“Alright.” The pimply young solicitor said, pen scratching on paper as he took down Bernt’s report. “So, the shade had a three-dimensional shape in the darkness? It was standing up?”
Bernt fidgeted, his arm bumping into a wall in the cramped, broom closet sized office at the Solicitors’ temporary offices in the Crafters’ Quarter. Their building in the Lower District was still undergoing repairs.
“Yes.” he confirmed. “That’s what I said.”
“But it couldn’t hold it in the presence of a torch? And you’re sure it attacked you?”
“Yes, I’m sure – it went directly for my face!” Bernt insisted, failing to keep the exasperation from his voice. He’d come to try to talk to Radast or anyone who would actually be able to do something with the information that there were still enemy demons loose in Halfbridge. Instead, he’d been met with Finn, whose job, as far as Bernt could tell, was to keep the public away from anyone who mattered. He wasn’t even a warlock yet!
“Alright, perfect,” Finn said, signing the paper and inking some kind of stamp, which he pressed over the signature. “Thank you for your report. I’ll file it right away and get that taken care of for you.”
“Are you kidding me?” Bernt glared at him. “There’s a shadowy demon that can pass through walls after me, and I’m supposed to just wait around for the paperwork to process?! What if it comes back?”
Finn shrugged uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, that’s really all I can do. A shade that can’t manifest properly in torchlight conditions is a class two or three at best. It wouldn’t have been corporeal enough to seriously injure you. Shades are spies and agents of terror, but we’ve never recorded one below class four actually killing anyone.”
Bernt grunted and narrowed his eyes at his opponent. As an experienced public servant, Bernt knew exactly what would happen to his report if he simply accepted defeat here and left. It would get filed at the bottom of a pile somewhere in the basement, where it would remain until it disintegrated. His report wasn’t interesting or threatening enough to the public to merit an immediate response.
At any other time, he was sure this would have been one of the most exciting things to happen to the Halfbridge Solicitors all year. But they were still picking up the pieces from the battle themselves, and they’d been fighting demons all over the city for weeks while the Duergar were here. Right now, today, a single straggler probably just wasn’t enough to rate a proper response. But Bernt was sure there was more to it. During the siege, the shades had acted as spies. So, why break cover now? As far as he knew, none of them had directly attacked anyone.
“You know, it was still trying to reach me after it lost its shape.” Bernt tried. “Doesn’t that seem unusual to you? Why would a secret spy reveal itself to take a shot at me if it didn’t think it would work?”
“That… is kind of strange.” Finn admitted, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t know –”
“Just take that report to someone who can do something with it and let them make the call, alright?” Bernt insisted. “Go on. I’ll wait.”
He could practically see the young Solicitor waffling as he weighed the risk of irritating his superior against the opportunity to make him someone else’s problem. He wished Josie were still here. She could have gotten him right through to Radast immediately, he was sure.
What would Iriala say here? There had to be a way to get through this guy. Clearing his throat, Bernt gave it his best shot.
“Look, I’m not just going to drop this, alright? I understand if the Solicitors have higher priorities, but if you can’t help me, I’m just going to go to the Temple District. Maybe the Temple of Noruk? I heard the Invigilation is coming back, so maybe they should be handling these cases again, anyway. They'll probably want to prove themselves anyway, after how little they contributed to the battle. They'll want to prove that they're still relevant, right?”
The Solicitors’ legitimacy as an organization was tied to their mandate to control demon activity in Besermark. Seeing the Temples act in the name of the Invigilation at all must be a serious concern for them. If the temples were to actually take over the day-to-day responsibilities of the Solicitors, it would threaten their reason to exist as an institution in the eyes of the crown. Sure, it wouldn’t mean anything today, but who was to say that the Temples wouldn’t seize on the idea if it were brought to their attention? Now, as long as Finn was aware of all that...
The novice Solicitor scowled at him sourly.
A few minutes later, Bernt found himself stepping into the office of Finn’s boss, whose name was Ewa according to the sign on her door. He froze when he entered and saw who it was, but carefully kept his expression under control. She was the same elderly, gray-haired Solicitor who he’d seen spreading rumors about Jori in the Temple District. Great.
“Underkeeper Bernard,” she greeted him formally as Finn left, closing the door behind him. “Please recount the details of your encounter for me.”
Bernt cleared his throat. “I believe you’ll find all the details in the report that Finn compiled. He was pretty thorough.”
What was the point of writing up a report if they weren’t even going to read it?
“Nonetheless, please humor me,” Ewa replied flatly.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Suppressing his irritation, Bernt explained what had happened, making sure to emphasize the tenacity of the demon.
“It was clearly still trying to reach me right up until I started to conjure banefire,” he finished, as the Solicitor nodded along.
“I see,” she said, jotting some notes down into the margins of Finn’s report. “You’re right, the circumstances of your encounter are unusual, as such things go. I’ll put someone on it today and let you know what we find.”
Bernt ground his teeth, but he managed to keep his tone relatively mild. “Is that all you can do?”
Ewa nodded matter of factly. “For now, yes. Catching a shade takes time. Besides, Finn was correct in his assessment of the demon’s strength. Regardless of its aggression, the only injuries you might have suffered if it had managed to get its claws into you would have been psychological. Even then, you’d have recovered in days.”
“I see…” Bernt said, trying to sound professional. Should he keep pushing? Radast already disliked him, so there was no point in trying to be friends, but he didn’t actually want to antagonize the Solicitors. Sure, he wanted answers, but he didn’t want to come across as someone who jumped at shadows, either.
“I look forward to hearing from you, then,” he excused himself. “Thank you for seeing me.”
What could this mean? He needed to get to the Mages’ Guild and start his day. Still, whatever the Solicitors told him, he wasn’t going to let his guard down until this shade problem was taken care of. As he left, he conjured a torch spell over his shoulder, just to be safe.
***
Uriah sat in the break room of the new Underkeepers’ Headquarters and sipped on a hot beverage – some kind of tea. Fiora had let him sleep in one of the empty back rooms of the huge complex. She’d offered him his old job back, too, but he wasn’t so sure he wanted to take it.
It was strange, seeing so many new faces mixed in with the occasional familiar ones. Kustov was sitting at a table with an old goblin woman, a human and a younger goblin who was missing a few fingers on the hand he held his cup with, chatting as if they were lifelong friends. And Ed was gone. Probably forever, if the rumors were true and all he had to get him back here was the word of Bernt’s nasty little imp.
“A lot has changed around here,” he commented to Yarrod, who was digging into his lunch. “What do you make of it?”
Uriah had always liked the gnome. Most of the others seemed to resent their position as Underkeepers on some level, and it made them unpleasant company to work with. Yarrod hadn’t volunteered for the job any more than Dayle and Fiora, but he’d accepted his lot, just as Uriah himself had done. It was useful work, and the pay was good. What was there to complain about? At least, until someone burned your city down around your ears.
Yarrod followed his gaze, his eyes briefly stopping on the goblins. “Oh, I believe they’re good sorts, for the most part,” he opined. “Most of the goblins moved down here, it’s only right that they step up in support of their community in matters of defense and security. I have been pleasantly surprised with respect to the incidence of crime in the Goblin Quarter. It is, frankly, better than what we see in the new Crafters’ Quarter. I can’t say I regret trading some of the sewer duties for security, myself.”
Uriah scratched at his chin, idly noting that he needed to shave. “I see. So they’re doing sewer work, too? Isn’t that dangerous? Underkeepers are mages for a reason. What do they do about mutants and slimes?”
Yarrod chuckled. “They have their own means – some of them. We have shamans now, a druid, a witch, and who knows what else. Their use of magic is crude, I grant you, but they work well enough for the purpose. Are you concerned that you might be relegated to clearing goblin septic systems full-time if you rejoin us? I can assuage your concerns in that regard – they handle it themselves.”
“It’s not that.” Uriah said, shaking his head. “I never minded the work. But no, I’m not so sure I want my job back. I came back to fight the demons! With Ed gone, I don’t know which direction it’s going to go around here.”
Yarrod shrugged. “We already won the battle here, I’d say. If you’re looking for a fight, you have to go where they’ll be next. Why don’t you try enlisting? Arice is still here, and I can’t imagine they’d turn down a hydromancer.”
Uriah grimaced. “Then you lack imagination, old friend. I’m stalled, and not a magister. Besides, what I have is the wrong kind of architecture for a war mage. I can’t adapt well anymore. They’d never take me.”
***
“Pff! You don’t need the endorsement of the crown to travel! Why don’t you just join the adventurers?” Kustov asked. “There are lots of parties with goblins out there nowadays, and you could travel all over the country.”
Nirlig grimaced ambivalently. “I don’t know… I don’t really like it. They’re basically just paid bandits, when you get right down to it. I don’t want to burn down a poor gnoll village just because they got into some farmer’s sheep. Being hungry isn’t a crime. Or it shouldn’t be, anyway.”
“The farmers would disagree. But you don’t have to take any quests you don’t want to, regardless.” Torvald argued. “Some people don’t fight at all, except in self defense. Aronard the herbalist just finds and retrieves rare plants for people, and he’s famous!”
“Sure,” Nirlig smirked wryly, “but finding rare and beautiful flowers for rich and lonely human noblewomen with nothing better to do isn’t a very good business model for a goblin.”
Torvald coughed and blushed a bit in embarrassment. “Right, that’s probably true.”
“What?! How can you know, if you will not try?” Lin said, cackling. “You are a very handsome boy, Nirlig.”
“Lin!” Nirlig squirmed uncomfortably. “No, I don’t think… and for humans? Ugh!”
“My mother told me the count is hiring the adventurers to provide security for our delegation to the Sacral Peaks.” Torvald interjected, taking pity on Nirlig and bringing the conversation back on track. “Maybe you could get a spot to come along!”
Nirlig gave him a skeptical look. “You think they’d take on someone with no record? I don’t even have a party!”
“Well, you won’t find out if you don’t try.” Torvald insisted. “You’re part of a city guard force, and you fought in a major battle. Besides, it’s a long way to travel and I doubt most adventurers around here will want to spend too much time on the road in winter – especially if the Duergar and their demons find out about this and start coming after us. It’s going to be dangerous.”
Nirlig grinned. “You’re just saying that because you feel bad about not getting me appointed as your legitimator. But, you’re right, that really doesn’t sound like a very good time. ”
Torvald opened his mouth to respond, but closed it again with a grimace. Nirlig was right.
“Excuse me,” said a voice behind him, just as someone tapped him on the shoulder. The paladin twisted in his seat to find that a serious-looking man in gray Underkeeper’s robes had approached their table. His eyes were fixed on him and burned with a kind of feverish intensity that reminded him oddly of Hannis, the high priest of Noruk. “Did you say you were going to fight demons?”