FSE

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Characters:

Greggory Bast (Male, Sphinx cat (Noble), 22) Allomancer: Mistborn

Cain (Male, Pitbull (Skaa/Noble), 25) Allomancer: Mistborn

Notes:

So slight admission of fault for the Mistborn readers; I could NOT remember, while writing this, whether or not a Mistborn could use bronze through a coppercloud. I tried reading the wikis but couldn’t quite figure it out. Taking personal liberties, I decided that for my works a Mistborn can use bronze through their OWN coppercloud, but a Seeker or Mistborn can’t use it through another’s. So Misting Seekers and Smokers avoid each other, but a Mistborn can still use bronze at all times.

Buuuuut then I read along in the books and got to a point where it all but confirms that a Mistborn burning copper can’t sense things with bronze. So, uh, my bad. The story as I’m telling it kinda ends up ‘needing’ Greggory using copper and bronze at the same time, so I’m not inclined to change it, but I’ll cop to that mistake lol.

Story Text:

Greggory, garbed in a mistcloak of long cloth tassels swirling in the soft breeze, stood poised on the steepled roof of a tall building.

He squatted down low, toes curled against the stone edge of the building, one paw on the slope beside him. His hood tucked high over his head, slits allowing his pointed, furless ears to fold down low. Around him, densely packed buildings rose high at varied degrees, pressing together and looming over one another.

Tail swaying, the hairless cat Mistborn slipped his free paw to his belt, pulling out one of the vials of oil and metal flakes slotted in place there. Travelling across the city’s length had burnt through a good deal of his stores. With a flick of his thumb, he uncorked it, letting the little stopper bounce away and down to the streets, many stores below. Greggory then tipped the glass vial to his lips, gulping down the contents of it, before discarding the vial the same way as the cork, letting it drop to the ground below.

Renewed, he stoked the ‘flame’ of metals burning in his belly, letting out a quiet and content exhale. It warmed him from the inside, a comfort against the cold of the night. The mists nearby seemed to twitch at his refilled burning, fingers of cold pale curling against his shirt, cloak, and face.

In particular, he mentally checked that his copper was burning. Of the Allomantic metals that most tended to ignore, at least as far as outright combat, copper was at the top of the list.

And yet, on a stealth mission as Greggory was at that moment, it was vital to avoid detection. Copper’s granted ability was an invisible cloak, masking his use of Allomancy to others who could, ordinarily, detect it. This meant that he could burn metals as he pleased, and as long as he wasn’t visually seen, no one would be aware a Mistborn was in their midst.

Of course, it had some other advantages. Blocking Emotional Allomancy, for one; he was pretty sure his sister was why he rarely got copper in the Keep, just to ensure he was vulnerable to her invisible ‘goading’.

Regardless, for the most part, as long as he had his copper burning, he knew he was safe. All the same, he instinctively flared it a bit as he was so close to possible detectors.

Coppercloud established, the hairless cat slipped his paw along the leather belt at his waist further, going to a ‘pouch’ near the back and tugging out a slip of paper from its fold. It was a bit of a large scrap, folded down to about the size of his hand.

Opening the slip, Greggory gazed over the writing and diagram of Keep Lobos’s grounds, the towering fortification standing in front of him, lit by limelights from the outside. The messaging was simple; their guards moved in two inverse circles, rotating around the perimeter. Soon, two patrols of armored protectors would pass one another, and after they did would be his opening to slip into the Keep behind them, undetected.

But, House Lobos was adamant about using Allomancers for protection. A note on the slip of paper warned to thoroughly probe the grounds from a distance before advancing. Tineyes, Seekers, or Coinshots may take notice of his movements, even if a normal guardsman may not.

He exhaled, and returned the paper to his belt.

Then, he Flared the bronze in his stomach.

Having it burning, he’d felt a few dull pulses, but nothing too distinct. Enough to have felt if some other Allomancer was flaring metals nearby, or was approaching closely. But, as he increased the burn, stoking it in his abdomen, the pulses grew more distinct, rhythmic, and he could almost hear or feel the distinct directions they came from.

Through those pulses, via a variety of factors, one could come to determine what metals were being burnt, how intensely, even targets of Emotional Allomancy and what the Rioter or Soother intended to do. Pulse movement, beat, speed… these slight differences, with training, could be identified and read as easily as other things.

Though, for the most part, as long as someone was burning copper nearby, cloaking them, those pulses were hidden.

Most, he knew, lacked his particular… skills with bronze. Not that he was some genius talent with the metal, no more so then a Misting Seeker might be on average.

No, his ‘skill’ came from bronze being about the only metal he was allowed regular access to, often serving as something of a watchdog in the keep from his quiet, locked little room. Burning bronze all day and night, listening to the pulses, something had… shifted in him. Not an abrupt change, not a Snapping like when he’d first awakened to his Allomancy, but a gradual growth.

Pulses grew clearer. He could feel them from even further away, and like ones eyes adapting to the dark and being able to pick out movement and details more easily, the sense grew sharper.

And, when he really focused, he could pierce the copperclouds of others.

He was positive others must have acquired the same ability. Seeker Mistings surely must have done the same as him, burning constantly and often, even flaring frequently to feel for the dimmer, distant pulses. But, it was obviously rare; frequently, as long as he burned or flared his copper, Greggory hadn’t found himself detected easily.

At that moment, he flared his bronze, focusing intently for the rhythmic pulse of Allomancy.

Hm. Sure enough, he felt a few distinct thrums from the Keep before him.

Greggory’s ears reflexively perked; it wasn’t actual HEARING, of course, but physical animal instinct didn’t care much for what he was actually doing. Still, the smooth, pointed appendages twitched and angled at the building as he closed his eyes, feeling the Allomantic pulses from the Keep.

“Let’s see…” he murmured softly to himself, focusing.

The pulses were dulled in three spots; there must have been Smokers, Mistings who could burn copper solely, in the Lobos employ. But not a lot, likely just the three on duty it seemed. And, from his guess, the Allomancers must have been mainly clustered in guard patrols, masquerading as mundane guardsmen.

Yes… all three rotated in the same direction around the Keep. First, approaching Greggory’s angle from the right, was one of the Smokers, as well as… probably a Seeker and Lurcher, plus a Pewterarm. Second, a bit further, but still close enough for a distinct read, was the second Smoker, accompanied by a Tineye and Coinshot. The third Smoker had with them another Tineye, a Pewterarm, and a Coinshot; he had to guess at that group, as they were on the other side of the Keep and a bit far for even Greggory’s Savant bronze-seeking.

Inside the Keep, he felt a few more. Another Seeker on the second floor, a Tineye and some other physical Allomancer on the first. A duo of Coinshots on the third floor.

Sixteen Allomancers on the guard staff, oof. And that was assuming all of the active-duty Allomancers were actively burning their metals as he was Seeking. Quite the formidable force, if Greggory had to guess. The ones in the Keep weren’t patrolling around; probably posted in rooms to give the appearance of unguarded hallways?

Greggory frowned. That was… a lot to deal with.

Stealth really would be paramount; thankfully, if any of the Seekers that House Lobos employed were Savants with the metal like he was, none of them seemed to have reacted to his presence. The ones in the patrols kept moving along at their pace, the ones indoors didn’t shift or flare their metals. None of the Allomancers inside gave any indication that they’d already detected him scouting out the Keep.

Wait…

His eyes snapped wide, and Greggory gasped, flaring his copper and bronze simultaneously. There was someone else out here…

Another Mistborn.

They were copperclouded, whoever they were. Stable, hidden in the upper floors of a building a few blocks over. Their own bronze seemed to be flared, which Greggory’s Savant senses could just detect through their copper, but so was iron, and tin.

This other Mistborn was keeping watch. Another House Lobos Allomancer?

He gritted his teeth. Another Mistborn would be trouble, especially if they had Atium on hand and at the ready. Even without, they could be dangerous.

Greggory would have to sneak over and take them out, quickly and quietly.

He set a coin on the ledge of the building he was on, nestling it tightly into the crook between the steepled roof and the square ledge he’d been standing on. Then, he hopped out over the empty mist, and used a firm Steelpush to shove himself to the next roof.

Slowly, and quietly, he made his way to the building where this other Mistborn hid. Greggory settled his flaring; no need to potentially give himself away as he approached. For the same reason, he removed his leather belt, laden with metal coins and vials, and set it a distance away, where hopefully he could retrieve it when needed. And lastly, the feline drew one of his knives, tucking it backhand against his forearm.

He slipped in an open window, bare feet silent on the wooden floors inside. Mist spilled in through the opening, curling around his ankles as it pooled nearby. Slowly, Greggory flitted deeper inside, moving closer to the copper-dulled pulse he could feel.

The room in question had no door, but with the Mistborn inside burning tin, Greggory had to be careful of making too much noise. He peered inside, noting the hidden Allomancer crouched near another window, peering through towards the Keep.

And… not wearing a Mistcloak?

The man was a muscular pitbull, black fur broken up by pink and pale scars, which stood clear in the dark room, a mix of cuts, burns, and who knows what else. Like Greggory, he wore simple pants, shirt, and belt, but all worn and patched-together. Instead of the sturdy leather belt that the cat had left behind outside, the canine wore a cloth sash, faded blue metal lines connecting to hidden vials and coins nestled in the folds of the cloth. Broad shouldered and tall, the mystery Allomancer looked like a force to be reckoned with.

Except… he wasn’t dressed like a Nobleman. He looked more like a Skaa, judging by the worn clothing. Even the things the cat wore were of decent make, sturdy and well maintained. Which could mean…

Greggory slipped out to the threshold, held his knife up over his head, and cleared his throat.

The Mistborn in the room spun at the soft noise, holding up a sturdy wooden cudgel with jagged obsidian mounted along its length. A decent weapon to have in hand, as the pitbull turned his scarred muzzle at the mistcloak-garbed cat, eyes wide and then narrowing sharply with a deep, rumbling growl.

“You’re not,” Greggory said softly, though judging by the way the other Mistborn’s cropped canid ears twitched, he could hear him just fine, “an ally of House Lobos, are you?”

He’d said it plainly, watching as one of the canine’s ears twitched at the quiet question. The other male remained silently, narrowed eyes locked on him.

“… No,” the dog rumbled back, remaining crouched low. His own figure was more ‘anthro’ than humanoid, like Greggory, with digitigrade legs and a longer, canine neck. His long legs tensed powerfully beneath him, seeming ready to lunge or dodge at an instant.

Greggory gulped. Moment of faith time, then. “I’ve been sent to assassinate the head of House Lobos, Ariadne,” he stated simply, taking a barefoot step into the room, cautious and slow. “I hope it’s not rude to surmise that you’re a Skaa Mistborn… which does raise the question of why you seem similarly intent to break into that Keep.”

Narrowing his dark eyes, the pitbull gave another low, warning growl. Greggory stopped approaching. Then, cautiously, the dog rumbled, “There’s a safe room in the basement… stores of atium and other metals, artwork, jewelry…”

“A thief, then,” Greggory nodded, to another sharp growl. He held his paws up higher, and assured, “Calm yourself, friend, I’m a knife in the mists. I’d be a foolish man to see thievery as lower than murder.” That seemed to assuage the canine Mistborn, who relaxed a little, but didn’t stop glaring. “… I cannot give my House, but my given name is Greggory. And… I have some valuable information on hand, if you’d be open to pursuing your goals while making my own a tad easier… Both jobs, easier, really.”

The dog took that in, then blinked once in surprise. “… This… is a trick?” he asked, cautious still.

Well, he was a halfbreed. Only Nobles, officially, were supposed to have access to the lineage that granted Allomancy. For the man before him, obviously of Skaa upbringing, to have access to full Mistborn abilities, he must have been a relatively close offspring to some Noble dalliance with a Skaa. Considering how illegal that was, and how eagerly the Inquisitors hunted down half-bred Skaa, caution was likely to be a skill that this man had learned in his puphood quickly.

A rough upbringing, surely… the hairless cat tried, and failed, not to feel sympathy for the other Mistborn.

“It is not.” Greggory reached back for the folded paper, which he’d taken the time to remove from his belt and slip under the edge of his pants instead. He took it, and tossed it leisurely towards the canine.

The dog Mistborn caught the paper deftly, as expected. Keeping one eye on Greggory, who remained motionless, he opened it, reading over it. Actually reading; that almost surprised Greggory, but then, reading WAS a valuable skill for thieves, wasn’t it? After a second, the canine’s firm expression softened, and he read with some more enthusiasm, and fear.

“Damn… they have a strong force of Allomancers? I couldn’t feel anything…”

“They do,” Greggory confirmed, nodding. “Sixteen from my count, at least that were actively using Allomancy. All Mistings, five Mental and the rest Physical.”

“How…?” the dog narrowed his eyes again.

Ah, damn, right. It wasn’t written on the information he’d been given, but garnered thanks to Greggory unconventional savantism with bronze. Would the other man even believe that that was the source of his information…?

He winced. For some reason, the feline didn’t like the idea of lying after trying to be open with the other male.

“I have some skill with bronze,” Greggory finally admitted. “Greater distance, mostly, and more precision. After some observation, it let me pick out the groupings, though some are guesses.”

The pitbull relaxed, and nodded slightly. “… I am Cain,” he finally said, still seeming hesitant.

The cat nodded, slipping a paw up and lowering his hood. “It is a pleasure, Cain,” he answered, offering a slight smile. It was oddly… nice, lowering the hood and being a little bit open with another. Usually, if he crossed paths with another, they were either the brief, fearful interaction of those cubs earlier in the night, an awkward silent crossing with a fellow Mistborn prowling the rooftops, or… well, someone that he had to avoid or kill.

Cain nodded, then looked back down at the paper. He took notice of something written near one of the corners, and Greggory winced. Well, he supposed he WAS sharing; no point hiding the odd little ‘request’ from his father.

“What’s this?” the dog asked, eye brow raised as he held the paper out towards Greggory, thumb tapping on the little script.

“I’m not sure,” Greggory admitted, glancing at it.

‘After Lady Ariadne is dead,’ it read in his father’s firm, straight-edged handwriting, ‘investigate her body thoroughly for metal. Take anything you find and bring it to me. Do not fail me.’

The cat narrowed his eyes slightly at the instruction. It felt so… odd. Stealing jewelry? That seemed so below the kinds of things Quartermain would expect of him, so there had to be more to it than expected acquisition of valuables.

Greggory just… had no idea what that was. From his confused, but apparently sympathetic, expression, it seemed the pitbull Mistborn didn’t have any deeper understanding.

After some more hushed conversation, and… mostly, trying not to stare at the canine’s broad, muscular chest too much, Greggory had established a new plan for the both of them. Cain, of course, intended to descend to the basement floors of the Keep to abscond with their vault’s contents. Greggory, meanwhile, would go up to the House head’s workspace. But, entering the Keep, they would work together, at least to a degree. The bulky canine had seemed appreciative of the information on the guard patrols; though the layout of the building was easy enough to ascertain, he’d been having difficult, it seemed, acquiring too much information on defenses.

Thus, the new plan. Together, the two Mistborn would weave between the guard patrols and disable the Allomancers on the first floor together, hopefully without creating too much noise. From there, they’d separate to their respective goals, keeping quiet until…

“Heh… well, until things STOP being quiet, I suppose,” Cain had chuckled, more to himself, flashing a bit of a sharp, toothy smile.

Greggory blushed for a second, eyes lingering on that warm, dark-lipped smile on the pitbull’s face and trying not to swoon. Thankfully, the dog had had his head angled down, brown eyes looking over the diagram of the keep that he, himself, had acquired, the two having used it to plot their infiltration.

“Fair enough,” the cat nodded, heart racing.

The two exited the building, copper burning high as Greggory retrieved his leather belt and cinched it back on, before the two moved towards the Keep Lobos grounds. The approached from the front gate, staying high and clinging to the sides of a building as they watched the two guard patrols approach and start to cross one another, torches burning high and bright. The light of it made Greggory squint a bit in the dark, but he kept his focus.

Neither group was one of the Misting patrols, thankfully. So, as they started heading away from each other, mists swaying around them and blinding the mundane men and women, the two Mistborn moved.

Deftly, Cain and Greggory dropped to the road, using Steelpushes to leap over the locked gate door with a pair of coins. Landing on the other side, still silent, the cat and dog shared a nod.

They were inside Keep Lobos now, and so the true danger began.