After my meeting with Geraldine, Grimoire took me to the training room and we started training again. I got the impression he was taking out some frustrations on me, though that may have been the exercise where he had me drop to the ground, do a push up to a standing position and jump before doing it again.

  He made me do fifty of them. Then we started with the staff.

  As I moved the staff, he started quizzing me on the History of Greathall, pulling out the book I’d been reading from. I knew it was the same copy because of the bookmark I’d left in it. Though it was hard to pay too much attention moving the heavy stick around.

  “When was nation of Greathall founded and by whom?” He said, slapping my calf with a different staff to get me to adjust my footing.

  I overcorrected and had to take a moment to focus on my feet before answering. I got another couple of whacks directed at the staff, making my response take longer as the strikes ran through the staff and up my arms.

  After a moment, and moving to a different stance, I answered, “The date isn’t known, but it was at least a thousand. And it was founded by the gods of the land.”

  “How do we know this?” He asked, reaching over and adjusting my arms to the right position. They’d drooped and I was having a hard time keeping them up.

  Grimoire had said we could stop whenever I felt the need, but rather than give into the sore muscles I just cast my Heal spell and kept going. “I didn’t understand what the book said and was going to go over it again.”

  He looked at me, puzzled, “What do you mean?”

  “It said because the buildings were indestructible, but if they’re made of stone or wood you could just… break them, right? Why would them being indestructible matter anyway?” I huffed, moving into a guard stance.

  The elf stared at me for a moment before nodding, “Fair questions, I suppose. Take a break.”

  I practically collapsed into a sitting position, using the staff to lower myself to the ground. It was incredibly unladylike, but I didn’t care. Neither did Grimoire, because he just offered me a leather pouch with a nub on end. “Here, drink. It’s water.”

  I took it, looking at it for a moment before taking the nub in my mouth and squeezing water into it. I let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

  He let me rest a moment before finally answering my question. “Indestructible buildings are considered system buildings. System buildings are designed to serve a specific purpose and can be upgraded over time. They often include crystals that people with the right permissions or classes can access.”

  I nodded along, “Okay, so… what only the gods can make them?”

  Grimoire shook his head, “No, they can be built using the city crystal, but it’s expensive and usually cheaper to just build something of local materials.”

  “So… only important buildings?” I asked again, feeling like this would be closer.

  “Right. Or things that have a special function. Cotton Rock is one of those.” He flipped the pages in the book.

  “Cotton Rock?” What a weird name for something. I thought, before asking, “What, is that a plant that makes rocks?”

  “What? No, it’s a rock that produces cotton.” He looked up at me like I was an idiot. “The Germaine family actually controls it and have workers on hand harvesting it every day and night. On days when it has a surge of power the cotton spores can cover the entire city.”

  I blinked in surprise, “That… sounds like it’d be nice to look at actually.”

  The butler took on a thoughtful expression, “Perhaps, though it is a massive fire hazard. It usually gets cleaned up fast enough. Often there’s even an impromptu market that springs up that people can sell the cotton they gather to.”

  I shrugged and took another long drink from the best water I’ve ever had. It wasn’t really, I was just thirsty after working out.

  “I believe you also asked about how we know the gods were involved?” He asked as he took the pouch back and set it on a table in the room. I nodded and he continued, “It’s because their signatures are on the control crystals.”

  My brow furrowed, “What?”

  He chuckled, “It’s true. In fact, Alamara was the one who built Cotton Rock, as well as a few other oddities. She’s associated with Melrose and Quintius, though from the scripture neither have much control over her.”

  “Sounds like a troublemaker.” I smiled, but a face flashed through my mind. Different from the ones in the dream last night. The details had been fuzzy, but there’d been a lot of green and yellow.

  “A bit. Stories about her always involve a great deal of mischief.” Grimoire smiled fondly, “Usually ending up with someone getting covered in crap or some other mess.”

  I shook my head and stood up, using the staff for help. I started to get into position again, but Grimoire waved me down, “No, we’re done with that for the day.”

  “Oh?” I asked, even if I was already moving to put the staff back on the rack, “Why’s that?”

  “Priest Toren is here.” He nodded towards the door. Not even a second later, a maid opened the door.

  “Uh, Chief Grimoire. There’s a priest looking for Lady Danielle? He’s waiting in the Steel Study.” She bowed before leaving.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  I looked at Grimoire, brow furrowed again. “Was that a skill… or really good hearing?”

  “Neither. I felt the vibrations in the floor.” He pointed down, and I frowned. “Tremorsense is a rare trait that takes a lot of work to get, but is rather useful.”

  “Maybe I should try and pick it up…” I said, moving towards the door with Grimoire.

  “Maybe I will teach you.” He smiled cordially, “But first, you must learn the basics.”

  He motioned me out of the training room before taking me through the manor towards Priest Toren.

  I sat with the older man in a room that was full of wood panels, shelves laden with weapons, and stands that held different styles of armor. None of them looked usable, but not due to lack of care. It was because they were all damaged in various ways. Often with significant scorch marks around gashes and punctures.

  I tried to ignore the gruesome trophy room and sipped at the tea Grimoire had served before leaving, setting a bell down in case we needed a refill. Toren was across the table, sniffing at his own cup. He took a sip, frowned and pulled a flask out of his robe. After pouring some into his cup, he took another sip and let out a sigh of satisfaction.

  I held my cup out for him to add to mine. He looked at me, then the cup and shrugged, adding a little into it. Less than in his, but as I tasted it I could tell why. It made me sputter and cough a bit as I stared at it. “What is that?” I asked when I finally caught my breath.

  He caught his breath too, though he’d been laughing at me. “What? I’m a Priest, so of course I deal with spirits.” He chuckled at his own joke, “You’ll be fine. It’s only ninety proof. Dwarves would joke it’s water.”

  Despite myself, I took another sip. I avoided coughing this time, but the face I made still gave him another bought of chuckling. “Funny.” Sighing, I set the cup down and looked at him. “They explain anything in their message.”

  His jovial mood broke, “A bit, though it was a bit vague. Something about you assaulting a maid and needing an examination.”

  I leaned back and let out a deep sigh. “That’s what I found out after recovering from Porter waking me up by throwing me at a wall.”

  “He did what?” His voice had gone flat, losing his fatherly expression.

  I raised my hands defensively, “Calm down, Gramps. He was protecting the maid.”

  His chest was puffed up like some angry bird, but he slowly unruffled his figurative feathers. “I suppose you should start with what you remember.”

  I shrugged, “I was still asleep, apparently. I woke up on impact with bloody knuckles.”

  Toren blinked at me, “That’s… unusual, but not unheard of from traumatic experiences. Were you dreaming? If so, what can you remember about it?”

  A heavy weight seemed to settle in my chest as I started to think back to the dream. It had faded as the day wore on, but the emotions were clear. “Not a lot of details. I remember metal hallways and rooms. Faces I didn’t recognize, but did at the same time. And…” My fists clenched in front of me hard enough the knuckles went white, “And rage. A lot of it.”

  Toren took a thoughtful sip. After a moment to collect his thoughts, “And you think its about…” He looked towards the door and pursed his lips thinking of a way to phrase it. “What you want to keep hidden, right?”

  I nodded.

  Letting out his own deep sigh, he knocked back his cup and poured some more tea, adding a larger splash of his spirits. He picked it up and leaned back in his chair, his thoughts tossing about behind his eyes. “You may be right… but I don’t think that’s the issue.”

  “Huh?” I asked, confused.

  He took a deep breath, “Danielle. You had a traumatic incident.” He held his hand up as I started to speak, “I don’t mean what happened before you woke up in the alley, and before you ask how I knew, Porter met me in the foyer and filled me in.”

  I closed my mouth and sipped my boozy tea.

  “You woke up in a strange city. In a strange body. You have a family who you have no memory of trying to help, but not knowing how. And you have…” He paused, trying to decide on what words to use, “A lot of responsibility. Honestly, the only thing that is unusual is physically attacking someone in your sleep, but I suspect that was a reaction from them trying to wake you.”

  I frowned, though I couldn’t disagree with him. “So… it’s not something to worry about?”

  “Oh, absolutely not. You need therapy and possibly medicinal aids to help you sleep until you can work through some of this.” He snorted, “And probably a lock on your room that only you have the key to.”

  I stared into the almost empty cup of tea and thought about the nightmare, trying to dredge up something. “What about the dream? What could those places mean? Who were those people?”

  He waved me down, “Nothing to worry about for now. If it happens again, write down what you remember, but otherwise don’t dwell on it, if you can.”

  I gave him a flat stare, “Are you telling me to just… not think about it?”

  He snorted, “No. I’m saying when it pops into your head, think about something else. I know a good friend, a mage, who thinks about math everytime he has the urge to light something on fire. Considering he’s a pyromaniac, trait and title both, he burnt anything he wasn’t supposed ot in years.” He started to take a drink and paused, “Well, not officially anyway. I suspect he probably has a room or random plot of land where he lights stuff on fire.”

  Not able to help myself, I chuckled at his words and finished off my tea, pouring myself more and holding my cup out for another bit of liquor. “I think I get your point.”

  “Oh? I was making a point?” He smiled and cheerily poured me a larger dollop from the flask.

  I shook my head and took a sip, trying and failing to not make a face. “Don’t give it energy. If it pops into my head, acknowledge it and move on. Right?”

  Toren looked at me and nodded sagely. “Yes, that does sound like sage advice, doesn’t it?”

  Rolling my eyes, I smiled with genuine appreciation at the old man. “Thanks for coming to see me, by the way. I couldn’t think of who else to… talk to.”

  “You mean to trust.” He said with certainty. “I understand. Oaths tend to do that, though I’ll admit I was hesitant to come.”

  “Why was that?” I asked, curious.

  He leaned forward, “Do you know how dangerous it is to get the attention of a diety, Danielle?” He lowered his voice to a whisper, “Or how dangerous a moderator can be?”

  I gulped, looking nervously towards the door before shaking my head.

  Toren leaned back against his chair, “Very. To both. Our meeting was short, and I didn’t know much about you. The message did not give me a better impression of you either.”

  I forced myself to look him in the eyes, “And now?”

  His mouth twisted from side to side as he considered how to answer. “Now… Now I think you’re just… scared. Whoever you were also left some scars, no matter which person you talk about.” Toren smiled with the kindness cultivated over years of caring for those in need, “But I will help you as best I can. You have my word on that.”

  My vision got a little fuzzy and I wiped my eyes, finding tears there. How’d that happen? I thought. I took a few seconds to collect myself, wiping at my eyes a few more times before responding. “Thank you, Grandpa Toren. It means a lot.”

  He reached over and patted my hand, “I know.” Then he drained the rest of his cup and stood up, “Though I believe that’s all I have time for tonight, unfortunately. I’ll talk to Porter and your butler about setting up another appointment. How’s this weekend sound?”

  I snorted, “Sure, I guess. I still don’t know what day it is.”

  He smirked and headed for the door, patting my shoulder as he did, “Oh? Well, that’s pretty obvious. Terrible things always happen on a Tuesday.”