“We can understand that you might not be aware, but you need to be careful.” The female guard warned, “humans can’t easily tell the difference, but there are tools they can use. Based on your hair and eye color, you could be a quarter-elf. I have wondered before if Nathaniel had an elvish ancestor, but he is human.”

Saul had to bite back several responses, and then a few more. These people didn’t know him. This was unlikely to be some plot, unless Uncle Nathaniel had seriously offended someone in the city. Was there some legitimate reason for the misunderstanding? That depended on what made them think he wasn’t human.

“Could you…check to see if I’m part elf?” he finally asked.

The guards exchanged a glance.

“Sure,” the woman said, then raised a hand palm-up in front of his face. “I want you to look at my shoulder and try not to blink.” He nodded, so she continued, “Light”

A very bright light appeared above her hand, nearly blinding him. Eyes watering, he kept them focused on the guard’s shoulder. This was a cantrip he had failed to learn before, but was planning to try again. The light disappeared and he blinked several times to clear his vision.

“Not a quarter-elf, then,” the man observed.

“I do have a tattoo partially in the elven style,” Saul said, pulling up his right sleeve, still blinking.

“Huh,” Andre muttered, examining it, “haven’t seen that before.”

“I helped design it.”

“Unless the tattoo had some fundamental effect on you, that isn’t it.” The woman added, “and if it did, you should be careful about giving it to other people.”

“Can you tell me what exactly makes you think I’m not human?” Saul asked, getting frustrated.

“You don’t make us even slightly nauseous, even standing this close to you,” she said, the man nodding. “Humans do. Merchants, ‘nobles,’ adults, even babies, a little bit. That bodyguard of yours is the worst I think I’ve ever felt. I’ve been doing this fifteen years, and if he’d gotten much closer I might have thrown up.”

“I see?” Saul had no idea how to break that down. “Is this time sensitive or something? I really just want to continue with my trip right now.”

“We would strongly advise against returning across the border as you are.” She explained, “it has been a long time since they caught a quarter-elf noble, but we have records. I doubt your treatment would be any better.”

“Our trip is into elven lands,” Saul clarified, “actually, is there a proper name I should refer to the region by? All the maps and sources I could find just call it ‘Elven Territory.’”

“Apparently, giving everything proper names is a human instinct.” She sighed. “One that most of us here share, hence the name of the city. If you are going to be traveling through the territory, be ready for a lot of The Village, The Village To The North, and The Southeast Forest. We can make a note of you to the Councillor, he’ll make sure that you have an opportunity to peacefully separate from your companions when you return, if that’s what you want.”

“Thank you for your concern, that’s fine with me.” Saul agreed, not seeing any harm in it.

Andre walked with Saul back to the others while the female guard went into the guard tower.

“Sorry about that folks.” Andre said, “thought we felt something off, but it was just a tattoo. Never seen the like. There are a couple tattooists here that might be interested to see it, if you’re looking to make a local connection.”

“Excellent!” Nathan replied, “Everyone, back on carriage! We need to get it squared away so that you can hit the streets.”

They returned to the carriage, Nathan sending the three up to the roof again, but joining Dinah on the driver’s bench to give her directions. As they rolled through the human trading district, Saul redoubled his scrutiny of the people. He had now seen the guards who must have been half- or three-quarter-elves, and was trying to spot the differences on these people who must be mostly quarter-elves. Eyes were apparently a way to tell, but he wasn’t sure what exactly to look for even if he could get someone to hold still while he shined a light on them. His chat with the guards hadn’t seemed like the right time to ask.

The only conclusion Saul had reached by the time they moved into what seemed to be a different district was that part-elves never seemed to have black hair. Literally everyone he saw had shades of brown and blond. That wasn’t exactly a reliable means of differentiating them. His hair was brown, not especially light or dark, which they had said fit. His eyes were a light hazel, also usual for a quarter-elf apparently, while not very common for humans.

They reached one of the largest buildings in the city with a wide courtyard and were allowed in. The building only had one huge floor and was made entirely of stone, but wasn’t particularly secure. Saul could see glass windows regularly spaced along the outside. On the roof of the building, guards and people training were visible. An intrusive breeze brushed past him and he shivered.

“I think all of the people here are ensouled and at least partially awakened,” Toby said, eyes closed and face turned into the wind.

“They don’t have the same system of Noble Duty that we do,” Saul guessed, “they could train all of their combatants in one place.”

“You three stay put for a minute!” Uncle Nathan yelled up at them, then followed someone into the building.

From where they stood or sat on top of the carriage, they now had a near perfect angle to watch the thirty-odd people using the training space on top of the building. It was a bit like watching matches in the Bellatheon, but sitting at the same level as the field itself. As he observed, Saul noticed an unusual pattern.

“I think they all fight like Uncle Nathan?” he commented, “at least to a degree.”

“Yeah,” Toby agreed, “I was kind of looking forward to seeing some of that variety you were talking about with elves, but they’re all pretty similar.”

“I think the vast majority have two icons in common, death and light. The third icon varies, but most took one of the five that give Fighter. There might be some Barbarians and Fools, and I think that woman’s a Guardian, but that’s about it.”

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“What affinity do quarter-elves have? That might explain some of it.”

“I don’t know,” Saul said, “the exact ancestral traits of other races don’t seem to be widely shared. We probably shouldn’t tell any elves about ours, thinking about it.”

“Then how’d you know what affinity elves have?”

“I was able to find records about ancestral affinities, but I think that’s just because it’s obvious. It isn’t hard to figure out that humans have a death affinity when we’re the most consistent source of traded death icons by a mile.”

“Oh, I think I knew that,” Toby replied, tilting his head slightly, “I remember that they’re supposed to be really rare, but death monsters and icons show up frequently for us.”

“Same for elemental icons with dwarves, life icons with halflings, and knowledge icons with gnomes. Those are the ones that are close enough and large enough to trade with in a meaningful capacity. There are of course smaller communities and nations too far away to be considered. Oh, and there are historical records of goblins living in parts of what is now Oriawell, but they were killed or driven off. Sources describe them as cowardly, but it isn’t clear if that actually means a fear affinity or—”

“That’s great, and I’d love to hear it later,” Toby interjected, “but Nathaniel’s coming back and you never answered my question about the elves.”

“Right, the elves don’t trade in a particular icon. We know some about their ancestral traits from records of interrogations during the war a few centuries ago. They have a universal affinity, some kind of sleep reduction, night vision, and they live longer. The details weren’t extensive.”

“The information came from torture? If I was being tortured, I’d say that humans kill anything we touch long enough and rise as zombies when killed or something.”

“Let’s go see the city, boys!” Uncle Nathan called up to them.

Toby rolled off the roof, while Saul and Bart exited the usual way.

“So, we have dinner plans here at the magistrate later tonight,” Nathan said, rubbing his hands together, “but until then, we’ve got time. I’ll be leaving early tomorrow, so I want to take you a few places today. Bart, you’ll be training with the militia here for today, I’ll take care of looking after my nephew.”

“Could I join him?” Toby asked.

“No, you aren’t allowed. Don’t ask once I’m gone either; it wouldn’t be taken kindly.” Nathan warned, putting an arm around Toby’s shoulder and leading him away, “now, I do apologize, but I chose our schedule with more of an eye for Saul’s interests. Once you have a sense for the city, you’re welcome to wander off and seek your own entertainment.”

Saul followed, leaving Bart to be collected by a sweaty man in light clothes. Nathan first led the pair past several streets before turning down a narrow lane with large buildings that didn’t seem to be stores or homes. None of the buildings were wooden, and nearly all of them had chimneys. Saul assumed these were smithies. They stopped at one of the smaller buildings and Nathan knocked on the wooden door. Looking back down the lane, Saul noted that this was one of only two buildings with wooden doors.

The door opened to reveal a small boy with very pointy ears. He wrinkled his nose at them and closed the door in their faces. A cry of “Dad! Ethan’s here!” was audible through it.

“Who? Oh, Nathan, well, let him in!” a muffled male voice responded.

“No, he feels gross!”

“Does he have someone with him?”

There was no response. After another minute, the door was opened again by an older man slightly shorter than Saul with only slightly pointy ears and sandy blond hair.

“Hello Nathan!” he exclaimed, shaking Nathan’s hand, “why’d you come to the workshop entrance?” Then he swallowed oddly and looked at Toby. “Ah, I see. Come on in you three!”

“I’m sorry to impose,” Nathan said, stepping in, “Toby has a wind icon like you. I was hoping he wouldn’t bother you as much.”

“Not a problem, not a problem. Nice to meet you Toby, and you…?”

“Saul Ficial,” Saul replied, looking around the workshop filled with glass pots. “Nice to meet you.”

“This is Pierre,” Nathan introduced, “he’s a half-elf Artisan glassblower. Do you have a few minutes to chat, Pierre? I think my nephew here would be interested to hear about your process and abilities, if you’re willing.”

“He’s an Artisan-artisan?” Saul clarified. “I would love to hear about what icons you have and what you can do! Human abilities are always so dull and combat focused.” He noticed Uncle Nathan try to discreetly hand something to Pierre.

“Nathan, Nathan, you don’t have to bribe me to talk to your nephew!” Pierre chuckled, pushing the hand away, “I would be happy to talk to you about my glassblowing process, young man. I have the light, earth, and wind icons…”

It turned out that the reason that Pierre’s workshop was smaller than most of the adjacent ones and lacked a chimney was because he could facilitate the entire glassblowing process himself. He didn’t need space to store sand and other materials, having an ability to create them himself. Instead of a furnace, he had light icon abilities to precisely heat things. The back door was wood as a way of showing off that he had the ability to control the temperature in his workshop well enough to prevent it from catching fire. He could output a finished glass work in ten minutes flat, faster if he worked in batches.

“My real claim to fame is these!” Pierre opined, holding up a familiar night light. “Once lit, they glow for just over an hour even in this environment, and they can be powered with virtually no effort.”

“I used one of those as a night light when I was a kid,” Saul told him, “I always thought they were part of the building. They worked really well for years reading books at night.”

“I did make a large order of them for Nathan back in…” Pierre tapped a finger on the small glass orb for a moment, “a while back. I’m glad they’ve been put to good use!”

“Could I buy a few for my carriage tomorrow if I gave you the dimensions of the lantern hooks?”

“Well, the actual Artisanal work has to be a sphere to perform up to my standard, but I can add a regular glass loop to them for a nominal fee. There would also be an additional charge to make them a priority order.”

Uncle Nathan held out his hand again, which Saul could see held several mist light rings. Pierre quickly took them.

“That will suffice for the priority charge,” he said, “the lights themselves are five halves each, plus another fifty quarters. If you buy ten, I’ll waive the fee and it’ll be five rings even.”

Toby whistled under his breath, but Saul wasn’t put off.

“That seems more than fair for a simple artifact,” Saul agreed, discreetly reaching into his satchel and fishing around, sliding five rings onto his wrist.

“Artisanal work,” Pierre corrected, “I’m not an artificer.” They looked at each other for a moment. “Do you not know any Artisans?”

Saul then learned about a fairly significant gap in his knowledge. Artifice wasn’t his field, but Artisanal works were related to a nearly ubiquitous aspect of Artisan capstone abilities, which definitely fell under thaumaturgy. There were virtually no human Artisans, so the lack of records was understandable, but he was slightly embarrassed he hadn’t known.

Essentially, Pierre explained, artifice was a sophisticated type of technique requiring specific abilities and training that allowed an ability with all its strengths and nuances to be incorporated into an item. A person with the right icon, or a complete soul, could then power it to use the ability with some effort. An Artisanal work was created without any of that, simply requiring the Artisan to use their capstone on an item that they created to give it some comparatively simple property when powered by anyone.

Saul paid him, thanked him, and made an appointment for the next day to bring him the measurements he needed. When the trio left the workshop, Nathan led them broadly back in the direction of the magistrate.