"For the love of Halo, Renaissance! Will you please stop hovering?"

Ren blinked and shook their head, the words pulling them out of their thoughts abruptly.

It was a few months after the Invasion of New Phyrexia. Lady Errant, the newly-crowned inheritor of the Maestro Family, had finally turned around to acknowledge them, crossing her arms and fixing them with a cold, annoyed look. Ren swiftly became aware that they were, in fact, hovering - both literally and figuratively - a few feet behind her, following her silently as she buzzed between tasks.

"S...sorry, boss," they muttered, looking away and letting their hooves touch the floor with a soft clatter. "It's just, these new orders...are you sure you want me to-"

"Yes, I'm sure." Exasperation was starting to creep into her voice. "We've had this conversation three times already. The Maestros need to begin expanding into other planes, or we're going to get left in the dust by the other Families."

"But why does it have to be-"

"Because you're the only planeswalker we have! I know you don't like leaving the city, but we only have so many hands to go around. You're the best equipped for the job, compared to every other agent that's left."

The devil still didn't seem convinced. "Couldn't we just...send a group through the Omenpaths, instead?"

Errant groaned, turning around again with a shake of her head and a hand to her temple. "They're still too unpredictable. Plus, most of the stable ones are controlled by the Brokers and Obscura. We need someone who can come and go as they please without having to rely on official routes."

It was Ren's turn to groan, and they fidgeted with the hem of their sleeve for a moment as they decided what to say. "It's just...I just think my talents would be better served here, with the rest of the Family. Those upstarts leading the fractured groups, for example, I could-"

"They're too well protected for that and you know it." She was sifting through paperwork again as she spoke now, her eyes on the table in front of her. "If more assassinations could solve that problem, it would be over by now, believe me." She turned her head and cast them a wry smile. They could see the tiredness in her eyes. "We need to learn to adapt to this new world if we want to survive. That means we need to use every advantage we have in order to do that. You're leaving tomorrow to begin setting up an outpost on Thunder Junction, and you're taking the rest of today to prepare for the journey. Are my orders understood, Renaissance?"

They held her stare for a long few seconds, biting their tongue. Then, they gave another sigh. "Yes, my Lady," they said gruffly, turning towards the door to leave.

"Boss? Boss..!"

Ren opened one eye lazily to stare up at the dusty sky. The sun had just started to set behind them, painting the sky in stunning hues of orange and lilac. The dreamed memory lingered in their mind, delaying their response to the recruit calling for them below.

How long ago had that been now? Two years? Time moves so fast nowadays...

"Boss!!"

"Up here..."

The younger Maestro spun around in time to catch their boss descending from the roof, floating gently down until their hooves rested on the sand. The recruit bowed politely. They were young, human, and still mortal. Renaissance fixed them with an appraising look.

"What is it?" The Ambassador's voice sounded bored.

"Preparations have been made for the journey, boss. We'll leave for Omenport as soon as you're ready." They looked expectantly up at the vampire, waiting for a response.

Ren held their gaze for a couple more seconds, a slight squint to their eyes. Then, wordlessly...they reached forward and straightened the recruit's hat, then down to adjust the drape of their poncho. The new ones always wore the new clothes lopsided at first, and it made 'em stick out like sore thumbs to locals. Best to not take any chances.

"Alright, now I'm ready. Let's get this meeting over with, I'm getting sick of all this dust..." The devil spun around and began walking towards the stables, their long coat kicking up a small cloud of dust in its wake. The recruit was left to scramble after them, stumbling in the loose sand.

The summons back to the city had been unexpected, even to them. It had come from the lady Parnesse herself, her voice beaming telepathically into their head while they were eating breakfast, startling them out of their half-awake state - they were to return New Capenna at their earliest convenience, and report to lady Errant's office for new orders.

After coughing up the food they'd inhaled, thanking Xander's blood for their inability to choke, they had hurried to get themself ready before planeswalking home for the first time in months.

The meeting had been short, but illuminating. To their surprise and relief, they were told they would be staying in New Capenna for the forseeable future. There was work for them, of course - plenty of tasks had piled up that Errant and Parnesse didn't trust anyone but Ren to do properly. The idea added fresh fuel to their ego, and helped them to ignore the bitter aftertaste of their eternally-growing workload.

But...that hadn't been the only reason.

Tensions were rising between the families again, as they always were. The scramble to find footholds in the newly-open multiverse was slowly dying down, and the powers of New Capenna were finally able to focus on rebuilding their strength after the invasion. And in their weakened and fractured state, the Maestro family had been put under increased scrutiny by many across the city, including those high in the ranks of other families.

Now that Ren's outposts on other planes had become semi-independent, their bosses argued, it was both safe and necessary for them to return to the city and start building up some kind of homebase that they could operate from. Somewhere they could be better protected, close to the family in case of emergency.

That gave them reason to pause. Was the family being threatened again? The idea made their long ears pin backwards, even as they nodded in agreement to the new orders. The conversation had turned to other matters - mainly their recent meetings with the Sterling Company and the Rakdos prince - but they barely remembered it. And after they were dismissed, Ren found themself getting lost in their memories yet again, their thoughts growing scattered around concepts like home and safety...

The little imp that would someday grow into Renaissance wasn't used to feeling "safe", especially not at home. Their father had always been a cold, controlling person, and even after their mother left him, the apartment they'd once all shared seemed haunted by him in his absence, its beautiful views of Park Heights turning distant and alien. They were left, as the older sibling, to pick up the pieces on their own while caring for their younger sister, feeling responsible for shouldering at least part of the burden.

It had been even worse at their father's new apartment, deep in the lower floors of the Mezzio. Thanks to a cleverly-worded bit of legalese, he was entitled to see his children every other weekend, and both of them had dreaded the visit every time. The man had seen his children as nothing but extensions of himself, and he had tried at every opportunity to sculpt his eldest into someone just as cruel and self-serving as he was. Someone who might one day join him as one of Falco's spies, if they managed to meet his ever-rising standards.

The fact that his plotting had backfired on him so dramatically still brought them a sick sense of karmic justice to this day.

Joining the Maestros had been their first real taste of safety, but it hadn't lasted forever. Their years as a lower-ranked assassin had been spent bouncing between safehouses and family-owned lounges, sometimes even sleeping under the wings of angel statues if they were desperate. It became its own kind of safety, in their mind, leaving no footprint on the beautiful city they called home. But it had inevitably worn them down, until one day they finally slipped up and got themself killed.

Then, Ixalan. They didn't like thinking about Ixalan.

After getting back, Lord Xander had granted them a Park Heights apartment with a casualness that had made their head spin. It was the nicest place they had ever lived, by far. But it wasn't really theirs. It had barely even felt real at all.

That apartment was gone, now, collapsed with the rest of Park Heights. They hadn't even been on the plane when it happened. Another necessary sacrifice.

The idea of setting up a homebase was daunting, but Ren couldn't help but feel an ache in their chest at the thought. Their Family cared about them, wanted them close, wanted to keep them safe. That surely wasn't the only motivation, not even the main one, but it brought them comfort all the same.

Their current apartment was much less extravagant than one would expect from a high-ranking Maestro. It was in an old, nondescript complex, one full of ghosts and owned by a cephalid who didn't charge his tenants any rent. They barely ever saw their neighbors, and had only recently met their landlord - a fellow planeswalker named Vasro - despite technically living there for over a year now.

Ren preferred it this way. It was perfectly low-profile, and the lack of rent meant they could spend as much as they wanted on extra security measures - they had added multiple locks, including a magic seal on the windows that only opened at their command. They had even invested in a network of small, scarab-shaped constructs that would alert them to any intruders, even if they were away on a different plane.

One of the scarabs scuttled out of the way as Ren climbed in through the window, recognizing them and returning to its charging port near the wall. It made them smile - pets weren't exactly viable with how much they worked, but these little things filled a similar niche.

The apartment was still sparsely decorated. Interior design was pretty far from their wheelhouse, but they'd done the best they could with what they had. It was small, and a little bit empty...but it was theirs. Really, truly theirs.

They could find a new apartment if they wanted to. Somewhere more secure, more private, closer to the place lady Errant used as an office. They certainly had the money to throw around, these days. But...they didn't want that. They wanted to blend into the city again, become part of its backdrop, just another unknown face in the crowd. Just like the good old days.

The thought brought a small smile to their face. Yes...this place was perfect. Here they could be forgotten by everyone around them, if only for a little while.

Safe at last.

THUNDER JUNCTION

OVERVIEW: The first of the outposts to be established, due to easy transportation via omenpath and relative ease of maintaining anonymity. Nobody asks too many questions there, and many Capennans on the team find it easy to adapt to life in this lawless desert, once they get used to the sand and the heat. Many of the newer recruits in my employ are stationed here, as I believe it provides a good baseline experience for their work going forward.

LOCATION: A small homestead to the west of Omenport. All groups coming and going are under strict orders to magically remove their own tracks from the sand, to reduce the risk of anyone being followed. Attached farm is mostly maintained by constructs, with help from volunteers within the ranks of the team. I don't understand the appeal myself, but I've heard some agents say they find it improves morale, so I'm inclined to allow it. Food production levels are a far cry from Capenna's factories, but it's sufficient enough to provide for all mortal members of staff with minimal external supply runs needed.

STATUS: We have successfully established connections with the Sterling Company, and though allying with the group is proving to be a slow process, negotiations seem to be going smoothly. Thunder Junction's status as semi-neutral ground also allows for us to conduct meetings there that might be too dangerous to host on other planes.

INNISTRAD

OVERVIEW: The easiest outpost to establish, so far. House Voldaren was all too kind in welcoming us into their court, though I suspect the lady Olivia might simply be eager to introduce new pieces to her game. I have elected to only assign vampiric agents to this team, as I'm sure any mortals would have targets painted on their backs at all times in a place like this.

LOCATION: A castle in the Stensia region, loaned to us by the Voldaren family. Described by them as "modest", but the interior is as large and sprawling as two apartment blocks welded together. Blending in is fairly easy, as most locals already know to keep their heads down around vampires. When feeding, agents have been instructed to only kill when necessary, as increased body counts could quickly lead to backlash from nearby villages.

STATUS: Negotiations with the Voldaren family have been going well. We've exchanged much information about our planes' histories, and the subtle differences between the gifts of our bloodlines. The intricacies of courtly politics are still a bit alien to me, but there are enough similarities to Capennan family politics that I trust we'll be able to manage in the long term. As an aside, due to certain conflicts of interest, we will not be seeking alliances of any kind with the Stromkirk family.

RAVNICA

OVERVIEW: A puzzle of a plane to establish connections with, but a worthwhile one. Due to complications relating to local guild politics, we've had to lay low and scatter our forces - our family is not included under the protections of the Guildpact, and therefore has no recourse if the Azorius or any other guild discovers our operations and decides to chase us out. Therefore, our work there has been conducted with the highest degree of caution that we can manage.

LOCATION: Team is currently split between multiple different safehouses, which are all owned by either the Rakdos or Dimir guilds. Both groups have been vitally important to our operations on the plane, their agents helping ours learn to navigate the city, both physically and socially.

STATUS: So far, we have formed alliances with two of the ten guilds on the plane, both of which share many goals and ideals with the family. We are in good standing with both Rakdosi and Dimiri leadership, and plan on opening negotiations with the Orzhov guild in the near future as well.

KAMIGAWA

OVERVIEW: Establishment of this outpost is still in the planning stages, but I have reason to believe it will soon become an important focal point for our study of extraplanar histories. Due to a fortunate twist of fate, we have come into contact with a group known as the Living Historians, and they have agreed to help us restore some of the knowledge we lost during the Invasion of New Phyrexia.

LOCATION: Agents will be stationed within libraries operated by the Living Historians, living and working amongst them under the code of neutrality that the group enforces. I will be selecting a group of scholars, artists, and historians for this team, to attempt to minimize the amount of trouble we might cause while under their protection.

STATUS: Despite no physical outpost as of yet, our alliance with the Living Historians already rivals the strength of the others. Restoration work is already well underway, focusing mostly on writings and artifacts recovered from the wreckage of the Museum of Old Capenna. The group has also agreed to allow us access to their own vast stores of knowledge, which I hope might help us finally piece together the true story of the First Phyrexian Invasion.

"What do you know about the Fae, Renaissance?"

Lady Errant's cane tapped against the floor, in perfect time with her steps as she walked. Her ambassador followed close behind her, arms folded behind their back.

"...Only what I learned as a student of the Family, my Lady."

Ren thought briefly back to their training years. Once their tutors had figured out their magic came from a warlock pact, many of their lessons had been redirected towards studying their potential patrons, the Fae Courts having been one of many.

"There are five courts in total, one for each Family. I remember learning that ours is associated with the Court of...Inspiration, I believe? They're a Court of muses and face-dancers, but I didn't learn much more than that."

She nodded, a quiet hum telling them that she was satisfied with their answer.

"Inspiration is ours, correct. But it's more than just an association with them...much more, as Parnesse and I have come to learn."

They raised an eyebrow curiously. "What do you mean?"

"They're...more like our charges, in a sense. Each of the families keeps its respective Court in check as part of their pacts with the Archdemons, through the use of ancient, complex rituals. The entirety of the family participates, but only the founder truly knows the scope of the whole thing. Or, in our case...knew."

A cold knot of anxiety was starting to form in Ren's stomach. They nodded for her to continue.

"Strange things have been happening ever since Lord Xander's murder. And they've only gotten stranger since the Invasion. We...suspect last year's ritual was done incorrectly, on our part. But we're still in the dark on how exactly it works. This manuscript was written by Lord Xander to pass down the details of the ritual to my father, but, as you said...somebody tried to destroy it."

Errant came to a stop in front of a door, opened it, and motioned for Renaissance to go in first. They obeyed, their stomach twisting.

The room was small, and dimly lit. It was one of the family's private collections, usually open to none but the leaders. At the center of the back wall was a large painting, framed in gold. It might once have been a portrait, but the face was smudged beyond hope of recognition, the paint itself seemingly melting off the canvas. Ren raised an eyebrow at Errant.

"Very...interesting design choice, my Lady."

"That painting was once my favorite portrait of my father. It became...like this about a week ago." There was the barest quiver of grief to Errant's voice, but it was mostly covered by quiet rage.

A sharp intake of breath from Ren, their eyes widening. "Sir Anhelo..."

Errant nodded again, her hand tightening around the head of her cane. "This is why we called you back to New Capenna at such short notice. Once Parnesse and I have read through this journal and made copies of it, you will be the first to recieve one. Guard your name closely in the coming months, ambassador...and warn your allies in the city to do the same. I suspect we're going to need as much help as we can get in solving this."

Renaissance's face hardened as they listened, and their posture straightened. They stared at the ruined portrait of their old teacher, their gaze distant. Then, after a long pause, they nod decisively.

"...I understand, my Lady. I'll do as you ask."

Good evening,

Many thanks for reaching out to us, venerable member of House Stromkirk. I've heard much about your family, but I've been far too busy as of late, and was unable to find the time to write you a letter before now.

Unfortunately I will be unable to meet in person anytime soon, as I am currently dealing with important matters at home. (Family business, I'm sure you understand.) However, if you would be willing to meet with one or two of the agents under my command, I would be more than happy to assign them to the task instead.

Highest regards,

Renaissance of the Maestros

"Delacido once again,

Any of your representant would be acceptable. Though, we need an brief description of their appearance and name. I wouldn`t want my Falkenarth accuaintances to accidentally hurt your people.

And I advise to be more careful around which words you share with the Voldarens...

I lament the lost of your progenitor."

...Thank you for your sympathies, kind friend.

We will be in touch again once the task is assigned, but I wouldn't worry yourself too much about my agents' safety. My team is very capable of defending themselves, should the need arise.

It was the kind of silence that made Renaissance uneasy, so used were they to the busy soundscape of New Capenna. Silence meant they didn't know what was coming. It meant they couldn't hear it if someone snuck up behind them. Even something big, like a sphinx, could easily-

"Good evening, my pupil."

Renaissance nearly felt their heart start beating again. They stood up straight with a startled hiss, backing away from the bookcase they'd been crouched in front of and spinning to face the ambush. But then recognition crossed their face, and they relaxed into a relieved smile.

"Sir Epoch!"

There was, in fact, a sphinx behind them - an old one, his age showing in the wrinkles on his face and the patches of grey in his mane. His eyes, though unseeing, sparkled with a million stars as the magic in the prosthetics scanned and processed his surroundings for him. A pair of dark, owl-like wings were tucked neatly against his black-furred body. Othello Epoch smiled down at his former student, his long tail swishing in greeting.

"It is rather late at night for research, is it not? Or, perhaps, too early in the morning, by now..."

Ren blinked, then looked around frantically for a nearby clock. Sure enough, the hands showed just a few minutes past 1 in the morning. How had it gotten that late already..? Rubbing their eyes, they turned back to Othello with a shake of their head.

"H-how'd you find me here, sir?"

The old sphinx smiled, sitting back on his hind legs. "A planeswalker's aura is rather...unique, to my vision. Forgive me, my student, but I am afraid I could spot you from a mile away."

Ren found themself sighing and relaxing against the nearest wall. "Why does that not surprise me..?"

Othello gave a low, rumbling chuckle. His head turned towards the bookcase they had been perusing so his prosthetic eyes could determine what section they were in. "Researching the myths of Old Capenna, are we? A fascinating topic, to be sure, but I have to wonder what drives your newfound interest..."

Ren's expression turned grim. "...I'm looking for information about the Fae Courts. But...there's so little here. I've checked every section I could think of, but there's almost nothing..."

The sphinx hummed. "The Fae...I thought we ruled them out as the source of your pact magic, no?"

"No, you're correct," Ren replied with a shake of their head, "It's...a recent job from Lady Errant. I dunno how much I can say, but-"

"No need." Othello's manner had suddenly turned serious. "I have been a Maestro long enough to know when context is above my paygrade. But..." He turned towards the direction of his office, deep in thought. "I might have some books in my private collection that could help. What kind of information are you looking for?"

Hope sparked in their chest, and they looked up at him. "...Stuff about their rules. How to speak to them safely, how to protect yourself from them...how to kill them, if need be."

Othello hummed, nodding. "...Follow me." Without another word, he stood and padded off towards his office. Renaissance scrambled to their hooves, and hurried to keep up with him.

"Here you are."

The book that was placed in front of them was much smaller than they'd hoped it would be. Honestly, it looked only a bit bigger than the manuscript that had started this whole affair. It was an old, leather-bound thing, well-kept but still clearly showing its age. Ren picked it up gingerly.

"...What is it?"

"A record, written by one of the Family's previous warlocks. They had extensive dealings with the Courts, as the Ultimate Muse was the patron of their magic, and sought to uncover as many of their mysteries as they could before their demise."

Ren raised an eyebrow. "What happened to them?"

"Their name was stolen. I believe by the Court of Omission, but the details are fittingly unclear. Still, I think their insights will prove valuable to you."

They shuddered. So the name-stealing thing was true, then. "Thank you, sir Epoch. I...don't suppose I'm allowed to take this home with me?"

The sphinx snorted. "I can duplicate it for you, if you wish."

Ren smiled. "That works. Thank you again."