Fritz wandered the markets with intent, leaving his team to the acquisition of the equipment Adam had listed for them. He had quickly concluded his assistance wasn't needed and he decided to make use of his time better, mostly by engaging stall keepers and market patrons in conversation. His goal was simple, find out more about what was happening in the Upper Ring and places even higher. It had cost him some time and some coin, buying a forgettable trinket here or there, to have his sometimes overly broad questions answered. But he soon discovered something of the political manoeuvring taking place in the city.

  Most of of what he heard wasn't of much use, being mostly the talk of where to find good prices for wares or all the complaints about the shortages of certain fabrics, wood and foods. The haul from the Spires was said to be thin this month, even with all the new Climbing teams from the recent Tolling, they couldn't keep up with the demands for lumber and mana-dense produce. Climber's wounds and deaths had also been more prevalent, though "that was to be expected, with tolling and all," one particularly callous clerk had commented.

  It was true that the influx newly tolled teams would come with more dead Climbers, inexperience invited injury and unpreparedness preceded peril.

  There was also the subject of the extension of the church grounds in the Upper Ring and the inclusion and raising of a temple in the Palace Ring.

  This new grand temple was to be dedicated to the Imperial Edict, the Empire's officially sanctioned interpretation of The Truth. Seemingly the construction had been a concession the King had made to appease the ever encroaching Empire. It was said there was to be another such concession in the future, the gossips were abuzz with the notion of a royal marriage. Perhaps the King would take a third wife, this one a Princess of the Empire or maybe one of his children would be made to marry in his stead to secure some ties forged of blood.

  There were also talk of the nobles splitting themselves into factions, that they sought the kings approval for more privileges and protections. Though that was always the case, they were constantly seeking to increase their on power and standing, fighting in the court for any advantage.

  While those rumours of the higher political seas were interesting, they weren't what Fritz was looking for. Those tides weren't something he could affect, nor did they have much bearing on his current circumstances. No, what he was searching for was far more local, petty even. He needed scandals and secrets, or some way to leverage what privileges he did have to protect himself, his team and his family from those two nobles he and Lauren had slighted.

  Fritz investigated further, he talked to all sorts in his search for something he could use as a shield. He spent most of the afternoon inveigling and ingratiating himself with the patrons of extravagant salons, the exclusive gentlemen's clubs and some of the higher-brow taverns. Fritz was more successful than he thought he would be. His signet ring had allowed him entrance to many such establishments and he found that the reappearance of the Hightide name had gone far from unnoticed.

  Though it was a minor ripple in the greater scheme of things it seemed the nobility paid attention to even those odd occurrences within their small circles. Fritz didn't have to do much to get them to speak with him despite his low standing, as it turned out they found him something of a mystery, one both intriguing and warranting at least a few words to sate their curiosity.

  Apparently, both the nobles and wealthy had little better to do than eat, drink, laugh and idle themselves away with games or speech. All while speculating on the potential scandals and going-ons of their peers.

  Despite their obfuscated insults, derisive dismissals and the constant condescension, Fritz was polite, conjuring all the charm he had been imparted with as he hid his instinctual disdain and fermenting frustrations. Perhaps it was Adams's own proclaimed disgust that heightened his awareness of their indolence and frivolity, or maybe it was his time in the gutters and the scraping for survival that did so, but he found himself hating them further with each passing hour.

  While he asked and answered benign questions, mostly ones of intentions or the extent of his family's wealth, he seeded the conversations with inquiries that were more pertinent to his situation. He learned something of Lloyd Whiteship, the duke's son, finding out some particularly interesting passions, peculiarities and predilections. Of the other, Charles, who Fritz found was the Countess Vane's son, there was no such useful information. His reputation was one of mediocrity and irrepressible tediousness.

  That was to be expected as his mother the Countess herself was one of Treasury's managers and accountants. A brilliant woman in her own right when it came to numbers and ledgers, but a bore when it came to parties and pleasures. Or so the other nobles remarked behind her back.

  "In fact, I was surprised the boy was gifted with the Merfolk Strain. His mother will be proud, if no one else will be," one older Merfolk noble professed. His grey scales gleamed softly as he swirled the wine in his tall, crystal glass. He had a face that was consonantly curled in mild disgust, although that may have just been because Fritz had been invited to this gathering by another of the party.

  The Lady Noonsea had seen him, found him delightful and had brought him back with her when he had described himself as a recently minted Silver Climber who managed the Mer Spire without a Guide. That particular cover story seemed to pique the interest of many a noble, being not a boast one would make lightly, nor so outlandish as a Golden Climb that could easily be dismissed out of hand as a profoundly foolish fabrication.

  They sat on overly stuffed chairs around a low, wooden table in a Salon by the name of the Silver Shine. Quiet refined voices rolled through the large room, the sound broken only by the occasional loud chuckle or the clinking of fine glass. Fritz was beside the Lady. The woman was approaching fifty and somewhat resembled an anglerfish. Her dark dress revealed too much scaled-bosom to be strictly proper and there was a dim, yellow light in her slightly bulging eyes.

  "You are well informed Lord. They only just exited the Spire with the Prince, or so I heard," Fritz said, walking the like between flattering and fawning, ignoring the stare the Lady assaulted him with. "Did the Duke's son also receive this gift?"

  "Yes. And there will be a celebration at his estates, not this night, but the coming one," the man said. "If only I could celebrate along with them, alas my own progeny could not stand to Climb more than three Floors and was not blessed with the Strain our family has earned for centuries."

  His eyes slid over his daughter, disappointed. She was sitting on the other side of Fritz, and he felt as if he were a flanked beast, hunted, aware of the ambush, yet waiting for his foes to strike.

  "Oh, father. You know I can Climb it some other time," she protested, treating the comment as a jest. "Did you really expect me to Golden Climb with what little you allowed me to take? Didn't you have at least double the Treasures I had? That's what grandmother said."

  It seemed she had hit a sore spot, because the Lord shook his head dismissively, huffed out an annoyed breath and stood, walking over to another table, leaving alone Fritz between the mother and daughter. Though he was glad to be rid of the man's arrogant presence, he felt further trapped as both women moved their chairs closer to his.

  "So sensitive," The Lady remarked. "Still, Dear you shouldn't taunt him so. And another thing, he's right that if you do not succeed in gaining your Strain your marriageability will wane."

  "Oh, no, I'll have to wed but a Lord," the daughter mockingly lamented. "Or a human," she added with a sly smile.

  "If you continue to fail, you may well be," The Lady said, then she thought for a moment before turning to Fritz. "Say, your house is on the rise, is it not? Lord Hightide."

  "I suspect so," Fritz allowed, not liking where the conversation was heading.

  "How do you like my daughter? Yvonne. Does her appearance please you?"

  Fritz glanced to the younger woman and she fluttered her long eyelashes at him. Her face and frame were reminiscent of her mother's, if decidedly human. Though her nose had taken more to the shape of her father's, both proud and strong. She was moderately pretty but something about the glutton's gleam in her deep, teal eyes soured any appeal she had.

  "If not, you can just think of the prestige a union of our houses could bring. An aspiring young Lord like yourself could use the backing of an older more established house, could you not?" The Lady asked, seemingly noticing his slight frown.

  "It could," Fritz agreed, knowing that the support of the House of Noonsea was nothing to scoff at.

  He had learned that although they weren't Barons, Counts or Dukes, they ranked high among their betters due to their wealth and savvy political postures. They were also noted as ambitious, not at climbing the ranks of nobility, but at accruing land and businesses. It was said they they had interests in at least a ninth of the stores in the Thoroughfare Markets, and rumoured that it was as high as a sixth.

  "What better way to seal such an agreement than a marriage to my daughter?" The Lady said sweetly. Too sweetly.

  "Mother!" Yvonne, cried, blushing and worrying at the lacy collar of her silver dress.

  "I'm afraid I can't speak for marriage, as there is still no head of house to authorise such a joining. Beneficial though it may be," Fritz stated amiably.

  "Is your petition still pending the King's approval?" Lady Noonsea asked.

  "It's not even sent, I still need the approval of three noble witnesses," Fritz said.

  "Is that so? Perhaps I could help with that small trouble?" The Lady offered.

  "I dare not ask for such a favour," Fritz said obsequiously.

  "Nonsense, all you would have to do is consider my proposal, or rather my daughters," She said, delighting at her own wordplay.

  "Mother!" The daughter protested again, though she didn't seem too averse to the prospect and was seemingly putting on the act for proprieties sake. She slid her chair closer and rested a soft hand on his thigh, squeezing slightly.

  "And if the situation changes," the Lady said, hinting at her daughter's possible Merfolk transformation. "You could always assist in another, less significant, way."

  The Lady waited for a response as Fritz weighed his options and ignored the distraction of the daughter. Lady Noonsea wasn't asking for a true promise, and he knew all talks of marriage would be off if the Yvonne managed to attain the Merfolk strain. Though it still felt like he was signing away a part of his freedom and future. And something else akin to pride.

  Internally he chided himself, he was already almost a slave to the Nightshark, what was this small favour, a gamble more than an oath, compared to the chains 'she' put on him? Fritz decided this was a stroke of luck. As he had little idea of which nobles to court for such favours in the first place, or when he would be able to make any such deals. And the cost was mere consideration, he could do that much, even if it was abrupt.

  He also had a feeling that the 'less significant assistance' would be what was called upon and that was the Lady's true aim. A small favour from a potential rising power with no real price was a good political investment.

  Fritz nodded, agreeing, and soon the document that proclaimed him head of house Hightide had its first signature and a bright, orange seal upon its surface. It was a small victory unlooked for, though the trade left a bitter taste in his mouth.

  He had only just put the paper away in its scroll case when another nobleman approached the table, likely a Count, judging by the Lady's fawning. He, thankfully, stole away her attentions, leading her away from the table and towards a private room hidden behind pink curtains. There were sparks of red spinning between the two, and Fritz made an effort the remember the man's face.

  "Have another glass of wine, Lord Hightide," the Lady's daughter entreated, stirring him from his thoughts. She seemed completely unfazed despite the haste and transactionary nature of their agreement.

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  Giddily and giggly, she slid even closer and their shoulders met. Fritz smiled and took another of the glasses. Yvonne leant closer as he did so and she whispered in his ear something about getting a head start in their 'arrangement' as her hand slid further up his thigh. He smoothly declined, returning her hand to her own lap and the conversation to small talk and gossip.

  Although she pouted, Yvonne didn't seem to mind all too much, in fact, she loved to speak ill of others in the peerage. Once he broached the subject she could talk on endlessly about their failings and faults. He tried to constrain their talk within bounds that were useful to him, but soon he found his head spinning from all the names and indignities the woman described.

  Still, there was the task Craig Cutter had set him, so he endured her falsely scandalised tones and asked what she knew of the Baron Coldwind. Some knowledge about the man whose house he was to pillage would be a boon. Maybe there was a more circumspect way of completing the job, without having to sneak into the estate at night? What she told him was only mildly useful, but felt he had discovered the reason he was to be sending a message.

  Baron Coldwind was allied with a faction led by Duke Whiteship, who was attempting to petition the King for more autonomy and privileges for the Storm Guard, who the nobles had authority over. They also desired that they be allowed to raise more Storm Guard, releasing the restriction the King had placed on their numbers. Apparently, they felt that the Drizzlers were too ineffective in the districts, that crime was rampant and needed to be rooted out. The dismal state of the Sunken Ring was affecting the rents and the mercantile opportunities the nobility were due.

  A push into the districts with an army of drizzlers would not suit the Nightshark's aims, not at all.

  "And do you know what else?" Yvonne asked leaning close. "They say that the Duke believes in the Nightshark."

  "No?" Fritz asked aghast.

  "Yes," she said giggling and laying a ring-laden hand on his chest. "What a fool. Though he would say that after he was robbed. Quite the embarrassment. He swears it was the work of some dark mastermind that stole all his and his wife's jewellery, and blames this mythical Nightshark. It's preposterous really. He's just trying to save face for being a lousy Duke who can't protect his own estate, or, as I hear of late, his own ships."

  "Preposterous indeed," Fritz agreed, drinking down the last sip of a glass of white wine. It was too sweet for his taste. He started to stand. "Alas, I must take my leave. I have duties to attend."

  The smile fell from Yvonne's face and she stood with him, then grasped his hand.

  "This was nice, will I see you again soon?"

  Fritz hesitated and her face fell further, it seemed she really did enjoy his company. Or maybe she just liked some one who listened.

  "I'll try and make some time to call on you," he assuaged. "I can't promise anything. I have my tutor running me ragged at the moment, but you should see me by at least next week."

  "Oh! Splendid," she exclaimed, dropping his hand. "It was truly a delight to meet you."

  Fritz bowed. "Likewise," he lied.

  He turned and left, having had his fill of gossip and rumour and too-sweet wine. He made his way back to the heart of the markets and searched for his crew.

  Hours had passed since he had left them, but with some application of his Awareness Fritz was able to find his team, doing the last bit of purchasing they needed to.

  They had found what they had needed, weights, training equipment and clothing more suitable to the tough training they were to receive. Surprisingly Cal and Lauren had also made some progress in finding a steady supplier of monster meat, though it was only possible due to the mention of Fritz's esteemed title.

  "Where were you?" Cal groused, hefting not one but two heavy packs.

  "Gathering information in exclusive establishments," Fritz espoused, puffing out his chest arrogantly.

  "Drinking and hobnobbing with nobles, more like," Bert grumbled.

  "A man can do both," Fritz declared. "And this man tries to enjoy it despite your commoner's scorn."

  "Have we got everything we need?" Lauren asked pointedly.

  "Yes," Cal said. "Apart from remedies, weapons and armour. But we're better off getting them in the Sunken Ring."

  "Alight then. Let us return," she said striding homeward.

  The team followed.

  ---

  When the packs were unloaded and everything was set in it right place, Cal approached Fritz as he was placing the raider's scaled scroll case in a leather bag. Cal had an awkward air around him and Fritz could guess why.

  "Did you want to come to the negotiation too?" He asked.

  "Too? Who else is going?"

  "It will be just Lauren and I, at the moment. The others are going to order some armour," Fritz provided.

  "Oh, okay. Why is she going?"

  "To inspect the current quality of the tonics and remedies the sisters already concoct. Making sure that they're worth 'investing' in. And not 'some back-alley apothecaries that sell eel oil for every ailment, profiteering off the ignorant and desperate,'" Fritz quoted.

  "They're not scammers, the tonic they gave me worked," Cal said defensively.

  "I know, but Lauren insisted. That, and I trust her mercantile senses far more than my own," Fritz said.

  Cal nodded. "She does know her money."

  "That I do," Lauren said, from the top of the vault room stairs. "And I don't want to waste all our hard-earned wealth on a couple of charlatans."

  "They're not charlatans," Cal argued.

  "And how would you know? You're too easily fooled by a pretty smile and slightly too high skirt," Lauren scoffed.

  "Fooled me into thinking you're kindhearted," Cal grumbled under his breath.

  "Exactly," Lauren said. "And I'm not even trying."

  Cal winced, he hadn't meant for her to hear and he looked to Fritz for help.

  Fritz smiled at the both of them.

  "We can let the goods speak for themselves. Shall we be away?"

  ---

  In the Desperate District the rain was heavy and the street was flooded up to his ankles. Fritz stood out amongst the crowd of milling commoners. Even though he had changed out of his refined attire and was wearing linens, the cleanliness and clear colouring marked him as an outsider. They didn't call him lord, nor did they get in his way, but he attracted many dark looks, some of envy and others of bitterness.

  He ignored the stares and mutters and caught a young pickpocket's hand as the child ran past. They were quick, but not quick enough to steal from an expert of the art such as himself. He let the kid off with a warning not to go stealing from someone who could be a Climber, and upon noting the malnourished thinness of the child's arms, he slid a silver into the kid's pocket without them noticing.

  Then he let them go. They ran without a word of thanks, racing all too close to the overflowing gutters.

  Fritz watched the retreating back for a couple of moments and sighed. He had been that same starving child once, and it felt like it hadn't even been that long ago.

  "Awfully lenient," Lauren commented.

  "You think I should have beat them?" Fritz asked.

  "Maybe," She allowed. "Would teach them the way of the world. Stop them from committing more crime and becoming blights on the city."

  Cal nodded, agreeing. "Sometimes you gotta get hurt before it really gets through to you. I would know."

  Fritz scowled inwardly, wondering why he felt such disgust at their words.

  It was likely the optimistic musings of 'the observations' that had taken root in his Sanctum that made him feel so. Between its descriptions of drills and strategy it attempted at philosophy, one that described an individual's or a group of individuals' resistance to great powers. It said that change came through actions and opposition to unjust outcomes and that no matter how the world was now, it could be changed and there was a better tomorrow. If you tried to build it.

  A small ripple ran over his Sanctum, something close to learning a Technique, but not quite as intense. The soft vibration was gone in a moment as soon as he acknowledged the resonance.

  "What's wrong?" Cal asked.

  Fritz realised he was standing still, then said, "One moment, I have to inspect my Sanctum."

  "Here?" Lauren asked.

  "Now?" Cal followed.

  Fritz grimaced, they were right, they were in the street and it could wait. The fleeting feeling had already fled and he didn't think it was anything as impactful as raising a Technique's mastery.

  "Nevermind, I can do it later," Fritz said, resuming his stride.

  Soon they found their way deeper into the district and into the small market where Naomi and her sister, Ame, sold their wares.

  Currently, the stall was watched by the younger of the two sisters, and she smiled as she caught sight of Fritz. It was a sheepish expression, one that had a hint of wariness that tripled when Lauren came into her vision.

  Fritz smiled, approached the table and bowed shallowly in greeting. "Naomi, good to see you."

  "You too, Fritz," Naomi replied, glancing between him and Lauren with some frustration.

  They stood before the arrayed jars, filled as they were with powders, herbs or pastes. Lauren noticed the slight glare she was receiving and raised an eyebrow.

  "Did I offend you?" She asked.

  "Uh, no," Naomi replied.

  "You look familiar. Where have we met?" Lauren asked.

  "You don't remember?" Naomi asked.

  Lauren's cheeks reddened slightly. "You're not that waitress are you?"

  "What?" Naomi said.

  "Wait. No, you couldn't be. She was blonde," Lauren said, sighing with relief.

  "You did make a pass at me though," Naomi reminded her.

  "Did I?" Lauren asked, looking the woman over sceptically.

  The dark bags under her eyes and drab clothes weren't doing Naomi any favours, but a gleam of recognition eventually entered Lauren's gaze.

  "Oh, right. Well, I apologise for my past forwardness," Lauren said. "It was unbecoming."

  "Alright. No harm," Naomi said shrugging. "I doubt you came just to visit, so what do you need?"

  "We come with a proposition for you and your sister, but we can't speak of it here," Fritz stated.

  "What is it?" Naomi asked warily.

  Fritz looked around himself in an exaggerated manner and pulsed his Awareness. He felt the eyes of at least one bird upon his back so he lowered his voice to a whisper and leant in close.

  "We have some recipes you may be interested in."

  She shivered slightly.

  "Really? What kind? Alchemy?" Naomi asked softly.

  "We can discuss that somewhere more quiet, out of the streets where anyone could hear," Fritz said, straightening.

  "Oh, sure," Naomi said, beginning to collect the remedies splayed on the stall and place them in a bag below the table.

  "First I need to check the quality," Lauren said. "Can you show me what you usually sell?"

  Naomi frowned, glancing to Fritz, who nodded.

  With a small huff, she began showing the wares and explaining their uses as she packed them away. Soon Lauren was content that Naomi and her sister were competent.

  "This healing grease is particularly smooth," Lauren observed. "Uncommonly so."

  "Uh, yes," Naomi hedged. "We're good at that one, as well as other lotions that reduce chafing."

  Lauren nodded appreciatively.

  "Alright, I'm convinced that these aren't false remedies and you're not fraudsters," Lauren said. "Lead the way."

  "Thanks," Naomi said, unenthused at the praise. She turned and let them follow her into the building behind the stall.

  It was a small place, with a ladder leading up to a loft that likely served as their bedroom and a hatch that led down into a damp cellar from which Fritz could hear the bubbling of a cauldron, and smell the pungent scents of what he assumed to be alchemy and its required reagents.

  "One moment," Naomi said, before descending down the hatch.

  "Odd that this place has a cellar that isn't flooded," Lauren said.

  Fritz shrugged. "Sometimes you can find rooms with well sealed walls or old water warding runes."

  There were some whispers from below and soon they were joined by both sisters. Ame removed her heavy leather apron and then gloves of the same make, hanging them on a hook on the wall before turning to them with a smile.

  "Fritz, Cal, wonderful to see you both," she said, smiling warmly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

  "I'm afraid it's business, not pleasure we've come to discuss," Fritz said with a sly smile.

  "Wait, you make it all here?" Lauren asked incredulously, eyeing the woman's stained skirt.

  "What?" Ame asked, blinking prettily.

  "You make all those well-mixed remedies in this... decrepitude?"

  "Yes," Ame said. "Where else would we make them?"

  "In a laboratory," Lauren said seriously.

  Ame laughed softly while Naomi rolled her eyes.

  "We have nothing of the sort here, we just make do," Ame said.

  Lauren tilted her head, evaluating the alchemist, then smiled.

  "I love your hair," she said. "What do you use to make it shine so?"

  "A secret recipe," Ame said, smiling back mischievously.

  Cal looked on perplexed at the sudden change in subject, and Fritz coughed, then said, "Speaking of secret recipes, we have a proposition for you."

  "Oh?" Ame asked, eyes expectant.

  Fritz pulsed his Awareness again, and this time the impression of being spied upon was not present so he dared to open his satchel and hand the raider's scroll case to the woman.

  She opened it with a small pop and pulled free one of the scrolls within. Her eye darted from top to bottom and her brow furrowed slightly. As she read more her expression darkened.

  "This is a poison," she said, and her voice came out hard. "I don't make poisons."

  "I'm not asking you to, there's more than just poisons in there," Fritz said quickly. "There are all sorts of remedies and tonics. Just check the next scroll."

  She did. Unfortunately, that one also turned out to be a poison. Fritz smiled weakly and motioned for her to try again. The third scroll was the one that contained the recipe for the little brown pills that increased and recovered Stamina for a short time, then drained you terribly after the potent, elating effects ended.

  "This is hardly better," Ame said. "A powerful stimulant, but basically a toxin."

  Again she pulled another scroll free. This one at least, caught her keen interest and complete approval, her face lighting with wonder.

  "A Stamina Potion recipe," she said almost reverently. "Amazing."

  "Really?" Naomi asked eagerly.

  Ame nodded, but as she read further her face fell.

  "What's wrong?" Naomi asked.

  "The brewing and refining methods are ones foreign to me," she replied. "I can't even begin to make what's on this page."

  "The methods are there, on the other scrolls," Lauren explained. "They're alien to me, though I do believe this set of scrolls is a Technique when taken as a whole."

  Ame looked up, staring at them sharply. "A Technique? Are you serious?"

  "Deadly serious," Fritz said.

  "Do you have any idea what this is worth?" Ame asked bleakly.

  "A lot," Lauren said.

  "Then why are you bringing it to us?" Ame asked. "We can't afford it, just look where we live and work."

  "We thought we could strike a deal," Fritz said.

  "A deal as one-sided as that would leave us as slaves, I suspect," Ame said bitingly. "Normally I'd spit in your face for suggesting such a thing. But I know you well enough to know you didn't mean it like that, did you?"

  "I don't make slaves," Fritz said darkly.

  "Right," Cal agreed. "We don't mean it like that at all."

  Ame's face softened. "What do you want then?"

  "We want a solid source of alchemical goods at a discounted price," Lauren said. "With what I've seen you'll be a solid supplier. Of course, there would be some stipulations."

  "What sort of stipulations?"