"AHHCHOO!!!" Victoria exclaid, rubbing her nose and sniffing as she lay in a dical bed covered in bandages.
"Is there a draft Ms. Snow? Would you like to close the window?" A Flaming Dawn nurse exclaid as she frantically rushed over, reaching out as Viktoria slapped her hands away.
"I'm fine! Get off !!" She shouted, causing the nurse to flinch before returning to her post as Viktoria turned her head, staring out the window.
***
"Okay, Khione, Return!" Jackson ordered, exiting the bathroom wearing only a towel as the kitten wed, leaping off the bed into the air and vanishing before his tattoo regained its vibrancy; he returned the bodysuit and got dressed, leaving his hotel room and departing the massive inn.
He turned toward the plaza, heading toward the eting's location with The Jackal. He passed through the main gate of the city's walls and stepped along the cobblestone road leading down from the castle district until he arrived at an area where many shops lined both sides of the street.
No signs indicated what kind of business these places offered, but each storefront sold random sorts of goods. One shop sold leather armor; another, swords made of steel or silver. Another place seed to sell nothing more than foodstuffs, while another displayed various clothing for n and won alike.
He passed by all of these, heading for the stoop of a high-end residential building where Viktoria had stopped him earlier. It looked like any other apartnt complex on the outside, so it wasn't easy to tell that this particular ho belonged to one of the most notorious people in The Tower.
He knocked twice and waited. After about five minutes, the door opened slowly. Standing inside were two figures: one tall and thin, the other short and stout. They wore matching black suits—the taller man's suit coat open, revealing a white shirt underneath, while the shorter figure wore a long, dark gray trench coat. Both their faces bore expressions of extre displeasure.
Jackson ignored their looks, stepping forward between them and entering the house without being invited. Once inside, they followed behind him silently. There was scarcely any furniture except for so large cushions around the floor. In front of those sat three seats facing each other across a low table.
The taller man moved first, brushing past Jackson's shoulder as he approached the back of the room, leaning back against the wall next to the door. The man's eyes never left him as the short man brushed past his shoulder, took up position opposite his friend, and knocked on the door twice.
After several seconds, soone else entered the room. This person walked up to Jackson and said, "You're late."
It was none other than The Jackal, Victor Dalton himself, who stood eye to eye with Jackson despite having been born decades later. His face was still young, but his body showed signs of age under his clothes.
"Sorry," Jackson replied simply, "I was held up by personal matters."
Victor nodded once, then motioned him to sit down, "So, what is your na again? I can't rember ever seeing you here before today."
"My na is Jackson... but everyone calls Jax." He replied, taking a seat and sitting cross-legged on one of the cushions.
"Very well, Jax. You are aware why we have called you here today, yes?" Victor asked, turning his attention to the short man standing beside him, holding a cigar and snapping his fingers.
The short man sprang into action, pulling out a match and the lighting end of the cigar for his boss, who drew deeply, inhaling deep enough to make his chest puff outward slightly as Jackson replied to his back, "Yes, I'm here to request passage to the Sixth Floor."
"Ah, yes, that's right, I rember now. Tetraktys wanted you, the 'Solo Climber'..." Victor muttered quietly, exhaling smoke as he sat across from Jackson, glaring into his eyes.
"That's correct. If possible, please allow to progress on to the sixth floor." Jackson requested politely.
"Hmmm, how interesting. Well, let think about it. How much are you offering?" Victor asked, blowing out another cloud of smoke.
"What do you an?"
"Well, if you want my help, I'll need sothing in return. What will you give ?"
"What could I possibly offer you?" Jackson wondered aloud.
"Well, you must know that The Tower has certain rules regarding visitors. As far as I am concerned, you may pass freely through the portal, but alas it's not up to ."
"Tribute...?" Jackson repeated.
"Yes, exactly. That ans you bring things to us. Weapons, items, anything valuable. And every ti you visit, you may be provided with a task to complete. Do you understand?" The Jackal explained bluntly.
"No, not really..." Jackson admitted.
"Don't worry about it too much, we'll ask you to collect sothing from this guy, deliver sothing to that guy, rough up soone who isn't following the rules, stuff like that!" Victor suggested, waving his hand dismissively.
"What if I decline?" Jackson inquired doubtfully.
"Then you won't get permission to ascend to the sixth floor. But don't feel bad about it. Most people refuse. Those who co back empty-handed after refusing usually regret it very quickly, but you don't look like that kind of guy, am I right?"
"No, sir." Jackson answered honestly.
"Good. Then there should be no problem. Now, I've already heard everything from Tetraktys, so you might as well tell yourself. Why did you decide to climb to the top of The Tower alone?"
"I thought I'd try doing it myself. To prove that I could do it better than anyone else."
"Why?"
"Because I wanted to beco stronger."
"Huh, sounds pretty selfish to , but whatever, you're life kid." Victor shrugged, shaking his head, "What do you have for tribute?"
"Tch!" Jackson clicked his tongue, "I have credits and two basic swords, nothing else of value to offer."
"Now, I find that hard to believe! Whatever, it's 100k to buy a ticket." The Jackal squinted his eyes, glaring at him, smoke floating out of his mouth.
"100k!?!" Jackson exclaid, "No Climber is going to have that kind of cash on the fifth floor!"
"Good thing you're not a normal Climber, now, isn't it?" The Jackal smirked as Jackson gritted his teeth together, handing over the credits reluctantly.
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