Chapter 4
World Gone Wrong
“That’s an awful approach to life!” Bronkheim laughed and slapped the old, beer-stained table he was sat at. Across from him, Coco and Nia were snickering behind their hands and drinks. Charlotte was the only one who wasn’t laughing. Though a thin varnish of mock indignation was painted over her face, but it failed to hide the small smile she wore.
“We’ll see if you’re saying that once you’re the one responsible for a first star!” She quipped back, then gestured apologetically to Coco. “Sorry, dear, I’m only joking.” The Coco smiled back at Charlotte, nodding appreciatively, then taking a swig of the cider sat before her. “Well from what Michelle tells us; you weren’t exactly an easy understudy either? He said you and Whiskey used to get into constant fights on jobs!”
Again, Charlotte smiled. Leaning back in her chair, she swung one leg over the other and gracefully sipped at her wine before conceding a hum and nodding her head. “Whiskey used to start them, though.” The deflection was met with a chorus of smaller laughs. While the others took contemplative sips from their drinks, Nia filled the lull in conversation.
Since leaving the Colosseum, Nia had joined Bronkheim, Charlotte and Coco at a local haunt called Murphy’s Law. Once upon a time, it had been nothing more than a wine cellar with a stairwell and door that went onto the street. Its history showed in the architecture. The entrance and bar, as well as the ground floor seating, were blanketed by a small roof lined with support decorated by old coasters. Extra seating had been added upstairs by the owner, renovating the house above when he bought the place, the old living room and the bedrooms had been stripped down to the wooden floorboards and filled with creaky tables and stools. Most people who entered Murphy’s Law stopped at the bar, grabbed a drink and immediately filtered off to the upstairs regions, walking by the rickety old stairs that went into the cellar proper.
Down at the bottom of those stairs, tucked around a corner next to barrels of alcohol, was a single booth with a table and a few chairs. The cobblestone floor was smooth and cool, and the added descent beneath the street created a far more comfortable distance between one’s head and the ceiling above them. There, tucked away in the smoky corner, Nia had found her drinking companions. She had arrived during the middle of an excited conversation, Bronkheim and Charlotte were philosophising over their alcohol, spurred on by the first braveries of their respective drinks. Bronkheim sat with a dark, heavy stout, sipping at it and swiping away the foam from his upper lip. Sat across from him, Charlotte had opted for a cool, white wine, taking her time to enjoy it.
“So, are you serious about this pessimism thing, Charlotte?
After putting her glass down and waiting for the wave of giggles to pass over Bronkheim and Coco, Charlotte furrowed her brow in thought before she rolled her head over to face Nia. “Yes, I consider myself a practical-pessimist. It’s not because I dislike anybody or lack faith in them, it’s just a recognition of statistics.” She shrugged as she answered.
Nia hummed in understanding. Sil often preached a similarly ‘risk-averse’ approach to his work. He knew he could do a lot more good for people over the remaining five or six years he’d spend as a member of the Silverwatch if he was alive than he could if he had died on a single, relatively unimportant job.
“But it’s not just preparation, right? It’s an opportunity cost.” Bronkheim threw his hat into the ring while Nia was contemplating Charlotte’s words. “If you spend ages looking over your back for the person you’re working with, you’ll miss out on chances in the field that you can’t get back later.”
As Charlotte was gearing up to answer him, Nia jumped in again. “Yeah, and if you’re always assuming that things are going to go wrong, doesn’t that mean that you have to divert effort into preparing solutions for problems that might not even come up?”
Bronkheim nodded and offered Nia a high five, which she enthusiastically took. His palms were rough and course, as though he had spent a life time climbing cliff faces. More than that, his slightly inebriated attempt at the manoeuvre carried a lot more force than he had intended. The impact of their high-five sent tingles of pain down Nia’s arm, though Bronkheim did not notice and Nia did not tell him. They both turned back to Charlotte, who studied them with an eyebrow raised in bemusement.
“Those are very good points, you two. But consider this, who has the best record for minimising collateral damage on missions?”
“Ashara.” Coco cut in, smiling behind her cider.
“Obviously, but there’s no point in counting him in these discussions. After him?” She looked back at Coco as she led the younger woman through her argument.
“You do, Charlotte.” Coco conceded, looking back at Bronkheim for support. He was deep in thought, opening his mouth occasionally then closing it again before he could speak. Charlotte carried on.
“Exactly. Being part of the Silverwatch isn’t like being hit women, we aren’t killers roaming the streets lawless. If a civilian dies as part of a job that we’re on, then we’ve failed, regardless of whether or not we capture the offender or he escapes.” Charlotte’s voice took on a more serious tone for a moment, and the group let her words hang in silence for a few seconds as they took another drink.
“Who’s Michelle?” Nia asked. She remembered the name being mentioned earlier, back at the colosseum, but couldn’t attach it to anyone from Sil’s stories. Part of her was curious to know, especially given the reverence in Coco’s voice as she mentioned him. Part of her was eager to change the conversation away from the sombre topic of civilian casualties.
“Michelle is a four-star tuner, the only one in our branch of the Silverwatch right now.” Bronkheim answered her question with an excited grin. “He’s a real character.”
“He’s been away on a job for a few weeks, in Gedunda I believe?” Coco looked to Charlotte for confirmation, who nodded and stared through her drink before she spoke. “He should be coming back soon; he was asked to help with an operation on the boarder.”
Nia’s eyes widened a little. Gedunda was the country to the south of Talgara, of which Ancerbridge was the capital city. Growing up, Sil had told her of the constant wars between the Gedundan people and the coastal country of Stannigrad. As he told it, the fighting was fierce and fought nearly entirely in trenches in the desert. Nia had known that the Gedundan military worked far more closely with their branch of the Silverwatch, but not that tuners like her in Ancerbridge could be called onto the front.
“Do we often get missions that require us going to other countries, then?” The Silverwatch had branches in three countries. There was the Talgaran branch, where the four of them served, as well as the Gedundan and Cannaran branches. Her fingers drummed nervously on the table as she thought about the prospect of fighting on a foreign battlefield, the fire and the ruin. Shaking her head, she regretted asking.
“It depends on the other branches and what they need, but we expect to get called on twice or thrice a year.” Charlotte paused for a second to sip from her drink. “After all, there are only about thirty to forty tuners in the Silverwatch at all on any given year, things wouldn’t be possible without collaboration between the different branches.” She gestured at Coco, who nodded before chiming in. “I was actually trained in Cannarar, then came over here to work.”
Nia whipped her head around. “Really? What’s it like out there?”
“It’s really humid and the wind gets pollen in your eyes all the time, so its awful if you have hay-fever.” Her tone told Nia that her issue was more personal than objective. “But the food and the plays are better than anywhere else in the world.”
At the mention of food, Bronkheim put a hand on his stomach and looked at the three tuners sat before him. “Guys I’m fucking starving; I’m going to order some food. Does anyone want to get anything?”
Charlotte paused for a beat, then grabbed a menu from the centre of the table and flicked through it for a minute before nodding to herself. “They have scampi and peas, that might go nice with some lemon… Yeah… Yeah, I’ll order some food with you, Bronkheim.”
The man smiled and looked to the others. “You two?”
“You owe me chips.” Coco fixed Bronkheim with a hard stare. He rolled his eyes and nodded. “One chips with cheese. Nia?”
Nia looked at the menu. Murphy’s Law was a nice pub, and the drink she bought had cost a little more than what she would have paid in her own company. Wincing at the price of a sandwich, she shook her head and turned to Bronkheim. “I’m okay thank you.”
“I’ll pay for your food, dear.” Charlotte called from halfway up the stairs. “It’s the least I can do after the performance you gave us earlier. Now, what would you like?”
Nia scanned back though the menu, looking for something inexpensive before landing on a chicken burger. After pointing it out to Bronkheim and Charlotte, she watched the two walk up the stairs to the bar, leaving Nia and Coco behind.
“So, how long have you been in the Silverwatch?” Nia stirred her straw within her glass absentmindedly, looking over at Coco as she did. The woman seemed quiet at first, but Nia leaned in, expecting some quip or dry joke. Coco looked to the ceiling, nodding as she counted under her breath. “About a year and a half. Joined at the same time as Bronkheim.”
“Oh, cool! What does your Resonance do?” Nia leaned forward across the table, eagerly hung on Coco’s answer.
“It’s a surveillance-type.” Coco fished a small block of wood and a carving knife out from the pocket of her oversized jacket. The chunk of wood was already half carved, and Nia could make out the shape of a pair of wings and some impressions of feathers. Coco pressed her thumb into the back of the knife and pushed it through the wood, slowly rounding its face. “I carve these little wooden birds; my resonance imbues them with life. I can see through their eyes, or just use them as a distraction, whatever I need from them basically.”
Nia’s face was aglow with joy. “That’s so cute! Can I hold one?”
“Sure?” Coco fished a finished bird, a small robin, out of her pocket and slid it across the table. Nia grabbed it and started turning it over in her hands. It was expertly made, nearly no hard ridges. Nia didn’t know anything about woodcarving herself, but she greatly enjoyed running her thumb over the rounded, slightly coarse surface of the bird.
“How long does it take you to make one of these?” She looked up at Coco, whose attention was focused on the half-finished block in her hands. She creased her face in thought again before shrugging. “I wanna say an hour? Maybe two? Using the resonance doesn’t destroy the bird, though, so I have a big back-log, you know?”
Nia nodded in appreciation before passing the bird back. Coco stuffed it in her pocket before swinging her leg onto the booth cushions. Just as her foot touched the velvet, Charlotte’s voice shouted down the stairs.
“Coco Mylin, I had better not see you getting wood chips all over our table!”
Coco flicked her wrist, folding the knife shut and stuffing it in her pocket like she’d done it a hundred times before. Stuffing knife and wood back in her pockets, she scraped a hand across the table and swept the wood chips onto the floor. Just as she kicked them into the space between two barrels, Bronkheim made his steady descent down the shaky stairs, another drink in hand. “Food’s on the way.” He sat down next to Nia, letting Charlotte take her seat at the head of the table.
“So, what have you two been talking about?” Charlotte quizzed Coco, whose attitude seemed to shift back to a reserved quiet. “My reson-ANCE!” Her voice came to a high pitch as Bronkheim poked her side from under the table. “Fuck off, Bronkheim!”
“Language!” Charlotte’s voice was more shocked than angry. Coco clamped a hand over her mouth, staring daggers at Bronkheim who sat laughing, taking another swig from his drink. Shuffling a little closer to Nia, Coco scooped her cider up with her. “You’ve had too much to drink.”
Bronkheim shrugged and pointed with his foot to the barrels and the pile of wood shavings that were discarded between them. “That’s what you get Coco, you can’t start carving in the middle of a pub.” After a pause, he looked back at Coco apologetically. “Sorry about that, but we made a deal, right?”
Coco nodded and flicked her eyes to the table. “Yeah, we made a deal.”
“Anyway, you two were discussing Coco’s resonance. Anything else?” Charlotte looked back at Nia as she asked, taking a slow sip from a recently refilled glass of wine.
“Not really, I got caught up on talking about it. It’s really cool, I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Charlotte smiled, but looked off into the corner of the room. Bronkheim gave her a quizzical stare for a moment before he stoked the conversation. “So, what exactly does your resonance do then? Is it some kind of strength enhancement? It was hard to see what you were doing from the bleachers.”
As soon as the question left his mouth, Nia took off like a rocket. “It’s called Gravity Well! I figured out the basics for it when I was a kid, just before Sil took me in. Basically, it lets me change the direction and force that gravity takes when it affects an object that I touch. I can’t do it too many times in a day, but it’s good for throwing things really far or restraining people. Sil says it’ll be great for capture and rescue missions, the biggest thing I’ve been able to move so far has been an old tow truck, but I want to get it to a point where I can move things like collapsed walls. Honestly, I’d love to go back to the start and remake it from scratch, I feel like I could be way more efficient with it, but I’m kind of comfortable with it now, it feels like wearing an old glove.”
A confused smile was plastered across Bronkheim’s face as he struggled to follow up with the stream of information flowing out of Nia. Just as she started to fly into stories about her experiments with using her resonance on water, Coco put a hand on her shoulder. Nia stopped talking, looking over at her in confusion for a second, before the woodworker spoke.
“Usually, when you’re in public, you shouldn’t go into specifics about the weaknesses of your resonance, okay? You never know whose listening. Its fine to talk about the good stuff, but keep the rest under wraps.” Nia grimaced, but quickly replaced it with a pensive nod. “Good point.”
Across the table from them, Charlotte started to laugh. Looking over at Nia, she tilted her head and squinted. “You’re just like an old friend of mine.”
“Who?” Nia tilted her head the other way, narrow her eyes in a mirrored confusion.
“Franz Marigold. He joined at a similar time to Whiskey and I, just after Dusk. You’re just very alike in how excited you get about tuning.” Charlotte smiled, pausing for a beat before continuing. “More than that, he was quite the prodigy, just like you. He took to tuning so naturally, we all used to call him the ‘next Ashara.’”
“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to call myself the next Ashara.” Nia raised her palms in a mock surrender. “But I won’t stop you guys from saying so, either.” She snickered a little and watched Bronkheim and Coco echo her laughter. Charlotte let the moment pass with a soft smile on her face before she softly tapped the table.
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“Well, be careful, nothing kills more prodigies than overconfidence.” Her eyes fell slightly as she said it. Nia’s laughter fell into an early grave as she craned her head forward and spoke in a more hushed tone. “What happened to Franz? If you don’t mind my asking?”
Charlotte’s gaze returned to the corner of the room for a moment as she carefully pieced over her words. When she spoke, she did so with care. “He was working with Dusk on a case regarding the flow of Indraknot into Ancerbridge. Unfortunately, he passed away during a sting orchestrated by another tuner on the Silverwatch who had broken bad.”
Why had Sil never told Nia about this? She knotted her features together in concern. “How long ago was this?”
“A couple of years back.” Bronkheim answered the question for Charlotte, patting her hand as she nodded. “I had only been here for like, half a year, so I didn’t know Franz that well. He was amazing, though. He taught me like half of the tricks I know with my resonance.” There was a reverence in Bronkheim’s voice as he spoke. Nia looked over to Coco, who shrugged. “Never met him.”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought him up, I always get a little misty-eyed thinking about him.” Charlotte swept a tear off of her cheek and smiled. “I hope you take it as a compliment, Nia, despite the tears. Franz had a brilliant mind for this sort of thing, it seems like you do too.”
Nia nodded gratefully, then the penny dropped. Sitting for a moment in stunned silence, she looked back at Charlotte cautiously. “Can I ask you a question about Franz?”
“Of course you can, dear.” Charlotte took a sip of her wine as she waited. It was Nia’s turn to word her response carefully.
“Dusk’s casefile on his attempted arrest of Chelone Vellichi, it mentioned two deaths, but the names were redacted… Were those two missions the same?” She had first read the case file in Sil’s office while he was out getting them food, the broad strokes had remained fresh in Nia’s mind ever since, but so many details had been blacked-out. Even more frustratingly, it had been one of the few areas that Sil refused to discuss openly with her. ‘Not my story to tell,’ he’d say, no matter how much or how often she asked.
“Yes, they were. Franz, Whiskey and I got our first stars together. While Whiskey and I went to work under Michelle, Franz started partnering with Dusk. They worked on pretty much everything together. Well, nearly everything.” Charlotte didn’t meet Nia’s eyes, her gaze was focused squarely on the surface of the wine that gently rolled within her glass as she traced it in small circles over the table top.
“I see, that explains a lot, thank you.” Nia had more questions, a lot more, but she figured that now wasn’t the best time to ask them.
“Yeah, it explains why Dusk is such a hard arse.” Bronkheim muttered into the top of his drink, dragging a snort of laughter out of Coco.
“Language.” Charlotte absentmindedly chastised him. For a moment, the four sat in an awkward silence. Bronkheim looked pensively into his stout, as though he expected some ancient treasure to emerge from the foam at its top. Coco quietly took a finished bird out of her pocket and studied it, tracing her thumb over the edge of its wing.
The drop in conversational tempo was saved, however, as a waiter gracefully declined the stairs with two wide trays, each adorned with a plate of food. Balancing one, half on the table and half against his hip, he divvied the plates up between each person. A mixed grill for Bronkheim, a chicken burger for Nia, chips for Coco and a scampi for Charlotte. Coco dove in immediately, pinching a chip before –
“Coco, we have knives and forks.” Charlotte smirked at Coco as she passed the girl a set of utensils. “You would think you’d be more keen to use a knife to eat with, I can hardly pry yours off of you any other time.”
Coco rolled her eyes and accepted the cutlery, spearing the chip on a fork and digging in. “Yes, Granny.”
Bronkheim snorted again as he cut into his steak, but his smile faded once he took a bite into it. Chewing the food over, he swallowed it and shook his head. “Too much butter in the pan, and they overcooked it…” Taking out a notepad and paper, he went to take notes, then bucked against the table as Coco kicked him in the shin. “Ow!”
Coco shrugged and smiled as she bit into her food. “You started critiquing the food, no complaints.”
Nia looked between them in confusion, then at Charlotte who had pre-emptively lifted her glass off of the table. The older woman shook her head softly. “They have a silly deal. Bronkheim can poke Coco if she ever leaves wood shavings out in public, and Coco can kick Bronkheim if he ever takes one bite of food and starts criticising it.”
“Ahh, I get it.” Nia nodded and took a bite out of her burger. It was pretty decent, not the best food she’d ever had but she was happy to eat out for once. She’d been living off of box pasta for weeks since Sil left.
“What’s your bad habit, Nia?” Bronkheim asked as he scraped some mash onto his fork alongside a bit of chopped sausage. “I figure everyone’s got one, so, if you’re comfortable sharing…?”
Nia paused for a moment in contemplation. Her worst habit? Sil used to complain about her staying up into the middle of the night, but she stopped doing that a few years ago… What else? “I don’t really think I have any terrible habits to be honest with you.”
Bronkheim nodded and chuckled, as he finished chewing his food, pausing for a beat to swallow it. “Oh yeah?”
“Do you ask everyone this question?” Nia puzzled.
“Yeah man, it’s a good ice breaker, it tells you how open someone is, how self-reflective they are, and sometimes people have really surprising bad habits, so we can take the piss out of them about it later.”
“Like who?” A small smile was growing on Nia’s face.
“Michelle, definitely Michelle.” An even larger grin swept over Bronkheim. “He never remembers to turn the radio off in his car, so anytime we walk through the carpark we can hear his tapes playing. It’s always this really tacky, hairspray pop music.” Bronkheim wagged his fork through the air as he spoke, like he was a conductor. Nia smiled and pushed her tongue into her cheek. “I can’t wait to meet him.”
“He’s class.” Bronkheim nodded as he dove back into his food. “Better company than Dusk, that’s for sure.”
“Be nice.” Charlotte flicked her eyes to Bronkheim as he carefully sliced the fat off of his steak. “He’s been through a lot.”
“You weren’t exactly being nice to him earlier.” Bronkheim parried, matching Charlotte’s stare. “You know he was out of order back there. He could have kicked Essie’s face in.”
Nia narrowed her eyes in confusion when Bronkheim spoke. Essie? She had heard Whiskey call her that, but it surprised her to hear Bronkheim say the same. “Are you two close?”
“I shadow Whiskey, so we’ve spent a good bit of time together while she’s been training for the exams and the practical. You know Dusk better than me, Charlotte, but I’m calling it how I see it. He’s been getting even more closed off over the last few months, it’s poor form.”
Charlotte nodded, waiting for him to take a bite of his food. “It’s getting to the two-year anniversary of what happened with Luka, Bronkheim. Try to be patient with him, I’m sure he’ll turn around once he puts the day behind him.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t –“ Bronkheim started speaking, but Charlotte cut him off. “No, it doesn’t excuse it. I’m sorry for interrupting you, and you’re absolutely right. Dusk was in the wrong today, my temper got the better of me, but we both should have been more mature. The fact that I picked a fight with him does not mean that I was in the right to do so.”
Bronkheim shrugged it off, turning back to his food. Coco was already half way through her chips. Nia was slowing down and savouring the last few bites. She had worked up an appetite after her fight with Ashara, but the drag from eating a big meal was catching up to her.
“So, Nia, who do you think you’ll work under once you join the watch?” Charlotte steered the conversation once again, picking slowly at her food as she waited on a response.
“I have no idea, honestly. I kind of assumed that I’d just work under Sil, but I’m starting to think that I should go with someone else.” One-star and two-star tuners in the Silverwatch had to work under a third-star until they were deemed responsible enough to take on missions by themselves. Before, Nia only knew of Sil and Whiskey but, as she thought about the kind of missions she wanted to take on, another path was becoming more appealing to her. “I think Dusk, or maybe Whiskey? I honestly have no idea right now.”
“Well, do you prefer working in the day or working at night?” Bronkheim’s question came as a half-laugh, but he narrowed his eyes and watched Nia carefully as he waited for her to respond.
Nia woke up pretty early in the day most days, usually staying up until just after midnight. The concept of staying out in the rain until dawn each night didn’t exactly appeal to her, but Dusk presented an opportunity she wasn’t keen to pass on. Thinking over it for a few seconds, she gave up. “I don’t really know yet, I’ll wait and talk to both of them before I make a decision.”
“That is the best way to do it.” Charlotte nodded. “There was only Michelle and Dusk for Whiskey, Franz and I to work under when we joined, you have lots of options now, take your time and pick through them carefully.” Sipping the last of her drink, she looked down at her carefully cleaned plate, then to Nia and Coco who had finished their food. Only Bronkheim was left eating, savouring the last third of his plate.
“So, Nia, what are you doing with the rest of your day?” Bronkheim spoke between mouthfuls of food. “Do you have any other plans?”
“Not really.” Nia hummed into the top of her bottle.
“What about you two?” Bronkheim nodded towards the three-star tuner and her companion.
“We’re going to the Strait to pick up a dress of mine that needed tailoring, then we have a meeting with the chief of police about a recent case that we were working on in The Slouch.” Charlotte looked to Coco, confirming that the younger woman was accompanying her with requited nods.
“What kind of case?” Nia’s interest was piqued once again. The Slouch was a large area on the outskirts of Ancerbridge, near the warehouses and railways. She remembered Sil telling her about the waterways out there, which had fallen into disrepair after a Vellichi Cargo train fell off of the tracks and into a rail-side dam. Sil never took missions in The Slouch, no matter how profitable or how seemingly important they were. Whenever Nia had asked him, he always told her that he was “better at dealing with men than dogs.”
“We got reports of a pair of young adults who had been sighted using rudimentary resonances in a street war, so we went to ask around. Our initial investigation came up quite short though, didn’t it Coco?” Charlotte looked over at her partner, who nodded thoughtfully.
“Yeah, but they’ve obviously copped up again, we got a radio message from the police this morning about it.” Coco fished her rifle out from underneath the table, running her hand over the stock of her rifle as she spoke. She stopped for a second, hitting a course point, then turned the gun over and studied the abrasion for a moment. Stowing the rifle back under the table, she tutted under her breath but shelved the issue for later.
Nia made a double take at the large gun as it crested above the table, but before she could ask about it, Coco started speaking again. “What about you, Bronk?” She looked up from her weapon to the man. “Catching up with Whiskey?”
“Nah I’ve got a day off today; I’m going to White Dove for a few hours then I’m gonna batch cook my meals for the rest of the week.” Gently scraping the remaining fat from his grill to the side, he picked at the last few pieces of food then set his knife and fork down.
“White dove? Is that the clothing store?” Nia asked as she tried to picture Bronkheim trying on dresses. Coco and Charlotte choked out laughs as the man’s face contorted in confusion.
“No! It’s the soup kitchen on the outside of The Slouch. We make food for the folks out there.”
“You’re thinking of Snow Bird, Nia.” Charlotte corrected the girl, laughing into the back of her hand.
“Bah, same difference.” Nia joined in the laughter, flicking both hands through the air dismissively. “So: Bronkheim’s shopping for dresses, you two are going to the Strait then to the Slouch, I need to think of something more interesting to do with my day.”
“Honestly, I’d just go get some rest Nia.” Bronkheim stacked the plates and bowls in the centre of the table as he spoke. “You’re gonna have interesting days every day starting like, four days from now? Take it easy.” Nia hummed in tacit acknowledgement, but before she could speak again Charlotte stood up.
“Right then, you two have been delightful company, we should all do this again very soon. That being said, it’s about –“ Charlotte checked a little watch on the inside of her wrist. “— One o’clock now, and we had really ought to be getting on.”
Coco slid off of the booth, shouldering her rifle. Nia shook her head for a second as a sudden wave of confusion hit her. “Coco, do you bring that rifle with you everywhere? I’m surprised they let you take have that in here.”
“I have my PWL, same as Charlotte.” Coco reached into the inside pocket of her jacket as she nodded to the sword on Charlotte’s hip. The PWL was a public weapons license. Nia had remembered Sil getting uppity over being denied one for a Cannaran shot-gun he brought home with him from a mission. “Oh, awesome! How long did it take you to get it for a rifle that large?”
Nia nodded to the gun, which was nearly as tall as Coco herself. The ginger scrunched her face in thought for a second before looking to Charlotte.
“It took her 7 months; we started on the paper as soon as she got her first star.” Charlotte wasn’t looking at either of them as she spoke, fishing through her bag and pulling out a small roll of bank notes. She gave a warm smile to Bronkheim and Nia. “This is my treat today, you two have been great fun. Are you leaving with us?”
Bronkheim nodded as he stood up. “Thanks, Charlotte, I’ll get it next time?”
“That sounds sterling, Bronkheim.” Charlotte nodded, then looked to Nia. “And you?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m gonna head off, I think. Thank you so much for paying, Charlotte, I’ll have to pick up a bill here for us after Bronkheim.” She grinned as she slipped off of the booths cushioned seats.
One by one, the four tuners climbed the rickety stairs out of the cellar of Murphy’s. Bronkheim stooped low to avoid smacking his head on the beams above, while Charlotte walked over to the counter and paid the bill.
Nia winced at the bright light as she stepped onto the street outside. Ancerbridge was almost completely different at day to how it was at night. Every day was completely cloudless, nothing more than a slightly warm breeze faded down the path along the canal opposite the pub. The cobble paths usually dried up from the previous night’s rain by noontime, and the city had finally overcome its morning inertia. Each night, thick fog and heavy rains drew In and battered the city, coating it in a sheen of water, ready for the next day.
Walking up a long flight of stone stairs that rested in the shadowy gap between two old buildings, Nia could hear the chugging of motors as they spluttered along the street at the top. As the group reached the top, they came to an early parting of ways. Charlotte and Coco immediately started walking north, up the streets towards the Vellichi Lift. Bronkheim stopped them for a second as he nodded down the street, indicating his diverging course. For a moment, the group reconvened.
“Great hanging out with you two, as always.” Bronkheim smiled, bumping knuckles with Coco and shaking hands with Charlotte. “And you, Nia, obviously.” The two shared another high-five. Bronkheim waved as he turned to leave. While many would vanish nearly immediately into the crowds of people on the street, Bronkheim stood a full head above most of the people around him. They could probably track him until he turned a corner and left their line of sight.
“As always, Bronkheim. Same time next week!” Charlotte called after him as he left, smiling once she saw him raise a thumb, then turned her attention to Nia. “And you? I hope you’ll come and join us again; we can celebrate your first-star together.”
Nia vigorously nodded her head. “Sounds great, yeah.”
“We’re heading off too, Nia, have a lovely rest of your day.” Charlotte gave a polite curtsey, while Coco offered a silent nod of respect.
“See you later, guys!” Nia’s smile creased slightly as she walked away from the two. Back to her own company. She crossed the street and followed the canal back to the Silverwatch car park. A short, slow and quiet drive home, pestered by the crawling traffic of a city at noon, saw Nia parking in the bottom of Sil’s apartment complex with a thin line of sweat on her brow.
The climb back up to the flat was an equally boring affair. Nia was turning over her time with the other tuners in her head, dreading the sight of the empty flat. Turning the corridor, she stopped to find a small, red gift box sat in front of the door. A paper tag with her name on it was taped to its face, and she instantly recognised the handwriting as Sil’s. Scooping the box up and darting inside, she started tearing the paper off, pushing the door shut with her foot.
Inside the box were two cards which were stacked atop some carefully wrapped gift. On the first card were the words: “To Nia, if all goes well.” On the second: “To Nia, if it all goes to shit.” Sticking her tongue into her cheek, she muttered. “Fucking dickhead…” Opening the first letter, she sat at the table to read it.
The annoyed grin had faded into a soft, warm smile as she peeled apart the wrapping paper. Two bottles of red hair dye. Closing her eyes and looking away, she laughed over the tears. Ever since she had first seen someone with dyed hair, she had been pestering Sil to let her do the same. After a particularly fierce row, they made a bet. Sil would pay for any and all hair dye Nia needed, forever, if she passed her combat trial the first time around. She could have dyed her hair anytime earlier, especially with Sil gone for so long, but she had staved it off to keep their bet going.
“I guess I know what I’m doing with the rest of my day, then. Thanks, Sil.” She muttered cheerily, moving hastily for the dye she had bought in anticipation a week ago. Standing in the bathroom she began to read the instructions slowly, aware of her tendency to skip details when not taking care, when she heard a small noise deeper in the flat. Flipping the box she started to open the tab sealing it before freezing.
She had heard a noise.
She waited, whole body tense as deafening silence rung through her ears. After what felt like an hour, she slowly tilted her head up to let out a sigh. It had been a long day after all, her mind was playing tricks on her.
The unmistakable noise of her bedroom window clicking shut pierced the bathroom.
Someone else was here.
She fell into a low stance, stalking into the corridor and peering through the crack of the open door to her room. Nobody there.
Mustering an ounce of courage alongside a pound of adrenaline, she shoved the door open with her shoulder, hands at the ready.
The room was empty.
Noone at the window. Nothing out of the ordinary. No sign of a disturbance. Nia slowed her breathing, wondering what the hell just happened. Maybe her mind really was playing tricks on her. Forget the hair dye. She needed a long bath.
She turned to the door, only to come face to face with a silver dagger jutting out just besides the frame, a pale letter pinned beneath it's cold blade. Ink bled slightly down the page in cruel cursive text. Scanning it, Nia's adrenaline came rushing right back.
