Book 3 Prologue: The Princess is in Another Castle

Book 3 Prologue: The Princess is in Another Castle

The alembic fizzled and popped behind the glass shield, then turned a horrifying black colour. Toxic fumes erupted from its mouth in a cloud of smoke. Tourmaline Barnes sighed and activated [Clean Air], whisking the dangerous aethers away. Another failure, and shed been so hopeful this time.

She wiped some sweat from brow, and adjusted the mask that kept her beard out of all the dangerous chemicals in her workspace. Not that there were any errant bottles to be knocked over. Tourmaline was a fastidious [Toxicologist] and wouldnt allow anything so vulgar as disorganization keep her from perfecting her work.

The alembic hissed, like a Stonesnake trapped in a dive. Tourmaline activated [Safety Shield] just before it burst, but the surge of volatile liquid was contained by the large tank she used for dangerous experiments.

That was different from the previous attempts, and Tourmaline took down careful notes of everything she saw. The scent, the colour, the depth that it scored the glass - all of it was useful in her quest to save her kin. She would have a cure to the poison killing her mother within the decade, she was sure of it.

If only there werent so many blasted distractions!

Speaking of which, there was a knock on her door. Tourmaline let whoever it was wait outside as she swept and cleaned, ensuring everything was back in its correct place. She then took a moment to arrange her hair, remove her beard net, and apply some scent. Nobility had to keep up appearances after all.

She glanced in the mirror, giving herself a once-over. The dwarfess that looked back at her was a classic beauty, with silver hair hanging from her head down to her waist in shining drills. Her silver beard was festooned in golden ornaments studded with her namesake tourmalines. A serious gaze set in soft features, and sweeping eyebrows. While she hated the necessity, she could at least acknowledge that she was a fine specimen of dwarf. The image was only partly ruined by the dirty lab coat.

Only when she was properly dressed in a shimmering set of mithril half-armour and a silver gown did she open the door, revealing a patiently waiting gnomish [Courier].

Toxicologist Tourmaline? I have a message for you. He said, bowing at the waist.

Tourmaline nodded imperiously, accepting the small slip of paper that the [Courier] pulled out of nowhere. After reading it, she gave a few brief words of thanks, then sent him on his way.

She followed a moment later, into the drafty halls of Castle Barnes. Now there was a misnomer! The castles within the White Wall of Kinshasa were nothing like the human constructions of towering bricks and mortar. From its grand entrance in the Court of Nobles to its farthest corner, Castle Barnes was a labyrinth of solid stone tunnels snaking deep through the Erd. Their walls were reinforced by magic and patrolled by the finest of [Knights] and [Speakers]. Not even a cat could get into Castle Barnes.

Tourmaline opened her eyes and considered the mark on the back of the card - a duck sitting on a pond. The [Detective] shed hired in Minnova to keep an eye on her friends had been worth every penny. Through their reports shed been able to capture a small taste of that life she once had. Shed laughed herself sick at the Ass-Blaster and promptly had a cask delivered to the castle. The head [Butler] had thrown a fit, but grandfather found it hilarious. Shed cried in fear when Balin left for the dungeon, then cried with relief when he came back a hero. Shed jumped for joy when shed heard about Bran winning the contest to become Minnovas top chef, and actually cheered when shed learned of his engagement to Opal Sifsdotter. Then came rapid-fire news about the Thirsty Goat re-joining the guild of brewers, winning the Octamillenial Brewing Contest, and releasing two new brews to great acclaim.

Barista Brew and Liquid Gold, they were called. And a few pubs here in Kinshasa had already started to carry them, at great expense.

Every new letter came filled with emotions; joy, sadness, relief, and anger. Somewhere out there beyond the White Wall, life went on, and even if she couldnt take part she could at least live vicariously through her letters. This time though, she crumpled the paper in her hand and dreaded what was to come - what her friends were walking into.

Over the past year Kinshasa had swelled with tourists, refugees from monster attacks, and minor nobles and adventurers eager to prove themselves at the Octamillenial. The city was a capped volcano, and there were many factions eager to see it blow.

There was the King, at odds with his Greybeards and according to grandfather, ready to flip the board and start over.

There were the young and iterant nobles, eager for their place in the lamplight and caring for nobody but themselves.

There was that rabble-rouser Harmsson and his council of merchants and concerned citizens, preaching about a better way.

Finally there were the usual unsavory elements, all salivating at the influx of the wealthy and vulnerable.

That didnt even touch on the guilds, the chaos surrounding the various competitions, or the mounting pressure from the racial [Ambassadors].

Tourmaline looked at the wall, and through it to where she knew a wagon train had to be crawling slowly towards Kinshasa. Her voice was deep and husky, as she spoke a prayer. Oh Annie. Pete. Balin. All of you, stay safe. May Aaron bless your path and the luck of Barck be with you.

She could only hope they understood the seriousness of the situation, and were prepared for what was to come.