The tavern Liz dragged me into was surprisingly nice. Decent-sized glass windows gave a view of carts and wagons heading back and forth between the docks and the rest of the city. Sorry, town, although I still don’t know what to make of that weird bit of tax trickery. The furniture was a bit more finely made than the rough benches I would have expected, with booths and chairs available, as well as a finely appointed bar. Food was available, from simple finger foods to roast chickens and entrees. The bartender wore a neat apron over trousers held up with braces, a shirt with the sleeves held back with arm garters, and a silk cravat. With his mustache he looked like he’d fit in better at an Old-West music hall dealing Faro than in this world of magic and swords.

The clientele seemed to primarily be made up of ships captains, and merchants negotiating with them. Even now, in the early afternoon, several of the tables were filled with men discussing business deals and new locations in which to send ships for trade. The merchants wore a mix of clothing, with a tendency towards long jackets resembling the justacorps of the early 18th century. The captains wore a much wider array of clothing. Not the roughly made clothing of a regular sailor, but everything from fine jackets of numerous various cuts, to a few in shirtsleeves, with knives and swords hung off belts or stuffed in sashes.

When I entered with Elizabeth, the bartender looked up, and waved us over towards a booth as he sedately made his way towards us. His reaction towards Elizabeth, with her hood pulled far enough forward as to obscure her face, was bemused but tolerant, as if he was used to this behavior.

“What can I get for you two?” He asked?

“Wine, for the both of us,” Elizabeth replied, “Oh, and can you grab us a dozen oysters too?”

The bartender nodded, before heading back to the bar to get our drinks. From what I could see from under her hood, Liz seemed rather pleased with herself.

“This place gets fresh oysters delivered every day. It really is one of the best places near the harbor,” she explained.

“Is coming down to the harbor often enough to learn that really something someone in your position should be doing?”

“I already get that kind of talk from auntie, I’d have thought you’d be a bit more understanding,” she pouted. As in honest to God puffed out cheeks. It would have been adorable, but for one fact; behind that pouting face was the heart and mind of a noblewoman. That is to say, a politician. Mary had warned me to be wary of her, so I can only assume the worse.

“So, what did you want to talk about anyways?”

“You mean I can’t just enjoy a drink with my aunt’s new apprentice?” she stated, sounding so innocent that it was clear she was after something.

“So you just happened to be around the harbor on the same day I came into town, running into me right by an upscale tavern you happen to be familiar with? And what was that nonsense with the gate guards saying I was to be taken to the manor on your orders? You’re clearly after something.” I figure it’s best to be blunt and get straight to the point with government types.

“So you finally got your hat? It’s so fetching! It absolutely suits you!” she exclaimed, heavy-handily and abruptly changing the topic. Clearly she wasn’t going to answer my questions, although I would have expected her not to be so obvious about it. She’s even blushing. She must be embarrassed about making so obvious of a slip-up.

As anyone knows, power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. While corruption can be found in practically every form of government, most of those in the halls of power have ways of talking around it, carefully using euphemism and language to avoid directly addressing it. As a result it’s practically a matter of course that those in power will do anything to avoid using precise language to communicate. Just watch a political debate. It doesn’t matter what side they’re on, they’ll talk in circles to avoid giving any sort of clear answer.

And it’s almost always for the purpose of increasing their stranglehold on the populace. First it’s them wanting to tax something like grain alcohol. Most people will go along with it because it seems somewhat reasonable, and if people object they’ll even send an army out to quell it. Then they slowly increase taxes on sales and other transactions. People will grumble, but they’ll accept it. But that wont be enough. They’ll go after your income directly. They’ll say something like “oh, it’s just a temporary measure to pay for the war.” But then they’ll never actually get rid of the tax. Next thing they know the system will be so convoluted and corrupt that you’ll be required to pay someone in order to navigate it, keeping all sorts of cronies and bureaucrats employed.

That being said, actually going specifically after an individual is a bit much for someone this high up in the social hierarchy. They usually pay cronies to do that. Two thousand years ago, tax collectors were viewed as the bottom rung of society. When showing how magnanimous Jesus was in the Christian Bible, they even demonstrated how humble he was preaching and ministering to those typically viewed as pariahs; prostitutes and tax collectors, with the first being the more reputable of the two professions.

And in modern society tax collectors have gotten even worse. Now they come in all sorts of different types, from the ones who steal money directly from your paycheck, to the ones who will shoot your dog if you don’t pay a $200 tax stamp in order to fully exercise rights that on paper are protected by a higher power. But Elizabeth isn’t some lowly member of the anti-fun police, she’s the daughter of a lord. So why would she be going after me in person?

*poke*

The feeling of a finger pressing into my cheek derailed my train of thought. Looking across the table in the booth, I could see Liz smiling slightly, her outstretched finger resolutely placed on my cheek. In front of our booth stood the bartender, slack-jawed while holding a tray with our drinks and a dozen freshly-shucked oysters on ice.

“I called your name several times and you didn’t answer, so I thought I’d try another way to try and get your attention. For someone who cuts such an impressive figure, you sure can be air-headed at times. It’s rather endearing, I think.” She explained, her earlier smile taking on a smug air. The bartender seemed deeply unsettled by the whole display, and his demeanor seemed to suggest he wished he was anywhere but in front of the two of us. A few patrons gave Liz encouraging thumbs-up, but others seemed just as concerned as the bartender. One even got up and left the bar all together.

“I-I’ll just leave you two alone,” the bartender stammered out before setting the tray down and hurriedly walking back to his place behind the bar.

The change in demeanor must mean that the bar has figured out Elizabeth’s identity. I can imagine that figuring out the daughter of the lord was in disguise at the same tavern as you, and sharing a booth with a lowly apprentice witch to boot, would be a bit of a shock. At least she seems to be well-liked by the locals, considering the amount of patrons giving her encouraging looks, but letting her identity slip like that is incredibly fool-hardy.

Elizabeth, however, seems completely oblivious to the stir she has caused. Instead, she’s looking at the plate of oysters with a look of horrified realization spreading over her face. She begins to reach for one, then pulls her hand away as if burnt.

She mutters a few words to herself, to quietly for me to completely make out, though I hear the words “unattractive” and “date” used. Confused, I look at them more closely. I’m not completely an expert on seafood, but these oysters don’t seem like they’re out of date, and they’re as attractive as a blob of shellfish meat ever will be. Maybe she knows more than I do? Hesitantly, I reach out towards them with my mana. They seem as fresh as they’ll ever be. I grab an oyster and a slice of lemon, squeezing a bit of lemon juice on top before slurping it down. The rich, slightly briny taste hits my tongue.

“They taste just as good as any other oysters I’ve had, and sure don’t seem out of date. Honestly I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” I say.

Rather than looking reassured, Liz blanches.

“Y-you heard what I said?”

“You seemed a bit concerned about them. Acting so picky when you went out of your way to order these oysters seems a bit childish.”

“I was just…never mind.” She says, visibly working at regaining her composure. “They do look delicious.” However, she made no move to try one. She just sat there awkwardly, slightly blushing while looking between the oysters and me.

I normally don’t trust people involved in politics, but if she loses her composure this easily that really can’t bode well for her future in that field. She must be aware of this. In fact, maybe that’s why she ran away to Mary’s house in the past? Being forced into noble society here can’t be that pleasant, considering Mary herself renounced her rights to any titles and holed up in her house in the woods. But then why is this girl trying to talk with me specifically, and what exactly is she after if it isn’t based in politics? Her behavior before, and even Mary’s warning, what could it mean? If I put two and two together…

The door to the tavern door slammed open, with the patron who had fled before leading in 3 others. He pointed straight at me and said to the others,

“There she is, the otherworlder witch apprentice. The one who knows guild secrets.”

All this pointing and shouting. Doesn’t he know it’s rude to make such a scene in a restaurant?