18 – Alagenny’s Spire
The Iron and Ivy was, as Lisa had requested, “posh.” The front façade was marble and, as the name implied, decked in wrought iron embellishments around the windows, on the stairs, and around the doors that were well grown over with carefully manicured ivy vines. Inside, the theme continued. Glossy marble floors met Ward’s eye, veined with green like deep forest moss. Towering columns, each capped with tooled moldings of iron ivy leaves and tendrils, rose to a high, coffered ceiling.
Against one wall, a grand iron-and-brass fireplace crackled warmly, its mantel adorned with verdant ivy-like engravings that gave life to the metal. Plush leather armchairs sat in cozy clusters around low, marble-topped tables, where visitors sat, drinking tea or brandy, relaxing beneath the warm, amber glow of gas lamps.
Ward followed Haley over to the reception desk—a long counter carved from dark wood, its edges trimmed with more iron leaves. A woman in a neat, white dress and matching jacket stood waiting, her eyes bright as Ward stepped forward. “Hello, fine sir! How might I help you? Are you seeking lodging, or are you here to meet with one of our guests?”
“Ahem.” Haley stepped forward. “We’ll need a suite.” She glanced at Ward, then back to the woman. “Two bedrooms if you have any available.”’
“Oh! I’m so pleased you came in; our Brasswood Retreat opened up just this morning! It’s a lovely set of rooms appointed, as you might guess, with rich, polished brass and fine hardwoods. We have it available for five hundred a night, and—”
“That’s a little more than we wanted to spend,” Ward interjected, smiling as he leaned closer. “We can take something a bit smaller, but two beds would be ideal.”
The woman looked from Haley to Ward, then back, and Haley nodded. “Of course, sir. Let’s see,” she turned the page of a thick leather-bound ledger, “the Elm Room is available—two comfortable beds and an adjoining bathroom. It has a lovely balcony overlooking Smith Street, though if you’re not an early riser, the sounds from the forges might be a bit of a—”
This time, Haley interrupted her, “We’re early risers.”
“Lovely. I can book you into the Elm for one hundred a night.”
Ward watched Haley count out the glories, feeling increasingly irritated with himself for spending all his money on the heavy gun hanging from his shoulder. So far, the weapon hadn’t paid off, but he supposed they’d yet to do any real “adventuring” since he bought it. If Lisa and Haley had their way, that was going to change very soon. A bellhop tried to help them with their packs, but Ward chased him off, and it wasn’t long before they walked into their third-floor room.
It was nice, if a bit cozy, but it was positively enormous compared to their cabin aboard the cargo ship. More importantly, it had a private bathroom with an oversized porcelain bathtub. “This is nice,” Ward said, walking around, feeling the thick pile of the carpet as he looked out the window toward “Smith Street.” He could see how the street got its name—he counted at least four weapon smiths, two armorers, and several “fabrication forges.”
“It’s nice, but I would’ve liked to see the Brasswood Suite.”
Ward looked at Haley, wondering if she was as irritated as she sounded. She sat on the foot of her bed, staring at the wall, her pale eyes dim under her glowering brows. “Hey, five hundred a night would eat through your stack of glories pretty damn fast.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Could’ve done a night or two.”
Grace chimed in, suddenly there, standing in the doorway to the bathroom, “I think Ward’s feeling guilty about relying on your money, Haley.”
Haley looked at him sideways. “Is that true?”
“Yeah! Of course, it is. I feel like an asshole spending all my money on this gun.”
“Well, I’m not an idiot, Ward. I wouldn’t spend all of our coins on hotel rooms. If things weren’t looking up, we could move to a cheaper inn. We still can if we don’t make some glories soon. Anyway, don’t feel guilty! I wouldn’t have this money if not for you. I’d be dead at the hands of one assassin or another sent by my rotten cousin. Those mercenaries, for instance, who chased us to Applegrass would’ve taken my bearer shares if you hadn’t helped me fight them off.”
Ward slowly nodded, not wanting to belabor the issue. “Anyway, I might be cash-poor, but I’ve got a few ways to make some money if things get dire.” Ward was talking about the mana-well and his words of power; if he could find another sorcerer in Westview—not a problem, according to Lisa—he was sure he could sell them for a fortune. Not that he wanted to. No, Ward had fallen far too hard into the game of trying to learn more magic without giving his away. He understood the allure of the power and also the desire not to give that power to others.
“You don’t mean the artifact, do you?”
Ward turned away from the window, frowning at Haley. “The one in the box? C’mon, you don’t think I’d sell that to someone, do you?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry.”
“I think Haley’s due for some Gopah practice,” Grace remarked.
“Oh, please!” Haley sighed. “Can I never be a little negative without you two deciding my corruption is taking root?”
“She’s got a point, Grace. No one’s upbeat all the time.” Ward unclasped his sword belt, sighing with relief as the all-too-familiar weight came off his hips. He’d been wearing it more and more—at Lisa’s insistence—but he didn’t think it would ever feel comfortable. He set it on the trunk next to Blazewitch and, after regarding the weapons for a moment, asked, “What kinds of supplies should we get if we’re going into that spire?”
Before parting ways with Lisa, they’d confirmed with the doorman at the inn that the next auction for living ship berths wasn’t for another eleven days. With that kind of wait ahead of them, Lisa had proposed they venture into the spire, offering the caveat that they could always leave after the first level or two if it wasn’t for them. Ward felt the urge to do something, so he’d been receptive to the idea, and Haley didn’t need any convincing.
“Well,” Haley answered, nudging her pack with her foot. “I’ve got lots of equipment—rope, a lantern, oil flasks, tinder, a compass, blank pages, and pencils. You’ve got your weapons, your armor, and your spells. I’d say we need some food like sardine tins, hard tack, and watered wine. We need a new batch of healing tonics, but I’ve got two jars of salve.”
Ward nodded. “Matches my line of thinking pretty well.” He looked toward the door and then, in the least demanding voice he could muster, asked, “Do you think you’re going to do more Gopah practice today? The receptionist said they had a garden on the roof. I could go out and buy supplies.”
“I’ll go out with you. We can stop for a bite, and then, when we get back, I’ll do my Gopah.” She looked at him sideways, arching one eyebrow. “Would that be all right?”
Grace laughed, but she sighed heavily when the moment of levity passed. “I wish I didn’t have to hide so much, but these crowds are so thick. It really brings back memories of old London. I don’t think I should risk getting caught out and about; if you listen to Lisa, I wouldn’t be surprised to find more ‘orders’ out there dedicated to hunting…things people don’t understand.”
“Could they hurt you?” Haley asked.
“Not easily, but they could hurt Ward.” She heaved another dramatic sigh and added, “It’s fine. I can still see and hear everything through Ward.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Ward snorted and began unpacking his pack, using one of the two armoires against the far wall. While he sorted his clothes, putting his dirty shirts and undergarments into a pile, Haley called out, her voice a little muffled, “There’s a safe in this closet, Ward!”
Ward turned toward her and saw that she’d found a door in the short hallway leading to the room’s exit. He hadn’t even registered the door as he’d entered. “Oh yeah? Combination or—”
“There’s a key!”
“Okay, well, we can stow the artifact and some of your money in there, yeah?”
Grace hopped down from the window sill. “With any luck, the inn has decent security.”
“Hopefully,” Ward agreed. After sorting their belongings and locking away their valuables, Ward and Haley went shopping. Lisa hadn’t been lying about the city feeling different in this “upper” district compared to the docks. Foot traffic was lighter, people were more pleasant and better dressed, and the vehicles in the cobbled streets were well-maintained. The biggest game changer for Ward, though, was the smell. In that part of town, the sewers were underground, not just gutter channels beside the sidewalks, and, as Lisa had promised, the prevailing breeze seemed to carry the smog and other smells south and east, away from the upper districts.
They found a small market square not far from the inn and made their purchases. Ward saw boots in the window of a cobbler that he wanted to buy—fancy cowboy-style boots made of some exotic hide, but he kept it to himself, afraid Haley would try to be overly generous with her money again. They weren’t the only potential purchase to catch his eye; he saw a supple leather duster, some hats, fine knives, and a display of “gentleman’s armor” that almost drew him into a store called “Leopold’s Accoutrements for the Adventuring Nobleman.”
Haley wanted to eat anything other than fish; they’d had their fill of seafood at Captain Lemon’s table over the last week. That decided, they ate at a place that served sauce-covered noodles that almost reminded Ward of Italian food if he ignored the faint, lingering aftertaste of unfamiliar spices. With full bellies and a faint buzz for Ward, they’d returned to the inn, and while Ward sat down to memorize some spells, Haley went to find the rooftop garden.
“What spells are you preparing?”
“Well, my knife is enchanted, and the sword can’t be enchanted, so I’ll prepare True Strike in case I have to throw my knife or something.” Ward had tried to enchant one of Blazewitch’s shells, but it didn’t work. He thought maybe he could enchant a regular bullet, but because Blazewitch’s shells were fully enclosed, he couldn’t get the spell to find purchase on any of the inner projectiles or incendiary materials. He figured that with a weapon so undiscerning, it didn’t really matter. Anything in front of the barrel was going to get hit, with or without enchantments.
“What else?”
“Reveal Secrets. I figure it might help on the, uh, puzzle floors.”
“Good idea. And?”
Ward sighed. On the ship, he’d tried to memorize as many spells as possible, but with True Strike and Reveal Secrets in his head, he could only manage to squeeze one more in there. “I mean, Lisa’s coming, so I’ll leave her two spells to her for now. I think I’ll do Shadow Step.”
“It could be very helpful in a pinch,” Grace nodded, “if the lighting is right.”
Ward chuckled. “Yeah, the lighting is a factor. Worst comes to worst, if it’s too bright, I’ll shoot Blazewitch at whatever light source there is.”
“I hope you’re not making a mistake bringing that cannon. I still wish you’d found a suitable handgun.”
Ward tapped his fingers on his grimoire in contemplation. “Give it some time. I’ll look around the city while we’re here, assuming we make some money in the spire. I doubt I’ll find anything great, but I figure one of the higher worlds might have better weapons.”
“I wish I knew more about the higher worlds.” Suddenly, Grace snapped her fingers and stooped to put her face in front of Ward’s. “You should see if there’s a library or bookshop we can visit!”
“All right, all right, I will. Give me a little space, would ya?”
Their night was uneventful, and in the morning, they met Lisa, as planned, in the hotel’s restaurant for breakfast. Haley was in a chipper mood, having risen early to do her Gopah drills before bathing and getting ready for the day. When she sat down with a stack of buttered, jam-slathered toast and half a dozen small pork sausages, she grinned at Lisa. “Are you ready?”
Ward could see the answer before Lisa replied; the woman was dressed in a set of her “adventuring” robes—similar to the ones she’d worn back in the catacombs. They were layered, made of sturdy material, and cut just below the tops of her knee-high leather boots. Besides that, she’d stepped out of her coach holding her soft leather backpack and wearing her rapier. She was ready.
“I am! My cousin sent a runner over to the spire last evening, ensuring there wouldn’t be any holdup. They confirmed my recollection, though; the spire’s always open. The most we’ll have to wait is if a group arrives ahead of us—they’ll need to climb the first flight of stairs. Once they pass the first doorway, they’ll be separated by the spire’s magic from other entrants.”
“How many groups can it accommodate?” Ward asked, mixing some chutney-type sauce into his eggs.
Lisa shrugged, her eyes fixed on Haley, watching the younger woman inhale her breakfast. “That I don’t know. I’m not sure a limit has been made public.”
“And the entrance fee?” Haley asked around a mouthful of sausage.
“More than I thought—five hundred glories per entrant.”
“Shit,” Ward sighed, mentally adding to the tally he already owed Haley.
“Do you need help covering—” Lisa began to ask, but Haley shook her head, thumping the table as she swallowed a large mouthful of food.
“N-no,” she finally choked out. “We’re fine.”
“Most people who exit the spire are out in less than a day; they reach a floor they feel content with and descend. Some people have been in for as long as a week. They say that, generally, if you’re not back within that window, you won’t be coming back. That said,” Lisa pointed toward the restaurant’s exit and the lobby of the inn, “I’m still willing to ask my cousin to watch your belongings so you don’t have to maintain your rooms here.”
Again, Haley shook her head. “That’s kind, Lisa, but I already paid for a week’s stay.” She’d confided in Ward that she didn’t like the idea of relying on strangers’ charity if she didn’t have to. He didn’t want to argue, but for a different reason: Lisa’s “colleagues” still wanted to get their hands on the relic in the metal box, and he wanted to keep control over that particular treasure.
“I’m sure they’d issue a refund—”
“No.” Haley smiled, wiping her mouth on a napkin. “I feel better this way.”
“Fair enough. Do we need to make any other stops, or shall we head straight to the spire? With luck, we’ll find some treasure and make our way out in record time.”
Ward knocked his knuckles against the wooden table. “How much luck? How many people go in and never come out?”
“Roughly half and, of those who come out, more than half are empty-handed, having barely survived a level or two.”
“That bad, huh? No wonder there’s not a waiting list.”
“There would be if the spire let a person enter more than once in a year—some people are very successful and would go right back in if they could.”
Ward arched an eyebrow. “Well, that’s very encouraging.”
Lisa nodded, smiling. “We’re in a good position with three people, too; the spire’s challenges scale, but it begins punishing groups of five or more.”
Haley cracked her knuckles and pushed her chair back. “I’m excited!”
“Shall we?” Lisa looked at Ward’s plate; it was clean.
“Yep.” He stood and led the way out to the lobby, where they’d left their packs and Blazewitch behind the reception counter. Ward had all of his belongings other than the sealed metal box. Haley had left behind most of her money. They hadn’t used the safe in their room, after all. Ward had given it a good look and found it flimsy, the lock easy to pick with just a piece of wire. Instead, they’d asked the hotel’s manager to store the artifact and Haley’s sack of thousand-glory coins in the hotel’s main safe.
Ward figured it was a risk leaving their stuff there, but not a huge one. The hotel had a good reputation, which wouldn’t last if the manager allowed his guests’ belongings to be stolen. So, with their packs on their shoulders, they left the inn and took a cab toward the western wall where, according to Lisa, Alagenny’s Spire rose above the city. As they rode, Ward watched out the window, waiting to catch a glimpse of it, and Haley asked, “Lisa, why’s it called Alagenny’s Spire?”
“That’s a question with an interesting answer. Alagenny was once a queen of these lands and many more besides. Queen Marisol Alagenny—she had a tragic ending. Her family held power a hundred leagues to the north through at least two burn cycles; they took shelter in natural caves. It was something like a thousand years ago. When she inherited the family throne, she took her armies south, seeking more fertile lands to farm. She and her army crossed the Fiendhollow Mountains, and they explored south to find lush forests, verdant hillsides, and the spire standing tall above the ruins of a former civilization.”
“And she moved in?” Ward guessed.
“Yes, she set up a new capital here and claimed the spire as a source of income. Even back then, travelers visited Cinder to find the challenges here.” She grew quiet for a while, and Ward, still watching out the window, caught his first glimpse of the spire. It rose above the nearby brick buildings, utterly alien in its design. To him, it was reminiscent of a gothic version of the Eifel Tower. It was made of dark metal, not quite black, but not gray—perhaps a very dark green. Its sloped sides rose to a point maybe a thousand feet in the air, and, judging by the buildings nearby, he guessed the base wasn’t much larger than the inn they’d just left.
“It doesn’t look all that big.”
“No, but it utilizes the same sorts of spatial magic that many of the challenges in the system employ. People speculate that there are many versions of the interior and that the stairways somehow move people between them.”
“Why,” Haley asked after a moment. When Lisa looked at her questioningly, she clarified, “Why was her life tragic?”
“Oh, Queen Alagenny? Well, it’s written that in a fit of depression, after her only child disappeared inside the tower, she stood for days outside, wailing and begging the ‘ancients’ to bring him back—to let him out. When the spire ignored her pleas, she entered and was never seen again.”