Justin watches Condor walk into the Lady’s office and close the door. Left alone, he heads into the foyer again, takes a deep breath and turns on his Sight.
The world shifts to black and white, as if drawn quickly in a value study; the darkest is near-solid black, with mid-values cross-hatched and white left untouched. The room was still before, and it is even more still now, as if he’s looking at an individual drawn picture. A few pulsing lines run below his feet, likely part of a larger ward, with more around the entrance. Plenty of room for improvement. Good.
He turns his head, then glances down. The Sight lags enough for the panning to seem like individual frames in a hand-drawn video.
No bubbling or steam at his chest; just the normal glow beneath the skin. Nobody is watching him.
He turns it off, rolls his shoulders and relaxes, and, for the first time today allows himself to be a tourist. Unconsciously, he rests his hands on the statues at his sides. It’s hard for him to enjoy the beauty of Sanctuary uncritically, not when there’s so much at stake.
What had he even been able to learn about the Lady of Sanctuary?
The sole survivor of whatever had destroyed House Lim not long after the then-Lord of Manila disappeared. A woman whose demesne is now a massive hotel, who stands on the edge of making her stated dreams a reality, who even now is reaching out to the young and desperate. Someone who had made the offer to help Condor seemingly out of the goodness of her heart.
In short, he thinks, she’s someone with a very clear understanding of how to manipulate karma. Perhaps a law mage; perhaps adjacent. Either way, if nothing else, he feels confident that he knows the etiquette for this meeting—and that, here in her demesnes, there isn’t much hope of coming out without some sort of debt regardless of how well he comports himself.
He deeply regrets not insisting on meeting her before Condor.
There’s something very deliberate about the lovely colored glass of the ceiling; the way the sunbeams diffuse into the pond and cast rainbow reflections; the threefold pastry trays placed directly by the elevator they arrived in.
Justin moves, walking around the pond, past the stairs, and into the empty lobby. The opulence remains, and so does his anxiety. It’s beautiful, he feels like he should be comfortable here, and that’s what makes him worried.
The factory doesn’t have any pretensions; it’s all Condor. But here? Unless the Lady of House Lim is just this type of aristocrat (and he dearly hopes she isn’t), it’s crafted to give an impression. It works. He is impressed, but he still can’t stop dwelling on a single question.
What does she stand to gain? Me as an employee, sure—but for them?
They both have something they want from her: a job, her help. Maybe long-term support, if this goes well. Her wanting power over him, and thus his family in turn? He can understand that, and it might even be worth it to him to go along with it. But Condor isn’t from a powerful family and doesn’t have any particularly strong tricks as far as he can tell. They aren’t part of a greater community. And yet-
Condor isn’t just here to serve as leverage over me, even if it’s an option. She made the offer to them before knowing we were connected. No, her helping Condor is about something else.
What did Condor have that Lady Lim would want? He could probably list fifty things that matter to him, but to someone whose demesne is this hotel and whose vision is as grand as Sanctuary?
Does she just want a Practitioner to owe her an un-repayable debt, and what for? Does she need materials, a student, a-
One very concerning possibility occurs to him. She already has one unusual psychopomp on staff. Could she be collecting them? Did she know that’s what they are?
I didn’t.
His jaw is clenched. There’s no way to know for sure. He’s not angry; he’s afraid. He flicks his Sight back on to look over the Lobby and Lounge, and watches the flow of electricity in the walls for a moment to calm down before checking his chest and feet. Still unobserved. It isn’t comforting.
Justin explores the rest of the first floor, taking in as much as he can of the scenery and security. The furnishings are beautiful. The wards shown in his Sight are straightforward and efficient, if not optimized; he sits on a disarmingly comfortable armchair and jots down a few notes. He’s almost too nervous to work, but he has an interview soon, and he’ll need points to make. Things he sees, tweaks he would make. Improvements he envisions. The proposal has to stand up to scrutiny. In the back of his mind, he worries about what Lady Lim is saying to his friend.
As he looks and works and writes down ideas, everything else slowly drains away.
Creating efficient wards for the factory has been a fun puzzle on its own, and he’s not even done designing them yet. Wards for Sanctuary? That might be a project on a scale he’s only dreamed of. He knows he’s technically just an apprentice, but that won’t stop him from doing his best. Justin would be willing to work under someone else, be an assistant—hell, he’d be willing to be in charge of taking notes while everyone else got to do the real work.
He wants this job. He needs the protection, the experience, a paycheck of any kind. Condor needs their Practice back. So as long as the Lady doesn’t intend to claim his friend or worse, he’ll do whatever it takes to get it. And if she does have that intention… a little voice in the back of his head that he’s doing his best to ignore whispers, They’re talking without you; it’s already too late.
Time’s up. Justin takes a deep breath, stretches his arms in front of him, and walks back to where he left Condor in the Lady’s hands.
Condor looks worried, which makes him even more worried.
“What happened?”
They shrug, then frown. “I’m… she offered a lot.”
“Like what?”
“Resources. Anything I ask for?” His friend looks uncomfortable, and Justin can’t tell if it’s caused by his questions or the situation. In another situation, he might back off, but there are questions he needs answered if he wants a chance at advocating for both of them later.
“Did she say what she wants in return?”
“Nothing? A, uh, pay it forward type of thing.” He wants to put his hand on their shoulder reassuringly or hug them outright, say something thoughtful, kind, uplifting. The kind of thing they would do, if they were him. But he knows he isn’t as good a person as they are, and he’s trying very hard to focus on the impending negotiation.
“One more question. Did you promise her anything?”
“No.”
Those are, and aren’t, the answers he’d expected.
He’s a little bit worried now that he’s misread the situation, that something else is happening here beyond the Lady setting up the type of power structures he’s familiar with, but there’s no time left to spend thinking. He turns towards the door and shoves the worry down. They can pick it apart later.
“Let’s talk once I’m out.” As he turns, if Condor were paying attention, they would see him take a deep breath, roll his shoulders, and stiffen his posture before knocking.
“Come in,” the Lady bids, voice carrying through the door.
Her office is practical and comfortably decorated, and he can still smell the tea in the air. After spending so much time analyzing the public-facing areas, he’s taken aback by how much this room isn’t trying to impress him.
His eyes finally rest on the Lady, far, far younger than he’d imagined (and somehow that doesn’t change her presence in any way from what he’d expected), sitting behind the wooden desk and judging him in kind. He knows it’s happening, even if she’s hiding it perfectly.
Justin gives a practiced bow. “Lady of House Lim, my name is Jueming Liang, but please call me Justin. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me and Condor.”
He’s comfortable with how this process will go; he’s watched it play through many times. First, the brief power play of a perhaps five-to-ten second wait while she studies him and makes an initial judgment, then a quick conversation to further judge his inherent value (proven with his family name), ability to feign sincerity (good enough) and adherence to etiquette (excellent) that will flavor the rest of their discussion. Then, once she’s willing to hear him out, they’ll sit down while he proves his worth to her by discussing warding opportunities, answering questions and demonstrating his (very limited) expertise.
The hard part is that once she’s comfortable with his worth, then he can move on to… to somehow leveraging that worth into convincing her to not claim Condor, even though she’s already laid down the groundwork better than he could have, with her scones and gifts and offers.
That’s the shakiest part, and also the most important part. Well…
At least he knows how to do this, how to keep his face perfectly impassive, gaze level, keep track of how long she waits for the next-
She replies immediately. Her voice is kind and sounds almost amused by the formality. “No, thank you, Justin. There’s no need to be so tense. Feel free to take a seat.”
What?
By the time he sits down with Condor afterwards, he still doesn’t fully trust her, but he feels… comfortable. It’s not a victory to have received a reassurance that she has no plans to claim Condor (along with a knowing, concerned look that he did not enjoy being on the receiving end of), but he appreciates it regardless. And he respects what he sees.
There’s more than one way to amass and hold on to power, after all, and Justin’s just been hired by an expert.
Straw into Steel 