliance, the ruby that hung from silver chains cracked and dulled. Lord Silver placed it back down to looker closer at the bracelet. The magicite that along the ledges in a zigzag design pulsed with light from the touch, eliciting a childish owlish look on the artificer, "How fascinating!"

Mana around the contraption seemed to warp and Gabriel remembered the way electricity danced along the surface of his fingertips when he picked the cursed thing up. He remembered Theoran whose mana expanded and corrupted, his skin black with red glowing eyes. "What do you make of it?" he asked Silver impatiently.

"The maker is an absolute genius!" Silver sang in praise, "It's what I called a Booster, a contraption designed to enhance the quality of an existing Resonance Core, rather than simply acting as a surrogate for a coreless individual. I have thought about making such an item myself, however without any glimmer of success."

Gabriel made a face, "Is this product something you would call successful?" His voice was barely kept steady. Even without Gabriel interfering with Lord Theoran's corruption with Earth Magic, his body would no doubt have had the same fate. It would simply have taken longer.

Meanwhile, Silver hadn't noticed Gabriel's disapproval in the slightest, "Well, certainly! At least in the Oracle's perspective, this is not only a success for the pinnacle of achievement! Do I envy the man. From what I can tell so far, like the rest of the Oracle's creations, this tool is hardly fit for our safety regulations. The amount of mana corruption that comes out of this thing will most likely even drive a Lord or Lady with the highest magical resistance mad over time."

"..." Gabriel said nothing. If he opened his mouth, something ruder than usual would probably escape.

Lady Laurette cut into her husband's ramble, "Yes well, aside from madness and an increased chance of demonic possession, mana corruption, as we understand now, does not only affect the individual directly in contact with it. The environment suffers as well."

"Oh Laurette darling, no one but you environmentalists even care about that kind of thing," he laughed, "but I suppose that's a point as well. Still, imagine if we could create Boosters that followed Imperial safety regulations. How that could change the country!" Something sparkled in the man's eyes, perhaps inspiration or perhaps madness.

The two began to argue in manner that was both aggressive and playful. Gabriel found his focus weaver, their words blurring and muffled beneath the overbearing presence of a headache and throbbing shoulder. He excused himself from the lab, allowing the couple to bicker over the effects of corrupted mana by themselves. After all, he already had the information he needed.

Silver was right about one thing, Boosters could really change the country. Whether it was for good or for bad, Gabriel wasn't keen on finding out, especially now that the only option for desperate nobles to improve their magical abilities was this illegal source.

Gabriel itched to get back to work, tireless in his desire to root out the spread of illegal ARCs. He would do anything if it wasn't for the thick fog of pain that interfered with his concentration and iron will. If he was to accomplish any progress today, it wasn't going to be staring at a computer screen that made him feel nauseous.

On his way out of the office, he spotted his newly assigned assistant chattering with the crowd in the lab while Silver prodded the mysterious Booster with flashes of magic. It occurred to the High Paladin to call out for his assistant to accompany him. But he didn't and instead left the vicinity alone.

The drive to the Old Port was meant to set his thoughts straight. At least that was the idea, but Gabriel found himself to be in a daze by the time he arrived and for a moment he wasn't quite sure what exactly he was hoping to accomplish. Cursing at himself after standing idly by his parked car, Gabriel realized he wasn't quite behaving like normal lately. He blamed the headache and the fact that he didn't have the chance to organize his thoughts during the long ride to his destination.

Right. There was something he wanted to check, a nagging suspicion that had been plaguing his sleep of late. There had to be a reason why Frode was there on the night of the raid, and if he were to guess, it probably had something to do with guild work. The obvious conclusion was that there was a relation between Crimson Crown and Firebirds. But Gabriel wanted proof first, something that wasn't Frode's presence at the Javanis estate. That, he to keep private.

When he went to the docks and combed through the flags that decorated incoming ships, he failed to find what he was searching for. Locally stationed officers frowned at his questions, saying that Crimson Crown hadn't docked in the past few days, and that they had left the ports already.

It didn't feel right. Gabriel refused to give up, despite the ails that plagued him. He swallowed more pills and went on his way. The old building once used by the Firebirds now sat in shambles, still barred off from the world with yellow tape. But with the lack of surveillance, he already saw signs of contamination; broken windows that were once intact and tasteless graffiti scribbled across brick walls. What were the Knights even doing?

All the telling evidence and documents were long collected, stored away in the headquarters archives. The chances of happening upon important physical clues were slim to none, not to mention the contamination of the scene now made the location practically useless to investigate. And yet, Gabriel still found himself drawn. There was one other way to procure a lead from the shambles of a forgotten crime scene.

The air was thick with dust and the scent of mold. The basement had been cleared of the rows and rows of crates. In the end, only some of them contained illegal ARCs, but they were all confiscated and removed nonetheless, leaving a wide empty space that echoed every single one of Gabriel's steps.

The only thing left reminder of the violence and murders that took place that night was the sprawl of rusted brown that splayed across the concrete floor. Gabriel walked over to the scene of the crime. How easy would it be, to slice open his palm and perform a tracking ritual? Earth magic might be volatile, not to mention, outright illegal but it could perform feats far beyond the capabilities of sky magic. All he had to do was offer up a bit of his life force, and if mother nature was feeling generous, she would allow him to trace the very strands of fate and unravel the mysteries behind their assassins.

There was a ringing in his ear that he ignored as he knelt next to the dried blood. Unlike sky magic, there was no precise science behind old rituals. So Gabriel closed his eyes, trying as he could to listen to the murmurs within the air and the shifting of stone and earth beneath his feet. Anything, for a sign.

Light flashed behind closed lids, a silent siren blared in his skull. Gabriel blinked, feeling his consciousness spin and slip. That wasn't good.

On shaky legs, he pulled himself up. There were voices in his head, but maybe they were simply fractions of memory. Anita laughing and Svorn's nose crunching under his fist. There was Frode too, who smiled at him as he rested his head down on Gabriel's shoulder. That must have been ages ago.

Gabriel was back in the Port Town, with twilight brushed across the sky. He leaned against his car, parked on the side of the road. In a daze, he was smoking, a fresh pack of cigarettes in hand with no idea how they even got there. Tossing the offending stub onto the ground, Gabriel scowled at it as he kicked the bud away. He had quit smoking ages ago, just what was he thinking? Or rather, why wasn't he thinking at all?

It was an unproductive day. And while Gabriel would usually refuse to relent until he felt suitable progress made, there was an ache in his body that was disturbingly large. He'd lost the battle against himself, and now he was forced to concede. Gabriel closed his eyes and sighed, letting the chill of nightfall brush against the hairs on the back of his neck and down the curve of his spine.

He must head home, and at least try to rest. Or somehow will away the fire destroying his ability to think. For a moment he debated about the pack of cigarettes clutched in his palm before finally crushing it in a tight fist and tossing them out in the nearest trash.

But fate was a fickle witch, and when Gabriel reached for the handle of his car door, a voice called out for him, "Lord High Paladin!" It was low yet lyrical, and while most people thought the sound comforting and soothing, Gabriel found Prince Aryon's voice to be grating.

Slowly, he steadied his breath before turning around. A sleek black car stopped next to Gabriel's, with a window partly rolled down. Prince Aryon with his deep auburn hair and bright golden eyes smiled and waved at him.

Gabriel held back a scowl. "Your Highness," he greeted mechanically, "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

The window was kept half-up, just enough for the prince's face to peer out of the passenger side, "I was doing a shoot in the old castle." He tilted his head, giving a perfect angle for an imaginary camera. Looking closer there was sheen of glitter around smoky eyes.

Prince Kaighle was likened to a soft puppy that wagged his tail for encouragement and praise, compared to Prince Aryon was a proud and noble wolf. Despite his youth, he had already a plethora of achievements under his belt, from academic, arcane to military. The public adored him, the nobles respected him and even feared him. For Prince Aryon was not just hard-working and ambitious, but he was also stubborn, unyielding and cunning.

"I see." The knight answered stiltedly.

If the prince was affected by Gabriel's brisk answers and clipped tone, he made no show of it. "You know, I feel like I haven't seen you in ages! Why don't we have a drink or two, for old time's sake?"

What a load of bullshit. Gabriel and Prince Aryon were never friends, there wasn't anything to catch up on. They've always sort of known each other in passing, loose acquaintances at best. And it was no secret which side of the Court Gabriel supported. "I will pass. Another time, perhaps." He turned away, ready to retreat into his car and away from the nuisance that was the sly prince Aryon.

"That's a pity! Frode here told me so many interesting stories about your drunken endeavors. I was so hoping to witness that side of the High Paladin myself."

The world came to a stop and Gabriel was certain he'd heard wrong but twisted back around anyways. The car door, now rolled all the way down gave a perfect view of silver hair, and Frode sour face refusing to meet his gaze.

"My you look awfully surprised," the prince laughed as he leaned back, giving Gabriel a better view of the driver. Frode didn't look his way. "This is my newly hired bodyguard, though I have a feeling you two are already well acquainted."

"Frode," he began, but Aryon was quick to cut off his thoughts.

"Anyways, we're going around some of the bars nearby and grabbing a drink to unwind. You could use some unwinding yourself, Lord High Paladin. Why don't you come join us?"

His attention snapped to the prince, "I don't think so, Your Highness, I," a pause, "I don't drink."

"Not anymore? Well that's a pity. Frode here tells me much about you, especially when you're under the influence," he winked again, "it's a shame I'm going to miss out."

Gabriel found himself speechless.

"Well, maybe another time then, we'll be seeing you around!" Aryon laughed while Frode just scoffed. The car whizzed off, leaving the High Paladin behind in a stupor.