Doll Faces and Black-Markets (CADMUS, MEDEIA, IDÉS)

Monday may 15th, late afternoon, an overcast and windless day
The Black Market
@Cadmus @Medeia


It had been a regular work day for Idés up until he had received the message from Cadmus about a curious Zeal he had gotten his hands on. He had gone to headquarters fairly soon after with very little equipment on hand, thinking that identifying the object wouldn’t take much longer than 30 minutes max. That would leave him time to do a check in on the situation with Gwyn and Dominic, before he could leave to get back to work.

Needless to say, it wasn’t just a one and done investigation. He had never come across anything quite like it before. The Zeal itself was in the shape of a porcelain doll with long black curls, which was in itself incredibly unnerving. The properties of it were unclear, but it clearly wasn’t a toy or anything meant to give anybody any sort of comfort. It did quite the opposite. It was omitting some sort of ominous energy upon touching it, sort of like the laic-orb he was currently studying back in his laboratory, but it didn’t have the same vibrating sensation of excess energy that those kinds of unstable Zeals usually had. What was even more unusual was that when he had tried to get the frequency of emission from the handheld zeal-powered device he had brought along, the device had simply shut down and refused to work as if the doll-shaped-Zeal itself was working against the piece of technology. The most unnerving part, however, was how it reacted when exposed to any kind of magical energy. It sucked it in greedily, almost like a black hole, which bared an uncanny resemblance to the sort of Zeals that made necromancy a technical possibility. An incredibly taboo topic and a very dangerous reality that Idés had only ever read about. It reminded him of a novel they had read back in high school about a warlock trapping the soul of another warlock in the shape of a toy, but he quickly shook the thought. Such a thing should not be possible.

The doll had definitely not been produced in an EZPEC either, which left the only option that this had been handmade. Which should be impossible with an item that felt this powerful. Impossible to all except one person, believed by many to be a myth. Which was why the two men were currently entering the black market, in search of the Witch of Erast. The doll was stored away in a bag, but even with it out of the way it was hard to shake the feeling of unrest it brought along with it.

The black market itself was an old square in front of an abandoned church that had been claimed by the people. It was packed with vendors selling all kinds of wares from makeshift booths. If the authorities showed up, the square would be empty within less than a minute. Idés knew that, because this was where he and his friends would sell their products way back in his teens. He frowned slightly at the memory but quickly shook it. Now was not the time to get nostalgic

]He looked around the rows and rows filled with everything from exotic spices, to scammers with dodgily made Zeals, to the shady hardcore criminals willing to do any dark bidding at the right price. You really could get anything here

“She should be here somewhere,” he spoke, as the two men went further into the square. “If the rumors are true.” He was somewhat convinced that he might have met her before, once, in his teens. But the chances were that that could have been like any other scammer on the black market. Or simply another crazed soul roaming the streets of Erast.

"This is my sign to start telling people no when they offer curiosities." Cadmus winched, though the doll was stored safely away in the bag worn by Idés. If Idés himself had not declared it a zeal, Cad might have believed it to be haunted. He was not sure if he believed in ghosts, only this thing seemed otherworldly. She was a terrifying being, the doll, and it had been a relief that Idés had come so quickly. He really didn't want to share a room with the thing. To his disappointment, Idés had not been able to tell him much about the thing. It was a zeal, magic, no ghosts. But maybe cursed?

He would have never gotten so worked up by anything material, if it had not been for the fact that it seemed to drain him. It was not that he was afraid of dying, he wasn't. But he did not think the zeal was trying to kill him, and the endless other possibilities of eternal torture had gotten to him after all. His powers were weaker and his nonmagical resilience? Yeah, that thing was crumbling too. The quicker they got rid of that thing, the better. But curses had to be dealt with wearily. This was a zeal, and they needed a specialist. The mysterious witch of Erast. Cadmus had heard a lot about her. None of it could be verified. Well, if Idés thought she existed and could help them it was worth a shot. He hated feeling this vulnerable.

It was rather sad, for the black market was one of the best places in Erast. The packed marketplace was marvellous; and you could find anything. If you knew who to ask. Of course, you had to be careful, but it was easy to navigate the place when you could see people's intentions in their eyes. When you could sense a lie or a trick by magic. It was less fun today. They were not here to shop for new books about the possibilities of mind control or the history of Nachon hunting. Not here to catch up with friends. He knew he got a lot of business through these people. The man who had given him the zeal might have learned about him this way.

Maybe it was the dulling of his other senses that made him notice it. But he noticed a slight unease. External. Not related to the zeal. But a little bit like it. This unease came from a cloaked figure at a stall a bit away from them. There was something about this unease that told him they had found who they were looking for. "There." He said, matter-of-factly, and approached her. "Ehm. Hi. My friend and I could really use your help."

Deep into the black market of Erast was a little stand with various trinkets laid out on exhibit. Behind the stand stood a cloaked figure. A person whose face was covered in the darkness of the hood of the cloak. If you really thought about it the hood was too much small to shroud the whole face in darkness, was it a zeal behind it? A young woman was purchasing something from the cloaked figure, an ordinary looking ring. “Wearing this shall bless thee with the necessary fertility you seek” Medeia said, her voice obscured and eerie in the way that it sounded like three people spoke at once. The young woman looked slightly creeped out whenever the witch spoke. “Thank you ma’am” she said warily as she handed over the money before quickly getting away. The witch waved as the woman walked away as she grew silent. Her mind lost in her own past at the thought of children. Medeia never got to fully experience the motherhood she had so desperately looked forward too the day she had found out she was with child.

She felt the energy of the zeal before the man spoke. She glanced at the two men who now stood before her stand. “My help?” She spoke with the same eerie voice of three. “Has it anything to do with the energy I feel from your bag?” Medeia inquired as a pale slender finger poked out from the cloak, pointing at the bag the scrawny one was carrying. “ Though before I aide you two, I will have to know who you are sir.” She stated as she then held her hands together. Medeia felt the energy of the zeal, it was familiar to her and she had a slight idea what the zeal was without even having seen it. However she couldn’t risk helping these two without knowing who they truly were and who they worked for. They looked nothing like the person who had ordered the zeal years ago, for all she knew they were government officials trying to arrest her. Medeia glanced from the one who had spoken to the other. Her defenses was on high alert, she might not look like it but she was ready to make run for it and disappear deep into the shadows of Erast if needed. She never fully trusted men, not after what he done to her.

It might just be the energy from the doll he was carrying in his bag, but Idés did feel a deep sense of unease in his gut when the women spoke. He couldn’t tell if this was the woman he had met before or not. Granted, from the fogginess of the memory it was safe to say he probably hadn’t been sober back then. But there was something about her that made his blood pump slightly faster and the hairs on his neck rise. They definitely had the right person, at least.

He took a breath, trying to shake the sense of unease with looking for something very tangible. His eyes scanned over her quickly. Knowing what he knew now it was safe to say she was using quite a few Zeals to achieve anonymity. From the way her voice was split in three, to the cloaking off her face, it was all quite unsettling but also quite genius in its own way. It seemed she was using the taboo surrounding Zeals to her benefit. People were bound to find what she was selling spooky, which added to the mysticism of it all. But of course there was a logical explanation to most things, including whatever the Zeal in his bag was. He just didn’t have the necessary knowledge about the process of handcrafting Zeals to properly examine it. It was excellent craftsmanship when you thought about it, really.

He felt silly, being intimidated by what was akin to carnivalistic tricks. Smokes and mirrors, really. He wasn’t a very spiritual man when it came down to it. He had spent too much time studying the nature of energy to actually believe in much that wasn’t just what was clearly visible. Although, everything discovered did also usually come with a larger frame of philosophical implications and that was something he didn’t spare much thought to, unless he wanted to lose his mind for a solid hour. Straight recordable facts were easy to understand, because that always came with straight forward answers, he supposed. He’d rather leave the philosophy in capable hands of people like Cadmus.

Idés was the first to speak. “Hi, yes, uh. I’m Idés. Lynn Chapmann. I’m a professor in energetic engineering from the IUC.” Why he was introducing himself by full name and profession he didn’t know, but the woman was throwing him off. “This is my friend, Cadmus. He, uh, had a client drop off a strange Zeal earlier today.”

In a purely objective matter, Cadmus supposed the witch of Erast was eerie. There was something off and unsettling about her, which he attributed to the use of zeals. He knew a bit about disguises. Not very much. And not nearly enough to explain what this woman had done to hide herself. Yet he could appreciate the cleverness of it. Even though she emitted the same energy as the doll, he was less afraid of her. She was, behind it all, human. For once, that was all he was able to pin down. Not even her voice gave anything away. This existence, he pondered, was bound to be rather lonely. He might have done the same. Altered himself to the unrecognisable. But there was a bittersweetness in looking yourself in the mirror and seeing the people who had once loved you. Another reminder. Change would be to forget.    

Who was he? When Idés introduced them, he glanced around the stall, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he admired the wares. Who did such a situation call for him to be? At that moment he was no one. Torn from what small piece of integrity he had. It was a good thing Idés barely knew either. What was he thinking blurting out his identity like that? If she was the one who had made the doll, he was not so sure he wanted anything else from her. Of course, with the exception of her help.

"Look, I appreciate that it's a piece of art and great craftmanship and what not, but I am not sure I want to own this thing."

Idés had handed him the bag with the creepy zeal, and he placed it in front of the witch and took out the doll.

"What is this thing?" He shivered. "And why."

Medeia relaxed a bit when Idés introduced himself. Though she wasn’t quite sure why he revealed his whole identity to her, quite the dangerous thing to do in these parts. His name she had heard before, or well the controversies surrounding his views on zeal. That fact deemed him safe in her eyes for now. When his friend, Cadmus placed the familiar doll in front of her. She picked the doll up with no fear in her movement turning it around  and stroking the familiar small runes on the back of the doll. “Aah this one I remember” She said. “I made it many moons ago, when I first started my craft here in the city” She stated. “Though I wonder how it ended up with you” She said as her pale grey eyes glanced at him from under the hood. “This doll is tied very closely to its owner” Medeia continued, almost going on a tangent to tell the story of the zeal, she was quite passionate about them, maybe this one more so than the others. “It was a gift from someone who loved her dearly” She spoke, stopping herself from going off topic, as well as avoiding the feelings that the doll brought up in her.

The doll was made by Medeia for a very special person in her heart, her daughter. She held the doll as she stared at it. Wait, something felt wrong. The doll still felt like Medeia and her craftsmanship, the original protection spell still there, yet it was distorted into something else, however there was a faint feeling of someone else on the doll. “Professor of zeals, did you alter this doll in anyway?” She questioned, her voice more serious this time as she turned the doll around and around, searching for something. Handmade zeals were delicate to change made by anyone else than the original creator, the results could be very much dangerous. “Though if zeals are your expertise, you’d be wiser than to mess with them, though who knows when it comes to handmade ones” she mumbled out loud as she kept searching the doll for any sign of tampering.

Wait! Right there, a tiny, barely noticeable scratch had been made to one of the small intricate detailed runes on the small back of the doll. Medeia stopped her movement as she stared at the rune. She traced her finger over it as she carefully studied it. The scratch would at first seem accidental, but to anyone with a trained eye like Medeia, who knew runes like the back of her hands knew this was on purpose to alter the rune, giving it a completely new meaning. This new meaning was a dangerous one indeed. “Well you two made the right decision bringing it here” Medeia finally said after minutes of silence. “The runes have been altered” She stated. “Where did you get this?” She questioned them, growing more suspicious of them. By now she had dropped any antics in the way she spoke, being way too curious on who had dared to mess with her zeals.

The nerves he had felt before seemed to evaporate, when the topic started revolving around the Zeal itself. After all, this fell out of his area of interest and information on the nature of hand making Zeals were scarce within the research that had been done in an academic context. Most experts would explain it away as a spiritual practice in some religions and that they were inherently less potent than a lab-made one, which was true to some extent as a single warlock would never be able to emit the same energy as a machine. But it also meant that if one was crafty, knew their way around runes and learned to use the inherent energy that was around everywhere, then that could still make way for a very powerful tool. The two methods had different properties and one was not well understood.

“I’ve only tried to get an emission frequency from the Zeal, but it seems the energetic pull broke my device,” Idés explained as he watched her study the doll. He did briefly wonder if all her Zeals had an inherent trait that made them harder to detect on the kind of technology he worked with – and if so, how that came to be – but for now he was fairly certain it was the way the Zeal sucked any kind of energy it could get, that had made the device break. As the device itself had been powered by a Zeal, it was likely that it had simply been drained off its magic. “We haven’t tampered with it, it was like that when he got it.” He wanted to ask what tampering had been done and what that meant for the properties of this cursed object as she studied the runes on the back of the doll, but he also didn’t want to break her focus. There was a gleam of fascination in his eyes.

Then she confirmed that the runes had indeed been altered, which might mean that it had been sabotaged somewhere down the line. He looked to Cadmus as she asked where he had gotten the doll, hoping that he might shed some more light on this mysterious client of his.

Still feeling a bit uneasy, Cadmus watched the witch study the doll. Of course, she already knew it. It was no coincidence that they shared a certain feeling. They were connected in that way, and the witch seemed oddly fond of the cursed zeal.

It turned out Idés had found himself a match in zeal-nerd department. Maybe even his better when she scolded him for tampering with the doll. Cadmus did not really know anything about emission frequencies and what not, but he was sure that Idés was right when it came to one thing; the thing had been like this; eerie and destructive, since they had laid hands on this. Then she declared that the runes had been altered. Someone had done something to the zeal. Had it always been like this? What had its original purpose been, and what did it do now?

When she asked him about how he had gotten the doll, he hesitated. He usually prided himself on confidentiality. What sort of man would he be if he went around sharing the most intimate details about clients? Even if the customer in question had been a weird, unsettling was maybe a better word, he had still trusted Cadmus to keep what he learned about him a secret. He was aware of the witch’s suspicion of them, and how he did not make himself any better by holding back an answer, yet his reply was spoken carefully. "It was given to me, as part of the payment for – well, a job. My work has nothing to do with zeals and I cannot tell you much about how he got it, or why he decided to give it to me. I suppose he just wanted rid of it." With a quick glance at the witch, he added a "Sorry."

In truth, what he had done for the man had no clear connection to the doll. Sure, the memories had been terrifying, the man awful, and Cadmus had seen things he rather wished he could forget, but the doll had not been featured in any of them. Could it be connected to something even worse? With a suspicious look at the thing he asked: "What does it do anyway?"

Medeia glanced at the doll, slightly stroking the hair as Cadmus responded to her. She suddenly stopped her movements and her gaze returned to him when he said he. “He? The doll was for a little girl” She spat, anger rising in her, her suspicions growing more of the two. Did they have a hand in what happened to her daughter? She looked over the two men once more. The professor looked like he couldn’t even hurt a fly, so Medeia put those thoughts in the back for mind. She might be a little too paranoid. Though when he questioned what the doll function was, she glanced back at the doll and slightly stroke the hair again as if she was holding a small babe.

“The doll’s original purpose was to protect it’s owner from harm” She said, her voice sounding softer as her mind filled with memories of her in the middle of the pregnancy making the doll for her daughter. A bittersweet memory for her now. “Though the alteration-“ She continued before stopping at the realization of what had actually happen. Medeia had felt it in her whole being that her daughter was gone from the world, yet had never known how it had happened, until now. She shook her head before continuing on. “Well, now the purpose is to harm the owner” She spoke, her voice cold as her body and soul burned with rage towards him.

“I will ask again, who gave you this?” Medeia asked, more serious in her voice this time. This was a clue for her, it could lead her to him. She might finally get her revenge for all that he had done to her. She glanced between the two men as she waited for an answer.

From the way the woman stroked the hair of the doll to the way she spoke to Idés and Cadmus, it was clear to see that this was very personal for her. Idés awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to the other, burying his hands in his pockets. He knew it was unlikely that Cadmus would tell this woman any further detail off his client, especially in a crowded place like this, which Idés really ought to have considered himself sooner. But it was also clear to see that this woman definitely wouldn’t let this go either. Which made sense if someone had been out to intentionally harm a child – her child, maybe? But it all served for a pretty tense situation now. Idés himself, well, he was really just mostly curious about the Zeal. He didn’t know this woman but it seemed she knew her craft well.

Idés glanced around at the booths around them. The woman’s tone seemed to draw the attention of a few curious eyes. And although no one stopped, it was likely that someone would be eavesdropping, which didn’t really help anyone in this case. Idés rubbed the back of his neck as he picked his words.
“I think,” he started. “This might not be the best place to figure out this whole situation.” He gestured to the eerie dark haired doll. He glanced over at Cadmus as he wasn’t sure whether to suggest they move location or not. If Cadmus did not want to share anything – which he had every right not to– then they would still be at the same standstill. But it did seem this woman actually needed their help. That was something Idés had a hard time denying people, even if this technically wasn’t his problem.

The stroking of the doll's hair was a little bit creepy. It only added to the feel of it as something alive. He knew he was being irrational. Yet Cadmus for once found it hard to believe the whole, 'it's all in your head'-thing. He took an instinctive step backwards when the witch spat, and an annoyed passer-by shot him a sour look. "Yeah," he said, moving back closer to the stall, now trying to keep an eye on both the doll and the one handling it. "I suppose the doll changed hands." Since the man had definitely not been a little girl. He did not understand why she was so upset, until she mentioned the purpose of the doll, and he reacted with a very weak; "Oh."

Somehow, he felt like he should apologize. Like it was his fault that the doll was no longer protecting whoever it had been made for. The girl must have been someone very dear to her. And the stroking of the hair suddenly got less creepy. It was a sad gesture. He didn't know what to say. The presence of the doll made it hard to concentrate. So many thoughts. Images. Things to avoid thinking of. Some of them were other peoples. He had no right to relive those. Some of them were his own. Those were the worst. He had no warm feelings toward the thing that was doing this. And as he learned what the alteration had meant it made sense. He was not being paranoid, not being weak, stupid, whatever. The thing was harming him, and he had a right to be mad. Well, no, he reminded himself, crossing his arms, keeping the doll away and hugging himself, he never had the right to be angry. "Can you get it to stop?" He said, without thinking, ignoring her question, instead gesturing to the doll. Maybe if he knew who she was looking for he could say whether that had been the man?

"Idés is right too. We should not discuss personal information here. I am sure we can help you with – whatever it is you think we know. Just – not here. And without the doll? Please?"

When the two men pointed out that this was perhaps not the right place to discuss this, Medeia glanced around and noticed the stares the trio was getting and she calmed down a little, realizing how she might have been a bit irrational. “Make it stop? Of course” She said as if she hadn’t been moments away from yelling at them. She grabbed a small tool from behind the counter, it looked worn and well used. She turned the doll around as she started to use to tool to scrape away some of the runes. When she was done she placed the doll back down in front of them. “There, the doll is now harmless” She stated as she looked at the two men again. The doll still faintly gave of energy, though now it was just the residue of Medeia’s powers on the doll. Both the old and new function of the zeal no longer worked.

“Now, where do you want to discuss things further?” She asked more quietly as to not let any other passerby hear them, her northern accent more noticeable now that she had long since dropped the witch facade she usually wore. Medeia was not going to let them drop the whole thing and get away before she got her answers. This was the first lead she had in a while and she was not going to let it go this time. And perhaps their help could be useful, though that was yet to be seen. Medeia was going to do something she usually didn’t do, she was going to give these strangers a chance. Perhaps they would surprise her or perhaps they won’t, she would never know unless she gave them this chance. All for her daughter and the justice that needed to be served.

The woman scraped away the runes and just like that, the malicious energy lifted. The strong feeling of dread dissolved and it was like the air around the booth suddenly got easier to breathe. He tried not to let it show, but he was more than a bit disappointed that he didn’t have the opportunity to study the runes closer. He rarely ever carved anything by hand when the EZPEC could handle that fine on its own, but if a simple tweak could change the outcome so drastically, perhaps this was the key to understanding everything he was currently working on. He was definitely going to read up on rune-based magic when he got back to campus.

But at least both Cadmus and the woman had agreed to taking the conversation elsewhere. That certainly made it a lot easier to figure out who had sabotaged the Zeal, if the two men were even able to help her with that. The question just remained, where to? Idés knew Erast like the back of his hand and there were plenty of options. Now, the privacy of a home would be ideal, but that was off the table. He did have an idea, though, it was a questionable establishment.

He briefly glanced at Cadmus. Of course, such a place did also draw attention to Idés’ more colorful history, of which he hadn’t shared much with his fellow EFA members. Why would he? It was in the past. But it really was the best place for them to go right now and he trusted Cadmus to keep his secrets. Besides, he had a feeling Cadmus would enjoy this place. Then there was the woman, who he had already revealed too much of his life to, but it was too late to change that. Besides, she needed their help and simply knowing a half-shady location didn’t amount to much.

Then he nodded, mostly to reassure himself. He would be fine. “I know where we can go,” he then said. “Follow me.”

He led the group out of the bustling market, out through the main streets of Erast, then continued in the southern directions through the backstreets. He glanced behind him every so often, just to make sure no curious market goer had followed them.

Then on to the infamous Baker Lane, and further on down a remote alley near the old laundromat that Idés knew so well. And then, here in the middle of nowhere he stopped before a door, with a sign overhead that read ‘Asneau’s Tea-House.’ He entered, holding the door open for his companions.

The place was a classical Boririan tea-house right here in the middle of Illomar. Inside there was a rich scent of incense and herbal tea in the air. Stained glass hung from the ceiling lamps, catching the light and projecting images onto the floors and the tapestries decorating the walls. There were huge plants all around the tables, most of them empty except for one where an old man sat reading a five month old issue of The Cirrane Press Society. Other than him, the three, and an elderly lady, the place was empty.

“Wait here,” Idés said. He approached the counter where the elderly lady was working. He spoke to her, slipping her a bit of cash as he did. She took it, the whole transaction subtle enough to be missed by the untrained eye. The old lady then went to the back of the room and Idés gestured for his companions to follow.

They were then led into a big backroom which was clearly where most of their business came from. Curtains covered walled in booths, giving the occupants some privacy, most of them seemingly in use. The old lady gestured to a booth in the corner. Before the three even had a chance to settle down in the plush seating, the old lady had returned with a teapot, three cups, a small platter with sugary cakes, and an odd golden apparatus. She poured them their tea, an aromatic and earthy scent filling the small room. Then she took the apparatus and winded it up with a key, before placing it back on the table.

“One hour,” she spoke, her voice stern.

Idés nodded. “Thank you.” The lady drew the curtain and the three were left in the privacy of their booth. He took a sip of his tea, savoring the taste. This specific blend had the traditional phofine powder added to it, an edible type of zeal that had both a calming and an energy increasing effect. The perfect remedy against the energy depleting doll they had just been dealing with. On the edge of their table was a menu containing the types of additives you could get in your tea, the phofine being one of the few legal options.

Then Idés tapped the apparatus.
“Sound insulating Zeal,” he explained. “Now. Let’s figure this out.”

It would have been difficult for Cadmus to explain exactly what he felt at that moment, when the witch scraped off the runes. It was not an instant relief. He still felt weak. The images were still there, but now fading. It was more like letting go of something heavy, but after having held it for so long that the weight of it is still felt. Or when you stop running and only then realise how exhausted you are. He hadn't realised how tired the doll had made him.

With a spinning head he glanced at Idés. Maybe Cadmus was wrong, but didn't the man look almost sad? It would not be surprising if Idés thought the zeal the most interesting thing he had seen in a while. They would have to disagree on that.
He was still looking at Idés when the topic landed on where they should go. He probably knew someplace. And it turned out he did. Trusting his friend to lead them somewhere, Cadmus followed. The marketplace and streets a bit of a blur as he tried to regain some control of himself. With the doll no longer doing, whatever it was it had done, he was once again overwhelmed by the energy of a large body of people. Shields down, he was happy to be led away from the thoughts and feelings wanting to share themselves with him. He was still working on this when they stopped.

Having lived there the past five years, Cadmus would describe his knowledge of Erast as pretty good. Yet he had never seen this place. ‘Asneau’s Tea-House’ the sign read. Never even heard of it.

The place was impressive. The stained glass, the plants, the tapestries. When he was told to wait, he was glad to get a chance to look around a bit. He was feeling better and could almost appreciate whatever this place was.

Then Idés gestures for them to follow and he did. Being led into a backroom. In contrast with the empty room, they had just left this one was busy. But oddly quiet. He sat down, in a booth and was instantly served tea. It smelled nice.

The old lady had set down some instrument and she winded it up. Some kind of timer? They were left in private; the lady drew the curtains. When Idés took a sip, cad did too. And instantly felt better. When Idés explained the device the silence of the backroom made sense. Interesting. He drank some more tea wondering what was in it to give it it's effect.

"What's the deal with the doll? And why do you want to know who gave it to me?" He asked the witch.

When the professor said he knew where to go, Medeia closed up her stand rather quickly as well as activating some sort of anti-theft zeals. Though few dared to steal from the witch. As the woman followed the two men down the streets of Erast, her long cloaked made it look like she was floating like a ghost, her steps just as silent. Once inside the teahouse Medeia glanced around for a little bit before keeping her eyes on the professor. Eventually they were led into a backroom and to private booths.

Once they were seated and the tea was served, Medeia just took in the scent of the tea, unsure if she dared to drink it just quite yet, instead she decided to wait with her first sip until she could see the effect it had on her companions. While Cadmus asked his question, Medeia took of her cloak, revealing her pale face surrounded by the mess of the dark brown curly hair she had. If she were to trust these guys eventually she might have to give some trust to gain some. She was setting the circle of trust in motion, at least she attempted to do so by revealing her true appearance. Her pale grey eyes then stared at the two men before her.

"The doll was a gift I made" She started speaking, any zeals affecting it turned off, revealing her true voice and unfiltered northern accent, revealing she wasn't originally from the city. "For my daughter to keep her safe" She said with a pained smile. "I assume you know very little about delianism culture" she started to say, she had a feeling that it was safe to tell them about her religion and culture. "It is very usual to give a protective charm to your child when its born, so that the gods know to watch over the child" she explained. Suddenly her eyes filled with a burning rage. "4 years ago my daughter was taken from me by her father" She said, her voice filled with venom and rage and her fist clenched around the tea cup until her joints turned white. "That disgusting man was a coward and deserves Vexta's punishment" She spoke, her voice still filled with anger. "I've only managed to track them to this city where I learned of how the goddess of death found my daughter way too soon" She said, her voice filled with a sorrow and grief only a parent could ever understand. She had purposefully avoided saying her daughter's name, Medeia was still not ready to say it, the pain and grief too big still. She hadn't noticed how she had stared of in the distance while speaking of this.

"Do you understand now why I need to know? Or do you need more?" She asked as her glance returned to Cadmus. She hoped they could hear the unspoken words, that they put two and two together so she did not have to speak more of the things that pained her very soul.

Idés took another sip of his tea as he watched his companions get settled into their seats. Seats, that he once sat in with Samuel and Kevin way back when they were teenagers. The additive they had chosen had been stronger, he remembered them all giggling uncontrollably. He smiled sadly at the memory, before the woman removed her veils and his attention shifted to her. Dark curls framed a pale face that bore a pair of haunted eyes. It seemed to humanize her, now that they had a face to go from. He leaned back and sipped his tea as she started answering Cadmus’ question.

A gift she explained. There was an accent to her voice, which probably meant that she wasn’t from around here. For my daughter. Oh. Idés frowned slightly at that. That malicious energy from the Zeal had been intended to harm her daughter then, probably. He nodded, both to show that he was listening and that he cared. She then started explaining her cultural background, which was also very interesting. Maybe that was how she had come to learn to hand make the Zeals? It made sense, since both delianism and Zeal-usage was such a taboo in society that such practices weren’t wellknown.

Then, just as Idés mind started wondering down a tangent about Zeal-usage within religious practices, the woman’s voice became venomous. He watched the way she grabbed the cup and grimaced slightly, partially out of fear that the fine-porcelain might break in her hands. She really did dislike that man, that much was clear. Then he frowned again, when he told the inevitable fate of her child. That really was terrible.

There was a beat of silence, where the only sound was the vague ticking of mechanics from the Zeal. “My condolences,” Idés offered. It wasn’t much and he couldn’t help her. Cadmus might be able to, but he probably wasn't. But it still felt like someone needed to say it.

After everything, the myths and the strangeness, the question of whether she was even a real person, the Witch of Erast had unmasked. Trying not to choke on his tea or stare too much, Cadmus watched as the cloaked figure in front of them turned into a pale, darkhaired woman. She was a lot younger than he would have expected. Maybe it was the word witch, it had made him think of her as a crone. Although there was still something unsettling about her, she was very far from the ugly, old woman of fairy tales. This reveal, he realised, had to be a show of trust. Not that they had done anything this far to deserve it. Still, he could appreciate it.

Her voice too, was different. No longer distorted, she spoke with an accent. Although it took him a bit to place it, it made sense why she would want to keep it hidden. It was an easy tell. Singling her out as well, not from there. As her story unfolded itself, Cad became less aware of the cup he was holding, taking in the horror and sadness. Later, he realised that he had, of course, known about the delianist tradition of protective charms, a bit disappointed in himself for having not by that point already put together the pieces. But even in this later hindsight, he felt himself excused for having not connected the murderous doll, to something meant as a protection, before the Witch of Erast told them.

Knowing that there was nothing he could say in response to such grief, he put down the half-filled porcelain and met her eyes. His earlier words had been tactless, and he understood what the doll meant to her. What it had to mean. Idés gave his condolences, and too had to say something: "I am so, so sorry." And he was. Neither her magic nor the gods had been able to keep her daughter safe. Death did not care about innocence or fairness. He also got that she would prefer it if they let the subject of dead children be, and without a need to argue he turned his attention to whatever information might help her.

"I cannot tell you the name of the man who gave the zeal to me," It was not that he did not know, he did, but it had been one of those things he did not really have the rights to know about. He had very few rules; The client had to be the patient, no wanting to mess with someone else. He would not kill anyone, or actively cause them any harm. And he would keep whatever he learned about a client a secret. No matter how messed up some of the things he had seen were, he would keep his word. It helped that he had so few personal relations, the chance of learning something someone he knew ought to know was slight. So far it had worked, and he was yet to face any personal dilemmas. "As you also deal in highly illegal trade, I hope you can respect this privacy?"

While he did not want to break this code of ethics, he also wanted to help the woman. Even if what he would be helping her with was something as futile revenge.

"I– we," He looked sideways at Idés, "still want to help you. Just say what you need, I cannot promise anything, but we might be able to do something"

Her gaze never left him as he spoke. "I do" she simply answered to his question. It did however come as a surprise to her that they still wanted to help her, a stranger to them. Medeia didn't say a word for a moment. She was stunned, unsure of what to do or say. She wasn't used to strangers showing such kindness. She glanced down at her hands that had let go of the cup and had subconsciously started picking on the skin around her nails.

"I already have the name of the man who most likely did it" She said after awhile. She was starting to feel vulnerable and she did not like it. It had not ended well the last time she had been vulnerable with someone. However, as if the gods had planned the meeting between the three, she had a feeling that these men might be someone who could actually aid her and someone she could eventually trust.

"Jason Hart" She said with anger, though this anger was different. It was more cold than her previous anger outbursts. The name was probably very familiar to anyone living in Ilomar City. Jason Hart was a charismatic and powerful man. He was known as one of the conservative politicians in this town, perhaps not at the same level as Robert Jenkinson, but he was up there. Jason was seemingly untouchable, a pristine reputation and his charming ways easily winning people over, he had connections everywhere.

"Are you still willing to help?" She asked as she glanced at the two men in front of her. Medeia found it unlikely they were still willing to help. Firstly, would they even believe her? that a man like Jason could do something so horrible? And if they did, would they even dare to help her then? Unafraid of what might befall them if they did? Medeia knew it was a foolish endeavor, yet her soul would not rest until she got somewhat of a revenge, she did not yet know what that would be. Whether it would be him lying cold in front of her with his blood on her hands or her revealing what kind of man the people loved so dearly.

Idés nodded in agreement when Cadmus stated that they were still willing to help her. Of course they were. Revealing her true voice and appearance was already a big show of trust. And as she started picking at her fingers and looked away, it was clear that she was feeling vulnerable with her guard down like this. It did make Idés feel a tad bit sad for her. Powerlessness was an awful feeling.

Jason Hart. He’d definitely read about that guy somewhere, he was one of those big-shots politicians. Idés frowned. That definitely complicated things, high profile people came with high profile problems. He did readily believe that  the man might definitely be guilty of such a thing, though. As an Erast native who had seen first-hand how little they cared for the people, it went without saying that Idés only had limited trust regarding the characters of the people leading the country. It didn’t matter whether their name was Jason Hart, or Robert Jenkinson, or Matthew Hayes. They were in it for power and prestige, no matter the prize they had to pay for that. And the prize often came at the expense of the people Idés cared for the most, and everyone who was growing up like he did. Really, if you came from Erast, democracy was little more than deciding who it was who was going to throw your family on the street or slash the funding to your education – who the executioner ended up being, it didn’t really matter. Every new leader had had plans for ‘fixing Erast’ and all of them had ended up making it worse. At least Idés could live in the knowledge that none of them would last a day out here. He took a sip of his tea as he considered what Medeia had told them.

“Well,” Idés spoke, putting down his teacup and looking at Medeia. There was sympathy in his eyes, but also apprehension. “That depends. What is your goal here?” This had the potential to be very risky for both him and Cadmus. Did she want the man dead? If so, Idés was sure if it wasn’t in their best interest to get involved with. With the recent murder of the prince, the last thing he wanted to do was to endanger another high-profile conservative icon – not that that had been something he had seriously plotted to do to anyone, ever. Or maybe she simply wished to expose the truth about the man? It was limited how much Cadmus and Idés could even help in that regard. If they had access to that kind of public platform, they’d be using it for their own cause.
“And what do you specifically need from us?”

A bit unsettled by her gaze, he shifted slightly in his seat, finding an even more uncomfortable rest in the pillowed booth. Even without her disguise she was still a bit unsettling. Was it the pain in her eyes? Maybe he just couldn’t get the three voices of the witch of Erast out of his head, whenever she spoke. Whatever it was, he tried to combat this, by taking another sip of tea. As it so happened, it also saved him from having to respond to her stunned reaction, when he had told her they were willing to help. A response that made him worry a bit, and once again made him glance at Idés for support. How bad could it be? Idés was not much of a rock, seeming almost as sad as the woman seemed vulnerable. He ought to have been happier by picking up on their feelings this way, the tea having clearly helped. Instead he felt bad for intruding on someone who had already lowered her guard.

Whatever he had expected, Jason Hart was not it. Not that he doubted her. Cadmus’ relation to politics was… Complicated? He had never had the right to vote, and so every election reinforced this powerlessness, and his opinions mattered very little. Even if he wanted to, there was nothing he could do to change things. Not that it prevented him from following along. He knew more than enough about both Hart and his party. Jason was exactly the type of man, in whose closet one would expect to find skeletons, despite his charming facade. Even of this type. Or maybe Cadmus was biased by Hart's anti-Nachon rhetoric, and fellow party members. Besides, there was the way she spoke the name… With piercing hatred, and icy anger. The way you could only name someone who had hurt you.
Even in the humid tearoom it felt like a drop in temperature. But really, who could be surprised? Another politician, another dirty secret. Power, corruption and lies. So much for the family values of the Conservative-Labour Party.

Would they still help? Could they? He had frozen with the teacup raised halfway to his lips. But now he lowered it. Staring at the liquid in the porcelain with a slight frown. He felt like he had already promised her something. Despite him clearly stating the opposite. What exactly did she want with Hart? Revenge? ”I’m not sure how, but if you think we can help… Well, my offer still stands.” Another glance at Idés, who was luckily smart enough to ask about her goal, before agreeing to anything. Cad understood the hesitation, and thought he himself ought to think twice before going around promising things. But Cadmus already knew that he would find a way to help her, no matter what. It was why he made a terrible member of a terrorist group. And a wonderful hypocrite.