Rykard assumed that, if there was a hint in the library, some enthusiast of the craft over the past hundreds of years would have already scanned through it all. ‘Better take a different approach,’ he thought.

  After leaving the craftsman behind, he and Miyo got to the inn to announce their intent to stay a little longer. The bar of gold had bought them more than one night and the owner immediately had them guided back into the most luxurious suite the building had to offer. Servants would be ready for them 24/7, a fact Rykard immediately took advantage of.

  “Get me maps of the city from the time of the first Gorger Lady and a modern one as well,” he ordered. As with all good servants, no questions were asked. Surprising was only how quickly he got what he wanted.

  Three maps, all of them in prime condition, were soon spread out on the main table of the room. “What do you hope to find?” Miyo asked.

  “Wherever these fans are hidden, it wouldn’t be just a random house or a segment of the underground that everyone could walk through,” Rykard expined, comparing the streets and the canal network on the two maps. “We’re looking for a building that stood at the time, could be expected to stand for a long time, and also has nooks and crannies to hide something for a long time.”

  Rykard wove a quick spell, then swiped a finger over the map. A red line appeared, causing the servant nearby to subtly shift.

  “Just a spell, the map isn’t altered,” the king assured, causing the servant to rex. Even if they had been given to him readily, him scribbling on ancient cartography would be upsetting to the owners. After just ten minutes, Rykard said. “Huh, I expected this to be harder.”

  “You know where they are already?” Miyo asked. She wasn’t in awe, she knew him better than that, but she was certainly impressed. “Did you use divination?”

  “You know how much of headache that kind of magic is,” Rykard answered. “Even I wouldn’t do that without a whole ritual. No, there’s just some really clear patterns. See, this pce, this pce, and this pce,” he pointed at three buildings that were both on the old and the modern map. “They’re connected to the old master’s workshop via underground tunnels. It’s quite a walk, but he could get in there without being spotted. Additionally, they have no underground complex while everything around does, which is just highly suspicious. Lastly, and this is quite important, they are pced right next to food producing facilities of the time. An ogress would get distracted by the smell of fresh meat. They’re also quite rge. Servant, what buildings are these?”

  The servant look at the magically marked location. “I believe this would be the Baradel’s House, sir,” he said and pointed at the northern building. “A home of fine courtesans, popur with other visitors of this establishment. It has been in business since the city was founded.”

  “Hiding a fan with the courtesans, cssy,” Rykard said.

  “This here, I believe, is the old mayor’s ruin,” the servant continued, pointing at a building all the way in the southern half of the Hexagon. “It was torched during a riot of his unhappy peers, but the walls still stand to this day.”

  “A sturdy construction. What about the st one?”

  The servant looked at the location, then at the old map, then at the new map. “I don’t know, sir,” he confessed. “I believe that is just living space for the commoners.”

  “Interesting. Thank you for your help.” The man took a rge step back, leaving Rykard to study the map some more. Two of his targets were here, in the northern half of the city. He could get to them within the day. The third was a full day of travel south of their current location. Obviously, no less than all three should go into his Miyo’s possession, so he would have to check all three out.

  Just where to go first?

  _____________________________________________

  The Baradel’s House was a colourful and old estate. Ornamentations covered the walls and windows that had not only a timeless factor, but served in their design as the foundation for most of what the city was today. The eastern knots were dominant with their hard-angled swirlings, and the roof was a gently swung thing. Each floor of the building was marked by its own sub-roof, more decoration than anything else, from which paper nterns hung. Red and gold were the dominant colours, closely followed by bck.

  The air smelled intensely of vanil and other sweet incense. Courtesans stood on the other side of a bridge that spanned over an artificial river. They were of decent beauty, enough to entice the average man and make those with power and influence wonder what gorgeous company they had hidden in the backrooms.

  Rykard found the kimonos on dispy delightful. Many of the courtesans used folding fans in the same manner that Miyo would, albeit at a lesser level of elegance. The instrument was used to hide the face or the bosom, inviting a sense of mystique, or to emphasize pondering and authoritative gestures.

  The king crossed the bridge and immediately four of the courtesans swarmed towards him. “The new lord of this nd comes to visit us?” one of them, the most beautiful one, asked in an even tone. “And he brings his queen? What an honour.”

  Miyo was indeed by his side and scanned the crowd of four dismissively. Fully dedicated to her role as supportive harem queen, she had no issue with these courtesans vying for his attention. Knowing that they were not up to his standards, she just ignored them.

  “Would you be so kind to show me to the dy of the house?” Rykard asked.

  “I’m already here.”

  Rykard lowered his gaze to an old crone that passed the distance. Her clothing was royally expensive and her hair well made, but she did not even attempt to hide her age behind make-up. In the profession of courtesan, there were typically three ways out. One was to be bought out by an interested man, which usually only happened for those beautiful and interesting enough that they could keep their purity intact or only minorly compromised. Second was to transition from service to administration, which was competitive. Third was to die. Whether that was because of a jealous lover’s hand or because beauty faded and failed to put food on the table was up to the individual case.

  Rarely did it happen that a courtesan cleared all her debt and returned to a normal life.

  Because it was such a harsh life, those courtesans that made it to the status of dy of the house were often as hardened as grizzled veterans. Rykard did not have much interest in courtesans or prostitutes by and rge. They were fine for entertainment for a night, but in the process of being avaible for that they became utterly uninteresting to him for a proper retionship. He was eating too well these days to settle for cheaper fish.

  High-css courtesans were a different matter. They typically sold ‘entertainment’ in the form of conversation and music and the hope for more, not actually giving more unless they found someone who could afford them. That was a potentially interesting challenge.

  That was not what he was there for today, however.

  “May we talk in private?” Rykard requested. “It will be worth your while.”

  The dy of the house sucked on a pipe, then gave him a stoic nod. She led them through sliding doors to a room in the back. It was still of the same architectural style, but the colours were muted and the incense burning of a simple scent promoted concentration over hazy lust.

  “My compliments to your intel gathering,” Miyo spoke.

  “Everything gets to courtesans first, especially my girls,” the dy of the house answered. “Rikard, I heard?”

  “Rykard,” he corrected, putting special emphasis on the ‘y’. “Ayama, I heard?”

  “Correct,” she answered and sat down behind her office desk. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “Simply put, I have reason to believe that one of the works of the old master is hidden in this building.”

  “The old master… you mean the legend of the folding fans meant for the daughter of Eri?” Ayama asked and he nodded. Her expression soured. “Then you want to ruffle through my buildings to find this treasure? Unless you’re giving it to me afterwards, I fail to see how that’s worth my while.”

  “Would you like your youth back?”

  The question caused an immediate pause. The crone’s face, weathered as it was by age, still bore a sembnce of once great beauty. Her hair was silky, and Rykard just instinctively knew that, had it not been for the weakness of her spine and skin, she would have made for a stunning female specimen.

  “You can do that?” the dy of the house spoke much softer now, bafflement returning her to the voice she likely had used for customers back in her active years. She was no longer demanding something, she was now being offered something more valuable than any money.

  “There are avenues open to a mage like me that you cannot even consider,” Rykard answered mysteriously.

  The greed was written all over her face. An understandable desire to have. Who would not be greedy when offered a return to the prime of their youth. “Why?” she croaked. “Why would you do this for me?”

  “Because I can. Because it works for me in this situation. Because I don’t feel like wasting the beauty you could be. Because I dream of a world filled with gorgeous women part of harems,” Rykard let his eyes wander around the establishment. “A pce like this will not exist in my ideal world, but a pce like this could be useful. No more selling your innocence to strangers for a quick buck. Large houses for matchmaking, where all involved are honest with their desires, that I fully endorse.” He focused her and saw her shudder.

  It was a little odd to see a woman older than his grandmother get aroused by his decrations, but Rykard could not help being this charming. He rolled his shoulder and gestured at Miyo.

  “This is the situation you will find yourself in. Young, gorgeous… not pregnant with my heir, however, that offer I do not make.” ‘Although we will see if you are worth my while,’ Rykard thought. He quite enjoyed capable women and this one had risen to the top of a particurly cutthroat business. The age difference meant nothing to him. He intended to live forever with his harem, what was 50 or 70 years? Before this journey was over, he would have at least one millennia-old dragoness in his bedroom, or some kind of equivalent.

  “I accept!” Ayama decred enthusiastically.

  “Splendid.” Rykard took a step to the right and grabbed a bottle that was pced on a nearby shelf. He took out the stopper and smelled the expensive perfume. Peaches and cherry flowers filled his nostrils. “This will do as the base.”

  “How long will you need?” the dy of the house asked.

  “Just a few minutes.”

  “A few minutes for an elixir of youth?” she asked. Had it not been for the gold bar he had created st night, she probably would not have believed him. “Just like that, you do what is only possible in legend?”

  Miyo sighed and shook her head. “You still do not understand, venerated elder,” the vixen spoke with cool precision. “This is beyond legend. You are in the presence of living myth.”

  ‘I’ll treat her for that compliment,’ Rykard thought and walked over to her. “Take a mouthful, swirl it around, then let it flow back in the bottle,” he instructed her.

  “It’s alcoholic,” Ayama warned, with a gnce at Miyo’s curved belly.

  Rykard dismissed her with a warning gre. As if he would let anything happen that could threaten his very own child. Knowing this, Miyo followed his instruction to the letter. Once she had returned the liquid to the bottle, her man wove a quick spell to purge any traces of alcohol and other unwanted elements from her system. Anything he did not catch, the mark on her womb would take care of.

  Grabbing the bottle by its artistically crafted neck, Rykard circled his wrist. HIs magic flowed into the bottle all the while, elevating the esoteric value of Miyo’s feminine youth. The essence of a woman in the prime of her fertile years, a mother to be, became infused in the liquid. That was the basis he required.

  Still swirling the bottle, Rykard handed the dy of the house the bottle of his Stable Mutagen. “Drink this,” he told her. “Think of your best years as you do. Do not rush.”

  There was lingering uncertainty. Had she been younger, she probably would have refused, but what did someone at her age have to lose? She grabbed it and followed his instructions. A singur tear formed in the corner of her eyes. Rykard grabbed her hand before she could wipe it away. Only once it reached her chin and fell on its own into the bottle, did he let go.

  The essence of youth and the essence of recmation, with that he had the necessary building blocks. From there, it was an expense of raw power and manipution of other ingredients. The esoteric value of the perfume itself transformed gradually into a whole different substance. What was clear turned first bck, then golden, then pink like peaches, cherry blossoms, and youthful flesh.

  “Why don’t you do this for everyone?” Ayama asked.

  “Do you know how alchemy works?” Rykard answered, his voice strained from the effort. He made it look easy and he could do what others did in decades in minutes, but that did not actually make it easy.

  “I… do not, no.”

  “To give you the most basic limitations, I cannot do it for those I do not think deserve it, I cannot do it for those that themselves don’t think deserve it, and I cannot do it when the time is not right.” The colour of the potion became a stable, light pink. “Luckily for you, the time is right.”

  Rykard pced the bottle on the table and pushed it towards her. Ayama looked at it for a few seconds, then reached for a bell. “Who did you call?” Miyo asked after she had rung it.

  “My most trusted aids. It would not serve you were I to transform and then no one would believe my order to let you investigate.” Four women soon entered the office. “Stand there and witness what is about to happen,” she ordered them before they could ask any more questions. She evidently could not wait any longer. She grabbed the potion, pulled out the stopper, and asked. “I just drink this?”

  “You just drink it,” Rykard confirmed.

  And so she did.