Shells and false semblances are one of the most illegal—but also most valuable—commodities offered by the Neath. When one seeks to establish their position in life, they usually arrive at one of a few following places: What is your Tier? How wealthy are you? How connected are you? And what can you provide with the skills you do have?

For most, life is a catch-22. You won't be able to gain grand skills or level quickly because you simply aren't important. You haven't gotten the chance to evolve, so you won't evolve, and thus you languish until your skills are crippled by inaction and mundanity. Indeed, a great many bottlenecks are formed from such inaction, because you've taught your own legend to expect nothing, and so you will be nothing.

To break free sometimes, or to escape from past sins, there are those who assume false identities—a layer of fake skin for their soul and body, so to speak.

Shells are simple, comparatively. They are effectively a mold of tissue or alloy woven along the exterior of someone's body. Usually, they degrade over time, though how long they last depends on the Tier of the forger. This allows someone to shed their physical visage and adopt a new face. It won't be able to change any of your actual skills, but it can give you an aesthetic makeover, and for some, that is all that is needed. This generally requires a level of Biomancy, Kinesiology, or even Metallurgy and Smithing, depending on whom the subject being treated is.

The harder part for everyone, however, is the semblance. Your soul sends out information in the form of the mana radiating out from you. Your skills broadcast who you are to the System, and when someone with a high enough Analyze skill gazes upon you, they will read truths about your history that can't be denied. They will glean from you your Path, they will see your Skill-Tiers, and they will be able to tell just how much of a threat you are.

Masking this is difficult. Usually, people choose a more direct route in terms of stealth, avoiding notice entirely, but oftentimes, stealth is not enough. If you want to live in society and exist among people, you must accept some extent of voyeurism. As such, you need a greater forger, one that has delved into psionics and stealth in equal measure and achieved a skill fusion between the two.

Soul forgery is not making a new sword; it's simply rerouting some of your mana so it displays other things. This too degrades, and far faster than your body's shell. The more you use your skills, the more your false semblance disentangles. It's like undoing and redoing a fragile knot over and over again. But while it lasts, when someone lays their gaze upon you, they will see another rather than the truth of your soul.

But there is a limit to this as well. For if the one who gazes is a being of considerable power, and they pit their soul against yours, it might shear your false semblance apart instantly and unravel your ruse.

-What Lurks Below: An Exposé on the Hidden World of Organized Crime (Banned by Republic authorities for unlawful slander and fearmongering)

201 (I)

Neath [II]

"...And that about sums up the ugliness of our situation," Adam finished. As he recounted his experiences over the past few months, Shiv kept his eyes fixed on Irons's expression. The captain was stoic, disciplined. He wielded his body as one would a blade, betraying nothing. But even so, there were minor flinches, grimaces, brief clenches of the jaw.

The more Adam spoke, the darker Irons's features got, but through it all, he listened. Quietly, attentively, and he never raised a single objection.

Psycho-Cartography: This is what it looks like when a man of extreme discipline and loyalty undergoes a crisis of faith. Be straight with him. Honest. You can reveal ugly truths without him reacting emotionally, but avoid being cruel for the sake of it. He will likely respond without speaking. And by that, I mean violently.

Two conversations were unfolding in the forger's office. Off by the side, the Educator continued interrogating Custiel. The goblin was sitting upon his operating table now, and a series of bashes rattled the heavy wooden doors on the far side of the room. The Pathbearers tasked with guarding Custiel were barred from entry by a few border sketches. They tried reaching in with mana as well, but were quickly repelled as the fields they projected were scarred by the flaying touch of the Educator's brush.

Shiv wouldn't consider himself anything close to a master diplomat. He wouldn't even call himself particularly peace-inclined. But the Educator seemed determined to start as many problems as she could with her incessant demands and her propensity to use her bruising tone to resolve any situation with someone she deemed inferior to her.

The longer we stay by her side, the more problems that we're going to encounter, Shiv thought to himself. They were already running from the Ascendants and most of the capital, and now, in their first foray into the underworld, he suspected he might have a nasty first encounter with the so-called Dragon Brokers that ran this whole Neath thing sometime soon.

"Captain? Captain?" Adam said, sounding slightly worried. The Gate Lord was nervous, more nervous than Shiv had ever seen him outside of active combat. Adam had spoken highly of Irons, and under these circumstances, part of Adam still wanted to impress his former mentor, Shiv realized.

Psycho-Cartography: Let's section this under 'ammunition to bully Adam with.'

Let's maybe not, he thought, lying to himself. He was definitely going to use this at some point.

Despite his attempts to be more upright, Irons's response came in the form of a long, deep sigh, the sigh of an exhausted man. His breath reeked of stress, but also resolve. Shiv knew because he had made the same sigh before, when he decided to throw himself upon a Necromancy spell to deliver a greater wound to adversaries he couldn't beat otherwise. Irons was burdened, but Irons was mustering his strength to shoulder that weight.

"I had a feeling," Irons began. He looked Adam dead in the eye. "I had a feeling that your life would be like this." Adam opened and closed his mouth several times. "I, uh, am not blaming you," Irons continued. His gaze fell. He opened and closed his fist, popping his wrist in an act of reflexive stress relief. "It's not your fault. The System plays favorites, and because of who your father is, because of your talents, you were never going to live a life of peace. I just hoped you could have tread that middle ground, hit Heroic-Tier maybe a century earlier than most, and at least get to taste some stability in your life."

Adam leaned back and pressed his lips together. "Captain, was that hope and optimism I just heard? Are you developing a fever? Have you picked up a drinking habit, perchance?"

Irons snorted and shook his head. "I see your tongue still waves before your thoughts settle."

"It's a habit that's grown worse due to bad influences." Adam briefly looked at Shiv, and the Deathless simply folded his arms.

"No idea who you're talking about," Shiv said. "I'm surprised you're taking it so well, though."

"I'm not," Irons deadpanned. "I'm just choosing not to react."

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

That earned another bit of respect from Shiv.

"Part of me would like to deny it," Irons went on. "Part of me wants to accuse one of you of being a liar, of running a scheme against the Republic after being turned by hostile powers."

"But…" Shiv added, spinning a finger.

"But," Irons continued, "I know Adam. He's not the traitorous kind. And I know Roland well. He's an insufferable, rigid fool when it comes to his morals and ethics, and particularly emotional when it comes to being swayed by his own feelings. But put a bow in his hand and give him an army to command, and you'll see the finest example of a Pathbearer to ever exist on Integrated Earth."

Shiv suppressed a moment of sourness and doubled down on punching Roland in the face at some point, now that he had a Legendary skill. Maybe he wouldn't be obliterated instantly. Maybe he could get close enough. But then he saw something else. Irons's eyes were still on him, and the man had noticed.

Psycho-Cartography: He's watching you too. He trusts Adam. He doesn't know anything about you, and you cannot blame him for that.

"I didn't know Harlon had a kid," Irons grunted. His eyes narrowed, and they left Shiv, falling upon Adam once more. "You never told me about him."

At that, Adam winced. He gave Shiv an apologetic look, but the Deathless didn't care anymore. They'd been through way too much for him to give a shit about old slights, about ancient history. Adam had plenty of grievances before they ended up in the Abyss, before they were forced to become battle brothers, before Shiv returned Rose, before the Tarrasque, and before even darker truths about Shiv's lineage came to the surface. Frankly put, Adam's bygone animosity was barely more than a pinprick compared to the impalement inflicted upon Shiv by Udraal's actions.

"Let's just say it took a little bit of active combat and shared near-death experiences to get over some problems with family history," Shiv said dryly.

Irons drew in his lip in distaste. "I see. I've had my own experiences with such things. And I'm glad the two of you found a way. I wish there was another way to be, but I suspect people like us need to be blooded and broken before things can be mended."

Yet, there was still something the man left unsaid. His eyes still lingered on Shiv, and the distrust between them continued. Shiv suspected that unless they experienced some mutual, shared conflict, and the man got a measure for who he was, that tension would remain. The Deathless resolved to settle that, if they had to work together.

"Well, we explained that utter pit of shit we're in. But Captain, what are you doing? Trying to break into Flamecrown Castle? How did you find yourself on the business end of Daughter's dagger?"

"I was on the trail of Melissa," Irons said.

"Melissa? Melissa Harrington?" Adam was suddenly animated. His back straightened. He blinked twice.

"Know who he's talking about?" Shiv asked.

"She was an underclass student in the first year by the time I graduated. Brilliant girl. Path of the Investigator. Had a habit of finding things out that she really shouldn't have and asking questions that made people around her uncomfortable. Especially powerful people."

"She went missing," Irons said, and there was a shudder in his breath. The man wasn't just worried now; he was outright fearful. "She went missing looking for a younger sister, Hannah. She told me this when she showed up at my residence three weeks ago. It was completely out of the blue. She was in hysterics. She went on and on about how there was a grand conspiracy unfolding through the orphanages of the capital, how select children who experienced significant trauma but retained their innocence were being kidnapped and moved to other facilities."

Adam bit his lip at that, and Irons continued. "At first, I simply thought she had suffered a Psychomantic attack after escaping from somewhere she shouldn't have been in the first place. She was an inquisitive girl possessed of unparalleled perspicacity, but she was also obsessive. She dug for every morsel of information incessantly. I knew there would be a time when she overstepped too far. Being an amateur detective on the grounds of the academy is one thing, but it has its own dangers as well. Corruption hates being revealed. All corruption. And I guessed she had overstepped, found some deviant thing a minor noble was doing."

Irons's gaze grew even darker. "But then she brought things out. Evidence. Documentation. Sigil letters detailing the selection and specific grooming of certain children. These were exchanged by the matrons of over eighty orphanages and the Harmonious Communal Outreach arm of the Republic's Inquisition."

Adam's old teacher let out a harrowed breath. "I didn't want to believe. I didn't want to think that the rot had sunk in so deep. So while I offered her a place to rest, I tried to convince her to go to the higher authorities, to see things settled through proper channels."

Adam winced dramatically. Meanwhile, Shiv pulled a sigil letter of his own out from his cape. Irons stopped talking, and Adam looked at Shiv, confused as to what he was doing.

"Hey, Educator," Shiv called off to the side.

The Forgotten Ascendant glared at him, interrupted by his sudden call. "What?" she almost snarled.

"Got a pencil or something? I got some writing I need to do."

She scoffed and ignored him while going back to tearing into her victim.

"Jackass," Shiv muttered under his breath. "Alright, plan B then." He pricked a hole in his own finger with his Biomancy and began stroking characters into the page of the sigil letter.

"Shiv, what are you doing?" Adam asked.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just telling someone what a piece of shit they are."

Dear Veronica, my godsdamn immortal fucking bitch of an absentee grandma:

Did you know that one of your Ascendants is going around kidnapping orphans? Well, in case you don't want to go down as the worst Councilwoman in existence, maybe consider cutting Daughter out of the equation. The 12 Ascendants doesn't sound too bad either. Maybe give that a think. Might be the smart thing to do.

He put his sync-letter away just then and saw Adam looking at him. "I'll tell you about that in a while. But keep going. I'm guessing Melissa didn't much like that suggestion."

"No," Irons said, shaking his head. "By the next morning, she was gone. And she stayed gone for the rest of the week, and the week after that. As she has no surviving next of kin aside from her missing sister, no one was driven to make a report."

"No one but you," Adam said.

"No one but me," Irons concurred quietly. "Despite this, I knew that the local constables and Investigators would not do anything, so I took things into my own hands. When I returned to my residence, I found some of the evidence she'd discovered hidden behind my shield in the armory. It seemed that Melissa suspected this might happen and left just a sliver of a chance for someone else to follow in her trail. So I did. But I knew I couldn't operate openly, not with my identity so easily verified."

And then, Irons looked toward the goblin sitting upon the operating table, and Shiv realized how the man had gotten into this mess.

"You bought a shell and a false semblance?" Adam gasped. "I—that just doesn't seem like a 'you' thing to do, Captain."

Irons shot Adam an odd look. "Do we really know each other that well, Young Lord Arrow?"

Adam's mouth opened and closed several times. A part of that statement seemed to sting. "I suppose not," he muttered.

"You suppose right," Irons said, but there was no malice in his voice. "You didn't know the me from years ago. I wasn't always a dutiful servant of the Republic, a proper soldier. We were all young once. We all had yearnings and periods of wanderlust, and during some of these periods, I simply drifted toward things that were ill-advised for me. They came with scars and opportunities."

"They came with you being a piece of shit!" Custiel suddenly cried out. The goblin had a mess of piercings, and his leather vest flapped about with the violence of his gestures. "What did you bring to my establishment? I told you, Irons, no trouble! You'll be hearing from the Dragon Brokers for this! You'll be wishing—"

Suddenly, the Educator reached down and seized the goblin by the neck. "I wasn't finished speaking with you," she said. Her voice was cold, and there was a promise of death behind every word.

The goblin choked. "I, yeah, of course, I'm just..."

"He is no longer a matter," she continued. "I am your only matter. I am your only client. You will not see anyone else for the next week, or however long it takes for you to complete all these shells and false semblances. We need to be gone from the city. We need to be gone fast. Furthermore, we require safe houses, locations that even the highest powers in the Empire will not think to search."

"Define 'highest powers'," the goblin said. "I can hook you up if you're just dealing with the Guard, but things outside don't sound so good. From what I heard, even Harlock's all over the place. The capital's in lockdown. I mean, what the hells did you people do? Piss off one of the Ascendants?"

Shiv and Adam looked at each other, and both of them snorted. "Try all of them, goblin," Shiv said with a grunt of bitter amusement.

He chuckled awkwardly. "Oh, is that a joke?"

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