(42) Does Greed Rule This City
Wind howled past her ears as Nephthys soared through the sky. Normally, she would have a windshield before her, but she was not planning to reach supersonic speeds or anything close to them. This was mostly due to their proximity to Gloamview, but also to having Tara in tow.
Glancing back, she was glad to see that the girl was becoming accustomed to flight. She flew forward mostly unbothered, gazing at the landscape below. This was a dramatic improvement from the first flight, though they were not going nearly as fast, either.
Her thoughts drifted back to the Halford farm, and her mood soured. Though she was reluctant to center the situation on herself—it was obviously a tragedy for the Halfords—she could not help but be annoyed.
Of course!
Of course, things were like this. Of course, low-level food, her exact reason for coming here, was embroiled in some sort of grand conspiracy or something.
Her other purpose for being here was to find a potential caretaker for the folks sheltering in Nemesis, yet she had also found the chamberlain for the count of Gloamview in talks with some shady underworld sort, so that might rule all of Gloamview out.
Nothing could be easy, could it?
Entering the city was much easier this time, at least, only requiring a quick flash of her adventurer badge. The thing apparently had tremendous social power, from smoothing over a conversation with a noble to simply entering and exiting the city, despite the lockdown.
Thinking about Baron Buchanan lightened her mood, though only slightly. She was a product of her environment, so growing up in the world she lived in had not instilled her with a gracious attitude toward nobility. She had all kinds of heinous crimes against humanity and injustices associated with powerful nobles in her mind.
Yet, Baron Buchanan seemed an upstanding guy. True, he was still a figure of authority in an unjust system, but he seemed to genuinely care for his land and subjects. That was a good thing…though perhaps it only showed how low the bar truly was. Should she really praise the man for the bare minimum?
That said, was it unfair to be judging this world based on her own? There were thousands of years of history behind the systems of governance in her own world, and even some monarchies still lingered.
It was something to consider, but in the immediate, the Baron could be a valuable ally. This was why she had offered him her full name. If she ended up contacting him later, not as an adventurer, but as Nephthys, guild leader for Nemesis, it would avoid potential confusion.
“I saw that!” Tara suddenly shouted.
The corners of Nephthys’ mouth twitched, a column of displaced air dispersing over her head.
“Very good. I must admit, I thought that you would have dropped your circulation. You are learning quickly,” she said.
She did not have to look back to perceive the blush on Tara’s cheeks. She deserved the praise, though. Maintaining a spell, or even just circulation, was not easy. Actually, doing anything that required constant concentration was difficult.
“I have another for you to practice,” Nephthys said, flinging a diagram from her spellbook backward.
“This looks…” Tara muttered, inspecting the diagram.
She stumbled, bumping into a passerby, having finally reached her multitasking limit.
“It looks similar to your transformation, yes? It is an enhancement more than a spell. It will use your mana to strengthen your body. This is an all-purpose version that strengthens your entire body, from head to toe.
“There are more focused versions out there, but we will start with this,” Nephthys explained, grabbing Tara’s arm and helping her right herself.
“That’s…great, but I already have my transformation. Shouldn’t I be learning how to defeat people before they can get close?” she asked.
“You will, eventually. For now, your most reliable tool for self-defense is what you have been using—what you are acclimated to. In times of stress, we all tend to fall back on what we have practiced and know.
“This circulation will enhance your transformation as long as you remember to maintain it, which is why it, too, must become like breathing,” Nephthys said, rounding the bend to arrive at the market.
They approached the inn, and Tara tore her eyes away from the diagram, finally realizing where they were.
“The inn? Are we already done for the day?” she asked, confused.
“We are, yes. I have tasks that I must see to on my own. I will have you remain here,” Nephthys explained, approaching the counter.
“Greetings, Halla,” she bade.
“Oh, hey, Nef. You’re back early,” Halla, the proprietress of the inn, greeted.
It had been a few days since she and Tara had been staying in this inn, and Nephthys had spent plenty of time watching the owners. They were good people, from what she could tell. More than that, they treated others well and looked out for their friends.
However, it was when she had witnessed Halla shepherd a distraught young woman into the kitchen, away from her irate lover, who arrived shortly after, that Nephthys truly decided they were trustworthy.
“Indeed. I have some tasks that require me. Would you be willing to look after Tara for a while? I should not be long,” Nephthys asked, gesturing to Tara behind her.
“Of course! Have you eaten, Tara? You can head back to the kitchen and have Willem fix you something, if you want,” she offered.
“Thanks,” Tara squeaked, barely audible.
“If you need anything, just grab me. Or, you can always head on back. Willem’s back there nearly always, so you can find him if I’m not available,” she explained, leaving the counter with a rag in hand.
“I will return before—” Nephthys started, turning around for the door, but a gentle tug on her robe stopped her.
She turned to find Tara gripping her robe with both hands, a confused expression on her face.
Her visage immediately dredged up memories Addy had long buried: an office with wood paneling. A couch that was comfy, but the sort of comfy that she knew would defy sleep. A sharp scent of incense, too strong for her tastes, from a plug-in candle. A court-appointed therapist with a forced smile.
Nephthys put a hand on Tara’s head and kneeled down so that they were eye-level, the words coming out almost as a script, as if the therapist herself were speaking them.
“When we’re betrayed by those we trust, we start to see threats everywhere,” she recited.
Tara stared at her, eyes glistening, but defiant. The girl seemed to react instinctively to her own fear with aggression. Nephthys was not surprised by what she had witnessed at their first meeting. Tara had learned about fight-or-flight from a very young age, and she seemed to lean toward fight.
“Look at these people. Look around you,” Nephthys instructed, nodding toward Halla, who hummed while wiping down tables, a contented smile on her face.
“There is no fight, no threat, here, save what you yourself bring,” she said, stroking Tara’s hair.
Tara looked down at the floor, clearly unconvinced. Nephthys gently took her hands, removing them from her robe and placing them on Aka’s back. The sensation of fur in her hands drew Tara’s attention back, and she gazed fondly at Aka, who began to purr softly.
“I will be back in a few hours, and Aka will keep you safe until then. You are in no danger,” she said firmly.
She stared at Tara for several long moments after saying what she wanted. Tara stared at Aka, looked at the ground, and, eventually, looked Nephthys in the eye. She nodded slightly, her eyes still unsure, but her hand gripping Aka’s fur tightly.
“Study that diagram, please. I will check your progress when I return,” Nephthys said, rising with a small smile and waving as she exited the inn.
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Two men stood hunched together in the darkness of an alley, the shadows long as the sun set. They mumbled and muttered to each other, the occasional chuckle echoing down the lane.
“Excuse me, gentlemen. If I had some valuables to offload, where might I do that?” Nephthys suddenly called, her voice echoing through the dark.
The men straightened quickly, hands instinctively reaching behind their backs. Upon seeing Nephthys, they relaxed, their hands falling to their sides.
“Well, what’ve we got here? Carryin’ some valuables, are ya? What kind?” one man called.
They both stalked forward, their gaits confident and slow.
“Let us just say that I would not want to sell them to a legitimate vendor,” Nephthys replied with a small smile, entering the alley fully, its shadows falling over her.
“Hmm, well, that’s a tough one, darlin’. You're in luck, though. You can just give ‘em to us. We’ll take care of those valuables for ya, no charge,” the second man said, drawing and spinning a dagger from his belt.
The two cackled like hyenas, their display almost comical, though others might have found it intimidating.
“Oh? So, you know where I might offload these?” Nephthys asked, fanning the fingers of her right hand open to reveal two glittering red gems held between them.
The men stopped, their smiles falling from their faces. Yes, anyone in Ashreach would recognize crashglass. It was valuable everywhere, even on the continent where it originated. This was one of the main reasons Nephthys had made her base atop its origin.
The two suddenly broke into a sprint, dropping all formalities and pretenses. Suddenly, they fell to the ground mid-charge, falling to their knees and sliding toward her, their arms behind their backs. They arrived just in front of her and, looking up at her unbothered face, suddenly found themselves unable to move or speak.
“That is a shame. I was going to offer each of you a gem for the information,” she said with a sigh. One of the two gems suddenly disappeared from her fingers, and she held the remaining gem between her index finger and thumb.
“That little stunt changed my mind. Instead, I will give this gem to whoever tells me what I want to know first,” she said, suddenly making eye contact with the two.
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Nephthys left the alley to the sounds of fighting. She had expected as much, but it was still disappointing. Emerging onto the bustling street, filled with people on their way to or from dinner, she spotted a guard and ran over to him, doing her best to twist her face into a grimace.
“Excuse me, sir guard?” she said in her best impersonation of anxiety. “I just passed an alley where two men were fighting. It looks like they mean to kill each other!”
The guard glanced at her with an expression of boredom that could give her own default face a run for its money.
Really?
“They seemed to be fighting over a small red gem. It caught the sun strangely, in a way that made me think of blood…” Nephthys said with an exaggerated shudder.
The guard’s eyes suddenly widened, and he took off in the direction of the alley she had indicated without even speaking to her.
Does greed rule this entire city? She thought with another sigh.