Fritz opened the door to behold the scowling face of his tutor.

"Lord Hightide! I need to speak with you," Adam barked.

"Why are you shouting, good man!?" Fritz barked back with all the feigned noble affront he could muster.

"My apologies, Lord," Adam said, lowering his tone to a growl. Somehow, that was more intimidating, but Fritz refused to be badgered in such a way, not after his long, dreadful day.

Anyway, he wasn't afraid of his tutor; the pretence of immediate wroth and harsh reprimand Adam wore like armour was just that, a pretence. Underneath all that bluster was a man just as caring as a favourite uncle.

"Sir Needle, what has you in this ferocious state? Is something amiss?" Fritz asked innocently.

"Don't give me that nonsense," Adam said, though it did come out more annoyed than threatening. "There's been something of a scandal and your 'illustrious' name has been on many tongues."

"Oh?" Fritz said. "I don't see why that's got you in such a fuss and hurry."

"Well, to my surprise, this rogue and rapscallion, Francis Hightide, had invoked his right to a duel," Adam explained.

"All correct so far," Fritz allowed.

"Although that's not what pricked my ears," Adam continued. "I heard that he was taught by the best blade in the city and that gave him the boundless confidence to challenge his accusers."

"Which is as true as the rain," Fritz said with a smirk.

A self-satisfied smile sliced through Adam's scowl for a moment, then his mouth returned to a hard, unhappy line.

"We should discuss this further inside," Adam stated.

"Very well," Fritz said. "Let us retire to the lounge. Would you care for some tea?"

"I would," Adam said.

"Cassandra, tea for myself and Sir Needle if you will," Fritz ordered.

The maid nodded and gratefully bustled away.

With that, Fritz turned and led his tutor to the lounge.

They sat in their customary places, Adam on the couch, since his bulk was too great for the armchairs, and Fritz across from him in one of those same armchairs.

"What happened?" Adam asked.

"Well, the King summoned me," Fritz said.

"That much I've heard," Adam said. "What transpired in the King's Court?"

Fritz cleared his throat and was about to embark on the only slightly exaggerated story when he was interrupted.

"And don't be telling some grand tale, attempt to be truthful and concise, if it's possible."

"Fine," Fritz said, before plunging into the day's events.

Adam, for his part, didn't comment and barely twitched a muscle unless it was to sip from a teacup that looked comically small in his huge hands. His eyes were unwavering and his brow was cast pensively. The only reaction Fritz was able to elicit from the man was when he told of the court's and the young lords' responses to declaring Sir Needle his second.

Adam smiled grimly. "Glad to hear they haven't forgotten my skill. Though it was foolish to align yourself with me. Continue."

Fritz did, eventually coming to the end when they left the palace in the royal carriage.

"It's a good sign you weren't made to walk or swim home. You must have pleased the King somehow," Adam said thoughtfully.

"He didn't seem pleased. Unless a ten-thousand gold debt is considered leniency," Fritz complained.

"To a man like Alphonse, a paltry sum like that is nigh merciful," Adam said sternly. "There's likely a game afoot... or afin, as the merfolk might say."

"A plot then? To discredit those noble Houses?" Fritz asked, stoically giving away nothing of his distaste for puns.

Adam nodded. "A good a guess as any."

"Why?"

Adam shrugged. "It's probably best not to know. Just be a good tool and win this duel. Or lose it, if that is what the King desires. You'll likely hear from one of his agents soon enough."

Fritz sighed. He wondered how a slight in a Spire turned into the very kind of political mess he was hoping to avoid.

Adam seemed to read his thoughts and gave him a gentle smile. "That's the way of nobility, did you really think you'd be able to rejoin them without all their plotting and posturing getting in the way?"

"I hoped so, but no. I did expect it, just not this soon or this... deadly," Fritz admitted. "Still, it's not like my opponents are anything noteworthy. A couple of pampered level tens with as much spine as a squid and as much mettle as a minnow."

"Pampered level tens who have had their whole lives to train with their chosen Techniques and Treasures," Adam amended. "And don't forget that you're meant to be keeping secrets. Such as an abnormally high level."

Fritz grimaced; that fact had slipped his mind. His heartbeat quickened with new fear.

"Will they inspect my Sanctum?" he asked.

"It's not likely. Unless you display your Abilities in full, the audience won't notice enough to pry," Adam said.

"Are you sure they won't check? Even if it's just to make sure the duels are fair?" Fritz asked, not wholly reassured.

Adam chuckled. "The duels won't be fair. As they represent their Houses' honour, they will come fully equipped with all manner of their family's hoarded Treasures. Old, potent heirlooms."

"Is there no limit to how many Treasures you can bear?"

"None, though usually the duellists discuss and agree beforehand how many they should field," Adam said, leaning back on the couch. It made a worrying creak, but they both ignored the sound.

"They get to choose both the stakes and the Treasures, don't they?"

Adam nodded, then sighed.

Fritz swiftly thought of any trick or scheme that could help his predicament. "Poison?"

Adam shook his head. "In the duel, dishonourable. An instant loss. And if you do it beforehand, rendering them too sick, or too dead, to fight, you'll have to duel their seconds. Who have both been some ways up the Rain Spire from what I know of them. Best to fight these young nobles rather than their more experienced and more powerful relatives."

Fritz stomped his foot in frustration.

"Speaking of seconds, you said you dragged your brother into this mess?"

"That's not what I said," Fritz bristled. "There was no one else to stand as second, so Elliot, honourably, I might add, chose to stand beside me."

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"You don't care about honour," Adam said dismissively.

The words may have been true, but Fritz glared all the same. He cared for his brother, and if he had the choice, he wouldn't have involved him. His tutor met his eyes, though he soon relented, sighing.

"Sorry, that was too far," Adam said, reaching for his hip flask, then taking a large swig. He let out a long, acrid exhalation, then continued to speak, "Bring him to training, I'll do my best to get you both prepared."

"I don't intend to have him stand in my place," Fritz said.

"You never know what the next day brings. If there's a complication or you're delayed somehow, he'll need to be able to hold his own. I'd lend him some Treasures if I had any that were suitable. Even if he can't activate their Imbuements due to his lack of a Sanctum, the magical reinforcement would aid him somewhat."

"I have a fair few things to spare," Fritz hedged.

Adam nodded. "I suppose that's all there is to discuss. You look set to see this through. And I think I know you well enough to see you inherited your father's stubborn streak and you won't change your mind."

"Even if I wanted to run, I can't. That would ruin all I've strived to build. And I won't take this insult. I won't be pushed around by soft fools who haven't known a day of hunger."

"Watch out, pride isn't worth your life," Adam warned.

"I know that full well," Fritz said. "It's not just pride, but pragmatism. If I let these inbred boors thwart me, it would show that I'm weak. Easy to intimidate and take advantage of."

"You are weak, Francis. I don't say this to be cruel, but you have no standing and aren't even close to being a Journeyman Climber," Adam said sadly.

Fritz clenched his fists. "Well, I'm doing all I can to remedy that. In just a few more months, I'll Climb the Rain Spire. I'll come out stronger than ever."

"And then what?" Adam challenged.

"What do you mean?"

"What do you do when you've conquered all the spires in Rain City?" Adam asked. Not one doubt that they'd manage to Climb to the precipice of the Rain Spire.

"I don't know," Fritz admitted. "I'm more concerned about surviving the present."

"You should think about it. You should watch for those invisible shackles that will try to bind you here. Duty can make mighty chains, and privilege and comfort can lull a man into complicity," Adam opined. "And in the grand scheme of things, Rain City is small. You should flee it as soon as possible."

Fritz affected a pensive expression. It was advice that resonated deep within his spirit. But he did have a responsibility to his family and his House. He wished he could heed his tutor's words at that very moment, find a ship willing to take him and everyone he cared for and sail away.

But would they come?

Bert would, his family might, but would his team? Would Sylvia abandon the Refuge if he asked? If he pleaded? If he begged?

Rationality reasserted its relentless grip and he shook his head.

"For now, I'm needed here," Fritz said. "Though it is as you said, you never know what the next day brings."

Adam nodded. "I just want you to consider the larger world. Focusing so hard on this city and its politics will narrow your vision."

"I just want to get through this...stupidity and Climb," Fritz stated.

"Right," Adam agreed. "You're just going to have to practise hard and prepare as much as you can. That means no more nightly outings or missing our lessons."

Fritz nodded. "I'm done with that."

"Finally, some good sense," Adam said, then he stood. "I'll take my leave now. There are some things I need to acquire."

Fritz stood as well and gave a small bow, which his tutor returned before striding away.

All that was left for this night was to meet Nic, who would then lead him to his next deadly appointment. It was with a groan that he made his way to his room and changed into the darker clothing a meeting with the Nightshark would entail.

Already the hours had been long, so he fed some gold to the Amulet of Repose and used its Second Wind. The stamina rushed through him and invigorated his limbs, though it did little to alleviate the mental fatigue he had suffered. A herbal remedy helped with that.

After informing Bert that he would be away for some hours, Fritz was soon on his way down into the districts. He was tailed for some time by an annoying guardswoman, but was able to slink into a shadow and escape her sight. He watched with a smile as Louisa kicked a puddle, accidentally splashed herself, then cursed under her breath.

Although he wanted to confront her again, this time with a proposition and far more charm and guile than he'd previously levied, he hadn't the time. He was likely to be late as it was, and that was without bargaining with the woman for some information and perhaps assistance.

He took his leave and chose to scale one of the walls rather than take the gates; it was quicker and quieter that way.

Nearly half an hour later, he found himself at the tavern where he was to find Nic. He entered, though not before reversing a newly sewn coat, replacing the matte black with the oilcloth brown. As he made his way to the table where Nic sat nursing a bottle of clear spirits, Fritz noticed something.

The thugs and cutthroats that patronised the premises were not glaring or scowling as they had done when he'd been there before. Instead, upon seeing his coat, they nodded respectfully or gave him half-smiles of greeting. Though those expressions were just as ugly, they were far easier to endure when they were attempting to be pleasant. He returned the gestures where he could, signing 'well met' to those he passed on his way to Nic's table.

Fritz sat, taking his place opposite the slouching man.

"You're early," Nic said in those tarry tones.

"Am I? My lucky night," Fritz said.

"Luck? And here I thought you turned over a new leaf," Nic said with the slightest of smiles.

"Alas, my day has been a muddle and I have merely rushed from one trouble to another," Fritz admitted.

"You sayin' the boss is trouble?" Nic growled.

Fritz hesitated, worried he'd angered the man.

"Ha! You don't know the half of it," Nic chuckled. "Just let me finish this glass, then we can get goin'."

Fritz nodded, relaxing in his chair. It was apparent that he wasn't likely being brought in for punishment, not with Nic's 'good' mood. Though you could never truly tell with that villainous sort.

It only took a few minutes before the thug sucked down the last of his bitter spirits, then he stood and motioned for Fritz to follow. He did without delay. To his small surprise, instead of heading outside, he was led into a backroom, then down a hatch and into some tunnels below.

"Not going to blindfold me or anything?" Fritz asked. "Aren't you afraid I'll reveal these passages to someone?"

"Nah, you're one of us now. And the Nightshark's got full hold of you in those talons. Or so she says," Nic said. "I tend to trust her words. Hasn't done me wrong yet."

"None of those scars are from her?"

"One or two," Nic said. "From when I was younger... more rash and in a rush, as it were."

"Younger," Fritz repeated mostly to himself. He tried imagining a bright-eyed, boyish Nic, with no scars and less of a slouch. It was an impossible task.

"Aye, us older, wiser folk don't just leap out of the sea, you know," Nic said. "And you have to do a bit of hard livin' to get wise."

Fritz was inclined to something witty, but refrained. He needed to save what little of his wit he had left for the Nightshark and whatever quests or errands she had for him.

It wasn't long before he could smell a hint of perfume on the light breeze; it was overly sweet, and almost sticky, but it was immensely preferable to the slight but all-encompassing scent of mildew and mould.

Soon, he was wading through the haze of the harem, the sight and sounds of delights and desires all around. He ignored them as he had the first time he was here, his bones tingling with that dim cold from whatever substance suffused the cloying air. Then they were through the main room and he was taken into a side room rather than where he had been led previously.

Nic had him enter alone. It was small and comfortable, thick blue curtains hid stone walls. Gentle heat poured from a smoking brass brazier sitting on a stone table; within its shallow bowl, grey coals glowed, covered by a thin, flickering coat of purple flame.

The Nightshark sat on a long red couch, gilded and carved. She wore a dress of black and silver, which hung low around her shoulders and high around her thighs. Two scantily clad figures attended her, a beautiful woman rubbing her scaly shoulders and a muscular man massaging her sleek calves.

Upon noticing Fritz, she sent the servants away with a clap like a breaking bone. They pouted, but didn't voice their complaints as they hurried to obey.

"Lord Hightide, sit by me," she ordered, patting a space beside her.

He wanted to refuse, but whatever was in the smoke was already making him dizzy and a little nauseated. His bones burned colder with every moment, it wouldn't do to shiver openly in the face of such a predator.

He bowed first, then gracefully made his way to her and sat where she had bade.

"Good," she said, turning to face him and smiling those wicked fangs. "I am glad to see that you're not being as unruly or as stubborn as you were with the King."

"I wasn't unruly," Fritz objected. "And I prefer the term honourable to stubborn."

He didn't ask how she knew of his hearing; she was the Nightshark, with countless spies across the city, not all of which had to be simple beasts.

"And I prefer my pets to stay out of sight, especially when I have other tasks they could be performing. Like Climbing a certain Spire for me," she said, reaching out and brushing one talon down his cheek.

Though Fritz rankled at being named a pet, he was keenly aware that her nail's sharp point could cut his skin as if it were wet paper. She noticed his apprehension, motes of pleasure gleamed behind scarlet eyes, then she drew her hand away, a cruel smirk twisting her lips.

"Alas," she drawled. "The House of Hightide has caught too much attention, and its heir apparent can't just go missing for days on end. Not while there are so many eyes watching and ears listening."

"I apologise," Fritz said. "It was not my intention to cause such a stir."

"More than a stir. A pair of duels, if I've heard correctly," the Nightshark said.

Fritz nodded. "That's correct. Again, none of this was my intention."

"I have gathered as much. If I thought you had planned any of this, you would already be drowned," she said distractedly, waving her hand through the haze of curling smoke, watching as it wafted in strange spirals.

Fritz cleared his throat. He was getting drowsy, his eyes felt gritty, and the cold was seeping all through his body; he needed to leave as quickly as he could.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked bluntly.

"For now? Nothing," she said, returning her gaze to his own. "Finish your duel. Win or lose, it matters not. When the gossip dies down and you are remembered as but a passing fancy from last month, I will have you Climb. I want you to Guide some of the talents I've found. You do owe me some Browncoats after all the fishwits you culled."

"I was defending my life and my territory," Fritz said.

"Not your territory. Sid's. Though I know all about that. And that is why you aren't being punished. Be grateful that I don't have your pretty face pay in scars."

Fritz nodded. "I am grateful for your mercy."

"Good. I am pleased. Now that I am done with you, you may leave."

He made to stand, but the Nightshark leaned in close, pressing her warm, scaled bosom against his arm. "Or you may stay and please me further."

Fritz backed away instinctively, nearly scrambling to the edge of the couch.

The Nightshark laughed. It was high and rich, and horrible. "So precious! Like a mouse!"

Fritz kept the scowl off his face and the hatred from his eyes. Instead, he smiled as if he were merely confused and embarrassed.

"Such innocence stirs my desire to tear you into pieces," she said viciously.

Those weren't idle words; he could see the lust for both blood and body boiling around her.

He sat still as a stone, keeping his eyes locked to hers, knowing that if he made a move, she might just pounce and make good on the promise. Eventually, her gaze dulled slightly, and she was distracted again by the patterns in the smoke.

Her shoulders relaxed and she sat back with a soft sigh.

"Go," she said, waving him away with a smile.

Fritz stood swiftly and began to stride away when the Nightshark spoke again. He turned.

"Francis, this should go without saying, but don't reveal all your Abilities during the duel. We wouldn't want any questions about a secret Spire, now would we?"

Fritz nodded, then, seeking to earn any edge he could, asked, "As my 'master', could you lend me some aid? Anything would be appreciated."

She tilted her head thoughtfully. "I will send you something to shroud your Sanctum from cursory inspection. Now go, and tell Nic to send in my favourites."

Fritz bowed. "Thank you."

With that, he left and passed along the message, then he was allowed to leave without escort or dally in the harem if he pleased.

He chose to leave.

It was a surprising amount of freedom that he was afforded, though he supposed he'd earned it. That, and the cursed mark on his chest rendered him a prisoner, for now.

Still, he counted his blessings. He was able to pursue his own ends for a while longer. Though after that, who knew? Would the Nightshark have him Climbing that terrible Spire over and over, raising an army of Browncoats?

Fritz shook his head. Only time would tell. He had other, more pressing matters to worry about, like preparing for his duels. For now he set his sight on raising his mastery with The Inevitable Blade.

He would have to work hard.

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