The roads are a mess as we ride toward the source of fire and fear. The complications are undoubtedly because we are going in the opposite direction of the heavy traffic, who are unilaterally moving away from the problem. The sight reminds me of farmers starting fires to smoke out vermin, rats and snakes fleeing from the promise of death taking the shape of a column of dark smoke.

Suddenly, we’re all thrown aside as the carriage makes a sharp turn. I don’t have the chance to question the crazy maneuver before an image is sent to my mind of an accident blocking the road. “We have to walk the rest of the way,” I tell Kierra who is unperturbed. Eyes practically gleaming with excitement, she throws open the door and jumps into the chaos.

“Leave the carriage,” I tell Geneva as I step onto the road. My personal ride is worth quite a bit, but I’m not worried about anyone taking it. It’d be child’s play to track it down. And as for someone vandalizing it, well. It’d be easy to track any perpetrators down as well and I’d be reimbursed for any damage, one way or another. It’s more important that I have the succubus with me in case an investigation is required.

The scene of the incident is just as chaotic as the roads leading to it. Near the half-collapsed and blackened remains of a building, there are three distinct crowds. Along the outskirts of the wreckage are the curious, the dubious, and the otherwise disturbed. Those attracted to the macabre sight, clucking and whispering to one another like bothered hens as they gape at the destruction. They’re a strange sight, standing in a loose flock, most holding handkerchiefs up to their noses in a futile effort to combat the bad air. Amongst them are several hunters, identifiable from the weapons they carry.

Holding them back is the second group, the city guards. They stand with their backs to the mess, holding back the first group with stern words and outstretched arms. They try to present as strong but their facade cracks in several places as the enforcers of the king’s law break the ranks of the crescent holding back the crowd to gossip, both with each other and some of the hunters they’re meant to be keeping away.

The last group is the only one of relevance. They are the smallest but the most conspicuous, gathered right in front of the wreckage. They’re also armed but there is a difference in the quality of the weapons. There’s also a distinct difference in age. All but one of the six standing in front of the smoking wreck are older men, their hair graying or otherwise lacking with stern wrinkles emphasized by their shared frowns.

It’s obvious that the group of six are in control so I’ll have to talk to them eventually, but we start by moving amongst the largest group. Thankfully, the presence of the guards has kept the mob contained and their voices at the level of whispers. My hearing is impressive but it’s impossible to pick up the buzzing of insects beneath a beast’s roar. As it is, I, and I imagine those with me, have no trouble distinguishing the different conversations happening around us.

“The whole city is going to the Abyss…”

“Was it a store?”

“Yeah, they did a good deal on camping kits. Why would someone want to attack that place?”

“A hunter, you mean. They’re the only ones throwing around this kind of magic.”

“You’re forgetting about the Hall.”

“As if. Those bastards only look down on us from their rock.”

“I heard it wasn’t a caster. I heard it was alchemy.”

“Like bombs? Damn, what are the guards doing?”

“Those shiny pigs are useless.”

“The hunters then. Don’t they keep an eye on the alchemists?”

“Oh, blessed saints, there were people in the building.”

“How long are the roads going to be closed?”

“Where is that useless lord? Shouldn’t he be here?”

“Who would want to bomb a random store?”

“Not a random store. One For All ran this place. Kept things affordable for their hunters.”

“Someone attacked a One For All store? Are the guilds at each other’s throats now?”

“No, this has got to be those crazy bastards from the north. All of them are insane, you know.”

“Oh, definitely. My mother told me that they bathe in snow. Just big tubs of the stuff.”

“I heard they’re all beast fuckers and they’re all horribly disfigured. Dog heads, goat feet, and worse. That’s why they never leave their fort.”

“You’re full of it. There are plenty of Victorians in the city and they’re no uglier than you. How else could their people get away with something like this?”

“They wouldn’t need an agent. They’ve got that insane noblewoman to do their dirty work.”

“I’ve heard of her. The Book family. No, it was Tome. Yeah, that sounds right.”

“I heard she’s so crazy, even the Hall wants nothing to do with her.”

“I’m not surprised. A woman marrying another woman. If that’s not a sign of madness, I don’t know what is. Who knows what else she gets up to.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“I heard her eyes are purple. People don’t have purple eyes.”

“You’re right. Could be she’s not even human. Could be some shapeshifting manabeast, possibly from the elven continent. All the other races hate us. Could be this is a plot weaken us before a foreign army invades.”

“Could be this, could be that. Could be you’re talking out of your ass, haha!”

“A little early in the day for it, don’t you think?”

“Shaddup!”

“Hey, isn’t that her? That noblewoman?”

“Purple eyes, purple hair. Fuck, it is, isn’t it?”

“Eh, I wouldn’t say her hair is purple. More purply-black?”

“Is that the elf?”

“See! A foreign plot!”

“…I’d do her.”

“Oh, shit. Is she here to launch another attack?”

“I’m not sticking around to find out!”

Our eavesdropping becomes difficult as more and more of the crowd drop their conversations to stare at us. The mood is overwhelmingly negative, the many gazes filled with fear, anger, and suspicion. Admittedly uncomfortable. I’m not threatened by their disapproval, I doubt all these people working together could cut one of my nails, but that doesn’t mean I like being looked at like I’m going to slaughter and devour them, including their bones.

Of course, my companions are completely immune to the hostility. Geneva is unfazed as she moves through the crowd, a pleasant smile fixed to her face and her tail swaying slowly. Kierra, the deviant, revels in the attention, strutting through the crowd and giving them more reason to stare.

As we approach the ring of city guards, the two men closest to us look at one another before stepping aside. I wonder why. Is it because they heard of what’s become of their lord? Easy to step aside when no one’s going to hold you accountable.

Maybe they think we’re behind this attack too and the burned wreck behind them has them rethinking their oaths. Or perhaps the entire guard is reeling from the injuries inflicted on some of their number by Alana and Bell. Many of their members were at the lord’s estate. My knight didn’t chase those that chose to flee like a certain savage elf, but plenty were injured before they understood how outclassed they were.

Either way, I’m glad a possible annoyance has decided to take care of itself. The group of six don’t look like they’ll be nearly as agreeable. Their desire for us to disappear is so strong, I swear I can feel it, a wall of thick air that pushes at us. Strong enough to crush someone weaker, but I can walk through actual walls now. Some disapproval isn’t enough to make me blink, let alone make me pause.

“Good morning,” I call energetically, forcing some jovial air into the tense space. “Shame what happened. What did happen here?”

“You—" A man as big as a bear and just as hairy, though that hair is admittedly well-groomed, takes a step toward me, big nostrils flaring, but before he can make the worst mistake of his life, the man beside him grabs him by the shoulder. They stare at one another until the large man takes back his aggressive step.

Surprisingly, it’s the youngest of their number that talks, features tense as he struggles to keep his expression blank. “Good evening, Lady Tome.” I squint as my attention turns to him. I swear, there’s something familiar about him. Have we met before? It’s entirely possible. My memory isn’t the best when it comes to men’s faces, almost as bad as it is with their names. “I apologize for disturbing your morning.”

“Why are you apologizing? Unless you’re the one that started a spontaneous bonfire.”

“It wasn’t me, no, but this is a guild matter. As guildmasters, we are responsible for maintaining order amongst our ranks. Clearly, we’ve failed.”

“You? A guildmaster?”

The younger man, only young when compared to the men around him as he’s undoubtedly older than me by a decade at the least, straightens up. His expression betrays his offense for a brief moment before it’s gone. “After Guildmaster Emeritus’…abrupt departure, an interim guildmaster was appointed until more lengthy processes can be completed.”

“Hm.” So, he’s the replacement for a master caster. Doesn’t look like much. “You didn’t introduce yourself.”

“I’m no one of import,” he says dismissively. “And this is no matter for your concern.”

“I think someone razing a building in the middle of the city is everyone’s concern. I could feel the blast all the way at the lord’s estate.”

“This is not enough destruction for what we felt,” Kierra remarks. She tries to get a closer look at the building’s remains but two of the men step in her way, their tense postures making it clear that if she keeps walking, they’ll stop her. Or try, the fools.

“Again, this isn’t your concern.”

“Oh, but it is. You see, my wife is horribly curious. If she doesn’t get an answer to her question, she’ll be bothered by it for the rest of the day. And that means I’ll be bothered for the rest of the day. Understand?”

The man who doesn’t want to share his name is unamused by my reasoning. Unfortunately for him, I’m unaffected by his glare. His dark gaze flicks to Kierra who is playfully raising and lowering her foot toward the two men blocking her, who are both visibly becoming more frustrated by the moment, and he sighs. “This was no mere store. It was a storehouse. The basements contained a surplus of weapons, armor, potions, and alchemical ingredients.”

“All destroyed by the blast,” another man asks before spitting to the side in distaste. “Someone’s going to pay for this. In gold andblood.”

“You said blast, not spell. Was it a bomb?”

“That really is none of your concern,” the interim guildmaster snipes. “I’ve done you the courtesy of answering your question. I would appreciate it if you would do me one in turn and leave. Your presence isn’t making our jobs easier.”

“Alright.”

He peers at me with suspicion, not trusting my easy acceptance. But what can he do? I’m doing exactly as he wants. “…thank you, your ladyship.”

My response is a wave over my shoulder as I walk away, Kierra and Geneva following me. Once we are hidden in a thin alley behind the crowd of onlookers, I turn to my succubus. “So?”

“All six men were wearing artifacts to block mana intrusion and managing their thoughts. I have a new, crude recipe for stewed chicken, if you would like to try it.”

“What?” Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?

“Not at all, my summoner. This is not a trick or petty revenge. The artifacts aren’t powerful, but it would be impossible to search their minds without alerting them that I’m doing so. That would have gone against previous orders.”

Those things are supposed to be rare.

“Are they? Or has a shortage amongst the public perpetuated that idea? Create the circumstances and people will make up their own lies and there is no harder lie to break than a self-perpetuated one.”

I gape at the succubus. “Are you suggesting…that the guilds of Quest have a secret stash of mental affinity stones?”

Kierra hums. “It makes sense. If Quest was originally an army fighting the worst beasts your kingdom had to offer, they would not want to share valuable resources with a fledgling king they owed little, if any, allegiance too. If the first hunters discovered a deposit of magical stones, they would ensure said power went to their comrades and subordinates. That would require secrecy.”

“If they are hiding a stash of powerful artifacts, who knows what else they are hiding,” Geneva says, her tail swinging faster. “Things that would be discovered with Victory rummaging through their lives to collect a large debt.”

“A good reason for them to refuse to honor the March,” Kierra adds with a chuckle.

…fuck.

There’s no way this is going to end peacefully, is there?