Caelum Lex Chapter 30: The Fabulously Wealthy

It was surreal, Fiearius found, that it actually was Aiden, the Dionysian's wise professor, helping him steal jewelry from this man's mansion. He never thought he'd see the day when Aiden dipped his hand into theft... and yet, as Fiearius stood behind the tall hedge and watched, it was indeed Aiden who greeted Sanilac in the doorway, shook the man's hand in a forlorn sort of way, and then stepped into the mansion. And it was Aiden who made sure the door was unlocked behind him for he and Corra to enter.

And Aid insisted he'd never become a real pirate. Ha. No one was immune.

After waiting a solid minute, Fiearius crept up the icy porch and held his breath in his lungs as he slid his frame through the front door. Inside, the parlor was warm, gleaming, and richly decorated with paintings and vases. Fiearius felt comically out of place, like a broken piece of furniture dragged in from the alley.

But Fiearius wouldn't be seen at all if Aiden executed the plan properly, and Fiearius had the powerful sense that Aiden was very keen on doing this job well. And for good reason: before his retirement, Sanilac had been the president of a university - and he'd been the one to fire Aiden for his quiet Anti-Society leanings in the classroom.

Now, Aiden would play the part of a man begging for his old job back while Fiearius and Corra went for the jewelry upstairs. Silently as he could, Fiearius crossed toward the staircase, seizing Corra's wrist and pulling her along.

Behind them, voices floated from the sitting room: Aiden and Sanilac exchanging awkward greetings.

"Aiden, your message came as something of a shock," Sanilac was saying, followed by the sound of ice clinking into a glass. He sounded oddly satisfied when he added, "I do wish I could say you were looking better, old friend. You said - you said you needed help. Assistance. Is that right?"

"Yes ... I'm afraid so," replied Aiden's voice, mournful with regret.

Fiearius felt tempted to forget the necklace entirely and simply listen to the whole conversation instead, interesting as it was. In the years he'd known him, Aiden had never lied, let alone spun stories like this. The man was honest to a fault; he valued the truth. This? A whole fabrication of reality? It was fascinating. Just out of sight, Fiearius paused halfway up the staircase, listening.

"Come on hard times now, have you?" mused Sanilac, clicking his tongue."Yes ... yes, I'd imagine so. That tarnished record of yours ... hard to find work on decent planets ..." Fiearius felt a powerful rush of dislike. "Pity, pity. And what is it you're doing now?"

"Oh, nothing good, I'm afraid," Aiden said with a sigh. "I did a stint on a ship, traveling, menial work. It was all very unpleasant. Rickety boat. Low pay." A pause, and Fiearius swore Aiden's voice raised meaningfully when he added, "Deranged captain."

With that, a wry, broad smirk spread over Fiearius' face. He took his cue and continued his silent trek up the stairs. When he reached the first landing, safely out of earshot, he glanced to his counterpart who tailed behind him.

"If you had piles and piles of money," he muttered in an undertone to Corra, "where would you keep - "

Fiearius stopped short. In front of them, painted across an entire wall of the corridor, shone an enlarged Society librera, nearly as tall as Fiearius himself: the same mark of every Satierian flag, the same mark tattooed on his shoulder, the same proud display of loyalty - or venomous disloyalty, in his case.

The sight of it made his jaw tighten. Even here, on this quiet outer planet, the Society was growing a following. Sanilac was probably a benefactor, donating half his riches to their cause, if Fiearius had to guess. Leta wasn't wrong - the system really was growing more powerful.

If Fiearius wasn't eager to steal from Sanilac before, he certainly was now. He turned to Corra. "Where do the fabulously wealthy keep their jewelry?" he asked. When she stared back at him, her eyes narrowed in annoyance, he muttered, "Well you're no help..."

Rolling her eyes, Corra heaved an irritated sigh and pushed past him to continue down the corridor.

Fiearius had learned long ago that Corra had developed a something of knack for taking things that didn't belong to her while living under the watchful eye of Goddora. A natural troublemaker, she had more than once snuck out of bed at odd hours to snoop about the quarters of his wealthy visitors. The one story she'd told that actually stuck with him was one that revolved around a classy lady's tiny dog that started the tale being carried in a bag and ended running around the courtyard with the young ally for many years to come.

No wonder Goddora had been glad to be rid of her.

Her skills had come in handy in her earlier days aboard. Nowadays there was rarely an occasion to steal discreetly. Most of his tactics had turned to 'run in and shoot everybody' rather than carefully slinking his way through houses, but it hadn't always been that way. Once upon a time, simple theft and resale was how the three outcasts of the Dionysian got by. Corra had always been more than happy to lend her qualified hands.

This time, she didn't seem so pleased. Though happy to be here or not, she moved down the hallway, peering into doors with the careful precision he'd come to expect of her.

As Fiearius followed, Sanilac's voice rose from downstairs. "You're here looking to return to the university? Aiden, if only it were so easy ... "

Corra halted so sharply that Fiearius nearly walked right into her.

"Here," she said, indicating to a slightly cracked door. "It'll be in here. I'm almost sure of it."

Fiearius peered through the crack in the door. Inside was a bedroom, although it didn't look like any bedroom Fiearius had ever lived in. The handsome four-poster was impeccably made, the rugs swept neat on the floor, flames lit in the fireplace. The curtains were drawn back, allowing the cold light outside to flood in over the warm mahogany nightstands and resting table. Nothing in particular caught his attention except -

"The vanity, look," said Corra, indicating the intricately carved desk and drawers just under the window. "This must be the lady's room. If the necklace is anywhere, it's here."

Sound logic, indeed. Giving her a quick nod, Fiearius gently moved her aside and made to slip through the door. But before he could make it inside, he halted, his breath jumping into his throat: there was a flash of rich blue fabric past the doorway. Someone - Sanilac's wife, no doubt - was inside. In a flash, he recoiled back into the hallway, out of sight.

"Hello?" called the woman curiously. Then the voice whispered worriedly, "Marsden? Is that you?"

Fiearius froze in place. The woman, apparently deciding she was hearing things, disregarded the noise and stepped toward the vanity - the exact spot they needed to get to, of course. Standing hidden in the shadows, Fiearius exchanged a glance with Corra, who was watching him in alarm. So clearly she had no brilliant ideas ...

But he thought he might. Aiden had mentioned she and Sanilac did not seem to like each other much. So with all the confidence of someone who had no idea what he was doing, Fiearius suddenly stood tall, threw open the door and strolled into the room, speaking conversationally to Corra, "Hallway's clear, let's check in the-" And then, he stopped to stare at the woman in the room, looking only mildly surprised, like this was a minor inconvenience, nothing more.

"Who - just who are you?" the woman demanded, stumbling over her words as she swept around and grabbed the edge of the vanity defensively. "What are you doing in here?"

"Oh I beg your pardon, ma'am," Fiearius said at once, inclining his head. Corra, who had thankfully decided it was best to play along, did the same politely. "I thought no one was up here. Please, excuse the intrusion. I was given permission to search the upstairs. I didn't know there were-"

"Why do you need to search the house at all?" she interrupted, her tone less fearful and more hostile now. "Who are you?"

Determined to smooth this over, Fiearius provided her his most glowing, charming smile. "My apologies ma'am. My name is Oron Levistus. This is my associate, Petra Thiano." He gestured to Corra. "We're on security detail for Mr. Artura."

She narrowed her eyes in distaste. "Mr. Artura?"

For a moment, Fiearius worried perhaps she'd actually heard of Aiden. Perhaps she knew the name. Perhaps that dumb look on her face was skepticism that a fired professor would need security. But no, it wasn't recognition. It was confusion. So when he said, "Yes, Mr. Aiden Artura? Chief diplomat of the Tarin consulate?" she didn't laugh in disbelief. She gasped in awe.

"That's who was at the door?" she whispered. "What is he doing here?"

"Not my place to ask, ma'am." There was something rather satisfying about this lie. Aiden would get a laugh out of this one; he'd have to remember to tell him later. "I'm just assigned to ensure that the property is secure while he speaks to the man downstairs."

The lady regarded him quietly for a moment and then laughed a harsh laugh. "That man is my husband," she corrected, though, fortunately, she didn't sound so pleased about it.

"Oh," Fiearius replied, widening his eyes in false surprise. "Oh, I'm sorry. I-I just assumed he wasn't-well..."

Her eyes flicked towards him suspiciously, but there was a distinct hint of interest there too. She took the bait. "You assumed what?"

"Well, I mean..." Fiearius muttered awkwardly, looking down at his feet. "I'm sure he is a great man, but...someone such as him and...someone such as yourself, I didn't think-It's none of my business, terribly sorry, ma'am."

A coy, flattered smile pulled across her face and she took a step towards him for the first time. "Aw, aren't you sweet," she cooed softly. "But wrong, I'm afraid. He is my husband." Her eyes flickered briefly to the fireplace as she grumbled bitterly, "As little as he acts like it..."

This was almost too easy. "Well he is an ingrate to forsake such a gift as yourself," he stated simply and bowed his head again. "Now if you'll excuse us, we have business to-"

"Hang on," she said immediately, stepping towards him again. "Maybe I can help." Fiearius cocked a brow at her and she closed the gap even further. "What are you looking for...exactly?"

Fiearius eyed her warily. "Potential threats. Unsecured weaponry. Unsavory individuals..." he told her slowly, letting the words roll off his tongue delicately.

As the lady of the house smiled at him shyly, he felt Corra glaring at him, silently urging him to finish this. And for once, he agreed. He needed to hurry it up before it fell apart.

"I don't know about any threats," the woman went on thoughtfully. "Nor any weaponry. And the only unsavory individual I've seen...is standing right in front of me."

"Well I've full faith in your observation, ma'am." Fiearius smirked at her, "But I'm gonna need to apply my professional opinion as well, if that's alright by you."

She returned the smirk and held out her arm, the silk sleeve of her robe sliding back to reveal her pale, dainty wrist. "By all means."

With a nod to Corra, who diligently went about pretending to inspect the sofa cushions, Fiearius started opening drawers in the dresser, sifting through the books on the nightstand and running his hands through the curtains. Only when the two of them had scoured the entire room did he even approach the vanity and gently undo the hinge on the jewelry box.

Inside, there it was: the ornate oval necklace, the crown jewel, the prize. Even Fiearius, who knew exactly nothing about even the cheapest jewelry, had to appreciate how this piece shined so brightly he nearly had to squint.

Just then, he felt four slender fingers on his shoulder. "Mr. Levistus," breathed the woman in his ear, "what kind of woman do you take me for?"

Reluctantly letting the lid fall shut, Fiearius turned around to find Sanilac's wife standing far too close for comfort, though it wasn't suspicion or anger in her eyes for the attempted theft of her property. No, it was something very different.

"A lady doesn't keep weaponry in her jewelry box," she said softly, practically whispering in his ear. Briefly, Fiearius caught Corra's eye across the room. Her arms were crossed over her chest impatiently as she mouthed 'hurry up!' Again, he was inclined to agree.

"I have to check everywhere, ma'am," he said promptly and, in a decision he would come to regret, put his hand on her hip to push her away,

Unfortunately, just as did so, the door opened and a voice gasped. "Marjorie?!" As the woman (Marjorie, apparently), spun around dramatically to face her accuser, Fiearius too peered over her shoulder at the man standing in the doorway.

He was middle-aged, also dressed in a robe, his dark hair damp. His handsome face was contorted into a look of shock.

"Marsden," said the woman distastefully as she crossed her arms over her chest and sidled closer to Fiearius who sidled further away.

The man marched further into the room. "Marjorie, what is-" he began and looked down at Corra who blinked up at him with wide-eyed innocence, her lips sealed shut. "Who are these people?" he demanded. His eyes swung madly to Fiearius. "Who is he?"

"A friend," she said at once, seizing Fiearius' hand and not letting go despite him trying to yank it away.

"A friend?" Marsden repeated bitterly, stalking towards them. "A friend?!"

"Yes, Marsden, a friend," Marjorie replied sharply, turning on her heel to glare at him, effectively stopping his onslaught in its tracks.

"A friend..." he growled yet again. "Have I not been friend enough for you?"

Marjorie expelled a massive 'humph' and rolled her eyes. "Oh please, you're just as bad as Sanilac lately! Neither of you respect me. You both just want to hang me on your arm like a trophy. You claim love, but it's a lie." She swung her attention back to him and finished sharply, "I was a fool to think something between a lady and a servant would work. You're just in it for the status. You don't love me."

"And he does?" Marsden pleaded incredulously, gesturing to Fiearius.

"No," Fiearius replied immediately, as Marjorie blurted, "Yes!"

Fiearius raised his eyebrows. He was no stranger to ending up in uncomfortable situations during a job. He had come to expect them, actually. But as common as gun battles, fist fights and hostage situations were, this had to be the first time he ended up in the middle of lover's quarrel ...

"Yes he does," Marjorie declared with so much drama in her voice that Fiearius practically believed her. "More than my husband and certainly more than you ever did."

"No, I really don't," Fiearius felt the need to point out, glancing at Corra for help. She had her hand on her temple, shaking her head slowly at this unfolding soap opera.

"How dare you?!" Marsden demanded, apparently not hearing him. "Get your filthy hands off of her!"

Really not helping matters, Marjorie said shrilly, "He can put his filthy hands wherever he likes!" Which only served to piss the guy off even more. Fiearius could see the rage rising in his eyes. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. His fists were beginning to clench and any moment...

"You son of a bitch!" he cried and lunged.

Fiearius was prepared when Marsden swung his first blow. He parried his fist away and took a step back, dodging the second. Fortunately, skilled a lover as Marsden may or may not have been, he was certainly no fighter. He mostly seemed to just flail in Fiearius' general direction and hope that one of his arms was strong enough and fast enough to do some damage.

After only about a minute, Fiearius had enough: in one expert motion he seized the man's wrist and twisted, effectively holding him in place as he let out a yelp of pain.

"Now hang on just a minute here," Fiearius began calmly, trying to ignore the look of sheer pride exuding from Marjorie as the men 'fought over her'. "I don't give a damn about your mistress, alright?" And then that look of pride sank into a look of betrayal. "I'm just here for this." With his free hand, he reached over to the jewelry box and roughly yanked out the necklace. "Just this. That's all." He looked sharply at both of them, in turn. "And now I have it. So I'm going to leave. Leave you two to...do whatever it is you need to do."

He used his grip on Marsden to shove him towards Marjorie, who caught the man as he proceeded to nurse his poor, injured wrist in her arms. The necklace in hand, Fiearius turned towards the door and headed towards it, nodding for Corra to follow.

Fiearius only made it a few steps though before he felt a sudden weight attach itself to his back and skinny arms encircling around his neck.

"Give that back, you lying thief!" Marjorie shrieked, clawing at him furiously. Staggering back on his feet, he tried to shake her off, but it only made her more angry. Her legs locked around his, her hand latched into his hair and she yanked him backwards, nearly pulling him off his feet.

"Aggh, get off!" he growled, swiping at her with his arm helplessly. Directly behind him, she was just out of his reach, clinging to his back and relentlessly trying to bring him down.

As one of her sharp fingernails barely missed his eye, Fiearius threw Corra a pleading look to do something to stop this. Unfortunately, Corra seemed to be rather enjoying the show. Still poised impatiently, she was watching Fiearius battle with the parasitic woman on his back with a smirk on her face.

Nonetheless, as Marjorie got a good shot at his wrist and dug her nails in so hard it drew blood, Corra let out a sigh, as though this were such a bore, and drew her gun from where it was holstered beneath her coat.

"Alright, down, girl," said Corra sharply, aiming at Marjorie's head.

The woman shrieked - Fiearius threw a hand over her mouth, just in time - and finally released her grip. Across the room, Corra had already reached for her other pistol to point at Marsden, who was sputtering in utter terror, backing away with his hands in the air. So now they had two terrified lovers just aching to screw this up ...

"You got any rope?" said Fiearius hopefully, and Corra rolled her eyes.

Luckily, Majorie had a collection of woven silk scarves that were just as effective. Soon after, Fiearius was crouched on his legs, tying knots around Marsden's wrists, attaching him to the sofa beside his estranged beloved, and then Corra started complaining.

He wondered when this would start.

"You know, this whole thing was avoidable," she said, breaking the long silence that had prevailed since he'd shoved a scarf in Marjorie's whimpering mouth. Fiearius glanced up at her tiredly. He was well used to Corra's lectures by now. "We could have just waited," she went on. "I don't know why you had to barge in here and come up with some stupid ridiculous act. Just to show off? Don't you ever get tired of being such an exhibitionist?"

"No," Fiearius replied at once, standing up and admiring his two squirming two captives thoughtfully. "You two be good now," he chided. "Someone will find you soon enough. And just remember. When they do. We'll already be gone. So don't even try."

"This is just dumb," Corra snapped. "If you weren't so damn arrogant, none of this would have happened."

"Why does it matter?" Fiearius laughed. "We got what we came for." He held up the necklace, which glinted brightly in his hand, and he grinned.

"At what cost though?" she asked, gesturing towards Marjorie and Marsden who blinked up at them, teary-eyed.

"Oh they're fine," Fiearius told her with a shrug, sliding the necklace into his pocket. "C'mon, let's get outta here." He headed for the door, but even in those first few steps, he knew Corra wasn't following. He could almost feel her anger radiating from across the room.

"Are they fine?!" she snapped suddenly, in such a tone that gave him no choice but to stop and look back. "Are they? What do you think her husband's gonna do when he finds them up here like this? And if she tells him how you were able to get the thing to begin with. And when he realizes what you stole. What's gonna happen then?!"

Fiearius just blinked back at her, perplexed. "Probably nothing. Why do you care anyway?"

"I care because-" Corra began, gasping for air, "Because I just do! Shut up! I hate you!" And with all the dignity of an eleven year old, she threw her hands in the air in exasperation.

Fiearius stared at her, perplexed. Surely this wasn't the time for a fit. Or was it a fit? He'd seen Corra viciously angry at him before, but this was just - distress.

"Corra..." he muttered, somewhere between unease and annoyance, taking a step towards her.

"No!" she yelled. "Don't 'Corra' me. I'm so sick of you and how you think you're so damn right all the time, even about things you don't even understand and I'm tired of it and you're not right all the time. You're never right. You're wrong. You don't understand and you're wrong so shut up."

Dumbstruck, Fiearius blinked his eyes slowly, trying to understand what was happening here. It occurred to him that this outburst of hers had very little to do with their captives and very much to do with something else.

"Is this about Cyrus?" he ventured carefully, anticipating her pulling a gun on him for the comment.

Thankfully, she did not, but the storm brewing in her face made it clear she was considering it.

"No, it's not about Cyrus!" she raged. "It's about you! And how you're a stupid know-it-all with an ego the size of a planet and how you're a shitty captain who ignores his crew and doesn't fulfill his promises and how you shove your nose in business that isn't yours and say things that aren't true without even thinking about if they're hurtful or not and I've had enough of it!"

Then, she suddenly reached for the nearest object to her, an ugly decorative pillow, and tossed it at him with all the force her arm could manage.

The pillow knocked him in the face, then hit the floor. Wincing, he muttered, "So it is about Cyrus..."

If possible, Corra looked even angrier now, and she grasped blindly for the next closest object which was, much to his dismay, a heavy brass lamp. Just as she was raising it above her head, Fiearius rushed towards her, hands outstretched in alarm.

"Woah, woah, hang on, princess, hang on," he said, though she continued to hold it threateningly in the air, ready to swing it at his face and just waiting for him to give her the right reason.

Hopefully he wouldn't...

"Look, I'm-I'm sorry," he went on, hoping to see some slack in her stance. There wasn't, so he pressed on, "I shouldn't have said anything and I'm sorry." Still, nothing. She looked just as ready to pummel him as ever. He heaved a sigh and dropped his hands to his sides. "I didn't-it's not your fault, okay?" He met her eyes which were slowly softening. "It's not your fault..."

And then the lamp started to lower. "I know the whole...affectionate touchy Corra thing?" he continued. "That's just you. Being you. And it's not your problem that my little brother is too much of a social invalid to realize that."

Her frown came back suddenly as she demanded, "Then why'd you say it was me? That it's my fault he can't get over it? Why'd you say that and make me feel crappy if that's not even-"

"It's not your fault for being you," he interrupted before her angry tirade got any worse. "But..." and here he hesitated, already able to feel whatever strike she was about to lay on him, "Sometimes...you gotta play to the disability." She tilted her head in confusion. "Think of it this way. You're a teacher. You write out your lessons on a board. But one of your students is blind. Do you expect that student to understand the lesson?" Still not really understanding, she shook her head slowly. "No. So you're Corra, you specialize in touchy-feely happy friendships, but you've got a friend who's too blind to differentiate between friendship and romance because he's never been that exposed to either. What do you do?"

Corra looked at him, lost. "Learn braille?"

"Well ... yeah," Fiearius acknowledged slowly, "but no. Cyrus is an idiot. Which is not your fault. But treating him as though he's not an idiot. That might be." He smirked hopefully, fully prepared to be met with a household object to the face.

To his surprise, Corra looked down at her feet thoughtfully and lowered her arms again. After a moment, her eyes swung back up to him. "So what's the answer? What am I supposed to do?" she breathed, her tone finally softening.

Heartened, Fiearius said, "Aid's right. You need to just be honest with him. Cyrus is a scientist, give it to him straight in language he'll understand. I know he's a sensitive little prick so telling him anything he doesn't like is an uncomfortable, dramatic affair, but he's not a total moron and he's not a child. He might throw a little fit, in fact, he probably will, but he's not gonna give up what you guys have for the sake of what you haven't." Half as a gesture of comfort and half as extra encouragement to put down the battering object, he reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder. "He values you far more than that."

Finally, it worked. Corra's frame relaxed, the lamp dropped to her feet with a gentle, innocent clatter and she sighed. "Yeah I know..." she muttered. "I just hate seeing him upset..."

"Well I hate hearing both of you complain so ... hurry up and sort this shit out," Fiearius told her bluntly.

Corra rolled her eyes, but there was a smile on her face. Small and nearly hidden behind a mask of despair, but it was there. A silence lapsed between them until her attention fell back to the two bound captives who were just staring up at them, confused.

"You sure they'll be okay?" she asked curiously.

"No," Fiearius told her honestly with a shrug, glancing down at them himself. "But do we care?" He met Corra's eyes and she smirked skeptically. "Hey, if anything, we taught them a valuable lesson about the perils of adultery."

"Good point," Corra admitted, tilting her head and following Fiearius as he made towards the door again. "Hey cap'n?"

"Yeah?"

"These people. That guy downstairs. Cyrus. Rich people can be pretty stupid, huh?" she mused thoughtfully.

A grin came to his own face. "They sure are, princess. They sure are."

-----------------------------------------

With the stolen necklace sitting in Fiearius' trouser pocket, and Corra looking decidedly less murderous than before, the mood was considerably lighter, inching toward the giddiness of impending victory, when they hurried out of the mansion.

Quickly and quietly, Corra and Fiearius padded downstairs as Aiden finished goodbyes with Sanilac. ("I only wished there was something even more I could do," Sanilac was saying sadly, "You know I'm a very charitable man to the needy ... ")

Now, safely out in the street and making their way back to the ship, Fiearius clasped one hand on Aiden's shoulder, another on Corra's.

"So that was fun," he declared cheerfully, ignoring Corra's snort of laughter. "Don't you just love the sweet taste of victory? Especially when victory isn't lightly seasoned in blood and gunpowder? See, my job's not always bad." He grinned at Aiden hopefully. "And we make such a great team. Why would you ever want to be a professor when you could do this? Together, we could rule the span. Just think of the glory, Aid. Think of the glory!" he yelped, while knowing full well Aiden had loved his career as a professor. But it was not a life he could imagine, personally.

"This is certainly more thrilling," Aiden admitted, but he wasn't, Fiearius noticed curiously, grinning back. He wasn't looking at Fiearius at all, but rather walking thoughtfully with his hands in his pockets. His eyes were dimmed, focused somewhere in the middle distance.

"You alright, professor?" Fiearius ventured hesitantly. At last Aiden sent him a glance, knitting his brow in bemusement, or perhaps puzzlement.

"Well." He gave a one-note laugh. It died off quickly. "Sanilac offered me my job back."