The Hrafn: Oden’s Will

The city loomed like a dark symphony of stone and shadow, its architecture a study in towering spires, intricate ironwork, and gargoyle-lined rooftops. Narrow streets twisted between buildings that seemed to lean inward as if conspiring against the sky. Muninn didn't know why she thought the daytime in the city would be any better than the night when everything was covered in a layer of darkness. 

She knew she would not like human cities but this was worse than she imagined. The pale light of morning brought no joy and only added to the horrid feeling of confinement. Frost clinging to wrought-iron railings and ornate lantern posts sparkled like fragmented stars, an illusion of beauty in an otherwise oppressive scene.

Muninn pulled her heavy cloak tighter against the biting cold. Her hood cast a deeper shadow over her face, blending her seamlessly into the ever increasing crowd shuffling along the uneven cobblestones and squeezing between carriages. The air was thick with the mingling scents of damp stone, burning coal, and something faintly acrid that clung to her synthetic senses longer than she liked. Smoke curled from countless chimneys and stained the already dull, overcast sky.

Merchants began to set up their stalls beneath arched awnings, the creak of wooden carts and the bark of early sales pitches adding to the city's waking. Muninn didn't bother to look at the goods but caught a glimpse of bundled fabrics, various trinkets, and bread. Soon it became background noise as she carried on, hurried by her purpose and desire to leave this city as soon as possible.

She groaned inwardly at her misfortune of having to be here during winter of all seasons. She was used to the hot year round humidity of her homeland. She was not mentally or emotionally prepared for the oppressive cold. She had hoped for a more immersive experience back planetside, but she was quickly reconsidering her decision.

Muninn shivered and sniffled. Her gynoid body, though lifelike in appearance, carried the option of bypassing discomfort. A few swift commands through her internal systems, and the thermal sensors switched off. Relief washed over her as the cold became a distant memory, her breath no longer fogging as it had moments before. She would have to remember to do something about that, people might notice her breath was cold.

She let out a long sigh. "Remind me again why are we going about this in such a roundabout way? If we want a fully functional Angel Core, wouldn't it make more sense for me to just go in and take it myself?"

"We've been over this, Muninn," Huginn replied, his voice calm and measured, the tone of one used to explaining things multiple times. "We can't afford to draw too much attention—either to ourselves or to the Forest Father. The Angels may be gone, but they weren't the only threats in this Plane.

"If we act recklessly," Huginn went on, "others will notice the ripples. The divinity of the Forest Father would shine like a beacon, and there are beings here that would see that as a challenge. Six True Immortals still roam this Plane, and of those, the King and Queen of Riots are especially dangerous. If they sense the Forest Father's presence, they'll come looking. And the Forest Father is not yet ready for that confrontation."

"Six, you never said how many were confirmed before." She frowned beneath her scarf, the logic undeniable but still frustrating. "Yes, of course. You're right, as always." 

"I usually am." He said smugly. "Now, let's focus. We've got work to do."

"Right, right. So we have a warrior and an artificer. Who's next?"

"The target is a healer named Nikandros. It should be easy, he is at a bank right now." Huginn said.

"What makes him expendable?" She asked.

"Well he is a mage healer, but not registered with the healers guild. People call him the Back Alley Healer or Nikandros the Swift as he has had to run from just about every guild enforcer at this point."

"Is he any good," Muninn asked. "I know I won't need a healer but it will be pointless to bring him along if the others die."

"I don't know, I haven't seen his magic in action," Huginn said. "That is your job to make that determination."

Muninn rolled her eyes but allowed herself a small smile. At least he fixed the map situation and she didn't have to go through the mountains of files just to open it. The overlay of her vision showed her the exact location of her next team mate. She pulled up her scarf more out of reflex than necessity and carried on.

"Well, let's find our healer." Muninn said.

***

Muninn arrived at her destination and stopped at the entrance to The Gilded Hoarde Truste which was some kind of bank from what she could gather from the outside. The building was a bright red brick as compared to the grey lifeless stone of the adjacent building. It spoke of a regality not present anywhere else that she had seen in the city so far. She also saw her first human made clock at the top of the middle spire of the building. She had never seen one before and had a moment of childlike wonder at how humans managed to build something like that. Then that moment was ruined when information on mechanical clock construction, schematics and even improvements to the design flooded her mind courtesy of Huginn.

"Alright I get it." Muninn said out loud. "I am going in already."

There wasn't any response but she knew Huginn was chuckling to himself. He was right though she came here from an orbital station built by the Divines of Man and here she was dumbstruck by a clock. She chuckled to herself at the absolute absurdity of her new life as a Hrafn. She walked up the steps and pushed open the heavy door. 

The interior of The Gilded Hoarde Truste was every bit as grand as the exterior suggested. A massive crystal chandelier dominated the ceiling, levitating under its own power as each crystal was intricately charged with ambient mana. It casted fractured rainbows of light across polished marble floors. Gold filigree adorned the columns and trim, while plush crimson rugs guided patrons toward the long, gleaming counters. This place was the epitome of wealth, and every detail screamed exclusivity.

The few patrons inside glanced up at her arrival, their expressions quickly morphing into thinly veiled disdain. She saw a few of them clutch their coin purses or other valuables as if she were going to walk up and take them. Clearly, she wasn't dressed to impress. While her ensemble leaned more toward functional she didn't think it lacked elegance. Apparently she was no different than the ruffians outside.

She caught the attention of two young attendants near the counter. A man and a woman exchanged pointed glares, each silently daring the other to step forward. Finally, the man sighed, his shoulders drooping slightly before he straightened, plastering on a smile so fake it was painful to watch.

Muninn had to quickly study the room in the corners of her vision. She noticed the unmistakable stares of the security staff. Several human men watched her every move with hawk-like intensity. Their gazes weren't subtle—they were making it clear she was unwelcome and under suspicion.

Muninn rolled her shoulders, brushing off their silent judgment. With a fluid motion, she unclasped her heavy cloak, letting it vanish into her magical inventory. The act itself drew a few hushed murmurs from onlookers, which wasn't a surprise. A storage item capable of storing the cloak and scarf while also being small enough to be worn out of sight was expensive in the human kingdom.

Now revealed, Muninn was dressed sharply but practically: a crisp white dress shirt tucked neatly into black pants, accented by a fitted vest embroidered with a stunning silver design of the stars. Her gloves matched her attire, sleek and black, with faint lines of stitching tracing elegant patterns. Her movements were smooth, almost predatory, her posture exuding quiet authority and danger. She was a Hrafn after all, she wouldn't dare falsely represent her master.

The holsters beneath her arms visible without the cloak. The "wands," as they might be mistaken for, were in reality her twin pistols. These weapons were of a design unknown to this world. She herself didn't even know what they were until a couple of weeks ago when she was told she cannot use her electrokinesis unless Huginn approved. To the untrained eye, they were merely oddly shaped magical instruments.

Muninn's presence became sharper without the cloak and there were those that were honestly trying to place her wealth status. Her dress was not that of a pauper but it left her as a figure of mystery. Her dangerous aura was only enhanced by the subdued confidence in her stride. 

The young man approached Muninn cautiously, his polished shoes clicking softly against the marble floor. His eyes flicked between her, the young woman he had left behind, and the security staff stationed strategically around the room. His apprehension was obvious; he was ready to defer to someone else if things turned unpleasant. Muninn swore she saw a bead of sweat slowly but surely make its way down his forehead when she walked up to him.

Cognitive Data Relay… Scanning… Entity Description

Name: Lemmy Jons

Species: Human

Magical Condition: Poor, Specialty: None

Body Condition: Moderate

Lemmy offered a stiff, professional smile. "Good morning, miss. If you're here looking for work, the guild building is just next door."

Muninn tilted her head slightly. She wasn't sure whether he was genuinely trying to redirect her or simply trying to usher her out. Either way, it was entertaining. She slowly scanned the room, her sharp gaze flicking over each figure she saw. She was searching for her target, but he wasn't anywhere in sight. Referencing the map Huginn provided he should be close by. Her lips pressed into a thin line of frustration. She would have to play along for a while until she saw him.

"No, I'm not here for work," she said after a moment, her voice calm but with an edge of disinterest. "I'd like to… open an account."

The young man hesitated, his carefully curated expression faltering for just a second. He glanced back toward the woman behind him. The young woman folded her arms and was watching with a mix of irritation and smugness, she was clearly enjoying not being the one that had to deal with the scary lady. 

"Ah, I see," Clearing his throat, Lemmy straightened his posture. "Well, while we'd be happy to assist, the bank has a minimum limit of a hundred gold which must be maintained in the account. Perhaps another establishment would better suit your—"

Before he could finish, Muninn reached into her magical inventory with a fluid motion and withdrew a handful of coins. They gleamed brightly under the chandelier's light—mithril-plated platinum, a rarity in most economies and a fortune in this one. Any one of the coins she casually showed off were easily worth two hundred gold. Enough for a family to live comfortably for fifty years in this cesspool of a city. She let them clink softly against her gloved palm before holding one of them up for him to see.

Lemmy, standing closest, had an unobstructed view of the unmistakable mithril sheen and the intricate craftsmanship that marked them as a fortune beyond most imaginations. Muninn could see the moment his breath caught and he fully grasped what she held. The murmurings in the distance from the other patrons and even the staff, and security told Muninn that most thought it was only silver.

The young woman at the counter, emboldened by what she perceived as an affront to their high standards, snapped her fingers at one of the guards stationed nearby. Together, they approached Muninn and the clearly befuddled Lemmy who had not looked away from the coins in her hand.

"I'm sorry, miss," the young woman began, her voice dripping with insincere politeness. "But we don't entertain clients with, ah, questionable business here. I'll have to ask you to leave."

The young woman's voice seemed to snap the young man out of his stupor. He had exasperation on his face as his formerly cautious demeanor evaporated. He stepped in the young woman and guards path. 

"Stop," He said sharply.

The woman halted, blinking at him in surprise. The guard, too, hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. Lemmy turned to Muninn, his earlier trepidation replaced by a surprising steadiness.

"Apologies for the misunderstanding," he said smoothly, bowing slightly. "We'd love to have your business here at The Gilded Hoarde Truste, madam. Allow me to assist you in opening an account immediately."

The young woman frowned, confusion and embarrassment flashing across her face. Her gaze darted to the coins again, and realization dawned as she got closer. Her cheeks flushed as she recognized the mithril plating. This wasn't a handful of silver, it was a fortune. Her earlier smugness crumbled into nervous eagerness.

"Madam," she interjected quickly, stepping closer and plastering on a smile. "I must apologize for the earlier confusion. Please, as the manager, allow me to offer you a personal tour of our facilities. I assure you, you'll find no better place to safeguard your assets."

Muninn again looked around at the spot that her target should be. She cross referenced the location with the map in her vision. She ignored the bank account managers as they fought for her business and with each other to be the one to take her account. Muninn's frustration at locating the target had a breakthrough when she realized the target was in a lower level of the bank. She had to get down there so she finally tuned back into the conversation.

"Madam, please," Lemmy said with a slight bow. "If you'd allow me to personally guide you through our offerings, I'm certain we can meet your needs. I'll ensure you have the utmost discretion and security."

Muninn tilted her head as if considering his words. Her sharp gaze locked onto him, studying his sincerity. Finally, she gave a faint nod.

"Very well," she said, her tone indifferent but with a hint of amusement. "Show me your security arrangements. I need to know my investments are safe."

"Ma'am I must insist that I take your account, Lemmy here is not as experienced," The young woman said.

"Lemmy here is the only one I will work with," Muninn said with a small smirk.

Muninn didn't even glance in her direction. Instead, she held out a gold coin and flipped it toward Lemmy, who caught it deftly. The young woman fumed silently as Lemmy, clutching the gold coin like a lifeline, nodded quickly and gestured for Muninn to follow him. He motioned a guard to follow them as they proceeded with the tour with enthusiasm.