The Blood of Amietta

V. The Mayor's Council

I don't remember anything, I think to myself as I ransack Arabelle's closet.

It's been nearly two weeks and I still don't remember anything. At this point I don't know if I should be worried or relieved. Part of me knows what it means. Arabelle said it herself– only those with the knowledge to break the seal don't regain their memories.

But that's impossible because I'm from Tsulona and Tsulonians don't know anything about magic or hitchstones or how to break a magical seal.

Too bad the town records were a bust.

I spent hours scouring each page– most of them more than once– hoping to uncover any secrets that the mayor might be hiding. I'm not even sure what I'm looking for. Truthfully, if Noelani hadn't insisted that I see the files, I probably would have given up long ago.

The only interesting thing I found was a letter of proposition written by the mayor herself. It's a simple document outlining the creation of a City Council– an administrational custom that is Nirasian, not Tsulonian. From what I gather, the Council is composed of five members, each a respected member of the community. Their purpose is simple: give the people a say. In other words, keep Noelani from holding too much power over the city she single-handedly created.

With literal magic, I have to remind myself.

Deities, this woman is too powerful.

And hard to track down. I tried last week to get a meeting with her, but the mayor's secretary refused to grant me access. The strict lady handed me a single envelope instead, simply turning me away at the door.

The invitation was strange, but I didn't really think much of it until I showed it to Arabelle. Apparently being invited to one of the mayor's dinner parties is a big deal– and a chance to rub elbows with the most influential figures in town.

Now this could get me somewhere.

Do I want to suffer through hours of polite socializations at the hands of a slightly sadistic mayor/ all-powerful sorcerer? Fuck no. But am I excited and slightly relieved to get the chance to finally demand some information out of said sadistic mayor? Well, yeah.

There's only one snag in the plan so far– I don't have anything to wear. A stupid problem, I know, but one can't expect me to become best pals with Moonwake's finest Council members wearing worn out jeans and a loose t-shirt.

The world just unfortunately doesn't work that way.

That's how I find myself raiding Arabelle's closet at four in the afternoon. The perfect time because Arabelle is currently occupied with preparing her pub to survive a lively Saturday night without her presence. She'll be going with me to the mayor's house, of course.

I have not shared my scheming with Arabelle. I just don't know her that well, and it doesn't seem right to get her involved. Still, I know better than to enter the lion's den without backup. Even ill-informed backup is better than nothing.

Deities, Arabelle really needs to update her wardrobe.

I sigh. It's my own fault. What could one expect from a bar owner? It's not like she has tons of occasions to dress up for or anything.

Eventually, I find a shirt that I think will go well with a pair of black trousers I own. It's a three-quarters sleeved sweater, but the sage green material feels light enough to be comfortable in Moonwake's warmer evenings.

This will do.

The front door slams shut and I hurriedly lug my loot back to my own room before Arabelle catches me.