“Found your guy,” Evalyn announced, taking the bloodied towels to the laundry.

“What guy?” Marie called from the couch, her voice battling the radio set's volume.

“The kid with the brass knuckles.”

“You found him?”

“Yeah,” Evalyn said, returning from the laundry empty-handed. “I’m going to need you to organise a coverup, by the way.”

“What happened? What were the towels for?”

“We ran into more of Vesmos’s men. Small wounds, nothing serious,” she answered, walking to her bedroom.

“Where’d they catch you?” Marie said, jogging for Evalyn’s home office and the secure-wire telephone resting on the desk.

“They caught him while he was at our office. No witnesses got away, or at least I’m hoping.”

“That’s just great,” Marie sighed, dialling her first phone call of the evening. “How many calls do I need to make?”

“Metro Police, Intelligence Bureau and the Council reception while you’re at it.”

“Council reception? What for?”

“He wants an audience by tomorrow. He’s got valuable intel and he wants it in exchange for political asylum.”

“Political asylum…,” Marie trailed. “The hell would he want that for?”

Evalyn appeared in the office doorway once more. “Let’s just say…hot potato. Anyway, once you’re done, come with me to the Aetherologist.” She flashed the brass knuckles at Marie, her brain unable to keep up with the rate at which things weren’t being explained.

 

Two tram rides later, Evalyn and Marie arrived at their destination. A wholly unassuming building sandwiched between two apartment blocks in Excala’s East. Save for a few reservations made three years prior, the building had been left to its own devices. Peeling paint and boarded windows did not make for a flattering first impression. A late-night train rumbled overhead as Evalyn pushed open the door.

'East Excala Great Library,' they called it, a name that was not a holdover of its golden age in the slightest. Rather, its caretakers had not bothered with their storefront in years.

Every wooden surface from the floor to the bookshelves to the rafters gleamed with a healthy brown hue. A fireplace blazed in the front reading room’s hearth like the building’s beating heart. Its arteries took form in armchairs, couches, cushions and carpets.

Evalyn had countless memories over her decade in Excala of the place. If not related to her checkups, it was of getting lost in the bookcase-laden rooms and archives that seemed to encompass all heaven and earth. Candlelight illuminated sparingly, never allowing for a complete sense of time and place. With every visit, Evalyn discovered new nooks and crannies despite the librarians claiming they were nothing new.

Evalyn and Marie ignored the burning hearth, headed for the Spiral staircases on either side and ascended to the library’s centre; a reception lobby disappointingly similar to its more ordinary contemporaries.

The reception desk was vacant—not unbelievable for such a time at night. Evalyn immediately got to slamming on the call bell.

“Hello?” she yelled into the infinite space.

“Quit it with the bell!” a faint voice yapped from the reception desk. Marie and Evalyn looked down in time to catch the topmost drawer open by itself. A blue Spirit, about the size of two apples, hauled itself out of the drawer and onto the table. It was blue; the same blue as the Queen, yet it took the shape of a deformed owl—head too big, wings too small and a tail for good measure.

“Evalyn, take the damn bell if you like smacking it so much.”

“I only like the bell because it lets me mess with you, Tony. Where’s Al?”

“Al’s on vacation,” the library's co-founder spat, eyes still peeling open.

“No, he’s not. Great Library wouldn’t be so great without a Spacehopper Dragon in-house.”

“And your stuffy apartment wouldn’t connect to a dream cottage without one, so shut your mouth and leave the man alone. What can I help you with?”

Evalyn extracted the weapons from her pocket and placed them on the desk. “I want someone to take a look at these. Is anyone still working?”

“Crikey,” Tony muttered, transfixed by the weapons, “the hell did you get these things?”

“Off a kid from Vesmos, says he was military.”

“That sure makes sense,” he said, eyes examining the magic in a way impossible even to Evalyn, let alone Marie. “I’ll get Frenquin on it. That boy has no clue that workdays are supposed to end, Frenquin! Get over here!”

Evalyn heard a muted reply precede the appearance of a mousey-looking Beak in a white lab coat. He caught her eye, then descended one of the many staircases emerging from god knows where. The Aetherologists of the Great Library seemed to have bearings on the place in ways Evalyn could never aspire to mimic.

“Mrs. Hardridge!” Dr Frenquin exclaimed. “Nice to see you. Is this about the girl?”

“No, this isn’t about Iris.”

“Ah,” his voice box crackled, “how is she doing? It’s been quite a while since I gave her an initial examination.”

“She's been doing splendid, but we’ve been quite busy recently. I’m here to get magic removed from an item.”

As Frenquin shuffled over, he removed a loupe from the front pocket of his lab coat. Bringing it to the left eyehole of his mask, he inspected the items.

“My god…bring these up to my office,” he said, pocketing the loupe and ascending back the way he came. Tony took the liberty of hitching a ride on Evalyn’s shoulder as they followed.

His ‘office’ resembled more a forest glade than a room defined by four walls; a small vacancy that so happened to appear in the library’s labyrinthine design. He cleared his desk of papers and gadgetry and directed Evalyn to place the weapons down.

He then disappeared behind a bookcase. When he returned, he wheeled in front of him an instrument of Aetherology as tall as he was. A series of interconnected looking glasses, all fastened precariously to a web of brass supports. Each wound around the other and formed a complete, if not messy, disc.

He centred the spider eyes against the desk and stood behind it, observing the weapons through the many lenses and countless new perspectives.

He beckoned the rest of the party closer, and they all joined him behind the machine. The lenses had created one coherent picture, painting the magic Evalyn could only sense in defined streaks of vibrant colour. Greens, blues, yellows, reds. Eight colours in total circulated from one ring to another in a perfect, interconnected, never-ending circuit.

“There are eight different magical signatures,” Frenquin started. “They relate to one another, judging by first glance.”

“What does it all do?” Marie asked.

“I can recognise three or four here, but they’re all subdivisions of replication magic. Here, that crystal on the left-hand handles the replication of Aether pulling, and that is the replication of magical triggers and contracts.”

“Put together eight of them in such a way,” Tony continued, “and you’d get a pretty good recreation of true replication magic.”

Aether pulling, triggers and contracts. It made sense why Iris had noted Alis’s hair dissipating despite his body being entirely human.

“What’s the verdict?” Marie asked, pressing the Aetherologists for an answer. “How do I report this?”

“We’re just scientists, we’ve got no clue,” Frenquin said, still enamoured by the sight before him.

“Call the most important person you can get your hands on,” Tony recommended. “In fact, it might be worthwhile getting the Queen on it.”

“You think I can do that whenever I want?” Marie scoffed.

“You can’t, but I can,” Tony mused, hopping onto Marie’s shoulder “Chop chop, let’s move.”

Marie looked to Evalyn, pleading for answers she had pleaded for all evening, but Evalyn shrugged. “He’s not wrong. I’ll finish up here, so you talk to Her Majesty.”

Defeated, Marie followed the Spirit’s directions, and Evalyn returned to the task at hand.

“Now, inside all of this, there should be something infused with tracking magic,” she explained, diving into her pocket once more. “It should be connected to this ring.”

Frenquin took the ring and looked over it in his hand. He walked around to the other side of the machine, shifting the brass knuckles out of the centre and placing the ring beside them. Evalyn watched as a faint line formed from the weapons to the ring, overshadowed by the crystals.

“It’s very faint,” Frenquin observed, “done in such a way that most Spirits can’t sense it, let alone yourself. Is this what you want to have removed?”

“Yes. Even without all the rings, getting rid of the magic here is nipping it in the bud, correct?”

“You’re not wrong. It does not seem to be infused too deep into the structure of things. It's more like an afterthought to a completed weapon, like the serial number on a firearm or a bullet.”

“Can you get it done by morning?” Evalyn asked.

“If done carefully, yes, but could I make a recommendation?”

Evalyn furrowed her brow, not used to the meek Aetherologist doing much more than observing and infusing. “Go ahead.”

“I would say these weapons are extremely potent, to the point I don’t even trust our own government to keep them safe.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Give me more time, perhaps until midday, and I’ll replace the tracking magic with one of my own designs. Keep the ring, and you’ll have a direct leash and collar on it at all times.”

Evalyn thought, albeit not for very long. Unless she could sign a contract, she rarely involved herself with governmental matters, and for good reason. Yet Alis was not someone she was ready to take her eye off just yet.

A powerful individual with valuable information, a stick of dynamite in the form of a preteen boy. Legal involvement or not, the hot potato had walked into her office requesting her help and her help in particular. A wannabe warrior type still enamoured by the illusion of a world with order.

And then there was the fact that Iris was likely warming up to him.

“Yes, that’s a smart idea.”

Frenquin nodded and moved to disappear once more into the bookshelf-lined great expanse.

“Doctor,” Evalyn called out after him, “could you do me a favour?”

 

“I’ve never seen one of Amestris’s children outside government offices,” Elvera mumbled as she strode through the library.

“Well, we don’t get many choices. It’s either live in her forest like monkeys, make yourself useful in the military, or become a bureaucrat, god forbid. Me though,” he rasped, ruffling his featherless wings, “got this post early. Only needed one director at the East EGL, so it was first come, first serve. Left here.”

“So, how far up the line are you?” Elvera asked, following the direction. “The highest I’ve met is three hundred and twelfth.”

“Oh I know him—right, thanks—he’s with the spooks, ain’t he?”

“R.I.B., yes.”

“Poor fella. I’m first, though.”

“First?!”

Elvera’s body entered an involuntary spasm, not exactly sure how to submit her long overdue respect.

“Yep. Prince of the Kingdom, flesh and blood. Well, not blood.”

Elvera silenced herself with the clearing of her throat and chose to keep walking as unabated as possible. They were in a confined hallway, although she could not be sure if the bookcases were pressed up against walls or were the walls themselves. The only sense of space allotted to her was the low ceiling above their heads.

“Door on your right,” Tony said, and Elvera followed his lead, opening the door into a spacious room. The structure broadened into a twilit theatre filled with rows of upward-facing seats.

“The hell is a planetarium doing in here?” she said, observing the recreation of Excala City’s unique perspective of the night sky. In a small corner of the Library, what had been lost with the advent of light pollution had enjoyed a faithful reconstruction. Elvera assumed it used the same magic as Excala Station’s ceilings but to a level of detail umatched by a glorified schedule.

“Department of Astronomical Research used to hole up in the library along with most other sciences. Aetherology is the only one left nowadays,” Tony explained. He took a moment to observe the array of fake stars and planets before floating off Elvera’s shoulder. The slow flapping of his tiny wings did little to justify his flight by any law of physics, but he reached a lectern nearby lectern nonetheless.

“The Queen ordered the construction of a portal somewhere in the building back then, but it wouldn't fit anywhere. The star boys suggested building a planetarium for their studies, and in return, the portal would be set up in it.”

Elvera heard a familiar clunk sound from somewhere indistinct in the room. Steam whistled as panels in the night sky’s canvas dislodged and swung open, revealing copper wires conducting a magical buzz that sizzled the air. It was a portal to the Queen’s forest, much like the one on the Steel Whale, albeit orders of magnitude larger. It was not for subjects to enter, but instead for her to rear her head wherever she pleased.

The blue ring tore apart the room’s air, following the contours of the planetarium as it connected the limited space with the infinite of the forest.

Moments later, Her Majesty made her appearance.

Elvera bowed instinctively upon the arrival of the iconic antlers, the same she wore on her right sleeve almost every day of her life.

“Lieutenant-General, to what do I owe the pleasure,” the Queen announced. Her voice boomed in silence as her face remained frozen, statuesque.

“Your Majesty, there’s been a development that your Prince deems worthy of your attention.”

The Queen’s eyes narrowed, turning to Prince Tony, first in line to the throne.

“Hi Ma, long time no see. Still talking in days of the week, are we?”

She ignored him, returning to face Elvera.

“As much as my firstborn and his lack of Thursdays displease me, I do trust his judgement. What is it? Is it about the girl?”

“No, albeit she is entwined in the matter, sire. A military asset has defected from Vesmos and is asking for political asylum. He claims the possession of valuable intelligence.”

“And? What of it?”

Elvera stumbled for a moment, but the Queen did not falter. “Your Majesty, we are talking about the Vesmos Empire.”

“As so far as they do not threaten our borders, any action we take that can be interpreted as a threat to their national security is a step closer to war. I would much sooner see this asset executed or returned to the Empire so he may meet a fate befitting of a defector.”

The Queen extended her head forward until her otherworldly figure exhausted Elvera's vision. “Matters of intelligence, espionage and other methods of destabilisation must be conducted covertly. Else, I fear there is no point to it whatsoever.”

Elvera stepped backwards, the sound of her boots as inconsequential as she was in the face of Queen Amestris. Reverence. Respect. Citizen or not, she had an aura that one could sense even without sensitivity to magic.

But Elvera had a standing, one that the Queen herself had awarded her. Giving in now, even to Her Majesty, was an insult to that display of trust. She cleared her throat once more, this time steeling herself for the role she had fought to play.

“I agree with you, ma’am, and under normal circumstances, I may have considered such actions. Yet the boy has surrendered weapons that may hold grave implications as to the true potency of the Vesmos armed forces.”

“And what would those be?” the Queen questioned. Her tone emulated that of a loan shark listening to the snivelling excuses of a victim.

“Replication magic, your highness. A type that can copy a Spirit’s magic and allow its users to harness it themselves. Even Iris's magic is not exempt from this. Assuming your estimations of her power are correct, the replication of Hardridge’s or even yours is not entirely off the table.”

Elvera paused, assessing Her Majesty’s reactions. Even though she was never one to punish the bearer of bad news, she still presented herself as someone who might. The Queen voiced no protest and waited for Elvera’s words to continue.

“The weapon seems to be a prototype, judging by how little we know of it. But, the boy has expressed clues as to its mass production.”

The Queen sighed, or at least conveyed a sound roughly equivalent. “First these supposed beasts of steel and now this. Is their power anything comparable to an Aether-infused individual?”

“Greater, perhaps. I saw the subject fend off a group of Vesmos soldiers by himself. The wand-bearing type, ma’am.”

The Queen nodded slowly. “It seems I am indebted to Hardridge one more. Lieutenant-General?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“See to it my debt to her does not grow any larger. As the head of Special Operations, I give you full authority over this matter. Use your resources as you see fit, and engage with matters from any angle bureaucracy alone cannot. Do you agree to this assignment?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Elvera said, straightening herself and saluting.

“Good. Your objective is the safe extraction of any and all relevant information from the subject, by whatever methods deemed necessary.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And Lieutenant-General, I do mean by whatever methods.”