[Be/Aq]Week 62: Equal Opportunity

[Inks]

Word Count -[2,614]
Perseus Artifex
Leidan Halbert

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Equal Opportunity
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Scarcely a week had passed since the incidents of the Nocte Nils festivities, many a folk still scared into their own homes by the looming threat of Astra Non Obligant. The Conexus presence had been amplified almost a dozen fold. A guard on every corner, it almost felt like.

Of course, Leidan had seen too many sleepless nights by now to work himself up about someone else taking some of the work. The sergeant of Domestic Affairs was a mashup of formal and unkempt. His hair was jet-black and mussed about, slight chops hanging in front of his ears and a perpetual stubble seeming to exist about his round face.

His state of dress, however, was borderline outrageous for a rough-and-tumble officer. With a white dress shirt, black tie and vest, and a pair of dark dress pants, the sergeant seemed amiss in the evening hours of the Ruby Jewel. The great tradesman's shopping center, all manner of materials and commissions went to and from the city through here. The great nexus by which the goods from Elata Spiritus were brought in.

Leidan's occupation had changed meanings rapidly in the onset of the Astra Non Obligant's activities. Suddenly, domestic affairs meant much more than a drunk beating his wife, or shrews making citizen's arrests with unlawful force. Suddenly, the young laicar had been thrust into the position of Terminus' first line of defense against intrusions from within.

Suddenly, he was preventing problems instead of mopping up the mess.

Stepping lightly over a laid-out carpet into the seamstress' stall, he browsed the goods for a moment before immediately leaving. His dark eyes continued to scan the surrounding area, but it wasn't long before they locked on a peculiar individual.

Perseus watched.

As a child, Perseus Artifex used to watch other children. Always from a distance. Even then, he’d shied from social interaction...but he would watch them, eyes wide and dark, for hours at a time. Valeria used to call it ‘creepy’. Had he the ability or will to explain it, Perseus would’ve said he was trying to understand.

It didn’t take him long to decide that people were, at the same time, too simple and too complicated to ever really comprehend. And besides, soon after that, he found his father’s workshop, and people suddenly seemed much less important, in the grand scheme of things.

Perseus Artifex still watched. He wasn’t a child anymore, but some things never really changed. Perseus’s need to understand was one of those things. People might have been too simple, but processes – crafts – the way hands curled around tools, shaped metal, crushed herbs, stitched cloth – he could learn.

Perseus had too many interests, and books, scrolls, writings on craftsmanship were only good for so much. Fundamentals. Theories. Practical, working knowledge came from an experienced hand.

Which was why Perseus Artifex was standing in the window of Servius Nix’s leather tanning shop, his face all but pressed against the glass. A sooty-grey (and grey with soot) cap was jammed over his thick, curly black hair, a pair of heavy-duty goggles seated on the hat’s brim. Beneath the brim, the young man’s eyes – one black, one robotic and blue- were fixed on the craftsman, working inside his building. A bandana, also stained with soot and oil, was tied around Pers’ neck over a brown, fleece-lined jacket with noticeably lighter stitching along some of the seams and an off-white button-up covered in blotchy smudges and stains.

Two hand-made pouches full of all-purpose engineering tools for maintenance and upkeep hung from his belt. He wore a pair of loosely-laced work gloves, consisting of a black inner layer of cotton that covered his fingers and a thicker, fingerless outer layer of flexible leather. His dark pants were rolled up clear of short, grime-covered work boots.

The young man’s expression was wide-eyed and unreadable, the dark circles under his eyes stark against his otherwise pale, faintly-freckled skin. A small, orb-shaped drone – half lightweight metal casing over complex internal circuitry, half external sensors shielded in a hemisphere of thin, transparent polymer material – drifted in the air just above him. Three cone-shaped ‘fingers’ of jointed metal, each ending in a black rubber-encased tip, hovered just beneath its main body. The drone’s sensors, arranged in the same pattern as those in Perseus’s eye, cast a pale blue light across its shielding.

Perseus and his drone made a bizarre, out-of-place pair at the best of times. Squinting into Nix’s shop in the middle of a crowded street, did not help with appearances.

A thoughtful hum emanated from the investigator as he took in the still youth. The young laicar had been standing outside the same building for three days in a row, for hours at a time, at the same time each day. He'd received reports about it and took a careful approximation of the man. Even from this distance, he could make out the light bruising and callouses that dotted the observer's hands.

Fellow craftsmen often copied and emulated one another... was it simply a case of one dropping the pretense of ego? Another thoughtful hum came from the man, as he more plainly approached the unkempt young man. The bobbing drone that occupied the space around him didn't seem to phase the investigator.

Finally, Leidan stood silently next to the man, taking in the same work that his 'suspect' was fixated upon. Leatherworking was a long, dedicated process. The hide had to be skinned correctly, and then cured for the right amount of time. If the resulting leather was pliable enough, it could be layered and hardened. A craftsman learnt quickly from their mistakes, for fear of ruining long-prepared material.

By the time Leidan spoke, he'd been standing there for at least five minutes in total silence. "Is it the pliability, or the sturdiness which catches your eye first?"

“It depends,” said Perseus, vaguely. “On what I’m looking at. Or for.”

The young man’s eyes blinked owlishly, flicked over to Leidan’s reflected face beside his own, then returned to the window. The drone, too, turned towards the new arrival; the lens on its face constricted with a soft whir as it drew the man into focus. When Perseus’s gaze left, however, the drone’s remained.

“Flexibility,” Perseus added after a measure of time, voice a soft murmur. “At the moment, flexibility.” He could just purchase the leather he wanted from Nix...and might, in the future. Working all of his own leather wasn’t practical...but he had to know, first.

A deep, earnest hunger lurked in the craftsman’s dark left eye as he watched Nix work within his shop.

A low hum emanated from Leidan as he stood astride the observer. The droid's endless stare did little to perturb him, it seemed, although he occasionally shot it a sidelong glance. Another lapse of silence stretched between the two, broken only by the soft whirring and clicks of the droid.

Then, Leidan broke it once more, "Perhaps it's in the cut of the leather before he cures it? It seems thinner than other artisans I've seen."

This earned Leidan another glance, long enough for Perseus to blink before turning his attention back to the shop window.

“Thinner,” he repeated. As if trying the word out, testing the idea, weighing the possibility. “Hm.”

He said nothing else for a full minute. His breath fogged the window glass, but he didn’t seem to notice; his gaze was unfocused, thoughts turned inwards.

Finally, he added, “Maybe. May...be.” The young man tilted his head, then stepped back from the leatherworker’s window. “I’ll try it,” he concluded.

A pause, then, “Thank you.”

A short nod was Leidan's answer, before he crossed his arms across his chest. His hands were calloused, a fact that didn't escape Perseus' eyes. Taking another long stare at the interior of Nix's store, Leidan nodded to himself. Then, turning fully to the young man, he shoved both hands into two of the lower pockets in his large coat.

"It's rare to see a craftsman so dedicated to learning. Ego often intrudes, demands that results be found from oneself. It's refreshing to see someone unburdened by the idea that the only place worth learning from is themselves." The laicar explained, eyes once more roaming away from Perseus to take a long look at the drone next to Perseus.

"Are you practicing, or apprenticing?" He queried casually, not looking back at his unkempt fellow.

“I’m.” Perseus’s stare fixed on Leidan, wide and unblinking – much like his drone’s. “Both. Both, I would say.” The tiniest of creases appeared between his thin, dark eyebrows. “Or,” he amended, gaze drifting back to the shop window, “perhaps not apprenticing. Learning. I should say learning. As any dedicated craftsman is always doing. ...Always...doing,” he repeated, voice soft.

Pers glanced over, then stashed his own gloved hands in his jacket pockets, imitating Leidan, before turning to face him. His eyes took a bit longer to find their way back to the man. “Why – Hm.” The young man went quiet a moment, rethinking his words, then asked, “Do you have a...reason...? For talking with me?”

"A good question, really," Leidan answered lightly. "I suppose the foremost reason were the complaints we received about a 'spy' in the Ruby Jewel. I must say, if you are one, you're quite controlled."

A moment passed, before the detective continued, "The same thing that had you stand out here for hours on end, watching Nix work. Curiosity, the need to understand, the want to better oneself.

"My name is Leidan, if it matters any." He scratched at the stubble that spotted his chin and cheeks, the rough substance just thick enough to make his skin feel like sandpaper. Another urge pulled at his intuition, one that demanded further inquiry.

Leidan rarely acted on much else than his gut.

"How long have you been a craftsman?"

Perseus watched Leidan for a beat. Then two. Three, then four. Finally, he glanced up at the drone hovering at his shoulder – the first time he’d acknowledged its existence. “I’m not sure,” he said to the drone. “Some time? ...I’ve heard said I am...” his gaze lost focus for a moment, distracted by errant thoughts, “...inherently a craftsman. That it is, inherent. In me. In the blood.”

Pers’ lips pressed, briefly, into a thin line. He gave a small shake of his head, then met Leidan’s eyes again. “I have no memories of a time before I practiced crafts,” he said. Like an afterthought, he added, “Perseus. That is my...my name.”

Leidan seemed to nod to himself, repeating the name aloud, "Perseus... hmm..."

The investigator seemed to lapse into thought for a moment, his eyes appraising his fellow laicar before finally nodding to himself. Offering a sly half-grin to Perseus, he gestured vaguely behind him, "Well then, it just so happens that I could use someone skilled in machinery and finer creations. You see, there's a bit of a puzzle the Conexus has yet to solve in regards to the affairs of our little incident some months ago.

"I don't suppose you might be interested in seeing what you can learn - and tell us - about it?" Leidan offered coyly.

Perseus stared back at him, expression unchanged. He watched Leidan watch him. Blinked.

“Don’t you?” he asked. Like his expression, his tone remained blank. “Suppose? You’ve done so,” Pers’ gaze drifted again, “several times. Thus far.”

After a moment, he said, “Yes. I might be.”

"Excellent," Leidan replied victoriously, a small grin stretching across his face. Like magic, a card had found its way into the investigator's hand, as though he had always known this would be the outcome.

On it, written in plain embossed letters, was:

LEIDAN HALBERT
DOMESTIC AFFAIRS

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Scribbled underneath was an address and a room number. Did Leidan carry all of his business cards like this..? Did all Conexus members carry business cards. With more of that supernatural patience, the young laicar continued to prattle on as he held the card out expectantly.

"I'm certain you'll find the work accommodating to someone of your preferences. Nothing shall require your presence at our offices, and nothing shall require you to be obligated to produce any results. It's really more an an opportunity, when you get down to it. It's still such an intriguing concept, though..."

Leidan had begun to let his eyes and mind wander at this point, as he finished his thoughts while Perseus contemplated the card, "... a controlled explosive disguised as a pen? I'm almost curious as to how it works myself."

Perseus seemed to startle, and his eyes, which had been fixed upon the business card still sitting, waiting, Leidan’s hand, jerked back up to the man’s face. He watched the man for a moment.

“It was a...curious...curious design,” he said in cautious agreement.

Pers took his hands from his pockets. Reached up, hesitated, and finally picked the card from Leidan’s hand in a single, uncomfortable movement – carefully avoiding Leidan’s fingers.

Rather abruptly, he felt overwhelmed. His gaze skittered to the side and up; fixed on the cloudless blue sky overhead.

“Excuse me,” he said, and turned on heel to go.

A light smile played on Leidan's face as Perseus retreated into the streets of the Ruby Jewel. The young man was interesting, and as far as Leidan was concerned that was enough to keep him around. The drone stayed a while longer, its unblinking gaze on the investigator, before it too left.

Turning back to the stalls and merchants, Leidan turned the encounter back in his head. Perseus... a name worth looking into.

With a bit more energy in his steps, the Lieutenant disappeared into the familiar crowds of Terminus, leaving only a few witnesses to the odd encounter.