When Ezra exited the store, Milo was waiting for him at the end of the street. A shop with a massive display window bisected the road into two like a stone in a flowing river of pedestrians. Milo gazed through the glass at miniatures of airships. A simple representation that replaced the real thing. Ezra wondered where they kept the real things before they were sold to wealthy customers, yet that thought quickly subsided as Milo saw him approaching.

“So any leads?” Milo asked, sounding defeated.

Ezra suppressed a smile—he didn’t want to brag too much—and pointed to a tiered building with a sloped roof that reached for the sky with a sharp point. “I heard Marlaove used to visit a retirement home not far from the Shatterfold headquarters.” Upon a second look, he noticed a sizable gap or perhaps a bite missing from the roof of the guild hall. Must be the scars from the Sky-Razor.

Milo cocked his head to the side at the new information. “And you heard this from?”

“A fresh produce shop owner,” Ezra responded. “I think his name was Niall. Marlaove was a regular at his shop but stopped coming a few months ago.”

Milo playfully slapped Ezra on the back. “I knew you would come through. Your plans always work out somehow.”

“I wouldn’t put that much faith in them. Just chalk it up to luck.”

Milo bounced on his forefoot and began to walk as if the weight over him had been lifted. “My friend, your plans are more than just luck. It’s going to take a lot for me to stop believing in them. Come on, the answer to this mystery waits ahead,” he boldly declared.

Ezra reluctantly took the compliment with a subdued grin and followed after his friend.

“Are you sure this is the right building?” Milo asked.

“You see any other retirement homes on this street? Niall said Roltin Street, and this is it.”

“But how will we question anyone if we can’t get in?” Milo stared up at the imposing gate that blocked their entry.

Black metal bars, about an arm's length above them, surrounded a polished marble building that stood three stories high. Rectangular windows were spaced symmetrically on the second and third floors, and a stairwell alongside a ramp led up to the door. The material the building was made of looked new, but the design was antiquated. A face creased with age glanced at them from the second floor with displeasure. Milo wrinkled his nose back in mild disgust at the disconcerting look, and the man pulled curtains over their only view inside.

“We’re not going to be let in if you’re making faces at the residents,” Ezra sighed.

Milo gripped the bars like he was about to bend a gap in the metal. “He did it first. Just returning the favor.”

Ezra scanned the fence for any openings but was met with disappointment. He considered climbing over. It wouldn’t be impossible, but once they were inside, there would be no point. They would be seen as intruders and thrown back out.

“Young man, are you visiting someone today?”

Ezra switched his attention to the kindly voice behind him. A man in a wheelchair smiled up at him and wheeled a little closer. This is the chance I need. “Not a particular person. An old friend of a friend used to visit here, and I haven’t seen him in a while. Do you know the name Marlaove?”

The name made a grin spread across the old man’s face. “Yes, I do know him. Now that you mention it, it has been quite some time since I last saw him. Come in, come in. Any friend of Marlaove’s is a friend of mine.”

Milo and Ezra backed away from the gate as the man neared a small black box attached to one of the metal rails. He slid a disk, not too dissimilar to the ones every Sky-seeker has, into the box. As he withdrew the disk, the gate clicked open and automatically slid to the side.

“The name’s Rowan,” the old man said as he stored the disk away.

“I’m Ezra.”

“And I’m Milo,” he chimed in.

Ezra reached for the handles of Rowan’s wheelchair. "No, son, I can do it myself.” His voice felt like a slap on the wrist.

Rowan gripped the wheels and pushed himself forward. Once they arrived at the ramp, Ezra wondered if he should reach out again. Rowan stared up the intimidating slope and gently rested his hands on the push rings. Taking a deep breath, he swiped his palms against the metal. The metal squeaked as his movement became faster and faster. Ezra tilted his head to get a better look at what the old man was doing. To him, it looked pointless.

Unless Ezra realized as Rowan suddenly rocketed up the ramp. He can activate a skill.

“Coming? Or am I too fast for you young fella’s?” Rowan beamed at the top of the steep slope. "This is a retirement home for Sky-seekers after all.”

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“I like him much better than the creep staring out the window,” Milo said as he lept up the steps with youthful energy.

Ezra followed, hoping Milo wouldn’t keep making comments like that once they got in. He wasn’t about to get kicked out when they had come so far. Milo opened the dark oak door and Rowan entered while giving Milo an appreciative nod.

The inside of the building was filled with natural light from a large window in the back. Chairs covered in velvet upholstery symmetrically rested around two wooden tables that let off a familiar glow. They were likely made from the trees of the luminescent forest. Despite the plain beige wallpaper, the room felt cozy.

“Rowan, have your guests scheduled a visit?” A young woman with a welcoming smile and straight black hair that extended to her shoulders asked.

"No, they haven’t,” he grumbled.

“You know the rules we have about guests,” the woman responded. “You can’t keep letting people in without appointments.”

“Amanda, they're harmless. Let an old man have company when he pleases.” Rowan continued to stare forward, indicating he didn’t want to take this conversation any further.

Amanda sighed after a few moments of silence and surveyed the new visitors. “The least both of you could do is fill out a guest pass.”

“Yes, of course,” Ezra said in a stiff tone.

Amanda led them to the front desk and handed them slips of paper with blanks for general information such as a name and a reason for the visit. Once the paperwork was done, Amanda’s strained smile showed her dedication to the profession.

Milo and Ezra met up with Rowan, who had taken his place around one of the wooden tables. Ezra noticed several other elderly people already occupied four out of the six seats. They took the remaining two seats, and a woman with a crooked nose began the conversation.

“What poor souls did you drag in this time?” She taunted Rowan.

“These two young men know Marlaove,” Rowan responded. “You know the skinny man who used to visit often.”

“Ah, him, shady fellow, but he always had a kind heart.” A balding man said.

“I still have that bottle of gin he snuck in,” the man to Ezra’s right cackled as soon as the words left his mouth. “A kind heart indeed.”

“Well,” Ezra said in an unsteady voice. “We don’t know Marlaove directly. I said we know a friend of his. Like you all, no one has seen him in months.”

“Wilfred?” Rowan arched an eyebrow.

“Yeah, he was the one who asked us to help search for him.” They weren’t really doing this all for Wilfred. This was just a means to find him and ask about Faulpher-tek. But the rest of them didn’t need to know that. “So any information about him could help in our search. Like, did he ever mention what job he had?” They all stared into the air with blank faces as if the answer was out there. Ezra prodded again. “Anything. Anything at all?”

"Marco, did he ever tell you where he got the bottle of gin?” Rowan said to the man on Ezra’s right.

Marco scratched the wispy hairs on his chin. “Somewhere on the outskirts of Subterris. He said it was the finest he had out there. Scar-Roux’s is an expensive brand; I can’t imagine how he procured it. The only reasonable explanation is that he owns a liquor store.”

“That could be it,” the woman said. “He always talks about people on the outskirts a lot. Those friends of his could just be customers. That man always had more friends than I thought conscionable. Always rattling off names that we swore he had never mentioned before.”

“Or, Mary, what if those were just his contract kills for the week?" The bald man interjected.

“Oh, come off it, Leo. You know that ridiculous rumor holds no water around here.” Mary’s face blushed red with anger.

Leo shot back with unexpected vigor. “He always had a vibro-crystal gun at his side. And those strange artifacts he carried. He never explained those to us.”

“I always thought he was a negotiator between guilds.” Rowan’s deep voice cut through the tension like a heavy blade through the air. “Think about it. Meeting new people and clients at an unprecedented rate. You interact with a lot of people in that line of work.” He motioned to Leo. “And the gun and artifacts. He has to keep those around. Whenever a fight breaks out between Sky-seekers, you know how vicious that can get.” Leo nodded as if recalling some distant memory, and Rowan continued. “And the Scar-Roux. A difficult job like that has to pay well. With a healthy salary, Marlaove would have no issue affording the good stuff.” He raised his hand to make one last point. “The outskirt stuff too. Many guilds have people stationed there, so it's only natural he would be out there all the time.”

One by one, the other people in the circle considered Rowan’s explanation. Even to Ezra, he couldn’t find any hole in the argument. It seemed like a sound explanation.

“I hate to say it. But you make sense,” Leo admitted with a weary smile.

“But even if he’s somewhere on the outskirts of Subterris, that doesn’t narrow it down much. There are seven guilds that could be stationed anywhere out there,” Ezra said.

“Maybe that's why no one can find him?” Milo glanced at the second floor and then returned his attention to the group.

“There’s one place he mentioned,” Marco replied. “A bar not too far from here. He always made it a habit to go there at the end of every week.”

Today’s the end of the week, Ezra realized. “What’s the name?”

“The Silver Margwen.”

Ezra had heard the name Margwen before. Maybe Zoe had brought it up, but he still didn’t know exactly what a Margwen was. He repeated the name in his head until it stuck. “Where is it?”

“Off of 4th and Dawkin.” A tender grin touched Rowan’s lips. “Please find him for us.” The group nodded in solemn agreement. “That man brought a life to this place we’ve been sorely missing.”

“We’ll drag him back here even if he comes kicking and screaming.” Laughter rolled through the group as Milo’s serious expression turned to a goofy grin.

They both stood up and said their goodbyes. Amanda waved to them, and it seemed like her sour demeanor had completely evaporated. Closing the door behind them, they were thrust back into a busy and noisy world.

It didn’t take long to find the Silver Margwen. True to its name, the building bore a silver-plated sign of a four-legged creature with a pointed snout and large paws. Ezra couldn’t make out any discernible eyes on its head. What a strange thing, he thought before he followed Milo into the bar.

Soft lighting that left shadows across every table and shrouded the patrons in mystery came from a few chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The air was heavy, not with smoke, but with a history that would seem overwhelming to any newcomer. A few people glanced at the two young men, but most kept to themselves. A polished dark oak counter wrapped around a shelf covered in a sparkling array of bottles of all shapes and sizes.

Ezra stopped dead upon seeing a man in black boots and a stained gray coat. His brown hair, flecked with gray along the sides, waved to the back of his head. Wilfred turned to face the newcomers with a smirk and swirled a drink in his hands.