After waiting a few minutes, they reached the front of the queue, and Gideon negotiated a reasonable rate with a swarthy, bearded boatman who mostly spoke in single-word sentences.
Berenyn and Shylvena insisted on paying for the trip themselves. Though they paid in Elvish currency, they overpaid by enough that he didn’t even question the strange coins, just shoved them in his purse and gave a nod.
The boatman wasted no time paddling down one of the city’s many canals—split off from the main Amberdale River, they spread through the city like arteries. He skillfully navigated around the other boats as they headed towards the outskirts of Prospera. Gideon was impressed, as always, by how nimbly a skilled boatman could navigate using a single oar.
Soon, the enclave was easily recognizable in the distance by the giant tree at its center. It must have been five hundred span tall, if not more. Its massive crown of golden leaves covered the enclave in eternal shade.
The boatman took them to the closest dock and then quickly sped away after they had disembarked. Gideon noticed the pier was empty besides them—this was not a busy part of town. Only a few people were on the street, and most were elves. Gideon could tell that Berenyn and Shylvena were already feeling more comfortable. Thankfully, the smell of waste had also faded.
A high wall of blindingly white stone surrounded the enclave. The stone was not from around here—Gideon assumed it had been imported from one of the Elvish kingdoms to the west, though Gideon had no idea which one.
“At last,” Shylvena said, one of the few Elvish phrases that Gideon recognized. She skipped forward and, without waiting for Gideon or her brother, began hurrying towards the large archway that led inside the enclave’s walls.
Berenyn and Gideon followed close behind her.
As they approached, two elvish guards armed with spears held out their hands, and Shylvena stopped in front of them. A conversation began in Elvish, too quick and nuanced for Gideon to understand. Berenyn soon joined them, making gestures with his hands.
There was one word Gideon couldn’t help but recognize—his own name, especially when Berenyn gestured towards him and the guards fixed their eyes on him.
“Uh, hello,” Gideon said.
One of the guards replied in Gleurican Common. “They say they wouldn’t have made it here without your assistance.” The guard bowed, their chain mail clinking as they bent forward. “You must meet our leader, Evander Mistwood, before you go. He will wish to thank you personally.”
They were soon ushered into the center of the enclave, under the boughs of the great tree, and into a small wooden house that sat next to its massive trunk. A sign above the door, written in many languages, read Mistwood and Son.
Is this some kind of business? Gideon thought. This was different from what he had expected.
After they entered, Gideon realized they were inside what appeared to be a small lobby. An elvish woman sat behind a reception desk, flipping through a magazine with a shirtless male elf on the cover. She tucked it under the desk as they entered and straightened up in her chair, flashing them a warm smile.
The walls and floor were made from hardwood. A few couches with thin, threadbare cushions had been arranged against the room's walls. Portraits of smiling elves were mounted behind the reception desk. A couple of doors led to the side, and one led to the back, with a sign on it that read, “Mr. Mistwood.”
After a brief exchange in Elvish with the receptionist, the guard left, and the trio sat down to wait. Gideon sank into the couch, grateful to have a chance to relax. But only a minute or two passed before one of the doors opened, and a tall, thin, silver-haired elf appeared there, wearing the yellow robes of a mage adept.
The elf turned to Berenyn and Shylvena and bowed, then exchanged a few words with them in Elvish. Then he turned to Gideon and beckoned him forward. “Come in, Gideon,” he said. “My son and I will help Berenyn and Shylvena with their paperwork in a moment. But I wanted to chat with you first.”
Gideon followed him into the office, glancing back at Berenyn and Shylvena—but they both seemed perfectly at ease. Gideon hoped they would find some comfort here.
Evander’s office was bare, with plain wooden furniture. Two framed diplomas, written in Elvish, were mounted on the wall. But otherwise, there was little in the way of decoration. Evander sat behind a small desk covered in papers and gestured at the chair opposite him. Gideon set down his backpack and his staff, then took a seat.
“Greetings. As you may have guessed, I’m Evander, and I help new arrivals acclimate to life here in Prospera. From what Berenyn and Shylvena told the guard, they owe you their lives. In cases like this, we offer a monetary reward for service to our brethren.”
Gideon shook his head. “Thanks for the offer, but they paid me already. Quite a bit, actually. Whatever you were going to give me… Well, they’ll need some assistance getting started here, won’t they?” Gideon knew firsthand how expensive this city could be.
Evander smiled and leaned back in his chair. “I can see why they spoke so highly of you. Well, listen, we’ll help them settle here, don’t you worry. I was going to do that anyway.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a business card, and slid it across the table. “But if you ever need my services, don’t hesitate. Let’s say I owe you one.”
As Gideon studied the card, he suddenly understood where they were and why.
“You’re a lawyer?”
The silver-haired elf nodded. “Specializing in immigration but also knowledgeable in civil rights, contract law, and more. Like I said, if you ever need me, my number is right there.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a pink crystalline tablet. It was one of the newest models, one Gideon hadn’t seen before. “If you’d like, we can exchange our contact frequencies.”
“I would,” Gideon said, his face turning red. “Or, I mean, I will after I buy a new communicator. My old one broke.”
“Ah, fair enough. The new models are incredibly fragile, aren’t they?”
Gideon nodded. “Something like that. So you’re really going to help Berenyn and Shylvena? How does this work?”
“That’s a fair question. Nothing good comes for free, does it? Is that what you’re thinking?”
“Just speaking from experience.”
“You’re a shrewd fellow. Quite right, Gideon. In this case, we do a donation drive around the enclave twice a year. All of us come from somewhere else. Or if not us personally, our parents, grandparents, and so on. No one comes here for a fun trip, you understand. We all have our reasons for living so far from home. We try to care for our new arrivals as best we can.”
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Gideon nodded. “I’m glad to hear that. I want to ensure I’m leaving them in a good place, you know?”
“Of course.” The elf seemed to consider this a moment. “I should say, the donations cover expenses to help them get settled here. But my time and expertise are provided for free. The profits from my son and I’s other business help compensate for it. We do our best.”
Gideon raised an eyebrow. “Other business?”
“Oh yes! You missed the best part of our establishment. We should rejoin your friends, anyway. You must all be famished, I imagine.”
Evander got up and led him out of the office, then ushered Gideon, Berenyn, and Shylvena through another door that led into what appeared to be a wood-paneled restaurant.
Square tables and chairs were spread throughout the space. In the center, a large serving area was set up, cafeteria style, with many different stations containing different types of fruits and vegetables. A few elvish patrons were serving themselves in simple wooden bowls. A bored-looking elf who looked eerily similar to Evander but with brown instead of silver hair sat behind a counter in the corner of the room.
Gideon raised an eyebrow, but no one seemed to notice. Evander was talking excitedly to Berenyn, and Shylvena had clapped her hands together and strode forward to grab a bowl for herself.
The law firm is also a salad bar? Gideon thought, trying to stop himself from laughing. I can’t wait to tell Grimsby about this.
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After their late lunch, Gideon took his leave of the elves. Evander had started to prepare some forms for Berenyn and Shylvena, which would allow them to begin the process of immigrating to Acretan. Evander had also set them up in temporary dwellings within the enclave. The siblings could stay there for up to six months, giving them time to find work and a permanent place to stay. Gideon promised to check in with them tomorrow, and both Berenyn and Shylvena thanked him again for all his help.
Gideon took a short boat ride over to the Fairweather District, which was in the eastern part of the city, not too far from the EnviroCharm building where he had used to work.
The sun was low in the sky, and Gideon was looking forward to taking a shower, relaxing, and perhaps getting an early night’s rest before he tried to take care of any business. After the past couple of days, he was feeling exhausted.
The apartment he shared with his roommate Flinn was a second-floor walk-up above a coin-operated magic laundromat and across the street from a small Dwarven grocery that sold great beer, bread, and cheese.
A single, flickering bulb lighted the entrance to the apartments. As Gideon approached, he heard something scurry away and saw a tail retreat into the darkness of the alleyway at the side of the building.
He climbed the steps, stopped at the door labeled Unit 12, and fumbled through his backpack until he found his keys. As he entered, he felt a sense of relief wash over him at the sight of the small, unkempt apartment. Though it wasn’t a good place, it had been his place for a long time, and it felt reassuring to be back here.
Even if it was likely for the last time.
Though admittedly, as his eyes took in the scene, he realized things were even more unkempt than usual. Perhaps, in Gideon’s absence, Flinn’s standards of cleanliness had slipped. The apartment consisted of a combined living room and kitchen, with two bedrooms and a bathroom down a hallway off to the side.
As Gideon listened, he heard the sound of the shower in the bathroom. That was strange. He would have thought Flinn would be at work by now unless he was running late.
Which did happen surprisingly often.
Putting it out of his mind, Gideon walked over to the couch and set down his backpack and staff next to it. He entered the kitchen, hoping to grab something to eat or drink, only to find the icebox almost empty and the kitchen sink stacked full of dirty dishes.
“Damn,” he whispered to himself. Flinn usually kept things clean, at least, if not exactly tidy. But Gideon couldn’t be too upset—with his communicator shattered into a hundred pieces, he hadn’t been able to warn Flinn that he would be home today.
The sound of the shower stopped, and Gideon heard whistling coming from the bathroom.
That, at least, was precisely the Flinn he remembered.
Gideon walked down the hall towards his bedroom, wondering if he should sleep now and shower later.
Not wanting to surprise his roommate, Gideon called out, “Hey! I’m back,” through the door.
To Gideon’s surprise, the door opened immediately, and a naked dwarf emerged with a towel wrapped around his long beard.
“Hey, Flinn,” Gideon said. But to his surprise, rather than let him pass, his roommate strode to the middle of the hallway and stared daggers at him.
“Flinn?” he shouted. “You’re saying all dwarves look the same?” He jabbed his finger towards Gideon.
As Gideon looked closer, he realized this wasn’t Flinn at all and began to panic. Who the hell was this? And why were they in his apartment?
“No, not at all!” he shouted. “Who the hell are you?”
Abruptly, the dwarf’s anger evaporated and he bent over, laughing as he removed his towel from his beard and wrapped it around his waist.
After an awkward moment, the dwarf finally stopped laughing and wiped a tear from his eye. “The look on your face, lad! I got you good. Flinn is my cousin. Our mamas are sisters. Everyone says we do look awfully similar.” He pointed his thumb at his chest. “But I’m Brynn, not Flinn, with a Y, not an I, and don’t you forget it!”
“Ah,” Gideon said. “Uh, nice to meet you?”
“Flinn let us stay on your couch for a few days. Hope you don’t mind.”
“It’s all right,” Gideon said. “I’m pretty exhausted, so I think I’m going to bed.”
“Oh,” Brynn said. “Uh…”
Gideon raised an eyebrow at Brynn, then stepped around him and opened the door to his room. Everything was just as he’d left it—his bookshelf, his cluttered desk, and … the large lump under the covers of his bed?
“Let me guess,” Gideon said, his head pounding. “This is Flinn’s other cousin, Wynn or Lyn or something…”
“No, that’s Cousin Thora,” Brynn exclaimed, reaching past Gideon and gently closing the door. “She sleeps deep, but if you wake her she’ll try to kill us both, lad. As soon as she’s up, I’ll tell her you’re back and she’s kicked out. I do apologize. Flinn tried to warn you, but you never answered his calls.”
Gideon sighed. “Where the hell is Flinn, then?”
“Oh, he left for work hours ago.”
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Brew Brothers was a short walk from their apartment, located along a busy avenue filled with bars, restaurants, dance clubs, and more. Unlike many other establishments in the area, Brew Brothers had a simple sign and minimal advertising—just a wooden placard depicting a beer keg that hung above the door.
Inside the bar, dim lighting illuminated a classic beer hall in the Dwarven style—long wooden tables surrounded by short stools and shelves on the walls filled with gems and precious minerals for decoration. Patrons drank from metal steins, each one unique, covered in hand-crafted etchings depicting ribald Dwarven folktales.
As Gideon walked in, he spotted Flinn at his usual spot, tending the bar. Flinn was in the middle of serving a customer a tall, frothy ale. When he turned towards the door a moment later, however, his eyes brightened.
Flinn had short reddish-brown hair and a long beard he kept neatly groomed and braided. Since he was at work, he wore a smock inscribed with Brew Brothers written in Dwarvish runes on the front. His only accessories were four gemstone earrings, two in each ear.
The dwarf jumped off the platform he stood on behind the bar, then ran out and grabbed Gideon in a hug, lifting him off the ground by the legs.
“Welcome back!” he shouted, twirling Gideon around with his superior Might before setting him down on the ground. “You ever try to answer your damn communicator? Thought you got eaten by wolves, or that sketchy letter you got was from organ smugglers.”
“The wolves were the least of my problems,” Gideon said, laughing. “But it all worked out better than I could have expected. I can’t wait to tell you about it, but first, what the hell is going on in our apartment?”
“Oh,” Flinn said, looking bashful. “My aunt is getting re-married, so the whole family came in from out of town. You know how these Dwarven weddings are. I didn’t know you’d be back so soon. Or at all!”
Gideon shook his head, then walked to the bar and took one of the tall stools reserved for the human customers. Flinn climbed up behind the bar and grinned. “So what’ll it be? You look in need of a libation.”
The windows were tinted, so it was impossible to see much outside. But it had been close to getting dark. “A pint of ale. And an ice water too, please.”
“Water?” Flinn shouted, incredulous. He turned to the other bartender, a black-haired dwarf on the other end of the bar, who was helping a different customer. “Hey, can you get this guy an ice water for me?”
The only response was laughter.
Flinn tapped a sign behind the bar with his finger which read, rather unhelpfully, “Anything you want, so long as it’s brewed!”
“You can’t make an exception for a friend?” Gideon asked. “I’ve got a killer headache.”
“That’s what the beer is for,” Flinn said. He stroked his beard while thinking, then leaned in conspiratorially. “Sorry, pal. Best I can do is iced tea.”
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