#phi urusov

“Brother,” Tau says, turning, his tone too smooth and far too familiar. Tau would never plead, but his voice is like honey when he’s trying to be convincing. And he is startling convincing to everyone apart from Rho. “Think of all the money we could bring in if we had a venue of some kind- an extension on the bar, or another building, if it supplied alcohol and dancing then we’d rake in the cash.”

“Oh, yes, obliterate our security because you want money to buy your drugs,” Phi snaps, “This is such a terrible proposal! I expect better from you.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” Tau snorts, “You’re the one with so little faith in our security that you think a- what did you say? Group of-”, he raises his hands to air quote, “horny, drunk, drugged up strangers’ could get into our operations.”

“We don’t have any security!” Phi barks, “We run on a fucking trust system-”

“Phi,” Koschei says, from where he has sat on one of the twin sofas behind the quarrelling siblings, “What would you suggest, hm?”

Koschei puts the folder he’s perusing down on his knees, from where Eden takes it, bumping Koschei with his shoulder as he does.

“That we don’t do this,” Phi says, her voice cool, “It’s not worth it. Hire a venue outside of our territory if you’re so set on this idea-”

“And pay them dividends of our rightful profit,” Tau says, equally cool, “I think the fuck not.”

“It’s not up to you,” Phi says, eyes narrowing.

“It’s not up to you either,” Tau replies, jerking his chin up.

Both of them turn to look at Rho. Rho stares back, unfazed, and instead looks past them at Koschei.

(Thoughts?)

Tau throws his hands in the air.

“Yeah, pass us up to ask dad,” he grunts, lips curling into a momentary scowl, “Very kingly of you.”

Rho twitches, but doesn’t take the bait. Tau grunts, aware of this, and takes a step back to allow Rho closer to Koschei.

“Mm,” Koschei murmurs, “It would be an investment to build any kind of entertainment venue, but Tau has a point. We don’t have that many dancers, but getting more isn’t a question of difficulty but choice. I don’t know of any too nearby, and our trade routes and traffic would pick up an audience outside of the mercenaries.”

He rests his elbow on the armrest.

“The security risk is indeterminate,” he says, cautiously. His caution shows.

“Indeterminate my ass,” Phi murmurs, but doesn’t stir otherwise.

“Be that as it may,” Koschei continues, “We would need extra guards.”

“And doors,” Phi adds, looking at Rho, “Alright, fine, do whatever you want, but you can’t tell me there’s not the risk of someone using this as cover to steal information from us, lay traps, poison, assassinate-”

“And here I thought I was the pessimist,” Tau says, raising an eyebrow. “That’s your worry?”

Phi looks at him like he’s grown a second head.

“Of course,” she says, emphatically.

“I thought you just didn’t like it and were making up excuses to veto my fun,” Tau says, deadpan, “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t.”

“Tau, trust me, I don’t care enough about you to go out of my way,” Phi shoots back, “Yes, I’m worried because of how easy it would be for someone dangerous to get in, if the amount of non-inhabitants passing through increases.”

“Hm,” Tau muses, “I see that. There’s no way to check them either, no official paperwork for wanderers.”

“I can’t believe you’re so self absorbed that you thought this was about you,” Phi says with incredulity, clucking her tongue before she elbows Tau in the ribs. He rocks on his feet and locks eyes with her, fire inside them. The two stare at each other.

“Bouncers?” Eden suggests, lifting his head from his intense scrutiny of their rather old and million-times-edited plans. “Take some of the mercs out of work for when we’re open to the public?”

“That would be the least disruptive option, but the most finicky,” Koschei replies smoothly, “With no-one made the true guard, there would be a large discrepancy on who does the job best.”

Eden taps his bottom lip.

“Then make whoever’s best the guard?” he offers, tilting his head to one side.

Rho looks up at the ceiling.

(That would be Gabriel.)

“Gabe doesn’t count,” Eden counters, “Obviously.”

Rho rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

(Of course.)

“If it’s safe, then you’re down, right sis?” Tau ventures, butting his forehead against Phi’s. His squishes slightly on contact with her rock-solid skin, and blood drips down her nose. He is unfazed.

“I guess,” she sighs, pushing him away.

(We can talk more about it.)

Phi turns back to look at Rho.

“Alright,” she says, rubbing at her forehead, “Fine, fine. Have it your way.”

Tau’s smile is like a shark.

“I’ll see if I can find us some dancers!” Eden exclaims, jumping up. “Oh, this is going to be so fun, I’m excited!”

Phi’s face is set to neutrality, as cold as the magic snapping around her like a cloak, and every swing she makes is utterly intent on death. The fire burns away the ice quicker than it grows, but with the mage now on the defensive, she has no time to focus and deliver a strong enough blow to stop the princess. Magnus wrestles free of the arms holding him, and seeing an opportunity, races forward and wraps both of his arms around the mage, yanking her down. The fire dancing around her only catches at his calves and his tail. Strong arms wrap hard around her chest, her jewellery digs into his skin, and out of sheer surprise, there is no retaliation. In return, Phi’s scythe ends up flush with the mage’s neck. Checkmate. Or stalemate. Magnus isn’t sure, he doesn’t play chess.

“Oh,” the mage says, quietly. “You’re crushing my favourite necklace.” “I think you have bigger problems right now,” Magnus says, and with his heart rate slowing just a little, he is aware of how tightly he’s pressed against this woman, and is also aware his words were said right next to her ear. He wonders if he’s intimidating her or annoying her. “Shade-touched,” comes a voice from behind him- the one who pulled him out of the way, of course, Marjani, like she’d let him throw his life away because he forgot to grab a shield. “She’s a bane on this world.” “You’re a bane on this world,” comes the muttered response. It’s so petulant that Magnus has to suppress a laugh. “No,” Phi says, cape fluttering behind her in the breeze. It’s looking a little singed. “That’s not Shade-touched. I’ve seen how the Shade can be used to override magical abilities. That’s not what you were doing, is it?” “No,” the mage says, slowly. “It is not. I am Shade-Touched, as you ignorants call it, but it does not control me. I use the Shade’s power to boost my own. The fire is fire, like any other. It is simply more.” “Hurts like a bitch,” Magnus adds. He feels Marjani’s eyes on his back, and Phi’s flick to his for a moment, a small sympathetic smile on her face. “Just saying.” “It is meant to,” the mage says, “You held up longer than most. And not once did you scream.” He can see, and feels her attempt to twist around to look him in the eye, but Phi has not moved her scythe and the movement is currently impossible.

“Who are you?” she asks him. “Me? I’m the War Chief,” he says, proudly. The silence stretches, and he can just feel her interest waning. “My name is Magnus,” he says, awkwardly. “What’s your name?” She chuffs, a surprisingly sad noise all things considered; she shuts her eyes, though Magnus cannot see that from this angle. “What does that matter if I am to be killed by you? Let me be another nameless victim,” she says, softer than before. He knows it a fool notion but the acceptance stirs something inside him; how ready he was to give in too, once, with nothing to stand for. Nothing to live for, except himself. He says nothing for a moment, looking at Phi, silently imploring her. She looks away, across the battlefield as the last stragglers are cut down. He knows why, vaguely. Phi said that they let a Shade-Touched dragon in once, and it had led to a great many deaths, and had triggered the events that led to their currently brewing conflict with some batshit cult to the west. But Magnus has never been a man for politics, or plans. “I won’t kill you,” he says, earnest as can be. “That’s not your decision to make, Mango,” Marjani says, equally affection as stern. “No, it is not,” Phi murmurs. She slides the scythe away- Magnus feels the mage exhale in relief, and Phi kneels down, curious. “You’re no mad beast, and you are powerful. What are your intentions?” “The same as everyone’s in this forsaken place,” the mage says, opening her warm orange eyes once again, “To survive.” Phi’s gaze narrows a little. “I take it you hold no loyalty to the men you’ve been employed by,” she says. It’s not a question. It doesn’t need to be, and certainly doesn’t need an answer.