Langston's Unemployed

April 1, 2025. Location: Western Wilderness near Kilrain, Scotland, then Fairy Sanctum.

Robert leaned forward, his shoulders tensing as he focused on Langston's unconscious form. His fingers twitched, activating the Analyze spell, a low hum filling the air as swirling light spiraled from his hands, surrounding Langston and casting shifting shadows across the rocky enclosure.

The spell settled, and information unfolded before Robert's eyes, details about Langston he hadn't expected. The sheer amount of raw skill and expertise hit him like a punch, all honed in science and engineering. "Hmm," Robert murmured, his brow furrowing as he tilted his head, "this is unexpected."

Hamish raised an eyebrow, his rough hands resting on the hilts of his twin shortswords propped against his knees. "What'd ye find?" he asked, his voice gruff with curiosity. "Something nasty?"

Robert shook his head, his eyes locked on the data filtering through his mind. "No," he said cautiously, "but this guy, he's smart. Really smart."

Hamish snorted, leaning back with a smirk tugging at his lips as he scratched his stubbled chin. "Aye, I gathered that when he started ramblin' about runes last time," he said. "What's got you so rattled?"

"Not just runes," Robert said, his voice dropping as he shook his head again. "His expertise is extensive." He gestured broadly with one hand. "Physics, engineering, electronics, he's practically a walking textbook of modern science."

With a flick of his wrist, Robert summoned a glowing orb of floating text, letting it hover between Snow and Hamish. "Look at this, Advanced Engineering at Rank 8. Surveillance Mastery. Programming, materials science, even quantum theory," he said, pausing to let it sink in, "and he's not just a dabbler, he's borderline genius."

Hamish frowned, his thick brows knitting together as he crossed his arms and tilted his head slightly. "Sounds like he'd be useful," he said. "What's the catch?"

Robert sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as the orb flickered. "His charisma is abysmal, worse than I thought," he replied, pointing at a line of text, "and he's got a trait called Fragmented Genius. Brilliant, sure, but his ideas come in bursts, and they're often chaotic."

He smirked faintly, adding, "He's as likely to create something groundbreaking as he is to blow himself up in the process."

Snow leaned closer, her green eyes glinting with curiosity as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Anything else?" she asked, her voice soft but eager.

"Oh, plenty," Robert said, grinning despite himself as he tapped the orb to pull up another detail. "He's got a perk called Jerry-Rigger, which lets him improvise tools or solutions when proper equipment isn't around," he explained, waving a hand dismissively. "Pretty impressive, he can build what he needs on the fly, though it's not always stable."

Snow chuckled, her lips curling into a warm smile as she adjusted her grip on her flask. "Sounds like he's both an asset and a liability," she said.

"That about sums it up," Robert replied, nodding. "He also has latent magical potential, surprisingly, tied to electricity, probably because of his tech affinity." He tilted his head, considering the possibilities. "If he ever got over his skepticism, he might develop some unique abilities, lightning magic, utility spells, maybe even a fusion of magic and science."

Langston stirred, his head lolling to the side with a low groan escaping his lips as his fingers twitched into the dirt beneath him. Snow froze mid-motion, her flask in hand, her eyes narrowing slightly. Hamish leaned forward, elbows digging into his knees, his posture alert but relaxed. Robert saw Chaucer tilt his head with exaggerated curiosity near the stone doorway, his long tail flicking lazily behind him.

Robert stood, brushing the dirt off his hands, and stepped closer as tension thickened in the stone enclosure. Langston's groan deepened, his eyes fluttering open, squinting against the dim glow from the ceiling light. He tried to sit up, arms trembling, but Hamish leaned forward, planting one heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Not so fast, lad," Hamish said, his voice low and firm, pressing Langston back down with ease. "We've a few questions for ye first."

Langston blinked rapidly, his face scrunching in confusion as he shook off the daze, his gaze sweeping the room before locking onto Robert, recognition flaring in his tired eyes. "You," he croaked, his voice hoarse, pointing a shaky finger at Robert. "You're the dig site guy."

Robert crossed his arms, meeting Langston's glare with a steady stare. Snow knelt beside him, offering the flask of water silently. Langston hesitated, his lip curling slightly, before snatching it and gulping it down with desperate swallows.

Robert watched closely, noting the dirt smudged across Langston's face, the dark circles under his eyes, and the way his coat hung off his frame. Whatever had happened, it had worn him down to the bone.

Langston finished drinking, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then glared at Robert again. "What is this?" he snapped, his voice raspy but sharp. "Some kind of ransom? Revenge? What do you want?"

Robert crouched to his level, his knees brushing the dirt, keeping his tone even. "Answers," he said.

Langston laughed bitterly, his head tipping back against the rock with a thud, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Figures, everyone wants something from me."

Robert leaned in slightly, his eyes narrowing. "Start with why you were exiled from the Enclave."

Langston stiffened, his jaw clenching, fingers digging into the dirt. For a moment, Robert thought he'd clam up, but then he sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Because they're idiots," Langston said, his voice low and bitter as he gestured vaguely. "That's why they didn't appreciate what I brought to the table," he added, shaking his head with a scowl. "After everything I did for them, they threw me out like garbage."

Robert tilted his head, pressing, "Why?"

Langston spat, his voice cracking with venom as he slammed a fist into the ground. "Because I failed, that's all it takes, one screw-up, and you're out." He sneered, "They think I'm useless now, dead weight."

Snow frowned, leaning forward, her hands on her knees. "What did you fail at?" she asked gently.

Langston hesitated, his gaze flicking between them, fingers tapping nervously against the flask. "The rune," he muttered, looking away, his jaw tight. "That damn rune you stole from me at the dig site, they think it was my responsibility, my failure."

Robert's eyes narrowed as he leaned closer, his voice firm. "It was your responsibility, you were stealing it."

Langston glared, his lip curling, but the fire in his eyes flickered and faded, his hands dropping to his sides. "It wasn't just about the rune," he said quietly, his voice losing its edge. "It was bigger than that."

He gestured broadly, frustration creeping back in. "The Enclave doesn't just collect magical artifacts, they suppress them, erase them, make sure no one can ever use them again," he said, shaking his head. "That rune wasn't just a piece of stone, it was a key, a piece of something much larger." He glared at Robert weakly. "And because of you, they think I lost it."

Hamish leaned forward, his voice blunt. "Did you?"

Langston's mouth twisted into a bitter smile, his eyes glinting with dark humor as he shrugged limply. "Does it matter?" he snorted. "They didn't even care enough to find out the truth, all that mattered was the failure."

Robert watched carefully, his arms crossed. "And now you want revenge," he said, studying Langston's reaction.

Langston's smile faltered, his expression hardening as he clenched his fists, his voice trembling with anger. "What I want is to make them regret ever casting me out," he said, pointing a shaky finger at Robert. "They don't get to throw me away and walk away unscathed."

Robert exchanged a glance with Hamish and Snow, noting Hamish's skeptical squint and Snow's thoughtful frown. This wasn't just revenge driving Langston; there was hurt, anger, pride, desperation—a man who'd lost everything, clawing for a lifeline.

Langston's gaze shifted, landing on Chaucer, his eyes widening in shock as he recoiled, scrambling back against the rock with a yelp. "What the hell is that?!" he shouted, pointing wildly.

Robert saw Chaucer straighten with a flourish, brushing off his coat with flair, his whiskers twitching. "Ah, the inevitable moment of astonishment, I do so cherish it," Chaucer said, sauntering closer, peering down at Langston with a smug grin. "Allow me to introduce myself, Chaucer, former Mushmouth of no renown, current Ratsassin of considerable skill." He bowed deeply, his tail flicking. "A pleasure, truly."

Langston stared, his mouth gaping as he pressed himself against the rock. "It, it talks?" he stammered, his voice pitching up in disbelief.

Chaucer sighed dramatically, rolling his beady eyes as he turned to Robert, a paw on his hip. "I always get this reaction, you'd think by now people would understand the concept of evolution," he said, pivoting back to Langston, his grin widening. "Yes, I talk, quite eloquently, in fact," he puffed out his chest, "and I might add, I've already saved your sorry hide once today, you're welcome."

Langston spluttered, his hands flailing as he looked between Robert and Chaucer. "What, what kind of madness is this?" he choked out, his voice cracking.

Chaucer tilted his head, feigning offense. "Madness?" he echoed, his voice rising in playful indignation. "Sir, I assure you, this is the pinnacle of civilized discourse," he smirked, adding, "Perhaps it's your limited imagination that makes it seem otherwise."

Snow stifled a giggle, her hand pressing against her mouth, while Hamish smirked, his rough chuckle rumbling. Langston muttered, "This, this is insane," shaking his head. "You're all insane."

Robert straightened, his tone even. "Perhaps, but that doesn't change the fact that you're here, and you're going to answer our questions."

Langston glared, his jaw tightening, but the fight drained out of him as he sagged back against the rock. "Fine," he grumbled, his voice flat, "ask your damn questions."

Robert settled back, crossing his arms. "Let's start simple. What exactly was the Enclave planning with that rune?"

Langston's lip curled, his fingers tapping an irritable rhythm against the flask. For a moment, Robert thought he'd snap something sarcastic, but he sighed, the weight of his situation sinking in. "The Enclave doesn't play around with things they don't understand," he said, his voice low and frustrated, waving a hand dismissively. "That rune? It wasn't just some trinket to put in a vault."

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing. "It was connected to something bigger, a gateway, and from what I gathered, they wanted to ensure it stayed shut."

Snow tilted her head, leaning forward, her chin in her hand. "Why shut it?" she asked softly, probing.

Langston gestured broadly, his hands slashing the air, his voice rising. "Because they're terrified of magic, anything that destabilizes their perfect little world of science and control is a threat." He snorted, "They didn't know what would happen if the gateway was activated, but the thought of something powerful coming through? It was enough to send them into a panic."

Robert leaned closer, his eyes narrowing. "And you? Did you share their fear, or were you just following orders?" he asked sharply but measured.

Langston's expression darkened, his hands clenching into fists as he stared at the ground. "I didn't fear it, I was fascinated by it," he said, looking up at Robert, his eyes glinting with defiance. "That's why I wanted to study the rune, to understand it," he shook his head bitterly, "but the Enclave doesn't care about understanding, they care about control."

He slumped back. "When I pushed for more research, they shut me down, and when the rune was stolen, I became the scapegoat."

Hamish leaned forward, scratching his jaw. "So, they cut you loose. Seems to me they did you a favor," he said, disdain in his tone.

Langston scoffed, shooting Hamish a glare. "Easy for you to say, you're not the one who lost everything," he snapped.

Hamish shrugged, unfazed, his hands resting on his swords. "You lost a job, not your soul," he said flatly.

The words hit Langston hard, his face twisting with pain as he glanced down at his hands, flexing his fingers. "You don't understand," he muttered, barely audible. "The Enclave was my life, my purpose," he shook his head slowly, "without them, I don't know who I am."

Robert leaned forward, his tone sharp but not unkind. "You have a chance to redefine that purpose, you're here now," he said, gesturing around the enclosure. "The Enclave may have cast you aside, but that doesn't mean your story is over."

Langston looked up, his expression wary. "And what? You're just going to trust me? Let me waltz into your little utopia and play nice?" he asked skeptically.

Robert's gaze hardened. "Trust is earned, and you've got a long way to go before you get mine," he said, pointing firmly. He softened slightly. "But you're here, Langston, that means you have a choice. Work with us, prove you're worth the effort, or walk away and fend for yourself."

Chaucer piped up, clapping his paws together. "I vote for him staying, at least for the entertainment value," he teased, eyeing Langston. "His existential crisis is quite riveting."

Langston glared, pointing at Chaucer. "You," he started, but Chaucer cut him off with a dismissive wave. "Oh, don't look at me like that, you'll find I grow on you, like moss or lichen," he said cheerfully.

Snow hid a smile, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Hamish chuckled, shaking his head. Langston scowled, crossing his arms tightly. "You're all insane," he muttered, but the edge in his voice softened, resignation creeping in.

Robert stood, brushing off his hands with a clap. "That's settled, then, you'll come back with us to Doras Dagda," he said, locking eyes with Langston. "You'll see what we're building and decide for yourself if you want to be part of it."

He paused, then leaned in, his voice low and serious. "But let me make one thing clear, if you cross me or endanger my people, I won't hesitate to deal with you, understood?"

Langston swallowed hard, nodding stiffly. "Understood," he said quietly.

"Good," Robert said, stepping back with a nod. "Hamish, help him up, we're heading back."

Hamish hauled Langston to his feet with a grunt, and Langston stumbled, catching himself, casting a wary glance around. Snow handed him the flask again, her eyes kind, and he accepted it without a word, clutching it tightly as he straightened.

As they trekked back toward Doras Dagda, Chaucer bounded ahead, calling over his shoulder, "So, what shall we call him? The Fallen Scientist? The Weasel of Woe?"

Robert smirked, shaking his head. "Let's just stick with Langston," he said dryly.

Chaucer sighed dramatically, throwing his paws up. "Fine," he said, his tone dripping with mock disappointment, "but only because you insist, m'lord."

Langston muttered something, his shoulders hunching as he trudged along, but Robert ignored it, his focus shifting ahead. There was much to learn about Langston, and whether he could be trusted was anyone's guess, but for now, he was coming with them.

As they walked, Robert felt something off, not eyes in the shadows, but a compass spinning wildly, signaling something powerful nearby. The air grew heavier, almost electric, pressing against his skin.

Chaucer noticed first, his nose twitching as he hopped ahead, then paused. "M'lord Robert," he said, spinning with a flourish, "I smell something peculiar."

Robert raised an eyebrow, slowing his pace. "Peculiar how?" he asked calmly but curiously.

Chaucer tilted his head, his paws clasping together as he grinned. "Like flowers," he said playfully yet sharply, "not the good kind, mind you, the kind that make you sneeze and dream funny things after you fall asleep sniffing them."

Snow giggled, brushing her hair back as she smirked. "That's oddly specific, Chaucer," she said lightly.

Chaucer puffed up his chest, his tail flicking proudly. "Aye, I'm a rat of specifics," he shot back, winking at her.

Hamish narrowed his eyes, his hand drifting to one of his short swords as he scanned the horizon. "Fairy business, you think?" he muttered suspiciously. "The tricky bastards?"

Robert paused, his hand on his hip, considering. Fairy magic wasn't something to shrug off—playful one minute, vicious the next.

Langston groaned, throwing his hands up. "Fairies? Seriously? What kind of fantasy crap is this?"

Robert glanced back, smirking as he tilted his head. "Yeah, Langston," he said dryly, "just like living stone knights and rat assassins are bedtime tales, right?"

Langston's mouth snapped closed, scowling at the ground. Robert waved Snow and Hamish forward. "Use your scouting skills, pinpoint whatever's causing this disturbance."

Snow nodded, closing her eyes as her staff glowed with steady light, her lips moving silently. Hamish climbed a nearby boulder, his boots scraping the rock as he scanned the valley.

Snow opened her eyes, her voice soft but sure. "There's something up ahead," she said, her staff dimming as she pointed. "It's definitely a portal, newly formed, I think."

Hamish squinted into the distance, shielding his eyes. "Aye, I see something too," he called down, his voice rough. "Down the valley, near the cliff edge, it looks like a shimmer in the air."

A new Sanctum, Robert knew, Sanctums weren't subtle, and the glimmer Hamish described matched what he'd seen before. But this one felt different, a siren's song, inviting yet threatening. He nodded, his decision quick. "We're checking it out."

As they approached, the landscape shifted subtly, the path twisting, cliffs looming taller, their shadows stretching long. Langston muttered about "optical illusions" and "natural phenomena," but Robert tuned him out—this was magic, no question.

The portal came into view, shimmering with an iridescent glow, colors shifting like oil on water. A shiver ran down Robert's spine as he stopped short. "Fairy Sanctum," he muttered, his voice tight.

Hamish stepped beside him, his brow furrowing. "How can you tell?" he asked gruffly, gripping his swords.

Robert pointed toward the portal, his hand steady. "The aura, the colors, and the feeling," he said, pausing to meet Hamish's gaze. "It's like it's daring us to step inside."

Robert saw Chaucer clamber onto a rock, peering at the portal with wide eyes. "It smells sweet," Chaucer said brightly, "like candy."

Hamish snorted, his lip curling. "Aye, well, you can keep your candy," he said dryly. "I've no interest in getting tricked by some sprite."

Chaucer grinned wickedly, leaning toward Hamish. "You're just scared you'll fall for a pretty fae lass," he teased, "and end up dancin' till your boots wear out."

Hamish glared, his hand tightening on his sword hilt. "Keep talking, rat," he growled, "and I'll show you what gets worn out."

Snow stepped between them, her staff raised slightly, shooting them a stern look. "Enough, both of you," she said firmly but calmly. "This Sanctum feels dangerous."

She turned to Robert, her expression serious. "We need to decide if we're going in now or heading back to Doras Dagda to prepare."

Robert's jaw tightened as he stared at the portal. "We don't know what's inside, but we can guess: sprites, brownies, maybe even unseelie fairies," he said, glancing at the group, "all of them tricky, all of them dangerous."

He crossed his arms. "If we go in now, we'll be unprepared, if we go back to Doras Dagda, we can gear up, maybe bring more people."

Langston threw his hands up in exasperation. "You're seriously considering walking into that thing?" he said, his voice rising. "You don't even know what's on the other side!"

Robert turned to him, his smirk returning. "Langston," he said dryly, "you're here to learn, so start learning." He gestured toward the portal. "Sanctums are how this world works now, we don't avoid them, we face them head-on."

Langston muttered "suicidal idiots" under his breath, crossing his arms tightly, but Robert ignored him, focusing on the shimmering portal. "All right, everyone," he said, his voice cutting through the tension, "do we head in or head back to prepare?"

Silence stretched as they stood before the portal, its swirling energy casting shifting light over the rocky terrain. Robert saw unease in their faces, except Hamish, who looked annoyed.

"We're going in," Robert said sharply, stepping forward.

Hamish adjusted his grip on his swords, a faint grin tugging at his lips. "About time," he muttered, falling into step beside Robert.

Snow hesitated, clutching her staff tightly as she bit her lip. "Robert," she said softly, her voice worried, then trailed off, pulling her staff closer, steeling herself.

Chaucer clapped his paws together, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Ah, excellent!" he chirped, bouncing on his feet. "Into the jaws of mystery we go! Treasures abound, danger awaits, exactly how I like it."

Langston crossed his arms tighter, his scowl deepening as he shuffled behind. "That's a terrible mindset," he grumbled sourly. "Do any of you ever consider not charging headfirst into unknown danger?"

Robert glanced back, his tone dry. "Langston, if I wanted your advice on bravery, I'd ask," he smirked. "For now, just try to keep up."

Langston's muttering faded into the portal's hum as Robert looked at the group—Snow's hesitant nod, Hamish's eager grin, Chaucer's infectious bounce, even Langston adjusting his bag despite his grumbling. This was his team, flawed, strange, sometimes infuriating, but his.

They stepped through the portal, the transition hitting like a jolt, cold air rushing past, a fleeting sense of falling, then solid ground under Robert's boots. He opened his eyes, blinking as a dreamlike world unfolded, the forest shimmering with magic, its trees glowing with a soft silver hue, their leaves reflecting the light.

Tiny orbs floated lazily through the air, casting an otherworldly radiance, while the ground was carpeted with moss, its color shifting subtly under their feet. The air felt thick with power, pressing against Robert like a living presence.

Snow's breath caught, her eyes widening as she clutched her staff. "It's beautiful," she whispered, her voice trembling with awe.

Robert saw Chaucer tilt his head, his nose twitching as he scanned the trees. "Beautiful? Yes," he said cautiously yet playfully, "safe? Absolutely not." He grinned slyly. "Places like this always have a catch, mark my words."

Hamish snorted, rolling his shoulders as he gripped his swords. "Are you ever not dramatic?" he asked dryly.

Chaucer spun to face him, paws on his hips, smirking. "Hamish, my friend," he said theatrically, "drama is what makes life worth living."

Hamish rolled his eyes, muttering as he turned away. Langston stood apart, his arms crossed, squinting at the trees. "This place is unnatural," he said sharply. "Nothing here follows the laws of physics."

Robert smirked, glancing back at him as he stepped forward. "Good thing we're not here for a science lecture, then," he said dryly.

The soft moss muffled Robert's footsteps as he moved deeper into the forest, the trees forming a dense canopy, letting only faint shafts of silver light pierce through. No birds chirped, no leaves rustled, just the steady hum of magic filling the silence.

Robert glanced back at the group, his thoughts swirling. This wasn't his first Sanctum, but this one felt different, not just the beauty, but the weight, the way the magic pressed against his skin. Sanctums always feel alive to me, he thought, not just the creatures, but the sanctums themselves, like they're testing us, judging if we're worthy of their secrets. This one's no different, the magic's thick, almost oppressive, but not hostile, not yet, it's waiting, watching.

He studied his team: Snow's wide-eyed awe, her staff gripped tight; Hamish tense but confident; Chaucer crouching low, eyes sharp; even Langston, alert despite his grumbling. They trusted him to lead. That trust was heavy, but it fueled him too.

Chaucer's voice broke through, light and teasing as he straightened. "So, fearless leader," he said, his whiskers twitching, "what's the plan?"

Robert turned to him, his voice firm as he scanned the forest. "We move carefully, no splitting up, no touching anything unless I say so."

Hamish grinned, his swords glinting faintly in the light. "And if something attacks?" he asked eagerly.

Robert smirked, meeting his gaze. "Then we hit back harder."

Hamish's grin widened, nodding in satisfaction.

Snow stepped closer, her voice soft but steady. "Robert," she said, her eyes flickering with concern, "I feel something ahead." She paused, tilting her head. "A presence, it's there."