This time, I faithfully followed the directions I got towards the closest tunnel to the gambling house, even if it was only Marty’s best guess. He’d worked there some years ago; he didn’t remember exactly how many, but he was reasonably confident he had most likely worked there at some point.

The man's words were not exactly confidence-inducing, but there was less harm in following his advice than walking into peluda-infested tunnels again.

My mana pulses returned with no information on its whereabouts, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know where the threat was or pretend it wasn’t there at all.

The walls around me changed from smooth stone to blocks of it, holding back dirt to form a crawl space. I’d been warned about the narrower section that made up the older sewers and was dreading it more now that I saw just how much. At the very least, a peluda wouldn’t be able to fit in it.

Quinten had sounded resigned to one existing below the city, or rather, that was the sentiment his mentor had expressed to him. Jeremy kept it from the duke to protect his image, meaning he knew how bad it could get but didn’t think there was a worthwhile alternative. Marty didn’t even have a complaint to make about it and simply shrugged when I told him.

So, why was I so conflicted about it being down here?

A quiet voice in the back of my mind wanted me to feel sorry for the peluda, stuck somewhere it didn’t belong after being brought up for someone else’s purpose. I scoffed and wanted to smack myself when that same voice tried comparing my childhood to that creature. I didn’t want to pity its struggles, let alone empathise.

I bunched up my skirt and got down on my hands and knees to slowly crawl along the much thinner ledge, grumbling about slimy stone and sewer designers.

Vague snippets of thoughts and feelings penetrated down through the foundations of the city, the dirt, stone, and pipes—letting me know I was getting closer. The smell was also progressively getting more putrid to the point where the scarf over my nose felt obsolete.

Climbing up buildings in front of a watch patrol was starting to feel like a better idea than this.

“Ow,” I muttered as I headbutted a metal pipe I’d misjudged the height of. It rattled across its length, and I touched it to silence the racket and guide me underneath. My head and hand agreed it was metal, but without any light, I could only say it wasn’t iron like some of the other pipes in the walls.

The rat squeaking in amusement behind me almost got himself flicked into the water, but I wasn’t a petty person. There would be better opportunities to get back at him without the added danger of drowning.

I crawled past a pipe gushing water into the channel and stopped. Mana, being able to move more easily in the open air and confined by the thick metal pipe, was carrying delayed and decayed emotions down from familiar creatures. The torrent of water calmed enough for me to think of a great idea to check if it actually connected.

Bitsy hated it and tried to escape, finding himself running while floating above the ground and being manoeuvred into the pipe’s opening.

“Two bags of seed and one basket of overripe fruit,” I said, countering his absurd request for access to the palace kitchen. He didn’t understand that I was saying no for his safety and mine if Granya ever found him in her kitchen.

His negotiation didn’t go far while he was still floating in the air, but I conceded on three bags of sunflower seeds plus the fruit after he apologised for laughing at me. Explaining why I wanted him to check if the animals were there also went a long way to bring down his ridiculous demands.

He scurried off down the pipe, the pattering of his paws reverberating back at me till he turned too many corners.

I contorted myself to get a comfortable seat on the ledge, my feet almost reaching the rushing water below. I complained about my outfit choice, not for the first time. The skirt was the top item in the knapsack Haily had packed, and it was a chilly morning that warranted a sweater.

Persuading Jeremy into another of the convenient clothing Talia had dressed me in was the best choice I’d made in a while—something I may need to find a way to speed up for my next excursion.

Marty’s warning had been insufficient, but he’d never needed to go into the crawlspace, only knowing where it led from his experience in the sewer layout compared with the surface. It was impressive since I made two turns and couldn’t figure out which direction I would be facing up top.

He’d been removed from his job at the gambling house because his table had an abnormal number of wins. Out of suspected collusion, they simply removed him from the premises and locked him out of the house he rented from the baron next door. It was so absurd and depraved that I thought he had to be lying.

I tried to get more information, but he’d switched accents and gone off on a tangent when he started talking about moving to Drasda from a small town.

A gurgling sound from the pipe distracted me, and I felt Bitsy’s panicked return. He was launched out of the pipe, tumbling through the air to the channel below. I caught him with a cushion of air, the water hitting his back and spraying onto me.

I brushed dripping strands of hair out of my eyes as I put him on solid ground.

“Two baskets?” I tried after feeling responsible for the way he clung to the stone floor for safety.

After he had some time to relax in my warm pockets, Bitsy told me what he had glimpsed before a bucket full was thrown into the drain he was watching through at the base of a wall. He wasn’t happy that my mention of caged animals hadn’t included they were giant predators. I hadn't even realised that was relevant, but I really should have.

Their teeth and size felt wildly exaggerated in his thoughts, yet if I were that small, the bulgasari’s tusks would probably seem that way.

The only doors he’d managed to see were the large iron one leading to the arena and one leading to the corridor with the entrance to the vault. Neither was new to me, and it didn’t seem this drainage pipe would make a decent entrance unless I spent ages making it one.

Which might garner attention because of the extra space in the stone or prolonged mana use. Or would no one be able to tell between a me-sized tunnel and a rat-sized pipe? Maybe if I had been going to the morning training with Instructor Hays, I’d know the limitations of a normal mage better.

I stood up, stretched out my back and rid Bitsy and me of the gross water. It didn’t make me feel any cleaner, especially when I picked out what felt like raw meat from Bitsy’s fur. I was afraid of seeing what I was covered in, so I started drenching myself in hopefully clean water I pulled from the air all the way back.

“Marty?”

“My my, aren’t we popular this fine…day,” he said while holding a book sideways up to his nose to look through a map on the second page. I didn’t want to consider if he’d been doing that the entire time.

“Very. Is there no other tunnel closer or a way up to the basement?”

“There’s a basement?”

“Forget I mentioned it,” I said and picked up the book I’d left behind. “Can I still take this?”

He flapped a hand in affirmative and dismissal. I liked to think that I had acclimated well to the dark sewers as long as I ignored the constant need to stand still and listen for the faintest sound of danger.

Bitsy was a big help since he didn’t even understand what was so bad—only having one predator to avoid, unlike on the surface, where everything was bigger than him. The food was the majority of the reason why he didn’t mind coming with me.

A pulse warned me of a problem past the first door to the castle. People were moving in the stairway and carrying the items up to the surface. Not wanting to spend more time in the sewers, I walked through the enchantment, waited for a moment without anyone watching, grabbed a crate, and joined the procession upwards.

Most of them were in uniform, either knightly or staff, and I got a few confused looks as I dropped off my item and left for the palace. One of the younger staff called out to me but was stopped by a knight I’d seen around.

Bitsy didn’t enjoy his second wash any more than the first but was amazed by my hammock. It took a while for him to get used to the swaying, his paws spread out to keep him steady. I lay with the jagged and worn pages of the book Marty had given me, flicking through the first few to find the contents.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

A Treatise on Extracting Reparations from a Wartime Adversary.

Introduction: Pretense of the conflict.

Volume 0: Establishing fault

Volume 1: Ensure that the continuation of fighting is unfavourable.

Volume 2: Negotiating with their political opposition.

Volume 3: Calculating how much and what to demand.

Volume 4: Annexation? Resources and Revolt.

Volume 5: Long-term Extraction without crippling resentment.

Volume 6: Forgiveness over Retribution.

I chewed on my lip, hemming and hawing on if I wanted to bother turning any more pages. It wasn’t what I usually like to read, but I’d found entertainment in alchemy manuals before I had an abundance of choice, so I pressed ahead.

The first few paragraphs were a confounding collection of quotes and anecdotes on the best way to designate the adversary, no matter the truth, as the aggressor. I scowled as the whole introduction detailed the different tactics used by powers across the continent.

Such as fake towns razed to the ground or armies dressed in foreign colours attacking their own people. It described disputed events that the author couldn’t provide proof of. Like Oclar attributing every wound on murder victims to mages, no matter the more likely options. Andraka sunk its own merchant ship as a pretence for a port occupation. Werl was mentioned for its racism towards elves and centaurs, labelling them barbaric people participating in human sacrifice.

However, the author was adamant that it was long past.

The next part about establishing fault at least had interesting links to a normal person’s day. Foisting blame on someone else seemed like a more likely thing I’d do than sinking my own merchant ship.

“Ma’am?” Haily said. “Madam Riker has asked you to…is that a rat?”

“His name’s Bitsy,” I said, holding him up on my palm.

Haily gave Bitsy a blank stare and turned back to me with thinly veiled contempt. “You will join the Madam for lunch. No rats. You have enough time to change out of that and into what I laid out on your bed.”

I glanced down at the overalls I’d changed into after my disastrous skirt choice and nodded, unwilling to go against her. She walked off while Bitsy ran down my arm and into my shirt, making me sit up in shock. Haily had left with only a passing glare at him, and she wasn’t that scary, so I wasn’t sure why he was suddenly scared.

Until Caypa came to land on the branches above.

I pulled at my clothes, trying to get Bitsy to come out so I could introduce the two, but it was impossible. All Bitsy saw were talons and a sharp beak while Caypa preened his feathers like the fussy bird he was.

“Can’t I leave you with Caypa so I can go to lunch without getting in trouble?”

The answer was a resounding no, and not because he would be missing out on food. I made a tunnel between the roots of the tree Caypa sat in and hollowed out space, shaking Bitsy out the leg of my overalls.

He fell onto the grass, noticed the vulture spreading his wings above and dove for the tunnel.

“He only eats dead things,” I reassured Bitsy as he went to the deepest part of the hole. “Look after him while I’m gone, and I’ll bring you another fish.”

I was glad I hadn’t gone with my original plan of sneaking Bitsy in my pocket because the green dress Haily laid out had none. Quinten’s healing was more appreciated since it left my arms exposed, and from what Jeremy had said, Janette might lock me away in a tower and forget the key if she saw the bruising.

It took me a while to get a bow that drooped off my waist to sit right, so I was late and quickly walked across the foyer to the dining room. The knight waiting outside the usual room shook his head to the sound of raised voices coming from inside and directed me to a different room a floor above.

I slowed my walk to give me longer to make sense of the shouting, but the knight shooed me away as someone slammed a fist into the table. Upstairs, inside a smaller room with grander windows and more decorative curtains, I found Janette. She was sitting at a round table with well-dressed men and women laughing quietly to the backdrop of clinking cutlery and glasses.

Everyone’s movements were poised and purposeful. The setting looked far too sophisticated for me, and I felt I’d be better suited for the shouting going on below.

Yanla leaned over to Janette and nodded my way, making her put down her cutlery and come over to me. Her arms splayed out to wrap me in a hug that smooshed my body to hers as she rocked from side to side.

Janette kept an arm around me and turned to display me to the rest of the room, introducing me as a long-term guest of the family.

They got up to greet me, and I recognised a few names, if not faces, like Madam Manafold and Linh’s father—all partners of people downstairs in the meeting.

“We assumed the empty chair was for Annalise,” one woman remarked. “She must be more than a simple guest, Janette. You simply must tell us.”

“Valeria was on the train with us from Kiteer with Annalise,” Madam Manafold said. "It's an interesting finale for a story I would wish to know the start of.”

I ducked away and pressed into Janette as another tried to lift my hair and comment on how luscious it was. She manoeuvred me away from them and around the table to the empty seat beside her.

“Yes, well, it may have been better of her to stay there than come to this lawless cesspit,” a man scoffed.

“Archie, enough.”

“You people don’t understand the sentiment out on the street; we are under attack. The military should be out in force, raiding known hubs of illegal activity.”

I leaned back as a cup of tea was placed before me and thanked the staff member. “Is that what they were shouting about downstairs?”

That got a few laughs from everyone but the man and they pointed fingers at whose partner would be making the most noise. Janette didn’t say anything, and I didn’t want to be the one to suggest it was the duke I’d heard.

“You laugh, but any of us could have just as easily been at the opera that night. Just as easily been the poor sap those bastard left to bleed out,” Archie said and dabbed a napkin at the tea hanging onto his moustache that looked like a fine tooth comb. However, my eyes were stuck on the frills he had hanging over his hands from the sleeves of his jacket.

“Vince saw to their capture,” Janette countered. “No need for that sort of fear-mongering among us”

“Ivania, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but we received a letter last night,” Archie said, leaning forward, his voice getting quieter. “They allege the main perpetrators got away. It goes without saying that she didn’t put it in today’s paper, and I’m sure there will be more clarification after their meeting, but…”

“The stuff they used at the opera house also doesn't have a mana signature,” Madam Manafold said. “How is anyone supposed to stop something like that? People are already terrified of mages. Now, any old person can replicate military spellcraft?”

“I heard they used sofas to bring it in.”

“We should be stopping all travelling merchants. Especially from the east, that’s obviously where this stuff came from.”

“And that has nothing to do with your business benefiting from the subsequent rise in prices?”

“Janette, Iviania wants to print something to inform people about the dangers of newcomers to our city and what they could be bringing in,” Archie said, leaning over his dainty pastries to talk across the table. “We wouldn’t want to overstep and cause a panic right before the vote.”

Half the table scoffed and rolled their eyes, but the man pressed on.

“But people deserve to know how easily this new weapon can go unnoticed. Maybe reignite the conversation about a real barrier of entry into our city.”

Janette slowly put down her cup as everyone waited for her response, but I beat her to it, even around a mouthful of a crunchy stick of baked bread with nuts. “It’s not that hard to find, and they’re not bringing it in. They make it here.”

I felt the eyes of everyone fall onto my stuffed cheeks and I chose to take another bite instead of speaking into the silence.

Janette put up a hand to stop the open mouths ready to flood me with questions. “I’m sure you’ll be hearing about where it was made from your partners after the meeting. But why do you say it’s easy to find?”

I’d almost sighed in relief when Janette came to my rescue from saying too much. “Ah, it’s an…I’m an alchemist of sorts, and dragon’s breath is alchemy. And alchemical products stink. Any animal in the city with a better nose than us can sniff it out quite quickly.”

Bitsy had refused to go near my hands after opening the jar in the minecart and was adamant it still burned his nose even after our wash. I crunched on another stick to give myself time to think through what else I could say when I wasn’t supposed to have been anywhere near the stuff.

“Is there any reason that couldn’t work?” Janette asked. “What could we train the quickest?”

That got another conversation going that I didn’t want to participate in. Because if they asked me what I would pick, I’d say rat, and I wasn’t sure if Haily’s refusal to have them in the room would extend to talking about them.

“You’re out of your mind if you think horses are going to go along with this nonsense,” Archie said.

“It was only suggested because everyone already uses them.”

“What about bloodhounds? Surely they can track something besides blood?”

“You’ll confuse the poor beasties. And they’re expensive enough for hunting as is; no need to triple the demand.”

“I have someone I can ask,” Janette said. “And I’m sure our partners already thought of it, but could you go inform them for us, Yanla? We should turn to lighter conversations like what your children say about the first weeks of Equitier?”

“Ha, I don’t think I’ll hear from mine until the break.” “The brat said their cooking was better.” “Andria wants to come home already.”

“Aww.”

Yanla opened the door to leave, and Jeremy stepped in, holding his hands behind him.

“Ah. Jeremy,” Janatte said coolly.

“Madam Riker,” Jeremy said, stopping on the other side of the table. I need to, sorry, would like to borrow Valeria for a moment.”

I suppressed a smile as I made a list of what kind of reparations I could extract from him.