“If I understand you correctly, Asterfal has two distinct councils. The city council oversees its day-to-day running and then the regional council, which comprises the surrounding townships’ members,” SJ said.
“Yes. In the simplest terms. Their work is aligned and integrated more than it may appear when looking from the outside. The city council makes the majority of decisions brought to the regional council. Since any votes brought to the regional council have already been ratified and agreed upon by the city council, the major problem is that the city council always holds the majority of seats in the regional council, resulting in most votes going in their favour. The only way to challenge is by having the necessary relationships with various city councillors and bringing them to the side of the towns,” Zigferd said.
Alice had been briefing SJ on various elements of the council and its structure. Still, her defining comment was that until she experienced it herself, no explanation would give it justice. “It seems then that there is not much point in having a vote if they always go in the city’s favour?”
“It comes down to the reputation you hold with other councillors in the city. Killic has built a strong reputation over the years. Alice has spent significant time nurturing many councillors and building rapport.”
“Can the towns not bring votes?”
“They can. This is where the relationships come to the forefront. If you want to have a chance of getting a vote passed, it takes time and commitment. You also have to consider the other towns as well. Just because they are a town doesn’t mean everyone supports your concerns. Killic’s main trade goods are stone and corn. If they are from a town that provides other produce for trade, they may not be willing to support a vote to improve the payments for corn or stone if it means there is less money for their produce.”
“Considering everything you have said, I assume that the main purpose of the council’s role relates to trade?”
“No. That was just a specific example. The council can present everything, from guild creation to land rights, protection orders, trade route negotiations, and tax rates. If you think of it, it can potentially be a consideration. Most of the council functions and votes have no direct impact on Killic.”
SJ sat looking out of the coach’s window. As soon as the conversation turned to discussing the political makeup of Asterfal, Cristy excused herself and climbed onto the roof to sit with the coach driver. The landscape rolled by outside as they traversed the valley floor. They had passed the newly constructed gates at the crags and followed the winding path down the valley. On reaching the base, the coach’s pace picked up on the flatter terrain.
It was amazing how fast they were travelling. A team of six horses pulled the coach, and the land outside flashed by. It had taken them no time to cross the bridge at the meandering river, where SJ had travelled to find the mushrooms for Grewlas in the cave network. Looking out the window, she read the wooden signpost listing Asterfal and Cuopi. The open fields stretched into the distance, and the sky above still had the usual bright blue. The scene could have been on a postcard. It looked serene and beautiful. SJ had learned, though, that much of Amathera’s beauty she had become used to had hidden dangers.
Before she left Killic, Alice warned her to take more clothes than just her dress. SJ had queried the comment, but it was because of the weather variations she would encounter. Between Killic and Asterfal, they would cross two territory boundaries. SJ had only seen a boundary previously at a distance when she had fallen from the cliff with the rock gobbler and was excited to see the transition.
Asterfal sat in a territory with levels of 30-40. The city itself was unbound and could allow for quests for any level within its walls, within limitations. Even Dave struggled to thoroughly explain the complex beast that was the quest system and how it was computed and delivered by the system to beings. The fact that the entire population could use the quests system as the primary job market was overwhelming.
Zigferd was sitting reading through various parchments, and SJ focused on her display, opening her map as she did. Zooming in on where they were and watching the fog of war clear as they followed the main track towards Asterfal. It was a strange sensation seeing the map adjust as they travelled. It appeared that it would open up a couple of hundred feet on either side, and if she could see something to focus on, such as a copse of trees in the distance, they would also appear, but the land between would still be under the fog of war.
“Ah. SJ, here you go,” Zigferd said, handing a parchment to her.
Taking the parchment, SJ unrolled it and saw the drawing of the structure of the council of Asterfal. Over the past few months she had been learning about the council structure. It reminded SJ of an organisation chart from her last company. There were no names of individuals but a complex and what appeared to be a convoluted layer of teams that all led up to the chancellor sitting at the top.
“The structure still amazes me. There are so many levels,” SJ stated.
“Yes. Asterfal is complex. Any positions listed below the second stage are not for you to worry about. Your level as an ambassador of a town will give you access to the higher council positions. Nothing below this level can influence.”
Considering how many companies had been structured from her role as a Forensic Accountant, SJ disagreed with Zigferd’s comment. From experience, she was aware that the lower-level positions in business had a significant impact on their direction and motivation. She could not see this not being the case here and believed there might be an untapped area for consideration. She was determined to meet as many council members as possible if she had time.
The primary functions she would be required to consider were diplomatic relations and economic influence. With the increased attention Asterfal had begun to pay to Killic, she was aware of their significant interest in the town’s growth because of the mithril mine.
Killic was reliant on the mine. Without its income, the town couldn’t afford the exponential costs associated with the expansion. Its border had already increased the town’s area of control to ten times what it had been prior with the newly placed geographic town border markings. The new tax levies associated with controlled land within the region were significantly more than Killic had previously paid.
This alone could draw unnecessary attention from parties interested in the area. SJ had questioned what changes it would make, and Dave had explained that town benefits would be extended to the borders. Productivity in the town improved because of the bonuses, resulting in several benefits. The exact details were unknown to Dave, who had never had a Legionnaire who controlled a town.
Only Zigferd and Alice had access to the management aspects, which had not been openly discussed, although she had some basic ideas. It was enlightening to know that town management levels impacted work completed on the town’s behalf. The management levels were intrinsically linked to productivity—an example she had been given by Dave related to crop growth. If the fields were within the boundary of a town with the cultivation perk unlocked, they could improve their yield. SJ had learned that the town had its own skill tree, for the better of a word.
The first stop on the journey to Asterfal was at the Cuopi village, where SJ hoped she would meet up with the elf they had freed from the necromancer’s capture. She had never known his name but remembered he had said it was only a tiny village. The remainder of the journey on their first day was uneventful. Cristy had spent most of the day with the driver, who was an old elf. He had been doing the Asterfal run for over a century. He knew every inch of the route to such a detailed level that he would steer the wagon, knowing the perfect line for the horses to take to avoid ruts. The passage had been so smooth in the coach, its suspension absorbing any bumps in the track.
As the sun faded in the sky, the tiny village of Cuopi came into sight. It was situated at the edge of a woods. Tall fir trees grew around the village. The village only comprised a dozen buildings, and as they reached it, the coach slowed down and stopped outside a low-fronted building with a sign gently swinging above its entrance. There was a picture of a laughing elf on the sign. The name ‘Jolly Elf’ was emblazoned above the door. As the coach stopped, a young elf appeared from a stable area positioned off to the side of the inn.
“Hi Alef,” he smiled to the driver as he ran to open the coach door, unfolding the steps.
“Braslow. I hope your mother has some of her famous stew on?” Alef replied as he climbed from the driver’s seat.
“She does,” Braslow said.
“Braslow,” Zigferd said as he climbed from the coach, stretching his enormous frame.
“Zigferd. I didn’t realise we would have your company this evening,” Braslow replied.
It was strange hearing Zigferd addressed by his name. SJ was used to everyone in Killic addressing him as mayor, except for herself and Alice.
“It’s that time of year again, unfortunately. Duty beckons in Asterfal.”
“Has a year passed already? It seems like only the other month you passed through.”
“You elves do have the luxury of time compared to many,” Zigferd smiled.
SJ thought Braslow looked to be in his late teens or early twenties.
“Ha. I am not that much older than you,” Braslow said.
Cristy jumped from the coach, landing spritely next to Zigferd as SJ climbed down.
“And who do we have here?” Braslow asked.
“This is SJ, and the young scamp here is Cristy,” Zigferd replied.
“Welcome both to the Jolly Elf,” Braslow said.
“Thanks,” Cristy said.
SJ wasn’t sure how to respond. She stared at the young elf, trying to figure out his age. If he was older than Zigferd and Zigferd had run Killic for over fifty years, his looks were not computing. Realising that she had never asked or enquired about any elf’s ages, she remembered the initial conversations with Dave when she arrived and the ages that elves could live.
Braslow stood looking at SJ, smiling, tilting his head to one side. After a few moments, he spoke, “Is there something wrong? You look like you have a question.”
“Sorry,” SJ spluttered. “Thank you for the welcome. You look so young,” feeling her cheeks redden as she finished the sentence, not meaning to verbalise her thoughts.
Braslow’s grin grew even larger than it already was. “Well, it isn’t every day I get compliments about how young I look.”
Zigferd laughed, and Alef sighed from where he was untethering the horses. “You realise we will not hear the end of that now for the next fifty years,” Alef said.
“Zigferd.” a tall elf stood in the doorway to the inn called.
“Jolathan,” Zigferd said. “I hope you have been well?”
“It’s been okay. There have been a few minor problems, but nothing that can’t be dealt with. Let me pour some ales, and we can catch up,” Jolathan replied.
Zigferd had walked up to Jolathan and shook his hand with a warm smile. “That sounds like a great idea. Only ale for me and SJ, though. Cristy here is still too young.”
Cristy turned to look at Zigferd, scowling. “I am not that young,” she rebuked.
“You can’t drink until you finish your age of development. You know the rules,” Zigferd said, not biting at Cristy’s response.
Cristy turned her lip up sulkily. Her ears flattened as she did. Her expressions were so different, and she had matured so quickly. Cristy had been spending time with Alice recently. Alice had begun to discuss druidic elements with her, and Cristy was still deciding on the class she wished to take. It had appeared that the relationship between Patch and the pack was unusual, and Alice hadn’t been able to confirm why it held as it did. SJ had spoken to Dave, but he also had no explanation. She was just classed as part of the pack. They were her family.
The reputation that SJ held with Cristy was beyond any system-designated standing. The pack followed the thoughts of Cristy. This had confused Dave as he had never been aware of how a reputation held by a gnoll could influence a dire wolf.
SJ followed them into the inn, leaving Alef and Braslow to tend to the horses. Zigferd had to stoop to enter the inn. The inside was brightly lit with lanterns, and a fire burned in the large hearth. There were only half a dozen tables and a short bar at one end with a doorway next to it. The smell of cooking permeated the inn. As they entered, the half dozen patrons greeted Zigferd, who replied in kind. Jolathan showed them to a table and asked them to sit. Moving behind the bar, two large ales with foaming tops and a third mug of another liquid were poured.
“Here you go,” Jolathan said, placing the mugs on the table. He handed one to Zigferd and SJ and passed the other to Cristy. Cristy picked hers up, sniffing it before tasting the liquid it contained. Within moments, she gulped the lot. Jolathan laughed and took her mug to refill it. “I thought you might like that,” he said as he returned with another.
“What was that?” SJ asked.
“No idea, but it tastes amazing,” Cristy replied.
SJ took her mug and tasted the ale. It had a deep, earthy taste with notes of honey. It was pleasant, and she took a deep drink before placing her mug down.
“Jolathan, get in here and stir the stew so I can come and greet our guests,” a female voice called from the back room, where the kitchen must be.
“Coming, dear,” Jolathan replied, rolling his eyes.
Zigferd chuckled as he turned, leaving them to have their drinks.
Moments later, a female elf walked from the kitchen. She was tall and elegant, her features sharp and chiselled. Her smile was warm, and her eyes sparkled with mirth. Her long chestnut brown hair was plaited tightly down her back. SJ thought she looked no older than forty but would not even attempt to guess her age.
“Zigferd,” she said warmly as she walked straight up to him as he stood up. Throwing her arms around his large frame, she hugged him.
“Salaril. How are you, my dear?” Zigferd replied.
“I am well. You look tired,” she said, stepping back and frowning at him.
“I am fine,” Zigferd said.
“You also look like you’re wasting away,” Salaril said.
If there was one thing SJ would never have associated with Zigferd, it was someone wasting away. He was a bear of a man, literally.
“After a bowl of your famous stew, I will be right as rain again,” he chuckled.
“And who else do we have with you?”
Zigferd again introduced SJ and Cristy.
“Welcome. I will have three rooms prepared for you this evening. Will you be having breakfast before you depart?” Salaril asked.
“We will,” Zigferd replied.
“I better go and check on the stew. Jolathan, after all these years, still can’t be trusted in the kitchen,” Salaril said, smiling.
As they were sitting with their second mug of ale, three large steaming bowls of stew with freshly baked bread were served. The three of them ate in silence, savouring the delicious food. Zigferd asked for a second bowl, to Salaril’s delight.
Several more elves entered the inn as the evening wore on, and two began playing what SJ believed were flutes, the soft music adding to the friendly warmth of the inn. Jolathan was sitting and talking to Zigferd about recent events. They had noticed the increase in traffic to Killic, and although the customers were welcome, they weren’t all as amiable. One in particular had been rude and refused to pay for their lodging. Zigferd took the individual’s name and promised to inquire about them, not knowing the name.
SJ felt pleasantly tired and thought of turning in when the inn door opened. As the elf entered, his face lit up in a wide smile as he spotted SJ. SJ didn’t recognise him at first because of his appearance. The last time she had seen him, he was dishevelled and emaciated. He stood tall and proud and carried a longbow on his shoulder, with a string of three birds in his hand. The birds resembled pheasants.
SJ stood as recognition set in. “You look well.”
“Thanks to you,” he said as he walked over.
Zigferd looked quizzically at them as the elf reached out and took SJ’s hand.
“I am sorry I can’t remember your name,” SJ said apologetically.
“Jasitu,” he said.
“I will come and talk in a moment if that is ok. I need to get the birds to Salaril.”
“Of course,” SJ said, sitting back down.
“How do you know Jasitu?” Zigferd asked as he disappeared into the kitchen.
“He was one of the elves we freed from the necromancer,” SJ explained.
“What necromancer?” Cristy asked.
SJ then had to explain what had happened with Lythonian and Zej helping dispose of the necromancer near Farleck Cottage. Jasitu returned shortly after, with the evening passing with light-hearted and enjoyable conversation. When SJ eventually turned in for the night, she could hardly keep her eyes open.
