NOVEL WEB Chapter 5: The Blind Bets
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Recap for Chapter 4 — Catching Up with Cassie
Shim took over Cassie's daily operational role and became Nephis's right-hand man.
Cassie became Nephis' left-hand woman and Valor's MI5 specialising in domestic counter-intelligence (or fantasy mix of FBI / NSA / WFH-CIA for you Murican). According to the data, you folks are the majority of my readers.
Morgan lost her father's favour, even Ki Song felt bad for her.
Nephis became the golden child instead — until she attempted to defy Anvil for not wanting to seduce the Lord of Shadows, as he was an unknown variable for her upcoming insurrection. Which pissed Morgan off because she was trying to escape from her abusive family via marriage.
Anvil decided to keep every Fire Keeper as hostage until the Nameless Temple became Valor's, one way or another.
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Regardless, their mission remained — wait until the Queen of Worms and the King of Swords exhaust themselves in their war, and then stab both in the back.
A clean, brutal betrayal.
One of the many obstacles they faced was equipment. Their finest pieces were enchanted with Anvil's Will, making them instruments they could never turn against their master. This necessitated a new arsenal from an independent supplier they could trust.
It was Cassie's task to find one while Nephis travelled with Morgan to Godgrave.
Cassie focused on the physical act of walking. The established etiquette of the Dream Realm demanded that a proper lady, unless clad in heavy armour or in Waking World attire, should walk with her hands clasped and resting on her navel region.
It was a rule she ignored out of necessity — otherwise, she would be completely blind.
Her right arm swung with an uninhibited, rhythmic grace that spoke of practicality over posture.
Her left hand, however, came to rest on the familiar, cool hilt of Quiet Dancer at her waist.
This street was unknown to her. Had she walked it even once before, its every crack and cobblestone would be perfectly preserved in her mind — a flawless map rendered by the eidetic memory her Aspect had bestowed upon her.
Here, on this unfamiliar ground and with hardly a soul about at this hour whose senses she could borrow — she was truly blind.
And so, she let her Echo see for her.
The connection was habitual, seamless. As her fingers touched the hilt, her link to Quiet Dancer deepened. The world resolved itself not as a visual image, but as a unique sensory map.
The Echo had no sight, no hearing, no sense of smell. It did, however, perceive its surroundings with fine precision — sensing shapes and, especially — motion.
Through it, Cassie perceived a ghostly cartography of the world around her.
It was like navigating a wireframe sketch of reality, rendered without colour, texture, or light.
She felt the unyielding plane of the street, the softer, shifting mass of an overgrown verge, and the solid block-like presence of the row of houses lining the path.
While she walked, she muttered to herself. "I really need to make a decision soon. That prize pool for the bet is getting too ridiculous to ignore."
She and the rest of the Fire Keepers had plenty of free time. After all, everyone was under a polite quarantine, forbidden to leave Bastion until Nephis and Morgan returned.
The days stretched, long and empty. This enforced idleness was only compounded by recent events.
Following Ki Song's spectacular failure to court the Lord of Shadows, her spies' espionage activities within the Sword Domain had quieted down with unnerving abruptness.
Their focus had shifted from active sabotage to passive reconnaissance — a theatre of operations where Cassie's current skills were hardly required.
It left her with little to do but watch, wait, and think.
A few days after both princesses had left, a naughty discussion began to circulate among the mundane courtiers and Sleepers — a distraction from the shared trauma of witnessing the king's fury — Whom would the Lord of Shadows, the enigmatic Hermit Saint of Godgrave, choose as his consort?
Princess Nephis or Princess Morgan?
It soon crystallised into a scandalous betting pool.
The idea caught fire.
What started as whispers in common rooms soon drew in the Awakened.
Once Masters began placing their bets, it was inevitable that a few Saints, amused by the audacity of it all, decided to play along.
The prize pool swelled.
A few days after the betting pool's inception, the common hall — secretly repurposed for illicit bookmaking — was alive with hushed wagers.
That all stopped the moment a revered Elder from the king's inner circle walked in.
A palpable silence fell over the room.
The nervous Master in charge of bookmaking on that day nearly dropped to his knees to beg for forgiveness, but the matronly dame simply smiled — and placed a formidable sum on Princess Morgan — and departed as quietly as she had arrived.
That single act broke the final dam.
Whispers intensified and spread like wildfire, and the prize pool grew to a size that was both terrifying and tantalising.
The scale of the wager soon demanded a more sophisticated approach.
A council of Utility Aspect Saints and Masters was formed to oversee the operation.
One team was responsible for overall security and operational processes.
Another team, specialising in cypher-based Aspects, worked with several Forgemasters to design an anonymous ledger system.
A third team oversaw the construction and maintenance of a specially crafted spatial Memory to hold the prize pool.
The system they created was thoughtful designed. Bets were placed, but the identity of each bettor was obscured, linked only to a unique, untraceable glyph.
Only the final winner would be able to claim the prize, their identity forever shielded from reprisal or envy — unless they decided to brag about it.
It was this promise of absolute anonymity that heightened its irresistibility. Soon, each and every Elder in the king's inner circle had a horse in the race.
The options for the wager also deepened in complexity.
Beyond the two princesses, a third option was added — "Neither".
This was for the pragmatists who suspected the Lord of Shadows was already spoken for, or simply had no interest in the political marriages of the Great Clans to begin with.
Then, Saint Jest, in a fit of what he called "comedic foresight", insisted on a fourth option — "Both".
This was met with disgust and annoyance, as polygamy was a deep-seated taboo that clashed with the strict marital customs of both realms. And yet, the outrageous suggestion drew a surprising number of bets from the more lecherous or chaos-inclined members of the populace.
The ship war, as everyone called it — was now serious business.
It spilled from the hidden halls of the royal court into taverns and training yards alike, as commoners began their own betting pools too.
Furious brawls erupted over tankards of ale in common taverns.
At noble banquets, the conflict was meant to be more civilised, but polite conversation often devolved into a minefield of veiled insults and barbed insinuations. Occasionally, tempers would flare, and a challenge would be issued — leading to duels, which would sometimes boil over into a chaotic, free-for-all, full-blown battle royale that saw the highborns scrapping in the dirt with no more dignity than a commoner.
Loyalty itself was weaponised. A noble seen being too friendly with the opposing faction might be accused of hedging their bets — their devotion to their chosen princess vehemently questioned.
More than a few cynics cleverly justified their positions. It became a common, if bleak, refrain amongst bettors — "If my princess is to lose her heart to him, I may as well win a fortune to mend my own." For them, betting on the other side was an insurance policy against emotional devastation.
There were also those who weaponised this viral bet by taking the opportunity to earn a quick buck. Market stalls in the common areas began selling crude tokens of allegiance.
You could buy a splinter of sun-bleached wood tied with a silver ribbon for "Team Nephis", or a polished metal marked with a vermilion sigil for "Team Morgan".
These trinkets became a quick way to gauge a stranger's loyalties at a glance, and merchants happily fanned the flames of the rivalry to sell their wares.
Enterprising tavern keepers capitalised on the frenzy.
One night might be a "Morgan's Monday" offering discounted bottles to anyone who could sing a rousing song in favour of Princess Morgan.
The next might be a "Friday's Flame" featuring spiced alcohol and holding recitals of verse, where aspiring poets would share odes to Princess Nephis's grace. Of course, once a few drinks were had, these odes would often turn into scathing limericks about her rivals, usually leading to fights.
With little real information to go on, omens and portents became a form of currency.
Bets were swayed by the smallest things.
A soldier might move his coin to Princess Nephis simply because a sun-kissed bird landed on Bastion spire.
A courtier might double down on Princess Morgan after dreaming of a red moon.
Diviners with even a sliver of talent were hounded for predictions, often giving vague, crowd-pleasing answers — that only fuelled the speculation further.
A Master with a minor truth-sensing Aspect was caught charging people to "sense" the honesty of rumours.
Another with an emotional resonance Aspect would gauge the "harmony" of both princesses' names — a judgment that conveniently changed depending on who was paying for her drinks.
In the training yards, the debates were less about charm and more about combat synergy.
Supporters of Princess Nephis argued that her radiant flame would be the perfect complement to the hermit Saint's shadows.
Princess Morgan's supporters shot back that for all his skill in a fight, the Saint could not lead an army — and that is what she brought to the table.
Amongst the scholars, the arguments took on a more academic tone. They debated historical precedents, citing past alliances formed by marriage.
Some even argued from a perspective of pseudo-psychological-personality profiling.
"The Lord of Shadows is a creature of deep trauma and isolation", one might posit.
"He requires an anchor — a single point of absolute trust in a world of intrigue.
The unwavering warmth of Princess Nephis offers that — a bright beacon that doesn't scheme or calculate.
It simply is.
Her presence would simplify his world, providing a sanctuary from the paranoia his power invites.
In contrast, Princess Morgan's cunning — however valuable, represents another layer of complexity — most would prefer not to entertain."
Others would retort.
"Nonsense.
If he is a traumatised man who secluded himself and single-handedly forged himself into a deadly weapon, he must have secretly yearned for genuine understanding.
He will not trust unwavering warmth.
He must have seen it as a mask or, worse, a weakness.
What he understands is shared struggle.
Princess Morgan now spends her life walking on eggshells around a tyrannical father and sister, learning to read every shift in mood, every silent threat.
She knows the difference between a quiet moment and the calm before a storm.
She wouldn't try to "heal" the Lord of Shadows' trauma with sunshine and smiles.
She'd just get it.
That's a level of empathy Princess Nephis couldn't possibly offer, because right now, she's the one causing the pain."
Meanwhile, the "Neither" camp developed an air of insufferable intellectual superiority. They would often stand at the edge of heated debates, sipping their drinks with a knowing smirk, occasionally interjecting with comments such as:
"It doesn't matter if one princess is offered to that monster, or both of them. The only real wager is whether he'll kill them before or after he's done laughing in their faces."
"Imagine thinking a man who has the competency to live in a Death Zone alone needs a wife chosen by you losers"
"It's adorable how you all think this is a two-horse race. As if Queen Song doesn't have other more agreeable, prettier daughters waiting in line."
"That man clawed his way to the top just to find some peace, and now every Legacy Clan in both realms is trying to leash him with a pretty face. He doesn't want a queen, he wants everyone to fucking leave him alone."
At the same time, the small but vocal "Team Both" faction reveled in the chaos they sowed.
They would cheer for both sides in a brawl and often placed their own minuscule side-bets on which princess would be the first to complain of exhaustion after consummating the alliance.
Their favourite pastime was starting raucous tavern arguments, weaponising the sisters' well-known rivalry for maximum effect.
They would loudly ask Princess Nephis's supporters if their princess, having already taken her sister's place in the king's favour, was "possibly charitable enough to share a bed with Princess Morgan".
Then, they would turn to Princess Morgan's camp with mock pity, suggesting that their princess, being "so used to second place these days", might actually find the arrangement comfortable.
Their taunts grew cruder as the nights wore on and the beer flowed freely.
"You're all idiots!" A "Team Both" supporter would shout, laughing into his mug.
"It isn't about love. Those two princesses hate each other's guts. And that's the best part!"
He'd lean in, lowering his voice.
"Just think about it. Every night in bed would be a fucking war!
A contest to see which princess could ride him harder, suck him deeper!
All just to shove it in the other one's face.
And you know what? If that Lord of Shadows has half a brain, he'll see it too. He'll just order them to work out all that vicious, twisted spite on each other while watching.
Can you imagine that kind of hate-fucking?
That's not just a political marriage.
That's the best damn spectator sport in both worlds!"
A moment of silence would usually follow as the image settled in, before they would sigh together with genuine envy.
"That Lord of Shadows ... lucky bastard."
Far to the west, the royal court of Ki Song projected a sterile air of dignified disapproval.
Official statements were issued, decrying the wager as "a vulgar spectacle disrespectful to both Great Clans".
Behind this facade of propriety, they positioned themselves as the mature party, while Bastion appeared content to let its subjects indulge in base gossip.
This condemnation was, naturally, followed by a formal ban on the practice within their domain — a ban enforced with calculated leniency.
Their leadership recognised that the wager served two unspoken purposes — the quiet churn of coin stimulated the economy, and it provided an invaluable social pressure valve, allowing the populace to vent their passions on a matter that left the true structures of power untouched.
But privately, they were the most active participants.
To them, the wager was not a game of chance but a new front in the cold war.
Song's spies would do more than merely bet — they would actively attempt to manipulate the odds.
The betting pool itself was a tool, and its anonymity a lock they would dedicate immense resources to picking.
Every bet was a data point.
Which lesser clans were betting heavily on whom, revealing hidden allegiances?
Was there a sudden influx of capital on 'Neither', signalling that a third power was making a play?
Yet Bastion's counter-intelligence was not idle.
Their own operatives, as Cassie knew from her colleagues' chatter, moved to muddy the waters by amplifying existing discord and planting false leads.
The goal was to bury Song's analysts in fabricated intelligence, frustrating them, making them chase ghosts, and rendering it all but impossible to separate truth from the overwhelming chaos.
A quiet watch was placed on anyone showing an unusually strong interest in the ledger's secrets, turning Song's own methods of observation back against them.
Amidst all the madness, only four people remained oblivious — Anvil, the two princesses, and the Lord of Shadows himself.
The princesses had departed long before the commotion started.
And after giving his orders, Anvil had secluded himself in his forge to focus on sword making, informing his inner circle that he would not hold court until a masterpiece was complete.
He had ordered the Elders to make decisions in his stead and to send for him only when there is pertinent news from Godgrave, or when Ki Song is besieging Bastion — an arrangement his inner circle happily obliged.
Through it all, Cassie remained undecided, caught in a three-way war within her own mind.
Her middle-class upbringing had instilled in her a deep-seated belief that the practice of arranged marriages was a farce.
Because of this, she hoped for Nephis's freedom above all.
But she knew this was her own bias, a romantic ideal Nephis might not share.
For her friend, it might be that marriage was never about love — it was about power, and this was a contest Nephis might fully intend to win.
This urged her to bet on "Neither".
Yet, the cold, calculating logic of the cynics was seductive — betting on Princess Morgan offered a highly probable way to recoup a loss if the worst were to happen.
But a third, more potent fear held her back. What if Nephis found out?
What would she think, knowing her closest friend had so little faith in her allure, in her ability to win any contest she put her mind to?
How could she, of all people, doubt her? She, who had a front-row seat to the way every bachelor in the Sword Domain vied for Nephis's attention while Cassie simply stood in her shadow?
For Nephis to learn that Cassie had bet against her… the thought was unbearable. The potential winnings meant nothing compared to the sting of that imagined betrayal.
And so, Cassie watched the chaos unfold, the massive, anonymous prize growing daily, her own mind a battlefield of conflicting loyalties.
When she finally reached the end of the street, her senses mapped the form of a cottage — it was a simple, sturdy shape.
Near the ground, she discerned the presence of smaller, complex shapes — ceramic pots, filled with the soft, rustling forms of what her intelligence report told her were herbs and flowers.
A flat plane hanging from two points — the sign — fluttered faintly, a subtle ripple in her perception.
She could not perceive the inscription, but she knew it by heart based on her reports — "Sunny's Brilliant Emporium: Café & Memory Boutique".
As her senses mapped the entrance, she discerned the solid form of a door and, mounted upon it, a small, dense metallic shape — a bell, waiting to announce her arrival.
"Sunny ... Sunless ... Sunny ... why does that name sound so familiar." She muttered to herself, the name striking a faint, dissonant chord of familiarity.
This was it. She could not see the brown of the bricks or the colour of the tiles, but she could feel the solid, dependable presence of the place.
The intelligence report, typed and placed last on the list of Memory vendors, suggested that the Fire Keepers likely regarded Master Sunless's boutique as the least promising. However, upon examining the remainder of the list, Cassie determined that the other vendors either maintained strong affiliations with the main clan or with Nephis's rival factions — one of which she suspected to be a front for Song's spies — while the rest were overly mass-produced and of insufficient quality to satisfy their requirements.
It felt quiet. Secluded. And most importantly, unassuming and hopeful.
Then, her eyes widened.
'Wait ... this is an Echo ... An Ascended Devil!'
Her own Dormant Ability, her insight into living things — confirmed the impossible truth.
A shiver traced its way down her spine. The intelligence report had missed this. Completely. How could they not know?
Then again, without her senses, it was just a building. A clever, terrifying deception.
'A complete intelligence failure. They couldn't have known. The report painted him as a minor artisan ... they were dangerously wrong.'
Her mind raced, pulling fragments from the compiled file on every independent Memory shop in Bastion, hunting for anything she might have missed.
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FIRE KEEPER INTELLIGENCE DOSSIER
[BEGINNING OF FILE FRAGMENT]
Establishment Name: Sunny's Brilliant Emporium: Café & Memory Boutique (Formal) / Eye Candy Cafe (Informal)
Owner's Name: Sunless (Formal) / Sunny (Informal)
Owner's Rank: Master / Ascended
Age: Unknown. Est. Mid-Twenties
Sex: Male
Aspect Type: Utility Type. Memory forging, suspected affinities related to shadows given how shadows in his vicinity exhibit anomalous behaviour, and/or ability to influence one's mood — an Empath.
Known Business Associate: Saint Athena, Awakened Aiko, Awakened Telle of the White Feather
[ASSESSMENT OF FACTIONAL ALIGNMENT]
Very positive.
The subject's known network shows a strong positive correlation with our interests. No discernible ties to hostile or rival factions have been identified at this time.
He is currently assessed as a politically neutral but "friendly" asset.
[Subject's Relationship with Saint Raised by Wolves, Athena]
The subject maintains a strong connection to our friend. Effie officially supplies his establishment with produce from her Beast Farm.
The more significant data point, however, is her behaviour. She is a frequent patron and displays a level of warmth and unguarded friendship with the subject to a degree that is highly unusual.
Our observers note this rapport is comparable to the bond she shares exclusively with her core cohort from her Third Nightmare — Nephis, Kai, Jet, and you yourself, Cassie.
To be clear, this level of immediate trust is anomalous. Several Fire Keeper personnel who have maintained a close relationship with Effie since their Forgotten Shore days have noted that they are not afforded the same degree of casual intimacy, suggesting the subject possesses a remarkable, perhaps even unnatural, ability to disarm and inspire trust in powerful individuals. He has also established a positive connection with Ling, who is reportedly very fond of his ice cream, representing a further vector for positive sentiment within the family unit.
What is notable is his dynamic with Effie's husband. He maintains a genuinely amicable relationship with Master Sunless, and even tolerates his wife's open and often brazen flirting which, to be clear, HAPPENS RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER OWN HUSBAND!
FREQUENTLY!
THAT GIRL HAS NO SHAME!
The official line is that they bonded over their shared service in the Antarctica campaign as part of the First Evacuation Army. However, that is where the trail goes cold. Violently so.
Trying to pull the subject's military file is like punching a wall. Everything is gone. Not just redacted — erased. It is a professional job, meticulous and absolute, and we can't find a single person who remembers him.
There are two possibilities.
The first being, although the possibility is very small, an event of such significance occurred around Master Sunless — that a mass memory-wipe was performed on his surviving cohort, leaving only the highest echelons of military command aware of his true role in the Antarctica campaign. You may wish to contact Jet for further leads given your shared history.
The second being, the subject was an operative within a clandestine unit, possibly involved in the redaction process himself to maintain his cover.
This is likely the case, as every attempt by Effie's husband to get him to open up was humorously deflected by nonsensical tall tales of his achievements, all of which we have compiled in a separate, and highly entertaining, sub-dossier.
[Refer to Sub-Dossier Addendum 7G-I: "Master Sunless's Fabricated Service History"]
It is reportedly the subject's only frustrating characteristic.
[Subject's Relationship with Awakened Aiko]
Aiko's case is notable.
After her ex-business partner was declared MIA following the Antarctica campaign, she built a commercial empire based on tailored advice he gave before departing.
We have long suspected this was a case of insider trading, given her unknown ex-business partner was part of the First Evacuation Army and seemed to possess high-level, classified military information.
The precision of her subsequent financial manoeuvres prior to the start of the campaign only deepened these suspicions. A former acquaintance put it more bluntly: "I know that shady bitch well. She's not a genius; she just cheated!"
Our own attempts to build a profile on this mysterious ex-business partner were met with unusual dead ends and redacted records, suggesting a high level of operational security or a powerful benefactor.
When pressed, Aiko would deflect all inquiries with a frustratingly vague claim that her memory of him was "hazy".
Her fortune was solidified last year after the Waking World's court declared her ex-business partner as legally deceased, following the expiration of the statutory waiting period for MIA personnel.
This action granted her full legal control of their joint business accounts and a truly staggering pool of assets.
This sudden, complete capitalisation was the launchpad for her current business empire, which now includes dominant ventures in commodity trading, inter-realm spatial transport, and the procurement of rare goods.
This brings us to the core contradiction. By all accounts, and from our personal dealings with her, Aiko is a person of legendary, almost monstrous avarice.
Some of us have known her all the way back on the Forgotten Shore and that woman would invoice her own mother for emotional support if she thought she could get away with it. Her entire operational model is built on ruthless optimisation and maximising profit margins after all.
And yet, her dealings with the Master Sunless defy all logic. She provides his small establishment with terms that border on financial self-sabotage.
This includes selling him rare components and restricted ingredients at acquisition cost and bumping an entire Clan's shipments to grant his café "hot-shot" priority on her inter-realm transport vessels.
Furthermore, she leverages her entire network to fulfill his custom procurement requests for his business — a level of service not extended to even her most valuable, high-volume clients.
On some occasions, she has even been observed working as an assistant in his establishment — an act that left our agents incredulous. Yikes!
This behavior is such a departure from her established psychological profile that we initially suspected blackmail or romantic obsession.
Fueled by MULTIPLE, CONCERNED, BORDERLINE-PLEADING REQUESTS FROM KAI, we facilitated a confrontation.
We convinced an old associate of Aiko — from her gambling den days on the Forgotten Shore — to press her on the matter. But she was adamant — she was not being blackmailed, nor did she hold any romantic interest in Master Sunless.
She cited only an inexplicable "guilt and compulsion" to ensure his success, an urge she finds perplexing but cannot ignore.
This points to a potential mental influence of unknown nature and origin. Thus, it is hypothesised that the subject may possess a subtle Aspect capable of tailoring its effect to the target's psychology.
Regardless, after our interviews, our agents corroborated their opinions and concluded that there is certainly no romantic interest in Master Sunless — she only loves money.
KAI'S THREAT LEVEL HAS SUBSEQUENTLY BEEN DOWNGRADED FROM "IMMINENT ANXIETY-INDUCED ANEURYSM" TO "MILDLY OBSESSIVE GRATITUDE".
[Relationship with Awakened Telle of White Feather]
Young Telle is a frequent, near-daily patron. Her official business with the establishment — a commission for an exquisitely enchanted greaves she ordered for herself — was concluded months ago. The greaves were delivered, the payment was rendered, and by all accounts, the transaction was a resounding success.
However, as the primary agent writing this file, and a friend of Tyris. I can assess with high confidence that the commission itself was merely a pretext.
Since its conclusion, her visits have not ceased.
They have, in fact, increased in both frequency and duration, shifting from a clear objective to a pattern consistent with A PROFOUND TEENAGE CRUSH, fueled by the owner's reputation as an "eye candy".
Field observations from multiple operatives have logged the following behavioural pattern.
The Birthday Gambit:
Recently, Telle requested a new commission from Master Sunless as a birthday present for her father, Roan.
However, Roan's birthday is many months away, and the turnover time for a commission of this type would typically take only a few weeks.
[SUPERVISOR'S NOTE: I CAN PERSONALLY CONFIRM ROAN'S BIRTHDAY IS NOWHERE NEAR]
You have to admire the forward planning. Truly.
Strategic Loitering:
Telle will typically secure a table that offers a clear line of sight to the counter where Master Sunless works, while simultaneously being partially obscured from his view.
She has been observed nursing a single cup of coffee for periods exceeding ninety minutes. One operative timed her taking approximately twenty minutes between individual sips.
When Master Sunless approaches her section of the cafe, the frequency of sips increases by an estimated 250% — presumably to appear natural.
Gosh, so cute!
Forced Intellectual Engagement:
Her attempts at conversation are a primary indicator.
Despite having no previously documented interest in Memory forging, she has been observed asking Master Sunless technically nonsensical questions engineered solely to prolong interaction.
As her mother's tea partner, I once steered the conversation toward her daughter's hobbies and found out that Telle is a typical Valor Legacy girl — pretty dresses and swords interest her far more than Memory forging and military engineering.
Ah, to be young and awkward again.
Proximal Awkwardness:
Her non-verbal cues are telling.
When the subject is occupied across the room, Telle is often observed staring in his direction with an unguarded, contemplative expression.
When he moves towards her table, she will invariably become intensely engrossed in a mundane object — studying the wood grain of her table, meticulously organising her sugar packets, or inspecting her own fingernails — until he is directly addressing her.
That girl has ... no game.
"Forgotten" Items:
On six separate occasions in the last two weeks, she has departed only to return minutes later, claiming to have "forgotten" a mundane item.
Once a glove, twice a single coin, thrice a handkerchief.
Each instance provided a secondary opportunity for a brief, flustered interaction.
I am looking forward to seeing what she'll "forget" next.
But girl, too obvious! You are lucky that Master Sunless is as dense as an anime protagonist.
Fencing Lessons:
A week ago, during tea with Tyris, she mentioned that her daughter needed extra pocket money to hire a "private fencing tutor" in preparation for her Second Nightmare, an excuse which pleased her mother.
I have not yet seen fit to inform Tyris that these "private fencing sessions" primarily take place over coffee and waffles at Master Sunless's café.
This is perfect blackmail material on young Telle, and none of you jokers reading this report better use it.
It's mine. I worked hard for it.
Verdict:
In conclusion, her pattern of behaviour is transparent and aligns perfectly with the informal "Eye Candy Cafe" moniker. While it presents zero security threat, it is a significant data point illustrating the subject's potent, and seemingly effortless, personal charisma.
[NOTE]
The colloquialism "Eye Candy Cafe" was apparently started by our shameless friend Effie, despite her married status, and has been widely adopted by patrons in Bastion — especially female patrons, and sometimes male.
Subsequent field research, conducted to verify the moniker's accuracy, confirms the title is justified. Consensus among our female field agents was immediate and unanimous. Male operatives have also corroborated this assessment, albeit with notably less enthusiasm, except for [REDACTED BY FIELD AGENT'S SUPERVISOR].
[CONCLUSION]
However, as a dual-purpose establishment, its Memory forging operation appears to be a secondary venture.
Unfortunately, from what we can gather, the Memories Master Sunless produces, while noted for being perfectly suited to their wielder, are not considered potent enough for our strategic needs.
HOWEVER
Girl, I am saying this as your friend, and as the primary agent who just spent weeks working with these jokers to compile a dossier that basically doubles as a dating profile for your potential future husband.
Look, Cassie. You're brilliant at your job, but let's be honest, your love life is a total disaster. If you're not careful, you're going to end up in a quiet cottage surrounded by cats.
And we have poured significant resources into this and concluded that the man is, against all odds and observable evidence — a bachelor!
He is charming, stable, runs a legitimate business, and is professionally verified to be an "eye candy".
The man is single.
The man is around your age.
The background check is done.
He is the bag!
[Reading Recommendation — Sub-Dossier Addendum 7G-II: "Master Sunless's Potential Likes and Dislikes"]
Don't fumble it.
[ADDENDUM]
Additional log entry from field agent to file manager.
Also, I feel compelled to log this, but Cassie, please don't misuse this information.
Telle is a sweet girl, and I am very close to Tyris.
If I ever find out that you leaked this information — especially to Effie — and that she used it to tease that poor girl, I promise to the dead gods that even Nephis won't be able to heal what I will do to your sorry, blind ... ... [ THE FOLLOWING TEN PAGES, DETAILING GRAPHIC AND UNSETTLINGLY CREATIVE THREATS, HAVE BEEN REDACTED BY FIELD AGENT'S SUPERVISOR. ]
[SUPERVISOR'S COMMENT]
Agent, your point is made. Loudly.
I am Roan's drinking buddy too.
Cassie, I know you outrank me. But I don't care, as I'm "the guy who has to clean up the mess".
Roan is a friend. Telle is a good kid.
I am not going to be the one fielding frantic calls from him because you decided to arm Effie with high-grade teasing material.
And frankly, having to placate a man that handsome is just emotionally taxing.
As for my earlier redaction ... let's just say a supervisor is entitled to a certain amount of executive discretion.
Now, Cassie. Consider those ten pages of ... *suggestions* ... officially requisitioned. They are now my property.
You won't make me read them for inspiration, will you?
Good.
[END OF FILE FRAGMENT]
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Cassie recalled the intelligence report with a quiet smile and sighed.
But standing before this unassuming café, feeling the vibrant, living presence of an Ascended Devil masquerading as a building, she knew the report was worse than wrong — it was dangerously wrong.
The owner was obviously not a simple Memory forger and café owner. She was in luck, hopefully ... but it was the kind of luck that could just as easily get one killed.
Staring at the Echo, Cassie decided she would need to scout the location over several days before risking contact — and perhaps, staking Nephis's future by betting on Master Sunless.
Unfortunately for her, a deep, masculine voice behind her took her by surprise and made her yelp.
"Lady Cassia. You've been studying my humble abode for some time now. The café isn't quite open for the day, but for you, I would be delighted to make an exception."