{Isabella}
The workshop was a shithole.
Isabella stood outside the cramped building, nose wrinkling at the sll of cheap solder and burnt wood wafting through the gaps in the door. A hand-painted sign above read "DERRICK’S MAGICAL SUPPLIES" in letters that were already peeling.
[This is where my reputation is going to die. In a back-alley rat den that slls like burnt hair.]
She pushed the door open.
The interior was sohow worse than the exterior suggested. Worktables cluttered with half-finished projects, tools scattered everywhere, and in the corner—
Wands.
Dozens of them. Crude, ugly things that looked nothing like Isabella’s elegant designs. But they were recognizable enough. The basic shape was there. The concept was there.
Her concept. Stolen.
A wiry human man looked up from his workbench, squinting at her through smudged glasses.
"Shop’s closed. Co back tomorrow."
"Are you Derrick?"
"Who’s asking?"
Isabella stepped into the light, letting him get a good look at her. Pink hair. Fox ears. The kind of smile that made smart people nervous.
"Isabella Sumr. Inventor of the wand. The real one, not—" she gestured at the trash heap on his table, "—whatever those are supposed to be."
Derrick’s face went through several emotions in rapid succession. Surprise. Fear. Then, settling on defensive hostility.
"I know who you are. What do you want?"
"I want to know why you’re selling knockoff wands that explode in people’s faces."
"They don’t explode."
"One of them blew up in a guard’s hand last week. He lost two fingers."
Derrick flinched. Just slightly, but Isabella caught it.
"That’s—look, that’s not my fault. People don’t follow instructions. They overcharge them, they use the wrong essence types—"
"Your wands can’t handle essence output because you don’t understand what they’re ant for!" Isabella picked up one of the finished wands from the table, examining it with disgust. "The point of a wand is to make spellcasting easier, not more powerful. Constructing such designs that allow too much essence to be poured inside..."
She snapped the wand in half.
Derrick yelped.
"That was finished! That was ready to sell!"
"That was a bomb waiting to happen." Isabella dropped the pieces on the floor. "You’re not just undercutting my prices, Derrick. You’re putting people in danger. And you’re doing it with my design."
"Your design?" Derrick’s voice rose. "You don’t own the concept of a stick that casts spells! I figured out how to make them myself!"
"By copying my work."
"By improving on it! Making it accessible!" He jabbed a finger at her. "You charge twenty gold per wand. Twenty! Regular people can’t afford that. I’m giving them an alternative."
"You’re giving them garbage that might kill them."
"It’s better than nothing!"
Isabella took a deep breath.
[Don’t set him on fire. Don’t set him on fire. lisa would be disappointed if you set him on fire.]
"Let explain sothing to you," she said, her voice dropping to sothing cold and precise. "I invented wands. I spent years perfecting the design, testing materials, making sure they were safe. And now you’re churning out cheap copies that ruin people’s trust in the entire concept."
She stepped closer. Derrick backed up until he hit his workbench.
"Every ti one of your pieces of shit malfunctions, people don’t bla you. They bla wands. They bla . My reputation—my life’s work—is being destroyed because you wanted to make a quick coin."
"I’m just trying to make a living," Derrick said, but his voice had lost its bluster. "I’ve got debts. Responsibilities. Your fancy kitsune family might not understand what that’s like, but so of us don’t have—"
"Don’t."
Sothing in Isabella’s tone made him shut up.
"I’m going to give you one chance," she said. "Stop making wands. Destroy your stock. Find another way to make money that doesn’t involve killing people with faulty magical equipnt."
"And if I don’t?"
"Then I report you to the city guard for selling dangerous magical items without certification. Which, last I checked, carries a minimum sentence of five years in the dungeon." Isabella smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. "Your choice."
She turned and walked out before he could respond.
The streets of Syux’s rchant district were crowded, but Isabella barely noticed. Her mind was churning.
[One guy. One shitty little workshop. But those rumors ntioned multiple incidents across the city. Different districts. Different guard posts.]
Derrick couldn’t be supplying all of that alone. His operation was too small, too amateur.
Which ant there were others.
A whole network of counterfeiters, maybe. Copying her designs, flooding the market with dangerous knockoffs, and she’d only found one thread of it.
[Fuck.]
She needed help.
---
Isabella found her mother in the living room of her house, lounging on a pile of cushions while reading so kind of scroll. She looked up as Isabella entered, her green eyes warm.
"Bella! What a lovely surprise. I wasn’t expecting you until—"
Isabella flopped face-first onto the cushions, her head landing in Kimiko’s lap.
"Mommy, everything is terrible."
Kimiko’s hand imdiately found her hair, stroking gently.
"Tell ."
So Isabella did. The knockoff wands. Derrick’s workshop. The realization that it wasn’t just one counterfeiter but probably an entire network.
"And I can’t track them all down myself," Isabella finished, her voice muffled by Kimiko’s thigh. "I’m a mage, not an investigator. I wouldn’t even know where to start."
"Hmm." Kimiko’s fingers worked through a tangle in Isabella’s hair. "This is a problem. Your wands are your legacy. We can’t let cheap imitations destroy what you’ve built."
"I know. But what am I supposed to do? I can’t be everywhere at once."
"No. But you know soone who’s very good at finding people who don’t want to be found."
Isabella lifted her head.
"Who?"
Kimiko smiled.
"Raven."
[Oh. Oh, that’s actually brilliant.]
Raven had spent her entire childhood training as an assassin. Tracking targets, gathering information, moving through shadows. If anyone could map out a network of counterfeiters, it was her.
"She’s supposed to be guarding that old scholar guy," Isabella said. "Lord Cassian or whatever."
"I’m sure she could spare so ti for a friend. The poor thing has been moping around without lisa anyway. This might be good for her."
Isabella sat up fully, her tail starting to wag despite herself.
"You think she’d help?"
"I think she’d be delighted to have sothing useful to do." Kimiko tucked a strand of hair behind Isabella’s ear. "Go ask her. The worst she can say is no."
Isabella leaned in and kissed Kimiko.
"You’re the best."
"I know." Kimiko’s smile was smug. "Now go save your business. And bring Raven back here when you’re done—she needs to eat more. That girl is too skinny."
Isabella was already heading for the door.
Ti to recruit an assassin.
But as she walked, a thought nagged at her.
Derrick was an idiot. His wands were dangerous garbage. But his stupid, wrong argunt had planted sothing in her brain.
[Wands make casting easier. Faster. More accessible. But they don’t make spells stronger.]
But what if...
[What if there was a way to do both?]
She filed the thought away for later. Right now, she had counterfeiters to hunt.
But soday, when this ss was sorted out, she’d revisit that idea.
Soday.
Reviews
All reviews (0)