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Futuristic [ across the expanse ]

"You've been summoned by the king." The man wore expensive armor. The most recent technology clearly integrated into almost every piece of metal. He held out a letter. It was highly unusual for anyone to use physical paper nowadays. There wasn't much reason to. But planet royalty seemed to have an affinity for the unnecessary. Asteria opened the letter, reading carefully.

"I'll pack my things. Thank you."

The guard stepped into her shop. "I've been asked to escort you."

Asteria's eyes widened. Every other time she'd been summoned, she'd been trusted to find her way to the palace alone. Something was different this time. "Yes, sir." She nodded to a stool near the door of the magic shop. "Feel free to take a seat. I need to gather my things and finish some business before I leave." The guard nodded but didn't move from where he'd positioned himself in front of her door.

She swept past the curtain that separated the back of her store from the space she'd been living in. As quietly as possible, Asteria started scrambling. She shoved some clothes and toiletries into a leather bag, dumped the money she'd saved into a hidden pocket in her jacket. She carefully pulled her favorite spellbook from the bookcase, whispering words of hiding over it. As she spoke, the title disappeared from the cover of the ancient book, the words faded off the pages. She tucked it into her bag and buckled it closed.

Asteria pulled a dark, hooded cloak from her closet and secured it around her shoulders. Dark fabric carefully hid her striking white hair, long sleeves covered the runes that had been tattooed over her arms through the years. She was as hidden as she could be.

"Its time to go" The guard's voice sounded from the storefront, but Asteria was already gone, slipped out through a hidden back exit.

The crowded streets of the city could only hide her for so long. She'd have to get off-planet soon.
 
The fractured prow of the ancient and renowned star-liner Bliss Spillar jutted above the roofs like a sea creature breaching the water. Every day at sunset it cast a shadow over the better half of the city, as if to remind its inhabitants that they were only there because of it. Indeed, the city had started as a shanty town run at the base of the Bliss Spillar's wreck by its survivors, and had grown into one of the largest in this galactic sector, if not the most upstanding. It made sense that such an important fragment of history would end up home to an important organization. Here in the capital city of Calabi-Yau, that important organization was the local chapter of the Protectors' Guild.

There was always someone going somewhere around here, be it away into the stars or just to the other side of the city, and it was the Protectors' Guild's job to see them safely there. Jarell Brow was one of the last handful who hadn't departed with clients during the week, but he didn't mind too much. It was good to have some time to relax before being whisked away. He had decided to explore the city and see what was new- there was something new here every day to catch his eye.

Today, that something was a blacksmith claiming to repair items using magic harnessed form dying stars. The wood and steel and curtains of his cramped-looking shop were all covered in rune-signs; if Jarell could decipher the ancient words they spelled, he would identify multiple spells of blessing and fortune. But Jarell was not a superstitious man. If spells and magic could increase one's luck, the galaxy would be a much different place. Still, he decided no harm would come from humoring the blacksmith.

With his right shoulder armor and twenty Sun Gold in the blacksmith's custody, Jarell sat on a stump outside and began idly whittling a stick as he waited. His left shoulder armor faced the street so passersby could see the red six-pointed star emblazoned on it. Everyone knew what that red six-pointed star meant and what they could expect of him if they desired business with him.
 
The streets of Calbi-Yau seemed to always be busy. No matter the time of the day or night, people swarmed the businesses of the city. It was a well known mid-galaxy stop. The planet was a haven of vegetation and water in a star system of toxic and uninhabitable worlds. There was always someone picking up supplies or having repairs or hiring crew members. The city was made to be busy, wide streets, and open-faced businesses. It was built on loud days and bustling nights.

Today was no different. People of all types cut across Asteria's path. No one seemed to pay her mind. She wasn't the only person hiding their face. Plenty of criminals and runaways stopped here. Even those who followed all laws often wore some type of mask. Most effective armors included masks. There were no requirements that faces should be shown in the city. Asteria sidestepped a loud-talking gun salesman and slipped past someone who seemed more than interested in the man's wares.

The crowd suddenly parted. Three militants, branded with the royal crest across their helmets and chests, marched through the crowd. She pressed herself against the closest building and watched as they passed. It seemed like they were headed back the way she'd come. Back to her shop. It seemed that the only thing the city regulated was magic. The regulations had never been this strict before, but rumors had been finding their way through the school of magics that mages were disappearing. Mages who'd been contracted by the king had never returned to their homes or their stores. They had never checked in for service at the school.

In the moments after the militants passed and before the street was full of travelers once more, she spotted a six-pointed star. A plan came together. She couldn't stay here. For whatever reason, she was wanted. She wasn't welcome as a free agent on this world anymore. The mage walked across the street, winding through the groups of people who crossed her path until she stood before him.

"I need a secure and discrete passage off-planet. What is your rate?"
 
The militants always made Jarell nervous whenever they passed by. It was good that a ruling body had enforcers to uphold the laws and protect the common man, but there was such a thing as being too zealous. The Protector watched the three royal crests bob past through the crowd, expecting their owners to begin harassing the street-goers, but to his strange relief they did not. They did appear to be looking for someone, though.

And someone was looking for him. Just as he turned to accept his fresh and crack-free shoulder armor from the blacksmith, he was approached by a figure in a dark cloak who addressed him with a distinctly female voice. Her request for secure and discrete passage was straight to the point. Jarell was slightly caught off guard; he did not like to beat around the bush, but in his experience pleasantries were usually exchanged before talking business. Nonetheless, he answered- "Sixty Sun Gold for every standard hour of FTL travel." As far as Protectors' Guild rates went, the local chapter's was comparatively modest.
 
Asteria angled her body carefully away from the blacksmith. She'd commissioned a few pieces from him. The charms and protections that he placed on his work were some of the most powerful she'd come across. Not many metal workers saw the use in magic, but the power it added to the items he created was undeniable. She bit her lip and slid one hand slowly to cover the metal rune she'd sewn into the leather of her bag. It had been commissioned from this blacksmith years ago. It was a symbol that drew magical energy to its wearer. The blacksmith had been able to perfectly recreate the flowering and spiraling lines the symbol had when it was written on a spell scroll. It was complicated but it was her favorite. She'd work it since she moved to this planet, but she was sure that he would recognize her if he saw it.

"Sixty Sun..." she trailed off. Her long fingers drifted to trace the shape of the money she'd hidden through the leather of her bag. She had quite a bit, magical items were valuable to those who knew their worth. But sixty suns per hour would rack up quickly. Her mind scrambled, trying to imagine a better, perhaps a cheaper way off-planet. But she needed off now. The school of magic may help, but they were promised to serve and defend the crown. Unless she stumbled upon some unreasonably sympathetic witch or wizard, whoever found her would be forced to report her presence as a runaway. She only had until the militants started to announce that she was missing.

The magic that coursed through Asteria's veins has made her striking. Everything about her sang of the mystic arts. Her hair was stark white, bleached by the power that she channeled. Her voice was soft but seemed to be crafted for speaking the language of magic. It wouldn't be long before someone recognized her from the militant's descriptions and turned her over.

"Yes I can do that." She turned, raising her eyes for the first time during their short conversation. She looked at the clock that stood above the rest of the city. "It's 14:23. I'd like to leave now."
 
The stranger seemed nervous. Behind the visor he kept fixed on her, Jarell observed her nervous advancements toward the trinket on the blacksmith's pay counter, the way she kept her eyes downcast, heard the way her quiet voice trailed off. It was clear that she had something to hide, and there was nothing wrong with hiding things- people kept things from other people all the time, things that could make them vulnerable to harm, manipulation.

It was part of why Jarell kept his face covered. To know his face was to know him, to know about him, and that knowledge could cause a circumstance that would compromise his duties as a Protector. By covering his face, people could view him however they wanted or needed to; they would not know him and there would be nothing wrong with that. It had served him well in the past, because he was good at hiding. Something about the stranger, though, practically screamed out that she was connected in some way to the supposed magics of the galaxy. If she was trying to hide that, she was doing a poor job at it.

Jarell was taken further aback when the stranger requested they leave immediately. He appreciated quick business talks, but this was too quick. "Without a destination?" he asked as he strapped his shoulder armor back on.
 
"Yes. I need-" The mage bit the inside of her cheeks when she realized how sharp her tone was. "I'm sorry," she whispered "Destination isn't nearly as important to me as promptness." From the forner of her eye, she saw a lone militant heading in the same direction as the others. But he wasn't just feet on the ground, he wore the stripes of an officer across his shoulder. She twisted so that her body stood inbetween the millitant and the protector behind her, ensuring that the officer would only see her cloak.

Fear overtook her body. Everything seemed to slow as Asteria ran every awful outcome through her mind. She imagined the millitant officer's armoured hand clamping down on her shoulder with such clarity that for just a moment, she believed it had happened. She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath, pushing her fear away. Fear was the anthesis of her power. Nothing good could come of it.

"Please" Her voice broke, trembling. "I need to leave. Please"
 
The stranger's change of position, coupled with the passing presence of the militant officer and the stated need for expediency over destination, allowed Jarell to add further pieces to this puzzle. When completed, it revealed that she was most likely seeking to get away or escape, which was all but confirmed in her final plead. Away from the militants, most like, and he did not blame her- they were unpleasant to be around at best.

But this presented him with another conundrum. Would taking this stranger away be breaking the law, or would it simply be an upholding of the Protectors' guild creed to "deny no service and endanger no man?" In the past, his fellow Protectors had been hired by less than savory folk with little complaint from the chapter head. But considering Calabi-Yau's strict regulation on magics, and this stranger's visible connection to magics, the more fervent militants might consider aiding her a breach of the regulations.

Then again, she was visibly distressed...

Ultimately, Jarell decided to take her somewhere safe, if not immediately off-planet. The Bliss Spillar was off-limits to the militants; perhaps there they might have a slightly more in-depth discussion. Plus, that was where his ship was. "Come with me."
 
Asteria had no idea if she could trust this man. She had no idea if the protector's guild would allow him to act against the militants or if he would even be willing to ask. Even though she hadn't told the man why she wanted to leave, she could hear in his voice that he believed she was the target of the militant's search. But follow him? He could be leading her into a trap or intending to gather information from her to sell back to them. Or maybe he'd take her back to the protector's guild and hold her there until the royals offered up a reward.

But what choice did she have? It could only be minutes before the militants made their way here. They may move slower than an individual, but they weren't incompetent. "Okay." She adjusted her cloak again and tugged her sleeves down over the tattoos that crept down her wrists and onto the back of her hands. She let out a long breath in an attempt to settle her frantic nerves. Then, she followed.
 
It was a good rule of thumb that if one wanted people to get out of their way, one must walk as if angry. Jarell walked as if he was angry, taking big, purposeful strides that parted the crowd like a hot knife through butter, shoulders set forward, only looking back every so often to make sure that the stranger was still following him. It was in this way that he led her to the borderline labyrinthine passages of the Bliss Spillar wreck, home of the Protectors' Guild and his personal ship, the Pentecost.

Once within the interior hangar, nearly barren except for the Pentecost, he turned to her and aired his suspicions. "You seek to get away from the militants. They seek to bring you in because you are connected with the magics of the universe. Correct?" Once again, right to the point, just how he liked it.
 

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