Chapter 20: Kazar (2/2)
Like the guards, she wore a leather jerkin. The blade to her side was clearly of superior quality, however, and she was clean, with her dark brown hair held in a sensible ponytail that popped out of the back of her helmet. She immediately zeroed in on Viv.
[Investigator, dangerous, follows a path concerned with ferreting out the truth.]
So she would get the interrogation that Cernit had tried to spare her.
The woman stopped at a polite distance and bowed deeply. She was smiling, but her eyes were not.
The sergeant mentioned something about Old Imperial and the woman nodded, cleared her throat, and addressed Viv.
“Ahem, greetings, caster, and welcome to the city of Kazar. I am prime investigator Tars. We do not often get visiting mages here, especially not one with such a, ah, an interesting baggage so to speak. Would you mind answering a few questions? Nothing too intrusive I assure you,” she continued.
Viv was used to protocols and whatnot. If casters were truly dangerous, it made sense to check them out before they entered your city. Besides, if she didn’t tolerate arbitrary bullshit, she would have never joined the army.
“Yeah, fine. I understand. Here?”
“Would you care to join me in the guardhouse? It would be more comfortable than here. Good sergeant Elimi will keep an eye on your belongings and your… drake?”
“Sure. Yeah. Let’s go.”
She stood up heavily and felt short of breath. The sergeant came and put her harness around his shoulders while the woman offered to take her accreditation. They moved in with Viv trying not to spill her glass.
The insides of the city were not exactly a surprise. A road made of packed earth led inward, disappearing in a corner. Two large structures lined the gates on both sides, all in the same white as the walls themselves. She could spot the wings of a windmill in the distance, as well as a tower at the top of the hill and the crown of a large tree just by it. They moved immediately left in what she assumed was a guard house.
“I wait here,” the sergeant informed her as he pushed her sled against the wall under the vigilant gaze of Arthur. The tiny creature was getting more used to humans, it seemed.
Viv followed the investigator into the shadows.
The interior of the guardhouse contained an actual lobby complete with a desk and a mousy man with a large moustache calculating stuff on an actual abacus. Or at least it looked like that to her. He blinked at her sight, then answered a request from the investigator who handed him her mercenary accreditation. The man sighed heavily and took out a blank piece of paper from a drawer.
The other woman led Viv to a side door and into something that was clearly an office. There was a desk with an honest-to-God potted plant on it. As expected, it was not looking fresh. She also noticed several trinkets, like a bracelet with wood pearls on it. She collapsed in the guest chair.
“Sorry for the trouble. I will ask the questions and then leave you in peace. You must be impatient to find a place to rest.”
“Indeed.”
Viv appreciated the good cop routine, even if it was all bullshit to push her to lower her defense. She considered what she should reveal, and decided that she would stick with the teleportation incident story while hiding that she was an outlander. She did not want to attract even more attention to herself.
“Where are you from? Your, ah, features are not local.”
Well she did not look like she got part of her energy from photosynthesis, that was damn sure.
“France. A very distant land.”
“How did you get here then?”
“Teleportation accident, as far as I can tell. I woke up in the deadlands.”
Something flashed in the Prime Investigator’s eyes. Viv would not tell a falsehood. As the daughter of a politician, she knew how to use truth to mislead and manipulate. You just had to carefully curate it.
“You woke up in the deadlands and managed to survive?” the woman exclaimed, impressed.
“My black affinity is very high. It allowed me to survive long enough to be found by lieutenant Cernit. The one who hired me as a mercenary.”
“Oh yes, your authentication document. A good thing that he gave you that. It will make our paperwork much easier. Next question, then, do you intend to pursue criminal activities in Kazar?”
Silence. Heavy, awkward silence.
“Seriously?”
“Please just answer the question, lady caster.”
“No, I do not intend to break any law.”
“Excellent! Thank you. Do you currently harbor any grudges towards residents of Kazar?”
“I don’t even fucking know who lives here.”
“Right! First time on Param, haha. Right. Sorry. Do you, ah, practice necromancy?”
“No.”
“Good. Great! That’s all of it. Would you like to stay and finish your klod? I’ll check to see if your entry papers are ready, then you can be on your way. Ah, but maybe the guard captain will want to meet with you at some point. We only have one other caster here, you see? Despite the proximity with the deadlands. Anyway, I’m going.”
Viv nodded in silence and drank more of her stuff, then she sat down in her seat and relaxed. Even if the guards tried something, Solfis still had a minute of battery. He would paste the bastards.
She closed her eyes.
Tars walked out of the room and recalled what she had seen.
[Black Witch, very dangerous.
Smart, killer, undead bane, on the rise, occulted,
Condition: exhausted, poisoned, soul wound]
That was the weirdest bird ever to enter the city, even with mercenaries and mages and Church champions occasionally coming in from their deployments for a little recreation. There was more than enough there to justify caution. Smart was strange for a witch, whose reliance on intuition when casting meant that they usually forewent traditional education. It was the path of wild talents. That was the first anomaly. The woman had skill, but she was not wild. Far too composed. She was not nervous, just guarded, like someone who had experience with handling official enquiries. She even showed that small pause before answering, the one that some people used when they took the time to articulate or check their answers.
That was another.
Killer meant that she had personally taken human lives. Again, nothing necessarily sinister, but it did warrant caution.
Occulted happened when something blocked her advanced inspection skill. There would be a sense of being blocked, of her usual magic not functioning to its full ability. There could be many causes. One more weird detail to add to the pile.
Her story was a weird one too. And she was clearly a foreigner. Tars had never seen eyes that color. Perhaps they were glamoured to look different?
And what was it with the golem construct and the tiny drake? A tamer as well?
Also, teleportation. It was legendary magic that only happened in popular stories, or tales of faraway land and mighty old magic.
She shook her head, it did not matter. The woman had been truthful, so she had no reason to go and annoy the tired spellcaster for free. A wounded soul clearly required serious treatment.
She would make a report but let the woman go. Let the sleeping dreadhounds lie.
“Are you done yet? That caster is gonna fall asleep on my desk,” she asked the desk louse in charge of admission. His name was Jekt and he was a small-minded shitstain.
“Oh, I am sorry, I did not realize that an entry permit was more important than the budget for the entire next year,” the accountant answered sweetly.
She could not let that go. She grabbed the little ratwolf by the scruff.
“Not pissing off the black witch is more important than your bean-counting, and don’t you forget it. I know that you came from some turd-covered mudhole out in the boonies, so I’ll spell it out for you. Don’t. Annoy. Casters. You’ll live longer. And keep all your limbs.”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s done.”
She checked the paper, then he sanded it to soak up excess ink. The delivery happened without incident, with the witch staring absent-mindedly out of the barred window.
“Do you need direction?” she continued in Old Imperial. It was lucky that the artefacts and language of Harrak had travelled far and wide, including to that ‘France’ kingdom she had mentioned.
“Yes. I need rest.”
Yeah, you do.
“Sergeant Elimi will lead you to the compound of the Church of Neriad. They have beds for passing agents. Unless, of course, you wish to relax in a more pleasant setting?”
“Pleasant setting would be nice.”
Tars was not certain that the Spotted Feather would match her taste. It was still the best ‘inn’ in a two hundred leagues radius.
“I’ll make sure he takes you there.”
Tars guided the woman out. She looked about ready to keel over, but the sergeant was already there and he agreed to escort her readily. She trusted Elimi to bring the woman to her destination. He was a good sort.
They left, and she headed towards the town hall. Captain Corel would want to know about this.