Two-World Traders (progression fantasy)

A few minutes from one of many sprawling intersections in Sailor's Rise, past a snaking alley that slithers into another, along a questionably perilous road that hugs the sheer albeit scenic edge of Hightown, there sits a four-story stone apartment complex. The nondescript building has many doors, but only one of these unassuming entrances—white, arched, sitting atop three shallow steps—is accompanied by a silver plaque. If one were unfamiliar with the sign beside the door, they might think its embossed symbol looked sort of like a serpent coiled around the sun or perhaps, upon closer inspection, a luminous moon. Six words beneath the strange emblem resolve one mystery—The School of the Serpent Moon, they read—but invite so many others.

Yet even the most fancifully imaginative passerby (someone perhaps like the boy Elias Vice used to be) would never likely fathom just how extraordinarily unbelievable this snake school truly was. Nor would they ever guess certain events unfolding behind its wooden door on one particularly fateful late winter night, when twenty-one men and women, all dressed in green and gold, arrived unannounced. The hour was not a polite one, but their journey through the Void Sea had taken time, and there was none to waste.

As for the twenty-second person standing inside the charmingly messy, uncomfortably crowded apartment, the one who lived there, his usual nonchalance escaped him. He was, to say the least, surprised.

"That is… a lot to take in." Jalander wiped sleep from his eyes.

"We're all still processing it," Constance said. "And yet we must push forward with haste, for Lucas will not wait a moment."

"He is certainly a fast son of a bitch," Jalander replied. "So, you want access to the basement?"

"We need a new headquarters," she confirmed, "or an old one."

Jalander nodded.

Elias, meanwhile, was confused. As far as he knew, Jalander's apartment did not have a basement. He was quite certain he had long ago scanned every inch of the modestly sized space. Certainly, he would have noticed a set of stairs and, more than likely, he would have asked what lay at the bottom of them. He glanced over at Jalander, who looked back at him for an uncomfortable spell, still unreadable. Did he hate Elias? Was hate the right word? The younger man racked his brain for the ones Jalander had penned in that letter more than two years ago: I cannot watch the son follow the same path as his father, for I am painfully aware of where it leads.

And yet Elias's path had led them back together again all the same. Did Jalander resent that, seeing his decision suddenly undone, or did we welcome their reunion? For his part, Elias was excited to see his old mentor again, already crafting insufficient apologies in his head, wondering if enough time weathered regret into longing, if maybe all he needed to ask for was some tea.

Jalander walked to a bookshelf at the back of his cramped apartment, hand dancing between books until he found the right, rather thick cream-colored spine (Elias would later read its intentionally unenticing title: A History of Trader's Guild Law Volume III). He pushed the book like a button, reminding Elias of Millard Fullmore's tomb within a tomb. The bookshelf slid sideways on a track anchored to the wall, and there, behind its former position, were the darkened stairs Elias had missed. The stairs Jalander had never told him about.

Would he have, eventually? Elias had traded away the right to know.

"Give me a moment to light the way," Jalander said to them. "I haven't been down there in months. Let's hope the spiders haven't taken over. Or the rats."

On that worrying note, the Southlander disappeared inside, footsteps creaking down the stairwell, followed by what Elias was quite sure was the sound of him tripping. A moment later, orange light flickered and grew into a soft gradient, inviting them inside. "Come on down!" Jalander yelled up to them. "Just watch your step!"

They filed down the stairwell, Constance going in first, Elias queued last, still taking in the familiar apartment that had once been a sanctuary for his secrets. He'd missed the place. Not in a knowing way, but in the way one puts up with a small, persistent pain, only to discoverer the meaning of relief at the moment of recovery. His footsteps formed the final rhythm in a long percussion of boots.

The room revealed itself.

The basement—and such a word felt utterly inadequate—was at least five times the size of Jalander's apartment. Indeed, it was the size of the entire building. Elias almost laughed at himself for having believed all this time that one of the Five Great Schools had headquartered itself in an average-sized apartment, as if the rents in Sailor's Rise were really that bad (while they were pretty bad, he would later learn that they owned the whole building, which Jalander managed on their behalf).

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The entire space was open to them save for a couple of glassed-off offices near the back. Arched brick columns gave the headquarters the appearance of a repurposed wine cellar, one adorned with numerous tables, chairs, bookshelves, fireplaces that people were already attempting to light—for it was positively freezing down here—and of course, at the center of it all, a sparring ring, though this one was more of a square. A real collector headquarters, indeed.

Constance positioned herself at one edge of the ring, treating it like a stage, and told them to gather around. They had managed to get one fireplace going at least, popping behind them. Once again, Elias stood near the back—and was surprised by who chose to stand next to him.

"I would have told you about the basement," Jalander said, "had things… you know."

"I'm sorry," Elias whispered back.

"I imagine you are. Looks like they found you, after all."

"Yes, well, I had negotiated a deal for more freedom, not so unlike yours. Though I don't think any of that matters anymore."

"The era of the Valshynar: it felt so permanent, and yet she hardly lasted half a lifetime," Jalander opined. "Unfortunately, we may have a bigger problem on our hands now. The irony is that Lucas almost proves their point. He is precisely what they were meant to safeguard against, and instead they invited him to be a high collector. Were Sylas still here, he would have proclaimed, 'Of course they did.'" Jalander put on a voice that Elias could only assume was meant to sound like his father's. "Oligarchs will inevitably act like oligarchs, he once told me, and the good ones cannot stop the bad ones."

The one apparent good one cleared her throat and waited for them to quiet. Elias, meanwhile, was happy just to be speaking to Jalander again, whether or not he was forgiven—or ever would be.

"I wish there were time," Constance began. "Time to process what happened today. Time to grieve the lives we lost. Time to think before we must act. But time is another precious thing we lost today. Lucas has been planning this for I don't know how long, and though I do not think things unfolded as he imagined, he already knows his next steps. There were sixty of us at the Gray Academy this afternoon, which means there are nearly two hundred Valshynarians who were not there, stationed or traveling all across the Great Continent. I know the current location of many of them, but so does Lucas. He will not wait. He will try to tell them his version of what happened before we can tell them ours. Relics are another critical matter. Our most important assets are owned by individuals and companies, for the Valshynar comprise a people, not a legal entity. He will target the most lucrative ones first and attempt to seize them."

"What about The Transcontinental Trading Company?" someone asked.

"Bartholomew was our sole connection to it," Constance informed him. "It will be an enormous loss. There is much that will need to be… rebuilt. But first, we must do what we know Lucas is doing. We are in a race to acquire people, ships, businesses. Jameel will sit on his hands. Which means that if those of us in this room cannot quickly acquire the power to stand up to Lucas, the game will be over before it has even begun."

"What shall we call ourselves?" The question was Keo's.

"Are we not still the Valshynar?" another inquired.

"I expect Lucas will try to claim that name, along with our once collective identity," Constance said. "It is the only one the world knows us by, at least for now. But Jameel was actually right about one thing. The pact is broken. We are no longer a united people. And yet we are not a single school either. I see collectors of every background before me."

"If I may." Those three words grabbed Elias's attention, for the unexpected voice belonged to the man standing next to him. "The Serpent Moon School was named for a gift only some of us share," Jalander explained. "The serpents who snake through time and space, plotting constellations in the darkness," he added wistfully. "But I believe the metaphor means more than that. I believe it is also about cleverness. About finding paths to a destination that may not be entirely intuitive or straight. The Valshynar came to mean something else, and I believe the plaque on the wall outside still captures the spirit of those in this room, with a single revision. We are not a school. Might I suggest the Serpent Moon Syndicate?"

No one immediately opposed the idea, and nod by nod, they appeared to be warming up to it.

Elias, who rather liked the suggestion, couldn't help but echo the advice Bertrand once offered him long ago: "Alliteration is an important quality in a good name."

Somehow, that seemed to seal the deal.

"The Serpent Moon Syndicate," Constance repeated, smirking for the first time that Elias had seen that day. "Very well. We have a name. Next up, we will need"—she examined the expansive space around them—"more beds. Jalander, since you've already proven yourself so helpful, I will need you to evict a number of tenants in this building tomorrow."

"What?" The Southlander's voice broke.

"An unfortunate necessity," she said. "We need places to sleep, not just tomorrow night but for many nights to come. This is our building. We require it once more."

Jalander let out a long sigh that, were one to listen closely as Elias did, sounded almost like a very drawn-out "fuck."

After a few more logistical matters were settled, people dispersed about the room, some finding floor space on which to sleep. Elias felt fortunate, what with his proper bed waiting for him in his nearby apartment, a bed he had not slept in for weeks. That said, would he actually be able to sleep tonight? Would any of them?

Before he could leave and attempt to find out, Constance tapped him on the shoulder. "Return to me tomorrow," she said to him, and only him. "We have much to discuss. It's about your company."

Elias did not entirely like the sound of that, and it obviously showed on his face.

"I believe we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement," she sort of clarified. "Growth, Elias, growth like you've never experienced before."

"I'll need to involve my business partners," he replied, still uneasy if also undeniably intrigued.