“How did you do that?” Sechen demanded as the Gilded Night popped into view. “Those connection points have to be activated by one of Hoalt’s vassals.”

“‘Have’ is a strong word, don’tcha think?” Prisoner smirked. “It’s a teleportation ritual, ringlet. I just swapped out a little bit of Hoalt’s Issi with my own. It’ll probably go back to normal in a few weeks.”

“A few weeks.” Sechen repeated. “And you still had enough Issi to do that after fighting off the starving wolf.”

“Is that what they call wolf Hoalt?” Prisoner mused. “Well, I wouldn’t want the golden king bein’ compared to a sewer sludge monster like that thing either.”

“You did not answer her question.” Gilt said.

“Nope. This place looks pretty damn similar to the last time I was here; there’s just more of it. And the pillar’s gotten a little taller, too.”

Sechen sighed. She was going to have to get used to non-answers. “Has it?”

“Just a bit. Another, I dunno, hundred or so stories?” Prisoner tapped his chin. “No, probably one fifty. Unless Hoalt put more high-ceiling floors on it. Need to fit the airships in somehow.”

Sechen squinted, looking up at the massive black and gold tower that loomed above. She couldn’t even see the top from where she was standing; hells, she couldn’t see more than one wall. Only a single, perfectly flat wall out of the four. She couldn’t see any skydocks on this side, and she didn’t remember seeing any the last time she was here.

“I guess Hoalt needs more than just the waterspouts to get stuff in.”

“Waterspouts? From the lake?” Prisoner whistled. “The overgrown gecko couldn’t let go of the merchandise the lakes brought in. Fits what I remember.”

“Yup. The gilded district, the night district, and the abyssal district where they load and unload the ships. And the pillar, but I don’t think they call that a district.” Sechen said. “You know what you’re looking for, right? Because the gilded district is huge, and if we have to browse…”

“I know what I’m looking for. It’s a rare Issi beast part that ain’t exactly ethical to harvest, and yes, I know where to look for it. Along with a few other ingredients that won’t be as hard to find unless everythin’ changed.” Prisoner put his hands on his hips and sighed dramatically. “Time ain’t kind to the forgotten. I’ll lead the way until it’s obvious I ain’t got a clue where I’m goin’, ringlet, then you take over.”

The people of the Gilded Night were no different than Sechen remembered. There was an obvious wealth divide between the freakishly rich and the rest, but she didn’t see anyone suffering on the streets, which she would have thought was a good thing. The last time she’d been here, however, she’d seen how the streets were kept free of the poor. Hoalt’s vassals had rolled up on the poor man, taken him by the arms, and forced a jet black collar around his neck. He’d screamed so much. He’d obviously been sick, or worse. But the utter silence that came as the collar lit up with golden runes was terrifying. And then she saw the man working to unload crates in the abyssal district a few days later, his eyes bright with new life and chains around his ankles.

At least they hadn’t killed him outright. Now, every time Sechen saw the sea of differently coloured robes and clothes, she saw the faces they’d made at that man. Disgust, rage, disbelief, and the rare flash of pity. But one thing was common among all of them; relief once he’d been taken away. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Now why’re you sneerin’ at the passersby, sister?” Prisoner asked as he smiled at a heavyset man wearing a black shirt and beige pants. “Got a problem with the people of this fine city?”

“No.” Sechen grunted.

“Really? Alright.” Prisoner shrugged. “I figured you might have a problem with how old scaly runs the place, what with all the slave labor, but maybe you didn’t notice it. All the collars, chains, drunken smiles and glassy looks.”

“Better than dead.” Sechen repeated what Revel had told her when she’d brought it up.

“Oh wow, better than the worst thing you can do to a person. Such a high bar.” Prisoner drawled, his words dripping with sarcasm. “Glasrime yanks their bonds and throws them to the other side of the veil. Hoalt locks their mind away and works the body. Lavassil locks them up and puts them through a rigorous conversion program that don’t work for shit. And they’re the best options on this side of the veil.”

“What did they do where you came from?” Sechen asked, and Gilt perked right up at that.

“Put ‘em to work in the mines. Most of em’ died within a year or two.” Prisoner shuddered, flexing his hands repeatedly before balling them into fists. “Most of ‘em, but not all.”

“Did you work in the mines?” Gilt asked.

“Yeah. It was beyond torture.” Prisoner said. “I don’t got much nostalgia for my home past the first.”

“Past the first? What do you mean by that?”

“If you think back, you’ll understand. Or I can tell you once I’m feelin’ good enough to put up another all-stoppin’ barrier.” Prisoner shrugged. “Remember; don’t talk about certain things in public.”

Gilt frowned. “I think I understand what you are implying, yet I still do not understand your first statement.”

“Think harder, then. We should be seein’ greenhouses in a few minutes, if memory serves me right, which I’m startin’ to believe it won’t. This place ain’t much bigger than I remember, but it’s been packed tighter than a hoarder’s closet. People here used to have yards. Gardens. Now they’ve got three feet of too-green grass before they touch noses with their neighbor.” Prisoner reached out and touched the closest house for emphasis, the walking path barely wide enough for the three to stand shoulder to shoulder. “And it ain’t that the houses got bigger.”

“Hoalt does have a lot more people living here than Glasrime did in their glacier.” Sechen said. “But the Gilded Night is the biggest city on this side of the veil. And probably the safest.”

“A lot of families here, then?”

“Oh yeah. Lots of kids. The pillar’s apparently one huge school and training facility in one, just like Resthollow’s skyscrapers.”

“Mmhm. Biggest city this side of the veil, and it’s dwarfed by Resthollow three times over. You ever been to Pyreheld, ringlet? Shiny?”

Gilt shook his head. “No, I have not. Though I know of it.”

“Revel took me through one of the offshoots, yeah.” Sechen said. “The place is huge.”

“Then you know how small this side really is. Now, greenhouses. They should be ‘round here somewhere.”

“Two neighborhoods further.” Sechen pointed off in the distance.

“Close enough. Let’s see if old scaly’s become a lot more generous in the years I’ve been gone.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t sell reaper’s reaches here. To be honest, I’m not completely sure what they are. But you do have them marked as a berry.” The shopkeep shook his head and handed back the list Prisoner had given him. “Greenhouses 17 through 24 would be where they are, though, if you’d like to take a look for yourself.”

“That’s what we’ll do, then.” Prisoner said with a nod, folding the list into a small square and stuffing it into his pocket. “Could be you ain’t familiar with the name, though.”

“The names are all I’m familiar with, I’m afraid. If you want someone familiar with the berry’s appearance, there should be someone monitoring the group of greenhouses at all times of the day.”

“I’ll make sure to ask them. And about the other things on the list…”

“You’d have to ask the other overseers.”

“Okay, then. Thanks for your help.” Prisoner waved and stepped out of the small office in the back of the general store right on the edge of all the greenhouses. He waved away a group of people that were harassing Gilt, still carrying two people on his back, and looked around for Sechen. “Where’d that girl go?”

“She is conversing with a worker who brought in a delivery not two minutes ago.” Gilt replied. “It would seem the selection for the average practitioner is quite vast. A wonderful environment to better oneself.”

“Yeah, yeah. For the average practitioner, sure. That’s what everyone’s become obsessed with, ain’t it? Average.” Prisoner sighed. “I miss when people had fires in their bellies, not these sputterin’ embers I’ve been seein’. Hells, that thing downstairs was far weaker than I’d expected. Barely put up a fight before it ran with it’s tail between it’s legs.”

“That ‘thing’ is a tyrant level Issi beast, comparable in strength to a living city. A being that could give pause to even Glasrime or Lavassil.” Gilt said. “And you would have me believe you are not only its equal, but it’s better?”

“Hey, who walked into that shack with whose body splattered over their hands and clothes? What? It wasn’t me poked full of holes and bleedin’ Issi?” Prisoner gasped dramatically and leaned down over Gilt. “Who could have gotten the worse end of that stick, then?”

“I am not challenging you. I am simply asking if that is what I should believe.” Gilt said seriously. “I do not know how powerful you truly are. And I would enjoy having a frame of reference for those you could defend myself and the other three from.”

“Oh. Well, you could have said that to begin with.” Prisoner stood up straight and tapped his foot while he thought. “Everything and everyone I’d compare myself to are either dead or gone. I didn’t get a good feelin’ for Glasrime, but probably around their level?”

“You monster.” Gilt said with a teasing twinkle in his eye.

“You already figured that, didn’t you? Damn cat.” Prisoner chuckled. “Go grab ringlet. We’re headin’ off.”

“No need to ‘go grab’ me.” Sechen said as she rounded the corner from behind a shelf. “Looks like they’ve got a whole lot of mid to mid-high level stuff, and a few high level things, but nothing beyond that.”

“What would you consider a medium level thing, ringlet?”

“I dunno?” Sechen shrugged. “Lake peaches are rare-ish and pretty good for water practitioners.”

“Lake peaches.” Prisoner repeated, then shook his head. “Lake peaches are mid level Issi fruits and are some of the the lowest I’d consider ever usin’ to train a water practitioner. And that’s on a list of twenty three fruits, which are in turn on a list of close to two hundred aides in total.”

“So you probably won’t find what you’re looking for here, then?”

“Take probably and then out of your sentence, then replace the question mark with a period and you’ve got your answer.” Prisoner said, holding the door open for Gilt to squeeze through. “Don’t even need to check the greenhouses. Hopefully the rock people’ll have somethin’ more for us.”