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Once again, Klein found himself standing warily in the Captain’s office, looking at the seemingly innocent stick sitting on the table. Beside it was a stack of documents and a letter bearing the Church of Evernight’s insignia.
After the incident that occurred the day before, Klein had struggled to get a wink of sleep, resulting in a less-than-pristine appearance and sluggish movements. However, despite his thoughts moving like molasses, he was still capable of basic math. In essence, he’d already put 2 and 2 together and guessed what sort of trouble he had gotten himself into.
“So you’re telling me,” Klein began, sparing another glance at the stick, “that thing is a sacred artifact?” The disbelief in his voice was palpable. Across from him, holding a paper in his hand, the Captain nodded in grim seriousness.
“It would appear so,” Dunn replied calmly, despite the slight tremor in his hand betraying his thoughts. “Apparently, it’s an unofficial holy relic that’s been safekept by the Goddess Herself. For the Lady to bestow this upon you…”
Swallowing, Klein closed his eyes in resignation. There was no escaping this designation, was there?
“You don’t mean…”
“It’s been confirmed by the Holy See. Klein Moretti, you are a Blessed of the Evernight Goddess.”
Great. Just what I needed, a spotlight to make me stand out even more.
“Here is the corresponding file on sealed artifact 1-101. From now on, you are its sole wielder,” the Captain continued, handing the documents to the despondent Seer.
Taking the documents, Klein stared at them for a moment before turning back to the Nightmare. “Isn’t there some type of manual for this?”
The older man chuckled. “I’m afraid not. But do not fear, the Goddess would not have given you this gift if She did not believe you are worthy.” He stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “If not yourself, trust in Her judgment.”
Her judgment and my actions are two vastly different things. If I were to take this stick and whack you with it, would you still call it Her judgment?
With a sigh, Klein accepted his fate. “Yes, Captain.” He then hesitated on his next sentence. “Um… Will being a Blessed change anything?”
The Captain fell silent, considering the question in great depth. Finally, he shook his head.
“Not at the moment. Although being a Blessed often entails preferential treatment, since we’ve been ordered to keep your new status secret, you will continue to act as an ordinary Nighthawk until further notice.” The Captain then gave him an amused look. “But do try to stay out of trouble for now on.”
Klein felt his spirit wane further at the comment.
Yep. It’s official. I’m the designated trouble magnet on the team.
Farewell, my good name. You will be missed.
Heading towards the exit, Dunn gave Klein another firm pat. “I must go relieve Royale at the gates. Why don’t you head to the breakroom to rest for a while? Afterward, you can attend your lesson with Old Neil.”
Feeling the weight of mental exhaustion and sleep deprivation, Klein numbly agreed, and then watched as the other exited the room, closing the door, leaving him alone with his whirling thoughts and doubts.
Somewhere in that silence, his eyes found their way towards the stick, eyeing it with trepidation. For all he knew, that thing could spring up and try to bite him. He’d seen enough with 2-049 and 3-0625 to know innocent looks could be deceiving. The fact that both were puppets with working mouths did not convince him that the stick was exempt from that list. In fact, a biting stick without a mouth would be even more terrifying.
Forcibly clearing his head, Klein mustered the courage to read the files Dunn had handed him. He skimmed the text while the stick remained within his line of sight. He began with the telegram the Captain had received.
Upon reading, Klein realized the Captain had glossed over some of the details, or had likely forgotten them in lieu of the more important aspect of him becoming a Blessed.
While the telegram specified Klein would remain in Tingen for the time being, it also mentioned the addition of certain benefits that would take immediate effect. One of which was the access to higher-grade materials and knowledge within the church, giving him a security clearance on par with the Captain. Not only that, it seemed the church had given him the equivalent of a company card, allowing him to file additional, unexpected expenses as church expenditures should the need arise. He felt a slight quiver in his chest as he read those words in particular. Old Neil would have a field day and certainly try to take advantage if he ever found out.
After finishing the document, Klein set it down and moved on to the file on 1-101, only to realize the file was fairly small compared to the telegram.
“Is this it?” Klein wondered out loud in confusion. “Is there little information because the Goddess kept it hidden? Or is it because my security clearance is still too low, even as a Blessed?” With no way to know, Klein busied himself with the file.
Case File: 1-101
Classification: Non-living sealed artifact
History:
Previously nicknamed the whacking stick, this stick once belonged to the Blasphemer. This sealed artifact is the result of an Apprentice Pathway Characteristic of an unknown sequence fusing with an ordinary tree branch. It was once active during the 4th epoch. It was later confiscated, sealed, and acquired by the Church of the Evernight Goddess.
Abilities:
When touched, the target will be sent hurdling hundreds of meters away from its original position. Artifact 1-101 also manifests the ability to make the target disappear altogether, only to reappear days later. This ability can not be activated at will. The probability of this effect occurring is 10%.
Side Effects:
Side effects include nausea and vertigo for five minutes after each use. Side effects accumulate when used in quick succession.
Case Studies:
…
…
What’s this? Klein thought, squinting as he moved the page around in different directions. Yet, despite whichever way he moved it, the blurred words on the document would not reveal themselves.
Why can’t I make out some parts of the report… Is this the Church’s way of redacting information? He glared at the page as if it were mocking him. Well, it’s effective.
But as the master of this artifact, shouldn’t I know all this is to it? Or perhaps the information is too dangerous for me to know at my current level… Wait, can documents have progression locks now? Just when he thought he was beginning to understand the world, it kept throwing curveballs at him. He sighed. This wasn’t making him feel any better about becoming a Blessed.
“Is it too early to apply for a vacation?”
Receiving no response, the Seer looked helplessly at the stick and then the file, darting between the two before groaning. “Is there really no handling restrictions on this thing? No cloth, gloves, or anything that will keep it from interacting with the outside world?” He waved his hands around before they settled in his hair. “Is that legal? Am I allowed to just carry it around like that? All the other sealed artifacts come with their own cases…”
Scratching his head, Klein considered going after the Captain and asking to borrow a cloth at the very least. He didn’t feel all too confident in carrying around an item that batted everything it touched into oblivion without any protection.
“Maybe I’m overthinking it… It’ll remain inert as long as I don’t infuse it with spirituality. That’s usually how it works, right?”
Gathering every shred of confidence he had, Klein deftly pucked up the plain-looking stick from the table and held it gingerly in his hands. It was then that another problem made itself known.
Wait, how am I meant to carry this in public? It’s one thing if it’s a cane, but a stick? Klein imagined the ridicule he’d receive if he suddenly switched his cane for a stick. No gentleman in his right mind would ever walk around with an ordinary stick in his hand.
Maybe I should just keep it here then… No, wait, that also defeats the purpose of why I wanted a weapon in the first place!
Rubbing his face with his free hand, Klein concluded that there really was no winning in this situation. In the end, he simply took the stick and began walking in the direction of the breakroom with his cane tucked securely under his arm. He’d have to ask the Captain for his opinion on the topic later.
However, upon exiting the office, he nearly bumped into Rozanne, who was carrying a tray laden with dishes. She stared at him for a moment before breaking out into an excited grin that sent a wave of discomfort down Klein’s spine. Alright, what is it this time?
“Klein! Just the man I was hoping to see,” Rozanne greeted, waiting for the other to fall in step with her. Her grin widened when Klein returned the greeting with a polite smile.
“Tell me,” Rozanne began, looking around conspiringly. “What’s this about something extraordinary happening yesterday? I heard the Captain even had to message the Holy Cathedral.”
Brow twitching, Klein gave an awkward laugh. “Unfortunately, I don’t know much more than you do. A lot happened yesterday. Maybe the Captain had to send a telegram to the Cathedral regarding Sirius?”
“Who’s Sirius?” Rozanne asked curiously. It seemed she really hadn’t been kept in the loop. With a sigh, Klein decided to explain.
“He’s a Beyonder I tracked yesterday due to a case,” Klein answered. He avoided mentioning how Sirius lost control and was subsequently clubbed to death by the Seer. It wasn’t that he feared the information making its rounds; the Nighthawks certainly knew after all, but rather he was trying to spare Rozanne the gruesome details. For someone sensitive to Beyonder violence, mentioning the encounter in full, bloody detail was one way to worsen an already present trauma. And after losing her father, Klein could see why the others chose to keep such details hidden from her.
“Oh,” Rozanne uttered, unaware of Klein’s thought. “So maybe it was that,” she allowed, accepting the answer. She then turned back to Klein with a frown. “It’s just that everyone’s been so tight-lipped about it…”
Klein lifted a brow at that. “Then how did you know something happened?”
“Leonard,” came the immediate answer.
Closing his eyes, Klein cursed inwardly. Of course it was. Just like he gathered all the Nighthawks for an impromptu meeting yesterday. With a sigh, he allowed them to continue their slow walk towards the breakroom. However, as Klein opened the door for Rozanne, who still had her hands full, her gaze fixated on something in his arms.
“Klein, why do you have a stick?”
Oh no, I forgot!
“Oh, this?” The Seer replied with a smile. “This is something I picked up during the investigation. The Captain told me to keep an eye on it.”
“It’s a stick,” Rozanne emphasized. She looked at the offending tree limb with suspicion and leaned in for a better look. “Why would the Captain ask you to–”
“Wait, Rozanne, don’t–”
What happened next could have been a skit taken out of a slapstick comedy.
As Rozanne leaned forward to get a good look at 1-101, she lost her footing, causing the weight of the teetering dishes on her tray to sway toward Klein. The young Seer, noticing the incoming peril, reacted without thought, aiming to steady the clumsy receptionist and her load. However, while consciously keeping the stick in his hand, he had accidentally let the cane under his arm fall to the ground. It was then, while he allowed Rozanne to rest her weight on him, that he stepped on the cane’s smooth surface and rolled.
For an instant, Klein became a real clown, fighting to remain upright on a moving surface while juggling the items in his arms. But unlike professional clowns with years of experience, Klein only had two lifetimes of sedentary life and slow reflexes to show for it. So naturally, his ten-second act ended in failure.
Before the wide eyes of his comrades assembled in the breakroom, Klein Moretti surrendered gracefully to gravity, arms wide and outstretched with a serene smile of someone who had accepted his fate. And just as he was about to close his eyes in anticipation of sweet nothingness in the face of the social death he was about to experience, he noticed something flying in the air…
The stick!
Alarmed, his expression changed instantly, no longer hoping the fall would knock him unconscious. Instead, he reached out, almost pleading for the stick to return to his waiting hand. But instead, the stick with no living characteristics continued spinning in the air, flying towards the unsuspecting back of a certain protagonist playing cards.
In horror, Klein watched as the stick hurdled towards a distracted Leonard, who, mercifully, had not turned around throughout the commotion behind him. But now that decision was coming to bite him on the ass. Not literally, he hoped.
“Leonard!”
Like slow motion, at the sound of his name, the poet turned around in confusion, brows furrowed as he dragged his eyes from the cards in his hand towards the flailing Seer. As their eyes met, Leonard’s expression faltered as he took in the chaotic scene before him. However, he never got the chance to look up as the twirling stick bonked him on the head the next second.
One moment, he was there. The next, he was gone. The unassuming stick clattered loudly to the ground as the room fell dead silent, even with the sound of shattering porcelain.
Klein wobbled to his feet in anguish.
It can’t be… Klein thought, stepping further into the room. He had only managed to breach the threshold when the world began to spin, and his stomach lurched. Not now!
Floundering, Klein collapsed, crawling to the wastebasket by the door just as everyone else came to their sense. Behind him, Rozanne let out an ear-piercing screech.
“Oh no, Leonard!” she wailed, looking around for help. She then turned to the young man who was dry heaving on the floor.
“Klein!” She yelled as she dropped to his side, ignoring the ceramic shards on the ground. “Now is not the time to go into shock!” She cried as she shook him.
Lady, you're making it worse! Klein cried as the shaking only exacerbated his nausea. Will someone please do something?!
“Why is nobody doing anything?!” Rozanne’s voice continued to cut through the silence, addressing the other Nighthawks in the room.
Thank you. Klein thanked Rozanne for voicing his thoughts. Hold on, how did Rozanne become the voice of reason in this? Lifting his head, Klein managed to look at his colleagues with a questioning gaze, just as they lifted their hands to point to the corner of the room in answer.
Silently muttering to himself was Old Neil with his moonstone pendulum in hand.
Ah, that makes sense, he thought as another wave of nausea assaulted him. Then, from his corner of the room, Old Neil stood, a warm smile gracing his lips after receiving a positive response.
“Don’t worry too much, lass,” Old Neil said reassuringly. “Klein’s condition is probably the result of the sealed artifact in his possession. He should be fine in a while. As for the other one– Good news. Young Leonard is still alive!”
Klein hugged the wastebasket in relief. Weakly, he lifted his hand to give Old Neil a thumbs-up as he began retching again. He was quite fortunate that he’d skipped breakfast that morning due to a lack of appetite. But that did nothing to alleviate 1-101’s side effects. The sound of nearby footsteps caught his attention again.
“Well, if you excuse me, I’ll be heading out to find something to help locate Leonard,” Old Neil said from above. Klein felt a hand lightly tossle his hair, and judging from Rozanne’s sudden silence, Old Neil had done the same to her. Just as the elder made his way through the door, he turned back and yelled into the breakroom.
“Kenley, go notify the Captain!”
“Oh, right,” Kenley muttered to himself as he skirted around the stick on the floor and ran down the hall, his pounding steps disappearing as quickly as they began.
From his position on the floor, Klein continued coughing miserably while Rozanne continued rubbing his back, occasionally letting out quiet sniffles. Around them, Royale, Frye, and Seeka finally jumped into action, cleaning up the room as the two tried to calm down.
Goddess, why? All I wanted was a dependable weapon, like a sword or gun– not a comedic weapon of mass destruction! As his small frame gave another weak shudder, he thought back to his now missing companion.
Oh, poet, I’m so, so sorry…
In an unknown location…
Leonard blinked in disorientation, unsure what he was looking at. Just moments before, he had been playing a game of Fighting Evil with Royale and Frye when he heard his name called in panic. His intuition had flared moments before, but before he could make sense of anything, he felt something hit him on the head. The last thing he remembered seeing before the scene changed drastically was Klein, one arm reaching out for him as he fell backward, surrounded by falling plates. The next thing he knew, he was somehow in the middle of a forest with no clue as to how he got there. He looked down at the cards still in his hand.
Shame, he had a good hand this round.
“Old Man, where are we?” Leonard decided to ask with no one else to consult. Inside, he felt the Old man stir, but this time, it felt… hesitant?
‘How would I know…’ was the haggard reply.
Odd, thought Leonard, noticing how worn the Old Man sounded just then. Had whatever transported them affected him, too?
“Are you alright?” Leonard asked kindly, hoping the other wouldn’t deflect, as he was known to do.
A cough sounded in his mind. ‘Just fine,’ the voice groused. ‘You’re quite fortunate. Anything else from that artifact would have resulted in grievous injury or death,’ it continued.
“Artifact?” Leonard asked in alarm. At what point did a seal artifact come into play? Did one somehow escape Chanis Gate without anyone noticing? But the Captain was down there. Was he okay?
What happened to the alarm! Leonard asked himself in panic. None of it made sense!
Having mercy on his host, the parasite decided to clarify.
‘The stick.’
“Oh,” Leonard said, enlightened. “Wait– Klein’s stick did this?!”
Birds flew off at the sound of his voice, startled by the loud noise.
The ancient voice in his head sighed.
‘It would appear so. Had you been paying any attention to your surroundings, you wouldn’t be in this predicament, now would you? You reap what you sow, boy.’
Leonard felt his cheeks begin to color at the harsh words. He had believed he was in a safe environment with fellow Beyonders to help respond in a worst-case scenario; excuse him for trying to relax a little.
“Why do you have to nag at me like a grandma? I’m asking for help here!” Leonard sputtered in embarrassment. He couldn’t see the Old Man, but he could almost feel the disappointment radiating from him.
‘This is beyond my current abilities,’ the other admitted. He paused before continuing. ‘But I do have a suggestion.’
“What?” Leonard asked, a flicker of hope echoing in his voice.
‘Start walking,’ the old man replied ruthlessly. ‘I highly doubt you want to spend the night in a forest like a vagrant. The sooner you find civilization, the sooner you can find a way home. Now get moving.’
Lost, Leonard took another cursory look at the forest around him. Everything looked the same at first glance. His eyes climbed up, catching sight of the sun in the sky. It was still where it was when he had habitually glanced out the window to check the time. This meant that at least time remained the same, despite his location remaining a mystery.
Instantaneous travel, what a powerful ability, Leonard thought in awe. Shaking his head, the poet forced himself back into the right mindframe, drawing on his years of Nighthawk training. He started by taking into account what was on his person.
Keys, wallet, badge, Goddess’s Gaze, dream charm, pocket watch, gun, cards… Huh, everything teleported with me, that’s great! Otherwise, I’d probably be standing in the middle of the forest butt naked… He shuddered.
Now that’s a terrifying thought.
Armed with a gun and with money in his pocket, Leonard felt his odds of getting home were much better than he had originally expected. With that, he had the means to defend himself and acquire food and shelter the moment he arrived at a nearby city. The only issue now was getting to said city. He rubbed his chin in thought. He lacked a compass, so he had to rely on the sun’s position to keep track of his direction. Moving east would probably be his best bet, considering most of Leon’s largest cities were built along the ocean and rivers…
Uncertainty suddenly bubbled in his chest.
“Are we even still in Leon?” Leonard asked out loud, fearing the alternative. Once again, the Old Man took pity on him.
‘The distance the stick sends someone is dependent on the wielder’s strength. Be glad it’s just a sequence 9.’
You seem very knowledgeable on this topic, Leonard commented inwardly. “Have you dealt with this artifact before?” he asked curiously.
Silence was the response.
Knowing that was the best he was going to get out of the tight-lipped entity in his head, Leonard began walking with a sigh.
It was going to be a long day.
Several hours later, just as the sun was about to set over the horizon, Leonard stumbled upon the outskirts of a very familiar city.
“I’m back!” Leonard called in excitement, earlier exhaustion forgotten as he began jogging down paved roads.
On his long journey, he had stumbled upon many forgotten and interesting sights, including a very flowery and lively clearing. In the middle of this clearing was a massive cave that led deeper into the earth’s depths. When he drew closer to inspect the strange sight, the Old Man immediately chased him off, telling him to leave the sightseeing for another day. The Old Man’s strong response to the clearing left him slightly unsettled. After all, the clearing was very beautiful. It was definitely a place someone would try to bring a date to, or write poetry about. However, the ominous cave didn’t look too inviting. Maybe the Old Man was on to something. But that was thought for another day.
As he ran, he turned down Zouteland Street with growing anticipation. Then, at the foot of the steps leading up to the security company, did he finally stop to catch his breath.
A wide smile spread across his face, only to fall slightly when he realized the door was locked despite it being working hours.
Retrieving his keys from his pocket, he unlocked the door and pushed inside. The lights were still on, but there was no one at the reception desk. Entering further, Leonard let the front door close noisily behind him.
He hadn’t moved more than a few feet from the entrance when footsteps thundered down the hallway. There, from the partition, Rozanne, Kenley, and Frye looked at him with disbelieving eyes.
“You’re back!” the two youngest in the group cried, practically tackling him in a hug. Behind them, advancing at a slower pace, Fyre approached and placed a warm hand on his shoulder.
“Welcome back,” Frye said before gently dislodging the others from Leonard’s person.
“Where’s everyone else?” Leonard asked, noting they were still missing a few people. An older voice answered from the hall.
“Royale just went to get Dunn,” Old Neil said as he emerged from the hall. “He’s downstairs in the guard room. He’s been exchanging telegrams with the church all day. Seeka is guarding Chanis Gates in his stead, and Klein, well…” A fond smile broke out on his face. “You should see for yourself.”
The Mystery Pryer then led everyone back to the breakroom, where everything had started. As they approached, Leonard noticed a distinct lack of ceramic shards. Thankfully, the mess from earlier had been cleaned up, but his eyes still found scratchmarks marring the wooden surface.
Then, stopping in front of the door, Old Neil turned in Leonard’s direction. He placed a finger to his lips, signaling to the Midnight Poet to stay quiet before pushing open the door. He then gestured for the other to go on ahead.
Stepping inside, Leonard immediately identified Klein’s slumped form resting on one of the couches in the middle of the room. His back was to the door, only his head and shoulders visible from behind the couch’s back rest. As he walked closer, he noticed stacks of paper on the central coffee table. Upon closer inspection, he saw that each page had an image of his likeness. Old Neil appeared suddenly at his side.
“After you disappeared, Dunn suggested sending out a missing persons report to all nearby cities,” he began with fond exasperation. “Realistically, it would have taken more than a day for a printing company to reproduce these flyers for us and have them ready to ship out, but Klein insisted there wasn’t any time to lose.”
Leonard swallowed, a lump forming in his throat.
“You mean…”
Frye nodded. “Every poster here,” he confirmed.
Gazing upon the sleeping man, Leonard noted that his usual, neat, scholarly appearance was nowhere to be found. His clothes were rumpled, with creases and wrinkles everywhere. His suit jacket was thrown hastily over the sofa arm, practically falling onto the floor, leaving him with only a dress shirt and vest. There were small cuts along the knees of his pants, probably the result of his earlier misfortune. And his hair, his soft dark brown locks, were a mess, looking as if he’d run his hand through it countless times.
Leonard felt a strange warmth in his chest at the sight.
Behind him, Rozanne opened his mouth to comment on something when Old Neil covered it with his hand. With a large grin, he called back Leonard’s attention to him.
“Now that you’re back, these old bones can finally go home and rest. I think everyone here can agree to that.” He stretched and turned back to Leonard with an exaggerated frown. “Actually, you seem exhausted too. Why don’t you sit down and relax?”
In astonishment, Leonard allowed Old Neil to manhandle him and push him to sit on the sofa next to Klein. Surprisingly, the movement did not wake the sleeping Seer, a testament to how tired his colleague must be. Blinking, Leonard watched as Old Neil then proceeded to drag everyone else towards the breakroom entrance, leaving him and his sleeping companion behind.
Then, just before the door closed, Old Neil called out to them.
“Remember to get some rest~.”
The door closed with a soft click.
…
What just happened? Leonard wondered in bewilderment before focusing on the sleeping Seer beside him. His soft breathing echoed loudly in the now-silent room as red moonlight began streaming in through the uncovered window. Raising a hand, the poet hesitated before placing it on the young man’s arm. He would love to let him sleep, but he decided it would be best to let the other know he had returned safely. With gentle movements, he tried to rouse him slowly.
“Klein,” Leonard called, whispering so as not to scare him. “Klein.”
“... Leonard?” Klein mumbled as his eyes fluttered open. He struggled to focus on the man in front of him.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Leonard smiled, watching as recognition flickered across blurry eyes.
He then gasped as the Seer tipped toward without warning, his head coming to rest on the poet’s shoulder. He stilled, unsure whether to move or stay when he heard a whisper pressed against his shirt collar.
“Thank goodness.”
Shocked, Leonard listened as Klein’s breaths evened out again, plunging the room into silence once more. He looked down at the sleeping face resting comfortably on his clavicle, mere inches from his own. Suddenly, he felt all the weariness from the day hit him full force. With a sigh, he leaned further into the couch cushions, emerald eyes drifting shut.
A nap shouldn’t hurt, right?
Lulled by rhythmic breathing and warm weight on his shoulder, Leonard allowed himself to drift, quickly succumbing to slumber. Maybe the day wasn’t so bad after all…
Later, when the Captain arrived to check up on them, he would find the two huddled together on the sofa, Leonard’s arms wrapped securely around Klein’s back while he rested his head on the sleeping Seer’s head. With rumbling laughter, Dunn would pick up the discarded suit jacket and drape it over the two before retreating towards the door again.
He’d give them another hour before coming back to send them home. They had enough excitement for one day, he believed.