I shouted and kept running toward the dining hall, determined not to be late. The tower’s corridors were dimly lit at this hour, the flickering torches casting long shadows on the stone walls. My footsteps echoed as I sprinted past closed doors and quiet alcoves, the air growing warmer and more fragrant as I neared the dining hall.
After racing down the large stairs to the first floor, I zipped past a couple of apprentices who were already leaving. The dining hall was about to close, and I couldn’t afford to miss my meal.
Sliding to a halt just past the doors, I felt the dining hall come alive around me. The hum of conversation and the clatter of trays filled the air, mingling with the rich aroma of food. My stomach growled loudly as I approached the counter, where an apprentice was dishing out meals. The menu was simple tonight: soup with bread or curry with rice.
I hesitated for a moment. The soup was cheap and filling, but the curry smelled amazing—rich and spicy, with hints of ginger and garlic. I decided to splurge a little. “Curry with rice, please,” I said, handing over a few coins.
The apprentice behind the counter gave me a tired smile as he handed me a tray. “Good choice,” he said. “The curry’s spicy tonight—just the way I like it.”
I took my tray and scanned the room for a seat. The dining hall was massive—300 meters long, with rows of stone pillars lining the sides like ancient Greek ruins. Three long wooden tables stretched across the room, each dominated by one of the three advanced apprentices present tonight.
I sat down with my back to the wall, giving me a clear view of the room. The three advanced apprentices were impossible to miss, each holding court at their respective tables.
- Ysondre: She sat at the central table, her sharp features and piercing green eyes scanning the room like a predator. Her followers—a mix of intermediates and beginners—clustered around her, hanging on her every word. They were the largest faction, and their presence dominated the hall.
- Grimshaw: To the left, Grimshaw’s faction was in full swing. His deep, gravelly voice carried over the dining table as he regaled his followers with another story. They laughed loudly, their boisterous energy spilling over to the neighbouring tables. I’d heard rumours that Grimshaw once killed a swamp alligator with his bare hands, and looking at him now, I could believe it.
- Tasselia: On the right, Tasselia held court with her usual charm. Her followers—a mix of beginners and intermediates—laughed and chatted like old friends. She had a way of making everyone feel welcome, but I’d heard whispers that her kindness came with a price.
I glanced toward the pillars on the left, where Dorceti’s faction usually sat, but the space was empty tonight. Similarly, the table near the kitchen, usually occupied by Geranis and his followers, was deserted. Their absence made the hall feel quieter, almost eerie.
Just as I took my first bite of curry, the doors to the dining hall slammed open. All conversation stopped as heads turned toward the entrance. Ysondre stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the stone floor. Her sharp green eyes narrowed as she stared at the doorway, her posture tense, like a coiled spring.
“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, her voice cutting through the silence.
A messenger—a young apprentice I didn’t recognize—stood in the doorway, panting and clutching a sealed scroll. He hesitated under Ysondre’s glare before stammering, “A message… for you, ma’am. From Master Wilson.”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Ysondre’s expression darkened. She strode toward the messenger, her movements fluid and predatory. Snatching the scroll from his hands, she broke the seal and scanned the contents. Her face went pale, and for a moment, she looked almost… unsettled. Then, just as quickly, her mask of composure returned.
“Grimshaw, Tasselia,” she said, her voice low but carrying across the room. “We need to talk. Now.”
Grimshaw raised an eyebrow, his usual smirk fading. “What’s this about, Ysondre?”
“Not here,” she snapped, her tone leaving no room for argument. She turned on her heel and swept out of the dining hall, her followers scrambling to keep up. Grimshaw and Tasselia exchanged a glance before rising and following her, their factions trailing behind.
The room erupted into hushed whispers as soon as the doors closed behind them. “What was that about?” A voice rose from a nearby table, low and uneasy.
“Who knows?” Another apprentice leaned in, their tone tinged with nervousness. “But it’s never good when Ysondre looks like that.”
I glanced around the room, my unease growing. The group in the corner was whispering more fervently now, their eyes darting toward the door. Were they talking about Ysondre? About me? I didn’t know, but it made my skin crawl.
I took another bite of curry, the flavours exploding on my tongue—spicy, savoury, and just a hint of sweetness. I closed my eyes for a moment, savouring the warmth that spread through my body. It had been a long day, and this small indulgence felt like a reward for surviving the inspection round.
As I ate, my mind wandered back to the murlock encounter. The memory of the elder murlock’s lifeless body sent a shiver down my spine. I could still see its jagged teeth and glowing, predatory eyes, smell the damp, rotting stench of its breath, and feel the icy grip of fear that had paralyzed me. My hand instinctively went to the scar on my leg—a permanent reminder of how close I’d come to death. I had been lucky—too lucky. If the other murlocks had caught me, I wouldn’t be sitting here now, savouring this meal.
I glanced at my pouch, hidden under the table, and thought about the murlock corpse inside. The scales would make good armor, but I had no idea how many I needed or how to craft them into something useful. I’d have to ask Percy or Hayden for advice. Hopefully, Percy knows someone—or something.
My thoughts drifted to the water sprite gardens, where I’d risked just as much. The sprites’ shimmering wings and eerie glow had been mesmerizing, but their sharp cries still echoed in my ears. I’d waited for the guards to turn their backs before darting into the fields, cutting the water grass as quickly as I could. If they had caught me, I wouldn’t be here now, reflecting on my close calls. The gardens were beautiful, but beauty had a way of hiding danger—I’d learned that the hard way.
My thoughts turned to Vayentha. The way she had barged into my room, demanding the murlock corpse, still bothered me. I had played it cool, but the truth was, I didn’t fully trust her. She had changed too much, too quickly. Her green eyes and sharp nails were unnerving, and the way she talked about the corpse—like it was a treasure—made me wonder what she was really planning. Was she an ally? A threat? Or just another pawn in Wilson’s game?
My gaze drifted across the dining hall. The room was a microcosm of the tower’s hierarchy. The three advanced apprentices and their factions dominated the central tables, while the intermediates and beginners like me were scattered along the edges. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. The group in the corner was still whispering, and every now and then, one of them would glance in my direction. Were they talking about Vayentha? Or was it something else entirely? I didn’t know, but it made my skin crawl.
As I finished my meal, I noticed Percy standing near the doorway. He wasn’t looking at me directly, but I could tell he was waiting for something—or someone. When our eyes met, he gave me a subtle nod and disappeared into the hallway.
I hesitated for a moment. Percy was the tower’s information broker, and if anyone could help me figure out what to do with the murlock scales and water grass, it was him. But I didn’t fully trust him. He always seemed to know more than he let on, and I wasn’t sure if he was an ally or just another opportunist. Still, I didn’t have many options.
I grabbed my tray, returned it to the counter, and made my way to the door.