1. New Student Orientation

For Zix, finding clients was always a game of subtlety. A professor’s mistress who wanted to be seen with a "respectable" partner in public. A young noble who had bragged about a betrothed that didn’t exist. A student who needed to appear at two places at once. These were the sorts of problems Zix could solve, for a price. But finding those in need of his services required an inside man, someone who knew which doors to knock on.

It wasn’t until now, as he considered his own need for connections, that he realized that Dorian, having just received a job offer at the administration and joined The Society of Subtle Truths, might be the perfect solution to that particular problem. He was a man who knocked on many doors.

Perhaps they should discuss terms?

On later, while Zix contemplated seeking out a pact-mate for the sake of easing the job networking, it realised that there was another problem the pact could help with. And so it rushed to the workshop, and knocked on the door before opening it.

"Uh, Marlena, hi. May I come in? I know I made a bad impression back at the gnome and the chair incident, but maybe I could display more humility this time. If I may, could I ask for a favour, and perhaps an opportunity? You see, in our travels, Dorian and I encountered a rather interesting piece of artisanry and enchantment, a puzzle box meant to store something secret. Back then we joined our fortunes to buy it from a remote companion on the road, with the intent of seeking out a solution to this puzzle once we got to Misthaven. Perhaps you would have both the interest and the inclination to examine it, and unravel the mystery?"

The workshop is buzzing with activity as Marlena steps inside, The Decayer resting in her hands. Fennick Blazewright, a senior student at the Chronicle Hall, peers over the rim of his soot-covered goggles, a spark of curiosity in his eyes.

"You’ve got something to show us, I take it?" he asks, gesturing to the testing range.

Marlena nods, stepping forward. The Crucible members gather around, some skeptical, others intrigued.

She takes a steadying breath and levels The Decayer at the reinforced target across the room. With a pull of the trigger, the modified runes ignite, sending a precise, decay-infused shot through the air. The target withers instantly, the decay spreading in controlled fractals rather than an unpredictable explosion.

Drek Ironvein, second year student at the Elemental Academy, grins. "I can think of a few combat applications for that. You ever consider making something armor-piercing?"

Before Marlena can answer, Blazewright claps his hands together. "A remarkable prototype! Stable, practical, and inventive. Congratulations, Marlena—you’ve earned your place in The Arcane Crucible."

The room erupts into cheers and claps. Marlena beams, gripping The Decayer proudly. She’s in.

The next day, Zix shows Marlena the Pandora's Box.

She soon discovers that this is not just a simple trick or an ordinary incantation. It resists everything she throws at it, as if it were specifically protected from tampering. Marlena will need more information. If she can study similar artifacts or trace their origin, she may be able to uncover the method behind them. The Biblioplex should have something. If not, well… you might need an expert.

You'll probably be able to do more after a few classes.

While a man who prides himself on his playboy, don't really care attitude, in truth he had an innate knack for numbers. Given his father's legendary mercantile empire, he'd have to have been born without any senses at all to not pick up more than most usurers learn in a lifetime. It would be worth Evryquil's excessive diligence to gain access to Mirthwhistle's political accumen.

He gladly accepts.

---

As to Pandora's Box, Dorian accepts Zix's lead in the matter, and doesn't bother trying to be a part of that. To Zix he says, "Take the lead on that my friend. Let me know if she's able to assist in any way."
He definitely pursues an application to The Society of Subtle Truths - this is exactly the sort of thing he wants to be a part of. To him, that sort of thing is most fashionable.

Marlena's Schedule

Zix returned to Dorian, a bit disappointed, but still hopeful.

"I've talked to Marlena, and she seems to have some ideas about how to approach the box, but unfortunately this will take a lot of time. No instant answers for us. But at least the first step seems to inspire optimism. Meanwhile, I have another endeavour that I'd like to discuss.

You have seen me improvise substitution for another, perhaps fictional, acquaintance of yours. Though by the end you seemed not entirely happy with what you saw, there are many people who would deem such a level of performance sufficient for their needs. Needs that may be rather varied, and may be questionable yet not outright illegal: having a rival-like figure spotted doing something unsavoury (even though the identity is never confirmed for sure), experiencing one last (or not so last) visit from a long-dead lover, and of course having a lookalike go to a boring, uneventful social commitment to free up time for something more exciting.

You seem to already know many people who might enjoy such services. Would you perhaps also enjoy pointing them in the right direction, for a symbolic finder's fee?"

Dorian listens to the long speech from Zix, uncertain where it's going until nearly the end. "You see to the heart of it. Your skills, if they are truly available for hire, will aid me in finding my way into the dark underbelly of Misthaven. It seems for all my misadventures, I've not yet learned to stay in the light. But, as you say, not everything is as it seems."

He steps forward and says softly, "These people will not care for they lives and futures of a few students in pursuit of their wicked goals."

Zix's face looks slightly confused. "Now I'm not sure whether I am conveying myself clearly each time we talk . . . But yes, my skills are out for hire. That being said, you are making this sound darker than it usually is. Most clients are people such as lazy nobles who would rather skip on a boring social obligation, or wealthy merchants wanting me to take on the shoes of the One That Got Away for one evening. Wicked schemers in pursuit of future-threatening goals are relatively rare among them, and usually are mired in rivalries with their own alikes.

But the question is, would you be able and willing to use your already quickly growing web of contacts here act as intermediary, helping to get the clients in touch with the service-provider?"

"I agree, fair Zix. I only mean that being an intermediary to find clients for your skills will assist my own quest for more contacts."

"Ah, thank you. In that case, next time I'm in posssession of a bottle of wine, I'll drink to our fruitful cooperation."