December 10, 1912 AC

Andre Nokowski listened as the baker frantically spat words at him. "You wouldn't believe what happened Andre! I was opening the store, as I do every day, only to find six tarts and three slices of bread stolen! I've never had this happen to me before! It's a travesty I tell you!"

"And do you know who did it?" asked Andre. 

"No! And I swear, if I find the culprit, I'll be sure to skin him alive!" 

Andre nodded. The baker sighed, then said "sorry for the outburst Andre. You've always been a great listener!" 

"Thank you," said Andre with a sight nod of his head. 

The baker then turned to enter the store with his family. His son, a spitting image of his dark-haired, grey-eyed father followed him inside. Andre smiled as the duo retreated inside before stepping away from the bakery. The man's words echoed in his mind. He had heard of similar cases throughout Krakor. The owners of various stores had all been robbed during the night. They heard nothing from their living quarters upstairs and they could find no trace of the culprit. The chimeras too had failed to discern the culprit's identity. For those reasons, the bandit was named the Phantom Thief of Krakor. The Phantom Thief was the only bandit in Vryland's history who's ever remained uncaught.

And then, Andre recalled the previous night. He thought of the girl in the alleyway. She seemed like any other free gadzina, dressed in a dark coat and dark tights. And yet, her movements were shrewd, possessing a certain grace the other gadzina lacked. And she was observant. She had noticed him though he did his best to remain silent. She also knew how to hide amongst shadows. He could see the individual motes of dust in the air yet had almost missed her in the alleyway. Most of the stolen goods were from bakeries, butcher's shops, and stores selling basic essentials of life. That pattern matched a thief struggling to survive.

Could she have been the Phantom Thief? The owners were all looking for a man or perhaps a boy. They did not seem to suspect a girl. Being a gadzina, she would doubtlessly have need for such basic essentials. And yet, that still left the question of how she had evaded the chimeras. Though she wore gloves and was careful to avoid leaving evidence, she would not have been able to hide from the bloodhound chimera's nose.

The more he thought, the more he was filled with frustration. Try as he might, he could not fathom how she had done it. Reluctantly, he leapt from rooftop to rooftop on his journey back home. He travelled to the north of Krakor. The square city was easy to navigate. Its buildings were arranged in a grid-like pattern with wide roads and little alleyways connecting the roads. He ran at speeds exceeding a steam train. The wind tore at his face and whipped his scruffy brown hair around the air. His green eyes were narrowed as he focused on his footing. He did not relax until his manor was in sight.

No, he couldn't call it his manor. It was his father's and his brother's manor, not his. He leapt off the roof and landed upon the spiralling stairs that wrapped around the trunk. With each step he took, he felt painfully exposed. He relaxed a little upon reaching a wooden balcony. Around him were the leaves of the branches that held the balcony above the ground. He turned to the right and knocked on the white wooden door. It swung open to reveal his brother, Crozius Nokowski. Aside from their dark hair and light green eyes, they could not be any more different. Crozius was tall, he was average. His brother was muscular, he was a wisp. His brother looked down at him, his face twisted in a confident smirk. Andre looked up, managing only a feeble smile in reply.

"Well look who's back," Crozius declared. "It's the failure of the family. What have you come for this time? Something interesting I trust?"

"I have a hunch as to who the Phantom Thief might be," said Andre. "Given that our father is the head of the police, I think he ought to know."

"Impressive! You've actually managed a decent accomplishment! Father's in his study right now, so do make haste. Oh, and I'd be careful if I were you. He hates to be interrupted."

"I know that!" snapped Andre.

His brother glared at him. "Did you say something runt?"

"No sir!" Andre frantically replied.

He scurried past his brother, his feet sinking into the lush green rugs. He scanned his living room. It's single window gifted the rectangular room with the orange rays of the sun. The light bathed the room gold. The table in the centre and the three sofas around it all glistened as did the bookshelf on the opposite wall. To his left was a door leading to what used to be his room. It was now used as a storage room. To his right was a staircase leading to his father's bedroom, his brother's bedroom, and his father's study. A bathroom was located beside the storage room. There was no kitchen for they received their meals from the café built at the bottom of the tree.

Andre climbed the stairs to the upper corridor. It was also carpeted with green rugs and lined with brass-framed lights. He stopped at the end of the hallway and knocked on the door. He heard his father's voice say "enter!"

He pushed the door open and was met with the stern blue eyes of his father. His father, Klaudius, was a stern man with an angular face and piercing eyes. He was tall and muscular like Crozius. His voice was steady and cold. "Why have you returned Andre?"

"I have news I'd like to share," he replied.

"Very well."

"Yesterday I came across a peculiar gadzina. She seemed like a free gadzina at first glance. However, I noticed that she was stealthy and carried a certain grace that other gadzina did not. I think she may have been the Phantom Thief."

"An interesting observation," said his father, "but it's hardly conclusive. I'd have thought you'd bring me something better."

"I'm sorry sir," said Andre, his eyes sliding down to gaze upon the ground.

"You are to watch the Ofiary Trek. Do not disappoint me!"

"I won't sir!"

"You are dismissed."

Andre nodded and scurried out of his father's study. He paused before the door to the balcony. Beside it was a little table made of fine white wood. Upon it rested a clock whose white face rested upon four brass bars. Behind it were arrays of gears which gifted the hands with motion. The clanking gears were a soothing sight to his eyes. However, it was the picture beside the clock that captivated his gaze. It was a photo taken eight years ago of himself with his family. He was half the age he was now and his eyes then were filled with happiness. His brother was not so tall then and his father not so stern. But, most of all, his mother was alive. She was a small woman with eyes of soothing green and dark hair bound in a bun. She was seated in between himself and his brother. Her angular face was not unlike his own and her smile filled him with comfort.

He placed a lingering hand upon the photo, his gaze lost in the monochrome world of begone years. It was the last time his family had been truly happy. It was the last time his father's temper was kept in check. Now, his father was a monstrous force, his word law to all in the household. Crozius was the star child, a man worthy of their father's respect. He was a weakling lucky to have even been born. Once more, he gazed upon his mother's eyes. They seemed to beckon, willing him to return to their past years of happiness. He whispered "don't worry mother. I'll earn father's respect. And then, everything will go back to the way they were. Our family will be complete again. Please wait, just a little while longer."

And then, his brother opened the door. At first, Andre was surprised at this gesture of kindness. He quickly thanked his brother and stepped onto the balcony. He set his arms on the railings and observed the cityscape before him. As his eyes ran over each building and every tree, he thought of his mother. He would spend hours upon the balcony as a child with her by his side. She would recite to him stories of the city. He listened intently, his eyes wide with wonder. As he glanced to his right, he could see an image of his mother beside him. She smiled at him, her eyes gentle and her face radiant, before she faded away. Andre slumped his head. 

And then, his brother tapped him on the shoulder. Andre turned to his brother only for his face to meet a fist. The blow struck Andre in the forehead. He careened backwards, shattering the railings with his back and plummeted 20 metres below. He landed beside the café, his feet stinging from the impact. He wiped the blood away from his head, his vision blurred. When he recovered, he looked up to see his brother smirk at him from atop the balcony. 

Andre sputtered "what the hell was that for?"

"Got a problem?" asked Crozius.

Andre felt chills rippling through his body and his strength immediately faded away. There was nothing he could do. His brother was too strong for him to even contemplate fighting. He looked down and trudged away from the dwelling he once called home. He looked up upon entering an alleyway. He was met with the sight of an elderly gadzina dressed in brown rags. He was a mere husk, a skeleton barely containing life. Andre immediately averted his gaze. He looked back at the café. The little stone building was wrapped in the roots of the tree. One storey in height, it was a vibrant place with lightly-coloured walls and windows. Chairs inside and outside surrounded tables of black iron. Upon the tables were plates upon plates of fruit, pastries, cakes, steak, lobster, and other delicacies. The food was all but overflowing, drowning the table with abundance. He looked back at the gadzina. To think that sharing food with them was taboo.

No! Andre within his mind. Don't think like that! It was precisely this kind of thinking that got you cast out! Without meaning to, the fingers of his right hand clamped down upon his left arm. He felt the hard ridges of metal where flesh had once been. It was obscured beneath his grey overcoat but was all too visible to the touch of his fingers. He quickly shoved his hands into his pockets and resumed his march through the alley.

At the mouth of the alleyway, he turned directly north and leapt onto a roof. He dashed over the rooftops until he reached the northern edge of the city. He glanced behind him at the centre of the city where a towering stone building resided. The building was the parliamentary building, the seat of Vryland's government. The building was tall, seven storeys in height, with white stone walls lined with arched windows and marble pillars. Its roof was capped with a sloping green roof whose pinnacle was crowned with a dome. It was there that the five leaders of Vryland, amongst them his father, decided upon the affairs of the country. It was a building of great majesty, completely unlike the place he returned to.

His destination was another building, six storeys in height and 150 metres in length. Its walls were made of grey steel plates and a grey steel door led inside. Within it resided two airships, a new development in Vryland. They were first created in 1894 by his mentor Leslaw Kirensky. Since then, he'd improved upon the original design, which consisted of a gondola beneath a bag of gas. His airships had their bottom halves nestled between aluminum bars. The bars formed a metal skeleton beneath which slung the gondola. The airships' sides were each lined with three propellers, which could rotate to change the direction of propulsion.

Andre pushed open the hangar's door and entered the cavernous room. Above him, metal cranes crisscrossed the roof, bringing pumps that carried gas. Lights hung from the roof, raining orange on the grey stone floor. As Andre approached the nearest airship, he was approached by his childhood friend. Radek Keita was a year his junior. He was short and slight with light blue eyes and short black hair. Radek waved in greeting, his pale face stretched in a grin. His grin turned to a frown and his eyes widened in horror. Andre stiffened as Radek rushed towards him. "Andre! Are you alright!?" 

"Of course! Why wouldn't I be?" 

"Well, your head..." 

"I just got into a scuffle with my brother that's all. It's nothing to worry about. Anyways, what about you? Is all well?" 

Radek hesitated, before passing the two photographs he held to Andre. Andre examined the photographs, which depicted two rare beetles. One was a black beetle with yellow lines on its carapace. It had two large horns on its head and beady little eyes. For its appearance, bearing so much similarity to a tiger and a rhinoceros, it was called the rhiger beetle. The other beetle had a body that was almost completely flat. Its eyes were two crystalline red spots and its back a vibrant shade of green. That much, he knew, though all colour was lost the photo's grey. This beetle was called a ginkgo beetle and it gained nourishment through photosynthetic scales.

Radek declared "I took these photos myself. Fancy ain't they?"

"Yeah," said Andre.

"I've collected these specimens earlier this morning. You should check them later!"

"Yeah."

"That aside, are you alright Andre? You seem pale, even more so than usual."

"I'm fine. I've had a meeting with my father; that's all."

"What was it about?"

"A very peculiar gadzina. She moved with a grace unlike any gadzina I'd ever seen. She was also very stealthy; I had almost missed her in the alleyway. I think she may be the Phantom Thief that's been plaguing Krakor these past few years."

"Then you should catch her. I'm sure your father will accept you back into the family."

"I know," Andre mumbled. "Still, I..."

"Yes?"

"Nevermind."

Andre returned to his airship and entered the gondola. He crossed the red carpets that lined the airship's lounge. The lounge was a large room furnished with tables and chairs. The chairs were covered with light blue cloth adorned with plantlike patterns. To both sides of the lounge was a hallway. One led to the back of the gondola where the kitchen resided. That hallway was lined with bedrooms, a bathroom, and two storage rooms. The other hallway led into the cockpit.

Andre proceeded to the cockpit. It was a large room whose front boasted a sprawling aluminum panel. Upon the panel rested buttons, levers, and guages. There was a light brown wheel for steering the airship and an altimeter that measured air pressure to determine altitude. Past the panel was an array of windows, large in scale and lined with brass. At the back of the cockpit was a table fastened to the wall, upon which rested hammers, compasses, rulers, and other tools. Andre rolled up the sleeve of his overcoat to reveal his left arm. It was a mechanical thing made of aluminum and resembling the armour once worn by knights. Within its bowels were gears and springs which served to aid in movement.

However, the gears and springs alone would not have been sufficient. Thus, the innards of his mechanical arm also had threads of vines. The vines were as thin as blood vessels, yet as strong as the muscles in his other arm. They traversed the entire length of the metal shell from his fingertips to the stump of his severed limb. The vines connected with the nerves and enabled his willpower to move the arm.

The vines were beginning to wither and he exhaled upon his prosthetic limb. His breath carried swirls of green and red light and passed through the metal shell. The light contained the strength of a dozen souls and sunk into the vines. The vines were vessels, verns, for the souls to inhabit. Vernbinding involved the techniques of extracting and seeding. With extracting, he could remove the souls of other living things. With seeding, he could implant his harvested souls into a vern for his own desires. The verns though needed to be organic or else the souls would escape. Andre glanced at the picture that rested upon the table. He had drawn it himself at the age of six, the age when his mother first taught him vernbinding.

Etched in ink, his drawing depicted the five attributes souls could give. Animation enabled the raising of the dead whilst fusion combined two life forms to create a chimera. Germination altered a life form's shape whilst augmentation boosted a Vern's physical prowess. Restoration enabled the extension of one's life and was the attribute of focus for the Ofiary Day.

Vernbinding was guided by the principle of equivalence, where to seed a vern, one must extract an equal amount of soul energy from another life form. The average gadzina had perhaps thirty years of life and he could distribute those years however he saw fit. Perhaps he'd give two noble children an additional fifteen years of life, or give three children ten more years of life. That thought did little to still his heart. This was murder, there was no other word to describe it, and he was to perform the deed.