“What do you wanna know again? You blabber so much, it made me forget about it,” Freya said, annoyed. She lit a cigarette and sat opposite to him. Klein didn’t smoke. He had enough smoke in his lungs for multiple lifetimes just by living in the Charting. The smell of the once familiar cigarette filled him, and he lost himself in the memories of the past for just a single instance.

  “Would Benson be okay with you sitting here with me?” He asked her. He had imagined the conversation to take place after she was done with her shift, not now. He wasn’t complaining, but he’d rather not bother her if it meant she lost on her salary.

  “Do you think many people come here? Take a look around,” She took a puff of the cigarette as she said.

  Klein took a proper look at the cafe once again. Apart from one or two people who sipped on their coffees extremely slowly, there was hardly anyone. The cafe was as dead as the Borough had become.

  “Fair enough,” Klein thought over the question he wanted to ask, “Has something happened? This place… feels weird all of a sudden,”

  “Why do you say so? What did you notice? How long have you been in the Borough?”

  “I only came here a few minutes ago. And it feels like there are way too many eyes on me. Like the whole Borough is sitting on gunpowder, waiting to be lit by one person, or groups. I always knew that gangs roamed here, and that lot of crime strolled through these streets, but somehow the scale of it feels overwhelming,” Klein tried to explain. Honestly, even he was unsure why he felt that.

  “Well congrat-fucking-lations. You already know the gist of it then, you don’t even need me,” She said with a smirk.

  “I wanna know what made it this. Something must’ve happened, no?”

  Freya didn’t say anything for a few minutes. She sat there, burned paper and stared through the tinted glasses, as if she burned through the very memories of the time the changes began.

  “It was a few years ago. Maybe two, three? I don’t know. The time blurs, but the event remains. It was on the night of a shower. We were all inside our houses, cramped body against body, when we saw it. In the distance, among the factories, a bright light flashed. Something shifted, and then the screams came.

  “Initially we thought that something must have changed by the Shower into something dangerous. But that wasn’t it. The screams were different, it came from everywhere. Like a chorus of pain which rang through the dark night.

  “It was only in the morning when we realised what had happened. The guards had screamed, and some of them even died. Nobody knew why, and no one cared much for it anyway. Their bodies were simply dumped in the Charting the same morning. Nobody understood what happened, and the sick guards couldn’t explain much. The ones who can say anything said that their hearts are grabbed. Or whatever the bullshit that means-”

  “Wait, the guards said that their hearts were grabbed?” Klein asked, confused, a hint of recognition in his voice.

  “Yea, or whatever that means. You know them. They are Stiffers, stuck with shitty powers guarding the slums. They must’ve all drunk something bad or whatever and had a heart attack. That’s not the main point anyway.” She smoked another puff, stopping her narration for a few seconds.

  Klein unwound himself, shifted in his seat. The piece was here. Why can’t I feel it? Is it already used? Klein looked at the goose, as if for confirmation of his thoughts, and got nothing out of it.

  “Do they still feel like someone grabs their heart?” He asked.

  “No idea. The stuck-ups removed the guards after they failed at their jobs due to this ‘heart-condition’. It’s mostly just failed army men guarding as patrols. To be honest, I hate them more. They have this built up anger at their own shitiness, and they take it out on us. It’s a full on shit out there, I swear,” she grumbled.

  “Anyway, the screams. Yes. After that night, things started becoming weirder. The next day, some people came and took over the factory the light came from. Brought it proper, hard cash. The Jonar family left the same evening. Never saw someone so happy to leave,

  “Things have been weird since then. Unknown goners have increased, they just die or are kidnapped without anyone knowing. New factories have opened, some are closed and demolished, and carts and barrels of stuff pass through the Borough without a single person knowing what’s in it. Everyone knows something is happening, but everytime someone gets a bit greedy and tries to know more than they are supposed to, they join the goners. Gone like the news.” She puffed a long drag as if to punctuate her point.

  Klein looked at the rolling and swirling body of gas, and wondered if this adventure was really worth it. If he could actually do something here?

  He sighed, and waved the smoke away. He looked at his coffee and it had gotten cold. He wondered if he could reheat the coffee somehow. He tried his skill, wishing for a transmutation of the coldness of the coffee to heat. Nothing happened. He tried something else, maybe to reflect the coldness out of the coffee itself? He still didn’t understand how that could even work, but it did and that’s what he wanted.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  He cast the skill, and this time he felt the coffee actually get hot. The very concept of coldness reflected out of the coffee. It didn’t bring the coffee to a scalding hot, but it was enough. He removed the effect before he drank it.

  “Thank you for your patience, and the information. I suppose the work is too much for me indeed. I’ll have to refuse my contractor in that case. Here, for your trouble,” He brought out a few silvers. Physically fetched it, rather than levitate them out with his mana shaping.

  “Quite generous, Kle,” She snatched it without any question, and stood up to leave. “You do that. Make some mage money, don’t get drawn here again. Bye.” She went away as she said that.

  Klein sighed, finished his coffee, and walked out too. The goose honked in his hands, and looked at him with a questioning gaze.

  “Let’s go see what that factory is like, right?” Klein smiled, and walked inside.

  He tried to shake the bad feeling about it all. He tried to shake the feeling that he was being watched. He tried.

  #

  Klein cursed as he rounded up the corner, and a sick feeling caught him. It was the one he remembered, from back then. It was the feeling of such a fleeting life, like his heart belonged to someone else and was gripped in their hands.

  It was still light, like it had just brushed fingers against his. But it was there, and it sickened him. Klein stumbled a few steps, the goose flew out of his grip, and looked at him with concern.

  After a few deep breaths, he stabilised himself, and smiled. The piece is really here. He didn’t know why he hadn’t felt it earlier, when the guards had felt it all across the Borough, but that was another mystery for some other time.

  He looked at the goose, and said slowly, “The piece is really here, little guy,”

  The goose honked back slowly. Klein chuckled, and looked at the factory in front of him.

  It was there, across the street, a black block of a building. Chimneys jutted out of the block, bellowing dark smoke. Klein felt the smoke settle in his lungs, the familiarity of it all dawned on him again. He realised how he hated this feeling. He hated being here.

  He couldn’t see anyone out, except for two guards who patrolled the building. They glanced at him a few times, showed off the guns in their possession, and then went back to their patrol. Klein didn’t need to see more to understand their meaning.

  “Okay. How are we supposed to go inside?” He walked out of the guards’ sight, looked at the goose and asked.

  It in return, tilted its head to a side, stared back at him, and then shrugged its feathers. It took flight, its body glowed in the familiar sensation of its powers activated, and then it landed on one of the windows.

  Klein stared at it in shock, chuckled and shook his head. He keeps forgetting it can fly.

  Klein looked around as the bird did its job. He still feared that someone watched them, like someone was out for him and specifically him. He felt silly for that thought. Paranoid too. But he couldn’t shake the thought away once it took root in his mind.

  A few minutes later, the bird was finally back and Klein sighed in relief. He was ready to get out of this place. His nerves had been taut for far too long, and his heart grasped far longer than he wanted his heart to be. He picked it up and walked out. Running there would have been a direct admission that he was out here doing something bad. And with so much paranoia fueling his body, he was far from making that silly of a mistake.

  A few minutes later he was finally out of the Borough, the sight of the better parts of the city brought him much needed relief.

  When he tried to get a carriage back to the academy, he realised he had no money. He checked his pockets, double checked them, and then triple checked it. There were none. He remembered bringing a few silver, and yet there was none.

  He looked back at the Charting Borough, sighed, and walked back to the academy.

  #

  “Did you get what we wanted?” Klein asked as he slumped against the chair, his legs screamed at him from all the walk. I should be more physical.

  The bird honked in agreement. Klein sweeped the dust which still lay on his desk, and threw it in the air.

  “12 guards. 3 Stiffers.”

  “Fuck! That’s too much! How are we supposed to deal with this?” Klein roared. The mission looked like it was doomed before it even began.

  “Doable. Need practice. Planning. Stuff.”

  “What stuff?”

  “Guns. Bombs.”

  “Bombs?”

  “Bombs.”

  “Bombs….”

  He didn’t say anything after that. Would bombs work? They might just bring more attention to them. Guns could be silenced, but not bombs.

  Bombs would definitely not work. But guns, I could bring. Maybe I can even improve upon it with my skill? Would that be enough though? I’d have to try.

  He looked at the goose. It was a constant thought in his head, but he always felt weird to call it goose in his mind.

  “Do you have a name?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is it?”

  “Sir Honksalot.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re male? And who came up with that name?”

  “Yes. Myself. Just now.”

  Klein stared at the bird, dumbfounded.

  “Can I change it?”

  “Do you wanna die?”

  “You are Honker from now on.”

  The bird honked and charged at him. Klein, who had seen death in the eyes and came back stronger, backed against the charging bird. Soon, his room was filled with the honks of an insistent bird, and the laughter of a boy being chased by the bird.

  #