Chapter 35: Another Fox?

Scarlet never felt herself hit the floor. There should have been an impact. Pain. Some reaction to her body meeting stone with all the grace of a dropped sack. There wasn’t. For one thin, unstable moment, she was aware of the cool air against her face, then nothing.

Consciousness returned in fragments after that. She surfaced, sank, and surfaced again, in intervals. Finally, she came to with most of her faculties in place.

She woke to metal ringing against metal.

Ting. Tink. Ting-ting. Tink.

The sound was sharp, and regular. Scarlet did not open her eyes immediately. She kept her breathing shallow, her body still, and took inventory. She was lying on something flat and cool. A bench, perhaps, or a slab with some kind of padding. Her coat was still on. Her cane was still with her. Her storage bag was still there. Okay, so nothing had been removed.

That was good.

She opened her eyes.

The ceiling above her was smooth gray stone. So, she was no longer in the archive or the office, nor the impossible library. The corners of the room curved rather than met at hard angles, giving the entire space a continuous, enclosed feel. No cracks or seams. No decorative excess. He was staring at what appeared to be a wall. Smooth plane, no visible curves or bends, no windows, doors or entry points. That’s when she once again heard the ringing. It was a faster staccato this time.

Scarlet turned her head to find that the Historian was fighting.

Two, metal practice blades were moving so quickly that Scarlet’s enhanced perception could not properly track them. She caught flashes of motion, silver-gray arcs, the sound of feet shuffling against stone. Then, a clean metallic note as the weapons met and rebounded.

Tink. Tink. Ting.

The Historian had changed out of his robes. He wore a fitted set of dark training clothes now. Across from him stood another Vulpian, taller through the shoulders and narrower through the face, with red-orange fur marked by pale accents along his muzzle and ears. His clothing was a medium gray, and he was moving with controlled aggression.

Scarlet watched him and the Historian spar for another breath. She’d never wanted to fight like the two of them did. Sure, it would be cool. But so would having purple skin, and she never entertained those fantasies either.

She shifted carefully and could tell the poultice was still doing its work. She exhaled through her nose, pushed herself upright, and waited for gravity to reassert itself.

The Historian, during the exchange, found it easy to look at her. His ears flicked.

“Welcome back,” he said, pausing the spar for a moment as he caught the younger vulpian’s blade on his own and turned it aside with a casual movement.

Scarlet just nodded. Then she focused on her interface to check how long she was out.

Apparently, only a little over fifteen minutes had passed since the last time she had checked. That was not much. It was, however, long enough for her to be moved and deposited in what was very clearly a chamber made to withstand significant abuse.

The Historian disengaged from the spar with a light step back. The younger Vulpian stopped at once, blade lowering as he turned his attention toward her. His expression was controlled, but not friendly. Not hostile either, exactly. But he wasn’t nearly as pleased with her existence as the Historian was.

He handed his practice blade to the younger vulpian without looking and crossed the room toward her. His gaze moved over her with an uncomfortable level of intensity. “You depleted yourself,” he said, as though that was supposed to mean something to her. If she had been born with the System, it might. However, as she was, she had no context for his commentary. Sensing this he grinned.

“So fascinating,” he said, then, “You were sitting in a chair and were actively using a skill or a defensive measure to,” he looked at his notes, “obscure reactions?” It was obvious he wasn’t quite sure.

“I wasn’t using skills.” Was Scarlet’s response. Both vulpians froze. Scarlet looked between them. “What?”

The Historian’s ears tilted forward. “You were not using skills.”

“No.”

“No active skill? No sustained perception technique? No defensive focus? No internal enhancement?”

“No,” Scarlet said. Her answer was clipped, sure.

“What happened then?” The Historian asked. Obviously intrigued. At Scarlet’s continued silence, he frowned. “Little human, if you intend to beg for my expertise while refusing to provide the information required for that expertise to be useful, neither of us is ever going to get what we desire.” He shrugged and proceeded to turn away and ignore her.

“I’m not begging,” she said, quickly. “I am soliciting expertise.” She said, looking at him. The younger fox person, and the Historian just looked at her. “Also, who is this?” She asked, glancing at the younger appearing vulpian. Their ears angled back slightly.

“You can call him Tareth.” The Historian said, gesturing vaguely at the man. Tareth who’d had his mouth open to respond, promptly closed it.

She looked back at the Historian. “And he is here because?”

“This little Vulpian? Tareth is here because he is excellent at his job. Part of which included setting up this training room.” At that Scarlet took another look around the space that seemingly held nothing more than the training weapons racks. “Tareth will be helping you with your physical evaluation, combat conditioning, and more.”

Tareth’s mouth tightened. “Master.” He said quietly, through clenched teeth. The Historian did not respond.

Scarlet studied the younger Vulpian more carefully. He was obviously strong, though not like the Historian. His presence had weight, and his emotional signature was dense. The kind she associated with sapience. This was obviously a thinking, reasoning being. Yet he was thin too, and so… shallow. Like wading through a kiddie pool.

“How old are you?” Scarlet asked the guy.

Tareth blinked. “Forty-two.”

Scarlet turned to the Historian. “What is the age of majority for a vulpian?”

“Twenty.”

“Ah.” She nodded. Tareth’s tail went very still. The Historian’s grin widened until he laughed outright. That caused Tareth to stare at her as if he was trying to decide whether he should respond to her at all.

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Scarlet reached for her cane and used it to stand. “Before we do anything else, we need to discuss information control.”

The Historian’s good humor dimmed by a degree. “Information control?” He said slowly.

“Yes.”

He walked to the side of the room to put away his sword. “Explain.” He said as he then began to take off his gloves and training gear.

Scarlet focused on her Guide. Querying whether binding agreements were possible through the System.

She looked at the Historian. “System contracts exist.” She said as she silently read through the information she was being presented.

“They do,” agreed the Historian. The other Vulpian stayed silent.

“You know how to create them.” It was a statement. An educated guess, and a risk on Scarlet’s part.

“I can get access to them. Certainly.”

“Blank ones, or ones that can be filled in? You can get them. Now?” She clarified, pointing downwards to emphasize her point.

“Yes.”

Scarlet took a slow breath. “My personal information, observed capabilities, testing results, anomalous traits, and any derivative analysis produced from this process remain confidential. They are not to be shared, sold, transmitted, archived beyond your personal research notes, discussed with outside parties, or used to disadvantage me without my explicit consent. Do you agree to these terms, and would you be willing to sign a System enforceable contract stating the point?” Scarlet just up and said.