Alden strode out from Quil’s walls, Bob clucking happily on his shoulder. A wide smile rested on his face as he strode towards his destination, dirt road falling behind him. The now-informants he had enlisted would do an excellent job of collecting what information he needed. He was paying them rather generously, after all. He bounced slightly as he walked, ideas filling his mind about the future. The world around him faded and blurred, his feet carrying him ever forwards.
The journey from Quil to Azal was even more boring than from Ol’Finch to Quil. Traffic was much higher on the road for one, leading to frequent slod-downs. The merchant caravans and horses rarely bothered Alden directly however, and so he in turn didn’t bother them. The local bandits knew better than to try and strike at the caravans. If they managed to actually pierce the roving patrols and independent merchant guards, take any sizable number of resources, and flee successfully they would be hunted down relentlessly. This trade route was a vital source of money and resources, the beating life of both cities’ economies. Any attempt to disturb that heartbeat would be met by a swift and overwhelming force from both city-states’ militaries. More than that however, the bandits knew what Great Powers ruled these cities and wanted none of it.
Time passed and before long Alden had reached the sky-winch. The sky-winch was a massive contraption of ropes, pulleys, and platforms stuck into the side of the mountain like a grafted limb. Alden didn’t have to wait long before the efficient bureaucracy- at least in this aspect of the city- loaded him onto a platform up. The pulley system slowly lifted him and a rather large group of compatriots further into the air, moving them ever closer to the gates. He could see a staircase carved into the mountain- although he pitied any poor soul that had to scale it. As they were lifted level to the fortress city, birds seemed to sing, and the constant winds stilled at its magnificence. The city of Azal stood proud, its flag blazing with an internal light.
Built half-way up the mountain, sheer cliffs on all sides protected it from any would-be attacker. The city was renowned for its defenses, having held against the roving Mori’arti’shol bands for centuries. Its walls had not buckled, its defenders had not fled. The city was seen as a symbol of defiance against the Great Empires and Kingdoms that held themselves tall around the Skypiercer mountain range. Alden smiled at the guard as he approached the gatehouse, the mailed man waving him down. He was quickly let in, a small bit of copper making the paperwork much easier.
As he entered the city proper a wall of noise almost sent him staggering. But he put one foot in front of the other, the noise slowly fading to a background roar. A cloth covered his nose, shielding him from the pungent aroma that wafted all around him. He blamed the lack of a proper sewage system. In front of him a large cobble road led towards an open market, wooden stalls filled with hawkers selling their wares. Alden ignored any such invitations as he pushed through the dense crowd. Buildings of wood and stone surrounded him on all sides, pressing down on him like a physical weight. Slowly he traversed the mob, slipping through small gaps and pauses in the foot traffic. Eventually he managed to slip away from the main marketplace, a sigh escaping him and shoulders slumping slightly.
For a second, he just leaned against a wall- before rolling his shoulders and standing up straight. He strode towards a small, decrepit wooden building. It was squashed between two massive buildings of stone, trash and garbage stacked up all around it. A wonky wooden sign hung over the entrance, depicting a single light burning brightly in the infinite darkness. Alden shuffled sideways and forward as best he could, holding his nose as he tried to avoid piles of trash. Finally he came to the front, shoving his shoulder into the doorway and pushing with his legs. The door creaked open, the interior of the store painting a sharp contrast with the outside. Pristine wooden shelves decorated the walls while small counters with glass fronts rand the width of the shop. At the back a small boy was flipping through a book, a pair of reading glasses hanging loose on his nose. He glanced up at the door opening, eyes widening as he took in Alden’s form. “Alden!” The boy leapt over the counter before sprinting towards Alden. Alden squatted down and let the boy smash into him. He rocked back slightly, chuckling at the impact. “Hello little Alchemist. Did you miss me?”
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“Of course! Where have you been?! You have to tell me everything!” Alden chuckled again as he slowly stood up. “I will, I will. I just need to speak to your father for a moment. Is he here?” The boy nodded, eyes darting towards the back. “He is, but he said no one should disturb him. Something about world-ending science.” Alden widened his eyes in exaggerated amazement. “Well in that case I better make sure that he doesn’t end the world.” Shooting a wink at the little boy, who giggled, Alden moved towards the back of the shop. There he pushed through a cramped doorway, into the even more cramped backroom. A long room stretched before him, rows upon rows of ingredients and books filling the space. He passed through a small corridor of such ingredients and books, filled with both the exotic and mundane, before the shelving fell away. It revealed a massive workstation, at least a dozen tables spread out around one massive, central worktable. At it a man sat hunched over, monocle over one eye and small teasers in one hand. He was working on something small, making tiny adjustments near constantly. Alden just crossed his legs and sat, tilting his head curiously at the project.
It was over 30 minutes before the man put down his tools and stood up to stretch. He turned- and froze as his eyes landed on Alden. He frowned. “How long have you been waiting there?” Alden stood, a smile on his face. “Long enough. Working on something about clocks I take it?” The man just grunted as he began to move past Alden. Alden followed behind, trailing a foot or so behind him. “What has brought you here? Why have you chosen to curse my shop with your presence out of all places?” They moved towards a small office, taking a right at a small offshoot in the endless books and reagents. Alden took a moment to respond, idly glancing around. “I need information.” A snort erupted from the man as he opened up a rich oak door and entered a room. Alden followed, entering as his guide flopped onto his butt behind a solid desk. “Of course you do. Very well then, what knowledge do you seek?” Alden sat down in front of the desk, pulling out a sheet of paper as he did so. “I need to know about all of these things. Books preferably although I could make tablets or songs work.”
The man took the list with a grunt and stared at it. He froze as he was partway down the list before continuing, although much more intently than before. Slowly he looked up, eyes narrowed and restless. “Why would you need to know about Tunk’lan? Or how to construct an artificial affinity?” Alden just waved his hand. “Because I’m going to visit of course. Besides, I had a few ideas for expanding my magical repertoire. You’ll notice that I also asked for books on mana techniques and casting, and some history books. The man put down his monocle, staring Alden straight in the eyes. “Yes. And by ‘some history books’ you mean things such as Davragam’s Census and the work of Archibald the Greater.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “But that’s not even the worst thing you ask for. You asked for an uncensored version of the Tha- I’m not even going to say the name. Do you know what that thing is? Who would come after you-me- if they knew it was here? You know what, I don’t want to know. Take it and leave.” The man gestured and a book flew from one of the shelves coming to rest before Alden.
Alden picked it up gently, the weight resting in his hands. With a flick of his wrists, it disappeared. More books came flying down, Alden carefully stacking them before picking them up. They disappeared from his hands, as if they had never existed. The man leaned back in his chair, form slumping. Alden stood up and began to head toward the exit- before pausing and looking back. “My oath still stands Master of Clockworks.” The craft Master just gave him a look, leaning against the backrest of the chair. “I am well aware Devosh. It is the reason I do as you ask. Now leave and give Michael that story you promised him.” Alden inclined his head before exiting the office. There were things to do and not enough time to do them. And he owed a dramatic story of fierce bandits and actions as well.