How are we going to torture him when we find him? asked Siidi.

Now, normally Isse would’ve told her that she was exaggerating, that torture was too much and some more moralistic shit. That is, normally. At the moment, she didn’t feel like being humane and kind. At the moment she was pissed and feeling rather murderous.

“How about tying him to the ceiling and tickling him?”

Girl, if this is what happens when you’re feeling murderous then I fear what you’ll do to the King when we get to him.

“Yeah, well, Albert has committed a great sin by taking away the follow up books, but he’s not massacred our Clan at least. So he only gets tickle torture.”

Hmm… sounds reasonable.

She took the little note in her hands and read it again. Nope, there was no hidden meaning that she could discern, only that Albert was being a bastard.

“Why did he do this?”

Honestly? I have no idea.

She stared at the piece of paper as if it contained all the answers to her life’s problems (which it sort of did right now), willing the words to make more sense, or to unlock some new meaning, but the letters sadly didn’t change like they did in many of those stories of magics and secrets.

“Do you think he disappeared from the house to survive the worst of our fury?”

Probably. Joke’s on him though, we can keep a grudge.

Indeed they could, and they would.

“Alright, let’s think this through. What do we know?”

… That the books are gone and that Albert isn’t here, apparently gone for a sudden job.

“So, not much.”

Isse, I don’t want to be a stick in the mud, but we aren’t exactly [Detectives].

“Yes, but I’m a [Spy]. I should be able to do thi -” she stopped before she could finish the sentence, realization dawning on her.

“Oh, you piece of shit. This is training.”

What?

“He’s trying to train me in a novel way. Taking away something I want and making me find it. Just like a [Spy]. The bastard.”

So this is training. Shitty training. Oh come the fuck on, you can’t be serious. I hate you life!

Yes, they both really liked books.

“Considering our luck he’ll just disappear wherever he went and not come back until we’ve solved this.”

…Then we better get to it.

Isse looked back down at the piece of paper and sat down on the ground, curling her spidery legs underneath her to stay comfortable and trying to speculate.

“So, we know he has the books, or at least he knows where they’re hidden. So, the best way to get them back is by finding him.”

But he’s not here.

“Bright observation Watson.”

Who’s Watson? Oh, that’s who? Poor man. He needs a lot of patience.

“Wait, are you looking at the memories of the books or the TV series?”

There’s a TV Series? Oh, yes, there is. Oh Stars, Sherlock is a real piece of shit in this one.

“Yeah. Anyways, we don’t know where he is…” and then an idea hit her, “But we do know where he was yesterday. He said he had to go to a noble’s home.”

Yes, and he also said he didn’t want us to go there. And I’m keen on agreeing with him on that one. [Lords] and their ilk have a habit of being unpredictable.

Yes, there was that too, but the main problem was actually: “Yeah, but we don’t even know which noble he went to work for.”

They fell silent for a while longer, sitting on the ground and scrabbling for a solution. They wanted those books, with all of themselves, which meant they had to play this little game, however childish and possibly dangerous it may be.

It was Siidi who came up with a solution: We don’t know where he went, sure, but we do know someone who could know.

“Who?”

The Tea Woman from the Empty Hearted’s Rest. She seemed to know Albert.

A lightbulb popped on it Isse’s head as she understood what she meant and smiled.

“Siidi, you’re a motherfucking genius.”

I try.

They began the hunt.

----------------------------------------

The hunt, as it turns out, was extremely slow, because they didn’t remember the way to the Boneless Dancer. Which, you know, understandable, seeing how they’d still been sort of an emotional wreck on the way in and a generally empty husk on the way out.

Luckily for them the Dancer was a rather famous establishment in the city, so there was no lack of people more than willing to tell a ‘good looking young woman’ (yes, that’s how one of the men had called her in an attempt to flirt) about its location. It still took them more or less an hour to reach it, but in the end they did it.

Well, at least in this city you don’t have to think in three dimensions, tried to joke Siidi.

What? In three dimensions?

When every member of your species has the ability to climb walls and cling on ceilings the architects of your city work with the idea that people will do just that. We had apartment complexes, but we had no need to waste space on creating stairs.

That… sounded actually cool.

Anyways, here they were: the bar outside was painted a bright yellow with red stripes here and there, with a mural of a skeleton attempting, and probably failing, to dance with legs made of jellified bones. It was childish and stupid and funny and she liked it.

The bar was also open, a steady stream of chatter and trickle of people coming from inside.

I like it. It reminds me of home, said Isse.

She remembered a place like this one near her home back on Earth, a little corner café that had never lacked clients, with walls painted in hearty colors and a mural made by a few art students representing a group of patrons laughing with beers in their hand. A warm and welcoming place to rest your weary soul and feel like part of something, even if only for a short while, by playing a game of cards with the local old men or attempting to beat at darts a half drunk semi-permanent client and discovering that he was a better shot than you even when buzzed.

This place gave her the same feeling of homeliness and merriment now, a completely different side from the one it had shown her during the ‘Empty Hearted’s Rest’.

Slowly, nearly reverentially, she skittered inside, and entered a small world separate from the one inside. A world of background chatter and laughter and smell of good food and coffee.

Wait, coffee?

Oh my god Siidi, this place has coffee.

And it was also one of the few places in the world where one could get it. The beverage had been discovered rather recently in the Kingdom of Occultism by a now-rich [Druid] who had a, as his friends liked to put it, bad habit of trying to make infusions out of anything. That was how he’d found the tasty beverage and, some experimentation later, started to sell it. It was not, for now, widespread, but the few places that served it could never have enough.

Please don’t get addicted again, I have your memories of what that felt like and I have no desire to get a taste of it.

Oh come on, it wasn’t so bad.

Girl, your hands couldn’t stop shaking for a while. Wait, what’s this? The ‘Student’s Coffee’? What the hell kind of abomination is this.

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A moment of silence, then: It is dark knowledge that should never be shared, nor used.

Slight horror filled the background of Isse’s thoughts as Siidi agreed with that last statement.

“Good morning and welcome to the Boneless Dancer miss. My name’s Lavia, would you like a table?” said a chipper and airy voice by her side.

Isse turned around so fast she heard her neck crick and saw… a birdkin? Her body was human in all aspects, except that her arms were wings with talons at the end, while her legs looked distinctly chicken-like, with feathers that were a warm, brown, color.

Oh, a harpy, said Siidi, That’s a sight you don’t see every day.

Isse smiled: “Good morning Miss Lavia. I’m not here to buy sadly, I haven’t brought my coin pouch,” she actually didn’t have one, something she should solve soon, “I’m here on… you could say business. Say, could I speak with your Teamaker?”

And that was when Isse knew she’d made a blunder: the harpy’s smile became waxy as her eyes began darting around to check if anyone else had heard. Luckily for both of them, nobody had.

Faster than the eye could blink, the woman bowed down towards Isse’s ear and whispered: “Miss, I remember you from a few nights ago, during the ‘Rest’. I had thought Albert would’ve told you, but we speak neither of those evenings nor of our Teamaker. She likes her privacy.”

Ah. Well, that was a bad start.

“I understand, Miss Lavia. I am sorry. Still, the matter remains, I need to speak with… someone. I am looking for Albert. He said he was going out for a job in the nobles’ quarter, but he’s forgotten something home and I’d like to bring it to him. Would you know where he went? Or know someone who could know?” she lied.

Lavia raised a bushy eyebrow and, after a second, nodded.

“I think I know someone.”

She motioned her to follow and began walking towards the counter at the back of the room.

It was made out of polished wood, clearly well kept, even though here and there one could see signs of wear and use in the form of burn marks (how had those gotten there?) and old stains. She ‘sat’ in one of the comfortable stools, her dress weaving the illusion of her being sat there, and waited as Lavia went to tell something to a woman behind the counter.

She was a strikingly… normal human. Her hair was a dull brown, her eyes a dark green, like the first grasses that come out of the winter snow, and the rest of her wasn’t much to talk about. An absolutely normal, common, person. But her smile, oh, her smile warmed the room, and the sound of her laughter brightened the bar. Was it a Skill, or was she just that charismatic?

When Lavia went to talk to her she stopped listening to a man’s woes and worries in front of her, her brows furrowing, then relaxing, until she burst out into mirthful laughter and wiped a tear from her left eye.

She excused herself from the customer, promising she would be coming back in a few moments, and offered him the drink, before walking towards Isse.

When they met face to face, the woman nodded in recognition and offered her hand to shake: “Hello cutie, I’m Creanza, the [Barista] here. And you would be Isse, Albert’s new partner in crime. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Her smile was joking and sort of merry and it only grew when Isse shook her hand back. The woman had a surprisingly strong grip.

“Yes, I’m Isse, although I wouldn’t call us partners in crime. More like… a caretaker?” she remembered the lie Albert had told that man at the gates and added, “I’m his niece.”

And at that, Creanza laughed again, bending at the waist and smacking her leg. The arachne didn’t know what was so funny about this.

Then she lowered herself towards her illusion’s ear, looking around conspiratorially in a very exaggerated manner and whispering faintly: “I know there’s more to it Isse. Albert doesn’t have any family left in this world. He’s an orphan. I don’t know the whole story, and I don’t really want to, what would I even do with the information? Force him to come here and buy more stuff?” she chuckled, and the sound was real, but still Isse shivered. This woman was more than what she gave away.

“Anyways,” she rose, clapping her hands, “What would you like to get? Can I treat you to some juice? Or maybe you’d prefer something more alcoholic? You certainly look like you’re old enough for that, although that rule is preeeeeetty elastic here. Or maybe I could tempt you with some of our special tea blends? How does ‘Evening Sun with an Aftertaste of Puppeteer’ sound to you?”

Isse frowned: “What in Airm is that?”

“Oh, well, a friend of mine likes to make strange teas. They taste great, but she never tells me what she puts in them, so I just come up with silly names based on what they make me feel. Well, me and the [Chef] back there. He made up the name for this one. Or, if you’re more interested in trying new stuff, I could offer you a coffee. On the house, naturally. First time is always on the house.”

Clearly Creanza was also a very attentive woman, because she immediately noticed Isse’s eyes light up at the mention of coffee and smiled: “Ah, Albert already introduced you to his most recent addiction? Well, it is quite the good drink, although I wouldn’t suggest drinking too much in one go: at best you won’t sleep tonight, at worst it’ll come out the other way still liquid.”

People around them groaned in disgust and told Creanza to fuck off, they were eating, to which the woman answered with an exaggerated grimace and a giggle.

“A… a coffee will do,” finally managed to answer Isse. This woman was a lot.

Creanza nodded and sauntered off to the kitchen, telling someone inside that she, using her words, ‘was needy for a coffee’, which prompted a male voice from inside to tell her to fuck off. A true professional that one.

Then she came back and, after snapping her fingers, sat down on a chair that hadn’t been there a moment before. Seeing Isse’s puzzled face she chuckled: “A Skill of Mine: [Summon Comfortable Chair]. Got it at Level 23, evolved from a simple [Summon Chair]. I do have to admit that this one is much more comfy than the rickety wooden thing I could call before. Sadly it disappears once I get up and has a one day cooldown. What a bummer!”

She put her face on her fist, grousing, then lit back up and looked right at her: “Anyways, I heard from Lavia you’re looking for poor, lost, Albert. He went and disappeared somewhere, forgetting his stuff, and now you’re looking for him to give him all of it, right?”

Isse nodded. It was a lie, but it also wasn’t. She did indeed have a box of gears she’d taken at random from his workshop, and she knew so little about his job that, for all she knew, he had forgotten something. So it wasn’t a lie… technically. A Truth Spell would’ve probably flashed a color between truth and lie.

Creanza nodded: “That’s a good one kiddo. Not the best I’ve heard, you can work on it a lot more, but it’s in the middle ground.”

Wait, the woman knew it was a lie? Well, alright, it wasn’t even a good one, she had expected some doubt, but not to be directly found out. Nor to be sort of complemented for it.

“Erm…”

“Don’t worry, you’ll have all the time in the world to work on that.”

“... Are you some sort of [Spy] yourself?” she whispered.

The woman laughed, taking a few seconds to calm down. She really was the boisterous type.

“Goodness me no! I’d rather eat a bucket of cow shit -” more groans around them “- every day of my life for the rest of my miserable existence than become that. No no no, I’m happy where I am in this bar.”

“She’s just a huge fucking gossip!” said someone from somewhere behind her in the crowd.

And while Isse couldn’t understand who had spoken, Creanza immediately pointed her finger at someone she couldn’t quite see and said: “Watch your mouth Sherry or I’ll cut you off your coffees.”

“Gods forbid!” shouted back the same voice.

And then Creanza gave all her attention back to Isse again, or as much of it she had given before. The woman seemed to know exactly what was happening everywhere inside her bar.

“Now,” she continued, “I know where Albert went. I can even give you directions, although I’m sure you’ll forget them two streets from here, so instead I’ll haul you a carriage and tell it to bring you there. But first,” she extended her hand forwards and wiggled her fingers, “Pay up.”

Isse goggled at the hand, then up at Creanza, who was smiling as if she’d just told a funny joke and was expecting the person in front of her to laugh.

It wasn’t funny.

“What do you mean pay up?”

“I mean that you have to pay for the information. We accept all types of coins, from copper to regals, although if you had one of those I probably would need to go to the Merchant’s Guild to make sure it’s a real one. I also accept payment in secrets and gossip, and no, I cannot accept secrets about Albert, we have a deal about that.”

Isse’s mouth opened, then remained open as she tried to think of something to say, then closed.

Creanza chuckled: “Yes, you’re pretty new at this. Here’s the thing girl: in the business you want to become a part of, money and secrets are the two things you must always have a good amount of. Money can buy secrets, secrets can buy you other secrets or what you desire, or other people. And secrets are worth money. It’s the perfect circular economy. Wait, do you know what circular economy is?”

She nodded, then shrugged: “I may have a problem: I don’t have any money on me. Like, at all.”

Lavia placed a big cup of coffee on the counter in front of her, bowed, and left, but Isse didn’t launch herself at it, instead looking Creanza straight in the eyes.

“Oh, we can arrange something dearie. How about this: I’ll tell you what you want to know, and in exchange you’ll owe me a favor. How does that sound?”

She offered her hand to shake, but Isse didn’t immediately do that.

“What would the favor be?”

Creanza smiled merrily and nodded: “Oh, nothing untoward. It’ll probably be something along the lines of ‘work in my bar for a day’ or something like that. The information you’re asking for, after all, isn’t that important.”

Isse hesitated a moment more, but was convinced when, for the first time, Siidi entered the conversation: Do it for the books!

Fuck off, you’re not the one who’s going to have to serve tables.

Do it for the booooooooooks, repeated Siidi, her voice seeming more distant, and causing her to chuckle.

Well, fuck it, we’ve come so far.

She shook Creanza’s hand: “Alright, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

----------------------------------------

As the carriage carrying Issekina left towards a particular house of the nobles’ district, Creanza watched her go with a small smile and, when she was completely out of sight, a shake of her head.

“Albert, you piece of shit, you were right. You always are. She went and did exactly what you predicted.”

She looked back at her bar, at her clients and her serving staff, before sighing, her smile disappearing for a moment as she looked back out, at the cruel world they all lived in, the world that she tried so hard every day to keep out of her establishment, to let the people forget for even a single moment. The world that she and the people who worked for her were slowly, painstakingly, trying to push out of this city.

It was a futile battle, she knew it, but it was her dream, and for that impossible dream she would do anything. That was how she kept on Leveling. That was how she managed, every day, to smile.

It was, in her opinion, worth it, every time.

So she watched the girl go, and hoped that Albert would help her achieve what she desired. That, in the end, she would look at the world as it was and say ‘I want to change it’.

She would gladly have her among her friends.