For the last leg of the trip to Voset we were forced to use the roads, despite the danger they presented. It wasn't an option any of us cared for, especially in light of the reality that I had a bounty on my head. But still, given the environment it was the only reasonable option.

Voset was located close to the Mountain Home, the 'everlasting fortress of dwarven prosperity.' The capital, basically. As the name would suggest, the Mountain Home was the last of the dwarven undercities, and one of the only cities that never fell during The Summoning. It was also built under the largest mountain within Waldian territory.

One would think that Voset, being on a gradual upward slope to the mountain, would be more forest or maybe a chillier climate. This wasn't the case, Voset was located smack dab in the middle of a temperate and humid jungle.

The main reason we had decided to stay at the inn at all was because sleeping among the gargantuan trees and volatile jungle wildlife had grown unbearable. These trees made sequoia trees look like toothpicks. They were hundreds of meters tall and had diameters larger than houses. Traveling over their roots took more than three times as long as wandering through a regular forest.

Nakset was one of several outlier cities around Voset. Due to Voset being at the heart of the jungle, it was near impossible to expand the outskirts of the city, thus the need for outlier cities. As a result, dawn was breaking and we were already less than a league from Voset.

"Why is it so freaking hot…" Orelio says, panting and dragging his feet. "It's supposed to be winter soon…"

"Voset's climate is a little special. I've heard the best guess of the weather experts is that it has something to do with the mana of the forest, some special property it has, or something. It tends to stay hot and humid all year round." Annora explains.

"Oh it's got some special property all right," Albatos grumbles, "I can see it affecting the mana more as we get closer to the city."

"You can see it?" Annora says with a note of surprise, "I can't sense it at all."

"I've been reinforcing my eyes to see mana constantly for the past several years. I guess you could say it's like the ambient mana has some red overtone, subtle but there nonetheless."

I try enhancing my eyes to see it too but can't notice anything, "I don't see it."

"Neither do I," Annora says.

"You people rely on your base senses too much. How do you expect to see a magical trap before it's sprung, or anticipate what an opponent will do?"

"You say that like it's easy to keep that up," I say. Reinforcement is something that takes focus. I had once tried to keep up that kind of perpetual reinforcement on the three month journey, but found it impossible to keep it going ambiently for more than an hour. It's simply too easy to get distracted and let it slip. Day to day use is completely different than using it for an extended time in life or death situations. When you toe the line your mind tends to filter out the unnecessary.

"What was that phrase Arim was fond of, Stein? 'Discipline hones all,' I believe it was?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Clearly something you could have used more of."

"We tended to focus more on discipline of the body. Magic ain't worth shit in an Area, but the body will never fail you." Arim's teachings had sunk in, I realize as the words leave my mouth.

"Hmm… perhaps. Still, I find your magical capabilities to be severely lacking. I think we'll spend our time here attempting to improve them."

"Great." Just what I wanted, one on one sessions with the guy who spent three months treating me like shit.

"That's great and all… but how far off is the city…" Orelio seems to be struggling to even keep up at this point.

"Why don't you just cool yourself off? You do know magic, right?" It occurs to me I've never actually seen Orelio use magic, he just uses his projection.

Orelio stops. I look back at him only to see an amazed expression on his face, "Stein, you're a genius!" He says.

"Ugh, I'm traveling with… never mind. I think our beastkin needs some tutoring too, though I doubt any amount of reinforcement will help when the base is so low." Albatos sighs, "I suppose if we're making it a group session then you might as well join too, Morvin."

"Mmm," Is the only response the dwarf gives.

"Nobody else needs tutoring, do they? Bodelin can you use a domain? I don't think I've ever seen you use one."

"Mmm," Is the only response the dwarf gives.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"What a talkative race…" After three months of suffering his abuse, it brings more joy than I'd ever admit to see Albatos so miserable.

"Still, hopefully we'll find some dwarven doctor who has some idea what's wrong with Morvin." I say. Albatos nods while none of the dwarves say anything.

"We're almost there, how about we keep the chatter low so we don't draw attention?" Annora admonishes us. Looking ahead I can see the gate of the city in sight.

***

We pass through the checkpoint without any major issues. The immense vegetation had blocked a proper view of the city from the outside, only allowing the scope of Voset to be viewed from within.

Voset is formed by a perfect circular wall as far as I can tell, and it's by far the most advanced settlement I've seen during my time in this world. The city seems to sag downwards the further towards the center. In the heart is a series of huge buildings, government offices one could assume.

In the distance I see something I hadn't thought existed in this world, a train. It seems to be a communal train, going in a circle around the city picking up residents and depositing them elsewhere.

"Why does the city get lower near the center?" I ask as we walk.

"You'll see," is the only response Annora gives.

Soon we descend a set of stairs, heading toward the heart of the city. As we proceed I glance off to the side and see a cavity underneath the floor we just descended from. Beneath the floorboards we just walked on is an entire other level to the city, filled with houses and workshops.

"Oh wow," I say, "Is it like that all the way down? Even the floor we stand on now has stuff beneath it?"

"Yep. I believe there are 15 levels total, with seven upper and eight lower. The seven upper levels all connect somehow to the open air, while the eight lower get little or no light."

"You seem pretty knowledgeable Annora, have you been here before?"

"Yes. It is a city that has… memories for me." Her face darkens.

I sense we're approaching a dangerous topic so I choose not to say anything to that. "So where are we headed to?" I ask instead.

Annora simply points toward the center of the city.

Ah, I suppose it was mentioned you had connections with the Waldian nobility. I guess we'll find out how deep that connection goes.

Bodelee is looking around at the shops we pass like a kid in a candy shop.

"See something you like?" I ask with a smile on my face.

"Hah! I guess ya could say that. Voset is known as the smithing capital of the kingdom, which basically means it's also the smithing capital of the world. You best believe I ain't gonna miss out on my chance to learn everything I can while we're here."

"I thought you were already a master. I've heard that armor isn't something an ordinary smith can cook up." I gesture to the abnormally large packs all three of the dwarves are lugging around, each filled with pieces of that glorious armor.

"My armoring skills may be a bit above the rest, but I haven't had time to polish weapon crafting. I can whip up basic stuff like that sword ya got there, but beyond that ain't really my specialty. There's some tricks I'd like to pick up here, engraving and enchanting being the big ones."

"You don't know enchanting?"

He snorts, "Finding a teacher for making enchanted shit is about as hard as actually finding the oricite to work with. Trying to learn anywhere else is basically a fool's errand."

I guess it makes sense that the biggest producer of oricite on the continent is also going to attract the biggest population of skilled smiths.

Still, I don't get the feeling he'll be able to find anybody willing to teach him while business is booming like it is.

The rumor we heard about the influx of adventurers seems to have been understated. The shops focused on weapons and equipment are crowded beyond belief. Hell, it seems like half the people we pass on the street are adventurer types.

As I'm surveying the street I notice a bit of a disturbance up ahead. Though disturbance may be the wrong word, as there's a notable lack of activity instead of an abundance of it.

We draw closer, and as we pass it by I see in front of us a short, childlike figure walking through the street without a care in the world. His features are somewhat alien, close to that of an elf but not quite. His most noteworthy feature is the jet black hair that seems to absorb all light, not even leaving enough glisten off its strands.

That's… a tink, isn't it?

We had seen a few of them in our travels, but I wasn't entirely sure. Still, I can't bring myself to voice the question. The silent atmosphere is simply too oppressive. It's as though the mere presence of this harmless looking figure was enough to kill the atmosphere. The crowd before the tink even parts, letting him stroll carelessly through, unobstructed.

It's then I remember a fragment of a conversation I had listened in on.

A tink’s hair color will change depending on their feelings, and since tink’s are generally inclined to be kind and happy their hair is usually something like green or blue. The only colors you must be very careful with when dealing with tinks is black or red. If it's red that means they hold hatred deep within their heart and are willing to kill. If it's black it means a tink is almost at the end of their life, and they can be extremely unpredictable when in that state.

Which meant this tink was nearing the end of its life. That could almost explain the atmosphere, but there's something more. As I think of the implications of that hair color it strikes me.

The tink is smiling. He's strolling along the street smiling as though he hasn't got a care in the world. He browses the silent shops as he passes by, stopping to check out items and objects that interest him, sometimes asking the nervous shop owners innocent questions.

My first thought is that he's acting as someone with a terminal illness might, making the most of their final months. But as we pass him by our eyes lock, and he gives me a wolfish grin that sends a chill down my spine. Within his gaze is a hunger, one I can't identify.

The encounter ends even more abruptly than it started, with the tink breaking eye contact after a mere moment, then skipping happily down the street.

Nobody says anything as we continue toward the center, none of us willing to touch on the topic. Even Bodelee has stopped looking through the various shops.

Let's just hope that wasn't a bad omen.