“Does it hurt here? No? Okay, what about here?” Frowning, Zoe jabbed her latest patient beneath the side of his ribs and was rewarded with a pained yelp. “Ah, I think it hurts there.”

  “Yeah, I’d say it does,” the baker admitted with a pained wince. “Think you can do anything about it?”

  What kind of question was that? Of course Zoe could heal something as minor as a few broken bones. She’d lived and fought through worse. She said as much while also activating her most potent healing skill, mending touch.

  Mending touch has reached level 14!

  Surgeon’s Eye has reached level 18!

  “I wanted to figure out what was wrong and where,” she admitted as the injury finished healing. “Brute force healing works just fine for something like this, but that wouldn’t teach me anything, would it?”

  The man’s eye twitched, and Zoe was pretty sure nothing was wrong with his eyelid. “So you’re telling me that you could have healed me right away, but instead you poked and prodded me to work on your other skills?”

  Zoe opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again while raising a finger. “Well it sounds bad when you put it that way, doesn’t it? But think about it. You got poked a bit and now you’re all fixed up. If I wasn’t here, you’d still have two broken ribs. So, like, it’s still a lot better than otherwise, and how do you think a benevolent, kindhearted healer like me would level up otherwise?”

  While the baker didn’t look enthused, he did look resigned. “Fair point. I guess that’s what they meant when they told me ‘Miss Olivia is quick, good, and cheap, so you’d better watch out.’ Ha. No kidding.”

  Zoe scowled as she escorted the burly man out to the front of her newly established small business. Look at me, I’m a small business owner! Mom would totally be proud. All it took was the right magic and a little determination—and also bribery of government officials, extortion of a coincidentally injured attorney, and spending a whole lot of money that technically wasn’t hers and that she never paid taxes on. But when you think about it, I did start with nothing in this world. So that means I’m a true self-made entrepreneur.

  But what is this guy talking about? Who is ‘they?’ Zoe decided to ask. The baker chuckled in response, a deep, heavy sound like a bag of stones shifting around. He only spoke one word. “Customers.” His wide smile remained as he reached into his trousers, only fading when his hands came up empty. “Shit. I meant to grab my coinpurse when I left but I must have forgotten it. Uh, how much is it going to be? I might as well go get it and get this taken care of now.”

  Zoe pursed her lips. She would be far more concerned if this place was a big city like Verdanport. But Blossomfell was a small, quiet place where half the people you met could give you all kinds of gossip on the other half.

  She doubted a longtime resident would try to stiff her, and if he did, a small town made it far easier to track down specific people and beat them up. That being said… “I don’t think that’s necessary. You’re the best baker here, right?”

  A mixture of confusion and relief washed across the man’s thick features. “Well ma’am, I guess you could say so, seeing as I’m the only one.”

  Perfect. “Then surely you would know what the mayor’s favorite kind of cake would be.” Confusion and relief gave way to confusion and hesitance, but Zoe pushed on. “Oh, and how soon can you have it ready? I’d like to have it by the afternoon if possible.”

  While he looked no less confused, the baker scratched his chin and shrugged. “The man’s a fiend for chiffon, no question about it. And yeah. I can definitely do that.” He paused. “But are you sure that’s what you want instead? My cakes aren’t nearly so expensive as what I owe you.”

  Now, Zoe grinned. That’s true, but I was being nice ‘cause I didn’t really care. But now? She couldn’t let go of her curiosity now. “That’s true… So what if you made one that was?”

  _____

  Zoe’s introduction to her new life had started off rough. Most of the bad things, like ritual cult murder and kidnapping, happened within the first week, though. The remainder of the past month had progressed far more smoothly. Zoe was almost ready to hit Rank E at last—but the final roadblock to her advancement was going to be a challenge. Zoe needed to figure out how to convince a paranoid old man to let her onto his property.

  When she’d first arrived in Blossomfell, Zoe had bribed the guards on duty to leave her out of any official records. This turned out to be either a smart move or entirely unneeded, depending on how you looked at it. While Zoe did end up staying for longer than two weeks—it had been three already—she hadn’t remained in Blossomfell as herself. Rather, she’d invented a new identity for herself with her lesser disguise skill.

  The skill allowed her to take on an alternative appearance, and it was far better than a regular illusion. As far as Zoe could tell, it was a form of true—if limited—shapeshifting. It wasn’t hard to copy a mixture of features from that noble lady Lily and her new friend Sasha. Zoe was careful to leave out any of her own features. There was no reason to lessen the effectiveness of her disguise by linking it back to herself.

  And that was how the humble township of Blossomfell found itself in the possession of a new healer. No one was going to complain about that, because even Zoe’s Rank F healing abilities became quite valuable, especially in a smaller community several hours to a a day removed from a larger city.

  And so, in the end, the most challenging, frustrating, and dangerous part of establishing herself as Olivia, that young healer in the woods who got rid of Old Kranon’s cough, was the paperwork. Really, what kind of magical fantasy world gives you a bunch of tax forms and legal waivers for setting yourself up as the local medicine witch? The answer was ‘this one.’

  Zoe didn’t want to bother with all that, so she started bribing people. There was also a point where some local politics she didn’t care about threatened to interfere. She resolved that specific problem when she did the opposition’s attorney a favor by healing his leg, which unfortunately happened to suffer a nasty break right before she showed up to a private meeting with him.

  She also bought a nice house at the edge of the town. The Lycan woman she’d met during her prison escape, Sasha, was staying there with her. Most of the necessary money had come from the storage ring the cultist chief Basil had given to her when she’d first arrived in this world and was pretending to be under his control.

  Given that his pocket change had been enough to outright purchase both the upscale manor itself and the plot of land it was on, Basil must be disgustingly rich. Zoe was more than happy to benefit from that.

  But getting involved in the local real estate market wasn’t the main reason Zoe decided to set up in Blossomfell. She was determined to reach both level fifty and Rank E—and earning a steady income as the town medicine girl wasn’t going to accomplish that on it’s own. Maybe it would if I kept at it for long enough—but patience is not one of my virtues. I need to keep getting stronger.

  So while ordinary healing was both honest work and a decent way to get a few extra levels in the relevant skills, Zoe needed something more. And not just more—she needed something more violent. Hence, she’d sought out anything approaching what you might call ‘adventuring work.’

  That led her to the old Rank D adventurer and local ‘guildsmaster.’

  Unfortunately, the old guildsmaster was a real cranky bastard. Zoe didn’t like him, and he didn’t like her, though she suspected the latter wasn’t personal and was only due to her status as another human being. Demon, technically, but I doubt correcting him about my species will improve our relations. The retired adventurer was the exact person Zoe would love to learn from, what with his potent lightning magic, personal library, dusty armory, and not least, his extensive experience as an adventurer in Norvask.

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  That’s why she sought him out in the first place. It wasn’t her fault the lazy grouch happened to be a bitter asshole.

  Yet talking to him the first time did provide her with some useful information. Blossomfell was near an abandoned mine. While the humans in the area had ignored the place for the last thirty or so years, other creatures hadn’t. The mine was said to be invested with a variety of monsters, which was the main thing that had stopped anyone from searching around for any valuable tools or materials left over.

  This should have been an unexpected stroke of good luck. It was the closest thing to a beginner dungeon Zoe could ask for—perfect for leveling. But bad luck followed the good, because who owned the mine and the property it was on but the misanthropic guildsmaster himself?

  First, Zoe tried asking nicely. Then, she tried bribery. When that didn’t work, she resorted to Plan C: trespassing.

  It started off well enough. But Zoe’s food fortune lasted up until she ran face first into the dangerous and unhinged home defense methods paranoid old men are liable to construct on rural properties. At least she learned what kind of magic the guildsmaster used. That third attempt also earned Zoe her first level in lightning resistance.

  It was evident by this point that she would need to embark on a radically different approach. It was this line of thinking that led her to the town hall with paperwork, a plan, and a really big cake all tucked securely in her personal inventory. Well, maybe not the plan. I don’t think you can store a plan, unless you wrote it down. Which I didn’t.

  An obnoxious snicker resonated within her own mind. Zoe scowled. Lilith had been quiet as of late, but her involuntary imaginary acquaintance was still always present. While Zoe knew that the disembodied passenger was a result of something that happened back when she’d stolen the fruits of a sacrificial cult ritual to become a demon, she didn’t understand any more than that. It was yet another thing to work on—the sooner she was free of the demonic entity, the better.

  The town hall of Blossomfell sat in a rare and happy middle ground between pretentious and underwhelming. It was just large and stately enough to induce an impression of authority and legitimacy but not so grand as to become self-indulgent. It was tasteful in design and appropriate for the size and nature of the town as a whole.

  Zoe made it up the steps and through the main entrance with no problem. This was to be expected, since anyone could do that during normal hours. What was both less typical and more dangerous for Zoe’s blossoming ego was how no one among the smattering of bored officials moved to stop her from making straight for the staircase to the restricted upper floor and the mayor’s private office.

  Guess that’s what happens when you meet with the one real politician in the entire area frequently enough.

  That being said, Zoe had both the manners and the self-preservation to wait outside the office after three polite knocks. While she had already cemented herself as one of the more influential players in Blossomfell, she was only Rank F.

  She was a strong one, yes, but not everyone in the area was as vulnerable in combat as a certain legal scholar. The guildsmaster had already bested her, there was the manager of the local alchemy and enchanting shop who Zoe suspected to be far stronger than she let on, and the mayor himself was a solid Rank D.

  Those were far from the only three—and Zoe’s operated under the doctrine that if you were going to commit serious criminal activity, you either needed to respect the people who could screw you over on it or you needed to be strong enough to crush all of them.

  Zoe knew which category she fell into.

  She didn’t have to wait long. It wasn’t a minute before the door parted open, revealing the stately face and gray beard of Mayor Stokes. He peered down at her, or rather loomed. Mayor Stokes was one of those men who was both largely built and overweight, but where the overweight part seemed to just melt back into his overall bigness. It made him feel solid, like a stone colossus that learned how to walk.

  His lips thinned as he continued to loom. “Oh. Olivia. It’s you.”

  Zoe scowled as he pull the door aside and she brushed past into his office. Looking over his half-cluttered desk, she set about estimating the best place to summon her spectacular cake. “You say that like you’re not happy to see me.”

  Shutting the door and circling around the desk to face her, the mayor took a seat. “I’m not.” Zoe arched her dark, immaculate eyebrow as she took the smaller guest seat across from him. “Don’t take that to mean I don’t appreciate you. I wouldn’t have let you in otherwise.” The middle-aged man stroked is combed beard, searching for words. It was a few seconds until he found them. “It’s like a visit to the dentist,” he mused, his rich, bassy voice grinding like wet gravel. “There’s a reason you go through with it, and you’ll be better off in the end. Yet the process is like…” he gestured at Zoe. “Pulling teeth.”

  Zoe’s eye couldn’t decide whether it was suppose to twitch in irritation or roll in exasperation. She settled on scrunching her nose. “What a novel way to build professional relationships. I don’t remember reading that in How to Win Friends and Influence People…” A more important thought struck her then. “Wait, you guys have dentists here?”

  The mayor was now staring in undisguised fascination. He had the same kind of look as a milquetoast Londoner experiencing culture shock in the face of a peculiar foreign custom. He stroked his beard again—anthropologically—and leaned back. “I want to ask what you mean by any of that, but I know I’ll be better off if I don’t. Why are you here?”

  Rather than answer, Zoe cleared off a large space on the desk. Several items and a stack of papers toppled off the edge, but that wasn’t her problem. The mayor stood up to do something, but it was far too late for that. Zoe summoned the cake.

  Five tiers, each with four layers of moist carrot and a generous spread of that icing they always used for carrot cake. Colorful icing blossoms the size of brusssel sprouts and each layer crowned with a ring of turkish delights. But the prime treat, the central decoration, was a seven inch tall figure of Zoe made of colored sugar. She held a thin chocolate banner reading ‘#1 Least Corrupt Politician.’

  The figurine wasn’t her idea, but when the baker suggested it, Zoe could hardly say no. The banner though, that was all her.

  Neither of them spoke for several moments. “I came here to talk about signing off on those liability waivers. I figured you could help, you know—expedite the process?” Zoe’s ultimate goal here was to delve into the old guildsmaster’s abandoned mine. She learned during her last adventure on his property that the reason he refused to let her down there was both reasonable and depressingly mundane: he was worried about liability for any accidents.

  Even magic-land wasn’t safe from tort law—but it wasn’t safe from bribery, either.

  The problem with taking on the liability herself—in writing—was that Zoe didn’t exactly have a legal identity. But that hadn’t stopped her when she wanted to open an unlicensed medical practice, and that wouldn’t stop her here. All it took was the right connections.

  Mayor stokes continued to stare at the gargantuan cake, which now threatened to ooze over one side of his desk. Zoe should have put it a little closer to the middle. “I see.” The massive man sighed. “There are restrictions on the value of gifts I can receive as a civil servant, you know.”

  Zoe glanced at the figurine in her likeness on the top layer and the ‘#1 Least Corrupt Politician’ banner at the top. “Well I didn’t actually pay anything for it, so it should be fine, right? It does look like someone might have stuck a bunch of silver coins into that side of it, though, but that would be ridiculous.”

  The mayor grunted. “Yes, that would be ridiculous indeed. I’ll see what I can do.” Zoe turned to leave. “Wait!” Zoe kept walking. “What am I supposed to do about this stupid cake? I can’t just have this thing on my desk, you know.”

  “Eat it?” Zoe shrugged. “As far as I know, you can’t have your cake and eat it too.”

  _____

  Mayor Stokes frowned at the door Olivia left through—the only door in the office. He hadn’t exaggerated when he compared interacting with her to dental work. He was glad to have her though, that was equally true—even without the additional benefits to working with her, the town could only benefit from a healer at her level.

  Olivia was good for the town, she was good for him, and she hadn’t caused too much trouble. Yet. The incident with Jakob’s attorney was fairly tame to begin with, and she’d covered for herself without even needing his help. But while Stokes understood he was a small fish outside Blossomfell, he felt confident in saying he was experienced enough to remain wary. Something’s not right about that girl.

  And he didn’t mean her assertiveness in circumventing the law, her willingness to get physical, or even her obvious fake identity. Well, maybe a little of that last one. But there was something else about the girl, something that kept his eyes focused and made his muscles get ready to tense. Something that arose as the summation of all the most innocuous and minor details, and that he struggled to concretely identify.

  But Mayor Stokes was certain that the so-called ‘Olivia’ was not the ordinary crime lieutenant lying low for a while that she appeared to be.

  Tearing his gaze from the door, the mayor scowled at the cake. He wasn’t joking when he asked what he was meant to do with it. The thing wasn’t huge—it was obscene, and she’d deposited it straight onto the desk without so much as a sheet of wax paper beneath it. A power play if I’ve ever seen one. Wrinkling his nose, he plucked a piece of silver out and studied it. Carrot cake. My favorite. Somehow, the fact that she’d taken the effort to determine that made it all the more upsetting.

  And that means now I have to meet with a damned Inquisitor with this… thing. Stokes scowled. Dealing with Olivia was a real toothache, and handling an Inquisitor coming to his town was already a waking nightmare. Dealing with both at once wasn’t something the man would wish on his worst enemies. Okay, maybe one.

  But difficulty aside—an interesting thought came to the mayor as he set about throwing the stupid cake into his own storage ring chunk-by-chunk. I can’t help but wonder if the two of them showing up might be related.