Chương 548: Chapter Five Hundred and Thirty-Three - The Scenic Route

I think Caprica really wanted to impress Bastion. More so than usual. She ended up at the front of the group, acting as our guide through a city she'd admitted to never setting foot in, but she had read about it. Amaryllis and Awen both had about the same level of knowledge - they had studied the city in their schooling, and Awen had also heard stories from her uncle - but neither of them had ever actually been to Deepmarsh. We were kinda flying blind.

"This way," Caprica said as she guided us towards an entrance atop the monolithic building we'd docked at. The entrance was a stone archway, the doors held open with little wooden blocks. As we crossed into the building, air faintly blew across my ears, and I raised my hand up, looking for the source of the breeze.

"Huh? Is there a spell here?" I asked. Amaryllis paused, then looked up and squinted.

"Oh. There is. Look at the keystone of the arch, there's a spell woven into it." I couldn't quite see what she meant, though there were some markings on the stone she gestured to.

"What do they do?" I asked.

"Looks like... a drying spell, and one to pull air in. It's not nearly strong enough to dry all the air, or pull much in," Amaryllis said.

"It's likely to counteract the humidity a little," Caprica said. That... was probably a good idea. I had my Cleaning magic running as a thin aura around me, but even then I could feel the muggy heat of the day clinging to me. The air was warm, and wet, and kind of thick? The slight breeze helped a little, and I supposed that was the whole point.

"I guess even grenoil can find it too humid," I said.

"It's likely also to prevent moisture from causing issues," Awen said.

"Things rust faster in wet places, and there's always mould that can grow if you're not careful. At least, that's what I've heard? It's kind of dry in Mattergrove." Mattergrove was sitting right next to a desert, so that was probably a bit of an understatement.

"Let's get a move on?" Calamity asked.

"This place ain't any good for my fur."

"Indeed. My tails will require additional grooming once we've left this place," Desiree agreed. She patted one of her tails, which did look a little puffier than usual already.

"Yes, let's!" Caprica said. She smiled, glanced at Bastion, who was near the front of the group and standing very still, then she spun on a heel and started ahead.

"Say, Broccoli," Amaryllis said as she walked next to me. The inside of the building was a lot of wide corridors with low ceilings so far, with lots of equipment and supplies left in crates along the walls. We had entered directly into the core of the building, and there were no windows or skylights. It would've been pitch-black, except that there yellow-burning lanterns spaced every few paces.

"Yeah?" I asked. Amaryllis squinted ahead at Caprica, then Bastion.

"I'd like to think that I'm rather observant of others, but I'd appreciate your opinion."

"Always," I said.

"Caprica has the worst crush on Bastion this side of Dirt, yes?"

"Oh yeah," I said with a nod.

"She has it bad. It's pretty obvious."

"And Bastion is utterly clueless about it, yes?" Amaryllis asked.

"I think you have a better read on the Paladin than I do." I hummed and rubbed at my chin. Was he?

"I think so, but it might be that he's choosing to be, ah, professional about it?"

"That would make a fair bit of sense. He'd be putting his career in jeopardy if he... entertained any of the ideas Caprica may have."

"It's also a little wrong, she's technically kind of his boss," I said.

"Oh yes, it would be quite scandalous in the sylph courts. But Caprica isn't first princess, she may perhaps be able to marry whomever she pleases as long as the choice isn't too... controversial, and in that respect a former Paladin would be a respectable choice," Amaryllis said.

"We should be playing chaperon. To keep poor Bastion from being harmed." I blinked.

"Not to keep Caprica safe?" I asked.

"I know what I said." I held off on giggling, even if I wanted to. There was no point in getting the others' attention. They might ask what had made me laugh, and then I'd have to explain things, or make something up, and I was no good at that. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The corridor we were in opened up into a large, multilevel room. Balconies ran along the edges, circling an open area that dropped half-a-dozen floors below us.

Wide metal tubes descended from the vaulted ceiling, each one bolted to support columns. I leaned over the edge of the railing, following the tubes down with my eyes -- each one ended in a mirror, angled to fling bright light across a garden-park that took up most of the floor at the bottom of the room. So, they were basically piping in sunlight, huh? I guess the inside of the tubes were all... mirrorized. Was that the word? Every balcony was teeming with grenoil, and many other races as well.

Then again, this was right under the docks, so it made sense to me that this would be the meeting ground of travelers. There were inns on almost every level, and I noticed a few taverns below with magical lights hovering around their signs to grab people's attention.

"Ah, a map," Caprica said before moving to a large board fastened to one of the walls. The map showed every building in the city marked on it, and next to them, in a teeny-tiny font, a list of what could be found there. There were also lines connecting the buildings, showing how to get from one to the other.

"Looks like the university quarter is just three buildings away. It shouldn't be too hard to get there from here." As it turned out, that was a little bit wrong. Sure, three buildings wasn't far, as the crow flies, but it was also three gaps away, and those gaps were covered by bridges, and not all bridges were on the same level.

We found one to the building across, but then had to go down three floors for the next one, and then that building was residential, and the next bridge over was in a private area, so we had to climb back up, cross another bridge, then a second, then go down another two floors, then across again. All in all, we might have only been half a kilometre from the university quarter, but it took a solid hour of twists and turns and getting a smidge lost before we found our way over.

"Okay," Caprica said. She was keeping it together, which was nice.

"Now... Mister Celiga is a historian. All we need to do is find the history department and we'll know where he is. Easy as sugar pie." It was not as easy as pie, sugar or otherwise. We stepped into the building, crossing a bridge that had a sign hanging by its middle with 'University Pad' written on it in a very formal-looking script. The inside smelled like old paper and ink, and there were a lot of younger grenoil loitering around the lobby we stepped into.

There were bulletin boards covered in flyers stuck to the walls and students milled around, wearing various robes cut in different colours of cloth and in different styles, most carrying handfuls of books and scrolls. I noticed a few of them looked baggy-eyed, even for grenoil.

"Okay," I said, stepping up next to Caprica and peering down one of the wide hallways leading off the lobby.

"Anyone see a map?"

"I do," Awen said. She pointed to a plaque near the reception desk. It was behind a wall of glass and surrounded by small drawers labeled with letters.

"I think that's the directory." Caprica strode over first, with all the authority of someone who had definitely not just gotten us mildly lost for an hour. She stared at the directory for a moment, then frowned.

"This is... alphabetical by subject. But not in the Common tongue."

"It's in Grenish," Amaryllis said as she leaned in.

"I can read it, give me a moment." Desiree hummed.

"Would this not be a good moment to ask for help from a local? Perhaps a charming young student? One with a loose tongue and helpful manners?" Amaryllis didn't look up.

"And risk being sent three floors up and four buildings over because someone thinks it's funny? Pass." It took Amaryllis a moment, but she had the directory open and plucked out a map of the entire building, with a route from the lobby to the history department marked out. I wasn't sure if we were allowed to just take it, but we... kind of just did. The path led us down two more winding corridors, past a cafeteria that smelled surprisingly good, then up a narrow spiral staircase.

At the top, it deposited us at a door made of thick, dark wood with HISTORICAL RESEARCH AND STUDIES carved neatly across the top. This was it, I figured!