Liam was in Nirvana.

You don’t really understand how much tension there is in your body until you finally relax.

Bathing was a bit of a ritual to it. The bathing-cleaning area was split into one large pool and a dozen smaller satellite ones. Each of the satellite pools was meant for cleaning different parts of the body, and though each guest was meant to bring their own soaps and scrubs, Liam was given ones by the servant as he explained what each feature was meant for.

The draxani asked whether he wished to have someone accompany and aid him in washing his back, as it was customary for bathing to be done in groups, but Liam still felt a bit overwhelmed by everything and opted for some privacy instead. Once he was properly scrubbed and rinsed, it was pool time. Liam floated in the cool water, teetering at the edge of drifting off into some contented coma. Every ounce of stress just oozed out of his body, and some part of him was vaguely aware of just how much he’d been pushing himself ever since he’d entered this world.

This was, truly, the first opportunity he’d gotten to just do nothing and think of nothing.

“I should probably get a haircut and a shave,” he made vague promises to himself. His hair had been a mess of knots for weeks, barely long enough to reach his shoulders, and definitely not comfortable. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on perspective, the beard genes hadn’t been generous on his side of the family, so he only had a slight stubble. “I guess I should shave too.”

There were many races capable of growing beards, and though volars aren’t one of them, he’d spotted a few while walking around the city. But between getting a shave and having a patchy lawn of follicles, Liam preferred the shave.

Another thing for later.

Now that he had the chance to just relax and check himself over, he’d noticed some changes. The first of which being his right arm.

There were patterns emerging under his skin. Like worn-off tattoos, barely visible pale blue lines swirled and twisted, forming a sleeve that reached into his palm and all the way up to his shoulder. It was a little surprising since he’d thought it would take longer for them to start forming shapes like that; it was a sign that the process was coming along smoothly.

Right now, he could only give someone a painful jolt through touch, but given another month or two, it could probably become dangerous in its own right.

Another change was that his body felt more compact. He hadn’t shrunk, he’d already been lean and thin before, but now his body felt like it was less squishy wherever he poked.

It was a novel experience.

Non-celiac gluten sensitivity was the main culprit out of a list of suspects for a frail childhood. Liam had spent a lot of time indoors, trapped by a lack of energy and constant knee pain. By the time the condition had been diagnosed, its effects had already begun to fade out, even when the consequences of twenty years of constant random migraines, exhaustion, and pains lingered. It had robbed him of the chance of an active lifestyle, and even years after it ended, he’d never truly been able to approach normalcy when it came to his health.

Now his guests were empowering his body bit by bit. It was barely a nudge right now, a little shove in the right direction, and eventually, their actions would kill his body if nothing was done about it. Yet he felt healthier than he’d ever been.

All in all, it was good progress, and having visual confirmation of that made him happy.

Properly refreshed and squeaky clean, Liam left the pool, finding a pair of slippers and a bundle of clean clothes right next to his road-worn ones. A slight moment of panic and apprehension steeled his buzz when he realized he’d left the knife and knot-rope unattended, but it was a needless concern; a quick check confirmed everything was where he’d left it, the servants hadn’t touched anything.

Donning the pale green tunic and pants, they proved to be a little wide and baggy, but in a comfortable kind of way. It was far smoother and softer (and less scratchy) than the wool underclothes he’d been wearing since he had been part of the Barb’s crew.

Looking over the road-worn armor, Liam realized that you don’t really understand how filthy you were until you clean yourself and smell your sweaty grimy clothes.

“We will have them washed and in your quarters by your return, sir.” The draxani servant happily took the dirty clothes from him. “Is there anything else you might need?”

“Nothing much, just going to head out.” He’d put his boots back on, those would need to be cleaned some other time, but they remained the best option to walk around the city. Especially since he kept the knife hidden in them.

“Certainly, would you wish for a guard escort?”

That did not feel like a good idea. As much as he appreciated the Amil’s generosity, there was no way Liam would feel comfortable walking around with soldiers shadowing him. “No need, though I am thankful for the offer.”

“Of course.” The draxani led him towards the estate’s entrance, then handed him a silver plaque the size of a credit-card folded in half lengthwise. The polished piece of metal had the image of a beak chomping on a geometrical flower, with a ruby at its center. “This is proof of hospitality of the Amil. Anything you might need in the city from local commerce, you may use this as a form of payment instead. You can also show this to the guards to ask for aid if trouble arises.”

“This feels like it might be too much?” He hesitated, looking at the piece and wondering how much it was worth.

“It is customary for guests to have one, and you are meant to return it once you no longer have a use for it, or when the Amil asks for its return.” The servant paused, caressing his necklace for a moment. “But if you do feel uncomfortable, then we can just tally your expenses to discount them from the sum you are to receive from the Amil.”

“Ok, yeah, that’s more reasonable.” Liam chuckled a little as he took the token. “By the way, what’s your name?”

“I am called Grauch, sir.”

He chewed on the word for a moment. “Is that a Trovan name? It’s a long way from home.” They were characterized for being far more guttural in nature, as it was a nation mostly made up of draxanis, and they didn’t have lips that were as flexible as human’s.

Grauch’s whip-like tail gave a slight wag. “It is, a customary Trovan name, sir. But I am not from that queendom as my matron crossed the Three Deserts before my hatching.”

“That sounds like a story worth hearing.”

“Perhaps another time?” Grauch’s voice held a cordial tone, as if leaving the promise to hang in the air in perpetuity.

With everything in order, and having said his goodbyes, Liam set off back to the city. Though without any specific destination in mind, he was rather confident he wouldn’t be able to find either Bunny or Imani on his own anyway. But he did have an important pit-stop to make along the way; he just needed to find a secluded enough spot.

There was no rush in his step as he took in the sights and smells. The main streets were packed with busy people working on stands, wagons, and decorations. It held an expectant festive tone. The majority of the population were volar, with near-fish appearances, though without the smell, while dwarves, elves, and dark elves made up most of the rest (the main difference between an elf and a dark elf being that the latter had black sclera and differently shaped ears. There had been a whole Age worth of racial wars over it, most of it now long forgotten).

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Though he knew it wasn’t the case, a tiny part of him couldn’t help but feel like he was in a very immersive renaissance fair with an astronomically high budget for the costumes.

It was an odd sight, but one he found himself enjoying. The last time he’d been in a crowded place he’d been—

Liam tapped his pockets, just to make sure he hadn’t been robbed while he wasn’t paying attention. Everything was where it should be, so he proceeded through the city with his hands a little more protective than before, grasping the few items of importance that weren’t tucked away safely into his boots.

Doeta had a peculiarity about it in that the fancier part was on the western side, hugging the wall that was the taller half of the beak. Seeing how the main road twisted to go through that area rather than towards the geographical center of the city, Liam had to assume there was some history involved. Whatever the case, it made his job easier, as he easily identified three temples on that side of the city (one for the Weaver, another for the Warrior, and the third for the Sentinel), meaning that it was an area he should steer clear of.

Walking through ever more convoluted streets and feeling like he would’ve been lost more than once if not for the geographical markers literally hanging overhead, he eventually found a nice and quiet corner tucked away from any activity or attention.

“Wolf,” he whispered the word in English since he couldn’t establish a telepathic link from his end.

The whole situation with the Amil had left him confused and off balance, and he wanted to confirm if things were as they ought to be.

A moment of quiet, and there was the faint prickle in his thoughts, like he’d tried imagining how spicy food would taste if he sprinkled it directly into his brain. It wasn’t uncomfortable directly, but it made its presence hard to ignore.

“You were followed by a few thieves here and there,” Wolf said into his mind. Their plan had been for the hunter aspect to shadow him closely while keeping radio silence. With the certainty that Thalgrim was keeping track of them, they wanted to minimize risks. “They didn’t push, there were easier marks, which you should not take as a compliment.”

“Gee, thanks.” With a sigh, he glanced around, if just to confirm he was still alone. “This thing with the Amil…”

“Bunny has received instructions to find the leonid and inform her to wait for you at the main plaza.” She took a brief pause. “You are doing well. Even if being the Amil’s guest was not part of the plan, Origin thinks it is a good development. Also, Bunny will not be approaching the Amil’s abode.”

“What?” He wanted to complain; their goal had been to leave the leonid with plausible deniability. A rabbit-shaped-monster was one thing, but if Bunny went and talked? That meant Imani would become more of a liability. Did that mean Maridah thought the mercenary could be trusted?

“She is not made for stealth; she can hide well enough, but it is too risky. She could be found out by either the Amil herself or—”

“Not that.” He paced back and forth in the empty alleyway. “Are we fully trusting Imani now? What do you mean that Origin thinks this is a good development? I’m going to be under some severe scrutiny.”

“Plans change, and Origin deems the developments on your end more important. To take advantage of it, the leonid needs to be trusted a bit more than originally intended.” She sent the mental equivalent of a shrug his way. “Just keep her in the dark about details outside the scope of her tasks. If she demonstrates that the trust is earned, we can adjust and reward her accordingly.”

“And the Amil? She’s the tax collector in a small fortress city. Why does Origin think she’s an important contact?”

“The human woman is a fourth-circle mage and has clear sympathy for divination magic; befriending her could prove fruitful for our cause.”

That gave Liam pause for thought.

A first-circle mage was the basic package, the “I graduated” freshly baked spell-slinger. If Liam were to translate it to the education system of his world, a first-circle mage would be a bit below getting a doctorate, while a second-circle mage would be someone who’d been a doctor for a couple of years already. Just being a mage at all was an impressive feat in its own right, hence why the title was one that held such a level of prestige. If a mage didn’t double down in the field, then they could be expected to end up living most of their lives as a second-circle mage, maybe even reaching third circle by the time they were old enough to retire.

There was one concerning aspect, however. Fourth-circle mages were the equivalent of getting five doctorates under your belt, each in a completely different field. Even with how large the Caliphate was, there shouldn’t be more than a hundred fourth-circle mages within its borders. Each one of them was important in their own right.

“You’re absolutely certain she’s a fourth circle?” He frowned, gnawing on his thumb.

“The level of fine control she showed was equivalent to what had been considered to be fourth-circle when Origin was part of the pantheon.”

Maybe it was just that the metrics had changed over the various Ages? But even if it meant Aisha was actually a third-circle mage, the name should have rung a bell. Umira was a third-circle mage and he’d been able to pick out her name out of the long list of characters within this Age, within this very specific time period. Had Aisha been just a one-off name thrown out the window for the sake of bloating the list? He didn’t like to think that it was the case, but it didn’t feel like there was a reasonable alternative aside from just not being able to remember.

Maybe the reason why he didn’t remember her was that she wouldn’t survive for long once shit hit the fan. Or maybe he was starting to forget now that he’d spent over a month away from all the documentation.

Liam was not going to enjoy gnawing on that uncertainty. Maybe his first goal once things settled should be to seek out ways to get a perfect memory. Until then, better safe than sorry. “Could you ask Bunny to gather some intelligence on the Amil and the Emir?”

“She will deal with that... however, she can. Is something wrong?”

“Not unless you detected ill intent from her?”

Wolf chuckled, a rumbling snarl of a laugh that bounced inside his head. “I would say that what I picked up had no violent intentions.”

He bristled a little. “What do you mean?”

“Origin wants to inform you that she is making good progress on that project you’re not supposed to know anything about.” Wolf dodged the question and made no attempt to hide it.

Liam growled but didn’t push it, certain Wolf would sooner cut off than give him answers. Well, whatever, he’d just have to figure things out on his own. “Does this mean we’ve tossed out the part of the plan involving the Emir? Am I just left with the hiring part?”

“Liam, you know Origin’s goals, she trusts you can improvise something if an opportunity arises, but doesn’t consider risks for you pushing things to be worth the potential gains.” Her tone softened a little, the conversational equivalent of a pat on the back. “Just consider you have some more free time now. You said you’re not Origin’s follower, right? Then as her tiny mortal friend, you can enjoy yourself.”

She had a point, but he’d promised he’d lend a hand, and he didn’t enjoy leaving things half-assed. “Does she at least have anything about the Amil aside from just ‘befriending her’?”

“Actually, yes,” she said. “She insists that you should be yourself, but that you should be careful not to end up being the one hunted.” She added with an amused chuckle.

The link cut off, and he glared at empty space for several minutes, trying to piece together what she’d meant.

A hunt, but with no violence?

Maybe Maridah was aiming to incorporate an aspect so she could turn into the Goddess of Riddles.