(21 Days Left)

I spent the remainder of the night camping atop a very large tree at the edge of town, sitting inside of my camping bag. Occasionally, I pumped more power into the runes of the bag, increasing the space within. The goal was to make it big enough so that I could reorganize the massive mess of pilfered potions and alchemical ingredients inside of it.

The wondrous thing about the bag was that its contents did not tilt nor shake whenever the bag was moved or even turned upside down. From what the salesman told me, the inside was some kind of an extradimensional bubble completely separate from the bag itself and connected by a magisteel ring-portal at the flap of the bag. Damaging the steel ring covered in hexagrammic runes would destroy the portal, cutting off the contents of the bag forevermore from the world, so I had to make sure that the ring remained intact. Thankfully, magisteel could take a lot of beating before the runes on it came apart.

The morning sun slowly rose over the mountains, bathing Acadia in pink and pale white tones. A cloud of fog rolled in from the river valley. As the city woke up, skyships began taking off from distant Skyway Central.

The soft breath of Mila in my ear, connected to me by the Voicecast stone within her armacus, was suddenly interrupted by sounds of banging on the metal-reinforced door of her apartment.

“Wuh?” I heard Mila jolt awake. “Hold on... hold on, damn it! I’m coming!”

I heard her soft footsteps approaching the door and unlocking the latch.

“Yes?” Mila asked.

“Good day, Apothecarist Mila Agamemnon. I’m Scritimancer Ionna Zetsh, and this is my partner Sentinel Krone Orbor,” a female voice spoke.

“Good morning,” Mila muttered groggily. “How may I assist the City Watch?”

“Tonight at 5:32 A.M., there was a break-in at the Axiom Apothecary,” Ionna said. “The crystal recorded a brown haired, approximately seventeen-year-old male perp.”

“Oh,” Mila gasped. “What did he steal?”

“Everything,” Sentinel Orbor added in a deep male voice.

“Shit,” Mila gulped. “Are the general ingredients...?”

“The entire back room was emptied too,” Ionna stated. “Absolutely everything was taken.”

“Gods damn it!” Mila hissed, her voice filling with outrage. “It’ll take me weeks to get the ingredients reordered, sorted, and labeled!”

“Indeed,” Scritimancer Zetsh said. “The ward-stone, the gold safe, and the ingredients safe were cracked open with some kind of an alchemical concoction. We’ve already spoken to Lord Axiom Biron about this matter, and now we’re visiting the employees of the establishment.”

“I’ll assist with the investigation any way I can!” Mila declared firmly. “I bloody organized that back room myself. It took me over three months! I cannot believe that someone had the gall to burglarize an apothecary of all places! We help and heal people! What kind of a vile bastard would…?”

I exhaled.

“Remain calm, my lady,” the Scritimancer silenced Mila. “You were working the evening shift, and you were the one who closed up shop.”

Mila gulped. “I... I didn’t... I was sleeping at home!”

“Lord Axiom does not hold you accountable,” Ionna said.

“That’s a relief,” Mila exhaled, her voice shaky. “Still, I can’t help but feel somewhat responsible. I mean, I was the last one there...”

“Understandable.” Sentinel Orbor’s voice was gruff, yet not unkind.

“We have reason to believe this was a premeditated act,” Ionna added. “The thief clearly knew the layout of the apothecary, and the potency of the alchemical concoction required to break through the wardstone and the safes. Do you know anyone capable of creating acid powerful enough to melt through a magisteel safe?”

“Myself,” Mila said after a momentary pause. “Honestly, any apothecarist or alchemist worth their salt can make concoctions capable of doing such damage. The man who raised me, Alchemist Alaric Milgrim, could easily make enough magic-reinforced acid for such a job in just an hour.”

“Were there any suspicious events of note at the apothecary?” Scritimancer Zetsh pressed the issue. “Do you recall any questionable persons scoping the building?”

“No,” Mila replied after a minute of silence. “I cannot recall anyone like that. I have eidetic memory, so if anyone questionable showed up during my shift, I would have definitely memorized them.”

“Unfortunate.” Ionna sighed. “Do you know anyone who looks like this? A friend, perhaps? A colleague? A client? Someone with this armor set?”

There was a moment of silence from Mila as she must have stared at my image captured by the image-recording crystal. I waited for Mila’s answer with bated breath.

“I do not,” she said finally. “The image is rather dark; plus, he’s wearing a mask hiding his face. That armor looks... very expensive. All of my friends are orphans, so it would be impossible for them to afford adventurer’s armor... It doesn’t look like anyone who works at Axiom either, nor does it look like any of our clients.”

“Did anyone visit you yesterday at the apothecary?” The scritimancer persisted with her line of questions. “Someone who wasn’t a client?”

“Yes,” Mila said. “My friend... Merv, a fellow orphan.”

I nearly fell out of the tree. What the hell, Mila? Is that damn scritimancer girl using some kind of charisma-magic to shake the answers out of you?

“Oh?” Ionna asked. “What did Merv want? Why did he come by?”

“He was exceptionally distressed.” Mila sighed. “Alaric isn’t a very good master to us, you see. He conducts rather questionable experiments on the orphans in his care, testing his alchemical concoctions on them. Merv got hurt very badly by Master Milgrim’s most recent experiment. He was upset. I talked to him for about fifteen minutes allotted to me as a break... and then he left.

“There wasn’t anything I could do for the poor kid! I couldn’t help him at all! There was nothing... nothing at all that I could do to ease his pain! Please, if you’re an honest Watchman, Ionna, you have to take the orphanage away from Alaric Milgrim! The children in his care are going to end up dead if he persists in feeding them his vile potions!”

“I... will look into it if it relates to this case, but it does not sound like it.” Ionna sighed. “It is unfortunately not my jurisdiction.”

“Please...” There was a lot more sniffing coming from Mila. The sniffing grew progressively louder. My friend was crying. Knowing that I was doomed was clearly clawing at her heart.

“We’ll be in touch, Apothecarist Agamemnon. If you remember anything that could assist us in our investigation, please do not hesitate to contact the City Watch,” Ionna said, concluding the interrogation.

“Good day,” Sentinel Orbor added in his baritone.

I heard the Watchmen retreating and the door sliding closed.

“Poor Merv... how I wish I could help you.” Mila sniffed for a few more minutes and then went to the shower.

In another minute, I tuned out the sound of her cooking bacon. I grabbed one of the adventurers packs and unwrapped it, chewing it thoughtfully. Scritimancer Ionna Zetsh had shaken a lot of valuable information out of Mila, including my name. I had to leave Acadia as soon as possible before the local detective shark caught onto my scent.

I emerged out of the bag, activated the eye-redirecting cloak, and climbed down the tree, heading back into town.

***

I turned off the eye-directing runework on the cloak when I spotted the familiar figure in the blue vest.

“Psst, Bolsh,” I hissed.

Bolsh Koper spun on the spot, turning to face me.

“Merv?” The bank teller froze, eyes narrowing. He looked left and right and then quickly joined me in the dim, narrow alleyway.

“Didn’t I tell you not to contact me again?” he hissed dangerously, looking down at me.

“You did.” I nodded. “But there’s a problem. I... can’t leave town as soon as I’d like. Skyway Central is bogged up with damned beemancers searching for drugs.”

“How’s that my problem?” Bolsh raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not,” I said. “I do need another favor from you.”

“It’ll cost you,” Bolsh shot back.

“Fine, fine.” I rolled my eyes at him. “How much would it cost to hire a privateer? An adventurer with their own skyship that can help me leave town?”

“It won’t be cheap,” Bolsh said with a frown. “Privateers with their own ships are a rare breed. Plus my fee. I can place the job posting at the Guild as soon as I get there. Do you have seventy gold on you?”

“I do,” I said, nodding.

“What?!” The teller sputtered. “How?!”

I rummaged in my pocket and produced a pouch with the gold. I pulled a few coins out and shoved the little bag into his hands. “This should cover it.”

Bolsh opened the pouch, his eyes growing wide as he rapidly counted the coins with his skill.

“Damn, Merv,” he said. “Are you multiplying your gold... or something?”

“Or something.” I shrugged. “Get me a privateer, and I’ll leave you alone forever.”

“Fair enough. Do you have a single-use Voicecast stone? I’ll hand it to the adventurer once they accept… the job,” Bolsh said.

“Yep, here you go.” I gave him a small pebble with a Voicecast rune glittering on its surface.

Bolsh cast a questioning look of utter disbelief at me and then rapidly vanished from the alleyway, quickly heading to the Guild.