Malich hefted his heavy bags, each tool inside was a precious possession crafted for a specific purpose. He had inherited some of them from his father, but he had bought most of them himself. Recently, he had even splurged on a brand new balance truing caliper, despite his old one still working perfectly. But Malich couldn't resist the latest technology.
He rationalized to himself that it was imperative to have the latest tools to remain competitive in his craft. The field was constantly evolving, and any pause in keeping up with the latest technology would result in being left behind.
As he strolled through the bustling flea market, his eyes lingered on every innovative gadget he came across. However, he had to remind himself that he was here to sell his wares, not acquire new ones.
He needed money so he could crash for a few days until he got paid for the machine.
“The machine! How will Bulov contact me now that I’ve moved! I’ll need to go back and tell him sometime.” With another worry added to his mind he pressed forward into the market.
The market was teeming with people, mostly residents of the middle city areas, which was not surprising, given that most of the city residents lived in this district.
Out of the corner of his eye, Malich spotted a police officer in their heavy blue and bronze uniform. It reminded him of the officer he had met the night before. He wondered if she still held suspicion. He shook off the thought and continued down the row of stalls, searching for potential buyers for his tools.
His eyes darted between the faces of people. He was nervous, if he was caught with what he carried it would all be over for him. He would be thrown in jail if he was lucky more likely he would lose his head.
He breathed deeply but he choked on his own breath when he made out a face amongst the crowd.
He walked straight toward the man with an idea in mind. “Timony, over here!” He shouted waving to the man.
The large man turned to Malich and Malich flashed a smile. Timony smiled as well but his was warm and caring, that of a parent.
“Malich, what are you doing here? And what is with those bags?” he asked.
Malich shook his head, “Unfortunately I think I’ve screwed up. The coppers might be coming after me soon.”
Timony showed a look of shock. “What happened?”
“A Lot of things.” Malich sighed. “But maybe seeing you here is a good omen. I have some dangerous devices on me and I need to get rid of them. I'm willing to sell them to you cheap.”
“Devices?” Timony questioned. Suddenly a look of understanding dawned upon his face. “I see.”
As Malich was about to continue his discussion, a man with a disheveled appearance approached from behind Timony. His ragged clothes appeared to be something he picked up from the garbage, except for his fancy bowler hat and his brand new scarf. His long, straight, dark maroon hair flowed out from underneath it, contrasting sharply with the rest of his appearance. The scarf was too nice for the man and Malich couldn't help but think that the hat was likely stolen, it was simply too nice.
However, what really caught Malich's attention was the large, yellowish-green splotch on the man's jacket. Malich couldn't ignore the man and even more so couldn't resist asking, "Is that vomit on your shirt?"
The man looked at the stain as if it was his first time seeing it. He extended a finger digging into the slime before tasting it. Malich felt his stomach churn with disgust.
He smacked his lips tasting it. "No… I don't quite know what that is, but it's not vomit. And I know what vomit tastes like." the man replied. "I’m not sure how that got there. I suppose it'll be one of those great mysteries forever unknown, like if bread is a vegetable, does a god hiccup, and if the boogeyman is real. Those kinda things."
Malich was about to reply and comment about his thoughts on what the man thought of as ‘mysteries’ when Timony intervened, coughing to get the man's attention. "Faux, why don't you go get yourself cleaned up?" Timony suggested.
“Okay.” Faux said, but he did not move to go clean himself. “Can I have some money?” he said after a moment.
Timony let out a sigh and handed the man a single Animo.
Faux looked down at the bill and exclaimed, "Sweet pudding!" before wandering off, seemingly forgetting all about cleaning himself up.
Malich turned to Timony and asked, "What's wrong with him?"
"A lot of things," Timony replied.
"Is he another stray?" Malich inquired, watching as Faux stumbled away.
"Yeah... You know I would've taken you in too if you wanted," Timony said with a hint of regret.
"I can survive on my own," Malich replied.
"Survive?… sure. Live?… I’m doubtful. We aren't meant to be alone, Malich. Never have, never will." Timony said, the words hanging heavy in the air.
Timony didn't stop there and began regressing into a philosophical rant about family and the need for companionship. In the past Malich would have listened attentively but now he knew better and simply ignored him.
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
“Would you be willing to buy the devices I have on me? Im willing to sell them to you at a steep discount. I just need them off me.” Malich interrupted.
Timony stopped. “Let me see them.”
Malich lowered a large bag carefully to the floor. “I assume the Gilded Gears might want the last of my stache.”
Timony squatted down and peeked into the bag. “What on earth are you going about with all these?”
“I simply had them on hand.” Malich said not wanting to divulge more information than necessary. “Will you buy?”
“One sec let me look.” He answered.
As Timony dug through the bag, Malich's eyes were drawn to Faux's frenzied movements as he flitted from one stall to the next with reckless determination. He moved impossibly fast, clearly manipulating time to increase his speed. The bustling marketplace provided cover for his frantic search, but it was clear that he was in a hurry. Suddenly, a police officer barged into view, brandishing his baton with palpable anger as he confronted Faux. Malich watched as they grappled briefly before the officer gestured wildly at the surrounding stalls, while Faux's foot pounded the ground in frustration. Malich watched the two in confusion.
Meanwhile, Timony began rummaging through Malich's bag, pulling out a sizable metal cylinder that caught Malich's attention. Worry creased his brow as he turned to Timony and exclaimed, "What are you doing? You can't just whip that out in public!"
But Timony waved off his concern. "Relax, nobody's paying attention. And even if they do, they won't know what these things are."
Malich watched nervously as Timony sifted through his collection of dangerous devices. Some were small and sleek, while others were bulky and ominous. Malich knew each one intimately, and the thought of them being exposed in public made him shudder.
As he turned his attention back to the police officer, fearful that he would see what Timony was doing, Malich was surprised to see him sitting on a bench, sipping on a juice box with Faux. The two of them sat together as though they were old friends. Their easy camaraderie left Malich feeling slightly envious. How had Faux managed to defuse the situation so quickly? He wondered.
As the sound of the zipper echoed in his ears, Malich turned his gaze back to Timony. "Well?" he asked eagerly, wanting to know if they could close the deal.
Timony replied by holding up the object he had retrieved from Malich's bag.
"What about it?" Malich asked, not understanding the non verbal question Timony was trying to ask.
“What is it?” Timony asked, examining the device.
"It's a failed prototype," Malich replied, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "It took me weeks to craft that single device, but I couldn't figure out how to make it profitable. To be worthwhile, I'd need to be able to produce them in three days or less, and that was simply impossible."
Timony's curiosity was piqued. "What does it do?" he asked, stuffing the device back into the bag.
"It can simultaneously stop and reverse time, causing everything in its vicinity to stutter and pause. However, the effect only lasts a few moments and expert Chronomancers could escape it. Also, it only works within the sphere of influence of the Grand Clock. It needs a forward motion of time to push against," Malich explained, his voice taking on a hint of pride as he spoke about his creation.
"Looks like we're all set," Timony declared, securing both bags on his shoulders. Malich breathed a sigh of relief, glad that the deal had been successful. He watched as Timony turned to leave, but his attention was soon diverted by Faux, who appeared out of nowhere, sipping on a juice box as though he didn't have a care in the world. Malich couldn't help but feel annoyed by his carefree attitude.
As Timony handed over the agreed-upon payment, Malich's eyes widened with greed and excitement. He snatched the cash from Timony's hand and eagerly began counting the bills, his fingers moving swiftly as he tallied up the sum. The crispness of the notes made a satisfying rustling sound as he flipped them over in his hands, checking for any counterfeit bills. Finally satisfied with the payment, Malich tucked the money into his pocket with a smirk, feeling a sense of satisfaction that he had made a profitable transaction.
Malich noticed Faux eyeing him intently as he sipped on his juice box, his lips tightly wrapped around the straw. Malich couldn't help but feel a sense of unease under Faux's gaze. It was as if Faux was sizing him up, trying to determine if he was worth his attention. The silence between them was palpable as Malich nervously shifted from foot to foot, unsure of how to break it. Finally, Timony spoke up, breaking the silence. “Let’s go Faux.”
With a nod, Timony turned to leave, Faux trailing behind him with the juice box in hand. Before they could disappear into the crowd, Timony stopped and looked back at Malich.
"Take care of yourself, Malich," he said, his voice tinged with something that Malich couldn't quite place. "We may cross paths again one day."
With that, Timony turned and walked away, Faux in tow. Malich watched them disappear into the throngs of people at the marketplace, a sense of emptiness settling over him.
He knew that Timony was not a man to be underestimated, and he wondered what sort of dangerous schemes he would be getting up to next.
Shaking his head, Malich gathered his things and started to make his way back to a hotel that he could crash at. As he walked, he couldn't help but wonder what the future held for him, and whether he would ever have the chance to experience the kind of freedom that Faux seemed to display.
Malich turned on his heels and began to stride away, his face set in a grave expression. But before he could get too far, Faux bounded up to him, his lanky limbs flailing about.
Well, well, well, if it isn't Serious Sally!" he exclaimed, a broad grin spreading across his face like a sunrise. "Where do you think you're off to in such a hurry?"
Malich's stoic demeanor remained unshaken, his face a mask of unyielding resolve. "Serious Sally?" he repeated, arching an eyebrow in confusion. "I must admit, I've never heard that particular expression before."
Faux let out a hearty chuckle. "That's because I made it up!" he declared proudly, his chest puffed out like a peacock. “Though I'm certain there must be someone quite serious with that name somewhere out there in the wide world.”
Malich questioned Faux, "And I assume you made up those mysteries?"
Faux parroted back, "Mysteries? Oh, those. No, they are genuine. Really authentic."
Malich's skepticism was palpable as he asked, "Yeah, sure. So is there a reason you're bothering me?"
Faux replied, "No, no real reason. You just caught my eye. You came into the market carrying an absurd amount of bags, and Timony seems to hold you in high regard. So, I thought I'd strike up a conversation."
Malich's patience was wearing thin as Faux pestered him with idle conversation. He shot Faux an irritated look and responded, "Well, stop. I don't have the mental fortitude to waste on nonsense or triviality. I have my own pressing matters to attend to, so please leave me alone."
Faux's grin only grew wider in response, seemingly unfazed by Malich's dismissive attitude. "Fine, fine," he said, his voice filled with faux cheerfulness. "Maybe we can chat again when you're not so stressed out. See ya, Malich."
As Faux walked away, Malich let out a sigh of relief. He needed to find a place to rest for the night where he could be safe from any potential threats. He pushed his way through the throngs of people, dodging left and right to avoid collisions intent on finding a hotel where he could peacefully rest for the night.