"And I grant you a duad of boons, a token of amity to you who has journeyed. When you will it, you need but speak your boon to my name, and it will be true." - Words of the Stone Crown, God of the Adelsten Theocracy.
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The streets of the Ribs stunk of the afternoon sweep, an unfortunately familiar scent of Sulfur and Coal. Crowds of hundreds and possibly thousands waded through the alleys and bridges at the end of their shifts, scurrying to make it home before dusk claimed the last arctic light from the mana spires and sent it to the surface of the three-floored city. Far above shone the circulations of an intricate web of mana channels, crawling in glowing blue pipes across the roof in folding patterns and alighting the box-shaped buildings of the Ribs.
Finnian would like to think the place looked at least somewhat welcoming. The stark blue light from the towering spires reaching the roofs were a beauty, to be sure. But one look at the rocky brick and block walkways or the walls the color of swampy green not even the majestic magic illumination could hide, betrayed the illusion.
He hunched behind two burly workers discussing their events from today's coal vault expeditions coal vaults, his dirty cloak hiding his face and shape. "The geode cracker broke after sum' overenthusiastic newly employed overseer attempted to crack it open, they had to bring in Dusters to shave it open! Apparently it contained a fermented sapphire." The one to the right said to which the one to the left spat. "Bah! That's rhinestone tales, a fermented gemstone this early in the year is far too rare."
While the two spoke to each other, Finnian slunk up much like a rat snickering at a newfound snack. Making use of the free distraction, he shot forward both of his hands into the back pockets of the workers, one came away empty but the other clutched a Copper disc, which he hurriedly stuffed into a stitched compartment in his sleeve. He felt a shift in the man to the right who'd noticed the touch, and in a quick thought Finnian pushed his right foot down hard and crashed into the pair.
"My apologies good sirs, So sorry!" He lifted his hands up but kept his head down, playing a worried smile on his lips but hiding his eyes. "Please forgive a humble peasant for his mistake."
The two men stared down at him and their sudden stop in the traffic of people caused everyone to move around them like a water around a pillar in a downward stream. Their breathing reached his nostrils, one smelled of roast chicken while the other smelled like burnt garlic. "Watch your step, grasshopper," Spoke the one to the left, though it sounded more like the growl of a fat bear. "Wouldn't want any accidents in a place like this."
"Of course, of course it was my mistake!" Finnian waved his hands innocently, "I'm so sorry, I'll move on." And then when neither of the two men objected, he awkwardly shuffled back into the mass of moving people. When he was out of clear sight, he smoothly moved up and left, parallel to the part where he'd re-entered the traffic. As expected, ten seconds later he heard an angry yell not unlike an unoiled conveyor belt. And Finnian grinned like a kid who'd successfully stolen sweets from his neighbor.
He continued walking with the crowd, making some turns until the traffic diverged into two paths to the left and right, and forward unto a bridge. Finnian continued with the now considerably smaller crowd up onto the crescent shaped bridge. Spires decorated the bridge on either side in trios. Two at the start, two in the middle, and two on the other side. He stopped in the middle of the bridge beside one of the spires and pressed himself tightly against it. Below him the bridge spanned an artificial canyon, a vertical relief in which the sewage of the city flowed in the sewer which were aptly dubbed the 'Bowels'.
As he waited, the passage of people thinned from hundreds to dozens. Workers had gotten home and now it was mostly just couriers or mechanics moving around material or making it from one factory to the next. He looked to the other end of the bridge where he'd been moving originally, which was a large semi-circle square. Lampposts illuminated a small market street where pawnshops sold barely-functional scrap and low-income engineers sold their services. There were a handful of stone plant pots around, but nothing was planted, nobody was willing to put neither the effort nor the money into sustaining them, and the city sure as hell didn't care.
This was one of the few places that could be considered civilized during regular workdays. He watched as regular folk conversed under the lamps and dim manalight, as women coming from the surface carried baskets of groceries. Some children played around a clean water fountain used for drinking in the square center, sometimes grabbing handfuls and splashing it on each other.
Things continued to flow like usual for likely an hour. Finnian was impatiently fiddling with the thin-fibre ropes tied around his wrist when he spotted queer movement in the corner of his eye. Locking his gaze on the abnormality, he spotted a vague figure standing in the shadows of one of the outer stores. The person was wearing a cloak much like his own, and was also staring right at him. The person lifted their head slightly revealing the dirty face of a middle aged man. Rolan nodded at Finnian, who nodded in return. Then Rolan looked over towards the roof of a building - Finnian followed his gaze and spotted two people he'd not noticed. Both were hidden in blending in with their matching cloaks on the roof, looking like statues. Malorie and Milly nodded to him, and then they all settled back into relaxed stances.
The problem wasn't that the square was wide open and visible to everyone around. It was easy to blend in, and there were plenty of people around. He was plenty capable of hiding, so that was no issue. The problem was that there were only four of them, while the white robed that now came walking into the square numbered in five. Unlike everything else in the entirety of the space, the Dusters wore pristine white robes rimmed with silver lining. Their hoods were down, revealing well cared for and clean faces.
Finnian swallowed the anxiousness in his stomach, or at least tried to, as he inconspicuously bent to one knee and pressed his right hand into a stone on the walkway. Unlike an actual stone, he felt it give way to become a soft mushy material. He reached his hand further down, cracking a thin wooden panel, and rested his fingers on a button. All the while watching the Dusters. They stopped underneath a lamppost, where one of the fivesome dislodged to enter a store. He waited five more seconds which felt far too slow, agonizingly so. Sweat from his warm attire beaded his forehead and his back felt sticky. Then he pressed down.
The lamppost glass exploded and downward flooded a stream of smoke. Finnian sprung to his feet and down the bridge towards them. In his peripheral he spotted Malorie and Milly's cloaks flapping in the air as they fell to the ground and dashed for the smokescreen, Rolan already ahead of them all, he disappeared in the mist. Finnian shook his wrist as he ran, loosening the rope until a dagger dangled from his sleeve. He spun the dagger at the end of the rope, running while aiming at where he'd remembered one of the Dusters to be standing. With practiced precision he threw the roped dagger forward and soon after heard the satisfying sound of tearing cloth and a light thud as something heavy hit the ground.
By the time he'd reached it, the smoke had already dispersed and the first thing that caught his eye was the gray silk pouch that lay on the ground, far too pristine and clean in comparison to the musty stone. Translucent blue light seeped from the hole at the top, coalescing into a dim mist that trickled serenely into the open air before dispersing. His fellow accomplices had done the same and before the Dusters could react they all dashed and swiped up one bag each and then separated, running four different directions. Finnian let the rope around his wrist loose until it fell away, leaving the dagger behind amongst the other three.
Behind him as he ran he heard a feminine voice yell, "We'll have you fuckers hangin' from the rafters by dawn!" As the chase began in earnest.
His legs catapulted him forward through and around the mess of people as he chose a three-person wide boulevard as his escape. Stalls passed him in a blur and people shouted angrily after him. He was short and lithe, giving him the advantage of narrow gaps. He felt rather than heard the swift and encroaching presence of the Duster behind him like a loose feral dog.
He could outrun almost anyone, but Dusters weren't ordinary people. They had mana pumping through their veins, energy that lended strength every stride they took. So it was no surprise when he looked backward and spotted a blonde woman sprinting full speed towards him with a hateful glare on her face. It was slim, but she was inching closer to him. This left him but one choice. Tying the pouch of gemdust to his belt he took a sharp right turn into a small alleyway. Mossy vines hung from the walls in long patches.
He maneuvered slyly around the tightly packed people that populated the alley and in an effort of distraction pulled a wooden plank that held up a shelf with two barrels of an alleyway alehouse. He chanced a glance backward and grinned slightly as the Duster had to slow to jump the barrels. He ran up to the end of the alleyway a cart blocked the path and slid roughly under it and into an open street, taking a left and continuing his run.
With some borrowed time, he took in his surroundings. Judging by the moving carts, he was close to the stairway to the city surface. He had to go opposite that, and in his frantic escape he'd gone the wrong way. Hearing a wooden crash behind, his head spun and he saw a cleanly cleaved cart and a very angry woman spying around, a strand of coppery glowing thread stretching from her belt to her right hand. He resumed his run. Being unable to go in the direction he needed to go due to the Duster, he resorted to the tried and true method of going up. With a firm shove off the ground, he grabbed hold of a stone store sign and threw himself up to grab the parapet, vaulting himself over.
His mobility now doubled, he dashed away from the center of the city. Atop the roofs everything was visible in the Ribs. The mana towers conducting mana in vertiginous spirals through to the top of the city, the active afternoon streets, and the very angry now-alabaster colored duster keeping pace down below. He jumped from one building to the next, his feet nimble and quick to adjust. He kept his gaze trained on both the path ahead and on the Duster, who to his surprise was beginning to slow. Feeling victory just ahead, he pressed himself forward with all of his strength.
After two dozen seconds more he spotted it: The large tower-like building with an opening where people walked up and down a large set of segmented stairs. He felt joy, but the feeling lasted only a second, as pain followed a split second later. A musical sound like a chord being strummed followed by a blast of air hit him from behind, shoving him off the side of the building and into the streets below. His cloak tore through the fall but saved him the rips, but his back still hurt like he'd been hit by a cart going downhill.
Above him he barely heard the voice of the woman through his ear muffling pain. "Please lay still and I'll make sure you get a fair sentencing!"
He had no such intentions. Pushing himself back up to his feet, he gritted his teeth. He was too close to give up now. Instead of going out into the open boulevard he opted for going deeper into the network of alleyways. He arched his back as he half-ran, hearing and feeling painful pops. He had to get back out into the street and to the stairway, but the blast that had hit him indicated the Duster was now using String. He had two options. He could either use people as cover, or he could attempt to hide. Both were equally terrible. And as such, he chose the third option he didn't want to admit existed.
He heard the thump as the Duster hit the streets behind him. "Don't move." She said in a low voice and meaningful voice. She approached with clacking footsteps, the sound echoing slightly in the tight alley. "Please. This doesn't have to end badly. If you hand over that bag, I can see to it that you get a fair sentencing. I know why you steal, it's not easy to live down here. I used to myself. But death is worse, and the officials don't take kindly to gemdust thieves. So please, hand me that bag and I'll speak on your behalf."
Finnian turned, and saw the woman tense up. Her stance was taut and ready to spring. In her left hand she drew a long string which radiated a coppery color from a small box on her belt. Her index finger was positioned right at the halfway point, a ring with a sharp protruding bit ready to snap the string, and her right hand held the string upward. "Please."
He breathed heavily, his heart thumping in his ears. "Please, don't hurt me." He raised his hands shakily up into the air. "I've a family, they need to eat and the coal vaults don't pay nearly enough. I beg of you, let me go."
The woman bit her lip. "I can't do that." She tried to take a step towards him but he took one step back in turn. "Still!" She said with more force, "I don't want to hurt you, but I will if you leave me no other alternative."
Finnian finally felt the rope around his left arm loosen. He took another step back, feigning fright as he lowered his arms. "Please, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" He put more hurt into his voice, trying to make himself sound more convincing. It worked. The Duster took two steps forward but relaxed her stance, and in that instance Finnian threw his left arm forward. The roped dagger flew through the air and snapped the copper string the woman held in twain A thin sound like a guitar chord being strummed reverberated in the alleyway except with a magical humming to it.
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He gripped the rope before it could escape his sleeve and threw his arm back and the dagger came flying back. He caught it mid stride and the making use of distraction ran at her. She struggled to draw another piece of string from her box and raised an arm to protect herself from his rush. But he wasn't aiming for her. Instead, he put his right foot against the right wall and pushed off, then in the air did the same with his left on the left wall. A moment later he was sprinting with all the energy he could muster with at least one broken rib. He heard the musical cutting of another string, but before the blast of air could hit him he spun around the corner. The air blasted bits of stone and paper detritus into the open street,
He darted for the stairway building at the end of the boulevard, fidgeting with his right hand he fished forward the copper disc from the small compartment, a miracle it hadn't tore away in the fall. People all around stared at him with curiosity, then with fright as they spotted the Duster. Reaching the towering structure, he quickly spotted the man he was looking for. A dirty looking younger lad with a defiant attitude about him and a black mop of unkempt hair.
Lucan spotted him and grinned from ear to ear. "Well if it isn't the taker of table legs himself!" He exclaimed, throwing his arms out into a welcoming gesture. "What can I do for you today?"
Finnian panted as he reached him and held up the copper disc. "One Duster, the longer you stall her the more you get." He said in between panting breaths. Lucan's grin widened even more. "Pleasure doing business with you!" He said as he snatched the copper disc. He snapped his fingers, and half a dozen similar looking boys appeared from nearby groups to block the path to the stairway down. Finnian threw himself down, hearing the commotion above.
He was almost there. His chest stung like he'd been stabbed in the lungs, but he pressed on through the ever-thinning tunnels of the Bowels. He took a left turn into a smaller tunnel and at the end lied his salvation. An open room with a hole in the middle. Below him sloshed a liquid somewhere between green and yellow, he didn't want to put too much thought into what it contained. He allowed himself to slow down as he allocated his strength.
"Stop!" He looked behind him after reaching the room and saw the Duster, her garment even more dirty than before. "Please, stop!"
Before she had time to draw her string, Finnian looked down into the pit where the liquid sewage poured down into a hole and taking a deep breath, roped dagger still in his left hand, he jumped down.
"NO!" The sound of the woman's screams were barely audible as he plunged quickly through the drop. Spinning the rope, he threw the dagger dead ahead right before hitting surface. An instant later cold sewage surrounded him. He felt himself being pulled by the stream but before he went too long, he felt his left arm snap straight. The dagger had found a grip and pain lanced throughout his entire body. He gritted his teeth, but pulled himself back until he wrapped his right hand around the rope. Then he began meticulously pulling himself back. After a few seconds of pulling, he had enough room to look to his sides and, spotting an edge, he let go with his left hand and latched onto the sharp end. After taking a few more ragged breaths, he did the same with his right and summoning the final ounces of energy and strength in his entire body, he hauled himself out of the freezing green slum and onto solid stone ground.
He laid there panting. His entire body ached. Then panic came over and he frantically searched his waist band, only to feel relief when the bag was still tightly tied to his belt. He couldn't help but let the smile of self-satisfaction creep onto his face. After a few minutes of just laying there he forced himself to stand and begin to walk the sewer tunnels. It took only ten minutes of navigating the Bowels before he found the dropoff point. People stood outside of a door and on a bridge crossing the sewage stream. The door lead to a tavern, and they'd been drinking from it. Two intoxicated men looked towards him as he opened the door, their only commentary being. "Do you think we look like that?"
Inside nobody paid him any attention. The space was a haphazardly thrown together establishment where people drank from wooden tankards and sat on unsteady tables and stools missing legs. He walked through the mess of drunkards, card players, and drinking singers until he reached another door. Finnian looked to Markus, the bartender who nodded. Finnian entered through the door and closed it behind him. Inside of the room shone a lamp from the roof, the light was dim and orange and flies circled it, buzzing. A woman sat by a table dressed in all black. She was an oddity in this trash heap, her dress flawless and stainless, and face without blemish. They called her Vivienna, but anybody with a brain cell and a half knew that to be a fake name.
Finnian walked up to the table, untied his pouch, and lightly sat it down on the scraped wooden surface. Vivienna took it, wrinkling her nose at the green fluids on the sides as she tried to navigate the stains to open the bag. Looking inside, she nodded twice, then tightened it again and put it inside of a larger bag, from which she also drew a light purse. Opening the purse, she pulled out two silver pieces, placing them on the table. "We thank you for yet another service, Dolus." Her voice was cold but smooth. "We'll contact you again when we have another job lined up."
Finnian looked at the money on the table, making his puzzlement clear on his face. "I think you forgot at least two more pieces."
Vivienna shook her head in a blunt and infuriatingly calm manner. "Whoever gave you the details should have told you that gemdust thieving is no longer in the priority list."
Finnian scowled. "The one who gave me the details was Jacob, and no he didn't tell me that, in fact he didn't even so much as suggest a decrease in pay from the usual cut."
"Then I can only apologize for our failing in our ability to communicate it to you. Nevertheless, the contract was two silver per bag. You turned in one bag, thus you get the price of one bag."
Jacob, the man who'd given Finnian the job details, was a middleman. His job as the middleman in these transactions was to find someone with the fitting characteristics for a contract, then give them the details. Of course as a middleman he usually took a cut from the profits, both on the Employer's end and the Employed. Jacob was reliable. Greedy, but reliable. While he'd expect the cut Jacob would request to be big, he'd not expected the man to leave out vital information. The man was like a rat stuffed on cheese, short and chubby.
Finnian put both his arms down on the table. "Where can I find Jacob? He was the one who told me about this and I'd like to have a talk with him myself about this little error."
"Jacob is undergoing transfer to another one of our centers in a different region. He's likely waiting at the tram station on the city surface this very moment, so I do apologize but you'll likely not get your chance anytime soon." Vivienna said without skipping a beat.
"Then how will you contact me? Will you assign a new middleman?"
Vivienna shook her head. "You'll receive a letter. Now unless there is anything else, please take your payment and leave."
Finnian sighed but grabbed the handful of silver. Before leaving, he asked one final question. "What of Rolan, Malorie, and Milly. Have they been here already?"
"Rolan was here first, and Malorie after. Milly is yet to come by."
When nothing more was forthcoming, Finnian opened the door to the room and shut it behind him. He looked to Markus who gave him a both guilty and sympathetic expression as he scrubbed the pub deck. Finnian approached and let out a deep breath. Markus continued to sweep a wet cloth across the deck when he spoke. "Sorry, instructions from the big rats above." He stopped swabbing and reached a hand underneath. It returned a second later with a bottle. "Free of charge, on the house."
Finnian smiled. "What would I do without you." He took the bottle in his left hand, his right still clutching the silver. "Oh, and please send word when Milly comes around."
Markus nodded. "Good day to you, Master Dolus."
"Good day to you too Markus."
Leaving the tavern, Finnian half walked half stumbled through the tunnels and across bridges. Though the bowels were disgusting, filthy, and outright inhospitable in certain places, it felt more homey than the Bowels, and especially the Surface. Down here it was small and tight. A long spanning network of tunnels and pathways. And in a small corner of it, his home. His store. A dingy wooden sign hung from the roof by two rusted metal hinges, and the door wasn't doing any better. He placed down the bottle beside the door and lifted a small wooden piece wedged stuck in the door. Taking the key, he unlocked the door, picked up his bottle, went inside, and locked it again.
He skipped turning on the lights for the store part and instead moved through the darkness of the familiar store to the back and through another door. He searched for a coord hanging from the roof, finding it after some effort. Pulling it, White light blasted through the room with blinding force before settling into a soft yellow glow. The bulb hanging from the center humming softly with electrical power.
He dropped the coins on a table in the corner, placing the bottle beside. Then he fell back first into a bed which was propped up in the corner opposite.
It wasn't much, but he'd called it home for the past five years, and he'd worked it together himself. For what it was, it did the trick.
And then, he realized one thing he'd forgotten. Raising his arms to his face, he inhaled deeply through his nose, and almost puked.
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Camilla pulled the strings of the collar tighter around her neck, feeling the dress tighten around her shoulders and throat even more. She grimaced, the expression mimicked by the mirror in front of her. She stood in her cabin on the tram, having just arrived in the Coal city of Skor and preparing to embark into the city. She was used to wearing gowns and dresses, and usually she enjoyed them. But while wearing this dress she wasn't herself, and thus she didn't get to choose how it would fit.
"Stonecrown's Curse..." She seethed silently to herself.
"Are you in need of aid, Madame Arcwood?" Lilin asked through the door.
"No, I'm quite fine thank you!" Camilla answered, slipping effortlessly into her costumed voice. "I'll be out in just a moment, please tell me if things get hurried, though."
"Of course Madame!" Lilin answered enthusiastically.
Camilla tied the collar strings into an crude but acceptable knot and slipped it underneath the cloth of her bodice. Letting out restrained sigh, she patted down her dress and took one last look in the mirror before grabbing her suitcase. In truth it was more of a crate than a case, as it contained all of the things which she would need for her stay in Skor. Longer rather than bulky, it fit easily through most areas.
She unbolted the door to her cabin and slid it open. Outside stood Lilin, a young lively lady with cerulean blue eyes, tanned skin, and light bark hair. Camilla had quickly taken a liking to her. "I'm ready to leave now. Please, lead the way."
"Very well Madame. Do you wish for me to carry your luggage?"
"No thank you, I'll carry it for now. I don't want to burden you with too much so soon."
"Oh Madame Arcwood, you wouldn't. But very well." She said, then she spun on her feet to face right, and began walking down.
The tram was the color of polished silver and inside the floor was red and blue wool and silks. While it had been an enjoyable stay for the three days it had traveled, Camilla wasn't exactly a fan of the sheer amount of effort put into something designed around temporary comfort, but she also couldn't complain. She'd indulged in the fresh foods and services offered on board, and she'd be lying if she said her indulgences were only due to the role she was supposed to play.
They exited the tram from two sliding doors, the crew offering them hearty farewells.
Outside they were greeted by a hubbub of sound and sights. People dressed in fine vibrant tabards and dresses much like her own conversed with smiles on their faces, luggage carried by servants that stood beside them. Alabaster gray pillars with ornate blue embellishments brought a sense of calm to the area. There was not a lick of filth in sight, which she had expected. After all, the mining cities were notoriously dirty and wild in that regard. She remembered tales and rumors that those living in the mining cities frequently practiced vile acts such as cannibalism, worship of the dead gods, and worse yet. But this was nothing like those stories. This was lavish and lively, comfortable and kempt.
"I have the ticket! Look!" She heard a male voice shout to her left. Looking over her shoulder, she watched a portly man waving a ticket in front of two station guards. "My name is Jacob Mylon! Just read the damned ticket!"
"Madame Arcwood?" Camilla snapped her gaze back. "Mhm? Oh, I'm sorry. This is my first time in Skor, so I'm just taking in the scenery."
"Forgive me!" Lilin bowed her head. "I had no intention of disturbing you." Her hair fell over her head and dangled unceremoniously.
Camilla chuckled humorously. "Oh do not place such weight on such a slight. Why don't you take me where we're supposed to go. I think I've had enough of this tram station, and I want to see this city in true form."
"Yes Madame, please follow me."
They walked through the tram station which was breathtaking all throughout. The deeper they went, the more people she saw too. Not all were as lavishly dressed. Some even wore slightly dirty clothes, but that was hardly limited to the mining cities. After a few minutes of walking, Camilla spotted the person that Lilin was leading them towards. He wore a long dark blue coat with gold lining on the rims, and a fine doublet the same color underneath. His hair was combed back and he bore an easy and practiced smile. He was sharing a laugh with a man and woman in equally fine dressing when he spotted them approaching. Seemingly excusing himself from the conversation, he walked towards Camilla and Lilin.
"Good afternoon and welcome to Skor, Madame Arcwood. My name is-"
"Master Lemont. Don't worry, I know my noblemen." She smiled warmly.
"Why, you flatter me," Lemont raised a hand to his chest and bowed his head lightly. "And this must be your lovely servant. What a great pleasure it is to meet you too."
Lilin appeared to blush, but she said nothing.
"You need not be shy, Lilin." Camilla said softly.
"True that," Lemont said in kind. "Fret not, you shan't fear judgment merely for responding."
"I'm Lilin Syvon, caretaker of her lady Arcwood." She bowed her head slightly. "It's my greatest pleasure to make your acquaintance, Master Lemont."
Lemont smiled warmly. "I can see why Madame Arcwood chose you as her stewardess. Your manner and grace is without match in comparison to those you'll find in this city."
Lilin visibly blushed. "You're too kind, Master Lemont."
Camilla watched Lemont's smile. There was an ease to which he behaved, a rehearsed elegance. But it was just that, a rehearsal. Just as the Camilla they knew her for was an act, the gentlemanly Lemont was just the same, if not more egregious. She made a mental note to keep tabs on Lilin's interactions with the man in the future. "Now that introductions are done, I think I would like to settle into a real room." Camilla said before any more pleasantries could be exchanged.
Lemont nodded. "True and fair, follow me, there's a carriage waiting for us in the streets, it will take us to your new abode."
Camilla watched more of the city come into view as they walked down the carved marble stairs. Tall alabaster towers with striking blue shingles reflected the light and made the windows shine all the brighter for it. As Lemont had said, an embellished carriage awaited them by the bottom of the tram station on the side of the curb.
"Let me take care of that." Camilla allowed Lemont to take her case from her and mount it at the back of the carriage, then he lowered the steps to allow them entry to the carriage.
"After you, Madame."
Camilla smiled and nodded. Entering the carriage followed by Lilin, and then Lemont. Lemont closed the door then banged lightly on the roof. "We're ready!"
"How long until we've arrived at our destination?" Camilla asked.
"Oh it should only be about twenty minutes. Don't worry, I've plenty to tell you about the city and our culture, so hopefully you won't go bored."
Camilla nodded. "That should do just nicely, thank you."
As the wheels of the carriage started spinning towards their first destination in the city, so did Camilla's mission.