There was alcohol in the baths, just none for me. The attendants said that it looked like I’d already had enough. Bunch of do-nothing incompetents…

I took a sip of posca instead as I reclined in the heated pool. After more than an hour, my thoughts were clearer, and I now realized that drinking that half a bottle of Opal gin in one go was not my greatest decision. It started with one sip in the buttery, but the more I drank, the better I’d felt. On the bright side, I realized I had one friend here, alcohol, and she did not disappoint. Unlike mer women. I shivered, remembering the joke my brother had played on me in Muria. Quickly I took another sip of posca to erase that vivid memory, ugh, some things, and tastes, just couldn’t be unremembered.

The mer weren’t too bad of a bunch. A tad too sensitive to insults, even well-earned ones. Most humans considered them mistakes, like the pinnae, kobs, and guines, when in fact they were the only true success of that lot. With the attributes of both humanity and marine life, they were well suited for aquatic combat, and the only reason that any cities could be maintained on the coast. The pinnae were humans bedecked with six resplendent, white feathery wings, they could glide, but not truly fly. They looked heavenly, but were actually weaker than average humans. The guines, were useful, but their appearance and eccentricities made them little better than monsters.

Now kobs. I smiled wistfully, remembering the few I’d seen in Sapphire. They only grew three feet tall, and could be best described as dogs that stood on their hind legs and could think, at the level of a child. They wore clothing and occasionally armor, and were the happiest beings in the world. Vivacious, so full of life that they instantly loved anyone. They were an incredible species, especially to a child.

I took a long drink of posca as I sighed, now they were mistakes. One the other worlders graciously gifted us. While the mechanics of their origins were simple enough, the why still perplexed me. I gagged for a moment, picturing an other worlder with one of those mangy, dirt-caked, rot smelling gnolls. Gods, the mer were at least half human.

Looking up from my distasteful revery, I made sure my fellow bathers were keeping their distance. The Bath was actually an immense chamber filled will pools ranging from five-foot to two-hundred-foot square cisterns, the temperatures all varying. I had known that the basement extended beyond the floor plan of the Spire itself, but now I suspected that its boundaries consisted of the outermost walls. Multiple foldable screens were arranged in varying fashions, and could be manually moved for privacy if so desired.

I lounged alone in my twenty-foot pool, allowing the low heat from the water to ease the tension from my body. It was nice that the Spire contained two baths, the hamlets all had at least one. For some reason the other worlders always thought us filthy, unwashed brutes. While traveling, or in the army, sometimes you had to go without a bath, but no one preferred to be in such a state. Even the poor were allowed access to bath houses, hygiene was important to stop the spread of disease.

The private water mages’ Bath, that Jolene, Juphista, Juju maybe, suggested was of course far more elaborate than the public one I had visited on the second floor. For senior mages the bath was a privilege of rank, whereas others like myself had to be invited. Which was understandable as the waters overflowed with energy, rapidly refilling my SP.

I glanced around one final time before deciding to get serious, I knew that men, much less women, were keen on being unhelpful to me. My instructor, who certainly possessed at least a nickname, or Agrippina had some scheme, but I still couldn’t waste this opportunity.

I used my wand to experiment while I bathed. Some gave me curious glances as I continuously launched waves and shapes against the wall nearest, but they let me be. In the beginning I had performed simple manipulations, a small wave here, a tendril of water, or just seeing how far I could sense things in the water. However now that my mind wasn’t as muddled, best to bring it up a notch. I formed a pathetic sphere, then focused on applying equal pressure to all sides and angles. My arcane was sent to my hand, through the wand, and to the water.

There was a dull feeling as the blob constricted into a proper sphere. I mumbled angrily, there was a detached sensation, as though my magic wasn’t really my own. I kept up the sphere for a while before deciding for a different approach. The water fell silently towards the bath as I retracted my arcane, only to stop inches from the surface as I resumed. My left hand tingled as I sent my arcane purely through my body. The water easily floated up, forming an almost flawless sphere. The discomfort in my chest was extremely small, but it was there.

Ignoring it, I formed a cube, my hands performing numerous sculpting motions. The edges still sputtered as I had to recycle the water back into the shape. Dropping all thought, all emotion, I focused only on the shape. The sputtering slowed to a trickle. The cube’s sides were slightly concave, so I eased the pressure. When they became flush, I added the tiniest amount of compression I could, and the shape stayed! Grunting in satisfaction, I held the shape for ten minutes before I again felt the pain in my heart.

I let the cube fall as I focused on the issue at hand. My affinity was better utilized without a staff or wand, so why did it harm me? It wasn’t nearly as bad as when I kept practicing after exhausting my SP, but I still felt it. Everyone used a staff or wand, but it felt impersonal to me. When I used my arcane without any tools, sometimes I could feel not just my arcane, but whatever it was interacting with. Agrippina may have been right, as no matter how much I used my wand or staff, it couldn’t compare to my abilities without. Though the damage to my soul…

I had to push through, come what may. If what I gathered from Mintha was true, things were going to get bad. Every so often the Republic decided that certain places or areas had too many other worlders, or just troublemakers, and decided to deal with them the easiest way possible, special quests. Better known as fools’ errands.

While there were genuine quests, those had high rewards matching the difficulty. There were also simpler notices dubbed tasks that were far easier, and survivable. Fool’s errands were suicidal quests whose major rewards were renown and acclaim, i.e. things you could not deposit nor withdraw from an epistle.

Breathing in deeply, I raised another glob of water, readying to try me hands at a pyramid. The flat square base was easy enough, making the four sloping sides and sharp apex proved harder. Just as I was nearing a chaotic, swooshing mediocrity, a man wrapped in a towel approached, stopping ten feet away. The hell? Everyone left their clothes at the door, showered, and entered the baths naked, what was this guy playing at? Surely not someone afraid to be naked, or did he have a weapon?

The man looked at me, before modestly turning his head. Slowly his grip on the towel loosened, allowing his covering to dramatically fall to the floor. The man was solid, well-toned muscles covering every inch of his body which only complimented his handsome countenance. He shrugged his shoulders, before incidentally raising his hands and doing a naked poise, facing me. The pyramid I had been attempting fell, Gods, what new hell was this?

The man approached the edge of the pool, before carefully alighting. He laid back, purposely not looking at me. I stared a little longer before reaching for a knife, that was not there. Damn attendants, I’d seen one woman with a little rubber ducky, how was that any different from my blades or spear? It had to be favoritism...

Cautiously, I went back to making a pyramid, smaller this time in case I needed to act. Base, set, sides, mostly set, apex, none-existent.

“Wow, you’re really good!” he exclaimed, moving closer to me.

“Evening, something I can help you with?”

“Oh, just taking a load off, you wouldn’t mind if I joined you?”

Steadily he closed the distance, eventually sitting right beside me. Running was a poor choice, most everyone here had a water affinity, I’d be easily dragged back in. Did that woman set this up to kill me? I tensed, surprised at my assassin’s calm and lack of foresight. As he stared at me, he failed to notice the tendril of water that slowly stretched out from the pool behind him. A messy orb began to take shape at the top.

“You know, I was thinking we could be friends, good friends.”

The orb opened and parted, forming a rough hand with five misshapen, outstretched, fingers.

I smiled, as politely as I could, and said “Not to be rude, but… Don’t touch me.”

His smile faded and he quickly took back his arm, “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean any offense; we should get to know each other first.”

His reaction looked genuine, confusing me even more. The hand was larger and better formed now, the stem connecting it to the pool half as thick as a normal arm. It was tantalizingly close to seizing his neck…

“And what would be the purpose of that?” why wasn’t he attacking me?

“Well, uh, I thought you looked nice and…”

Silently I groaned, wanting to say a name to gauge his reaction, but I already knew that Obelisk would mean nothing to him. I held the construct in place. There was only one appropriate response in this situation, assuming he wasn’t lying.

“I don’t know who you talked to, but I like women.”

“Oh, Gods, I, I’m…” his face flushed deep red.

I raised my palm, putting on my most disarming smile, “No, no. No need for that, an honest mistake my man. Tell you what, how about we pretend this never happened and… Go our separate ways?”

I allowed the hand to silently fall back into the water, though I kept its shape beneath the surface, just in case. The fellow nodded rapidly to my suggestion, before getting out of the pool and heading for the exit. I sighed, reclining once again. So that’s what this was… I felt a bit sorry for him, just another useful idiot. I frowned, imagining if I had attacked first. You always had to be ready for violence, but equally careful in how you dished it out. Killing people was in fact easy, but there were consequences.

Someone punched you in the face, or insulted you, you gave back as good as you were able. Only after a certain threshold would things pass the point of no return. I’d been backhanded by strangers, returning the favor when I could, but to kill a man for such a thing? That in itself was petty, now if they backhanded and slapped me… That was an official challenge, and while you could back down, it did not behoove your image.

Killing people wasn’t something that many let weigh on their soul, though your actions represented not merely yourself, but your family as well. Depending upon how serious your crimes were, the household you belonged to could be punished as well. Sure, someone might shank you in the woods, but odds were your body wouldn’t be found and no one the wiser. Certainly there would be suspicions and reprisals from the victim’s friends and family, but not the authorities.

With other worlders it was easier, and harder at the same time. Once you slit their throats, you had to bring their bodies to the nearest town guards, no matter what. This resulted in everyone knowing what you’d done. The Spire was far smaller, meaning that if I killed Kevin the additional other worlders would quickly find out. I wasn’t afraid of them, but if they attacked en masse, the outcome would not be in my favor.

There were few ways around this stipulation, as the officials had some damned magic that recorded whoever killed the other worlder or even had been near the body before they died. This magic was only used for other worlders, and the specifics around it were never revealed.

I raised another large orb of water, best to get back to work. After ten minutes I had a decent enough pyramid, and raised another splotch of water to try two at once. The warmth from the pool, perspiration from my efforts, and ridiculous difficulty of it all, masked the soft footsteps that approached.

“Well, looks like you’re advancing, and without a staff.”

I refused to stop now, the smaller pyramid almost having three sloping and one absent side now, “Evening, Vice Dean, I was wondering whether you or…” Yssette, Ylt, Yggsil?, “…would be in next.”

There was a soft rippling as she sat to my left on the wall of the pool, her legs crossed, calves in the water. Her breasts were surprisingly perky, her skin uniformly close to chalk, Gods woman, get some sun.

Four almost sides now, come on, just the peak, we’re getting so close…

“You know, I honestly thought that’s what it was. That you didn’t favor women, but now, come to find out, it’s even worse, isn’t it?” she uncrossed her legs, opening them wide enough to leave nothing to the imagination.

Both constructs fell as all of my attention focused solely on that one spot. While two peaks had fallen, another began to ascend.

Godsdamnit, I really needed to hit a brothel…

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

I stared over the secondary wall, observing the chaos at the third. Billows of smoke rose from multiple fronts, the enemy's lodestone clashed raucously against Sapphire's lodestone bricks and armaments. Shouting and screaming could be heard as arrows and rocks continued to fall upon houses and citizens. A vigil approached me apprehensively, no doubt some new unsolvable problem.

“Sheriff, our rations have run out.”

“Huh, what about the mushroom farms?”

“The gnolls have sold us most everything, they barely have enough for themselves now.”

Well, this was unpleasant. We'd already butchered all of the livestock and horses, looks like we'd be eating cats and rats. I chuckled at my unintentional rhyme, I should've said cats and dogs.

Dogs...

“Hmm… Vigil, I forget, before the siege did we carry out the kob culling?”

“Uh, no, Sir. No, we did not.”

“Excellent, butcher them all and serve the meat to everyone.”

“Sir, there are going to be some, who… D-disagree?”

“Even better, more meat for those of us with backbone.”

I smiled, remembering my first ever siege when I was but a lad of twelve. My mother comforting us with stories and lovely carols to shut out the din of war and death outside. Every other night or so a miniature feast of either rat, cat, or dog. Dog meat by far the most succulent.

Ah, such fond remembrances.

-Sheriff Pius Oran, Siege of Sapphire, second year.