“So you’re the young wizard that Mister Theodosius told me about,” an old woman – Miss Faye – mused.
Florian nearly tripped over his feet as he was led into the office. “Theo told you about me? How?”
Miss Faye smiled, her bright expression giving away nothing. “I’m sure you understand that magic would be a personal interest to anyone who learned of its existence, young man. Don’t you agree?”
Hesitantly, Florian nodded. That said, her answer was nothing more than a misdirect, and he knew it. It wasn’t like he could ask her to elaborate, though. “I suppose…”
Miss Faye bounced her fingers against the chair she sat at, leaning forward to take a better look at him. Her white hair created a stark contrast between her chocolate skin, and though her voice sounded frail, the sharpness in her eyes indicated that she was a woman who was well aware of everything in the room. It was an awareness that most people lacked and a kind of awareness that Jones had none of. If there was anything he’d learned while interacting with the many business people that had been invited to lecture at his university, it was that Miss Faye was clever and a dangerous person to enter into negotiations with.
And it seemed that it was Miss Faye’s intention to do exactly that. “I’ll spare your time, Mister Cale. I know you’re contracted to assist your master in teaching his other students, but I’d like to offer you a deal.”
Florian narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think you can offer me anything better than what my master is offering me.”
Miss Faye seemed hardly impacted by the statement, her smile almost like a permanent fixture on her serene face. “I’m aware that you’re hoping for a chance to heal your leg, young man. I can speed the process along.”
His heart started beating for real, his apprehension replaced by excitement. “How?”
“We are traders, scavengers, and travelers. Tonbridge for years has collected numerous items from before Worldbreak, and we have medical supplies that are unrivaled by any of the other nearby settlements.” She paused, letting that sink in. “We have advanced prosthetics that are far better than your current solution.”
The excitement he held crashed and burned. Theo, for all the danger and treachery that the arrogant wizard embodied, promised him his actual leg back, not an aluminum replica. “I don’t think you understand, Miss Faye. He promised to regrow my leg.”
Miss Faye’s smile slipped for but a moment, but she recovered swiftly and leaned back in her plump office chair. “Of course, I bring the prosthetic up merely to assure you that you would regain much of your old mobility. While we cannot offer magical healing, I am sure that you would be interested in everything else we have to offer.”
Florian didn’t respond, sitting in his un-cushioned chair as unmoved as a mountain. This had proved to be, so far, a giant waste of his time. He had no reason to believe that would change.
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“We are perhaps the largest association of traders in this part of England. Maybe the only group of traders in this part of England,” she noted.
“With a few dozen people?”
The CEO of whatever operation they had here in Tonbridge laughed at that. “Did you think we were all present here when you arrived? All of our caravans are outside Tonbridge at any given point except to stop and restock on wares, and only a few remain here to help with logistical matters.”
Now that was surprising. Tonbridge had proved unimpressive so far, despite their vast cache of old weaponry. It represented a lot of force, but the bullets would run out eventually. People could always make more spears and swords, and if they were wounded, they would eventually stand back up again. Leeds, in his estimation, had represented a far more secure place to be. But if Tonbridge had even a hundred or two hundred people? Maybe that was different.
Faye continued. “We not only have quite the collection of items that make living here far more comfortable than anywhere else in the world, but also a vast amount of information. I’ve been told that you’re looking for information about your family, Mr. Cale?”
Florian stood up immediately, planting his hands on the desk in front of him and glaring at the old woman. “How did you know that?”
Miss Faye was completely unconcerned about his anger. “I told you, Mr. Cale, we deal in information as much as we deal in physical goods. These days, everyone is looking for someone. We’ve all lost so much, and we’d all do almost anything to get back home to our loved ones.”
She paused there, breaking eye contact with him for the first time. It was a brief moment, but Florian thought he could feel the woman’s sorrow even through his receding indignation.
“You understand that I dislike personal information being weaponized against me?” Florian breathed, plopping back onto his chair. “If you know as much as you claim, you’ll know that I’m an American. I sincerely doubt you can help me find jack shit, so don’t try using that as a carrot.”
“But what if I told you-“ she started to say before the door to her office was thrown open by a man who dripped sweat as if he had stood outside in a rainstorm.
Wheezing, the man gathered himself before the leader of Tonbridge. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We’ve just received word from Dover. They’re under attack, and their messenger says that it’s hopeless if we don’t send help.”
Miss Faye’s smile finally fell. Grimacing, she ran her fingers through her curly hair as she considered the information. “Who do we have in house right now?”
“Tom and his team.”
“No one else?”
The man shook his head. “No one’s scheduled to be back for a couple days, ma’am.”
“We can’t lose access to the sea. Can you see if Tom and his people can set out in the next fifteen minutes?” Miss Faye asked, her voice determined, even if beads of sweat formed on her forehead.
Hesitating, the man responded, “I’m not sure if they can, ma’am. They’re pretty shaken from the trip here, and their trucks need to be looked at before we can send them back out.”
At that, Florian stood. He didn’t have very many fond memories of Dover, but it had been his home for three years. People like George had given him a place to stay even when he would have been cast aside. Even when he had been cast aside, George had risked everything to give him a chance at living.
The old man, thin with age, had been a blacksmith unlike Florian had ever met before or since. His skill was only matched by his kindness, and Florian remembered fondly his first few lessons with the old man. Even as the world had gone to shit, even as he worried about his family each and every single night, the old man had kept him constantly busy. There had never been a moment where a piece of metal was not in his hands, his mind occupied with thoughts of smithing.
Oh, those initial pieces were terrible, even for an amateur. But George had let him make whatever he pleased, and it was exactly that outlet that had let him make it through those first few months. He owed everything to George. Hearing that George was in danger… it settled a sense of uncertainty he’d been holding onto for such a long time.
“I’ll go.”