“Hey, what was that all about?” One of the people waiting asked. “We heard fighting in there.”

“Let’s just say, you might be waiting for a bit longer,” Jonathan replied, smiling. Before the man could say anything, Jonathan was off, heading towards the next of the well off businesses.

The nearest one seemed to be some sort of tailor’s establishment, and Jonathan noted that there was a line in front of this place too. As to why people would be looking for clothes in the middle of a monster wave, he could not tell. He quickly shouldered past the people, and entered the shop. Somebody called after him in outrage, but he ignored it. The front part of the shop was quite nice, with rows of clothing racks and shelves filled with hats and other accessories. A young woman sat behind a desk at the end of the room, tallying up something on a piece of paper. Jonathan walked over to the girl, and cleared his throat.

“Is your boss in?” He asked, ready to barge past if necessary.

“The mistress is here today. Do you have an appointment with her?”

“No, but I have something important to tell her. I was sent by the mayor himself.” The woman frowned at this, but she still nodded.

“The mistress and the mayor aren't exactly on the best of terms at the moment. None of the prominent crafters are. You can still see her though.”

“Well, as long as she doesnt have any slaves, or is running some sort of racket in here, all that will happen is talk. Otherwise…”

Jonathan slid past the woman and into the back section of the shop. She gave him a look, but did not challenge him. That was good. He would not have wanted to do anything emotionally scarring to her, like he had to the cat man back at the smithy. When he had left, he had seen that man cowering in a corner, making strange noises to himself under his breath.

There was a large door behind the desk, and Jonathan knocked on it loudly. He heard feet scurrying towards the door, and it was quickly opened by an out of breath woman who was clutching a half made shirt in her hands. Jonathan walked past her and into the room, taking in its inhabitants.

There were about a dozen women and men, mostly women though, working at looms. They were in the process of creating clothes and their fingers veritably flew across their looms, the lines of cloth quickly forming, as if out of nothing. It was quite satisfying to watch, if nothing else. Jonathan studied each of them in turn, but they all seemed quite happy to be there, and they barely looked up at him.

He nodded, and entered the room fully, seeing a woman sitting behind a large table at the end of the room. She was dressed in simple enough clothing, but it sparkled in a way that was not entirely natural. The clothes seemed to draw the eye, far more so than the woman’s actual appearance, which was middling to say the least. She was middle aged, probably about fifty, and was of the human race, or at least a humanoid one. She looked up when Jonathan drew near, a bemused smile on her face.

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“Who exactly are you, sir?” She asked, sounding politely annoyed.

“That depends. Are you one of the crafters demanding the mayor to lower the taxes in the city?”

“So that old bastard put you up to this, did he? Well, did he tell you about what he actually uses that money for?” She asked, her polite demeanor gone, replaced with a tense scowl.

“He said that he used it for the betterment of the city,” Jonathan replied, intrigued.

“Lies. Utter lies! That man uses it to satisfy his addiction to memory stone, some foul drug from the Ashen Citadel. He may put a bit back into the city, but why should we pay for his addiction?”

“Memory stone? He didn’t tell me about that,” Jonathan replied, starting to doubt whether his assessment of the mayor was correct.

“Of course he didn’t. What did he offer you, money or something? You fell for it, hook line and sinker. I will not change my mind on this, not even if you try to force me.”

“I don’t expect you to. However, if I convince the mayor to stop using the money for an ill purpose would you be willing to pay adequate taxes then?”

‘If you could do that, that would be a minor miracle. I would be happy to pay for the betterment of the city. However, I doubt that many of the other crafters will. I fear that they enjoy their filthy lucre just a bit too much. Some of them even have slaves now, to better save money. A despicable practice.”

“I already dealt with one of them. So, do I have your agreement?” Jonathan asked, his face flat.

“That you do. However, I would watch out with what you say to the mayor. It is an open secret that the agents of the Ashen Citadel are quite prevalent within the city. If you start interfering with their clients, you might be in for a rough time.”

“I think I can deal with a few people,” Jonathan said, turning back towards the exit. He had achieved more than he had set out to do here,, not only having secured this woman’s support without having to resort to violence, but also finding out more about the injustices being committed in this town. Let the Ashen Citadel agents come for him. it was time for him to learn a bit more about the forces of Granath anyway. If that learning was delivered through the red haze of battle, all the better.

A few minutes later, he was back outside of the city hall, hoping that the mayor was still in. Jonathan walked up to the door, and knocked on it three times, his strikes resounding through the interior of the hall. He waited a few moments, and then knocked again, this time prompting an answer.

“I’m coming! I’m coming. Wait a moment.” The door opened, and Jonathan beheld the mayor, who had a strange silvery substance dotting his clothing. it would not have been noticeable to a normal human, but Jonathan’s senses were far sharper than what was natural.

“So, is it true then? The memory stone?” Jonathan asked, putting his foot in the door. This proved to be the right decision, as the mayor tried to slam the door. Jonathan’s foot did not budge. “I take it that it is. Well, I have come to believe that the crafters are not the only problem in this town. Why are you spending the hard earned money of the citizens on your personal enjoyment?”

“You don’t understand,” the mayor said, looking as if he were about to cry. “It is the only way out of this place for me. I need the escape that the drug offers, even if it is killing me.”

“Why is it killing you?” Jonathan asked, curious.

“How old do I look to you? Seventy, eighty? What if I told you that I was only forty years old?” Jonathan had been of the impression that the other man had been more in the vicinity of ninety years of age, but it was still just as shocking. The fact that the wrinkled, destitute wreck of a man in front of him was only about ten years older than himself was stunning. Despite that, Jonathan could feel no pity for the mayor. He had brought this upon himself with his own depredations. It was what he got for stealing from the townspeople.