We did not, in fact, travel to the Town Hall.

  We crossed Aurelienth.

  What I had assumed would be a short ride became half an hour of unhurried progress through streets that refused to end. We took it slow, not because of traffic, but because the sheer density of the pce demanded it. There was too much to look at; too much to process.

  Districts bled into one another without the courtesy of walls, and markets transitioned into administrative quarters without narrowing. Even the poorer buildings—if such a thing existed here—were solid, permanent things, built as though the idea of colpse had been dismissed on principle.

  The Town Hall finally asserted itself at the end of the avenue. Anabeth let out a small, nervous ugh beside me. “Well, whatever business do we have here, Sir Knight?”

  “I must obtain an Aurelienth Civic Sigil Writ,” I decred, invoking my Schostic Arrogance. “This is not a matter of preference, convenience, or personal inclination. It is a foundational obligation of any civilian who dares to remain within the bounds of Rasn’s civic jurisdiction. The writ exists to impose order upon chaos, accountability upon anonymity, and wful structure upon the otherwise regrettable tendencies of the popuce.”

  She stared at me for a beat, then ughed again, a touch higher this time.

  “Of course. Of course!” she said. “How exceedingly conscientious of you.” She slid down from her mount with ease. “Please, do attend to your duties. I shall remain here and watch over your beautiful white steed. It would be a shame if someone were to disturb it.”

  My helm turned toward her with a slow inevitability. “You will enter with me.”

  [Intimidating Aura Initiated – Failed]

  [Target is Immune]

  She rubbed one shoulder and sniffed. “Ah, but you see, I am suffering from a terrible cold. Confined civic buildings had poor ventition, which would be positively disastrous. I would hate to infect the clerks. Or the magistrates. Or the ink.”

  She would not waver with just sheer intimidation. I must strike her where it hurt.

  “I would be supremely disappointed,” I said, “if you failed to perform the most basic civic duty required of a wful resident. Disappointment, I assure you, would be the least of the consequences.”

  [Intimidating Aura Initiated – Partially Successful]

  [Target Reluctant to Disappoint]

  She ughed again, thinner now. “Goodness. One can hardly argue with that, Sir Knight. I simply cannot displease you.” She gave a little nod. “Go on ahead. I shall only take a moment to adjust my attire. One cannot enter such a venerable civic institution looking... disheveled.”

  I was satisfied, so I turned and began toward the steps.

  Halfway up, a quiet warning crawled along my senses. I gnced over my shoulder.

  Anabeth was gone.

  Of course she had slunk off. I couldn’t even hear her footsteps.

  [Task Completed: Welcome to Aurelienth]

  Boon: +150 EXP

  Unlocked: Bounty Board Access — East Westris Region

  EXP: 3751/4500

  When I emerged again, the writ’s sigils were still glowing as it settled into permanence. The sun had dipped lower while I was inside, and Silvermane stood exactly where I had left her.

  Anabeth stood beside her. Carrying a small wicker basket looped casually over one arm, she had reappeared with the sort of confidence that suggested she had never left at all. On the other hand—quite literally—she was midway through a corn cob, teeth sunk in with unapologetic focus. She chewed with one cheek puffed out like a chipmunk, entirely unbothered by the image she was presenting.

  Ah, yes. She had said she liked corn.

  “Ah! There you are,” she said brightly as she finished chewing. “I was just thinking how dreadfully te it’s gotten. You must be starving.” She lifted the basket and peered inside. “I took the liberty of gathering a few things you seem to enjoy.” Then she took another gigantic bite and started chewing once more.

  Inside were corn, fruits and sweets, dried berries gzed with honey, more corn, candied nuts, soft-skinned fruit sliced and wrapped neatly in cloth, and even more corn. Everything smelled pleasant and seemed particurly expensive.

  She had, apparently, mistaken observation for understanding. I ate fruit and sweets not because I enjoyed them, but because they were all I had ever reliably had access to the past couple days. But I appreciated her making observations of me anyhow, and one could not reasonably compin about free food.

  Her hands dug through the basket until I could see the vial at the bottom. “And of course, your favorite slime juice! I’d taken the liberty to extract all the essence of marsh variants. It’s astonishingly nutritious for organisms capable of digesting it properly!”

  The odor reached me. My stomach performed an immediate and deeply pessimistic assessment of the situation. Dungeon slimes, at least, hadn’t smelled like anything. This smelled like... marsh. Stagnant water, rotting reeds, anaerobic decay. Perfectly unsafe for human consumption.

  [Vial of Marsh Slime Essence]

  Effect:

  30% — Exceptional Assimition:

  +5% Stamina Regeneration every minute for 20 minutes

  + Minor Toxin Resistance

  30% — Successful Assimition:

  + 3% Stamina Regeneration every minute for 10 minutes

  20% — Rejection Response:

  ? 10% Stamina for 15 minutes

  Mild nausea

  20% — Catastrophic Incompatibility:

  Instant Paralysis (30 seconds)

  ? 20% Stamina

  Note: Effects are determined upon ingestion. Repeated use might increase compatibility.

  What even is this? More probability? Ceralis seemed to have a particur fondness for substances that treated the consumer less like a person and more like an ongoing experiment.

  Still, I considered the distribution. Statistically speaking, it was a good gamble, and the upside was very significant. I could go on for minutes without tiring myself. Maybe this could be put to good use... providing I didn’t paralyze myself in the process.

  I accepted the basket with a stiff nod.

  If Ceralis had possessed the ability to communicate gratitude, I might have forgiven her for slinking away earlier.

  “Oh, don’t worry.” Anabeth took two deliberate steps away and busied herself with Silvermane’s reins, giving me a courtesy of privacy that felt uncomfortably intentional. “I know you value your secrecy, my good sir. Anyone worth knowing has at least one habit they prefer unseen.”

  It had not been difficult to notice how I turned away whenever I ate. Still, I had not thought myself obvious.

  I ate in silence, facing away from her and the square alike, quickly stuffing in an entire handful of berries so as to lower my visor earlier. I would peer into this Writ and the Bounty Board at a ter date. Right now, food first. Then I had documents about the Knighthood to recover.

  Night fell.

  The Grand Library I had been steering us toward finally rose out of the darkness. If the Westris Provisional Archives of Knightly Affairs still existed in any meaningful form, this was where they would be buried—deep among controlled knowledge, restricted access, and shelves no one browsed casually.

  The only problem was that the library had already closed. There was nothing to be done about it now, which left only one remaining practical concern.

  “We will find a tavern,” I said.

  Anabeth smiled. “Oh, good. I was beginning to worry you might try sleeping somewhere morally instructive.”

  Aurelienth at night was somehow even more overwhelming that it was during the day. The streetmps did not gutter as torches should; they held a steady white glow that never flickered as though sustained by magic. Inset along the avenues were channels of water that guided traffic without barriers or guards. Somewhere above, translucent glyph-panels drifted slowly between buildings, adjusting their glow to match the flow of pedestrians below. I saw storefronts closed behind panes of gss thicker than any window had a right to be. One street had no visible drainage at all; the drizzle that had fallen earlier simply never touched the ground, evaporating into a soft mist before it could stain the stone.

  The amount of aether required to sustain such inconsequential comforts must have been staggering. I could not imagine how many leylines fed this pce, or what reservoirs y hidden beneath it. That a city could afford to burn that much power on civic indulgence alone was beyond me.

  I caught myself staring at a broad-fronted building as we passed. The windows were tall, evenly spaced, and the roofline was clean. Sir Rond would’ve called it ‘living the life’ to stay a day in such a pce.

  “That,” I muttered, mostly to myself, “would make a fine pce to live.”

  “Oh! That’s a warehouse,” Anabeth chirped, pointing at it as if I’d admired a lovely hat. “They usually stockpile aethercaches in there.”

  I looked again. That’s a warehouse?

  “Pray tell, what is an aethercache?” I blurted.

  “Oh! Aethercaches are fascinating,” she said. “They’re crystal reservoirs designed to hold condensed aetheric leyline energy without letting it destabilize or bleed off into the surroundings. Think of them as pressure tanks, except instead of steam or water they contain aether in a semi-coherent state. Aurelienth sits close to several shallow leylines so the city condenses and stores it.”

  She kept going on, and on, and on about its industrial application, which of course eventually spiralled into how they could technically be used for construct summoning if one were willing to dismantle the containment framework and re-key the crystal facets individually.

  “But one shouldn’t do such a thing, as Aethercaches are somewhat expensive! One aethercache can trade for ten fine horses.”

  That’s somewhat expensive? What’s her idea of poverty then? Is she secretly the heir to the King of Rasn?

  That was when something detonated.

  A sharp concussive crack that did not belong to thunder, masonry, or any sane form of civic architecture resounded. Then, a pressure wave rippled down the avenue, rattling shutters and setting the glyph-panels above into a frantic stutter.

  What was that? Did Saint Merin just cut his toenail?

  Anabeth yelped.

  I had just enough time to register a fre of light before a spark of raw aether flown from somewhere ahead and shed across the street.

  It kissed the side of my helm.

  My vision white-lined for half a heartbeat.

  [WARNING: Aetheric Exposure Detected]

  [Source: Unfiltered Leyline Discharge — Urban Storage Css]

  [Integrity Holding]

  Silvermane shied beneath me, bunching her muscles in a sharp sideways jolt. I tightened my knees and hauled the reins in by instinct, grounding her before the panic could turn into a bolt.

  Another muffled boom followed, smaller this time.

  [Task Received: Civic Hazard — Aethercache Breach]

  Objective: Identify the cause of the aethercache explosion and prevent further destabilization.

  Optional: Minimize civilian harm. Preserve cache integrity where possible.

  Rewards:

  +100–300 EXP (Contribution-Based)

  +1–3 RES if accompanied by Anabeth (Path of the Earthen Aegis Bonus)

  Optional Reward: Aura Farming (Lv1)

  New Feature: Aura Market

  Note: Prolonged or direct exposure to pure aether may result in additional AP and/or RES gains.

  I exhaled slowly.

  Of course. Ten horses per crystal, and someone had apparently decided to experiment.

  Anabeth sucked in a sharp breath. “Aethercache explosions are among the most dangerous civic failures, Sir. They will draw attention. We should—”

  “—Investigate,” I cut in. Schostic Arrogance activated automatically as I recited the teaching of Saint Merin. “By the sworn duty of the Knight of Saint Merin, whose charge it is to interpose order between camity and the innocent; by the Covenant of Civic Safeguard, ratified in ash and blood after the Third Leyfall; and by the simple, necessary principle that someone must act before matters worsen... we must investigate the site of breach at once.

  She smiled, radiant. “Oh, of course, but—”

  “Do not attempt to slink off.”

  Her smile was less radiant now.