Matabar Chapter 44 - Baliero

Elver, whose unimposing fra seed even slighter beneath his worn clothes, was nervously smoking a cigarette by his car. The vehicle — a battered old Derks model that must have been repaired countless tis — sported mismatched passenger doors, a dented front fender, and a crooked rear bumper. And yes, over the past month, Ardan had made an effort to learn the ins and outs of cars. This hulking machine, with its almost square cabin and exhaust pipe big enough to double as plumbing sowhere, was probably about eight years old. It had cost Elver a reasonable 650 exes and, unlike the luxurious models the wealthy drove, ca in only one basic configuration.

It had a top speed of just thirty kiloters per hour and an engine with around seven horsepower. Ardi still didn’t quite understand what that term actually ant — it seed to describe the force needed to lift a certain load straight up.

"Are you sure that, if it cos down to it…" Milomir said, waddling over with the elegance of an overfed house cat. He nudged the gray rim of one of the car’s tires with the tip of his shoe. "This old lady will hold up, Elver?"

"The main thing is that I’m sure," Lisa chid in as she sauntered past them. Gathering the hem of her dress, she opened the driver’s side door, slid in behind the wheel, and turned the ignition.

Imdiately, sothing under the hood roared awake, a sound reminiscent of a starving bear roused from winter’s deepest dark.

"Impressive," Milomir whistled, tipping his hat.

"Alright," Elver muttered, taking a final drag from his cigarette. With a casual toss that flew nearly seven ters, he flicked it straight into a trash can near the entrance to "Bruce’s." "Let’s go over it one more ti. Andrew…"

The young man, who was jittery and glancing over his shoulder, twisted his cap nervously in his hands. His gaze darted about like that of a rat trapped in a cage, and an unpleasant odor, sticky and sour like rotting berries in a swamp, clung to him.

"Andrew!" Elver called again.

The boy flinched, seemingly snapping back to reality. He tugged his cap down over his eyes, attempting to hide.

"Y-yes," he stamred.

"Explain the details to the newcor," Elver said, nodding at Ardan, whose height left Elver staring up at his chest.

"Of c-c-course," Andrew replied, still stamring.

"Of c-c-course," Elver mocked. "I swear, they’ll hire anyone these days..."

"Go on, dear Andrew," Milomir encouraged, his voice dripping with a syrupy sweetness.

Elver swore under his breath as a breeze stirred the hems of their coats and cloaks, sending them flapping. Above, the thin clouds thickened, casting a dark veil over the sparse pedestrians below.

"I… I work for the Guild of Mages and-" Andrew began.

"Yes, yes, we know that already," Elver interrupted. "Get to the point!"

"Elver," ca Lisa’s smooth, almost foxlike voice from inside the car. "Don’t be so hard on the boy."

Ardi was lost in thought, recalling a conversation he’d had with Arkar. So, the half-orc had been talking about Andrew…

"A… a-a month ago, I was going through so old files, and I f-found a report about a building slated for demolition. It was once of interest to the scientific community," Andrew explained, gradually finding his rhythm and losing the stutter. "The report ntioned an abandoned building on Fifth Street in Baliero."

Ardi rembered the map of the city — Baliero was about a half-hour drive away, located on one of the islands at the mouth of the Niewa River. Adjacent to the Central District, it had beco a haven for free spirits and intellectuals alike.

The area was known for its theaters, including a recently constructed cinema, whatever that was (half the newspaper headlines these days were about this "cinema"), as well as a host of bars, pubs, restaurants, and cafés. There were even a few museums there. Baliero was part of the Old City, the districts in the tropolis that had resisted high-rise developnts, maintaining their historic charm. Ardi, however, believed that it was called the Old City because it had been built on the ruins of the ancient capital of Gales.

"The building was supposed to go to so baron’s heir, but the man died at the Taian border about seventy years ago."

"In the rcenary War?" Milomir asked.

The rcenary War had been a major conflict between the Empire and a few foreign powers. It had been far more significant than the usual skirmishes on the Fatian or Armondian border. That war had led to the Empire’s most recent territorial expansion, with Taia losing the southwestern part of the peninsula, and their northeastern border inching within a hundred kiloters of the Taian capital.

The war, which lasted from 436 to 444 E.Y., was so nad because the Republic of Castilia had sent aid to Taia in the form of rcenaries comprised of Castilian natives and Ngian recruits, who’d arrived on Selkado’s ships. Combined, the losses of Taia, Castilia, and the rcenaries had reached over a million and a half lives in total, including civilian casualties. The Empire had lost about six hundred thousand, with around two hundred thousand of those being civilians.

Taia wasn’t fully conquered only due to an ultimatum from Castilia, Selkado, and the Confederation of Free Cities, whom they had bribed. They’d declared that if Ezmir, the Taian capital, fell, they would restrict the Empire’s access to the eastern continent’s shores.

Of course, the Empire would’ve still had the option of sailing through the Swallow Ocean, but Parnas, one of Ardi’s teachers, had said that that route was near non profitable due to various reasons.

"Precisely," Andrew confird, clearly emboldened. "The baron’s direct line ended with him, so, as per the law, the country waited half a century for any distant heirs to co forth, but none showed up. Eventually, the property passed to the city and was put up for auction. No one bought it over the next twenty years, so tomorrow morning, they’re demolishing it, and then the land will be transferred to the crown."

Ardi frowned.

"What’s bothering you, lamppost?" Elver asked.

"Are you talking to ?" Ardi replied.

"No, obviously, I’m talking to the lamppost," Elver snapped sarcastically.

"My na is Ard," the young man responded firmly.

"Oh, really?" Elver sneered, a smirk playing at his lips. "And my na is ’I don’t give a shit what you’re called, kid, because if I did, you’d drown in all of it.’"

"I always knew there was a lot of crap in you, Elver," ca a woman’s mocking laughter from inside the car.

Elver was about to respond, but Milomir intervened.

"Look, gentlen and lady, we’ll be in the sa boat for a few hours, at least," the older man said, not even raising an eyebrow. "Let’s try to act like even if we can’t stand each other, we at least don’t feel the need to tear each other’s throats out."

"Well, there aren’t that many beasts among us," Elver muttered, keeping his eyes on Ardan.

"So, mister mage," Milomir, ignoring Elver, turned to Ardi. "What don’t you understand?"

"I’m new to the tropolis," Ardi said slowly, "but isn’t land in the Old City incredibly valuable? Why didn’t anyone buy it at auction?"

"Because it’s infamous," Andrew replied, pulling a crumpled pack of cheap cigarettes from the pocket of his worn, unseasonably thin coat. People smoked a lot in the capital. "So much so that, fifty years ago, the city hired the Guild of Mages to place a shield around it, just to keep people from snooping. And that shield and its layout," he tapped his temple, "I morized it thoroughly."

Ardi didn’t imdiately understand why Andrew had morized the seal’s layout, but then, after seeing Elver’s expression, he caught on. If Andrew had had a blueprint of the seal, he himself would no longer be needed, and he’d have probably been paid much less.

"The demolition was supposed to happen four days ago, but sothing delayed the Senior Magister who was scheduled to deactivate the shield. They expect him tomorrow morning," Andrew added. "Today is the last day the land and the building officially belong to the city. By tomorrow morning, the land will be the crown’s property. But as long as the building stands, it legally still belongs to the city, even though the ti limit has expired. So, until tomorrow morning, the land and the building are technically unowned. Breaking into this property or dismantling the shield isn’t illegal since it currently belongs to no one… A little loophole in the law."

"And that’s where you co in, Mr. Ard," Milomir tipped his hat again, like he was greeting Ardan for the first ti. "Andrew will explain the rest as we drive, and you’ll break the shield."

"But why?" Ardi narrowed his eyes at them. "Arkar told my only task was to dismantle the shield of an abandoned building slated for demolition, one with no apparent value."

"Then just do as you were told, non-human," Elver spat on the ground.

"I’d like to see you be this brave inside ’Bruce’s,’" Lisa remarked coldly. "Or perhaps I wouldn’t, considering I might get the chance to see an idiot embedded in a wall."

Elver flashed her a rude gesture but fell silent. In that mont, his sleeve rode up, revealing a holster of throwing needles and a Tavser insignia on his wrist.

That explained everything. It was surprising, though, how Elver, with his political beliefs, could work alongside the half-orc Arkar.

"The building really isn’t valuable," Andrew said, pulling out another cigarette but quickly putting it back. "But in the records, I found information about the building’s previous owners. It turns out that it once belonged to the Vertah Order."

"The Vertah Order?" Ardan repeated.

"A local ghost story," Milomir explained. "They were a society of mages who studied the art of the Firstborn. So say they worshipped demons or tried to summon the Fae, or maybe they discovered so artifact from Makingia. All that’s really known about them is that the Second Chancery wiped them out. And there’s also-"

"Ti’s running short," Elver interrupted. "The bridges will be raised in thirty minutes."

And suddenly, Ardi understood why they had been standing by the car, chatting instead of driving to what Arkar had called "the job." Tonight marked the end of the river navigation season, and soon the bridges would be raised for the last ti.

Baliero was an island, and in thirty minutes, it would be cut off from the rest of the capital for an hour and a half.

"Everyone knows their tasks," Elver said firmly, his tone leaving no room for objections. "Ideal arrival ti: thirty minutes. And then ten minutes to break the shield."

"But I’m not sure if-"

"Ten. Minutes," Elver growled through gritted teeth, cutting Ardi off. "After that, we enter the building. We have forty minutes to search it. Then we go to the pier. A barge will be waiting at the fifth dock. From there, we sail to the Night Docks, then head back to ’Bruce’s.’ Anyone left behind is on their own. Understood?"

A ragged chorus of confirmations answered Elver, though it seed only Ardan wanted to ask, "forty minutes to search for what, exactly?"

"Then let’s get moving," Elver spat one last ti before circling the car to take the passenger seat next to Lisa.

Milomir climbed in, filling up the remaining space on the seat. Andrew and Ardan squeezed into the back. As soon as the doors closed, Lisa shifted gears and pressed the gas, guiding them down the street. Andrew took out a slip of paper and handed it to Ardan.

On it was a seal, not handwritten but almost certainly printed by a machine.

"Why-"

Ardan raised an eyebrow in confusion, but Andrew pressed a finger to his lips and nodded in Elver’s direction. Elver was deep in conversation with Lisa, discussing their approach to the building and their subsequent escape. Ardan understood imdiately — Andrew feared Elver might catch on. The boy had likely lied about morizing the seal and creating a rough sketch.

He must have been questioned beforehand, and he had only morized part of the blueprint to appease them. After all, anyone could morize, say, one of the sections of a seal with due diligence and a lot of free ti, even an untrained person.

Ardan nodded, flipping open his grimoire. Turning the pages, he focused on the seal’s intricate symbols and the lockpick patterns he’d recorded from the Stranger’s book. But as he examined the seal itself…

He coughed, feeling his chest tighten.

"Are you alright, mister mage?" Milomir asked, eyeing him through the rearview mirror.

"Yes… perfectly fine," Ardan replied, though his voice wavered slightly.

In front of him lay a drawing of so kind of monster. At first glance, it looked like there were eleven contours here, which was sothing that would only be talked about in the final courses of the Grand. The classification "multiple contours" seed to apply here, but if you looked closely, so of the contours were divided into sections, and those, in turn, looked like truncated, incomplete seals.

And all of this, like the classification "nested sections of seals," was not part of the courses taught at the Grand and belonged to the most complicated of science. This was the kind of thing that was taught only after one had been admitted to the Guild of Mages (although their lectures, where the Magisters were trained, were also held in the Grand, just in the main building, on the last few floors). And the number of runes, and their arrays as well... Just looking at all of it made his head spin.