Chapter 3: Hands Where I Can See Them
Three days passed. Three days of figuring out how to hide a three-meter monster in a broken-down stable while the nearest neighbor was half a mile away and half blind anyway.
Gnasher turned out to be useful. Sort of.
He couldn't talk. But he understood commands. Ian pointed at a dead tree stump in the back field and said "pull it." Gnasher grabbed it with both hands, vertical mouth opening in concentration, and ripped it out of the ground like it was a weed. Roots and all. Dirt showered everywhere. Gnasher looked at Ian with those beady eyes, tongue lolling, waiting for approval.
"Good," Ian said.
Gnasher chittered happily and immediately tried to eat the stump.
"No. Drop it."
The Titan whined. Dropped the stump. Sat down on the frozen ground with a thud that shook the stable walls. He looked like a kicked puppy. A three-meter kicked puppy with no lips and a mouth full of needle teeth.
Marta watched from the kitchen window. She'd been quiet since that first night. She cooked. She cleaned. She shared Ian's bed without complaint but also without much enthusiasm. She was loyal. Not happy. The System said 87% devotion. Ian figured the other 13% was her wondering if she'd lost her damn mind.
Fair enough.
On the fourth morning, Ian put on the least stained coat he owned and walked into town.
---
The town of Greymark was a shithole.
Thirty buildings huddled around a muddy square. A blacksmith who charged too much. A tavern that watered the ale. A church where the priest was drunk by noon. And the tax office. A squat stone building with iron bars on the windows and a fat clerk named Boden who smiled like he was picturing you naked and broke.
Ian pushed open the door. A bell jingled.
Boden looked up from his ledger. His smile widened. "Lord Voss. Back so soon? I heard you had a... liquidation event. Terrible business, the crown taking your land. How can I help you? Need a loan? I know a lender. Very reasonable rates. Only thirty percent."
"I'm not here for a loan." Ian scanned the small office. In the corner, at a smaller desk covered in parchment, sat Sera.
She was maybe twenty-five. Sharp face. Brown hair pulled back so tight it looked like it hurt. Thin spectacles perched on a narrow nose. Her dress was plain gray wool, buttoned to the neck. She looked like she'd never laughed in her life. Maybe never smiled. The kind of woman who found joy in catching other people's math errors.
Value: D-Class. A step above Marta. Some education. Some position. Some pride to break.
"I'm here about my tax assessment," Ian said. "I want to review the ledgers."
Boden laughed. "Review the ledgers? Lord Voss, you don't own anything worth taxing anymore. What's to review?"
"My family paid taxes on that land for six generations. I want to see where the money went."
Sera looked up from her parchment. Her eyes flicked to Ian. Cold. Assessing. She saw a broke noble in a worn coat. Nothing threatening.
"The ledgers are public record," she said. Her voice was clipped. Precise. "You may view them for a fee of three copper marks."
Ian walked over to her desk. Leaned down. Put both hands flat on the parchment she was writing on. She froze.
"Three copper marks," he said quietly. "For paper I already paid for with my family's blood and sweat. Interesting business model."
Sera didn't flinch. "It's the Duke's model. Take it up with him."
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION:
TARGET IDENTIFIED: SERA (TAX ASSISTANT).
VALUE: D-CLASS (EDUCATED COMMONER).
PERSONALITY: RIGID. CONTROLLING. SECRETLY LONELY. HATES BEING TOUCHED.
SUGGESTION: DISRUPT HER CONTROL. FIND THE CRACK.
Ian smiled. The cold one. The one that didn't reach his eyes.
"Fine. I'll pay the three copper." He dropped the coins on her desk one at a time. Clink. Clink. Clink. "But I want to review them here. Now. And I want you to explain every single entry."
Sera's jaw tightened. "That will take hours."
"I've got nothing but time. You took my land. You can give me your afternoon."
Boden chuckled from his desk. "Sera, help the poor lord. I'm going to lunch." He heaved himself up and waddled out the door. The bell jingled again. Ian and Sera were alone.
---
Four hours later, the sun was low and Sera's hands were shaking.
Not from fear. From rage.
Ian had questioned every line. Every grain shipment. Every copper counted. He wasn't even looking for fraud. He was just wearing her down. Making her repeat herself. Leaning close when she pointed at numbers. Letting his arm brush hers. Watching her stiffen every time.
"You're doing this on purpose," she finally said.
"Doing what?"
"This. The touching. The questions. You're not stupid, Lord Voss. I've seen your family's tax history. You're broke but you're not dumb. So what is this?"
Ian leaned back in his chair. "Maybe I'm just lonely."
Sera snorted. Actually snorted. "You're not lonely. You're planning something."
"Smart woman."
"I'm not smart. I'm observant. There's a difference."
Ian tilted his head. "What else do you observe?"
Sera took off her spectacles and rubbed her eyes. Without them, she looked younger. Softer. Still sharp, but less like she wanted to stab you with a pen.
"I observe that you have no servants but you smell like bread and woodsmoke. Someone's cooking for you. A woman. Not a wife. No ring. No noble would touch you right now. So a commoner. Someone desperate. You're using her."
"Go on."
"I observe that you walked here. No horse. No carriage. You're poorer than you look. But your coat is brushed. Your hair is combed. You're trying to appear better than you are. You're hunting."
"Hunting what?"
Sera met his eyes. "Something to climb on. A ladder out of the hole you're in."
Ian didn't blink. "And what if I said you're the ladder?"
The silence stretched. Sera's fingers tightened around her spectacles.
"I'm a tax assistant. I have no power. No money. No family name. I'm a dead end, Lord Voss."
"You have access. You know who owes what. Who's vulnerable. Who's hiding assets. You know the Duke's ledgers better than the Duke does. That's power. That's the kind of power I can use."
Sera laughed. It was a bitter sound. "So you want me to betray my employer. Risk my position. For what? A broke lord's gratitude?"
Ian stood up. Walked around the desk. Stood behind her chair. He didn't touch her. Just stood close enough that she could feel his presence. The heat of him.
"For something better than this." His voice was low. Right by her ear. "You sit in this cold office and count other people's money. You go home to a rented room and eat alone. You'll do this until you're forty and then Boden will replace you with someone younger and you'll die forgotten. I'm offering you a seat at a table you didn't know existed."
TARGET EMOTIONAL STATE: ANGER. FEAR. ATTRACTION.
DEVIATION FROM EXPECTED RESPONSE. SHE'S MORE INTERESTED THAN SHE SHOWS.
PUSH HARDER. OFFER SOMETHING SHE CAN'T GET ELSEWHERE.
Sera's breath hitched. "And what table is that?"
"The one where I burn everything down and build it back with my name on top. And everyone who helped me gets a piece."
She turned in her chair. Looked up at him. Her eyes were wet but her face was hard.
"You're insane."
"Probably."
"You have nothing."
"I have a start."
"You're asking me to throw away my entire life on a maybe."
Ian reached down. Took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. Gentle. But firm. She didn't pull away.
"I'm asking you to stop being a clerk and start being a queen. Your choice."
Sera stared at him for a long moment. Then she closed her eyes. A single tear slid down her cheek.
"The ledgers," she whispered. "The Duke is skimming from the crown. Ten percent of every tax collection goes into a private account. I found it six months ago. I've been sitting on it because I didn't know what to do. If I report it, I disappear. If I don't, I'm complicit."
Ian's smile widened. "There it is. The crack."
"I'm not doing this because I love you. I don't. I think you're a cold, calculating bastard who sees people as tools."
"Accurate."
"I'm doing this because I'm tired of being afraid. And you don't seem afraid of anything."
Ian let go of her chin. "I'm afraid of plenty. I just don't let it stop me."
TARGET DEVOTION: 72% AND CLIMBING.
SHE'S RATIONALIZING. SHE'S CONVINCING HERSELF THIS IS HER CHOICE.
IT IS. BUT YOU MADE THE OPTIONS.
"Come to the manor tonight," Ian said. "Bring the ledgers. Bring yourself. We'll talk about what comes next."
Sera wiped her cheek. Nodded once. Sharp. Professional.
"Fine. But if you try anything I don't want, I'll scream and your little commoner girlfriend will hear it."
"She's not my girlfriend. She's my foundation. You're going to be my eyes. Different roles."
"How romantic."
"I never promised romance."
---
Sera arrived at the manor two hours after sundown.
Marta let her in. The two women looked at each other. Marta saw a thin, severe woman in gray wool. Sera saw a soft, pretty baker's daughter in a simple dress. Neither smiled.
"The master is in the study," Marta said. "Through the hall. First door on the left."
"Master," Sera repeated. "Charming."
She walked past Marta and found Ian sitting behind his father's old desk. A single candle burned. Shadows danced on the walls.
"Sit."
Sera sat. Placed a leather satchel on the desk. "The ledgers. Copies of the Duke's private accounts. Evidence of fraud going back three years."
Ian opened the satchel. Flipped through the pages. Numbers. Dates. Locations. Enough to destroy the Duke if it ever reached the Crown's auditors.
"This is good. This is leverage."
"It's a death sentence if the Duke finds out I took it."
"Then we make sure he doesn't."
Ian stood. Walked around the desk. Sera tensed. He didn't touch her. Just leaned against the desk in front of her.
"You gave me this. Now I give you something. A choice. Same as Marta got."
He explained the arrangement. Not the System. Not the Titans. Not yet. Just the deal. Loyalty. Protection. A place in what he was building. And her body. When he wanted it.
Sera listened. Her face gave nothing away.
"You want me to be your whore with paperwork."
"I want you to be mine. Words matter. Marta is my hands. You'll be my eyes and ears. Different functions. Same loyalty."
"And if I say no?"
"Then you walk out. Take the ledgers with you. Pretend this conversation never happened. I won't stop you. I won't hurt you. I'm a bastard, not a monster."
Sera looked at him for a long time. Then she stood. Reached up. Unbuttoned the top button of her gray dress.
"One condition."
"Name it."
"You don't lie to me. About anything. I've spent my whole life being lied to by men in power. If I'm going to spread my legs for you, I want the truth. Always."
Ian considered it. The System pinged.
WARNING: FULL HONESTY MAY COMPLICATE FUTURE CONQUESTS.
SUGGESTION: AGREE BUT BE SELECTIVE.
Shut up, Ian thought.
"Agreed," he said. "No lies. But that goes both ways."
Sera unbuttoned the second button. Then the third. Her hands were steady.
"Then let's see if you're worth betraying a Duke for."
---
CONQUEST COMPLETE.
TARGET: SERA (TAX ASSISTANT).
VALUE: D-CLASS (EDUCATED COMMONER).
DEVOTION RATING: 81% - BOUND BY DEAL.
TOKEN ACQUIRED: 1 LOW-MID GRADE SUMMONING CRYSTAL.
INITIATING TITAN MANIFESTATION...
The vibration hit again. Stronger this time. The whole manor shook.
Sera sat up in the bed, sheet clutched to her chest. "What was that?"
Ian was already pulling on his trousers. "That's the second part of the deal. The part I was going to tell you about in the morning."
He walked to the basement stairs. Marta was already there, holding a candle. Gnasher was behind her, hunched in the hallway, whining at the vibration coming from below.
"Another one?" Marta asked.
"Another one."
The obsidian room was glowing green. The fissure in the floor had widened. Steam poured out. Then a hand emerged.
This one was different from Gnasher's. It was more human. Five fingers. Proper proportions. But the skin was pale gray and the nails were black and pointed like chisels. The hand flexed. Opened. Closed. Testing the air.
The arm followed. Then the head.
The Titan pulled itself out of the fissure and stood upright. Four meters tall. Skinny. Almost skeletal. But its arms were long. Too long. Hanging past its knees. And its hands. Gods, its hands. They were huge compared to its body. Spidery fingers that looked like they could wrap around a man's skull and crush it like an egg.
Its face was smooth. Featureless except for two small black eyes and a thin slit of a mouth. No nose. No ears. Just smooth gray skin stretched over a long skull.
TITAN SUMMONED: "GRIP" CLASS.
HEIGHT: 4.1 METERS.
WEIGHT: APPROXIMATELY 500 KILOGRAMS.
SPECIAL TRAIT: PRECISION MANIPULATION. CAN CRUSH STEEL OR PICK A LOCK WITH EQUAL EASE.
PERSONALITY: SILENT. PATIENT. OBSESSED WITH TEXTURES.
QUIRK: WILL CONSTANTLY TOUCH THINGS. WALLS. FURNITURE. PEOPLE. CANNOT STOP.
The Titan immediately reached out and ran its massive fingers along the obsidian wall. Slowly. Almost reverently. A soft scraping sound filled the room.
Sera appeared at the top of the basement stairs. Wrapped in a sheet. She stared down at the four-meter gray creature stroking the wall like it was silk.
"Lord Voss," she said slowly. "What the fuck is that."
Ian looked up at her. Grinned. A real grin. Maybe the first real one in years.
"That's your dowry. His name is Grip. He likes textures. And he's going to help us rob the Duke blind."
Grip turned his smooth face toward Sera. His long fingers stopped stroking the wall. He reached up toward her. Slowly. Curiously.
Sera screamed.
Grip flinched and pulled his hand back. He looked at Ian with those small black eyes. Somehow, despite having no features, he managed to look hurt.
"He's sensitive," Ian said. "Don't scream at him."
Marta walked down the stairs with the candle. Gnasher followed, still whining. The two Titans looked at each other. Gnasher, all twitchy and nervous and teeth. Grip, all silent and smooth and curious hands.
Grip reached out and touched Gnasher's face.
Gnasher bit him.
The basement erupted in chaos. Grip yanked his hand back and made a sound like steam escaping a kettle. Gnasher chittered angrily and backed into a corner. Ian stood between them, arms spread.
"Enough! Both of you! Grip, stop touching things without asking. Gnasher, stop biting your brother."
SYSTEM NOTE: TITAN HIERARCHY ESTABLISHING. SLIGHT SIBLING RIVALRY DETECTED. THIS IS NORMAL. LET THEM SORT IT OUT.
Ian rubbed his face. Two women. Two Titans. One broke manor. And a plan to blackmail a Duke.
It was going to be a long week.