Announcement

Sorry about the delay. I had finals to work on. Updates should go back to at least once a week.

     

 

 

       I followed Mary further into the city, eventually shaking off the hand of hers that was pulling me along. We followed the road we had initially taken into the city, which went on for a ways before opening up into a wide square. At the far end was another wall with a gate set in it, behind which could be seen a fairly well-to-do estate, at least based off the surrounding houses. All around the square were various buildings with facings clearly meant to exude a prestigious air, although most were too far away for their purpose to be easily identifiable.

 

 

             As she dragged me further into the square, I noticed one corner was filled with tents and temporary pavilions. In this area merchants were hawking their wares and townsfolk, along with those who looked as though they traveled a bit to get here, were shopping for deals. Seating was set up near by, and a few people who already had their bundles of groceries and other purchased goods were enjoying drinks and street food of some sort. There was even a musician playing a flute for tips.

 

          So far this looked just like the kind of scene you’d expect to see in a fantasy world. While the marketplace was a bit hectic it gave off a lively and wholesome air. The faint hint of cooking meat on the light breeze was starting to make me hungry, and as Mary and myself finally stopped in front of a building on the far side of the plaza my stomach let off a growl.

 

“We can grab a bite once we’re done with this nonsense, don’t worry.”

 

“Nonsense?”

 

“As much as I hate having to give this sort of thing even the slightest bit of credence, it is necessary in order for us to register you with the guild later on. It’s not like you can count on the guild issuing a government-accepted identification.”

 

“That makes sense.”

 

“So, as much as it pains me, we’re here to register you as a new tax-paying citizen of the lords realm.”

 

“Wait, what?”

 

With that she grabbed my arm and burst through the door of the building.

 

 

---

 

 

                   After going through a short corridor we found ourselves in a reception area. There were a few tables off to the wall where we entered, and about midway through the room there was a counter with several receptionists working behind it.

 

“Welcome to the lords tax office.” One of them stated in a dry, almost bored tone. “Line 1 is for late payments, Line 2 is for business licenses, line 3…”

 

              At this point her voice trailed off as she took in the appearances of her two new customers.

 

“Mari-!? wha-!? Everyone, get down! What the Hell are you doing here?!”

 

             She shouted, a look of anger and fear upon her face. Several of the other clerks gave a start and dived beneath the counter like schoolchildren in a 1950’s atomic bomb PSA. The clerk who was first to speak crouched down slightly, but continued with her tirade.

 

“We haven’t done anything to deserve this! We didn’t even send a letter this year, much less a tax collector so why…”

 

“I’m here to help my new apprentice register.”

 

            Upon hearing this, the clerks gaze shifted to me with a jerk. One of the clerks, who had previously been out of sight, slowly raised her head to catch a glimpse of me. If I hadn’t had enough reasons already to doubt my decision to apprentice to Mary, this helped drive home the average government official’s perspective of her.

 

           Mary slowly walked her way over to the counter, with me following. As she approached the clerk recoiled back instinctively before catching herself. She reached under the counter, and withdrew a set of forms.

 

“Do you just need to register a change of address?”

 

“She’s not in the system at all.”

 

“What? Is she from another country?”

 

“She’s an otherworlder.”

 

“Of course” the clerk spat out. “You couldn’t get a normal apprentice; one of you wasn’t bad enough, you just had to get an otherworlder.”

 

She let out a sigh, then handed me a form to fill out. “There’s pens and ink at the tables. I’m guessing she’s expecting you to have the same arrangement she has, so I wont even bother explaining how tax day works.”

 

              Going over to the table, I glanced over the form. All the information was basic. Name, place of residence, occupation and boss. For these last few, Mary filled them out for me. My new place of residence, officially, is “The Madness Witch's Cottage,” which is probably the most notorious place name I’ve lived at since “West Philly.” But now, at least in the eyes of the government officials here, I was officially an “Apprentice Witch” working for Mary Korppi. I handed the form off to the receptionist, her nametag reading Sherry, and she went off into the back room.

 

15 minutes and some mechanical sounding noises later, she returned with a metallic plate, upon which was engraved the information from the form I filled out.

 

“Hand,” she said curtly.

 

“?”

 

“Hold out your hand.”

 

Confused, I slowly held my hand out towards her. She deftly poked my index finger with a needle, then rubbed the plate against the drop of blood that welled up.

 

“Ow.”

 

“Quit complaining. Now the card's registered to you.” She then addressed Mary. “Are you registering her at the guild next?”

 

“We were going to grab lunch first.”

 

“Good to know. Have a nice day.”

 

 

---

 

 

                Upon exiting the building, I noticed the atmosphere of the square had changed slightly. Honestly it probably would have gone over the heads of a normal person, but at times I tend to be a bit perceptive of when I’m being observed. And we definitely were being watched.

 

                 While before there were just two guards by the gates towards what I’m forced to assume is the lord's residence, that number had been tripled since we had entered the office, and they made it no secret that they were watching us. The guards around the plaza, who had earlier been relaxed, seemed rather tense, as if they were expecting a fight to break out.

 

               Mary paid them no mind and headed over to the market place, with me scurrying on after her. She stopped at a booth emitting the absolutely delicious scent of baked crust and seared beef.

 

“Two pies please. Oh, and two drinks. Radler would be great if you have it.”

 

           The shopkeep seemed used to her.

 

“Nice to see you again! I see you have a new friend with you. Finally got an apprentice?” he asked while good-naturedly setting two pies and two wooden mugs on the counter. Mary set down some coins before grabbing one of the pies and drinks, and motioned for me to do the same. Given the reactions she had been getting, it was odd to see someone who seemed glad to see her.

 

              We walked over to one of the tables nearby. I bit in to the pie, and the hot taste of cooked steak flooded my mouth, with gravy, onion and potato complimenting the rich taste of the freshly cooked beefsteak and the buttery flavor of the crust. The pie was perfectly complimented by the radler, the refreshing acidity and sweetness of the lemon and the maltiness of the lager cutting through the greasiness of the pie.

 

           Out of unfortunate habit born from my time in the military, the pie disappeared in a matter of seconds, and I was forced to sit for a few minutes sipping my beer while Mary slowly ate hers.

 

“That shopkeeper is a good guy. He used to act a bit colder towards me, but after I helped him out with an incident he’s gotten much more open. Though I’d always stop at his booth before then, since his pies were the best value for money.”

 

“Incident?”

 

“The guards falsely accused his pies of making people sick. They were accusing him of using meat from a cattle murrain.  But of course I couldn’t let them persecute someone who makes such delicious pies! I argued with the magistrate on his behalf, proving that the sick had gotten infected with a disease called anthrax, which primarily is found in sheep, cattle and horses. So there’s no way that his pies could have caused the sickness!”

 

“…”

 

That sure as hell wasn’t poultry or pork in that pie.

 

What the hell did I just eat?