After a few stints with figuring out where in this massive sprawl of a city where the inn was, they finally found solace in a busy street a few blocks from the giant clock the denizens called the Tower. The road was chock-full of people; loyal customers greeting their favorite storeowners, traveling merchants peddling their wares and the hustling during trade.
The overall look of the buildings around this area was stylishly rustic. The wooden walls were slightly glossy, with large, decorated windows. There were restaurants of varying sizes, and these windows allowed the smell of their menu to drift to Kirke’s nose.
He felt excited but wanted to save the satisfaction for later. For now, he needed lodgings.
The inn they found was huge. It’s exteriors were coated with a smooth, white finish. Looking up, he could see people on top of what seemed to be a roof deck. With that in mind, he finally noticed that most buildings and houses had similar roofs. He wondered how they dealt with the rain, but magic could easily solve that in a lot of ways so he left the thought on its own.
Entering, its large size was tantamount to the amount of guests it served. The walls were a dark, ornate yellow, while the lighting was a soft, diffused light coming from a single magical chandelier on its ceiling. There were paintings and sculptures placed neatly about the room, and a lounge that faced the reception desk. Conversation was everywhere, but the reception desk was currently serving only one customer.
From the looks of things, Kirke could tell this was an expensive restaurant. That was one thing Kirke liked about Ambrosia; the prices of goods were cheap - but the ambrosians were aware enough to know if something was beyond normal means.
“Looking for rooms, sir?” the receptionist was a tall, pale woman with a small face. She smiled politely as she welcomed them, but there was a subtle look of confusion in her eyes. She kept glancing towards their clothes, but it felt as if she was looking for something else. Earlier, he also had a similar experience with most people - it wasn’t surprising that when Vincent and Reese arrived, the people were also as alert and confused.
The exact reason why though, Kirke would have to figure out.
“How much is a room for three?” Kirke smiled brightly, placing a hand on the desk.
“We have rooms that have up to three single beds, or two double beds available,” the receptionist answered promptly; a true professional, Kirke thought. “Breakfast and dinner is free. We price per person, and its fifty silver each per day,” she explained. Kirke glanced behind him to look at Vincent. Reese simply stood and took a glance around, feeling the foreign scenery.
“About the price of a single meal,” Vincent revealed, looking pleased. Kirke nodded in satisfaction. Maybe this place wasn’t cheap after all.
“We’ll book a single room with three beds for a month,” Kirke decided.
“Alright, we’ll be needing a downpayment of half the price,” the receptionist said. Kirke nodded and looked back to Vincent. His legion simply stared back, nonplussed. A questioning gaze replaced Kirke’s glee and was soon met with a realization.
“You don’t have the money?”
“Master, I was trying to tell you but you kept saying we had to find an inn first,” Vincent explained.
Oh. “Right, I did say that,” Kirke turned around to face the receptionist. “How about I give the downpayment at the end of the month?” He jokingly said as he ruffled his hair. The receptionist chuckled. “You see,” he gestured towards Reese and Vincent. “These two aren’t exactly from around here; fortunately, I’m here to guide them,” Kirke said with pride. Reese was clutching her stomach in laughter, while Vincent had a resigned expression.
“Unfortunately, I’m not from around here either,” he said solemnly. “But I think we can earn our keep - we just want rooms, and we’ll get right to work,” he said. Actually, Kirke and his party didn’t need rooms immediately. But they were here already, so why not try anyway?
“That isn’t allowed,” a relaxed, gruff voice from behind Kirke replied in place of the receptionist. The receptionist bowed slightly in respect. Turning around, a man with a goatee smiled amicably at him and his party. He had a round face but he had a bony cheek. At around Kirke’s height, the man was a bit chubby but was tall enough to offset it. He wore a set of brown suit and pants. A typical businessman, but the power emanating invisibly from his body was enough to clue Kirke in.
This man was a powerful man. Maybe only two levels weaker than his legion. Not that there were ranks of the sort in ambrosia, but not just anyone could be dubbed a master of magic. In Vincent’s investigations, it would seem that master sorcerers of Ambrosia are about two times more powerful than the so-called archmages of the Elysian continent.
He’d like to test them - Kirke didn’t like wasted talent. But that was for another day. For now, there was this business-owner to meet. The gaze from his yellow eyes briefly locked with the void of Kirke’s, before it instinctively shifted slightly away.
“I’m guessing you’re the guy?” Kirke asked, as if in expectation.
“The guy?” The man wondered. “I am not sure of this guy you speak of, but I am Luthier Slane, owner of the Pavilion,” the man extended a hand. Kirke frowned, unsure of what to do. Reese and Vincent stiffened, as perplexed, but Kirke surmised it was for a different reason. A few awkward moments later, Luthier moved on.
“So it is true that you’re not from here,” Luthier said knowingly. “And for sure, you’re the guy,” in Kirke’s mind, the guy was the first important person they’ll meet in these lands. The one’s they’ll come back to for help (if they became friendly, of course). If this Luthier person was indeed that guy then, he was in for the ride of his life.
Luthier laughed. “If you’re certain then I must be that guy,” he said, amused. “May I ask what that is about?” he inquired. “Sure,” Kirke said.
They stood silently for a few moments before Luthier seemed to come to a realization. It’s not as if Kirke didn’t understand the question - he just doesn’t like answering questions too broad to delve into. Not that he was into the specific details as well. It’s just simply a dumb question to begin with - but Kirke knew that Luthier was being cautious about the way he spoke.
“Ah, well, there are certain characters I’ve met in life…” he said that quietly, unintended to be heard but no words can escape Kirke’s discerning ears. “I can’t let you lodge without the necessary downpayment - not even Kings have that privilege here in the Pavilion, yhat is bad business… ” he said regretfully, though lined with a hint of professional pride. “However, I’m willing to hear you out. Mages of your… caliber have always been good guests of my inn,” he said that last part hesitantly. He was unsure.
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But Kirke was the exact opposite of uncertain. He looked towards Reese and Vincent, who gave looks of understanding. They understood Kirke enough to know his quirks. His quirks didn’t exactly cover simply the ‘lighter’ spectrum of things. Certainly, Kirke was aware of them - but he’s not about to change something that doesn’t need tweaking now, was he?
“If you will,” Luthier gestured for them to follow. The party was led towards the fifth floor of the inn through a shaft controlled by magic. The shaft had symbols, what Kirke assumed to represent each floor. With the press of a button, the party was elevated and shown inside the inn’s penthouse.
The penthouse was well… a large training floor. It was a surprising ‘office’ for a businessman, but that must mean that Luthier considers himself a mage first. This place was warded from scrying, clairvoyance, or any type of surveillance spell. There was not a basic office or logistical tool - only weapons such as swords, spears, knives and a decent collection of armor. At least, that’s only judging from Kirke’s shallow knowledge of such equipment (there were only few physical tools that his land used, mostly only for tasks unsuited to pure magic, such as seafaring).
His legion also looked at these weapons and there was a dissatisfaction in their expressions. As masters of magic, they were essentially free from these tools. Magic is the most basic foundation of the existence of Ambrosia’s origins and using tools for most tasks was a sign of weakness or being unskilled. But - that could only be true for the ambrosians.
Kirke understood that the tools the Elysian’s used are not because they are impeded or crippled - it simply means they have found a path of their own, veering away from Ambrosian’s own. It’s a network of possibilities unheard of in Ambrosia.
How exciting.
Thus, Luthier was definitely the guy. Magical chairs were about to appear but Kirke raised a finger, interrupting the concentrating Luthier. Kirke sat down on the floor. “Much comfier,” he said as he relaxed. His retinue followed suit and made themselves comfortable, although Vincent was still visibly fidgeting.
“So tell me,” Luthier sat down, intrigued by Kirke’s mannerisms. “From which land do you hail?” He looked towards Kirke’s clothes, then to his retinue. “Judging just by the way you look, these two are your…”
“Legion,” Kirke supplemented. “Right… your legion,” Luthier seemed to stifle a shake of his head, but wasn’t able to stop putting a hand on his forehead. “You’re probably thinking you’re confused, but we’re just as - only you didn’t know we were about to come,” Kirke said in understanding. “It must be your first time seeing Ambrosians.”
Luthier’s confusion turned into wonder for a brief moment, before being replaced with suspected dubiousness. “You are saying that you hail from a land of myths,” Luthier frowned. “I am no greenhorn, I’ve met a few characters in my life,” he said that as if it was the first time he said it.
“I know,” Kirke replied. Luthier didn’t know how to respond, but simply shrugged. “But even mages of your caliber should realize that making fools of the likes of me aren’t exactly looked up to,” Luthier said, a bit threatening in his voice. Vincent stood up as an anger seemed to flood his very body. Reese only looked on but her body was ready to spring into action. Luthier grinned, probably not feeling any power coming from Reese and Vincent - and Kirke as well.
Words are said to embody magic, magic powered by wisdom and emotion. Thus, even in the face of such rage, not feeling an ounce of strength must be a kind of salvation for him.
“That’s true. And well, mages of our caliber don’t exactly take each other for fools, now do we?” Kirke turned his head and silently commanded them to stand down. Kirke then looked back towards Luthier. “I didn’t think it’d be likely - seeing as we still see a steady stream of commodities, artifacts and even fashion in our daily lives. But to find out that Ambrosians are just as sneaky and isolated as this,” Kirke chuckled.
“Master, so you’ve figured it out,” Reese exclaimed meekly, both proud and disappointed she didn’t get to one up her master. But of course, it wasn’t a matter of skill when it came to the flow of information. Though, Kirke wasn’t interested enough to fully immerse himself in the nitty-gritty, just the right amount of knowledge regarding the swing of things at the right times; he lets his intuition handle the rest.
“It is true, the crew of the juggernauts are highly skilled in many aspects such as trade and subterfuge. At least, according to reports,” Reese isn’t good with details and is intuitive like Kirke, but unlike him, she’s more than willing to try and absorb these types of information. It’s simply not her strongest suit, so she chooses her battles. “It’s more than probable that they have a hidden hold on the Elysians than most realize,” Reese then gestured towards Luthier. “You’re probably in a position where you’re close to knowing such confidential information, but not quite there yet,” she said that a matter-of-factly. Kirke agreed.
Luthier however, simply smiled. “Then, allow me to use the exact words you said before,” he spread open his arms. “You’re also definitely the guy. Welcome to Armunnd, I am its trustee, Luthier Slane,” Kirke nodded but gave a questioning glance towards Vincent.
“Yes, a trustee of the Kingdom of Lanuza is said to have full authority over the land it occupies. However, the ownership of these lands are still in the hands of the King. Unlike normal lords, the power of trustees aren’t vested in their family names or prestige, but rather in their individuality, accomplishment, and trustful relationship with Lanuza’s king,” Vincent explained. Luthier showed an impressed look.
“Precisely; because of this, I am indeed aware that you are from where you say you came,” Luthier revealed. Kirke looked impressed in return. “So how’d you figure out we were telling the truth?”
Luthier raised two fingers. “One, I couldn’t feel anything from you even in such emotional states. Truly, a control of magic like no other - just like the myths,” Luthier said, a bit of childish longing in his tone. “The second, you still haven’t told me your names,” but when Luthier said that, Kirke’s assessment of Luthier went up a notch.
“So that means you can let me meet this King?” Kirke said directly.
Luthier’s eyes went wide. Who more likely to give the necessary information they need than a King?