Now, it’s just me, and this… city.

Can it really be called a city? Isn’t this just a town?

…On that note, what even is the difference between a city and a town? Eh, I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s just that coming from whatever-the-last-city-I-killed-last-was-named with a population of fifty thousand to a place that has… barely nine-hundred inhabitants feels a bit jarring. The houses are separated instead of formed into larger masses, the roads aren’t cobbled, and if I’m going to be honest, it comes across as though someone had grabbed a village and multiplied it a few times. It’s a big village. It doesn’t even have one of those dope fortress-walls that Acheron and the last place had.

Hmm. Maybe my standards are too high? This place is barely bigger than the village I’m from!

Well, whatever. Hmmm…

Technically speaking, my business is also with the lord, but I really don’t want Fiir-ette to be around while this is going on. So, I guess I’ll have to wait around a bit. I glance to the left and right. A few goblins are giving me stares, but nobody is attacking, and they aren’t alerting any guards. Tch. By all means, there’s a fairly good chance they’ve seen a human before. I think Moleman said at some point that there were around thirty thousand challengers in Purgatory, which sounds like way more than it really is. At least one or two of those must have been by this place during that time.

…This isn’t that remote, is it?

Even so, I think I can spot a church on the horizon. I doubt it’s one of the ones I’m looking for, but churches are still pretty interesting to look at.

With nothing better to do, I head out to conduct some tourism.

The church turns out to be for the god of will, who isn’t home at the moment. I spent a few minutes there, checking out the place, figuring out whether or not the glass sword hung as centerpiece was dope or not (it is), and then talking briefly to the church’s priest, who was unusually interested in having me visit. I think he was asking me if I was there to receive a divine mission, so I shook my head, which left him a bit crestfallen. Seeing him in such a state made me feel a bit ashamed, so, with Aetongue that really could use some work, I tried to retell how I have in fact met the god of will once. I doubt my intention got across, but he seemed impressed nonetheless.

Before I could leave, he made sure I received a little anklet of some sort made with glass beads. I didn’t have the heart to refuse him, so I accepted it, even though I can’t carry it properly. Maybe I’ll find someone who needs it more than me.

With my first bit of tourism done, I wandered the city for a while, checking out the wares on display in a small bazaar and the food options. I actually ended up doing some light trading with one of the traders, giving him one of my many pelts in return for a small flute. Since I didn’t know how to play it, he was kind enough to show me at least how to get some good noise out of it, even though I mainly got it because there was a wicked dragon engraved on the side of it. I bid farewell to him, and continue my perusing.

Purely out of curiosity, I also end up selling a pair of shoes to another salesman. I mainly did it to see if things I’ve cobbled myself are sellable. He ended up giving me five spires for it. Was I scammed? Did I scam him? No idea! Now, at least, I have something to buy things with if needed.

At this point, though, I’m starting to feel a bit of an itch to keep moving.

So, I guess, it’s time to think about the logical steps to my plan. Or, in other words…

What’s the best way to get arrested and sent to the capital without killing, maiming, disfiguring or emotionally scarring anyone?

So far, I was thinking of just showing up at the lord’s manor and hoping he recognizes me, but there’s no guarantee of that. Preferably, I’d like to avoid doing anything too… drastic. Then again, it has been, like, almost two years since I killed the emperor. Maybe they forgot about it? Live and let live?

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…Nah, unlikely. It’s their emperor we’re talking about. They’ll recognize me. At the very least, my brand should jog their memory. Yep. All I need to do is show up at the lord’s manor, which is so big you can see it across the city, and then everything will work out. It’s that simple.

Besides, it’s been a couple of hours now, so I bet Fiir-ette is done with what he was doing, meaning that the coast is clear to get arrested.

Humming to myself, I head for the manor at the center of the city. It’s pretty big, though not as big as the mayor’s estate, or any other of those manors, now that I think about it. Since I don’t want it to look like I’m trying to be arrested, I keep my shirt on, though slightly unbuttoned, so the brand is visible if you’re looking for it. Then, I slick back my hair, and head for the entrance. Ah, a pair of guards! Perfect timing. “Greeting! Me am come for—”

They turn to each other. They talk too rapidly for me to understand what they’re saying. Then, they storm up to me, say a few hurried words, and when I fail to respond to whatever it is they’re expressing, they grab me by the arms and drag me inside.

Well, uh… Mission accomplished, I guess?

Before I can really make sense of what’s going on, they’ve dragged me through the entire mansion, all the way to an office whose grandeur can only be compared to throne rooms. There’s a desk, of course, all dolled up with gold and splendor, and behind it is a goblin dressed in much the same way most judges I’ve seen are—extremely pompous. However, this guy is even more pompous than the ones I’ve met before, because he’s holding a goblet in hand, and swirling it around to fully extract the aroma of whatever’s inside. Sniff sniff. That’s…

In front of the desk, with his hat pressed against his chest and standing on both knees, is Fiir-ette. As the guards drag me inside, he unfortunately turns to me, and he looks about as unhappy and desolate as a kicked puppy.

So, I’ve made a mistake, yes, but honestly, I’m more worried about whatever’s going on in here. Fiir-ette looks like he’s about to be executed, and the judge himself looks trigger-happy enough to make it happen. I’m about to try to ask them about the details, but before I can do so, the guards press me to my knees. Then, they retreat. All without cuffing me, or putting a mancatcher around my neck. Huh. That’s…

“Greeting, hoeksak! Many luck yee of comeerrth here. Ganth littke jutt, go hee rik. Ett uns?”

My mouth opens slightly. What is he even saying? I know judges have complicated language, but I only recognized, like, a third of those words. I look to Fiir-ette for help, but he’s too nervous to look at anyone but the judge. Man, his forehead is shiny. I turn back to the judge. “Uhh… yes?”

When in a pinch, agree.

It seems to work, maybe, because the judge smiles happily, downs the wine in a single gulp, and begins writing something down on a piece of parchment. Then, he talks for a bit more, using words I can’t possibly comprehend, and after a few minutes of kneeling, he urges us both to rise. When Fiir-ette stands up, I can hear his knees click. Damn. How long did they make him kneel for? He’s clearly in pain, so it must have been quite a while. How mean.

While I consider the pros and cons of manslaughter, the judge waves for Fiir-ette to approach, which he does, staggering mildly. The judge presses the rolled-up piece of parchment, sealed with a wax stamp, into his hand. Then, reaching over, he hands him another piece of parchment, fortunately not rolled up, so we can see what it says.

Inching closer, I look over Fiir-ette’s head to see what it says.

Hmm. Ah, I see. Yep. I can’t read.

I nod deeply to show my agreement. While I’m still reeling from whatever just happened, the judge shoos us out of the office, the guards show us to the front door, and then the door closes behind us.

…What the hell just happened?

I turn to Fiir-ette. “Um. Ask.”

He looks up at me. He has the eyes of a man who has seen war.

“What go recent? What? Me am not know.”

He makes a face, somehow even deeper in despair than before. “You not listen? Fre inkhet us send to capital. Bring wine to tjeiisert.”

Ah. Huh. Wait, for real? That… works? It’s not exactly as simple and straight as I had intended, but this also works, I guess. Hmm. Yeah, alright. I point at the non-rolled-up piece of paper he’s got. “What say it?”

He shrugs. “Me am cannot lees.”

…Ah. So, that’s how it is, huh? Wow. What a pair we make.

“Bring to presshet,” he mutters, probably to himself. “He know will.”

I have no idea what that means, but when he brings me to the church of will I visited only an hour or so earlier, things make a lot more sense. There, he hands the paper to the priest, who reads it for him. The words were too complicated for me to really understand, but going by the look on Fiir-ette’s face, it wasn’t good.

Nevertheless, if it’ll bring me to the capital without having to walk there, I’m down.

Since Fiir-ette seems to know what he’s doing, I follow him as he goes around town, showing off the parchment and receiving provisions, food, various items, and eventually, best of all, a map, complete with a compass. Very good to have. We spend the rest of the evening sharing a meal at some kind of hostel, and then sleep in a barn.

Come daybreak, we head out, everything prepared except for ourselves. I can’t tell how much time this will take, but Fiir-ette is a pretty swell guy, so I won’t be in bad company. I’m not sure if the same can be said for him, but he doesn’t seem too upset to have me along for a bit longer.

And so, we head towards the capital.