Flash Point
936 A.O.P.
One
MELVIN
Helia was a city of decadence and filled with all manner of pleasurable escape for the wealthy. Overlooking the Gulf of Helia, the seaside city was the escapist heart of Daijal, second only to the Daijal court as a place to see and be seen.
The buildings behind the city walls that kept out revenants were painted a riot of color, easily seen through the thick fog that rolled off the waves throughout the year. Unlike Istal, with its lasting frontier grit and military feel at times, Helia was vibrant and welcoming to those who could pay. It was less so to those who could not.
The crown jewels of the city were, of course, the casinos. Owned by rival bloodlines, the grand casinos competed for patrons everywhere in the city. Scattered between the inner defensive walls, with one or two of the oldest situated on the cliffside, their gaudy exteriors—brightly lit with colorful gas lamps—were merely a precursor for what one would find within.
The Shipwreck was one of the more well-known casinos, its namesake taken from the scaled-down clockwork-model sailing ship perched above its entrance. The mechanical ship rocked back and forth on lit-up waves, the Daijal flag on its mast fluttering in the breeze. The Shipwreck needed no barker to entice gamblers into its den, and its doors were always open to revelers around the clock.
Inside, the Shipwreck was done up in an ocean motif, with dark wood and rich blue velvet for the card and dice tables. The sconces and chandeliers were designed to look like the grasping legs of creatures from the deep. Low betting card and dice tables took up half the ground floor, with the glittering slot machines set up in the rear.
The chime of the occasional winner at a slot machine and the clanking sound of gears turning with the pull of a lever was a nonstop companion to the music pouring out of phonographs scattered throughout the space.
Waitstaff scurried between gamblers and the bar, ferrying drinks and small plates of shareable finger food to casino patrons. Smoke made the air hazy, but no one ever minded, even if getting the stench out of clothing was always a chore.
The smoke that clung to Melvin Khaur’s clothes and hair was always something he needed to wash off after leaving his family’s casinos. In his late thirties, married for over ten years, Melvin belonged to a branch of the Khaur bloodline. The connection meant his name was written down in the nobility genealogies, but he did not carry the title of lord.
He did, however, carry the title of Marshal for the Clockwork Brigade in Daijal.
Normally, Melvin and his husband, Ezra, worked out of Istal. That city was their domicile, close to the eastern border and their contacts in Haighmoor. Melvin’s position meant he knew more cogs than most in the chain of smugglers working to free debt slaves and escort them out of the country.
Melvin had held the title of Marshal for nearly two decades, guided by his uncle—the current Lord Khaur—who had held the title before him. The trips to Helia were generally used as a break to visit family, catch up on the minutiae of official business, and reassess everything else. Details concerning the Clockwork Brigade were only ever done in person, with no record of the meetings.
Which was how Melvin and Ezra ended up at the Shipwreck, making themselves available to the public at a poker table in the high-rollers parlor on the second floor of his family’s casino. A bowl of tuber chips sat half-demolished between them, and while Melvin was savoring his scotch and the decent hand of cards, Ezra had finished half his beer. Melvin’s husband still had a fondness for the stout he’d drunk growing up.
Ezra’s name hadn’t been written in the nobility genealogies until he’d married Melvin, and his introduction to high society had taken some getting used to. He was years past the point where appearing in public in expensive clothes made him uncomfortable.
Melvin eyed his husband and the cut of his suit with an appreciative look. Ezra’s blond hair was tied back in a queue, the neatly trimmed beard he’d started growing some years back a faint ginger hue. His blue eyes appeared lighter than they were in the glow of a gas lamp.
Melvin pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. “It’s nearing the top of the hour.”
Ezra took a sip of his beer and laid a card down on the table when it was his turn. “Just a little longer, and then we can head out. It’s been ages since we got to visit a casino.”
The response was said lightly, his husband giving no hint of the reason they were staying out late. The pair of them excelled at doublespeak, as any cog would if they wanted to survive and not bring down the chain.
“One more hand after this, and then we must be off, darling,” Melvin conceded.
Ezra flashed him a warm smile, no hint of worry in his eyes or voice. After all these years, they were both very good at lying. “As you say.”
Melvin won the current round by virtue of being a card shark when it came to poker and knowing how to count cards since he was a young lad. Since his family owned the Shipwreck and several other casinos—both large and small—he was in no danger of being escorted off the premises by the hired peacekeepers.
The older gentleman who had lost bid them a good night before leaving the table. A young woman took his place, dressed in a fine gown, the lacy shawl wrapped around her shoulders a burnt-orange shade. Melvin made a note of it, settling his free hand on Ezra’s thigh to give it a warning squeeze.
Their cog had arrived.
“Darlings! You didn’t tell me you were back in Helia,” Lady Sabine Garnier scolded with a friendly smile.
“We arrived earlier this week. Mother requested our presence. Apparently a cousin is getting married,” Melvin replied.
The Khaur bloodline was vast, with many different cadet branches shooting off the main tree, and it held distant ties to the Auclair bloodline in Ashion. The casinos were a lucrative business that sustained them all, as well as their efforts with the Clockwork Brigade. They had family in every major city and medium-sized town in Daijal, which meant visits were easily explained away.
The Garnier bloodline was only two generations old and barely established in Helia’s high society. Melvin and Ezra had been introduced to Sabine at a social party some years back. The more official introduction as cogs had come after by Fulcrum.
