It was a rare breed of optimistic perspective that made “robbing one of the most powerful religious institutions in the worlds of their most sacred, coveted artifact” capable of moving into territory considered “more difficult than anticipated.” Most people would have a hard time finding anything that sounded, to them, more difficult than such a feat. But there was also something to be said for the high of obtaining three objects of similar status with, historically speaking, incredible ease and a nearly unprecedented amount of luck. That sort of thing could carry you quite far; weeks in the wilderness across half of Atnaterra, to be precise.
Root leaned back on her hands as she sat by the fountain, the mist of statue spit and other fluids splashing her back. She looked up at the inverted form of the Eternal Palace. The others shared her focus.
“It won’t be a matter of sneaking around the side and swiping it while they’re not looking—not like with Hamlick and the flute,” said Vit.
“Surely not,” agreed Azriah.
“It’s going to be a lot more involved. Bigger plans, higher stakes.”
“Mhm.”
“A heist,” said Root.
“Or,” said Azriah. “Maybe this is a bit much.” He glanced back down the street in the direction they’d approached the palace from—back towards their inn and, beyond it, the worlds gate, only a short walk away.
“What, you’re chickening out?”
“We can’t rob a church, Root.”
“Why? Afraid a god might smite you?”
Azriah scoffed. “No. But I’m reasonably concerned about the things the pious do in the name of their gods.”
“They’re just people.”
“A lot of people. With a unifying ideology. And no shortage of resources or manpower. Even just getting in there would take a m—”
Root smacked his arm. “Don’t!”
“Right. But my point stands.”
“Eh, it’s kneeling at best,” said Root, wobbling her hand. “I’m sure there are opportunities to go inside. The expensive tours, for instance. Or—hey, how do you guys feel about becoming priests?”
“That would take a lot of time and study,” said Beel. “And giving up some of your… habits.”
“Yeah, I was just kidding. Ugh, never mind.”
Vit furrowed their brow. “I thought habits were for nuns.”
“Habits are for non-nuns,” said Beel with a shake of his head. “At least Root’s variety.”
“Non-nuns,” repeated Vit, chewing the words.
“What are we doing here?” asked Azriah. “Really?”
“What do you mean?” asked Root, face flushed. Droplets of mist sizzled off the back of her neck.
“I mean… Look, this is getting serious. What’s our end goal here?”
“Get the halo.”
“Collect the mote periapts,” said Vit. “Just like we said after we fought Ophylla. Make sure they don’t fall into the wrong hands—or stay in the wrong hands. They’re too powerful.”
“Right, okay. And then?”
Root nodded at Vit. “It’s like we said then: with all of them together, maybe we can assemble some web of protections that no one could ever break through. Or maybe there’s some other option—a way to destroy them we just haven’t come across. But what matters right now is that that one’s in there, and we’re out here. And another thing—if anyone knows what can be done with these things, it’s probably the crazy cult with their eyes already locked on one massive goal for the set. Halo aside, we need information, and we know where to find it.”
“You think they’d tell us anything?” asked Vit.
“Not willingly. But Syrus said there’s a whole arm of the church—the Order of Seekers—which means—”
“Paperwork,” said Azriah with a nod.
“Exactly. Correspondence at minimum—Syrus was in touch with his people somehow—but probably more. Research, archives. If they’ve been building up a base of knowledge for generations, they’re keeping it somewhere. They know about these things—way more than we do—which might be our key to a long-term plan.
Azriah sighed. “Yes, I take your point. But that doesn’t change the fact that, as you said, it’s in there, and we’re out here.”
They fell to silence as they looked up at the palace again.
“If we’re sure about this,” Azriah started, and made no attempt to hide another glance back in the direction of the worlds gate, “I just want to make sure we’re really thinking this through. I mean, after we ended up with the mirror and amulet, we just set out with vague aims—find the mote periapts, keep them in well-meaning hands. We found and nabbed the flute on luck alone. A heist? That’s far, far beyond anything we’ve done so far.”
“And surely not worth it,” said Beel. “Just look at all those guards. One, two, three, four…”
“Well, for the time being, that same goal will serve us,” said Root. “We know what the Children of Endkiu want with the periapts. Immortality for all humans—‘complete control over life and death,’ Syrus said, which sounds even more concerning. You think the church should wield that power?”
“Far from it,” said Azriah. “But say we find them all. Should we wield it?”
“Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen…”
“We won’t. We aren’t using them, we’re protecting them.”
Vit nodded. “It’s too much power.” Their expression was worried, guarded.
“But even if we maintain three, that locks others out of gaining that power,” said Azriah. “Maybe they keep this one, maybe they find another. But if we find an answer for dealing with the ones we already have, neither the church nor Ajis or Ophylla or anyone else will ever manage to wield them all.”
“Sure,” said Root. “But have you looked around?”
Azriah scanned the city crowds in their odd garb, quick paces, frightened demeanors. His eyes flicked over locked doors and boarded windows. He adopted an uneasy expression, raised it, and left it a nice spot of inheritance.
“Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty…”
“It’s an Atnaterran city. It has its quirks.”
“Quirks?” said Root. “Listen, I can’t tell you for certain what’s going on here, but this city is fucked. And the church is to blame.”
“We should do something,” agreed Vit.
Azriah took a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”
Vit turned to Beel. “Did you count that one there? Forty-two…”
“Forty-two, forty-three… Hrr, you made me lose count! One…”
“You don’t have to help if you’re, I don’t know, scared of damnation or whatever,” said Root.
“No—hey. Listen, I’m just making sure we’re certain this is what’s best, that’s all. We’ve come this far. If this is our next step, I’m with you. But it’s a big leap.”
“And you think we can pull it off?” asked Vit. “A heist?”
Another deep breath. “I think we are going to need one hell of a plan. But we’ve managed against some tough odds before.”
Root cocked her head. “And Beel’s already gathering intel for us.”
“Fifteen, sixteen—what? Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. Have you decided it’s a lost cause yet?”
“We’re going to need more,” said Azriah. “For starters, verifying that this ‘Halo of the Unsightly King’ is the mote periapt from the book. No sense going to such great lengths just to steal some random heirloom.”
“Make sure it matches up with the sketch—good idea,” said Vit. “What do you suggest?”
Azriah shrugged. “You ever gone to church?”
“Unbelievable,” said Ajis. He stood at the crest of a hill, looking out towards the walls of Urk rising up amongst the dunes in the far distance. “Those four—they’re stupid, brainless. At least that spirit should know better! Unbelievable. Right into the lion’s den.”
“Hm,” said Ophylla. She brushed sand off her shirt. “Why are we all the way out here, again? You’re afraid to go any closer?”
Ajis clenched his jaw; steam escaped past his lips. “We can’t get any closer via portals—the Children have the whole region closed off, no one goes in without their direct approval. A bunch of fascists. You know that, so stop being insolent.”
Ophylla shrugged, and her living hair shrugged with her. “Just takes longer to get reports, that’s all.”
It took several more minutes of waiting, but then a sound made its way up the hill. It was the sound of wheezing breaths working their way through a tiny, convoluted windpipe.
“Huhh, huhh,” breathed the small green tumbleweed spirit, his knotted body swelling and contracting like an expandable ball toy. “Hello… missus…”
“Loope,” said Ophylla. “Apologies for our inconvenient choice of rendezvous point.”
“Um, excuse me,” said Ajis. He had stepped forward and begun tapping his foot expectantly after Loope greeted Ophylla.
Loope looked up at Ajis. “Hi.”
“What’s your report?” asked Ophylla, ignoring Ajis.
“We’ve been following them, missus. They’re in the city. Hard time coming and going in secret, too, missus—tight security around the walls. If I may, missus—might be wise to keep the in-person reports to a minimum; coming and going is a risssk.”
“Understood. And you’re still following their whereabouts?”
Loope gestured with his tail to the spot where his companion might’ve been otherwise. “Yes, missus.”
“Good. Continue.”
“They’ve toured the palace grounds, missus. They’re interested. Had a little chat outside, too. They want the mote periapt.”
“Of course they do,” said Ajis. “It’s what brought them to Urk in the first place. But they’re fools if they think they can—”
“They have budding plans to perform a heist,” said Loope.
“Do not interrupt me,” snarled Ajis. “A heist? Ha!”
Ophylla combed a hand through her locs. “That’s troubling.”
“Troubling? It’s downright foolish. The Eternal Palace is the most secure facility in Atnaterra—maybe the worlds! Have they even seen the vault? The display case? The skip snare?”
“They haven’t been inside,” said Loope.
“And they likely never will be, unless it’s straight into cells.”
“Likely,” said Ophylla thoughtfully.
“That’s what I said.”
“But it wouldn’t be impossible.”
“I—well, very nearly.”
“They’re good, you know. I hired them for a reason. They cracked Affodell’s crypt.”
Ajis shook his head. “This is no abandoned grave site.”
“No, it certainly isn’t.”
Ajis tapped a finger on his arm. He looked out towards Urk. “Of course. Well, say they did succeed…”
“You take my point, then?”
“It was my point.”
“Mhm, I just borrowed it from the future version of you who thought of it.”
“Watch your tone. Yes, say they succeeded… and say they escape Urk—somehow—with the mote periapt in their possession. Instead of two dozen walls, the joint forces of the city’s military and palace guard detail, all of those protections…”
“Four bodies,” said Ophylla.
“Three if you discount the sniveling one.”
“I wouldn’t, but whatever math you prefer.”
“Within my reach for the first time in… well, before the Children it was the king, and his security was even stronger. It had much, much longer to poison him before the Children, versus these humans who keep dying off—no momentum. Within my reach, then, for very nearly the first time ever.”
“We could beat them to it,” said Ophylla, gesturing to Loope. Loope looked up with the expression of someone who had just been volunteered to bite off far more than they could chew—or digest, in the case of Loope’s anatomy.
“No,” said Ajis immediately. “It’s against the rules. As long as you are part of my crew, your actions speak for me, and I won’t have it. But these kids—they don’t know what they’re involved with. They’re outside of it all. If they change the game, all bets are off.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“It’s also stupid. Do you know how far the arms of the Children reach? The resources and numbers they possess?”
Ophylla raised an eyebrow. “What, you think they could manage it, but you couldn’t?”
“I didn’t say—”
“Missus,” said Loope. “What about the other mote periapts? One of them—Vit—in particular is much more vigilant now, and our openings are few, but just as you instructed with the book, with our burrowing, we might—”
“No,” said Ophylla and Ajis at once.
“As you command, missus.”
“Which one is Vit?” Ajis asked Ophylla.
“The half-spirit,” said Ophylla patiently.
Ajis grumbled. “I don’t like it. But if they do manage, it may just be in our favor.”
Ophylla stared at him. “And if they manage, they will have four of the mote periapts. Do you understand that?”
“It just seems impossible,” said Ajis, clicking his tongue. “But yes. They would.”
Ophylla could plainly see that he didn’t take this idea lightly. He wasn’t generally the sort inclined to expressions of worry or contemplation—or anything but sourness and fury—but it read clear as a sunny day on his face. The moment passed, and then he was back to sourness.
“They’re humans,” said Ajis after a moment. “Mostly. At the end of the day, it won’t matter. They can die. Sooner or later, they will. And they’re not an organization with an insulated line of succession. There are cracks, or there will be. The odds are better than with the Children. It’s an unfortunate truth, but true nonetheless.”
“And if they’re captured and lose their three mote periapts? If it’s the church that comes away with four?”
Ajis watched the walls of Urk for many moments, a roiling scorn simmering just below his stony facade like hardening magma.
“They’re in there,” he said at last. “So we’d best hope that doesn’t come to pass. But that doesn’t mean we’re helpless. We keep those three mote periapts out of David’s hands, and if we play our cards right, we pry a fourth from his grip as well. A wild gambit, but one that may pay off mightily.”
“Ah,” said Ophylla. “Just keep the mote periapts away from the Ooze. Of course. Why hadn’t I thought of that?”
“Because I’m smarter,” said Ajis with a devastating obliviousness to sarcasm. “And I may have the beginnings of a plan.”