Edge Town-City of Light

Las Vegas, Nevada—Near the Vegas Strip, Las Vegas Convention Center◊

Around Two Months After the Passing of the Summer and Winter Mantle and the End of Arc 2

Morning

Since the ceasefire at Yggdrasil, the tension had reached a subtle, slow boil. A confrontation of the scale that had happened in the Barrow Downs and around the Tree makes ripples that stretch through the entire magical world. The passing of two mantles of power—the theft of an artifact of reality warping power—it heralded change, sudden and ugly. Naturally, this meant negotiations. Negotiations not helped by the fact that even after the immediate conflict had faded, the Seed remained in Thorne hands, a hostage to guarantee a place at the negotiating table. It was unlikely Alexander was pleased by this arrangement, however. Barely a week after the battle’s end, representatives of all three great clans of the White Court had arrived, bearing authority from the White King to negotiate on his behalf. The crime lord been left in the dark, his new empire already under control of the elders.

Meanwhile, the Fae Courts argued for ownership of the Seed and the Tree, and Monoc Representatives made clothed legal threats. The Old Norse, apparently, had some of the most terrifying lawyers in existence. Blame the Althings. They’d honed their argumentative skills for generations. Literally.

Even the overwhelmed White Council refused to be left out. Martha Liberty, accompanied by Warden Ramirez arrived in Vegas, shooing out their troublesome Librarian and restraining Warden Lichtenberg to the sidelines.

Thus, the second battle of Yggdrasil began.

_____________________________________________________________________________

When beings of myth gather, the natural order takes a holiday. The movements of the powerful are rarely subtle. Moses and a burning bush, Zeus descending on unfortunate mortal women as a particularly lusty bull, or golden shower. A rain of frogs in Chicago.

A rainbow in the middle of a snowstorm in Las Vegas. Las Vegas, who’s winter low is in the forties.

Traffic had ground to a halt in the City Center and Strip, locals and tourists alike balking at the thought of dealing with snow and temperature that belonged better in Greenland than the city of sun and vice. No weather report had predicted this. National news was reporting it as a freak blizzard, possibly due to global warming.

More remarkable, perhaps, was the fact that this wasn’t the only snowfall Las Vegas had gotten this year. Just the heaviest.

_____________________________________________________________________________

The Las Vegas Convention Center was one of the best equipped conventions centers in the world, home to hacker-cons, Hollywood meetups, trade symposiums, and Silicon Valley socials. It boasted 144 meeting rooms, a grand lobby, and capacity enough to form a self-contained society in case of an apocalypse. It was not, however, a place many would expect a peace summit between Wizards, the Fair Folk, Incubi, and Norse Divinities to occur, but everyone had to change with the times. It lacked the grandeur of stone castles, perhaps, instead boasting sleek, very American white walls and large windows, but again—changing times.

Besides, the meeting rooms were heated.

After days of being left in the dark, everyone who had played a part in the battles of Vegas had received a summons to the negotiations. Naturally, though, the only reward more than two months of waiting was more waiting—instead of an immediate audience, the party had been ushered by dark-suited Einherjar to an adjoining conference room◊, left to brood in thinly-padded chairs, and munch upon packaged pretzels and cheap pastries under the flicker of fluorescents.

Beyond two dark, fake-hardwood doors, there was the muffled sound of argument. Outside the large picture windows, a herd of what looked very much like caribou attempted to graze on the decorative palm bushes.

The argument tapered off, and the fake-hardwood doors opened. Four figures, all seeming to slightly bristle at each other’s presence, strode into the room. A dark-skinned woman with a face like old leather, dressed in robe and stole—Martha Liberty. A step behind her, smiling sheepishly, was Warden Ramirez, sword sheathed at his hip. A sleek, dark-haired woman in a business suit whose lines could cut glass: Sofia Raith. Finally, the muscled, red-coated form of Kris Kringle, there as a representative of the Fae Courts. And entirely legally distinct from a certain CEO of a global security firm.

They pause, looking at the assembled.

Martha Liberty speaks first.

"Gentlemen."

edited 18th Jan '17 9:48:28 AM by DrTentacles

Alexander quietly seethed. It wasn't enough that Vegas was impersonating Greenland, or that the Fae and the White Council had been stomping around. It wasn't enough that someone that was almost certainly Monoc has begin a slow, steady march of bureaucratic war, burying his assets, already battered from the cost of defending and repairing Ragnarok, under a tide of lawsuits. Or the fact that the funeral for Anya Collette had included an empty casket for her daughter. Hell, it wasn't even fucking enough that Sofia Raith had pushed him to what was effectively the children's table, while the big boys talked.

No, what was probably most unpleasant was sitting in a small conference room with the two White Council members, and Jarl. The last of which was probably seething at the fact that he still had the Seed.

Not that he could have given back if he wanted to, at this point.

So he passed the time with idle glances out the window, not trusting the magic in his air to not fry his phone. Jesse, seated at his side, maintained an unflappable expression, a printed copy of the Accords on a clipboard in their lap. They, at least, were prepared.

When the door opened, it was almost a relief. Not that any of the four assembled were friends of his.

Alexander stood, giving a deliberately curt nod.

"Lady Raith, Lord...Winter? Or is it CEO? No matter. Madame Liberty, Warden."

edited 17th Jan '17 2:53:32 PM by DrTentacles

Leon had been somewhat twitchy as they sat there waiting. He wasn't entirely comfortable wearing a robe and his cloak in the presence of various non-friendlies even if it was incredibly unlikely any violence would break out at this point. The fact that he had also forgone most of his offensive along with his defense wasn't helping. He had a few of his lightning darts sequestered in his robes, but was otherwise unarmed. He had thought of bringing his sword, but it wasn't an actual warden blade, so he refrained.

As a small saving grace, at least Alex hadn't brought Aiden along. So he wouldn't have to deal with being hit on. Shame he couldn't have a gameboy to pass the time though. Instead he sort of just sat there, staring at nothing. Fortunately the wait wasn't too long before the representatives of various factions approached them.

He stood up from his seat and bowed at Madame Councilwoman Liberty and by extension the other representatives.

"Senior Councilwoman Liberty, Regional Commander Ramirez, Lord Kringle, Lady Raith."

Tim straightened as Wizard Liberty arrived, his hat held behind his back and the blue stole of a junior wizard over the shoulders of his dark business suit. His wounds had, mostly, healed and while he had been…politely told to keep himself ‚available‘, by now he was in a strange equilibrium of being terminally annoyed and terminally '‘bored’’.

If it had been his choice, he’d rather had gone either to Edinburgh to take care of work that had probably started to pile up or go home and do…well anything but stay in this city any longer. Vegas, he had decided, was a city he had seen enough of. And that was before the weather had turned.

The choice of companions, he reflected, had not improved the enforced ‚vacation‘ much. Jarl had been a tolerable companion, but if he never saw anyone with the last name of Thorne for the rest of his wizardly life…it wouldn’t be enough.

'‘At least I managed to get Kat to leave town before this.’’ He sighed internally. He loved her but he doubted her Clan Elders would…cherish being drawn into this situation. It was bad enough that the Senior Council would probably express their view on the matter in the privacy of the Council in due time. Especially about what he had done to…resole the situation.

By now, his hand didn’t even twitch anymore as he remembered the image of a battle field exploding in front of him. Maybe soon his mind wouldn’t either. One could only hope.

But now, as he saw the approaching group, he hoped that the time to put Vegas behind him had finally come.

„Wizard Liberty.“ A nod to acknowledge Ramirez. „My Lord. Miss Raith“

Jarl hated diplomatic meetings. For every hour he'd spent in his professional life so far kicking down doors and rescuing lives, at least a dozen hours had gone by in stuffy meeting rooms doing the business dealings. It was hell, even if you looked apart from the unpleasant company it often invited.

Still, there was little reason to be down. They'd won (barely) and they had a new Jack Frost (an untrained boy) and they knew where the Seed was (in the hand of a vampire). And if the Raith negotiators got stubborn, maybe he'd get to go metaphorically shake Alex down for it. The possibilities were endless.

As the group of negotiators walked out, he inclined his head respectfully to each of them in turn, a slight smile on his face.

"Boss." He nodded at Kringle. "Senior Councilwoman." He inclined his head to Martha Liberty, then turned his head to Sofia Raith and likewise nodded respectfully.

"Lady Bicicletta de villaggio."

Terry closed the paperback he'd brought - shame to stop in the middle of the big castle-storming scene, but oh well - when the various worthies came in. He actually looked vaguely presentable for once, having dug out a sober black suit from somewhere in lieu of his normal sweats or that banana-yellow number he wore on special occasions. He'd even gotten all the wolf fur off it, he was pretty sure. It was most likely the suit he'd be buried under, which he suspected would end up feeling appropriate. It was possible a bigshot wizard, a bigshot vampire, and Action Santa Claus all being very tense around each other all wished him well with no fine print, but he wouldn't bet his own money on it.

"I too acknowledge your names and titles," he said, leaning forward attentively. "What can we do you for?"

Really, neither Council, Court, or CEO had any reason to expect any more respect from the merry band of Loki-bothers than they got. There was still an almost palpable chill in the air, Leon and Tim's respect outweighed by the various jabs of the others.

Sofia Raith's eyes met Jarl's, one predator sizing up another. A flicker of Hunger from her sparked through the air, enough that Alexander could notice—and Jarl would feel a swell of heat, the scent of woman's perfume strong in the air, her lips full of red promises.

"You're vassal's vassal will do poorly in court with manners like that."

Kringle ignored the Vampire, instead tossing Alexander a jolly wink. It probably meant "You just earned another Ten-Thousand in legal fees."

Martha Liberty coughs—rough, world-weary, and sounding like she'd been smoking for the past century. Or longer.

"Ya'll done? I have a house to get back home to. Somewhere warmer than here."

Kringle barely broke stride, walking over to the snack table and rifling through the bagged chips. Sofia broke her gaze, the hunger fading.

"Of course, Wizard Liberty. Give them the pitch."

The old, leather-skinned woman crossed her arms, looking at the assembled Loki-slayers with a distinct air of annoyance.

"Well. Not all of you are beholden to the Council. Not even sure why the Thorne boy's here, after all. Most of you owe Kringle a favor. Lemme give you short of it, though. We're stuck on a fine detail in the negotiations. Almost out of the woods—just not quite. Mostly because it won't matter a damn who gets the Seed or the Tree or any of that sh...stuff, in the end."

She snorts, glancing at Alexander.

"Might want to consider selling that tacky-ass casino of yours, boy, cause the whole thing's gonna live up to name real soon. Veil's torn to shreds around it. It's getting worse, too—whole city's seeing the effects. Caribou aren't for show. There's not a big enough threshold in the world to ward it all off, either."

She sighed, rubbing her eyes, the exhaustion hinting that she might have tried.

"Not sure what your Pan's plan was, in the end, other than a big war—but the peace treaty's mostly carved up, so that's sunk. Might be I'll ask him, if he's ever in the mood for a chat. But before anyone signs—before the Seed goes back to Jack, we gotta seal it all off. The tree, the Seed, anything else that got let out that shouldn't."

Kringle's voice cuts in, soft, rumbling, oddly thoughtful for such a bear of a man.

"Which would take the power of a God."

Martha Liberty sighs.

"Which would take a lot of power—and more technique."

Lady Raith gave a cat-like smile, her voice sliding in like a honeyed knife.

"Lord Kringle was kind enough to propose a plan. With help from our mysteriously absent friends in Monoc Security. It's a deep shame they couldn't send anyone. I hope they're not having trouble with employment."

Kringle, to his credit, didn't twitch. Just kept talking.

"Indeed. Sadly, gods are in sadly short supply these days. There is an alternative. An item of power, located in a museum near France. The retrieval of which would be considered payment of..services rendered to Monoc."

His eyes glittery beneath bushy white brows with sort of a fierce merriment.

"Or so we were told."

edited 17th Jan '17 6:17:49 PM by DrTentacles

Terry manfully kept his eyes from rolling at all this dual-identity legal fiction bullshit. I suppose I should enjoy not being the guy with the most divided existence in the room.

"Okay. So we grab your vaguely described MacGuffin and get things sorted, then who's going to be objecting to its relocation from France? I find that knowing exactly what powers that be I'm pissing off helps me tailor my annoyingness to them."

Tim managed to keep his poker face, but turned to Wizard Liberty.

"I assume the Council has ways to acquire the item in question?"

By which he meant throwing cash at the problem. He had eaten meals with the Wizards from accounting often enough to understand the fact that the Council had more money than a whole lot of countries.

Liberty laughed at Tim's question, a short, harsh bark.

"Yes. Two of them—you, and the boy."

After a moment, she continued

"I gabbed with our french wizards. Finding the museum's been a hobby to our Parisian Senior Wizard, Rollo de Normandie. For the past century or so. He's graciously decided to accept your help."

Finishing, she shot a side-long glance at Kringle, wariness plainly written across her face. It's clear that she doesn't consider the chances of this plan succeeding high.

Kringle, confidence apparently unflappable, steps forward, cracking his ham-like hands with an audible pop.

"Don't be so dour, Madame Liberty. We've worked out services rendered—I am honor bound not to send your boys on a snipe hunt."

Clearing his throat, he flashes the room an almost child-like grin, continuing.

"Now, when I say "near Paris," I mean on the Nevernever side. I'm hardly a scholar in the matter, but the short of it is, the museum's a collection of stolen magical artifacts collected during the French's conquests by a secret society called "Les Poisoners." Including a drawing from the Well of Udr."

Sofia Raith, meanwhile, turned to Terry, voice low, entirely professional, but somehow still unsettlingly intimate.

"Always an excellent question. France is...an entertaining place. Old magical traditions, several active Wizards, and a labyrinth of minor talents. Along with my kin. Luckily for you, as thanks for considerations as to the White Court's place in Las Vegas, one of our Paris households has also offered their assistance."

edited 18th Jan '17 10:50:04 AM by DrTentacles

Tim sighed, a feeling of resignation flowing over him. It seems this is not as over as I hoped.

"I assume this is a non-voluntary voluntation on our parts, Wizard Liberty?" He asked, despite being pretty sure about the answer.

Turning his gaze to Kringle, who was definitely not the person who had tutored him in magic for a few months. Honestly not.

"And what sort of 'artifacs' are we talking here, exactly?"

Kringle grins, merriment increasing as the metaphorical vice starts to close in.

"Would you believe me if I said I didn't know? Monoc might, but they're being awfully closed-mouthed. I can make a pretty decent guess, though. Go find a map. Mark down every bit of land that the French put a flag on—delightfully greedy people, aren't they? Then assume everything that wasn't *very* well hidden ended up in their hands, unless the Council or someone else got there first. Egyptian necromancy focii, African spirit-masks. You've done field work for the Council. You know how this works, Tim."

edited 18th Jan '17 11:27:17 AM by DrTentacles

"They don't pay me to do well in court." Jarl bowed his head, a wicked, wolflike grin on his face. "They pay me to make sure everyone else does."

"Now," he droned, turning to Kringle, "this may just be my burgeoning detective skills finally manifesting themselves, but given that you asked me here on top of this motley crew," he gestured to Tim, Leon and Terrence, "I'm going with them, aren't I?"

Tim pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. He had a suspicion growing. "We're not talking 'museum' here, are we?" He asked with narrowed eyes. "At least not in the modern sense. We're not talking the Louvre here."

Tim's stare intensified.

"We're talking the magic equivalent of the British Museum here. Before they split off the Library parts. Am I correct?"

edited 18th Jan '17 11:32:44 AM by 3of4

Liberty gives Tim a dry look.

"A trove of cultural artifacts looted by Europeans for the elite to gawk at? What a novel idea. You've seen the Council Library's older stacks. There's a reason you librarians take copies, rather than the original, Wizard von Hochberg "

Kringle has an ear-to-ear grin of amusement when he turns to Jarl. His reply is very, very dry.

"Lad, you'd think you'd have caught on by now. The best reward for a job done well is another."

"Wizard Liberty, I was more speaking in terms of scale and with of the forms of content." Tim elaborated.

Liberty nods, mollified.

"That's a question for Wizard de Normandie."

She catches Tim's eyes for a moment, then jerks her head toward the exit. The message is fairly unmistakable.

I have more for you, but not here.

"So, we team up with Wizard Normandie to find this place, and then I'm assuming we can't just have a chat with the owners to buy the artifact we want. Which makes this a heist." Leon looked around at the other members of their group. From Jarl who's idea of subtle was lightning bolting the door of a paranet meeting off its hinges, to Tim who laser nuked an entire army, to Terrance who's idea of a parking spot was through the wall of a mansion, and then to Alex who had a fetish for C4.

"...are you sure this group is the best group for the job? Skilled thieves we are not. Unless you just want the place ransacked. We could probably manage that."

Tim gave a quiet nod, biding his time for after the meeting.

Terry nodded thoughtfully in response to Sofia's answer. A whole damn smorgasbord of potential enemies, from the sounds of things. Off way the hell in France, meaning he'd leave behind the connections he'd made here save for the ones in this room. He couldn't say he found it particularly appealing.

"The term is 'expert treasure-hunter,' m'lad," Terry grinned at Leon in response to the thieves comment. Truth be told, he suspected the wizard was underestimating their ability to snatch something without leaving chaos in their wake, but he wasn't going to argue too hard in favor of going.

Alexander, for once, kept his mouth shut. It was hardly as if anything he could say anything useful. As amusing as it was to watch Sofia and Jarl fight, it wasn't going to go further than words. Beside him, Jesse had pulled out a pen and paper, taking notes. They really hadn't changed since high-school.

When Terrence spoke, Alexander couldn't help but shoot the werewolf an amused grin. It was nice that someone was taking it in stride. Since it was likely he was acting as the White Court's representative here, it would also be nice to have one of the merry band of "expert treasure hunters" not want to kill him.

As the explanations wrapped up, Alexander realized that he was actually a little excited about this. Part of him still seethed at being treated like a child, kicked out of Vegas to let Sofia Fucking Raith treat his hard-won kingdom as her private sandcastle. But he'd be back. And with luck, he'd have toys from this "museum" to prove his worth—and the favor of the King. Let her choke on that.

He cleared his throat, flashing a confident smile to the room.

"So, ancient secret societies, hidden artifacts....Paris. Sounds like a middle-rank thriller. Please don't tell me we're also recovering the Grail. Dan Brown doesn't need to be encouraged. You should relax, though, Leon. The theft won't be that hard. I started my path with similar work."

_____________________________________________________________________________

Sofia Raith tilted her head, the scent of rose petals wafting through the air as her gaze flicked between Alexander and Leon, then licked her lips, taking out a small business card, and sliding it out to Leon.

"Doubt? Considering your past deeds? It is true none of you have a reputation for discretion, but I cannot think of any better help for this job. In fact, I took it upon myself to recommend your involvement."

She paused, a slight smirk forming on her red, cupid's-bow lips, as though taking a moment to savor her next words.

"Unfortunately, Mr Thorne, you and your siblings are too valuable to the security of Vegas to spare. You'll be assisting—under my guidance, of course, the reordering of Vegas as a proper holding of the White Court. The card has the address of a Parisian Courtier, Duchesse de Charbonneau, Warden Lichtenberg. She has graciously offered her services as our representative and as a source of aid."

_____________________________________________________________________________

Alexander stood up sharply, a sudden *spike* of rage flashing through his body.

Under your supervision. Do I get a shiny silver collar, for all my hard work winning the city?

His eyes flashed silver behind his glasses, gloved hand curling into a fist at his side, Hunger rising. The pull of the room shifts, focus divided between Sofia Raith and him.

Jesse didn't look up from their notes as he grabbed Alexander's sleeve, giving a sharp tug. The perceptive, however, would notice a white-knuckled tension in the slender androgen's frame, their voice a soft hiss.

"Mi Fratello. This is a bad place to argue. And a worse time."

edited 18th Jan '17 2:31:13 PM by DrTentacles

Oh for fuck's sake. Terry didn't need an encyclopedic knowledge of White Court internal dynamics to recognize power play bullshit in that little exchange. "Damn, even the great Sofia Raith's guidance isn't enough to let them spare you?" he said, turning to look at Alex. "You must be carrying that team."

Yeah, that potshot was probably a poor decision. Better change the subject. "Say, that reminds me," he said, turning back to Kringle. "That secret society you mentioned, does that translate to 'The Poisoners,' or 'The Fish?' My French is pretty rusty." How he would have been reminded of that was left as an exercise for the listener.

Leon stared at the card for a moment, before deciding being impolite may not be the best option at the moment. He forced a smile onto his face as he accepted the card while doing his best to avoid any direct physical contact without making it look like he was avoiding direct physical contact.

"Thank you. I'll be sure to keep her in mind if we need additional assistance," he said with somewhat lacking sincerity, but at least he was trying to play nice.

Sofia's smile was colder than the air outside, the Hunger raiding off of her like a storm. It was more than enough to make Jarl's metaphorical hackles raise. Leon, however, got the worst of it, a gut-punch of instinctive, boiling lust, animal heat and flashes of erotic possibilities.

"Wizard Dresden seems to be unable to champion the paranet right now, so ensuring the security of the less powerful is King Raith's primary concern. And, as we're all aware, Las Vegas is in grave danger."

The Hunger simmers down, her control restored, while she looks at Leon with playful, inquisitive eyes.

"Additional assistance such as passports and papers? We're all in this together, Warden Leon. You're very young, especially considering what you've accomplished. Allies you make now will still be there centuries later."

Sofia pauses, letting the unspoken second half of that statement hang.

"Vegas has too many lives to risk on anyone's pride. Our family in France as just as invested in your success as you are."

_____________________________________________________________________________

Still boiling, Alexander looked down at his sibling, a harsh remark on the edge tip of his tongue. Sofia Raith been stealing Vegas from under him from the moment she arrived here with a squad of thugs and a writ from King Raith to oversee the negotiations. To her, he was an infant in the Court, with laughably less experience and fewer connections. If he didn't resist now, she'd just roll over him.

He hissed through his teeth, remembering the room. The senior council. Wizards. Winter. Terrence's sarcasm was his only ally in the room. He could have done worse, but it certainly wasn't a winning battle.

"Not the time or the place. Forgive me, I was surprised."

Alexander sat down, stiff and still bristling by Jesse's side. His sibling noticeably relaxed, tiling the clipboard to him. Written in Jesse's neat, clipped script were a few lines.

Far be it from me to suggest making more enemies. We do know more than enough to interfere, however.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Kringle, still dressed, as a note, in a red jacket over ringmail, with a broadsword sheathed in his hip, clapped its hands. It was loud enough to crack through any lingering conversation, the old Fae's bear-like shoulders flexing enough to demonstrate sizable muscle.

"Shame. I was going to offer my sword for a duel. It saves some time, though. And I know better than near anyone else that there's never enough time."

Turning his head to Terrence, he flashed another fierce grin with his reply.

"Sample a dish of theirs, it's the best way to find out. Poisoners sounds less friendly, though, so it's probably that."

Wizard Liberty had begun to scowl, her patience clearly exhausted when she spoke.

"If this is where the conversation has wandered, Wizards Hochberg, Lichtenberg, may we speak in private?"

edited 18th Jan '17 3:55:40 PM by DrTentacles

Tim turned his head, suddenly fixating Sofia Raith for the first time in the entire conversation. From his body language it was clear there was not any ounce past the nominal respect diplomacy requested in him for the succubus.

He didn't like Alex. But for better or for worse, he had interacted enough with the young lord of House Thorne to give something that approached a genuine rapport between them, no matter how much he irritated him.

The Raith woman...had not.

And the fact that she so unsubtly threatened something a fellow Wizard had created, someone who Tim considered a colleague and equal in spirit....rankled.

"Do not be concerned, Miss Raith." He began, his tone a careful selected air of diplomatic threat. "Warden Dresden may not be around right now. But I fully assure you, should it be...necessary to revisit the standing status of the Paranet in relation to the greater Powers under the Unseelie Accords, I am certain there will always be someone to re-iterate the pertinent outcome to your satisfaction."

And then, without a further word, he turned away from her. "I believe there is a small private smoking lounge a floor up, Wizard Liberty? Shall we?"

edited 18th Jan '17 4:02:02 PM by 3of4