Monday, April 9th, 2009 — 2:31 p.m.
Location: Portal Axiom, Inter-Realm Crossing Bureau
Tagline: "Welcome! Please scream softly while we ignore you."
Axis.
To some, a government marvel. To others, a hellmouth with helpful signage.
Officially known as the Inter-Realm Crossing Bureau, Axis was the architectural equivalent of a migraine dressed in grey. It functioned—technically—as the hinge-point for eight Realms, the only place where beings could legally cross borders without opening a rift or bribing a Celestial transport warden with forbidden poetry and moon milk.
Unofficially?
It was bureaucracy's revenge fantasy.
Cracked crystal lighting. Flickering glamour-screens. Children sobbing. Adults sobbing harder. At least two portals were actively vomiting nausea and whispering in eldritch tongues about taxes. A third portal, marked "DO NOT LOOK DIRECTLY AT," was humming ominously and smelled faintly of ozone and generational debt.
And in Line B—specifically tickets B173 and B174—stood two very tired, very dangerous Redcaps with ancient rage and impeccable accessory coordination.
Raphael and Blood Fang.
Redcap Class A. Predator-vassal lineage. Ritual-bound to the Peverell-Grey bloodline. Official designations: Guardian-Class Companions. Unofficial designations: "Don't piss them off unless you hate your family name."
Raphael wore crimson-black ceremonial robes etched with subtle cursework and pride. His circlet bore the sigil P, gleaming cool silver. His every movement was precise no wasted energy. Like a sword trained to wait. His face was composed, elegant.
His stare could force an IRS audit.
Blood Fang, by contrast, wore chaos as couture. His jacket was more ritual binding than cloth, layered in runes that shimmered with each flex of his shoulders. His hair was braided in a style last worn by warlords during the Collapse of Realm Five. His tattoos glowed with feral approval.
His circlet pulsed faintly H-class. Hunt-sanctioned.
Together, they radiated the kind of energy that made lesser immortals look for sudden meetings and hope their family wards were in order.
And they were pissed.
They had come to Axis nineteen times.
Denied. Nineteen times.
For reasons including, but not limited to:
"Your shadow signature is too aggressive."
"The intern cried through three layers of enchanted mascara."
"You made the soul mirror develop anxiety."
"You filled out the customs form in blood."
"You killed the intern."
To which Blood Fang had once replied, "Not my fault the intern was in the way. Or that the mirror had self-esteem issues."
But today…
B173. B174. Called.
They froze.
Blood Fang bared his teeth. "It's a trap."
Raphael's hand hovered near his belt pouch. "I'm deciding where to start the fire."
Then, without fanfare, the desk screen flickered. A glowing Gringotts sigil blinked into place.
> Urgent Override — Tier One
Nightmare Court Royal Heirs: Companion Claim Activation
Effective Immediately
Cleared by: Vexmar, Executioner of Finance
Verified by: Griphook, Vault Regent
Attached Note: Let them through. Or explain yourself to the Hunt.
The air shifted.
The mood? Less "bureaucratic contempt," more "don't get murdered in front of HR."
Senior Axis Coordinator Tiffanynn yes, with three Ns.appeared behind the counter in a starched grey robe that tried and failed to be intimidating. Her eyeliner twitched. Her bun sagged. Her coffee had gone cold out of fear.
She coughed softly. "Welcome, Lord Companions," she said. "Not… not 'murdering psychopaths' this time. Swear on the Axis creed."
She dropped the stamp. Picked it up. Dropped it again. Stamped the wrong page. Stamped again for penance.
Two shimmering passports emerged from the portal node.deep indigo, leather-bound, edged in Realmsteel.
A packet slid out: Earthstay Certification Unlimited Duration. No Restrictions. Companion Class.
Then came the fees.
Except—
They were zeroed out.
> Typical Fees:
5,000 Denarii/month for Earth access
16,000 Denarii bond certification
8,000 Denarii for creature subclass clearance
> Status: Waived.
Classification: Nightmare Court Vassal — Class One Royal Clearance
Billing Destination: Vault 001 – Peverell-Grey
Notes: "LET THEM IN. Or Else."
Raphael blinked once. Blood Fang did not blink. At all.
Tiffanynn's voice lowered to a whisper. "You're approved."
A pause.
She added, with feeling: "Please don't explode anything on your way out. Unless it's Greg at front desk. We all hate Greg."
They left in silence.
The portal gate shimmered ahead light bending around the air like it feared their gaze.
Earth called.
Wind stirred.
Raphael cracked his neck. Blood Fang adjusted his gauntlet.
"So," Blood Fang said.
Raphael's smile was small. Sharp.
"Let's find our Dominus."
Then, quieter: "And maybe burn something. For tradition."
But first?
Unseelie Hot Pot.
Because even assassin-vassals of ancient courts don't skip lunch.
Their shuttle portal wasn't set to open for another two hours, which meant one last meal in the Unseelie capital.and not just any meal. Predator-tier hot pot, last taste of home before Earthside exile.
Three to two ratio of meat to vegetables. Light rice. Charred noodles. Two kinds of mac and cheese, one laced with black truffle essence and the other with actual edible shadow. A scoop of biryani blessed by a temple chef who once poisoned an entire bloodline just for seasoning critique.
They sat on ritual cushions in a booth shaped like a coiled Silasfang.
"Extra marrow broth," Raphael ordered, voice steady.
"Roasted bone slivers. And draconic dumplings," Blood Fang added.
The server, a withered fae with tattoos that read "Meat or Death," bowed and vanished.
Their food arrived via levitation tray, steaming and perfect.
They ate in silence, with reverence. Not because they were particularly spiritual but because Unseelie etiquette dictated predator-class dining should be taken seriously.
There were myths, of course.
Myths that Unseelie devoured humans.
False. Disgusting. Banned.
Humans were… messy. Stringy. Lacking in spice. The realm had long declared cannibalism beneath its ancient nobility. They drank human blood, yes. It sustained magic, enhanced Hunt communion, and carried memories useful in combat rituals. But meat? Barbaric. Boring. Honestly? Tacky.
What they craved was flavor. Texture. Vengeance-aged spice. The crunch of fried phoenix claw. The buttery bite of marinated nightmare eel. A hint of sadness in the pickled vegetables. Real predator cuisine.
Halfway through the meal, Raphael paused. "It'll be months before we taste food like this again."
Blood Fang grunted. "Unless..."
They both turned slowly to the enchanted menu board beside their table. A new rune flickered to life.
> GRUBGRINGOTTS
Multi-Realm Delivery Now Active
Real Food. Realms Away. Beautifully. Legally. Alphabetically.
They stared.
Then stared harder.
A tiny enchanted goblin chef waved at them through the display and held up a sign that read: "We even deliver to cursed strongholds!"
Blood Fang whispered, reverent: "They deliver biryani between realms?"
Raphael clutched his teacup. "I take back everything I said about goblin innovation."
They finished their meal in contemplative silence.
Their world had changed.
They would serve. They would protect.
But by the gods they would also order dinner from home.