Wednesday, November 7, 2012

A City of Wax - Episode 5



Wax stared at the coin. “…Eilonia, I don’t think I was the target.” Eilonia quirked a delicate eyebrow at him questioningly.
  “He attacked you by mistake, then?” She asked.
  “No…” Wax said, “I don’t think he was meant to kill anyone. I think someone meant for him to die.”

            Wax stood up to leave again but Eilonia stood with him, curling a slender arm around his. He turned to see her flashing a warm smile to a long table in the center of the room. If Wax hadn’t know the woman for as long as he had, he might have thought it was sincere. “You can’t leave yet. You’ve officially earned yourself the position of my company for the evening in the eyes of every guest here, and it would be taboo for you to walk out on me.” She hissed at him, her smile never faltering. Wax sighed.

            “How much longer will this thing last?” he asked.
            “I have no idea, it honestly depends on how many people are planning to speak. You needn’t pay attention to what they’re saying, simply smile and applaud when they’re finished. You made this bed when you walked in here, and now you’re going to sleep in it.” She explained, tugging him towards the center table. “And now, we’re being invited to join the host of the entire event at his table, so I expect you to be on your best behavior.” She finished. Wax recognized a few faces in the small group; they were primarily owners or co-owners of some of the city’s largest companies. The host, however, he wasn’t familiar with. An older, yet powerfully built Aven man with an air of dignity and a hint of aloofness about him. He stood from his seat as the pair approached, offering a smile to Eilonia.
            “Miss Melothrir. It has been too long.” He spoke with the accent of a man from Avenoss, twinged with the hints of linguistic decay that settles over the words of a man who’s been too long away from home. Eilonia offered him her hand, and he kissed it.
            “I would have to agree, Mister Von Lothar.” Eilonia smiled pleasantly at him.
            “Please,” he replied as he released her hand, “Call me Markus.” Wax barely suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Von Lothar turned to face him next. His shallow blue eyes appeared to critically assess Wax as he did so, and the feeling was enough to put him on edge. “I’m afraid I have not yet had the pleasure to meet your companion for the evening, Eilonia” he said, offering a hand to Wax, “I am Markus Von Lothar, owner and founder of the Von Lothar Mechanicals Company.” Wax had seen that name somewhere before, but couldn’t place it. Regardless, he shook the man’s large hand firmly.

            “Wax.” He introduced himself. Von Lothar chuckled, his voice deep and authoritative even in a laugh.
            “Wax?” he asked, “Your parents named you for a candle? Surely not… What is your birth name?” Wax sighed.
            “Weston” he surrendered his name reluctantly, “Weston Castyl. But I prefer Wax.”
            “Wax it is, then. Wax Castyl.” The man chuckled to himself again as he repeated the name. “A castle of wax… An intriguing image, to be sure” he mused as he waved a hand, inviting the pair to sit down at the table. “Easily constructed, perhaps even inexpensively so; a spectacle in its own right… And yet, sacked by a simple flame.” Wax feigned an amused look for Von Lothar’s musings as he slid his hand into his coat pocket, rubbing his thumb along the familiar corner of his smog tin. “Correct me if I am wrong, Mister Wax, but Castyl is a Heartlander name, is it not?” He asked. Wax nodded.
            “It is, yes.” He replied.
            “But you clearly bear the strong face of an Aven. How is it that an Aven came to own a Heartlander’s family name?” he asked. Wax released his smog tin and folded his hands in front of him.
            “My mother was an Aven, and my father a Heartlander. I took more after her, in my looks, but chose to live here in Nexus.” He explained, reluctant to give any more information than he was required to. “After my father died, my mother returned to Avenoss with my sister, and I chose to remain here as it was a better location for my line of work.” He explained.
            “And what is it exactly that you do, Mister Wax?” Von Lothar inquired.
            “I’m a private investigator.” Wax replied. “It’s part of why I’m here this evening.”
            “So, you’re working for Eilonia, then?” Von Lothar asked. Wax shook his head.
            “No. I’m actually not currently employed by anyone, however I am pursuing a suspicious string of events involving my own attempted murder.” Wax said. He cursed himself inwardly for having spoken so loudly, as he now had the attention of the entire table. To his relief, Von Lothar waved them back to their own conversations before returning his attention to Wax.
            “Someone attempted to kill you? What does that have to do with Eilonia?” He asked, casting her a concerned glance as if to assure her he was still aware of her presence.
            “It doesn’t. Not directly, anyway. Among the would-be assassin’s possessions, I found a considerable amount of money; five thousand shillings, to be precise.” He turned his gaze casually to Eilonia, resisting the urge to smirk at the warning look he saw behind her smile. “I have no want for blood money, so I gave the entire sum to Eilonia, in order that she could donate it to whatever cause she saw best fit.” He explained.
           
            “Well, my company certainly appreciates your generosity, Mister Wax, but what of the matter of your attacker?” Von Lothar asked, intrigued by the story.
            “As it turns out,” Wax continued, “The shillings in the bag weren’t all the man had on him. Inside his pocket watch I found another shilling, a gold aurum, which turned out to be counterfeit. I was afraid that the money I’d given to Eilonia was counterfeit. I couldn’t risk allowing counterfeit coin to be donated, so I rushed down here to warn her.”
            “And the coins she had?” Von Lothar inquired.
            “Legitimate. It seems I have the only counterfeit. It may well be a template piece used by the counterfeiters to reproduce, but I can’t be sure.” Wax finished. Von Lothar looked thoughtful for a moment, and then nodded.
            “Interesting indeed, Mister Wax. I wish you the best of luck in your investigations.” He let that be the end of the conversation, for which Wax was thankful. After a short time, Von Lothar excused himself from the table, having other business matters to attend to. He bid the group a good evening, kissed the back of Eilonia’s hand, and departed. When he’d vanished from sight, Wax excused himself as well. Eilonia stood with him and followed him out of earshot of the others. “Where will you go now?” she asked.
            “I have some theories I need to confirm.” Wax said. “The first thing I need to find out is the name of the man who attacked me. He had no identification on him that night, but the body is likely still at the morgue. Someone down there may be able to tell me more about him.” He explained. Eilonia nodded.
            “Just try not to get shot again, and tell me what you find out. You know I’ll be curious.” She said, giving him a practiced smile and peck on the cheek; a show for the benefit of the others in the room. She glided back across the room and reclaimed her seat, and Wax made for the exit.

            “Mister Wax?” Spoke a voice from behind him as he approached the door. Wax turned to see a short, sharply dressed man.
            “Who’s asking?” He replied.
            “Pardon the short notice, sir, but my employer wishes to speak with you in private concerning a matter of great importance.” He said. “Please follow me.” Hesitantly, Wax followed the man into a side corridor, separated from the central room. He was led to a large office door, which the smaller man pushed open and ushered him inside. Wax entered cautiously, and the man closed the doors behind him, remaining outside. The interior of the office was richly decorated, but dimly lit by a small number of phlogiston lamps and a fire hearth. Thin tendrils of smoke from a pipe bowl rose from a concealed source on the other side of a large, high-backed chair. Instinctively, Wax moved with deft footsteps, his hand slipping into his coat and resting on the handle of his revolver.
            “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” spoke a familiar voice from the armchair, “I must apologize for the method by which you were contacted. I simply couldn’t risk discussing this matter in the open, in front of the others.” Markus von Lothar’s powerful shape rose from the chair to face Wax, who dropped his hand from his weapon and folded his arms.
            “What did you need me for?” he asked. Von Lothar sighed.
            “Earlier this evening, you confirmed a suspicion I have had for quite some time now. Yours is not the first story I’ve heard about counterfeit money being produced in this city. I’m assuming the piece you found was of abnormally high quality for counterfeiters, correct?” He asked. Wax nodded. “I feared as much. Please. Sit.” Von Lothar directed Wax to a chair.

            “About a month ago, I was informed by one of my colleagues that a specific project prototype had been stolen from his facility. The prototype that was stolen was a specific kind of metal alloy, designed to nearly identically replicate the appearance and physical properties of other metals. Its intended purpose was to mask and repair damage to machine parts and weapon casings. Not long after that, we began discovering counterfeit coins in our machines.” He explained. Wax listened quietly as the man spoke. “I’m sure you’re aware, Mister Wax, that my company is responsible for the production and upkeep of every Alchemer and similar distribution machine in the city of Nexus. We pride ourselves on our anti-theft measures built into the machines; however they only extend so far. We can’t afford the resources to have them individually monitored, because there are too many. I am prepared to hire you, Mister Wax, for six times your normal rate, if you will find the source of these counterfeit coins and put an end to it. Profits from the sales of vices alone have never been higher, and I cannot afford to have the most profitable time the company has ever seen ruined by thieves. Nor will I have the good name and integrity of either my own or my partners’ companies compromised. I need these counterfeiters to be stopped before they’re able to fool my Alchemers.” He finished. Wax gazed ponderously at the hearth for a moment before responding.
“You’ve got a deal.” He said.

“Excellent. One more thing. I don’t want to cause any kind of panic or alarm, which is why I chose to meet here in my office rather than discuss this in the open around my colleagues. I therefore must ask you not to mention this to any of them.” Said Von Lothar. Wax nodded his agreement and the men shook hands firmly. Wax saw himself out of the office. He quickly made his way back down the hall and out to where his steambike waited for him. His mind swarmed furiously with new information and leads, but for now, he sped off to exchange his borrowed finery for his thick coat. It was time he made another trip to The Gardenworks, and he was going to need it.