Apystillius is the [Mayor] of Leggiadra, a man responsible for the bureaucracy that the Steel and Glass District mostly avoids like you would with a plague.

“These are all the trade agreements that were stipulated,” says in a straightforward manner.

“Any problem?” I ask.

He’s the one who actually signs documents for the city, including the agreements that half-giants drafted with Goblins for the supply of iron ore.

Apystillius shakes his head and adjusts his glasses.

“No. Everything went smoothly. All the contracts are in order. I had them examined. All is good.”

…

“Apystillius is the dullest person I have ever met,” Minurulex says while fetching some food. We have been sharing meals to discuss his latest findings, both military and regarding the great mystery we have uncovered.

“He doesn’t seem very sharp,” I admit.

“Oh, why do you think we put him there? I mean, he’s had his position for something like twenty years. He’s extremely good with paperwork, but he’s not fit to be in any creative position. If he actually led the city, we would have not seen anything change. He would also have blocked our dealings with you. He hates change. But if you need him to take care of maintenance, he’s the guy.”

“Does Melior like him?” I ask out of pure curiosity. Minurulex is one of the few people I actually feel comfortable and relaxed around.

“Melior? I have no idea. He never deals with Apystillius directly. You know how Melior is. He grew up in a forge—he’s better at speaking to iron than others. Oh, and he does speak to iron. If I have to guess, he spoke longer to iron than actual people.”

“You are really not interested in going along with him,” I laugh.

“Why should I? I work on interesting things, and now I’m getting better and better. I think he might actually have less levels than me, for now. I mean, he has age on his side. I guess I have wisdom?”

Minurulex’s blabber fills the room and keeps me company.

“How did Melior become the head of the Steel?”

“How? We host contests of skills. You show that you are better than everyone else and you get to lead. Over the years, some have argued that this is not ideal because it means that very weird characters have led the District. But it gives us a very technical lead. There’s very little politicking because no one wants to waste time outside their laboratory or forge. It was the same for me. But I have to admit, the [Alchemists] of my generation and the previous one weren’t anything great. Melior’s people were definitely having the upper-hand, influence-wise. But before we took Keveiz, Leggiadra basically survived on the income generated by [Alchemists]. That’s why there’s a good balance now. It’s also the reason I actually get stuff done with Melior. We don’t really like each other, but we deeply respect each others’ work.”

It is a technical government. Italy had many of those when a political government failed. The problem was that even the economists were mostly not competent enough to do what needed to be done; or even worse, they started blindly following principles of economic growth instead of focusing on what would have benefitted their population.

“Did you find out anything about the [Light]-infused glass?” I ask, changing topic.

Minurulex moves a big wooden spoon back and forth in his soup, thinking.

“I have spoken to Melior. He never heard about this—which is not surprising, by the way. Melior is in his twenties. He’s too young to know anything about this. I tried inquiring among older [Alchemists], but no one said—”

“Hello, my fair hosts!” a blaring voice barges in, louder than a blowing horn.

“Zifinius, Rizilius’s Ears, I have no money for you!” Minurulex exclaims.

“Oh, Minurulex, I didn’t see you there! I was starstruck by the beautiful lady here! My lady, your skin is purer than alabaster and your hair looks sculpted away from Nightstones!”

“Cassandre, don’t mind,” Minurulex says while trying to push away the intruding half-giant, “this is Zifinius, broken [Bard] and [Beggar]. He’s dead drunk, again. Zifinius, come on! How didn’t they throw you out yet?!”

“Me? HA! I entertain people, Minurulex! I don’t need to make little trinkets to be of some value! Art! Poetry! Even the Canti would be enticed to stop their great deeds to listen to my beautiful music!” Touching the strings of his harp, he emphasizes the final syllable.

He begins to hum a soothing tune.

Music from the instrument touches a nerve deep within me, and I can't help but smile. I have always felt a deep connection with music and all the artistic forms it took over the years; from simple pop music to classical concerts, it’s something I have always enjoyed.

I fish out a golden coin a hand it to a wide-eyed Zifinius.

“Give me your best,” I tell the [Bard].

“Oh, Cassandre, what have you done?! We will never get rid of him now!” Minurulex cries.

Zifinius seems unfazed by Minurulex's presence. Instead, now that he got his token of appreciation, he seems to have morphed into a different entity altogether. Gone the drunken haze, he softly caresses the strings, eliciting a melancholic melody from the harp. Something comes to my mind: when you get someone to read your tarots, you have to pay money if you want the magic to work. If you don’t pay for the magic, it simply doesn’t work and the predictions will be misleading. From a witchcraft point of view, you always need a pledge for magic to work.

“This is a tale of Giants and Light,

Made great by the Dragons delight,

Wherever you go, promise your might

But not to the treacherous Canti.”

Zifinius's first words freeze both Minurulex and me, and the bard's face is plastered with a devious grin. The music ensnares both of us, awakening the legends of his people, deeply buried in our common consciousness, tearing apart the locks that kept it hidden.

“When the monsters came to knock,

Light put them on the chopping block,

But Giants and Dragons bickered too long,

And the Dragons killed them for naught.”

Zifinius etches out more notes from his harp with his eyes closed, drunk of his own music, possessed by his muse, probably not even conscious of what he was doing.

“When Aethereum’s great wisdom couldn’t be passed,

Delusum’s tried to tell his fellows Dragons,

‘What you can’t see is still there, friends,’

And for that they killed him like fiends.”

The notes start breaking down, Zifinius’s voice straining against his own vocal chords, having to push out the words with all the strength he could muster. He’s digging deep, drinking at the most powerful source of his art.

“What is lost is lost, like the greatest love,

Dragons meander aimlessly for treasure troves,

Scarred Kome when the great Black Queen was lost,

They lost themselves in the darkness of a cave.”

Zifinius appears to be exhausted. His pupils constrict to the size of pins as his nose pours blood on the table. But, with the veins of his neck straining and pulsating, he pushes out a last verse. His eyes start shining with blue light and a powerful aura sweeps over the entire inn.

“Wait for the great sovereign of Death to meddle,

As Light finds his lumen in new vessels,

Look for the Magic among the Demons,

But keep an eye on Kome for the Heroes.”

At the last syllable, Zifinius falls on the table, convulsing, with foam at his mouth.

…

“Oh, I have leveled!” the [Bard] says as soon as he wakes up, smiling.

“Rizilius’s ears!” Minurulex grabs the bard from the bed where we laid him down. “What was that?! Where did you take those lyrics from?!”

“What? Oh, Minurulex. I’m a bit hungover. Would you mind letting go of me?”

“Who is the Black Queen?” I ask, that name sounds inspiring more than terrifying for some reason.

“Who?”

“You mentioned the Black Queen and a bunch of things, you drunken idiot! Speak! Where did you get those lyrics?!”

“Hey, listen, folks, maybe I need some wine before we—”

Minurulex takes out a dagger from his bag of holding with trembling hands.

“I swear, Zifinius, if you don’t speak!”

“Calm down, Minurulex,” I tell the half-giant brandishing a dagger bigger than a machete. I move my eyes to Zifinius, clearly not aware of what he said not even an hour before.

“I make up most of the lyrics I speak, Minurulex,” the half-giant on the bed says, wiping some sweat from his forehead, “you should know! Don’t you remember the song I made about you?”

…

“Magic among the Demons. Light. Epretos and the Nine Towers Academy,” I say, looking around for the references. Minurulex transcribed the lyrics, and we are trying to make something out of it.

“That’s where this points at if that wasn’t just a drunken hysteria,” Minurulex looks over the paper.

…

Melior looks at the paper and frowns.

“Nine Towers Academy?”

“That’s what the [Bard] said before fainting,” I tell him.

The big half-giant keeps frowning, but he doesn’t speak. He just stares at the paper.

“You know something, don’t you?” Minurulex asks.

Melior bites his lower lip, the first sign of hesitation I’ve seen from the guy since the day I met him. He ordered slaughters and a potential war without frowning. But he’s now conflicted about something.

“Follow me.”

He gets up and starts tapping around a wall in his forge. We are already alone, no one around capable of disturbing us. As soon as Melior finishes tapping, a door appears out of nowhere.

“Nice enchantment,” Minurulex observes.

“This is a secret of Steel, Minurulex. You must have something similar, but never mention it to anyone.”

Melior doesn’t say anything to me. He knows that I have no interest in betraying his trust, and that I’ve already killed too many Humans to be a spy.

We descend through a few flight of stairs and find ourselves in a private office, similar to the one Minurulex has.

“Some of our ancestors were [Light Mages], some of them among the best. There are mentions of a lost Relic of half-giants, specifically made for [Light Mages].”

He pulls out some parchment and starts unrolling it in front of us.

“Here it says that metal cannot carry any Light,” Melior says with a solemn face. He doesn’t look pleased by this revelation. “Glass is in charge of that. But there is some special alloy that apparently, after undergoing a ritual, can ‘dispel darkness.’ I have no idea why they wrote it and why it’s not in verses like the rest of the knowledge.”

“Rizilius’s Ears, is this in prose as well? The same goes for the Glasslight!”

“Did you come up with that name?” Melior asks with a straight face.

“Beautiful name, isn’t it?” Minurulex replies.

“No.”

“Whatever, what do you know?”

While they bicker, some knowledge found in Licinium’s books comes to my mind.

“The Nine Towers Academy had several half-giant [Archmages] in the past, as documented by your historiae. And there are mentions of a great treasure of half-giants that they brought to the Nine Towers Academy to build the famed bridges of Light. The same bridges that, century after century, no one has yet managed to dispel or harm. And they said that these bridges hold the secret for it.”

“It is an old joke that only stupid people would get the [Light Mage] class believing they could unveil some secret around the academy. No one believe it’s real, though.”

“They are. And we need to know what secret that is.”