“Shouldn’t we be walking that way?” Eliza asked, pointing in the opposite direction from which Gilgamesh was leading them, “I’m certain he said the bazaar was that way.”

“I don’t think so,” Dellen said, “Humour me, and if this doesn’t work, we’ll retrace our steps.”

“I really think it’s this way,” Eliza said pleasantly but firmly.

Dellen ran through his options, he absolutely had more faith in Gilgamesh than in Atticus, if Gilgamesh had been able to navigate the shifting map of Copperopolis, he could navigate Evergale, but Eliza was probably accurately following the directions they had all been given. “Would you like to make this interesting?”

Eliza raised an eyebrow, “Interesting how?”

“If you’re right, I owe you and Finnegan lunch, and five sovereigns, if you’re right, you owe Finnegan and I lunch.”

“You should take the bet,” Finnegan said.

Eliza rolled her eyes at Finnegan and laughed, “Lord Northcote, you are a gambler and a scoundrel.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Lead the way,” Eliza said, still laughing.

“This way,” Gilgamesh said.

The group strolled along the bustling streets of Evergale, following the circular ring the Phoenix’s Flight had landed on. The curve of the ring had been obvious when they flew in, but the city was so large that walking on the ground, the curve was difficult to see.

They passed by a myriad of shops and establishments, their facades showcasing a blend of architectural styles. Clockwork sculptures adorned the storefronts, their gears, and delicate movements mesmerizing Finnegan, who Eliza had to drag away. The streets themselves were a blend of cobblestones and the occasional metal grates, beneath which you could see the underpinnings of the ring.

The buildings that lined the streets varied in height and design. Some structures soared skyward, reaching higher than the ground level of the next ring up the mountain, while most others nestled comfortably at street level.

Perhaps a minute later, the sound of laughter and animated conversations filled their ears as they approached a lively bazaar.

“We don’t know this is Aiman’s Bazaar,” Eliza said, looking slightly irritated.

“That’s true,” Dellen said.

“This is Aiman’s Bazaar,” Gilgamesh said, sounding pleased with himself.

“I’m sure this is just another bazaar,” Eliza continued.

“Either way, one of you owes me lunch,” Finnegan said, rubbing his hands while making a show of moving his nose through the air and taking full deep breaths.

Dellen's eyes twinkled with anticipation as he caught sight of the vibrant stalls brimming with an assortment of captivating goods. Amongst the dazzling display, his gaze settled upon a vendor showcasing a collection of meticulously crafted pocket watches. The gleaming brass and delicate engravings called out to him.

Approaching the stall, Dellen's fingers gently traced the contours of a particular watch that had caught his eye. Its intricate mechanism hummed softly beneath his touch. With a faint smile playing on his lips, he raised the watch and directed his question to the vendor.

"How much are you asking for this?" Dellen inquired

The vendor, an elderly man with a weathered face covered in steelskin, examined the watch that Dellen held in his hand. He leaned in closer, inspecting the details. After a moment of thoughtful consideration, he met Dellen's gaze.

"A fine choice," the vendor remarked, his voice carrying a hint of appreciation. "This particular timepiece is a true marvel, crafted with precision and care. For such exquisite workmanship, I would ask twenty-five sovereigns.”

Dellen exchanged a brief glance with Finnegan and Eliza, their eyes reflecting a shared understanding. Dellen maintained a composed demeanor as he spoke to the vendor. "I appreciate the craftsmanship of your watches," he began, his tone polite yet businesslike. "However, we happen to have a few watches of our own that we acquired recently. They are in excellent condition and of similar quality. We were wondering if you might be interested in purchasing them from us."

The vendor's eyes flickered with curiosity, his interest piqued by the prospect. He gestured for Dellen to show him the other pocket watches.

“We only have three with us,” Dellen said, producing his own. Eliza and Finnegan produced theirs as well.

The vendor's gaze shifted from one watch to another, assessing their worth.

After a moment of thoughtful consideration, the vendor said, “I would be willing to purchase these watches from you for a total of fifty sovereigns.”

Dellen exchanged quick glances with Eliza and Finnegan, taking their slight shrugs as acquiescence. “Agreed," he said with a nod. "It's a pleasure doing business with you."

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

The merchant counted out fifty coins and handed them to Dellen. The coins were heavy in his hands. Each side bore an unfamiliar stamp.

“These aren’t sovereigns,” Finnegan said, looking a coin over.

“Coins are going to vary between cities,” Dellen said, unconcerned.

“What’s the name of this market?” Eliza asked the vendor.

“Aiman’s Bazaar,” he replied.

Eliza released a few colorful words before thanking him.

“Lunch?” Dellen asked her with a twinkle in his eyes.

She looked at the coins in her hands, “This is, soberingly, more money than I would have made after a year at the Chronicle.”

“I’ll still buy you lunch, I had an unfair advantage, I knew the market was this way.”

“What are you doing?” Gilgamesh asked, sounding curious.

“What? How?” Eliza sounded surprised and confused.

“Food first,” Dellen said.

“This way,” Gilgamesh said.

He led them through the bazaar's labyrinthine paths. They passed a stall adorned with shimmering gemstones alongside rings and necklaces. Alongside the jewelry, unique curiosities captured attention. Ornamental trinkets powered by tiny mechanisms spun and whirred. Tiny automatons, resembling metallic creatures of whimsy, danced upon delicate pedestals.

Exotic spices filled the air, their intoxicating aromas mingling with the sweet scent of freshly baked bread. The scents called to Dellen, and to his rumbling stomach, he felt like it had been a very long time since he had eaten anything truly appetizing.

They turned a corner, and Dellen felt a wave of relief, even as his stomach growled again. Narrow aisles were lined with bustling stalls, their vibrant canopies casting colorful shadows upon the ground. Each booth offered a unique culinary experience.

One particular stall caught his attention. The aroma of freshly baked pastries wafted through the air, drawing him closer. The enticing display showcased an array of flaky pastries, decadent cakes, and an assortment of artisan breads with golden crusts.

The bakers behind the counter greeted them with warm smiles and friendly hellos.

Eyes wide with anticipation, the Dellen made his choices, selecting a variety of savoury pastries and bread to satisfy his hunger. He tore into the first pastry and enjoyed the taste of food made as a celebration of taste rather than the bowls of gruel at the order that had been more of a culinary punishment.

The second and third pastry vanished almost as quickly, with Dellen barely giving himself time to inhale. He let out a satisfied smile.

“I was worried you might eat a few of your fingers by accident,” Gilgamesh said.

“I’ve never seen you eat so rapidly,” Eliza said, taking a sedate bite from her pastry, looking at him with an expression that stopped just short of concern.

“Forging can make you hungry,” Dellen said.

Finnegan nodded, not taking a break from his own meal.

“You said you’d give me answers after you ate,” Eliza said, “Now you’ve eaten.”

Dellen glanced up at Gilgamesh, and then around the market to see if anyone was paying attention to them. Finnegan had wandered to another stall, looking for another course to add to his meal. “Now I’ve eaten,” he agreed. “I don’t have access to just one type of Aether.”

Eliza wrinkled her forehead, “I don’t see how that’s possible, or if true, how it’s an answer.”

“What are you most curious about?” Dellen asked her.

“How did you know where the market was, and how are you so talented with Aether? I did my research on you. You really only forged yourself recently. You should be a novice at best.”

“I have a guide that very few people can see,” Dellen said, pointing at Gilgamesh.

Eliza looked at, to them, empty air, where Dellen could see Gilgamesh. “I think it’s more likely you’ve visited the city before.”

“If I’d visited Evergale before, I would have found the Aetherweave Institute and been brought up to First Trinity.”

“That’s… a surprisingly good point,” Eliza said, “But still, you can’t have an invisible companion, that doesn’t make sense, I’ve read all sorts of stories about Aether and I’ve never heard about invisibility.”

“I’m sure someone with sufficient talent with Umbral Aether could manage something similar to invisibility,” Dellen said.

“What kind of Aether?” Eliza asked, her words coming a little faster, and her eyebrows drawing together, “Did you say Umbral? As in Shadow Aether?”

“That can be nasty stuff,” Gilgamesh noted mildly.

“Yes, it can,” Dellen agreed.

“You’re talking directly to me when there are other people around! This feels exciting and dangerous all at once.”

“Yes, what can?” Eliza asked.

“Gilgamesh, my companion, was saying that Umbral Aether can be nasty stuff. He’s right of course, but really, Electrical Aether, Kinematic Aether, and Pyro Aether can all be nasty stuff. Lightning bolts, fire, and raw force can all be destructive if used malevolently.”

“Ahhh,” Eliza began in a delicate tone, “Let’s return to this idea of a companion, who can apparently talk on top of being invisible, you have to understand why I might find that… Concerning.”

“Of course,” Dellen said, “But you had another question, how is it possible that I’m so talented with Aether? Even Isabella said that I was unusually skilled at manipulating Electrical Aether. Do you think that’s a sign of mental instability?”

Eliza frowned and took another bite of her food, chewing it thoughtfully.

“No, that’s not a sign of mental instability,” Eliza said.

“The second kind of Aether that I have an affinity for is Chronometric Aether.” Dellen felt uncomfortable staying it aloud but felt like in the chaos of the bazaar, it was unlikely that anyone was listening.

Eliza paused mid-chew.

“You’re just telling all of our secrets now, aren’t you?” Gilgamesh said.

“Chronometric Aether,” Eliza said, around a mouthful of bread, “As in time Aether?”

“Yes,” Dellen nodded, “Time Aether.”

“What does Chronometric Aether do? What can you do with Chronometric Aether?” Eliza asked.

“I can’t seem to do anything with it, I keep re-living the same days over and over again. From your point of view, I might have only just forged myself… but from my point of view? I have spent a lot of time practicing with Aether.”

“Not telling her everything then,” Gilgamesh said, “Good, I approve of that.”

“Let’s say I believe you,” Eliza said, “Not that I do, but as a thought experiment, how many times have you lived this day?”

“Twice,” Dellen said.

Eliza's eyes widened, and a flicker of surprise danced across her face, evident in her slightly raised eyebrows and parted lips, “I was expecting you to say something like tens or hundreds of times.”

Dellen shrugged, “Only twice, but in my defense that is still more than the normal number of times.”

Eliza put up a hand, ceding the point, “Why are you telling us this?”

“I know what happened to everyone else in the fleet, and I know where they are,” he hesitated, “Well, not everyone, I was taken prisoner along with everyone else, but I think I know where all of the survivors are.” Dellen proceeded to explain the events that led to his being captured and sold in Ravenport.

“That’s why you want to go to Ravenport,” Eliza said.

“Yes.”

“I’m still not sure that I believe you.”

“What do I stand to gain by lying?”

Eliza looked at him, he could see questions born and die on her lips before she finally said, “Let’s see what Miss Thornbrook suggests.”

“That’s fine,” Dellen said, locking eyes with Eliza, “Just don’t tell her, or anyone, about the Chronometric Aether.”