It was almost impossible to get Olivin to leave his quarters after the last incident. Arinal had to remind his king many times of the promise he made to attend a charity auction for Laija. The homlin woman was one of Jonzu’s greatest painters and it was a good cause to come out for.

Olivin couldn’t present enough of a good argument to be a recluse. He accepted the day’s responsibilities and made himself look presentable in front of the mirror. The suit he wore was of the new fashion. Perhaps he could have gotten away with wearing one of his old traditional sets, but they would stand out like a sore thumb among the rest of the audience.

He inspected his reflection and noticed the way his eyes drooped a bit. He almost put some water on them to Resurge them, but stopped himself in the moment. No, not too much. He put the bottle back down and left his chambers, escorted by Arinal to the large limousine that he would be taking to tonight’s event. The museum where the event was going to be held was not too long of a drive away, so Olivin hoped he would be able to return quickly.

****

The marble pillars of the museum did well to heighten the valuable pieces stored within it. Olivin let Arinal park the car and headed into the building himself. He was surrounded by the usual bunch of folks that appeared around him when he was around one of these events. He talked with them for a while, confirming that his plans were proceeding as normal. Some of these men were good people, and Olivin hoped that the arrangements for projects he’d made with them would be able to continue smoothly.

At a certain point, he was approached by Laija herself. The dark-skinned woman was beautiful in her long dress. Even despite her age, her beauty was undeniable.

“Your majesty.” She did a little bow in front of him. “I have some business to attend to. Let’s continue our conversation another time,” Olivin replied to his followers as he waved them off. Hopefully, those men would have a nice night.

He then turned to Laija herself. “Ms. Laija. It’s a pleasure to see you. You look wonderful today.”

She took it in earnest. “Thank you, your majesty. I hope that you’re still willing to host the event?” Olivin set down his drink. “Of course. Is it soon?”

“Oh, not at all. We still have some time to prepare. I was just hoping you and I could spend some time together before hand.”

“Together? Perhaps I shouldn’t have sent the others away.”

“Oh, it’s quite alright. Talking with you personally would be much more interesting, anyhow.”

Olivin was being flirted with. He sighed in his mind. It had been long since he was last married, so perhaps it was time to start again. But he didn’t feel as though the moment had come for that. At one point, he didn’t even know if he could ever start anew, not after his first wife’s death.

****

Olivin walked alongside the caravan. It was transporting goods to a small village, so he had thought to go along with them, since Exinal and him were headed in that direction anyways. He walked in front of the carriage, always in earshot of the main carriage. A woman decided to open up her window in the middle of the ride, to which Olivin glanced at her direction.

“Are you sure you should walk the distance, warrior?” she asked him. “I’m not much of a warrior,” he responded.

“Even less reason to spend the long journey on your feet.” Before Olivin could deny the offer, Exinal came up from behind and wrapped his hand around him.

“We would love to!” he said in a cheery voice.

And so, Olivin was forced into the carriage, annoyed at how bumpy it seemed compared to simple walking. Exinal was much more talkative than him, so Olivin let him lead the conversation with the woman.

“And your name would be?” Exinal asked.

“Zavja, thank you for asking. Your friend there?”

“Olivin,” he said quietly, as he was a bit embarrassed. He opened a bit more towards Zavja after that, making the proceeding conversation a bit pleasant, even.

That’s when the carriage suddenly stopped in the middle of the road. Zavja poked her head out again so that Olivin couldn’t see it. When she came back in, she had a serious expression on her face.

“There’s a body on the road.”

“Stay inside, we’ll go take a look,” said Exinal.

Olivin gripped his blade in one hand and opened the carriage door with another. He went to inspect the body while Exinal told the rest of the merchants to stay inside. When he came close enough, Olivin noticed that the blood was somehow the wrong colour. He leaned in closer to inspect and that’s when a hand shot up from the ground to grip him.

The man wasn’t dead after all. They’d been ambushed. A knife slashed at his leg, drawing a line of blood before he was able to back away from the man. This gave him enough time to stand up and brandish his sword. Olivin raised his blade in one hand and slashed downwards, cutting him from shoulder to hip.

The man took it in stride and returned to Olivin a blast of fire strong enough to scorch his hand. A ring of light glowed around his hand as he did so. Olivin switched his sword to his other hand and brought out a small glob of water.

The man rushed Olivin to make him drop the water. He almost got close enough too, were it not for the fact that his hand was now covered in a chunk of ice. He couldn’t flex his fingers enough to remove them either. Olivin slashed at the man’s legs with his blade and watched as he fell backwards.

Olivin hesitated for a second, watching the man stumble backwards on the ground. He didn’t have enough time to finish him off, if he even wanted to. He turned away from the man to focus on the rest of his group attacking Exinal. He didn’t seem worried, weaving in between the enemies even if they were behind him.

Olivin always wondered if he had some mystical gift that allowed him to do that. He decided to help him out regardless.

Once they were done beating and tying up the bandits, Olivin looked over to Exinal. “So, what should we do with this lot?” he asked him.

“Not this time, Olivin. I leave them at your discretion,” he replied, offering him a smile. Me? How am I supposed to know?

“…We should kill them. Send a message to any other criminal that we may encounter on our path.” Exinal didn’t like his response, but before he could speak up, Zavja opened her mouth instead.

“You will not,” she stared, staring angrily at him. “If you and your friend are not willing to handle them as fellow men, I’ll be glad to take them myself.”

Olivin didn’t find any need to argue, but in the moment could feel her anger directed at him.

“It’s quite alright, Zavja. Olivin is new to these things, so I thought I would give him some experience. I wouldn’t let him go through with it, obviously,” Exinal replied.

“They tried to kill us. I don’t see why we can’t act in fair retaliation,” he asked both of them.

“Have you taken their word on that,” Zavja replied.

“The word of petty street criminals? No, I didn’t think it would be anything more than the usual dung they spit.” Zavja ignored him and walked up to the men, noting the ragged state of their clothing, the outline of their ribs showing through their clothes.

“Please, it was just for food. We would have left the weak ones alone. Weren’t going to hurt anyone,” one of them begged. He looked pathetic to Olivin, but Zavja thought otherwise.

“You hurt my guard, so I can’t take your words to heart, unfortunately. I can promise two options, however…” she then devolved into whispering which Olivin couldn’t make out. He looked away for a few moments, then watched in horror as Zavja cut open their bonds.

“You fool! Back of-“ Zavja squealed a little as Olivin grabbed her roughly with one hand. “Don’t be afraid, Olivin, I’ve already confiscated their weapons.” She held up a small bundle of knives to demonstrate and smiled at him.

The men rubbed their wrists and glared at Olivin indignantly. Zavja escaped from Olivin’s hold, walked over to them with some ink and paper, and held it out expectantly. “Sign here, once on each page for each of you, and then our partnership will have officially begun.”

Olivin couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The woman would get herself killed allowing vagrants with a penchant for thievery to work for her. What Olivin wouldn’t expect, all those years later, was that he would mourn the losses of these very men, alongside Zavja once more. He wished back then that he had warmed up to them much sooner.

****

Now that he was aware of it, Olivin was annoyed at the number of women who threw themselves at him that night. Someone had to be playing a prank on him at this rate. Not even behind the curtains of the stage could he find the seclusion that he longed for. People were walking this way and that, preparing for the actual auction itself and the pieces that were to be put on display. Olivin tried readying himself, but was interrupted every moment by someone wanting to talk to him.

Even in his room, he couldn’t be left well enough alone, what with the staff pampering him. The room he was in was quite well furnished, but Olivin could only look at himself in the mirror and what a mess he looked like. He stepped outside the room for a second in between visits and saw a small door cracked open at the end of the hallway. Peeking through, he noticed that it was the empty gallery, not in use currently.

Must be under construction, Olivin concluded. He walked through the unfinished section of the museum, admiring the artwork and gathering his thoughts. He spent a while like this, in peace, but knew that eventually he would have to return. Zavja would probably reprimand him for keeping a good thing waiting, but then again, it was always easier to do those good things when she was around.

Olivin stopped in his tracks as the unfinished section met with the main part of the museum. He made out a figure walking through a side door to leave, and was confused at the man’s exit. He seemed to be carrying a large object, which Olivin found curious. He wanted to join back to where everyone was gathered through the back, but stopped when he noticed a display he distinctly remembered still being there when he first arrived.

On a night like this? Of course, someone would. Olivin ran out.

He jumped up onto the rooftops in a single leap, grabbing the edge and pulling himself over. The other man jumped onto the next building, eyeing Olivin with the painting in his hand. Olivin’s hand glowed for a second before he let it die down. Can’t use that here, might bust up the picture itself. He ran after the man instead, crossing rooftop after rooftop in a bid to catch up.

Olivin turned a corner to find that the man’s hands were now empty, but he was still running. Olivin looked around his surroundings for the painting and found it laying on the side of the entrance into the building itself. He tried grabbing it with his hand, but watched as the edge of the painting blurred when his hand passed through it.

Great, a Designer. Olivin resumed his chase, no longer being able to see the man. He might have dropped down below somewhere in order to avoid him. He decided to see the last place the man might be, dropping down into the alley below to stalk it out.

The sounds of the puddle under his feet alerted some small rats, causing them to walk away. He couldn’t make out any shapes in the dimly lit area. His hand started glowing and, in a moment, an arc of sharp wind flew out from in front of him, cutting everything in its path before stopping. Olivin shot out a few more of these arcs, slicing apart garbage and even dumpsters with their strength.

Olivin saw a small cut floating in the air, bleeding ever so slightly. He aimed his hand and pointed at the man. “You can take it off now. I know your powers,” he ordered.

The man materialized in front of him, crouching in a dimly lit corner of the alley. “Didn’t think you would deduce that so fast, your majesty.” The man’s voice was off somehow, but Olivin couldn’t place in what way. It felt forced in a certain sense.

“Where have you placed the painting. Answer, and maybe I’ll be a bit lenient with your sentence. “

“Doesn’t matter at this point.” He didn’t even bother getting up from his location. He was dressed in what appeared to be normal clothing for the event, so he must have snuck in some way or another.

“That thing you did back there, only a Designer is capable of that. Mind explaining how you accomplished it? Last I checked, those types of ganvers were extinct.”

“Don’t think I will. The less I tell, the more damage I do to you and your other friends in that posh party you were attending.”

Olivin sighed. “So, revenge, then.” He lowered his hand. “I’ll offer you this option one more time. Please, do what’s right, return the painting, and I promise I’ll find a position worthy of your talents.”

Olivin held out a hand for the man. The other man extended his forward, but at the last moment, a dark cloud burst from him, covering him and Olivin, making it impossible to see. Olivin coughed and rubbed his eyes furiously, trying to get the smoke out of them.

He didn’t even see the man’s hand glowing, but why would he? He was a goddess damned Designer; he could cloak his entire body to hide it if he so wished. Olivin cursed loudly and looked around with his blurry eyes. He jumped onto the roof again to try and find the man, but came up short as nowhere could he be found.

Olivin returned to the venue that evening, disappointed that he couldn’t even protect one measly painting from theft. Though, oddly, the man was remarkably powerful with his certain set of Wheels, so Olivin resigned to keeping a track of any criminal activity that displayed similar modus operandi. He hosted the auction with depleted spirits, trying to put on as best of a face he could that night, but always having his mind wander to what else that man could accomplish.

After he returned, he checked the location where he hid those objects one more time, angrily finding another missing that night. It had to have been the same man. The combination of a Designer, Mirage and Smokestreak, he had the perfect wheels for reconnaissance and entry. Olivin consulted his knowledge of the types of affinities one more time and realized another thing, that being the one aspect a Designer couldn’t change; their voice.