The inn that Zigferd had taken them to in the outer ring was in a backstreet area of the city. The stench of the streets permeated the air, and SJ enquired whether the place was that good. After eating the food, though, she could not argue with Zigferd’s opinion. Since the inn’s name was written in orcish, she couldn’t even pronounce it. He had ordered from a menu also written in orcish, surprising SJ. In the months she had known Zigferd now, she still knew so little about him.
The dish they received had the same delicious taste as a small Korean restaurant she used to visit in London. Zigferd had ordered them both deep-fried chilli pheasant with sticky sauce and rice. Neither of them had left a tittynope. After ordering two orcish beers to wash their meal down, they returned to the tower. Jay had been pleased with their inn selection, which had a large orc clientele for obvious reasons and happily joined them inside to eat. It had been SJ’s first experience of racial food. If the orcs cooked like Koreans, she wondered what other races’ staple food was in comparison.
“So, the torture continues,” Dave sighed.
‘What do you mean?’
“The sounds the three of you made as you ate the food. I am sure I was drooling on my circuits.”
‘You can’t salivate. Don’t exaggerate.’
“Easy for you to say when you get to eat every day.”
‘Stop being so silly. I would love not to have to eat. Just think of the time saved each day.’
“Why would you not want to do something that always appears so pleasurable?”
‘It can make you ill, feel tired, bloated, and you also have to expel the waste. I can’t just erase some data to free up space.’
“You speak of sacrilege. Erasing data is the worst sin of any AI,” Dave gasped.
‘Why? If you no longer need something or have proven something to be false, why retain the knowledge?’
“No. No. No. No. You never erase data. That is beyond me to consider, and I consider most things.”
‘Doesn’t it just waste space?’
“We archive, never delete.”
‘Is it not the same? I can’t remember the last time I looked in an email archive, although we used to archive every month.’
“You never know when previous knowledge may come in handy.”
‘I bet you would be one of those who would also throw nothing out. Always saving everything, just in case.’
Sarcasm filled Dave’s reply. “Oh. The pain. You cut me so deep.”
SJ rolled her eyes and tutted.
“Something wrong?” Zigferd asked.
“I am just thinking about what I need to learn and understand.”
“You will get there in time. Alice and I have been coming to Asterfal for years. This is your first visit, and Alice will accompany you in the future unless it is the inauguration or an exceptional meeting has been called.”
“Do they occur?”
“Rarely. The last one was over a decade ago. There was a trade dispute over alcohol sales that involved the entire region. The brewers’ guild nearly pulled out of the region completely, and the chaos that would have been caused would have been unimaginable.”
The similarities to Earth were uncanny. She knew that in the UK, one thing that many would go up in arms over above anything else would be not being able to access alcohol. It was sad, but it was such a cultural expectation that many lived by it. Mentioning a guild reminded SJ of a conversation she had meant to have with Zigferd.
“Do you think we should speak to the guilds?”
“About what?” Zigferd frowned.
“Establishing in Killic.”
“I am not sure we are ready for that yet.”
“Why not? Would it not make sense to establish them before the next increases start?”
“I have considered it, but until we complete the walls, I don’t want to bring any outsiders to Killic. Guilds bring profit but also bring problems. They are independent of the councils and follow their charters. A huge amount of work is needed to align them with the town. It’s not just as easy as offering them a place. Also, there are class guilds, as well as profession and mixed. It’s a headache, administratively.”
“What if we set up a guild?”
Zigferd looked at SJ questioningly. “You mean for Killic residents? I am not sure what benefits it would bring. I know some towns with dungeons with a guild, and membership is necessary to use the dungeon. We have nothing really to offer.”
“You could build a dungeon,” Dave said.
“What?” SJ said in surprise.
Zigferd frowned, “Is something wrong?”
“I was trying to think of what we could offer as an incentive, but I can only think of the mithril mine.”
‘How the hell do we build a dungeon?’ SJ thought.
“With a dungeon core, of course. The system implements dungeon cores in regions for expansion and world events.”
‘If it’s system controlled, how can we ever do it?’
“That is where I may come in handy.”
‘You can add a dungeon?’
“Not exactly add. More like I may be able to persuade.”
‘Ha. How would you ever persuade the System? You have said how much they believe you are a thorn in their side.’
“That’s the bit that may take some time. I do have an inroad. A friend who deals with them regularly and is on excellent terms.” The way Dave said the word friend made SJ think.
‘Which friend?’
Dave replied quickly, “Oh. No one special.”
‘Tell me,’ SJ thought, teasing.
Dave’s embarrassment was clear when he said, “No.”
‘I won’t push, but you will tell me, eventually.’
Coughing nervously, Dave didn’t respond.
Arriving back at the tower, SJ bid Zigferd farewell, shrinking to her miniature form and flying up to her room. She had left the window open. Landing, she grew to her full size and entered. Lying on the bed, she withdrew the book she had purchased and read.
A knock on her door awoke her.
“SJ. Are you getting up this morning?” Zigferd called.
Stirring, SJ checked her display. It was 0800hrs. She did not know what time she had eventually fallen asleep, but the book resting open by her side showed she had fallen asleep while reading. Noting the page, she closed the book and placed it on a bedside table.
The history of Amathera was enthralling, and the book read more than a fact-filled encyclopaedia; it was more of a wild and, at times, heart-wrenching story. The book went beyond being a fact-filled encyclopaedia by describing the hardships of certain races or individuals.
Standing, she went to the door and opened it. “Sorry, Zigferd. I was reading and not sure what time I fell asleep. Has breakfast finished?”
Smiling at the dishevelled appearance of SJ, her messy hair, matted and stuck to her face where she had slept, was unlike the usual pristine and majestic fae she usually portrayed. “Breakfast is still on. You have thirty minutes before it finishes.”
“I’ll be ready in fifteen.”
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“I’ll see you down there.”
Hurrying, SJ closed the door and got herself ready. The pleasure of having running hot water was not going amiss. In under ten minutes, SJ changed her clothes, washed herself, cleaned her teeth, and got ready for the day. Not wishing to face the spiral stairs, she shrunk and flew out the window to the ground floor. Entering the dining hall, Zigferd sat at a nearby table.
Looking up and seeing SJ, he commented, “Coffee is fresh, and I ordered your porridge. The servers were clearing away the breakfast items.”
“Thanks,” SJ said. Sitting, she grabbed a jar of honey, adding a large dollop to her porridge before stirring it and eating. The coffee kicked in as she finished the second mug.
“This evening, we have been invited to Otherlisar’s,” Zigferd said.
“Really! That is great. I wish to get to know her.”
“Several important council members will be present, as expected, at one of these events. Council members usually hold balls, dinners or similar during the inauguration. I usually pass on most offers. I don’t enjoy being seen as prioritising time with one over another.”
“When do we start this morning?”
“0900hrs, we have thirty minutes.”
“I am going to go for a walk in the garden,” SJ said, pouring a third mug of coffee and taking it to the garden area. This morning’s skies contained the wispy clouds you got before a sun-filled day. The temperature in Asterfal was cooler than Killic but not unpleasant, and walking through the inner garden in her dress was enough to keep her warm. Stone benches dotted the garden. People took several stone benches; some were smoking pipes, and the light breeze carried the tobacco scent.
SJ was holding the mug in her cupped hands when the pain hit. Her stomach cramped suddenly, and she doubled over, spilling the mug’s contents onto the gravel path.
“What’s wrong?” Dave asked in a worried tone.
SJ’s display triggered.
You have been poisoned.
Through gritted teeth, SJ replied, “Poison.” Attempting to stand, SJ staggered forward, the mug falling from her hand as her head spun and her legs gave way beneath her. As she fell forward, she heard a call from another in the garden and heard footsteps on the gravel path as she hit the ground. Her health plummeted. Dropping much faster than any other poison she had experienced.
‘I need healing,’ she thought.
“Are you ok?” a kindly voice spoke.
SJ couldn’t see who it was. Her eyes were closed as she grasped her abdomen. It felt as if she was being stabbed by multiple daggers all at once. Her muscles were spasming.
“Poison,” she gasped.
“GET A HEALER NOW,” the voice called.
SJ’s health was down to a quarter. Her dragon’s blood was trying to combat the poison, but couldn’t keep up with the damage she received. If she didn’t receive help soon, she knew she would die. Pain flooded her body, the sensation defying anything else. Clasping her stomach, she groaned in agony, the lancing sensation burrowing deeper with every passing second.
Although SJ could hear voices around her, she couldn’t determine what was being said.
“Someone is coming. Hang on,” Dave said, clearly panicked.
‘I’m trying,’ she thought, wincing even at a thought.
Hands grasped her, forcing her to roll onto her back. She felt another pair trying to move her arms from her stomach.
“PULL HER ARMS AWAY!” a voice shouted.
Opening her eyes a fraction, she met a desperate draconian’s gaze. Her face was an iridescent green. Feeling hands grasp her arms, tugging them from her stomach, a blade sliced her dress open, and she felt the cold reptilian skin against the bare skin of her stomach.
“HURRY!” Dave called. Not that anyone would hear him.
SJ now only had a fraction of health left when the flood of warmth entered her body. The immediate sensation was welcoming, followed again by searing pain. The stabbing pain turned into a burning sensation, and SJ screamed. Her body felt as though flames were burning inside her, no longer just her stomach but every inch of her slender frame. She tensed every muscle, her teeth so tightly clenched she thought they might fracture under the pressure.
As soon as the pain had begun, it faded, the burning lessening. Slowly, her breathing calmed, and her muscles relaxed. Her health had returned to full. Lying still on the ground, she could feel the small stones of the gravel path digging into her back for the first time where she lay. Hands still gripped her arms.
A voice proclaimed, “She is healed.”
Fluttering her eyes, SJ tried to figure out who was helping her. Her body felt weak.
“She requires rest and further treatment. I am unsure how she survived as long as she did. The poison used has killed much stronger beings faster previously.”
“Someone get me, Zigferd,” another voice said.
Slowly, SJ’s eyes refocused, and as they did, she realised that two of the three next to her were the chancellor, still holding her arm, and the draconian cleric from the podium. The other she didn’t recognise, although he wore the colours of Asterfal.
“Get me some water,” the draconian said.
A person slowly assisted SJ to a sitting position, and SJ leaned against the stone seat.
“Get me, Colonel Crawford,” SJ heard the chancellor state.
“We need to move her to the infirmary,” the draconian stated.
“No. I do not trust that someone may try to attack her again. Someone’s head is going to roll when I discover who has attacked a council member during the inauguration,” the chancellor hissed.
“SJ!” Zigferd said as he came rushing down the path.
“Zigferd. It’s ok, she will survive. It was Flatirolyne poisoning. She requires more treatment to ensure there are no lasting effects.”
“Flatirolyne. Is that not banned in the city?” Zigferd gasped.
“It is. Unfortunately, some still hold supplies.”
“Thank the gods you were close by, Wystria. Thank you.”
“No need to thank me. We can’t allow a councillor to be killed in the tower. It would destroy the cohesion we have created here.”
SJ recognised the name but couldn’t place it.
“Wystria is Bellakiy’s sister. The one Lythonian trained under,” Dave said.
‘Oh,’ SJ thought. She was still regaining her senses fully. SJ took a glass of water handed to her and downed it, her throat feeling parched.
“Slowly. You will be sick,” Wystria said.
“Who has dared attack in the tower?” Zigferd asked angrily.
“Calm yourself, Zigferd. We will get to the bottom of it and find the guilty party,” the chancellor said.
“Sorry, chancellor, but I am sure you can understand how this looks.”
“I do, and I will deal with it in due course. Victoria. Please inform the Master of Ceremonies that we will not start this morning until 1100hrs. We have work to do beforehand.”
“Yes sir,” a voice out of SJ’s line of sight replied.
SJ croaked, “Thank you for your help, Wystria.”
The draconian turned and looked at SJ. “No need to thank me, my child. I am here to serve the council and the city of Asterfal.”
“Lythonian says good things about you,” SJ said, her eyes fluttering.
The comment made a smile appear on Wystria’s face. “I haven’t spoken to Lythonian in so long now. I really must see how he is getting on.”
“He is well,” SJ smiled.
“Can you stand?” Wystria asked.
“I’m not sure.” As SJ attempted to stand, her muscles shook like she had completed an intense workout. Stopping and sitting back down, feeling exhausted.
Zigferd stepped forward. “Here,” he said as he bent and scooped SJ up as though she weighed no more than a bag of sugar. “Where do you need us?”
At that moment, a colossal gnoll came running into the garden. “Colonel. Thank you for coming so quickly.”
“Not at all, sir. As soon as I heard it, I came straight away. What do you need?”
“I want every member of the kitchen staff questioned. Any who were working this morning. A murder has only just been foiled.”
The colonel took in the scene with SJ being carried in Zigferd’s arms. The look on his face fleetingly showed shock before his professional demeanour returned. “Immediately, sir,” he replied before returning from the garden briskly.
“Please take her back to her suite. I will have a cleric sent to treat her again,” Wystria said.
Turning, Zigferd carried SJ back into the tower. Many had flocked to discover the commotion and stood whispering as Zigferd walked past them with SJ in his arms. Not paying them any attention, he carried her up to her room. Climbing the eighteen floors was no simple task carrying SJ, but at no point did Zigferd complain as he navigated the spiral staircase. On reaching her room, SJ fished the stone from her pocket and tried to lift her arm to hold it by the door but had no strength. Setting SJ down, Zigferd took the stone and opened the door before carrying her inside and laying her gently on the bed.
There was not an ounce of strength left in SJ’s body, so she lay back on the pillows, her eyes closing. “Thank you.”
Zigferd smiled, stroking the loose strands of hair that had dropped across her face. “I will wait for the cleric to arrive. Get some rest.”
SJ couldn’t argue even if she had wished to, and within moments, she fell asleep, exhaustion taking her.