12: Chicago Woes

AN: Before this chapter starts, just a quick invitation to come join us on my Patreon. Kyber-Punk 22BBY is going strong (~40k words at time of posting). Again, that story is a Cyberpunk-Star Wars crossover. So far, it's been essentially a Cyberpunk story with Star Wars flair but the coming chapters of it will start to incorporate more of the Star Wars side of things. It's a lot of fun and I plan to keep it going for a while longer. My Patreons also get lots of bonus pics (with sauces) and interaction as the chapters come out. It's currently about a month ahead of the public releases which means two more Fae Gamble chapters and six Kyber-Punk chapters. Anyway, I guess that's my peace said. Enjoy the chapter :]

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IIIII

After getting over that first bump, Edgar found that Myrddin the Pseudo-Mage wasn't nearly as unlikable as he first came across.

"Magic? Truly?" He asked, his voice intent and eager.

They'd taken their conversation inside to an oddly secure room within the Protectorate wing of the PRT building. After Myrddin was made to break character, something Revel had never seen, she thought such precautions were prudent. His second-in-command took the reins of the meeting and herded them away from any potential watching eyes. The storied Chicago leader had a reputation to uphold, after all.

His lapse in character was something of an event, as far as Edgar could tell. An interesting one, at that. It successfully managed to make him look twice at the 'magical' hero. Edgar's first impression of Myrddin… wasn't flattering. But he was quickly coming to realize that the cape had been acting out of sorts from the beginning.

Ciara's presence set Myrddin on edge. That much was clear to anyone with eyes. Perhaps they had a history. Or perhaps Myrddin simply tended towards caution that verged on paranoia. It could easily be both, for even Dragon didn't dissuade Myrddin's standoffish greeting. The man clearly didn't approve of Ciara or fully believe that she'd turned over a new leaf. Edgar couldn't imagine why. Ciara was a delight.

In the end, Edgar could only shrug. It was Myrddin's loss. He wouldn't stress over the opinions of uncultured paranoid fools. And he was sure Ciara would ignore them just the same. Myrddin may have been an intriguing curiosity, but he could hardly hold a candle to Edgar's Faerie Maiden. Edgar was fully prepared to dismiss Myrddin out of hand in favor of Ciara. Only… it seemed he wouldn't have to.

Upon entering the secured room, Myrddin relaxed. The tension — almost to the point of twitching — drained out of him. Edgar raised an eyebrow at the phenomenon. It seemed half natural and half set upon Myrddin from the outside. Or, more accurately, set upon him by the secured room itself.

At first glance, there was nothing particularly special about the room. It was unique, most certainly, but none of the physical furnishings and decorations should've caused the oddly relaxing phenomenon that affected Myrddin alone. Yet, to Edgar's senses, there was more to their new locale lying just under the surface.

Vaguely separated into two sections, the first half of the room was nothing more than a comfortable lounge. A tea table, a couch, and all the modern human accessories that Edgar was quickly becoming used to. The other half extended away from the lounge, just about tripling the size of the room. It was mostly bare — almost sterile — but a few targets, dummies, and devices decorated the space. Most of them seemed well worn, and the back wall, in particular, looked as if it was used to taking a beating.

The moment he stepped over the threshold, Edgar knew what he was entering. The secured room wasn't simply a room. It was a wizard's lair. But only just. In the same way that Myrddin and his Shard were barely brushing up against magic, the room was barely brushing up against the concept of a true magical domain. The air within bore only the thinnest wisps of Myrddin's claim on it, but in an otherwise magicless world, the effect was noticeable.

It was bare beginnings. Hardly acceptable for any true mage or wizard. A proper Wizard's Tower was as far removed from this space as Myrddin was from that Merlin fellow who Mother told stories of. But for Earth Bet, the phenomenon was wonderfully curious and interesting. Magic did tend to impart trends onto its practitioners. And Myrddin fashioned himself as a wizard. Whether that was his genuine belief or not, Edgar couldn't say. It hardly mattered when Magic touched him, however transient that touch might be. No doubt, the cape didn't even realize what was happening, didn't even realize he was unconsciously (and poorly) attempting to imitate the classic Wizard's Tower. Yet that was exactly why Edgar's interest was renewed, especially as Myrddin relaxed and became more agreeable within his ghost of a lair.

"Yes, magic. That is what I said, isn't it?" Edgar confirmed with a tone of icy dismissal.

Without invitation, he sat himself on the center of Myrddin's couch. He leaned back with his arms spread out across its spine and one leg crossed almost contemptuously over the other. His pose and posture said just as much as his tone. Eve, in her pod, perched herself on his lap, glaring at the mean false-mage man with babyish displeasure.

Dainty and dignified, Ciara joined Edgar and Eve on the couch, turning her nose up at their host. Fortuna rolled her eyes but sat herself on his other side. Dragon stayed standing, intent on acting as a sort of mediator, but even then, she drifted toward them on the couch. The wisps of Myrddin's pseudo-claim tried to protest but fell utterly short of doing anything. Edgar was half-tempted to crush them without a second thought, but he held off for the moment, waiting to see if Myrddin would rediscover his manners in the calming comfort his 'domain' offered him.

And he did, wincing, "Ah… I've been rather rude, haven't I? I fear I haven't been acting myself, letting my concerns get the best of me… I'd like to apologize for that. To all of you. I've been a poor host. Please don't let my conduct reflect badly upon Chicago or the PRT here in your minds. While I obviously feel that my concern was justified, I should've trusted my friend more. Dragon doesn't let people down easily."

"Aww, Myrddin…" Dragon cooed.

Edgar gave Ciara a nudge and raised a brow, "Ciara?"

"Hmph," Ciara nodded curtly. "It's acceptable. Be warned, though, Myrddin. I will not take kindly to suspicions that I've hardly warranted."

"Hardly… warranted…?" Myrddin looked at Ciara queerly. "On that, we'll have to agree to disagree."

He shook his head and perked up with sudden energy, "But more importantly…! Magic~? You sound so sure of it, Raven Prince. I am, of course, but it's a rare person who recognizes-…"

"You're only just barely using magic," Edgar cut him off with a blunt deadpan. "Calling yourself a true magic user — mage, wizard, whatever — would be a disgrace on any other world. On Earth Bet, you're somewhat impressive. Anywhere else, anywhere more connected to the flows of magic, you'd be lucky to be considered a curiosity."

"O-Oh…" Myrddin twitched. "Well, you can 'say' that, of course. But it's a matter of belief, isn't it? The truth of the world and its eccentricities is often hidden from us. Thus, what matters most is what we believe."

"It really isn't," Edgar shook his head firmly. "Magic is real, and you're rather terrible at it. I suppose posing as you have for so long has given you a fair few misconceptions and a slightly inflated sense of ego."

Myrddin twitched again, "… I wouldn't say I have much of an ego. Misconceptions? Yes, most certainly. But then, what belief doesn't?"

"I'll give you that, at least," Edgar nodded, conceding the point.

"Belief is simply belief," Myrddin smiled a genial smile that looked out of place without the usual wrinkles that would accompany such a thing. "Does there truly need to be anything more to it? I declare myself magic; you declare me almost magic, and others would think we're both mad. Yet, at the core of it, we all believe in something."

"Uh, Myrddin…?" Dragon interjected. "Raven Prince actually is magic, though."

Myrddin blinked. He looked utterly nonplussed by the assertion of magic coming from anyone who wasn't him, much less coming from Dragon. Edgar got the impression that Myrddin had simply been happy to find a kindred spirit, someone to join him in his 'belief'. Dragon's statement must have changed that. Now, he stared at Edgar with a sort of dawning confusion. Edgar stared back at him, raising a single imperious eyebrow.

His subordinate Revel was the one to break the staring match, "Not that I distrust you, Dragon, but do you have any proof?"

"Why should I have to prove myself to you~?" Edgar drawled. "As Myrddin claims, it's a trial of belief, isn't it? Believe in magic, don't, it hardly matters to me. I know my truth."

"If it helps, he's not a parahuman, Case 53 or otherwise," Dragon said. "Not even human, really. Not from Earth Bet or any other Earth, either."

"What… are you… then?" Myrddin asked slowly.

Not willing to get up, Edgar nodded his head in a facsimile of a grand bow, "Edgar dè Brân, Raven Prince of the Fae Winter Court. Hear my truth and know that I can tell no lies…"

"Oh… Oh, that can't be good at all…" Myrddin paled.

Revel's eyes crinkled in confusion, "What, like a fai-?"

Myrddin stopped her question, quite literally putting his hand over the mask that covered her mouth and lower face, "Don't-!… I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you, Revel. I can't say for certain, but if the stories are true, I'd rather we not do anything that could give offense…"

Ciara smirked, "Hmm, it seems you are not entirely devoid of wisdom, pseudo-mage."

"Indeed," Edgar agreed, smirking as well. "He's not very well-trained, but that can be solved with a bit of grit and gumption."

"Do you think he would be worth the effort, my Prince?" Ciara asked, acting as if the subject of their conversation wasn't standing right in front of them.

"True, it would be something of a gamble," Edgar nodded thoughtfully, playing along.

"A pseudo-mage might make for a good pet."

"Do you think we could teach him to do tricks~?"

"For you, my Prince? Anything is possible."

"You flatter me, my dear Ciara, but alas, I fear I don't have the time nor care to spare."

"Your focus would be wasted on him anyway."

"I rather agree. Though, I suppose the oddity of his almost magic could be used to teach Eve some valuable lessons…"

"The Heiress' education should not be neglected."

"Eve~? Have you been paying attention to his Shard as I instructed?"

"Papa~oppa~!"

As the exchange went on, Myrddin and the others simply stared at them. Myrddin looked perturbed to be talked about so frankly without being truly acknowledged at all. The corners of Revel's eyes were crinkled as if she was smiling a strained smile beneath her mask. Fortuna leaned herself back against the couch and Edgar's outstretched arm at some point, looking dead to the world with her hat over her eyes. And Dragon somehow managed to make an entirely mechanical suit look sheepish.

She chuckled, "Eheheh… You, uh, get used to them-…"

"No, you don't," Fortuna interjected. "I'll be worried for my sanity the day I finally do."

Dragon sighed, "Yeah… Edgar and Ciara get along way too well for anyone's comfort but their own."

"Right. Okay," Revel said, her words choppy. "I think that's my personal limit reached. Dragon, nameless hat lady, it was nice to meet you. Myrddin… Good luck."

She took her leave without another word. The departure seemed to be enough to shake Myrddin from his bemusement, though. He turned back toward the three of them on the couch, and a smile slowly began to grow across his face as if he was just then realizing something.

"So…" He began, chuckling. "What exactly would I have to offer for a Fae to teach this old mage some magic? Not my soul, I'd hope?"

"I'm considering it," Edgar sniped back. "But no, your name and soul would be of little real use to me. Of course, the same could be said about most things I could ask of you. Hmm…"

He hummed in thought, trailing off, "… I suppose the only thing of worth I could take from you would be your unique Shard situation. But then, I can just have Eve study that without your permission. It's not like you could reasonably restrict it from me or her."

"That's the second time you've mentioned this 'Shard'," Myrddin noted. "What-?"

"It's not important for you to know," Edgar waved dismissively.

"A-Ah…" Myrddin was obviously not used to being cut off so completely and so frequently.

"If I may, my Prince?" Ciara spoke up. "I would appreciate a magic lesson if you were willing to give it. And I'm certain Eve would as well. Would it be a fair exchange if you thought of it not in terms of the pseudo-mage but us instead?"

Edgar nodded, "Yes, that is much more worth my time. Consider yourself lucky, Myrddin. You may… watch. From the corner of the room."

Dragon's disapproving frown was audible in her tone, "Edgar…"

Myrddin just sighed, "Honestly? I'll take what I can get at this point. I'll do my best not to interrupt, Raven Prince. I'm just happy to be learning."

"Very good. Now, where to begin…?" Edgar pondered, tapping his chin in a show of thought.

"A definition would help things along," Fortuna said.

"Yes, they usually do," Edgar chuckled.

"She has a point, though, Edgar," Dragon pointed out. "I'm still not quite sure what qualifies as magic and what doesn't. Parahuman powers aren't magic. But why not?"

"That ignorance should be easy enough to resolve," Edgar smiled. "The Shards aren't magic because there's no point to them, no narrative. You see, it's quite simple and, at the same time, more complex than I could ever truly express in words. Magic… is a story."

"A story?" Dragon's suit cocked its head like a big mechanical puppy.

Ciara gasped, "A fairy tale…!"

"Indeed, Ciara," Edgar nodded proudly. "That's how I've always seen it, at least. Magic is a story, but not every story is inherently magic. The narrative gives weight to magic. It gives magic — spells or miracles or curses or what have you — themes and emotions and purpose to draw upon. Those things are what make magic magical and not merely physical manipulation. They're what sets it apart from everything else, what makes magic uniquely, consistently special across all of existence. Look for the story behind something — be it a spell, enchantment, phenomenon, or reaction — and you will find its magic."

"Stories have power," Ciara exclaimed in almost breathless awe. "Very real power. And if that's true-…"

Her face scrunched up in concentration. She looked adorable to Edgar's eyes — as if she was trying to pull a muscle and sew without needle or thread at the same time. Still, nothing spectacular happened. No magic answered her call. She strained and tensed and pushed and pulled. She thought and thought until Edgar could practically see cogitation in the air. And still… nothing.

Eve had the opposite problem. There wasn't a thought going through his beautiful baby girl's head. But there was plenty of power. She operated by pure instinct, wrangling energy into shapes to and fro. A dozen different types came and went in an instant. Yet, for all of her inherent power, Eve reached the same result as Ciara. No magic was spawned from her efforts.

"Of course, it does help if you have a pinch of power to call your own beforehand," Edgar said, shrugging.

"So, it's not just the story behind it," Fortuna noted. "Magic is limited to those with the inherent power for it. Mana, magicka, ki, essence, or whatever else it's called."

"And isn't that just a shame?" Myrddin muttered, frowning to himself.

"No, no," Edgar chuckled. "I said power helped, not that it was necessary. A good enough story alone can summon magic into existence. It's just difficult, almost to the point of impossibility, to do things that way, especially for humans. From my understanding, your kind works best with a bit of both but not too much of either. By comparison, the Fae favor story, and something like an Infernal favors power."

"My heiress!" Ciara huffed in frustration after a few moments more of failure. "We must work together. I shall provide the story, and you will provide the power. Together, we shall cast the first native magic that Earth Bet has ever seen!"

"Well, not the first…" Myrddin chuckled half-heartedly. No one believed him, and he was almost completely ignored.

"Hup hup~!" Eve agreed with Ciara's suggestion and urged her onward.

Ciara took strength from the support. Quite literally, as power began to flood her Shard and Ciara in turn. Edgar sat back and watched their first attempt with enraptured senses. He saw his daughter's face pinch and scrunch. She provided a smorgasbord of power for Ciara's purposes, a bit of each energy type that her Shards could muster up. A bit of pure heat here, a spark of lightning caught in a proverbial bottle there, harnessed motion to fill in the gaps, and a touch of mass to hold it all together. The cherry on top of it all made Edgar blink. The smallest of things split and recombined, and Eve liberally sprinkled the resulting energy across her proverbial pile.

"My, my~," He grinned. "Now, isn't that a potent source~?"

"Uh oh…" Fortuna groused. "I don't like the sound of that."

"Say, Dragon~?" Edgar hummed. "What happens if you split the invisible little things that make up everything and recombine them~?"

Myrddin audibly blinked, "Nuclear…?"

"Bad things," Dragon deadpanned. "Bad things happen. Like explosions. And artificial suns. You know, becoming Death, Destroyer of Worlds?"

Edgar tutted, "Well, that isn't a very apt title for Eve. She's to be the savior of worlds, not the destroyer."

Fortuna shook her head in exasperation, "Our daughter plays with nuclear energy like other girls play with dolls."

"O-Oh, fuck…!" Myrddin exhaled explosively. His skin was pale enough to imitate death, and he held onto the nearby table to support his suddenly failing legs. Still, despite all of that, he tried for diplomacy, "Please, uh… Please don't nuke Chicago… I'd never live it down."

"You wouldn't live to live it down," Fortuna sniped.

Edgar chuckled but mostly ignored the pseudo-mage's concerns. They were irrelevant, after all. Myrddin didn't know the truth about Eve. He couldn't comprehend that playing with energy was what she was born to do. Everything the Entities did came back to energy. A bit of this 'nuclear' energy was honestly nothing to Eve in any scheme of things — grand or small.

Eve's energy wasn't technically the 'right' sort. But after a certain point, and with a good enough story, Magic simply didn't care about such things. It wasn't as efficient as Mana or Emotion — Edgar favored the latter for his spells — but it worked. And in the end, that was all that truly mattered, especially for a first attempt.

While Eve supplied the power, Ciara constructed a story from thought and history — the present, the past, and hopes for the future. The story she told was her own. A hopeful and imaginative girl lost her love for life, beaten into conformity by a mundane world. Even when change came, it was false and paper thin. Magic was said to be impossible, but a sliver of her childish hopes and dreams remained deep in her heart. Then, one day, that sliver bloomed and burst back to life. Magic came true, carried on raven's wings, crystalline giggles, and friends… friends who didn't fear her for once…

It was a good first attempt, Edgar thought. But Ciara was inexperienced, and it showed. Her story had no end yet, no direction for the magic within to flow toward. It also wasn't quite synched up with the rest of existence. Finally, it was a touch ambitious. Spelling a whole new fairy tale into existence was no small feat. Ciara was only now taking her first steps.

In a way, she wasn't casting a spell or curse or miracle. She was telling a story to Magic itself. And while she wouldn't see any concrete results from the story she told, Ciara's direct approach more than made up for her inexperienced mistakes. Magic was nothing if not sympathetic. Edgar watched it weave itself into Ciara's story, into her personal existence. One way or another, Ciara's dream of a fairy tale would come true.

Ciara's story was compelling enough for Magic to take notice. More than anything, it resonated through her relationship with magic, with fairy tales, and with everything that broke the mold of mundanity. Ciara failed to provide sufficient direction to the magic that now clung to her story. And so, a direction was dictated by themes, sympathy, and the barest pinch of Fae luck.

Edgar grinned as he saw and felt the effect take hold. Never again would Ciara be chained by conformity. None of them would, for the effect spread past just Ciara, settling over Eve and then the rest of their group as well. They'd never be expected to be 'normal', for such a description didn't apply to them. They were odd and unique and entirely unmundane, just as Ciara had always yearned for, and 'Wasn't that just wonderful?' Magic asked. Edgar warmly welcomed Ciara and Eve's first attempt at magic, proudly pinning it to his chest just as his mother had pinned his first curse to the fridge door.

He could hardly wait to see how that new magical freedom from conformity would affect things, particularly the public reactions they received going forward~…

[Feat: Baby's first spell! +100P, 100P total.]

IIIII

"Tell me, good man, what is good in your fine establishment? What would you recommend?" Edgar asked, his tone surprisingly amiable and open for the moment.

"Can't go wrong with a fine bolognese, sir, cooked slow and long and tended to with care," The waiter grinned. "We keep to the old ways here, ya see? The head chef is from Sicily, and his second is from good ol' Naples. Straight from the old country. Anything they touch, it's like it was made with Nonna's love."

"Nonna? I'm unfamiliar with the term."

"It's Italian for grandmother, sir. A nonna's love can't be beat, but our chefs do their damn best to try. We don't stress ourselves with perfect Italian authenticity here. Don't have to. We remember our roots, but we also can acknowledge where we are nowadays. This country has given the Families much. We'd be ungrateful to ignore its influences."

"Oh, that's simply delightful. I never knew my grandmother. I believe she ran off and got herself stranded somewhere in the Norse Hel sometime during that interesting period when the Viking Age spilled into the Faewilds. The last Mother heard, she'd taken over a good swath of that icy hellscape and was quite content with ruling her queendom in exile."

"… Might I recommend a good red to go with your bolognese, sir?"

Fortuna watched Edgar from across the two-person table, her eyes attentively lidded and a finger absently tracing the rim of her wine glass. She must have looked enthralled. But then, who could blame her? Her baby's daddy was anything but dull. It would have been rude to give him anything but her full attention when she was the one to drag him off for this date night.

Date night with a Fae… What had her life come to? She'd spent her entire life working without break or respite. And now, it simply… wasn't necessary. Her goals hadn't changed, but her responsibilities sure had. No longer did she need to constantly pull strings and silence problems. Now, the Path only needed one thing from her: to be a good mother.

Part of being a good mother — by Fortuna's reckoning — was getting along with the other half of the parenting equation. Luckily, that wasn't much of a chore. Edgar, for as infuriating and stressful as he could be, was extremely personable. Inhumanly charismatic. Downright bewitching in a way that only a Fae could manage. And he was always interesting. The absolute last thing she'd have to worry about around him would be boredom, and that was without even mentioning the chaos of their angel Eve. Fortuna didn't rightly know how, but Eve took after both of them despite sharing none of their actual blood. She was a good girl, with her father's mischief and love for life, her mother's ruthless adaptability and intelligence, and none of her 'grandmother's' inhumanity while also wielding more power than her Eden could've ever dreamed of. Fortuna would never regret choosing to raise Eve, even if she wasn't the key to breaking the Cycle and saving all Earths.

Little Eve was with her big sisters for the moment. She'd certainly never lack support with Dragon and the Fucking Faerie Queen (Maiden) in her corner. They'd been rather agreeable when Fortuna declared the need for some private time with Edgar. Well… mostly agreeable. Ciara's pouting evil eye was vicious. The Path had already said that she'd need to be given the chance for some private time of her own. As if Fortuna needed its help realizing that…

Still, tonight was Fortuna's night. Her first date, strange as that was to think about. And for once, Fortuna didn't have a plan, didn't have a Path. She had the start of one. But it only helped her lay the foundations. The rest of the night and how it went would be up to her.

Fortuna's feelings about the Fae's effect on the Path were decidedly mixed. Mostly, it was a thrilling concept. Edgar kept her on the tips of her toes, always. After so long of following, following, following the Path, that was refreshing in the extreme. But, of course, it was also a major pain in her ass. Fortuna was very used to being in control of just about everything in her life.

Tonight, just about the only thing she controlled was their venue. Fortuna and the Path had chosen it for a reason. It was a rather prominent Italian restaurant, reminiscent of something from a mob movie. That resemblance wasn't a coincidence. Fortuna figured that the best way to keep Edgar's attention for the evening was to take him someplace unique, someplace that would pique his interest.

From the outside, L'amore Dalla Cucina didn't look at all out of place. It was somewhere between high-class and family-style, with a comfortable aura to the place and busy tables. Any layperson would think it was just another Italian restaurant in Chicago, perhaps a good culinary find, but nothing more. Fortuna knew better.

Upon entering, she immediately counted 32 concealed firearms, an additional two dozen weapons of other kinds, and more than enough security to make the PRT hesitate. The Spas-12 shotguns posing as unassuming coatracks didn't escape her notice either. And if the alcohol-soaked rags behind the bar had only one 'intended purpose', Fortuna would eat her hat.

Though it barely looked it, the restaurant was a fortress. And that wasn't even mentioning the intensely competent people who tended to eat there. The Folk of Chicago… In a world of capes, they were a bastion of professionals. Mostly mundane professionals, at that. Fortuna had worked with the Folk at times, and honestly? She'd take them over a good portion of PRT troopers if she was made to choose. There was competence. And then there was Folk competence — the kind of thing bred into the organization since the days of Al Capone and harshly required for a human criminal organization to survive and thrive in an increasingly parahuman underworld.

Fortuna was rather curious to see how Edgar reacted to good ol' human grit, hard-earned experience, and non-superpowered competency. So far, so good, it seemed, though Fortuna was sure he hadn't caught the hints the waiter laid out just by speaking — the accent, mentions of the old country, giving a bit too much weight to the phrase 'Families', concealed carry holster under the unassuming waiter's left arm, etc. Edgar wouldn't have the context to recognize it all anyway. Still, after his undoubtedly strange exchange with Edgar, the waiter left the two of them alone, and Fortuna was the sole focus of Edgar's Fae attention once more.

"You know~…" Edgar dragged out his words with a throaty purr and chuckle. "People are staring~."

Fortuna propped her chin up on her hand, leaning toward him with lidded eyes, "You do tend to attract attention."

"It's not just me they're staring at, my fine Fortuna~."

"Must be the hat. As you're so fond of telling me, it is rather fetching."

"And recognizable, it seems."

"Hmm. Are you talking about Lil' Johnny trying not to shit his pants in the corner? Or perhaps Davide and Kenny doing their best to not cause a scene that would freak out their wives? Is it the infamous Giovanni Falcone? He's currently wondering if his little rat problem would be worth owing the bogeywoman a favor."

"Infamous, is he~? How fun~…"

"Don Alessandro should be paying our table a visit before we leave. It'd reflect poorly on him if he didn't at least greet me in person."

Edgar's grin grew with Fae enjoyment, "Wouldn't it just~?"

"Principles and codes keep the Folk running. It's really just a dozen ethnic and non-ethnic mafias in a trenchcoat. Manners and respect keep things from devolving into bloodshed that they can't afford," Fortuna explained.

"You have no idea how nostalgic that is," Edgar chuckled. "It's how things should be, of course. But I wasn't sure humans had come to the same conclusion. Very cultured. Very Fae."

"I thought you might enjoy it. Of course, it also helps that the food here is amazingly good. I've heard it's the same for the Chinese, Caribbean, and Columbian fronts, but I've always worked the most closely with the Italians."

"Something to explore the next time we're in town, then. I will admit that I'm eager to finally reach our destination. I don't think I understood quite how large this country was when I agreed to a road trip."

Fortuna nodded a touch smugly, "I'm not above saying I told you so."

"I'd be disappointed if you were," Edgar chuckled.

"Still, the trip hasn't been a complete waste," Fortuna said. "I've more than caught up on sleep that I'm used to missing at this point. The break from my usual duties is… nice."

"Do your colleagues miss you?" Edgar asked curiously.

"Undoubtedly. But they'll manage. They're…" Fortuna hesitated. "Largely competent. Now that the world isn't on such a strict time limit, they'll just have to realize — as I have — that much of what we were doing isn't necessary anymore. And honestly, I'm better utilized elsewhere. Especially with the interference you cause, it's best if I stick close to the problem."

"To your Path, yes? How goes the adjustment process?"

"It goes. Progress is slower than I'd like, but I can string at least two steps together. It's the predicting around you that's impossible. Yet my power has never been happier."

"It likes the challenge?"

"Relishes it."

Edgar chuckled, "I suppose you're stuck with me in more ways than one, then."

"Oh no," Fortuna deadpanned. "A vacation and perpetual entertainment in the form of Fae madness. Whatever will I do?"

"Never a dull day for the Fae~," Edgar singsonged. "Not since I started my adventure, at least. Before that isn't worth mentioning. I'm simply glad to have found my fun again, and if I can spread some of it to my treasured companions, I'll continue to do so with glee."

"Joy," She snarked. "I'm fated to live in interesting times."

"And isn't that just the dream~?" Edgar grinned.

The conversation hit a natural lull after that as their food arrived, and they ate. Edgar seemed to enjoy his first taste of Earthly cuisine, and it was as good as Fortuna remembered. Few people made better pasta than the Italian mob. Here and there, they would snipe at each other playfully. 'Flirting,' Fortuna thought. 'The bogeywoman is flirting.'

That was about how the rest of her night went. It was… enjoyable. Fortuna had never thought that she would be the type to enjoy a simple dinner date. Perhaps it all came down to the company she kept. She could feel her rapport with Edgar developing. And she didn't feel the need to fall back on the Path once.

Eventually, as they were leaving the restaurant, Fortuna felt the need to raise an important question, "Edgar? What are we?"

"Would you like the flowery, poetic answer or something a bit more straightforward?" Edgar asked earnestly.

"Straightforward…" Fortuna answered. "With perhaps a touch of poeticism."

"I appreciate the honesty," Edgar chuckled. "Now, it's undeniable that we're tied together in some way or another. A relationship will always be written between us in the sidereal stars. It's simply destined. But what form that relationship takes is entirely up to us.

"I will freely admit that I desire you, Fortuna. A very real part of me wishes to be one with the mother of my only daughter. I would hope that I'm equally attractive to you. Your namesake brought us together, and you were the first thing to truly pique my interest in this world. You, Fortuna, smiled upon me, and I knew nothing else would be the same again. You helped give me something I could never have imagined. I shall treasure Eve until my dying days and then a bit longer should she require me. So it's only right if I pay you back in full for your gift. Name your price, Fortuna~ Anything you ask shall be yours~…"

He drew closer as he spoke, crossing the distance between them as if it was nothing. Fortuna found her world narrowing down to Edgar and Edgar alone. The restaurant and street faded to nothing but darkness, a million starry lights shining through cracks in some imaginary firmament. Fortuna's mouth went dry. Her heart beat and beat and beat, drumming to an unseen crescendo. And at the tipping point, the Path abandoned her, not even trying to help. Fortuna was on her own, faced with a Fae offering her the world and anything she could desire.

Fortuna swallowed around a sudden nervous lump in her throat, "A, uh, kiss would be a good place to start, I think."

Edgar smirked, cupping her cheek, "Then I shall bring down the stars between our lips~."

The stars around them seemed to descend with his declaration. The Raven Prince leaned down into her space. His free hand found her hat, moving it to block the view of their kiss from the restaurant. It was the sort of thing a movie director would dream of. Fortuna found her eyes squeezing shut involuntarily. Fluttering butterflies overtook her stomach. Without the Path, she felt lost. Yet the moment their lips touched, Fortuna knew she was found again.

It was sweet and soft — gentle and genuine in a way she would've never expected from a Fae Prince. As always, Edgar blew past her expectations as if they weren't even real. A crisp breeze, laughing ice bells, and the paradoxical warmth that could only come from winter kissed Fortuna. She found herself drawn along for the ride, chasing after that Fae warmth. The hand on her cheek tilted her head upward and drew her ever-inward. Fortuna found her hands seeking to match the intimacy, one clutching at the feathers of his cloak and the other winding its way up into his hair.

The hand in his hair brushed past the tips of Edgar's Fae ears. The touch actually managed to make him jump and falter. His ears flicked and fluttered. Fortuna relished his surprise, grinning into their kiss. She was quick to take advantage of the opening, light fingers tracing sensitive pointed ears. The way he just about melted against her was intoxicating.

After a kiss that felt like forever, they parted to heaving chests and lidded eyes. The world returned to Fortuna's mind with a rush. The look Edgar gave her could've raised the dead, thawed through a blizzard, and single-handedly fulfilled her life's work. Faced with those Fae eyes, Fortuna imagined that even Eden would find her avatar weak in the knees.

Yet they were aimed and intended solely for her. The thought brought a grin to her face, mischief pulling at pleasantly swollen lips. One more time, Fortuna's fingers caressed Edgar's sensitive ears. Like before, he twitched. Revenge was sweet. And the stiffness she felt pressed against her stomach was very, very promising~.

"Turnabout is fair play," She said, smirking.

"Is it now~?" Edgar asked.

The purr in his voice sent thrills to Fortuna's core. Unfortunately, they were still very much in public, and that fact was quick to make itself known again. It started with a wolf whistle. Then came a genuine, no-joking round of applause. It was the sort of thing that would never be believed if Fortuna ever felt like telling this story. 'And then everyone in the Italian mob front restaurant clapped,' Fortuna nearly snorted. 'Yeah, why not?'

Edgar righted her hat on her head, and Fortuna decided it was best to simply ignore their audience. Her reputation might take a hit, but honestly? Fortuna couldn't bring herself to care. They'd keep their mouths shut. After all, who would believe them? The bogey-hat-woman? In love?! Preposterous!

'And isn't it just?' Fortuna thought, sharing a little amused smile with Edgar as she took his arm.

"So," Fortuna struck up the conversation again as they strolled arm in arm. "Think Eve has managed to burn anything down while we had our date?"

Edgar laughed, "Oh, I can only hope~! She does take after me, and as my mother would tell you, I was a right terror as an infant. One of her favorite stories to tell is of the time when I slipped away from my crib and somehow ended up in a Jabberwocky's jaws~! Mother was livid, of course. And then 'Bang!' — as Mother tells it — and all that was left of the slavering beast was its still-beating heart! They say you never forget your first slaying, but I never remembered mine in the first place, haha~!"

Fortuna listened intently as Edgar eagerly told his story. Her attention never wavered, and they must have made for a romantic sight. Contessa, Cauldron's bogeywoman, smiling indulgently and falling in love… Yes, the very idea was preposterous, indeed…

[Feat: Wooing your Fortuna of the Fetching Hat. +100P, 200P total.]

IIIII

[Feat: Welcome to Brockton Bay. Good luck. You'll need it… +100P, 300P total.]

"Finally~…" Edgar hummed and grinned to himself.

"Finally," Fortuna groaned.

"Finally," Ciara sighed forlornly.

"Fafayig~!" Eve burbled.

"Oh, it wasn't so bad," Dragon broke the streak. "What's a week-long road trip between friends?"

"Indeed, I quite enjoyed our time together on the road," Ciara agreed, nodding. "In a way, I'm sad it's over, even if I knew the destination was inevitable."

"After such an uneventful journey, I believe a little action is well-called for~," Edgar's grin only grew.

"Uneventful, he says," Fortuna deadpanned.

"Action, he says," Dragon played right along with her, matching Fortuna's tone and words.

Ciara nodded along proudly, "And the world wept, entirely unready for our Raven Prince."

Edgar laughed, "Come now, I don't have designs on the entire world just yet~. Just the lovely city of Brockton Bay~! And I must say, it is impressively unimpressive."

"30 years of villains, gangs, and somehow becoming the shithole of Northeast over even fucking Baltimore will do that to a city," Fortuna snarked.

"It certainly has a unique bouquet of Emotion," Edgar mused. "Despair, misery, violence, apathy, hatred, pride — both misplaced and lingering —, and stagnation; all wrapped up in a thick coating of 'business as usual'. And yet, even here, humans still hope, weak and far-between as it is."

"I'm of the belief that there's always hope," Fortuna said firmly. "Somehow, somewhere, someway, true hopelessness doesn't exist. There's always a Path to Victory."

"That's… surprisingly optimistic of you, Fortuna," Dragon commented.

Fortuna didn't roll her eyes, but it was clearly a near thing, "I am working to save all Earths from almost certain doom. You do remember that, yes?"

"Ah…" Dragon chuckled sheepishly. "Well, in that light, your secret optimism should've been obvious."

Fortuna sniped back at Dragon — their unique chemistry quickly taking over the exchange — but quite frankly, Edgar tuned them both out. He absently tossed and caught Eve to keep his hands busy. His attention was quite literally everywhere else but inside the vehicle at the moment though. He'd 'finally' reached the first purposefully chosen destination of adventure, after all. It felt significant. Brockton Bay felt significant. Yes… There was a story to be told here~…

The quest given to him by Marquis was his initial reason for being her. But now, having arrived in the city, Edgar could see himself sticking around for longer than he strictly had to. Several places across the city immediately called out for his attention. A shimmering fortress on the water. A vast, half-sunken barrier. A grand tower cloaked in pristine prestige to hide that it was rotten from foundation to shining spire. A half-dragon's lair, perpetually burning with rage. A snake coiling in an underground burrow. A quaint family home, brimming with power and interpersonal problems. A union in ruin, standing alone and just struggling to keep the lights on. Finally, a single locker that was somehow at the center of it all…

Or at least, it could be. Would've been, if the world had continued on its course without a Fae touch to lead things astray. But then, Edgar grinned, where was the fun in that~?

Still, that was for some time later. Edgar could feel that the locker was only just gathering its narrative significance. Only just building up steam, one could say. While he could peek into why that was, Edgar wasn't one for spoilers. No, he'd let that story — whatever it may be — develop as it would until he came across it naturally. It wasn't like he was terribly invested in a locker he'd never met, after all. And inanimate objects — even ones with narrative significance — tended to be terrible bores.

Edgar's first priority in this new and interesting city was still his quest. Already, he could feel his luck reaching out, tweaking things here and there, and just generally arranging things in Edgar's favor. It was that Fae luck — seen by Edgar through senses beyond mortal ken — that saw a running battle spill into their RV's path.

Edgar watched with rapt interest, seeing everything on the flows of fortune and probability — watching through Luck's eyes. It was only his second taste of the cape battles of this world. Seattle's battle was rather laidback and almost silly. Chicago had been strangely quiet while they were in town. Here in Brockton Bay? Well, everything seemed to have a bit more weight.

A petty grudge drove the running battle that Edgar witnessed from afar. Yet it was no less brutal for that fact. A beast of blades burst through everything put in its path. It was chasing a squad of well-armed, well-organized soldiers, and nothing stayed its blades.

The soldiers diligently covered their retreat, coordinating fire to suppress the beast. Shell casings fell at their feet, yet the beast barely flinched at all. On and on it came. It carved through obstacles like a million heated knives through a world made of butter. Bystanders wisely fled the beast's path to a man, woman, and child. The corner of a building caved in, bricks sliced into an almost appetizing mince. One unlucky car was caught in the beast's path and ripped to shreds only moments after its driver scrambled out of it.

Absently, Edgar noticed Dragon moving to interfere. The two suits carried by her RV began to direct the evacuation of civilians as a matter of priority. Edgar felt like humming a jaunty tune as he stepped out of the RV to join the fun. Ciara, of course, joined him. Fortuna made herself comfortable in the RV's passenger seat, kicking her feet up on the dashboard to watch the show. Edgar could feel Eve pouting as her mother kept her close at hand.

Something unseen and unheard chimed, getting Edgar's attention. His luck happily informed him that it'd done something important. Edgar gave it a little pat on the head for its efforts. As he did, he saw what it was so excited to show off. A figure of white and gold came flying into the scene, tracking the trail of destruction the beast left. It revealed itself to be a picturesque young woman, almost divinely beautiful and radiating an aura of awe and fear.

She was far from truly divine, but she did a half-decent job of faking it, Edgar thought. She also wasn't alone. In her arms, she carried another young woman, this one clad in red and white. She didn't have nearly the same aura as the woman carrying her, but she held Edgar's attention much longer than the first. Her emotional cocktail was simply delicious~…

The delicious little snack was dropped off by her radiant carrier, and quickly made her purpose there clear. A healer, Edgar noted, watching her every move with intense eyes and the ghost of a smirk on his lips. The radiant cape also made her purpose clear a few moments later, flying right into the fray to slam into the bladed beast.

With the aid — intentional or not — the soldiers turned to stand their ground. They arranged themselves into a formation and brought the tubed attachments beneath their rifle barrels into play. Grinning to himself, Edgar brought himself into play as well, his hand waving and fingers fluttering as probability and misfortune played to his whims.

*WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP* The underslung grenade launchers sounded off. With the volley, the soldiers seemed to make their first mistake of the running battle. Not a single grenade landed, all five of them going wide in ways that shouldn't have been possible, especially from trained professionals. Edgar indulged the drama of the moment, making the source of improbability clear for anyone with eyes to see.

Two grenades went here, two went there, and the last one slipped perfectly between the radiant woman and bladed beast. And in a stroke of coincidence, not one of them went off. There were no explosions and no ducking for cover. Instead, the grenades… bounced. They bounced off surfaces they had no business bouncing off. Glass, steel, concrete, and brick all became grenade-bouncing trampolines as all five explosive rounds danced along impossibly improbable paths of pure chance.

For a long, long moment, everyone simply stopped and stared at the bouncing bombs. The lead soldier was the first to break the stunned silence, swearing up a blue streak.

"God fuggin' dammit, Stripes, you shithead! Howthafuck did you manage to fucking give all five of us fucking duds?!"

"Weren't me, Sarg! Simple n' I live-fired 'em in the range this morning, and they worked then!"

"Uh, boss? I think it's cape shit."

"Fuggin' course it is…"

"Edgar!" Dragon hissed, her smaller suit landing next to him. "Are you making probability and physics your bitch now?!"

Edgar nodded matter of factly, "That is, indeed, what we're doing. Ciara? Be a dear and catch the blonde doll here in a moment, will you? I have the oddest feeling that she'll need a soft landing."

"As you command, my Prince."

As if right on cue, the radiant blonde lashed out at the steel beast again, resuming the violence. At the same time, all five of the bouncing grenades converged on one spot… Right beneath the beast's steel snout. All at once, they detonated, and a superpowered fist caved in two dozen blades. The resulting explosion left both parties flying away from each other, one with considerably more force than the other.

The beast was blasted up, up, and away. It flew to the point of absurdity, catching just the perfect wind. In mere moments, it was nothing more than a glinting speck in the sky. Its doppler-ing howl — a sound of screaming steel — was very satisfying to Edgar's ears. Ciara caught the other party as he'd requested, and Edgar was happy to see that she was — luckily — dazed but unharmed.

[Feat: Team Nazi blasting off again! +100P, 400P total.]

Edgar nodded to himself at the System's notification, satisfied that the hostilities were over for the moment. Thus, he could turn his attention to much more interesting (read: delicious~) things. His eyes sought out the healer, and he grinned a Fae grin.

"You~… Come here, delicious little snack~," Edgar purred. "I have… need of you~"

She stared at him like prey, pupils dilating wide in her eyes. It only added to her appeal. My, my~… That complicated, repressed knot of emotions. Did anyone else know how deliciously twisted she was~? Why, Edgar could just eat her right up~! And if his luck was anything to go off of, he'd get the chance, for she was exactly why he'd come to this city in the first place~…

Unfortunately, it was not to be. Not right then and there, at least. Her radiant companion recovered and swooped right in to delay Edgar's fun, shouting as she whisked away the delicious treat of a girl.

"Stranger danger, Ames!"

"Dammit, Vicky, no! Hot goth dude trumps stranger danger every time! Take me back!"

"Stranger! Danger!"

Edgar allowed his voice to be carried on the wind after them, "I'll find you again, Amelia Claire Lavere-Dallon~… My luck never fails. Until next time~…"