image [https://i.postimg.cc/mkJBrP71/Alpar.png]

As Amelia wandered through the streets, the bustling port town gradually gave way to the slums that stretched westward, a sprawling maze of poverty and neglect. Meager dwellings and narrow, winding alleys replaced the vibrant commerce and lively taverns of the town's center.

The cobbled path beneath her feet soon turned to dirt roads, uneven and pocked with the scars of countless footsteps. These were the forgotten parts of Alpar, where the people who had lost everything during the Incursion sought refuge.

In these slums, the houses were little more than shanties, cobbled together from whatever materials their inhabitants could scavenge. Wood, warped by the salt air, leaned precariously against haphazardly raised stone walls. Cloth curtains served as doors, fluttering in the gentle sea breeze, offering a glimpse of the lives within. Families crowded into single rooms, their belongings sparse and worn, their faces etched with the hardships of daily survival.

In Haylich, even poor farmers had decent houses. Their Blessings allowed them to build sturdy constructions, and over time, they’d get reinforced. Better even if a neighbor was a Journeyman carpenter, as their skills allowed them to put a building up in a matter of days. But the Incursion meant all that had to be left behind. It had brought a level of poverty few could escape, especially given the legal constraints on new construction outside the walls.

Despite the dire conditions, the streets were not devoid of life. Children played in narrow alleys, their laughter a defiant sound against the backdrop of poverty. Men and women went about their daily tasks with a resilience born of necessity. Their faces, marked by stoicism, reminded Amelia of her own past.

The one thing that set these slums apart from the other impoverished areas of the kingdom was that they were surprisingly clean. The dirt roads were free of refuse and excrement, a small mercy that Amelia knew resulted from the few resident mages' efforts. These mages, themselves outcasts from the more prosperous parts of Alpar, used their spells to prevent a plague outbreak. It was a thankless task.

When Amelia reached the small market plaza that had sprung up for the residents to commerce, she made a point of stopping and chatting with several of the slum's residents.

These people might not matter much in the grand scheme of things, but Leonard cares for them. If they can be made to be of use to him without getting into danger, I’m sure they will be overjoyed. Not that they will know, but the effect is the same.

When she approached, a woman’s face lit up with recognition, and she stopped hawking her wares. “M’lady, it’s wonderful to see you!”

“Lorenza, I hope you’ve had a productive day?” Amelia asked back, her lips curling in a small smile as she proffered her hand, which the woman reverently brought to her forehead.

Letting go, Lorenza shrugged. “As good as things can be here. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. I know you and the Hero have been working hard to help us, but there is only so much coin exchanging hands away from the town.”

Amelia deliberately allowed a sigh to escape her lips, “We are unfortunately limited since the rest of the kingdom seems determined to ignore your plight. And if it wasn’t enough, this last excess has made things even worse!”

Several nearby merchants who had already been paying attention to her started moving closer. “It’s true then? They’ve arrested the Hero?”

Amelia nodded solemnly, unshed tears glittering in her eyes, “The soldiers came for him during his vigil. They didn’t even allow him to finish mourning.”

Outrage spread through the plaza like wildfire. These people might not have been influential or wealthy, but they remembered who saved them. Leonard Weiss would always be the Hero to them, and the mere thought of him sitting in a cell, awaiting the judgment of a government they felt had abandoned them, stoked their anger something fierce.

“This is too much,” Lorenza said tearfully, “My poor lady, your heart must be in pieces. Losing Lady Belinda and now this.”

Amelia gave her a sad smile, dark hair failing to cover her expression and giving her an even more tragic look. “These are dark times.”

That seemed to be the thing the still-forming mob needed because several men started marching towards the town center, enflamed beyond words at her tragic suffering.

After reassuring Lorenza that she would go home and rest after taking care of one last piece of business, Amelia left the market with unhurried steps, careful to keep a satisfied smile from stretching her lips.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“You look like a constipated frog.” A feminine voice called from a nearby alley.

Amelia’s carefully composed expression of grief crumbled into a look of annoyed fondness, “If you grow another inch, you might want to sign up for the Royal Army. You certainly won’t be able to move around the old witch’s hut with how clumsy you’ve become.”

“Peh! If only the people could see you now! Not the perfect lady who suffers for their plight, are you?” A teenage girl grumbled, emerging from the shadows to stand before Amelia. She wore a simple but clean tunic and had several plants interwoven with her frizzy brown hair. Her face would have been called pretty if not for the pox marks that ruined it. Amelia knew that they were still there as an incentive by the girl’s mentor to become a better Alchemist so that she could heal them herself. She approved.

“The thing that matters is what the people see and believe. Everything else that goes on behind the curtains is not theirs to care about, Margaret.” Amelia said, resuming her walk, though at a brisker pace now that she was out of the more populated areas.

“Sometimes I wonder just how deep your and Old Lia’s schemes go, but my head starts hurting, and I stop.” The teenage apprentice grumbled, hurrying to catch up.

Amelia let out an elegant laugh, the back of her left hand raising to cover her mouth. “Keep trying, and someday you’ll be able to do more than basic poultices. It’s a good exercise, if anything.”

Unintelligible mutterings followed, but Amelia gracefully allowed the girl to go unpunished. Despite all the earlier excitement, her work had only just started. Meeting Old Lia, the ancient alchemist who ruled the underbelly of Alpar and had contacts all over the province, would be a much more delicate endeavor than convincing the already angry populace to finally direct that sentiment to the people who deserved it.

Eventually, after a few more minutes of walking, they reached a house that seemed out of place. Stout stone walls and an iron door spoke of wealth unheard in the slums, and a carefully maintained garden skirted very close to taunting the poor residents.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not if one knew the inhabitant, no one ever attempted to steal from it. Be it because they believed the rumor that a cannibalistic witch resided within or because they knew that the woman who lived there was one of the few reasons why almost no one had died of sickness in the slums, it stood untouched.

Margaret walked in without hesitation, opening the front door and ducking under a green tentacle that shot out of a nearby pot as if it were a daily occurrence.

Amelia was ignored as usual. The plants might not be sentient, but they had enough sense to avoid attacking a Champion. Sometimes, she wondered if they weren’t smarter than many humans she knew.

Lia waited for them in the sitting room, where she stood hunched over a large cauldron that was merrily bubbling away. By the pungent medical smell, Amelia believed it to be another batch of her Preventative Draught, which was responsible for the unusually good health of the people of Alpar.

“Tsk. I can see you have finally started acting on your plots by the smug look you are failing to suppress, Summoner!” The old woman barked. She had long, grey hair tied in a loose braid behind her back. A blue cowl covered her shoulders, made of a shiny material Amelia knew to be non-reactive to alchemical reagents. A green tartan dress was below it, embroidered at the cuffs with enchanted strips of leather and small gems, which provided protection from accidents. Her hands, nose and feet were the only things that betrayed her Demi-human status, but Old Lia had long since achieved a unique position in the society of rejects around them, and no one cared if she was a hobgoblin.

“I must start working on my expressions again if I have become this readable,” Amelia responded casually, taking a seat on the large sofa before the cauldron.

Lia sighed, giving her a baleful glare for her cheek before turning to address her apprentice, “Get some things from the pantry and go visit Oliver, girl. The Light knows he’ll starve himself with his mentor in jail. I’d be surprised if that boy even bothered to sleep since the funeral, and his mother hasn’t been able to keep him home since he got his first Blessing.”

“Last I saw him, his mother and sister had wrangled him back home after stopping him from storming the courthouse by himself. He’s probably still there.” Amelia chipped in, getting a distracted thanks from the teenage girl, who scurried away, knowing better than to delay in the hopes of overhearing anything.

Once the door was shut behind her, Amelia felt the wards around the house flare up, a [Silence] spell coming into being to shield them alongside the more complex [Protection from Divination].

“So, the time has come.” The old hobgoblin said, turning off the fire below the cauldron with a wave of her hand and coming to sit before Amelia.

“As we expected, they couldn’t suffer Leonard’s continued presence. His being in the capital was difficult, as they had to tiptoe around him with their shady dealings, but sending him away was worse. I wouldn’t be surprised if the order to kill him came directly from the king.” Amelia answered.

The gems hanging from Old Lia’s wrists tinkled as she rubbed her hands together, “I see you are really committed to going all in if you are this open about it.”

“What else is there to do? They have gone too far now. Even I didn’t expect them to attempt to assassinate him from the beginning. I was ready for harassment of all kinds, but this… Leonard is, unfortunately, a pure soul, and the loss of Belinda will continue to hurt him in the long term. But he knows things cannot remain as they are now.” Amelia answered, her beautiful face twisted in a glower.

“You are correct, of course. It’s pretty obvious that the Royal Court only cares for the ‘good’ provinces. They have left us to rot. That they would attempt to kill the Hero who saved the kingdom not even half a year ago just shows that they cannot be saved from themselves.” The alchemist responded.

“We need to start laying the foundations. Our agents will need to become more active, and our resources should be available at any time we might need them.” Amelia continued as if she hadn’t heard, too tied up in her vision. “We’ll need to wait until Leonard decides what form our reaction will take, but any option should be on the table.”

Lia grinned, a cruel thing that would have sent shivers down any knight’s spine. “Then we have a lot of work to do. Alpar is easy enough and needs little active work, but the nearby towns will require a more direct hand to be ripe for harvest.”

She might be decrepit, but she’s competent like few others. And she already has a network of spies all over the province made of her old apprentices and their families. She’s not magically powerful, but she wields her own form of might.

The two women settled down for the long haul. Planning would necessarily need to remain vague, since Leonard would have the last word on anything, but they could already begin to make some moves. Place a few of their people around those who might be called to answer unrest.

They had concentrated on gathering interesting snippets from all levels of society thus far, but now that things were heating up, the nobles and military ranks would receive their attention. Whether they wanted it or not.