Two-World Traders (progression fantasy)

"Employ caution and keep an open mind. Choose your words carefully." It was the last thing Constance told Elias before he truly would be on his own, and the young collector fully intended to heed his elder's sage advice.

That said, there was a fine line between careful and clever, and he'd had hours alone on the journey over to consider how he might approach this, whatever this was. He had rehearsed and revised many an internal monologue and waded through every argument he might make in his favor, though the variables seemed endless. He did not know what he would be walking into. Bertrand was better at this, of course, but for once his best friends and business partners were not here to back him up, to cover his weaknesses with their strengths.

At a certain point, Elias gave up thinking about it and instead tried to enjoy the scenery. They had strolled through the sprawling gardens at a steady pace, and the temperature outside was indeed warmer than it should have been. Their destination was the largest and oldest-looking structure in the entire complex, a timeworn stone castle taken over by ivy, its copper roofs long turned green. Elias's mother had taught her son to see beauty in detail, to capture reality in art, and yet the mechanics of drawing and painting often weaved their way back into the world: the way a shadow jumped corners, the way a soft detail hid a harsher one. New buildings impeded on nature, carving it up with clean lines, but old ones like the castle before him slowly succumbed to it, until their stones turned to earth and their gates into weathered bark.

Inside the airy hall Constance led them through—the two collectors from the ship still herding Elias from behind—were arched oak beams, Valshynarian banners, and portraits of people he did not recognize. They passed others too, all dressed in a common outfit: a green waistcoat with a golden trim. Elias had never seen so many fellow collectors before. He eyed each of them, and they eyed him in return. He was the one who stuck out, he knew, in his blue jacket.

Finally, they stopped before a large double door, taller than most rooms. "We are expected," Constance informed them, knocking twice on the oversized entrance.

It did not let them in immediately, but another kind of door had crashed wide open inside Elias, a new wave of panic pouring through. His fear was physical. Suddenly, he could not recall what it was he was supposed to say, every word of his rehearsed speech washed away in an internal flood.

A heavy thud preceded a high screech, followed by a low, long groan. The doors were at last opening. "Fuck it," Elias exhaled under his breath. Constance eyed him with a single, arched eyebrow. She had done her part. The rest would be up to him.

"Step forward," a man's voice requested, and Elias thought it sounded familiar.

They entered the circular room together, until Constance stopped and beckoned him to go on ahead of her. At first, the faces staring at him were a blur, a detail in his periphery as he stared down at the marble floor and then up at the domed ceiling, constructed entirely of glass. There were no other windows into the chamber.

He remembered to breathe, then leveled his gaze toward his prosecutors.

He was surprised Constance took a seat among them, though hers was not the only unexpected revelation presenting itself as Elias analyzed the men and women analyzing him in turn. There were five in total, and he recognized three of them: Constance Eve, Lucas Dawnlight, and—yes, it really was him. Bartholomew Grimsby, chief proprietor of The Transcontinental Trading Company and the richest man in Sailor's Rise. So, the Trader's Guild's council chair sat in another seat of power.

The old man had always been nice to him, and Elias had had his suspicions. Lucas had likewise done Elias a considerable favor, forfeiting his position in The Emerald Cup two years ago so that The Sapphire Spirit could take first place instead. Supposedly, it was Lucas's way of repaying a self-imposed debt after Elias helped him fend off assassins in Azir, not that he had really needed the assistance. Elias had always felt he'd gotten the better half of that exchange, though now he was starting to wish Lucas still owed him something.

Either way, his situation had turned. Perhaps he had more friends in this room than expected. Perhaps this would not end so badly for him, after all.

Alas, that remained to be seen.

Their long, raised table traced the room like a crescent moon, and Elias stood alone in its lunar shadow. Mr. Grimsby, who was sitting more or less in the middle of the table, inhaled audibly, cleared his throat, then exhaled an unreadable sigh that carried the words "Elias Vice." It was not the first time he had spoken Elias's name, but the words today sounded different. He also must have had his suspicions.

"Hello, Mr. Grimsby," Elias replied.

"You will refer to him as High Collector Grimsby," said a woman Elias had never met before. She was older, if not quite as old as Mr. Grimsby, with a round, pockmarked face and narrow-set eyes that seemed to be losing a battle with her heavy brow.

Elias nodded an apology.

"Oh, come now, Greta. You know I am not one for formalities. The young man and I are previously acquainted." Mr. Grimsby shifted in his seat. "Perhaps we should begin with introductions. You know me, Constance, and I believe you and Lucas have met as well."

Sitting closest to the table's edge not far from the door, Lucas was leaning forward on both elbows, chin resting on his fists, a smirk never far from his lips. He confirmed their relationship and offered Elias a look that seemed less a warning than a hello, as if the situation were funny, them being here. That, too, put Elias a little more at ease.

"The woman who accosted you is High Collector Greta Redcaller." (High Collector Greta Redcaller's heavy brow tightened into a rocky bluff.) "I jest, Greta. She keeps us in line. As you know, we are a singular people, but we have not abandoned the teachings of the Five Great Schools. High Collector Redcaller represents the interests of those once under the Terra Magma School, so you can forgive her strong personality." Mr. Grimsby swiveled toward the last stranger at the table: a middle-aged, Azirian man looking deep in thought. "Finally, we have our Four Winds representative, High Collector Jameel Zylas. High Collector Zylas brings balance and deliberation to our meetings, and he makes a rather wonderful curry."

"What about you, Mr.—High Collector Grimsby?" Elias asked. "Do you represent one of the former schools?"

"I do," he said. "Perhaps you can infer which one from a process of elimination." Mr. Grimsby loved his games, even at a time like this.

Elias puzzled it out easily enough. He already knew Constance was like him, a Serpent Moon collector, and that Lucas was the fastest fighter he had ever witnessed, which would put him in the Silver Sanctum School, if the schools still existed. That meant Mr. Grimsby was of the original Valshynar—the ones who had absorbed, or annexed depending on whom you asked, the other great schools. Was that who Mr. Grimsby truly was: a charming old conqueror? Elias scarcely knew the man.

"With all due respect, this isn't a social occasion," High Collector Redcaller inserted.

"It is an unusual occasion, my dear." Mr. Grimsby turned to her. "Normally, a collector with Elias's experience would require no introduction, which I suppose is why we are here. No, you are not wrong. This is a serious matter." He faced Elias again.

They were all facing him now: the five high collectors of the Valshynar. Even the two guards behind him seemed to be measuring the young man with their expressionless eyes, blocking his only exit. The collectors from the ride over had since disappeared. Whatever was decided this morning—whatever Elias's ultimate fate—would begin as carefully controlled information.

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"Perhaps we should start by inviting Elias to tell us about himself." It was Constance, now in her role as high collector.

They waited for him to begin. Elias had told this story before, but he suspected his audience today knew much of it already, that they were digging for something else. He would not hide anything he didn't need to. "I grew up in Acreton," he said, "a small town in Sapphire's Reach. My mother raised me, and my father died before I could really remember him, though he has since reentered my life in an unexpected way."

"When did you first discover you were a collector?" Constance inquired.

"After I moved to Sailor's Rise. A few months after I first met you, in fact. I guess that was four years ago."

High Collector Zylas took his turn next: "After you discovered your power, did you ever speak openly to another collector about it?"

It was the first question Elias had to consider extra carefully—if not for his own sake, then surely Jalander's. Even if they were no longer on speaking terms, he still owed the man a great debt. "Not openly."

He assumed, hoped, it was the answer Constance wished him to provide. As ever, her inscrutable countenance gave nothing away.

"How, then, did you learn about your talents with no one to guide you?" High Collector Redcaller's question carried the cadence of an accusation.

It might have been a difficult one to answer, as well, had Elias not prepared for it in advance. "There was some trial and error," he said. "A lot of trial and error. And there were the books and notes my father left behind. My mother revealed them to me before she died, and I'll admit I was confused at first. I thought maybe my father was mad. He could have been. I didn't really know him."

The high collectors seemed to stiffen in unison, exchanging heavy glances, minus Lucas, who looked as limber and entertained as ever. They had known Sylas Emerand. Certainly, they had known him better than Elias, who nonetheless was overstating his ignorance.

"And then I dreamed the dream," Elias told them. "You can imagine how the rest unfolds."

"So, you have been an awoken collector for four years now," High Collector Zylas summarized. "But lately, you have been utilizing sky rifts for travel in your airship"—he looked down at a piece of paper—"The Sapphire Spirit. Even a collector with the sight generally requires a map to travel through rifts effectively. Do you possess such a map?"

Elias had prepared for this too. "It is not as nice as the ones you have, but I do indeed have my own map. It was another gift I inherited from my father. I suppose he had drawn it from memory."

"The second thing one requires in order to travel as you have traveled is the power of an ascendant." High Collector Zylas leaned forward, fingers in a steeple. "Which means you ascended on your own. Is that correct?"

"It is."

"And how recently did this happen?"

"It was right after I won The Emerald Cup. I suddenly had access to a lot of relics, as you can imagine, and we needed to be somewhere fast, faster than would otherwise be possible. We still weren't fast enough in the end, but I managed to ascend and took us through a sky rift. It was the wrong sky rift actually, which was why we were still late." Elias shrugged. "Beginner's mistake."

"How old were you at this time?" High Collector Redcaller asked.

"Nineteen."

More glances were exchanged. They looked surprised.

"And how old are you now?"

"Twenty-one, but twenty-two is just around the corner." Elias tossed up both hands, acting the part of a wizened senior. "Time flies, I guess."

Mr. Grimsby, a man who cast everyone around him in a younger light, took control of the conversation once more: "Is there anything else you wish to tell us before we make our decision?"

What secrets had he left unturned? A few, Elias supposed, and his relationship with Jalander was not even the most damning of them. He thought once more of Orin. No, he would not mention that little incident—not now, not ever, not even to those he trusted most. As bad as things might get for him this morning, it would pale in comparison to a punishment for murder, for he was certain they would see it that way and not his way.

There was, however, something he did in fact wish to tell them, something they surely knew but that bore repeating. "I have a life," Elias said. "I have a business. I have partners, clients, employees—people who depend on me. I'm not a teenager anymore. I cannot simply drop everything and disappear. I've done that once. I cannot do it again."

Constance was squinting at him. Had he been too forthright?

"My father once told me something I have never forgotten," Mr. Grimsby replied, though it sounded more like he was speaking to himself. "I too had a father, if you can believe it. This is ancient wisdom, yes." The old man chuckled, lost the thread of where he was going, then promptly found it again. "He said to me, Bart, never coerce a man you might entice. Permit me, Mr. Vice, to sell you on the Valshynar. After all, we are both traders, you and I."

Elias nodded, unsure where this was going.

"Before the Valshynar united collectors under a single banner, there were many… incidents among our kind. Incidents that harmed people, that harmed us, that harmed others. Tell me, would you wish to live in a city without laws?"

"It is my understanding that the Five Great Schools also provided order," Elias said honestly.

"On the best of days," Mr. Grimsby half-agreed. "I will not regale you with every indiscretion, but needless to say, one by one, the other schools agreed to a new arrangement. One that was as much about the future as our past. We wanted to build something bigger and better—together. To create a community, a real home here at the Gray Academy. We had been circling about the Great Continent like nomads for centuries. It was time to stop spiraling and settle down."

"And yet, collectors today have no say over whether they join or leave the Valshynar," Elias said. "They cannot choose what they do or where they go. Or so I've read."

"Have you?" Mr. Grimsby wondered. "While there is a sprinkling of truth in that, it is a gross oversimplification. We listen carefully. We consider deeply. It is not so much that we, the high collectors, tell other Valshynar what to do or where to go. We are their representatives. It is why this council is made up of individuals from each of the once great schools. I bet you were expecting a bunch of old Valshynarians, and yet I am the only one." He was not entirely wrong about that assumption. "We think, act, and thrive as a collective. You and I both live in Sailor's Rise, so I trust you have a better perspective on this than many of your peers. Tell me, Mr. Vice, how many citizens of that great city truly enjoy freedom?" He paused, letting his voice soften. "A dream forever unrealized is not freedom. A squalid shelter in Lowtown is more prisonlike than any room you will find here at the academy. We put the betterment of all before the fortunes of the few."

"Join the winning side, Elias," Lucas added, speaking his first words.

Mr. Grimsby shook his head. "It is not a competition, Lucas. There are no sides."

The youngest high collector at their crescent moon table appeared to have annoyed the oldest one.

But it was a pitch well received. Constance had made her own a while back, when Elias was first provided an opportunity to join their ranks in secret. While Mr. Grimsby focused on his vision for the Valshynar, Constance had been more pragmatic: collectors were dangerous, she'd said, especially rogue collectors.

Elias, however, was neither impoverished nor a threat to anyone but himself. He still was not interested in their offer. Mr. Grimsby had said he preferred to entice people, but Elias could not help but wonder whether he, too, was multi-layered. Would rejection reveal another face beneath this friendly one?

And then he returned to an idea, poking him from inside his jacket pocket.

He pulled out the letter confirming that he, Elias Vice, chief proprietor of The Two Worlds Trading Company, had been granted a seat in the House of Merchants. He unfurled the piece of paper and held it out before them, as if anyone could read its small text from across the room, and said, "I can be useful to you in another way. This letter confirms my company is now one of the biggest in Sailor's Rise. Well, the ninety-ninth biggest, but the important thing is I'm getting a seat in the House of Merchants. I can vote. I'll hear things, things sitting companies might not wish to say in front of their council chair." He waved the letter toward the chair in question. "Let me live my life, and I'll be an important pair of ears for the Valshynar."

He did not love the idea, but it seemed like his best one. Relics were often considered the Great Continent's universal currency, but as Bertrand had once remarked, there was nothing more valuable in life or in business than good old-fashioned leverage.

"Can you confirm the truth of this, High Collector Grimsby?" High Collector Redcaller turned her head.

"I can," Mr. Grimsby said. "It is… an interesting proposition."

"You do understand what this would entail?" It was High Collector Redcaller again. "You would still be one of us, loyal to us, open with us. You would be stationed as an informant in Sailor's Rise."

Elias nodded. Nodding was easier than feigning enthusiasm.

"He also has the sight and two airships," Constance added. "A few years back, one of our own, Jalander, hired his company to acquire an artifact in Saint Albus. Elias had no idea who Jalander truly was, of course, but the fact remains that he has resources and no public connection to us. He may, indeed, be more useful out there than in here."

Elias contained a growing grin as he observed their loosening expressions. He would thank Constance later.

"Before making any final decisions, we must first better understand you, Mr. Vice. Who you are, what you know, what you're capable of." High Collector Zylas was tapping his ring-covered fingers on the table.

"Whatever you need," Elias eagerly agreed. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"It means you will be tested," Lucas said, meeting his gaze and smiling his handsome smile.