5th Gemini, 1645

Veracity freezes at the top of the stairs leading underground, just as worried what she’s looking for at the bottom of them is there as she is that it isn’t. Rationally, she knows it would be foolish not to go down the steps after she’s come all this way, after she spent the last two and a half hours asking around town and following leads that went nowhere. Indeed, that’s all the more reason to simply get it over with: if she’s once again been sent chasing geese she can just get right back to looking, maybe after asking around down there, no big deal. On the other hand, if this “Hoyden” woman is down there, that means finally having to talk to her and make her pitch, and that twists Veracity’s stomach into knots no matter how much she reminds herself she prepared extensively. She casts about for any reasons to delay: adjusting the strap of her bag, her glasses, making sure her hair is secure in its bun, checking the bow around her shirt collar. When she runs out of excuses, she takes one last deep breath and pushes herself down and forward.

The space at the bottom of the stairs is less dingy than she would have expected, but almost exactly as loud. Shouts of demanding encouragement, jeers, gamblers yelling to be heard as they place bets with the bookies and screams of disappointment or triumph all crash and roll over one another as the gathered crowd watches the various rings. It occurs to Veracity how odd it is that the actual fights in an establishment such as this would contribute the least to the noise level, but she supposes it does make a certain amount of sense. Currently only two rings actually have fights going on in them, though it seems a third finished up just before Veracity came in. It’s not hard to figure out which one she wants to be paying attention to; In one ring the match is between two capricans, engaged in a fierce grapple and trying to put each other on the ground, while the other match is between another caprican and a nearthkin woman.

Everything about the nearthkin woman gives a sense of largeness. A broad, square jaw leads into a thick neck leads into wide, powerful shoulders lead into a barrel chest and tree-trunk arms. She has long, thick blond hair twisted together into a braid that reaches a bit past those shoulders, though the sides of her head are shaved down to a light fuzz. She’s tall, too, towering over her opponent (who, admittedly, is a bit on the shorter side himself) and keeping him on his toes with her long reach. Even covered in a sweat and bruises, her cocky smile seems to say to anyone and everyone watching “I’ll take you all on at once and win” with such self-assuredness that Veracity can’t help but believe it – though she must admit, her enormous muscles certainly help her case.

What doesn’t help her case, on the other hand, is the way her opponent is darting around, behind, and under her, dodging her attempts to hit him with apparent ease. His motions are fluid and graceful in comparison to hers (though she is by no means clumsy), and Veracity gets an impression of a serpent from the way he slips and slides around her, jabbing rapidly whenever he spots an opening. His blows individually seem to be bothering the woman very little, but even at a distance she can tell he’s hitting her hard and with as many hits as he makes she does seem to be feeling it.

Veracity furrows her brow – surely this woman can’t be who she’s looking for, can she? Hoyden is supposed to be a fierce fighter, a nigh-unstoppable force of nature said to have bested a half-dozen members of a duke’s personal guard with one hand tied behind her back, yet here someone who looks much like the description Veracity heard is being run circles around by one slightly scrawny looking man half her size in an underground fighting ring. She spots a bit of seating closer to the edge of the pit and pushes her way through the crowd, sitting heavily and slightly glumly to at least watch the rest of the match.

After one of Hoyden’s swings comes rather close to connecting with her opponent, he somersaults backwards away from her, landing light with his guard up. He takes a moment to catch his breath, shaking his hands out as he bounces on the balls of his feet. Hoyden, given this moment of respite, closes her eyes and takes one long, deep breath in before exhaling slowly. When she opens her eyes, something in her demeanor is almost imperceptibly different, so slight Veracity can’t even put her finger on it at first. She leans forward, intrigued, and as she wonders if anyone else in the crowd has noticed, she takes note of Hoyden’s eyes; though her expression remains largely unchanged, there’s a wild look in her eyes now, giving her grin an unhinged feeling to it.

Hoyden’s opponent doesn’t seem to realize anything is off, and that will prove to be his downfall. He shoots the other fighter a grin of his own and rushes back towards her, feinting in for a direct punch before leaping up and over her to hit her from behind. Or at least, that’s what he tries to do. What happens instead is one of Hoyden’s hands shoots up and grabs one of the man’s horns before using that grip to spike him into the ground. A cloud of dust is kicked up by his impact with the dirt floor of the small arena, and a wave of murmurs ripples through the crowd. The caprican recovers quickly, rolling away before Hoyden can hit him while he’s down even though she makes no visible attempt to do so. His movements are slower now, almost imperceptibly much like the shift in Hoyden a few moments ago, and he apprises his opponent with a new wariness. He darts off to the side, closing the distance between them as he does so before pushing himself off the ground, rolling under Hoyden, and-

With a speed astounding in someone her size, Hoyden spins and takes hold of the man’s horns again, with both hands this time. She rears her head back and slams it into his with a loud smack, sending him into the dirt for the second and final time. All of the capricae watching the fight and even some of the nearthkin and merfolk let out a sympathetic hiss and “oooh” – Veracity practically felt that one in her own horns. When the man doesn’t seem to be getting back up, the crowd starts a count, but Hoyden turns and holds her arms up triumphantly well before it reaches five. An announcer’s magically amplified voice cuts through the din.

“And that’s a sixth consecutive win for the braided wall! Let’s hear it for Hoyyyydeeeeeen!”

“Hoy-den! Hoy-den! Hoy-den! Hoy-den!” The crowd chants. Veracity can’t help but grin, caught up in the energy of the room around her, though she restrains herself from joining in.

She has a job to do, after all.

She stands and starts pushing her way through the crowd again, this time moving further into the basement, towards the “backstage” area where fighters wait for their bouts. To her surprise, the singular security guard watching over the area just gives her an indifferent scan with his eyes as she passes, evidently deeming her not to be a threat. She had expected needing to explain herself, to use the plan she’d devised for getting in to talk to Hoyden in private – not that she minds, of course, heavens no, it’s just… well, it seems a shame for a good bit of subterfuge to go to waste.

 It smells bad in the backstage. Veracity wrinkles her nose with a quiet “euch” the moment it hits her, and rifles through her bag for a sprig of dried lavender. She holds it up with a quiet “a-ha!”, crushes it between her palms, whistles into her cupped hands and holds the now-glowing powder up to her nose, taking a deep whiff. The relief is instant, drawing a quiet “aaah” from between her lips. She starts to look around the room, taking in the low benches, the lockers, and the few fighters in various states of beaten-upness and undress currently occupying the space when a throat clears behind her. She jumps with a quiet “eep!” and turns quickly, coming face to collarbone with Hoyden, who is leaning casually against the wall with that same cocky grin on her face, crazed eyes now calmed. Veracity hadn’t heard her come up on her at all.

“Hey there pretty lady,” Hoyden says, and her voice is rough and low and pleasant and feminine all at the same time and it does things to Veracity, wow, and oh gosh she really is tall, even taller than her, that doesn’t happen very often, she must be six and a half feet at least, “What’s a fancy-lookin’ gal like you doin’ in a place like this?”

“Ahhggrhgghgh” Veracity elocutes, finding it very hard to think about anything other than the giantess before her and her biceps and forearms and shoulders and easygoing grin and strikingly blue eyes, “Um. You.”

“Heh, well now,” Hoyden says, reaching a calloused hand up to play with a bit of detailing on Veracity’s dress shirt, “Can’t say I was expecting something so forward from you, Frills, but I guess looks can be deceiving.”

“Ah, no, that is to say I was looking for you. To proposition you. To make a proposition to you!” Veracity stumbles and stutters through her words, the amused look on Hoyden’s face not helping in the slightest, so she pauses to close her eyes and take a breath. “Let me start over. My name is Veracity J. Strent, and I’m here to offer you a job, Miss Hoyden.”

Hoyden’s eyes flick up to hers, studying them intently. Despite some of the warmth having left them and despite Hoyden straightening herself up off the wall and removing her hand from Veracity’s personal space it still makes her breath hitch.

“Why don’t you come sit with me for a minute,” Hoyden says, moving a bit deeper into the changing room to sit on a bench. After taking a bag out of a locker in front of it and digging around in it she pulls out a change of clothes and starts changing. Veracity turns around quickly so as not to let her physique distract her again.

“So what’s this job?”

This is it, Veracity thinks, here comes the pitch.

“Well, as I already told you my name is Veracity J. Strent. I’m a wizard by trade, though I also have some experience in archival and administrative work, which is how I came to be in the employ of a woman named Zhuan Chirita. She is an elderly adventurer herself, retired for the most part, and she has… a vision, you might say. Tell me something, Miss Hoyden: have you ever been cheated out of fair pay for your services as a freelancer?”

There’s a pregnant pause as Hoyden considers Veracity’s words.

“I mean, who hasn’t? Nobles and magnates and other rich folks are assholes, and I’ve never met an adventurer willing to pass up taking a job from one of ‘em if there’s even a chance we’ll get paid what we’re promised.”

“What if I were to tell you it didn’t have to be like that?”

Another pregnant pause. Veracity hears Hoyden stand, and, grinning, she turns back around despite herself. Fortunately Hoyden is dressed now, in a slightly loose tan shirt with long sleeves that contrasts with the sleeveless one she’d been wearing for her fight, allowing Veracity to focus a bit better on the inquisitive expression on her face. She takes it as an indication to keep going.

“What Miss Zhuan has in mind is a coalition of sorts, an organization of like-minded adventurers tired of being exploited by those who employ our services. By banding together, we shall have greater bargaining power when some egotistical duke or baron or what have you inevitably tries to stiff us. Moreover, working together with the same partners on a long-term basis would allow for the development of deeper bonds and, by extension, better cooperation during jobs.”

Hoyden is silent, staring at her appraisingly and it is clear to Veracity that she’s intrigued – interested, even, by the prospect. She opens her mouth, about to say something, then stops herself, instead opting to shift her jaw pensively. Veracity can’t even begin to guess what’s going on in her head, but she has a good feeling that she’s going to get the answer she wants from this one.

“…You serious?” Hoyden asks.

“Quite,” Veracity replies smugly, her lips drawing into another, much thinner smile.

“…I think you should meet my roommates.”

            *********

Hoyden’s apartment is close to the edge of town. After collecting her winnings for the day from an aggressively average looking individual annoyed she was leaving so early, Hoyden leads Veracity back above ground and out of the downscale part of Prostraadt. Admittedly, the area around the apartment building isn’t exactly upscale itself, but it’s a bit nicer by comparison at least. The metal staircase on the side of the building leading up to a slightly worn door is rusted and a little shaky, and for not the first time today Veracity regrets wearing even low heels.

The inside of Hoyden’s apartment is a stark contrast to the building’s grungy exterior. This is not to say that the interior is in excellent condition, because it most decidedly is not, but for the space having seen better days Hoyden and her roommates have done a remarkable job making it feel like a home. The front door leads into a clean and well kept, if sparsely furnished, space with numerous small light fixtures around the perimeter of the room as opposed to one central one or a few moderately sized lamps. Two doors sit opposite each other, each with a few of the fixtures concentrated around them to suggest a kind of highlighting. One leads into a hallway Veracity can’t see much of while the other leads into a kitchen, just as if not more spotless than the living room. A bookshelf sits on one wall with a mix of paperbacks and more heavily bound tomes while directly in front of the door is a coffee table and couch, upon which lounges a young woman.

She is nearthkin, like Hoyden, though her skin is darker and she is obviously smaller even in her reclining position. All of her clothing, from the loose robe covering the majority of her body to her leggings to the headscarf her hair is tucked away in and even her pair of large, silvery wire-frame glasses are grayscale. A long scar pulls the corner of her lips into a permanent semi-sneer which, in conjunction with her monochromatic wardrobe, gives her an air of austerity despite that her expression is perfectly neutral – she looks slightly bored, really. In her hands is a small but thick paperback with a scandalous illustration on the cover, best left undescribed. She doesn’t look up as the door opens and shuts, merely turns a page.

It is at that moment that a speckled noisehound comes padding in from the kitchen, largely indistinguishable from a more mundane dog save that its skin and muscle naturally peters off at its neck, leaving its skull on full display with eye sockets filled to the brim with gently crackling radio static that leaks ever so slightly from the two holes. The droplets break off the bottom of them and drift against gravity, dissipating into nothingness mid-air. A glass of water sits on top of its head, which the young woman grabs without looking, takes a sip from, and sets down on the floor next to the couch. The hound sits, folding its legs under itself, and with the same inattentive languor the reader reaches over to scratch between its ears, prompting some enthusiastic tail-wagging which creates a drumbeat against the floor. Hoyden must notice the look of bewilderment on Veracity’s face, because she chuckles.

“What’s the matter, Frills? Never seen a tame noisehound before?”

“Ah…” Veracity begins, then doesn’t finish once she realizes she has nothing to finish with.

“Don’t worry, he’s harmless – well, unless Isra tells him to be otherwise, anyway.”

“Right…”

“Who’s your friend this time, Hoyden?” Isra asks with the disinterest of a roommate entirely too used to overhearing one-night stands from the next room.

“Isra, this is Veracity. Veracity, this is Isra bint-Nasim al-Qarai. Make sure you remember that name, because most of the time she’s too lazy to say the whole thing herself.”

“Mm,” Isra grunts with the mild irritation of someone who’s too lazy to make a proper rebuttal.

“You know if P’s around?” Hoyden asks. Veracity jumps when a sudden crash like a pile of metal collapsing on itself sounds from another room on the opposite side of a wall, followed by a few rapid footsteps before another nearthkin girl appears in the door to the hall.

“Someone call for me? Oh! Hello,” she says to Veracity with a little wave and a smile once she spots her. She is small, standing a good foot shorter than Veracity (and a foot and a half shorter than Hoyden) and lean in the way of someone who is not starved but occasionally forgets to eat. She has short, unruly black hair which appears to be uneven due to… frequent singeing? Numerous piercings dot her ears, silver studs and rings standing out against the dark brown of her skin, with another ring situated near the end of one of her bushy eyebrows. Below that a pair of industrial goggles whose thick lenses are pure black make her eyes inscrutable, but this strange little woman wears her emotions plainly enough on the rest of her face that the effect actually adds to her charm. She wears dark olive overalls and a pair of heavy, dirty work gloves that reek of machinery.

“Ah… hello,” Veracity says, holding out a hand to shake and grimacing when the machinist takes it with her gloves still on.

“My name’s Peekie – or well, that’s what everyone calls me, at least, it’s really more of a nickname but I’m pretty fond of it myself so I just tell everyone new I meet to call me it too, and I meet a lot of people working as a machinist around the city, stuff breaks all over the place all the time and I’m one of the best at fixing it,” Peekie says, in one breath as far as Veracity can tell.

“Anyway, Isra,” Hoyden leans towards the woman on the couch for emphasis, “Veracity here is looking to offer us a job.”

“Wait, for real?” Peekie asks in surprise, and this even manages to catch Isra’s attention as she lays the book open on her chest and looks inquisitively in the direction of the rest of the room.

“Well, she was really only looking for me, but I figure she’d probably be interested in taking you aboard too,” Hoyden grins, then turns to Veracity, “Isra here is the best beast tamer I've ever met and a damn good sigilist, and Peekie is the smartest person I know when it comes to making weapons and other gear. Why don’t you tell them what you told me, Frills?”

“Ah… yes, right,” she clears her throat, “I am here as a representative of a veteran adventurer looking to organize other adventurers into a collective to increase our bargaining capabilities against any powerful individual or organization that would back out of contracts after we fulfill our ends of them. To put it shortly and simply, after decades of exploitation she is tired of the wealthy being able to do as they please, and sees this as a means of fighting back without instituting a full-scale revolutionary uprising.”

“That…” a look of awe is spreading across Peekie’s face, “That sounds amazing! When can we start?!”

“Hold it,” Isra says, shifting into a more upright position and fixing a stern gaze on Veracity, “I have more than a few questions. What’s your ‘employers’ name? And where’s this ‘collective’ going to operate out of?”

“Zhuan Chirita and Wurzelort, respectively,” Veracity answers with practiced ease, “I shouldn’t be surprised if you’ve never heard of it, it’s a smaller city in the northeast of the Listrean region, mostly known for lumber trade and a few local delicacies, and even then not by many.”

“How many people have you recruited so far?”

“Ah, well…” Veracity practiced for this as well, though the suspicion in Isra’s tone withers her a bit, “You… that is to say, Miss Hoyden is the most promising lead I’ve followed up on thus far, in terms of her reaction to our offer. And, since I am aware that neither she nor either of you has actually agreed to anything yet, the only current members of the union are myself, my employer, and two other women who are… admittedly not much for adventuring themselves but are nonetheless invaluable assets.”

“Uh-huh,” Isra is clearly unimpressed, “And-“

A knock at the apartment door interrupts whatever Isra was about to say next, heavy and insistent, followed by the shouting voice of a very angry man.

“Rajatali! We know you’re in there you little shit!”

Peekie lets out a small “Eep!” and ducks back into the hallway, peeking around the corner and the door which shakes slightly with each pound. Hoyden rolls her eyes and goes to answer, and Peekie retreats fully to the other room.

“Heyyyy, Trench,” she says with forced enthusiasm to the burly man at the top of the stairs beyond. His ruddy, scowling face and slightly oily mutton chops are at odds with the veneer of respectability provided by the fitted charcoal-colored suit he wears – or at least, they would be were Veracity not all too familiar with the sort of thing such veneers tended to conceal. Doubtless this man had been forced into his current outfit by a wealthy employer attempting to make their hired muscle seem less like thugs and more like an oddly tough butler or whatever. Veracity mentally rolls her eyes – who do those dipshits ever think they’re fooling?

“Don’t you ‘Heyyyy Trench’ me, Hoyden, I’m not here for a social visit and you damn well know it! Where’s Rajatali?” He demands, casting his gaze about as much as he can with Hoyden’s bulk blocking the entrance rather thoroughly.

“Ahh, you know, you must’ve just missed her, rough luck buddy,” Hoyden starts to close the door and the man called Trench forces his foot in, just barely keeping her from doing so.

Hoyden starts to say something else when a loud crack sounds from the next room, followed closely by a startled yelp from Peekie, a shout of “got her boss!” and then two more loud cracks. After the third crack another man in a suit, this one kind of scrawny with his hair in a bun, appears behind Trench with Peekie held in place next to him by a vice-like grip on her arm. Trench flashes a shit-eating grin at Hoyden and pulls hard on the door, slamming it shut before a cacophony of footsteps against aged metal indicates he and the other man are bounding down the stairs, Peekie in tow. Veracity’s mouth hangs open.

“Gh… are you fucking kidding me?!” Hoyden shouts after a moment taken to register the occurrence, and as she wrenches open the door to bound down the stairs after the three of them Isra also jumps into action, hastily shoving her feet into a pair of surprisingly colorful orange slippers and whistling sharply to get the attention of her hound. Isra slides down the railing on the side, utterly unconcerned about the fact that the railing is even more rickety than the staircase itself. Veracity gapes for a moment, sputtering, then shakes herself into action, following the two at a comparatively slow pace and digging a dried mushroom and a piece of quartz out of her bag as she goes.

When she gets to the edge of the building she sees Hoyden and Isra standing a little ways into the street, facing down Trench and four other people including the man with the bun about ten yards away. Two of them wear featureless masks and dark cloaks, and the final one bears a club as tall as she is that looks more like a bit of raw timber than an actual weapon.

“Come on Trench, we both know how this ends!” Hoyden calls out to Trench, more exasperated than angry, “Let Peekie go and I won’t break all your fingers this time!”

“You’re not gonna break any of my fingers either way, Hoyden! There’s more of us than there are of you!”

“Oh, so you’re feeling confident now? That why you’re all the way over there?”

“Look, Duke Filligree just wants Peekie to work for him a bit to work off the damage that machine of hers caused, this doesn’t have to be this hard!”

“Oh my god, how many times do I have to remind everyone that I TOLD him not to run it for more than three hours at a time? I very explicitly said it would explode! Not my fault that that’s exactly what ha- mmph!” Peekie’s shouting is interrupted by manbun putting his palm over her mouth, though his face immediately contorts into an expression of disgust when she starts licking it.

“Fuckin’…” Hoyden places her hands on her hips and sighs, then mutters more to herself than any of the other people present, “I try to be reasonable…”

Hoyden closes her eyes and breathes in deep, her hands turning over into an open-palmed chamber position, still by her hips. Isra makes a vocaliszation somewhere between a bark and an approximation of a hunting horn, and her hound answers with a low flute sound and starts advancing towards the group.

“Oh, not gonna happen!” Trench shouts as he signals to his masked comrades, who take off at a sprint towards Hoyden. He then pulls out a revolver and takes a quick shot at the noisehound that flies wide.

Hoyden’s eyes open and she dodges an onslaught of dagger swipes from one of the two cloaks, preventing her from entering a battle trance as she did earlier. Even from a distance Veracity can tell that this opponent is slower and less coordinated than the caprican she had fought in the ring, but Cloak Number Two is backing them up with projectile ice shards. Their combined efforts are enough to force Hoyden onto the defensive, disallowing any sort of counterattack.

Another gunshot draws Veracity’s attention back towards Trench, whose shots Isra’s hound dodges handily as it closes the distance between them. The closer the hound gets to Trench, however, the closer the blasts of magic from his revolver come to hitting it. She sees Isra quickly draw a sigil in the air which turns into an almost blindingly bright rift and a falcon emerges, screeching bloody murder as it flies toward Trench. He shouts in alarm and draws a short sword, slashing about wildly in a desperate attempt to keep the two animals at bay. Though the falcon stops short of the sword’s range, but the hound maneuvered under it to finish closing and bite savagely into his calf. Trench cries out in pain, brings the pommel down on its back, and promptly falls to the ground when it lets him go. He starts to scramble backward and the hound snarls like a tambourine, slowly padding forward.

Hoyden, meanwhile, holds her own. She has a couple bright red but shallow gashes in places, but seems only slightly slower than before. Veracity figures those two wouldn’t stand a chance under normal circumstances, but after six fights earlier that day she’s obviously not in peak condition, and Veracity finds herself marveling that she’s even as agile as she is currently. Cloak One seems to be toying with her slightly, quickly and tauntingly stepping in and out of her reach as Cloak Two hesitates, holding a shard of ice at the ready but not launching. Veracity is struck suddenly by the possibility that the two cloaks aren’t very well coordinated with one another, that Cloak Two is watching for a chance to hit Hoyden without running the risk of hitting their associate. She takes a cautious step forward, hugging the wall of the building, but Cloak Two seems too focused on the others to take notice. With a quick incantation and a clap she launches a focused concussive blast at them, and by the time they look over towards the noise they’re on the ground, unconscious.

Easy.

Veracity looks back towards Trench and manbun, who apparently decide at that moment that pissing off their employer would be better for their health than seeing this fight through. Manbun shoves Peekie forward, who struggles to catch her balance for a moment before tripping and faceplanting, then helps Trench hobble off. The noisehound lets them leave after a sharp whistle from Isra – though the falcon gives chase briefly, harassing them loudly – and the two of them both rush to Peekie’s side. Another thought occurs to Veracity just then: where did lumber club go?

She almost doesn’t notice the bit of motion out of the corner of her eye as the woman with the lumber club swings it down at her, but she’s able to turn and throw the quartz up between them just in time. It sparkles in mid-air, expanding into a wall of solid light, and the club bounces off with a deep, resonant boing. When she instinctively takes a step back her heel hits a cobblestone wrong and she falls, the wall dissipating as she does. Lumber club raises her weapon again, a vicious grin on her face as she prepares to slam it into Veracity’s skull, but she doesn’t get the chance. Cloak One comes flying in from the side, slamming into her and sending them both sprawling on the ground. Veracity looks in the direction they came from and sees Hoyden, breathing hard and obviously just having thrown them.

“You good, Frills?”

Veracity nods shakily. Hoyden slumps slightly, hands on her knees, and then laughs long and hard.

“Ohhh, man,” Hoyden wipes a tear from her eye when she finally rights herself again, then continues in a mocking tone of voice, “’There’s more of us than there are of you!’ Fat lot of good that does when you can’t work together, dipshit.”

“Thanks for saving me, everyone,” Peekie says as she hobbles over, favoring one foot over the other. She has a nosebleed and a slight scrape on one cheek but otherwise seems fine. Hoyden ruffles her hair.

“’Course, P.”

“Hey… Veracity, was it? How soon would we be able to start?”

Everyone looks at Isra in surprise over the question, but her face remains neutral under this new scrutiny. It takes Veracity a moment to stop gaping and voice her confusion.

“I… As soon as you can be ready to leave but… Apologies, Miss Isra, I’m just surprised after how opposed you seemed to the idea only a few minutes ago.”

“Well,” she sighs, “I’m still not wild on this whole thing but after that scrap just now we should probably get outta town before the good Duke sends more idiots after us, and your Union offers A) a good job opportunity for picking things up elsewhere and B) a bit more protection if he decides he’s so pissed that he wants to hunt us down.”

“Yeah, that makes sense… sorry guys…” Peekie looks dejected, but Hoyden pulls her into a side-hug.

“Don’t worry about it, I was getting sick of this town anyway.”

“…Right. Well, if you’re certain then we’d be delighted to have you, especially after that little taste of what you can do just now.”

“Mhm. I just have one more question.”

“What’s that?”

“You got a name for this organization of yours?”

Veracity grins, relishing the opportunity to say this out loud for the first time to someone other than Miss Zhuan, and answers-

Sappholopod

Oh, hello! My name is Iosefka Athena Lilith Aisling Lovelace von Omen, and this is my first attempt towards putting something out in the world like this. I hope you all enjoyed chapter one. I also hope you didn't get too attached to any of these characters juuuust yet, because none of them will be in the second chapter! Don't worry, we'll definitely be seeing lots more of them, just not immediately.

This chapter, in addition to introducing the world, premise, and overall story introduces The Braid, The Academic, The Inventor and The Beastmistress. Chapter Two will introduce The Artisan, The Caretaker, and The Starchild. Get hyped!