Apologies for the long wait. I updated this story in December 2019, but a lot has changed since then. I would strongly recommend re-reading the first four chapters because I've added a lot of material.
In Feburary 2020 up until July 2020, I went through every scene and fixed stuff up so that it made a little more sense. I also fleshed a few things because I felt some scenes were unfinished. So yes, I strongly recommend going back otherwise future chapters will make little sense.
Anyways. I'm happy to announce this story is complete, and I hope to update weekly!
Thanks to mirrorkinomoto for reviewing the previous chapter.
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Chapter Four: Unsettling Rumours
Morty was supposed to be on his way to Blackthorn City, but the journey was long, and he needed rest. Travelling by foot was exhausting even for a mage. There were no spells to reduce fatigue, and his people did not have horses. Fortunately, Cherrygrove City was nearby. It was one of the smaller cities in the region. It was rumoured less than a hundred people lived here. The city was known for its cherry-coloured wood, and it was their main export.
He headed to the local tavern, placing his weapons back in their sheaths before heading inside. Soldiers and mercenaries often passed through the small city, but still the sight of one made the locals weary. It made them think there was danger nearby. Pulling the hood over his head, he walked to the farthest table away from the counter and sat down. The tavern was quite small, but lively. There was a total of eight round tables with four stools each, and each one was occupied save for the one he was sitting at. Three women dressed in plain brown dresses brought food and drinks out to the customers.
One of the women kept looking in his direction. Morty didn't much notice of her. He hadn't come to the tavern to meet women like many other soldiers did. What did people have to gain out of a single night of pleasure? It didn't benefit anyone. What a waste of time. He saw one of the soldiers exchanging smiles with one of the women. Morty looked away. Pathetic fools, he thought. How many of them had ever killed a man before? Or did they just carry their swords for decoration?
A man sat down at this table across from him. A muscle twitched in Morty's jaw. Right. The man hadn't even bothered to ask. If this wasn't a public place, he would've killed that man. He studied the man opposite to him. Short light brown hair. A scraggly beard. Crystal blue eyes. A purple tunic of all things. And the unmissable horizontal scar across his right cheekbone. He knew this man. Eusine. His old friend from Ecruteak. A foolish man who had failed to pass the first trial.
"Morty? That you?"
"Yes, unfortunately. What are you doing here?"
Eusine leaned forward. "Funny that. I was going to ask you the same thing."
"I'm here for business reasons."
"Oh. I didn't think the Brotherhood would send us to a tavern. Aren't you supposed to be heading to Blackthorn?"
Morty glared and narrowed his eyes. "I was, but I decided to take a short break. Besides. It's cloudy and I don't want to get caught in the rain. Not fun walking through mud. Why are you here? I didn't realize you were on a mission."
The boy returned a smug look. "After you were sent to Blackthorn, Naoko told me I was being assigned to Azalea Town to meet with our spy, Will. One of our longest serving members disappeared a few months back, and I've been asked to investigate and solve the issue. Will says there are some strange noises down the well at night. Sometimes, people even go missing."
"Will?" Morty repeated, uncertain. The name was foreign to him.
"Yes, Morty, Will. I have friends. You two would get on quite well. You're both dry as a desert," he commented, leaning back in his chair. "He's one of those treasure hunters, and travels from place to place learning as much as he can. He told me about the problem in Azalea as I was passing through. I thought you might be interested."
"And why would I even care? Isn't this task assigned to you, Eusin? So, convince me, why would I want to help you complete your task when I have my own?" Though, he was curious to learn more. If he could bring back something of importance to the Brotherhood upon his return, it might be enough to promote him to a higher rank.
Eusine turned away, looking for one of the waitresses. He called one over. "She's a beauty that one," he said.
Now Morty looked. Eusine was looking at a dark-skinned woman with short brown hair. The woman wore two pink flowers behind her ears. She swayed her hips as she walked across the floor, smiling at every man who looked her way.
"What do you think?"
"I think you're wasting your time."
Eusine looked at him with a scowl. "Must everything you say be so condescending?"
Morty shrugged. "You asked for my opinion."
Rolling his eyes, Eusine shifted attention back towards the woman. "Have you never been with a woman before? You know these girls are always happy to tend to serve."
"And waste my hard-earned coin? No. I'll pass."
"I take that as a no then. Still sour over Whitney?"
At the mention of Whitney, Morty tightened his jaw. "I never cared."
"Then why not take this girl for a night? I'll even pay. Maybe it'll lighten your mood."
"Would you like to find a sword in your back?"
Eusine looked at him again. "You're a moody cynical bastard."
"And yet you are asking for my help. Choose your words carefully, Eusine."
"Fine. If you don't want her, I'll have her." Again, he called the girl over. This time, she noticed. "Hello there! I must say you look stunning. Those flowers. I've never seen anything like them before."
"Oh," she replied, bringing a hand to one of the pink petals. "They're called azaleas."
"You're from Azalea Town then?"
She shook her head. "No, I'm actually from Hoenn. I'm just here to get away from the troubles back at home, that's all." She turned her attention to Morty.
Morty gave her a blank stare.
"You look like you need something strong."
"I'm sure it'll help. I'll have whatever."
"Oh, me too," Eusine chirped. "I'll have what he's having."
The woman's eyes lingered on Morty's face for a few moments before nodding and turning away.
Morty watched her retreat, frowning. Did she know him? Perhaps she was one of the Order's contacts. Sometimes he stationed spies in towns and cities.
"Did you change your mind about her? She seems interested in you. Even back at home, women seemed interested in you. I don't know why though," he added, seeming disappointed.
"I'm not interested in bedding anyone."
"Well, your loss. Thought it might help you cope."
"I don't need help coping with anything."
"You surround yourself with death, but I know the truth."
Morty glared. "You have no idea what you are talking about it."
"I do. We grew up in the same village. I was there when you passed your trials. I was there when Naoko accepted you into the inner circle. I was also there when Whitney was buried. You said you didn't care – that it had to be done. She had to die for you to ascend. But I don't think you've ever forgiven yourself."
"You know what? I've changed my mind." Morty stood up.
Eusine also rose to his feet and placed a hand on the table. "I need your help. No one else will. I promise I'll stop talking about her… but a distraction could do you some good. I'll see you in the morning in Azalea Town outside the well. It's a short walk to the east from here. Just follow the path." He placed a few coins on the table and walked off. Morty sighed. He looked in the woman's direction again. Eusine had called her a distraction. Whitney had been a distraction too. It's why she had to be the one to die. It was Whitney or the Order.
He leaned back in his chair. So full of life she had been. Always positive. Always smiling. She didn't care he was a mage. She didn't believe mages were bad. How you were born did not define you. The future had looked bright. But then Naoko and her sisters had come came along and enlisted him. Whitney interfered with those plans. A distraction Naoko had called her. She had to die for Morty to ascend and be accepted. He chose power.
The woman returned with the drinks. He didn't even thank her, too distracted by his own thoughts. She said something, but he wasn't paying attention. She walked away to find better company. Lost in his own thoughts, he picked up the mug and took a swig. Sweet. Very sweet. He put it down again. The quicker he returned to work, the better for his mind. Moments of silence allowed the past to rear its ugly head. He didn't even finish his drink. Leaving a few coins on the table, he stood up and left the building. This wasn't the distraction he needed. Spilling blood was more productive.
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Edward was easy to find. He was in his usual spot – the Meeting Room. All conversations regarding military, politics and economics took place here, and often only involved no more than five people including the king himself. Sometimes the mayors of the local towns were summoned to attend a private discussion with the king, but usually meetings involved people within the city who held important positions.
"Grandfather, I bring dire news," Lance said from behind the wooden door. He heard movement of footsteps then the sound of a key being inserted into a keyhole. The door swung open. Lance raised an eyebrow. "Since when did you start locking the door to the council room?"
"An insurance policy, that is all," Edward answered stepping aside. "What news do you bring?"
Lance stepped through the door then closed it behind him. "Bruno and I discovered three bodies in the woods to the east. An adult female and two children, a boy and a girl. Not the work of the wolves because the bodies could be identified, but the work of someone else. You told me the necromancers were no longer a threat, but what if that is no longer the case?"
His grandfather shook his head.
Lance noted the black bags beneath his eyes. Strange. It wasn't as if the kingdom was facing any major threat so what could be causing enough stress that would give the man issues sleeping?
"Necromancy is a dead school of magic. No one has practiced it in centuries. Don't you think if necromancy had returned, we would have seen sightings of the dead living again?" Edward replied.
Lance wasn't convinced. "What if they are in hiding and simply biding their time, waiting for the right moment to strike? Their defeat decades ago would've taught them to stay in the shadows. We should keep an eye out for them, grandfather."
Again, Edward shook his head, then rubbed his chin. "No. There are other important matters to attend to than searching for evidence of a cult long dead. The cult fell when their leader fell." His grandfather walked towards one of the open windows. "I received a letter from Pryce about a problem at the Lake of Rage. You are to travel alone and visit Mahogany Town to address this issue."
"What sort of problem?" Lance decided not to raise the matter of the wolf prints either.
The man turned away from the window and said, "He didn't go into much detail, but he mentioned something along the lines of a strange creature having taken residence. The villagers use the water from the lake for food and cleaning necessities, but this creature is preventing that. We receive fish from our allies there and we can't afford this disruption."
Like an obedient grandson and loyal knight, Lance nodded. Clearly, his grandfather was not interested in discussing the necromancers. Perhaps he would be more open to discussion once this problem was solved. "Then I will investigate and resolve this problem. But I must ask – should I not bring more soldiers with me?"
Edward shook his head. "This is a task for you alone."
Perhaps his grandfather knew more about this threat than he was letting on, but Lance didn't push. He viewed it as a challenge. "Of course."
"I knew you would not refuse." Edward gave him a brief smile then added, "I wish Clair was as obedient as you. You must speak with her and convince her that this marriage will benefit the family greatly."
"Clair has her own mind, grandfather. She can make decisions for herself – she doesn't need you making them for her. If you force her into this marriage, she won't be happy and then you'll lose her for good," Lance explained.
Clair loved their grandfather, but she didn't like having control taken away from her. She wasn't someone who could adjust to marriage life – she had a free and restless spirit and such a life would only cause her to seek trouble elsewhere. Clair liked to push boundaries, and she would continue to push.
"Is that what you want? For your own granddaughter to despise you?"
Edward sighed, wiping his forehead with his right hand. "You must understand. This marriage will secure our family's future. The Blackthorn name can't be forgotten."
Lance raised a brow. "And you honestly think Clair will settle for the family life? If that is what you think then you don't know her well at all."
"She listens to you, Lance," Edward replied, his tone almost pleading.
"I'm not going to try and persuade her to change her mind." Lance turned his back and headed towards the door when he felt a hand grab his arm. Holding back a sigh, Lance turned around to face his grandfather once more. "You want to take her freedom. As if her freedoms aren't already limited. You wish to take more."
Although Clair was part of a royal bloodline, she was still restricted to a woman's role in society. Women weren't allowed to join the military nor were they allowed to vote. A women's only role was to serve the family and look after the children and their husbands.
Edward released his grip. "I want what is best for her."
Lance shook his head. "No, you want what is best for you. I don't want to argue with you, grandfather, and I know you care about Clair… But you can't force her to marry someone that is not of her choosing. What exactly is this marriage going to achieve? A brief alliance with King Alder's family in Unova until they tire of Clair?"
"That is out of the question, Lance. No royal couple will separate when children are involved."
Lance raised an eyebrow. "Children? Clair?" He forced a laugh. "You really do not know Clair well at all because if you did, you would know having children is the last thing on her mind. She is not like her mother, grandfather."
Although he had only met Clair's mother once, he had heard many stories about her. She always put her family above everyone else and desired nothing but settling down and having a family of her own. The total opposite of Clair.
"She will understand in time," Edward said.
Lance scoffed, then narrowed his eyes. "She's not her mother," he repeated. After a pause, he drew in his breath to calm himself then added, "I should prepare for the journey to Mahogany. Do take care of yourself, grandfather." Without giving his grandfather a chance to respond, Lance opened the door and exited.
.
Every time Clair visited the markets, she always found something that grabbed her interest. Today was no different. She could spend hours just browsing each stall. Sometimes she would buy objects just because she could; other times she would spend money to prevent other people from purchasing them even if she had no need for them. Of course, her actions led to having an unfavourable opinion from the public, but she didn't care. If her grandfather remained king, no one would dare harm her or risk incurring his wrath, so she was free to spend her money at will.
"Are you serious? Your grandfather wants you to marry that fool, Benga?" Karen scoffed.
Clair nodded. "Unfortunately, yes. He says it will be for the good of the family's legacy, but he fails to see it from my point of view. He only thinks about himself. I don't even get a say in this and it's my body he wants to marry off! You'd think I'd be entitled to an opinion. Benga is supposed to be arriving this week, so he and I can have some time to get to know each other. How pathetic is that?"
Karen raised a brow. "Benga? The Unovan Prince? Your grandfather wants you to marry that?" She stifled a laugh. "You know, I've heard so many stories about him from other women. Word travels far. They say he's all just talk and no action. Sounds like a dull life if you ask me," she said, giving Clair a lopsided grin. "So. What are you going to do about it? Don't tell me you actually have to marry him."
"I don't get a choice, Karen. Believe me, if I had a say in whom I married, Benga wouldn't be anywhere near the top of my list." She didn't know much about the Prince of Unova. She never cared to listen to her grandfather's talks about the other leaders. "…How do you know so much about him anyway? You haven't even been to Unova."
"Have you ever visited the tavern?"
Clair shook her head. "Of course not. My grandfather would not allow it. He says the tavern is home to people who have ill intentions that like to gossip." It was no secret her grandfather despised the tavern. It was a place for people to come together and gossip or as her grandfather called it, 'spreading poison'. She had always wanted to visit the tavern, but Lance would never take her, and no other soldier would risk taking her there and incurring the king's wrath. Sneaking in and disguising herself as a man was also too risky – her face was too well recognized.
"Wow. You haven't lived at all. Abandon all your plans – you are coming to the tavern with me."
"And how are we supposed to even get in? You know what the law states. Besides, people will recognize me."
Rolling her eyes, Karen said, "I wouldn't be bringing you along without a plan you know." She grabbed Clair's right arm and pulled her towards the right. "A woman called Agatha arrived in town recently. You've probably heard of her before – she's known as the Hag. A nasty old crone she is, but she does make powerful potions for a price."
"The most talented in all of the region, I've heard," Clair replied then frowned. "Grandfather had tried to appoint her as the surgeon, but she turned down the role. He's been looking for her ever since… And now you're telling me she's here on our castle grounds?"
Karen nodded. "She doesn't stay for long and she conceals herself well."
"What? Using magic?"
Karen looked hesitant to speak more.
Clair sighed. "I'm not my grandfather, Karen. I don't fear magic like he does. You think I'm going to tell him Agatha is in town? He's always trying to ruin my fun. This could be my last chance to do something with my life. So, let's visit Agatha. How do you even know she is here anyway?"
"Tavern gossip. Soldiers. I always know how to get information from people.
Clair didn't pry for details. Knowing Karen, she had probably offered her body in exchange for services and information. "So, what exactly does this potion do anyway?"
"You'll see it for yourself. Come this way."
Clair didn't ask more questions. She had to trust that Karen had taken this potion before or at least had seen firsthand its effects. Karen led the way through the crowded streets towards what was typically seen as the lower end of the commoner class. The average commoner worked on the farms, went hunting in the woods or chopped down trees, whilst the educated worked as smithies, clerics or soldiers. Uneducated women often turned to prostitution to earn money to help raise their families.
She followed Karen through the winding paths of the cobblestone streets until they reached the apothecary. The building was easily identified by the bushes that formed a fence around it. No other building within the kingdom had a wall. She supposed the bushes had been specifically planted that way to reduce the chances of theft. There was no way to climb over them or part the bushes to make a wide enough opening to crawl through, and the branches were also lined with sharp thorns. Even a gentle brush against them would pierce flesh. Some people even believed they were poisonous. The only way to reach the entrance was through the small opening in the hedge fence.
Karen approached the door and knocked three times. At first, there was silence, but moments later the door opened.
An elderly woman with a vertical scar on her right eye stood before them. She did not greet them with a smile, but rather with a cold, calculating look, as if annoyed by the sudden disturbance. Her eyes shifted from Clair to Karen then back to Clair again. "I know you. You are the king's granddaughter."
"Yes, that's me, Clair."
The woman didn't seem impressed. "What do you want?"
Slightly annoyed, Clair folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes. She was about to open her mouth and demand better treatment from the old crone, but Karen spoke first, as if she expected Clair to make a complaint.
"We have come to you to ask for a disguise. We've heard much about your magic and that is why we've come directly to you," Karen explained. After a pause, she added, "We can pay you good coin." As if that would convince Agatha to help them.
Her good coin. Karen wasn't poor. But she certainly wasn't rich either. "How much will it cost?" Clair said, as she felt Karen gently nudge her in the ribs.
The elderly woman shifted her gaze back and forth until resting on Clair. "Twenty gold per person."
That was more coin than an educated person would earn in a year. She hoped Agatha's magic was as good as Karen claimed it to be. Otherwise she would be ordering for the woman's head to be chopped off. No one made a fool of her and she certainly didn't like her money going to waste. Clair dropped a hand to her satchel hanging off to the side of her right hip and grabbed two bags of gold coins. Each one held exactly twenty gold coins. She always came prepared. "This better be worth it," she said, handing the money bags over to the woman.
The woman's eyebrows arched up. It seemed she hadn't been expecting them to afford the cost. "You are eager," the woman said, dark eyes boring into Clair's own. "This is powerful magic, and as such there will be side effects. This disguise is temporary – when you feel a warm burn under your skin, you must leave at once or your true faces will be revealed. Are you sure you wish to proceed?"
Karen nodded. "Of course. We wouldn't be here otherwise."
"Then come inside where we may proceed behind closed doors." She stepped aside allowing them to enter.
There was a bitter scent in the room. Clair couldn't quite tell what it was, but the smell was strong. Doubt filled her as the door closed behind her. Her grandfather had always said magic could not be trusted; that magic destroyed lives; but here she was ready to allow this magic to enter her system. The woman had mentioned there would be side effects. She turned her head sideways and caught Karen's eye.
"This is going to be great," Karen said. "You're not afraid, are you?"
Clair snorted. "Of course not. I was going to ask you the same thing."
Karen grinned. "I've got nothing to be afraid of." She pulled away.
Clair didn't say another word and followed Karen. The building wasn't much different from the standard hut the commoners lived in. There was one room for sleeping, another room for cooking and the dining area where the family would come together and eat their food on a wooden table before the fireplace. The only room the typical hut did not have was the surgery area and this was simply a bed and a table to keep the surgical equipment. It was also where the potions were made to treat wounds and other illnesses.
Agatha was waiting for them. She pointed to two chairs. "Take a seat. I will return shortly with the potions you must drink. Do not touch anything." She took her leave as both Clair and Karen took their seats.
The room was dark and plain. Unlike her own room, the building's walls were plain – her own room had decorated wallpaper to give it colour. The walls in this building were a dull grey. How depressing, she thought. On the table, she saw many plain copper jars, each one with text on it. One read 'snails' and another read 'goat hearts'. She made a face. Gross.
Karen also seemed to share the same thought as she made a faint gagging noise.
"I can't believe we're doing this. The tavern better be worth it," Clair complained, scrunching up her face.
"I'm sure it will," Karen said, hands resting on her lap. "We're going to have so much fun. We can do whatever and no one is going to recognize us."
Clair didn't respond, lost in her own thoughts. She hoped Karen was right. After all, she'd hate to see good coin go to waste.
.
The tavern was much larger than Lyra had imagined, and far livelier than she had been expecting. The building was four storeys tall and made from a mixture of wood, stone and brick. A wooden sign hanging above the entrance read, 'The Board Laid Bare'. Ethan had mentioned earlier this was the most popular tavern in all of Blackthorn. She could hear the raucous laughter from within and the smell of beer, mead and ale sifting through the open windows.
"I know it sounds like a lot…. But don't be intimidated. Just don't talk to anyone you don't recognize. Sometimes people stop acting like themselves after they have drunk too much, and they may interpret your words to mean something else and then you'll be in trouble. Just stay close and they won't be a problem." Ethan approached the door then pushed it open.
Lyra followed him through and scrunched up her face at the strong scent of ale. A few people looked in their direction, but their glances were short lived.
Ethan navigated through the crowd, guiding her towards the counter.
As she followed him, she took note of their surroundings. There were twelve circular wooden tables with two benches that could each fit five people and a fireplace to the north east which currently had a large pig roasting on the spit. Large barrels of wine were positioned to the western corner near one of the open windows which provided the only source of light. The floor itself was made from planks of wood.
"Well, look who it is, Ethan, and you brought a fine lass with you too!"
Lyra pulled her attention away from her surroundings and turned towards the speaker. He was standing behind the counter, one hand on a silver goblet, the other resting on the counter. This must be the one Ethan had called Gary. He was a fine-looking man with messy brown hair and dark eyes. He seemed to have a permanent grin on his face, as if always amused by something. His eyes locked on hers and she could've sworn he winked.
"Don't get any ideas, Gary. She's new to this city," Ethan replied, resting his elbows on the surface of the counter.
"Ah, one of the new slaves then? What a shame."
Lyra frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I didn't mean any offense… It's just that… if you are with Ethan that means you're going to end up in the castle serving as the maid of the royal family. Castle slaves are treated better than the average ones. Believe me. You should see some of the scars." He turned away briefly to fill up someone's drink then turned back to them again. "Anyway. One of the slaves who came in last week said he found something strange when he was helping his master chop down in trees in the woods. Said he came across some funny markings on a tree. You haven't heard of such a thing before, have you?"
Ethan shook his head. "Are you sure this young lad wasn't drunk?"
Gary rolled his eyes. "I'm just telling you what I heard."
"So, what did these markings look like?"
"It was a five-pointed star," he said.
"I've read about those starts before… in a story," Ethan said.
Lifting an eyebrow, Lyra said, "Five-pointed stars? I've never heard of that one before. Tell me more." A lie of course. She had seen the markings before that night when the wolves had attacked the bandits.
Ethan opened his mouth to reply, but Gary spoke first.
He grinned. "I'll be happy to tell you. Decades ago, everyone practiced magic, right? Magic was used by everyone that knew how to use it. A man called Nathaniel arrived in the city with a man called Krahiya. Together, they built this school to teach magic. A third man was with them, but he had never been named."
"Why is that?" Lyra said.
Gary shrugged. "His name has been scribbled out from the books. He started the Time of Troubles. So, they erased his name. It's what they do with criminals here. Anyone who commits a heinous crime loses their identity. So, that's why he has no name in history. This man found a way to manipulate blood to harm his enemies and heal himself. He started a school of his own and there were six others. This school was known as necromancy and he would mark his victims with a five-pointed star. That's what the stories said. He was said to be the strongest of them all."
A few more people lined up at the counter to order themselves a few tankards of ale. She wasn't sure what people found so fascinating about drinking. To her, it was simply a waste of time and there were other things to focus on. But then again maybe after a few long hard days of work she'd feel tempted to indulge herself in some ale too. "And he betrayed their trust I assume?" Lyra said.
Gary shook his head. "He was struck down with the illness, and his students soon followed. They were marched out of the city in a single line, their arms and legs bound together by chain, as they were taken to a cave where they would be sealed away and left to die." He paused, as if remembering the fallen then said, "Panic spread, and distrust towards mages started."
"Because they thought mages were spreading it," Ethan supplied.
A local walked up to the counter and placed their jug on the bench. Lyra could smell the cheap ale on his body and scrunched up her face. The man walked away all red in the face. "What happened next?" she said, turning back to Gary eager to learn more.
"No one knows," Gary replied with another shrug. "Nathaniel and Krahiya both left once the plague had spread to their own students. People say they too had succumbed and died far away from the walls. Others say they had killed themselves in a sealed tomb of magic to prevent people from robbing their graves. Mages were driven out. A few decades later Henry Blackthorn claimed the throne and tried to rebuild the alliance between us and the mages. He was later struck down with poison in his tea. His son, Edward Blackthorn claimed the throne at twelve years of age and declared all mages must die. This came to be known as the Time of Troubles," Gary explained, taking the jug away on the shelf behind the counter.
"Any person found practicing magic will be executed at dawn before the mob," Ethan interjected. "The king sends out groups of soldiers to scout the lands to make sure no mage threatens them."
Frowning, Lyra said, "But who poisoned the king? And how could anyone do that without anyone noticing?"
"All it takes is for someone to tamper with the food, and anyone could be poisoned," Gary said. He gestured to the people in the tavern. "It didn't cross anyone's mind food could be contaminated by magic as the plague wasn't passed through food, but through the air we breathe, and only mages were infected. This poisoning was in King Henry's drink. A servant who had decided the king was a fool he no longer wanted to serve."
Lyra glanced at the jug on the shelf. "We could be drinking poison then."
Gary chuckled. "No mage would be foolish enough to stay within the city walls., nor would anyone want to try and kill the king. King Edward is a good man – the finest king we've had in centuries. There will never be a balance between the rich and the poor, but the economy is strong, and we're well-defended. Taxes are low, and people are given a second chance."
"Unless they're guilty of witchcraft," Ethan pointed out.
Gary nodded. "Well, yeah, mages are dangerous. Once you are found guilty, that's it. You don't get a second chance."
"What's to stop someone from trying again?"
"That's why the city is so guarded," Gary replied, wiping down the counter with a cloth. "Food is checked every day and night for any signs of contamination. Castle servants are separated from the common servants you find walking around the streets. The royal family even have their own personal servants. I mean, it sounds like a lot of work, but this castle hasn't had a problem since these laws were put into place. Anyone suspected of suspicious behaviour will be taken away to be interrogated."
"Do you think many mages still exist?"
Gary nodded. "Of course. There'll always be a few around the area, but most are smart enough to keep their distance from the castle grounds. There population numbers were never great either, so it would take a few generations for there to be a big enough army to threaten the city. Even with all their power, mages are still mortal and easily struck down like any common man."
Ethan cleared his throat. "Well, this history tale was exciting and all, but we didn't come here to talk about magic. We aren't mages, there are no mages in this city, so we don't have anything to worry about. Let's just forget about this five-pointed star business. Lyra won't even need to think about magic when she's carrying out the royal family's orders."
"Right. The royal family," Gary said, leaning against the counter with a smirk on his face. "You'll probably end up as Clair's personal maid – I hear she's due to be getting married off soon. If she throws one of her tantrums, you can always come here to the tavern and have some ale to forget about it."
Lyra forced a smile. "Right."
"Well, I should return to work anyway."
"And I need to show Lyra around the city," Ethan said. Turning to Lyra he said, "Forget about this five-pointed star conversation – pretend it never even happened. They're just stories, that's all. We are safe here. Besides, if there was a threat, the king and his men would deal with it. Let's just focus on us now."
Gary said his goodbyes, shifting his attention to another customer.
"He seems okay," Lyra said.
Ethan rolled his eyes. He led her towards a table in the far corner and sat down. "He likes to talk. A lot. Come to the tavern if you want your head filled with nonsense. He's a tavern worker, remember? Gary's not someone you want to seek advice from nor would you expect any words of honesty from him. So, take my advice – don't try to investigate this five-pointed star business when you have some time off. It's probably just someone's idea of a lame joke." He stood up from his seat. "I'll get us something to eat and then we'll head on back home, so I can show you our daily tasks."
Before Lyra could respond, Ethan had already walked away.
With a sigh, Lyra glanced in Gary's direction again. He was busy serving customers now and didn't look to be available anytime soon. Ethan had said not to trust the words of a bartender, but Gary must've heard similar stories before. Drunk or not, every story was a clue. The moral of the story was trust no one. Peace didn't last forever. Her hometown had been an example of that. Perhaps if she excelled in her tasks, she would be sent to the castle early and from there she'd be able to learn more. Who better to learn about the mages than from the royal family themselves?
