Albert was the kind of man who brought his work home. As in, he lived over his workshop and shop.
The ground floor of the building Albert lived and worked in was dedicated to the shop, while the first floor was where he lived. Apparently there was also a small forge in the basement, which entrance was locked behind a solid wood door that looked ready to take on a battering ram and win. The old [Clocksmith] said that he had become too old to work the metals he used for his creations and, instead, bought the services of a supplier who forged them , giving him the basic product that he then worked into gears and springs and chains and helixes and so much more.
Isse had spent what felt like an hour in the workshop just staring at the various tables where all these small and big clockwork parts were stored in an orderly fashion inside clearly labelled metal boxes that recited numbers and letters in a cataloguing system that only the old man could read and understand.
"I bet you'd be popular with children if you let them in here," she teased him with a smile.
All she got for an answer was a barked laugh and a rude gesture from behind the door that led to the front of the shop.
"If I let even a single child back there I'd rapidly find myself with a mess big enough to make any [Cleaner] in the city turn around and run."
"Aren't you worried I could do something like that? After all, I'm only an itty bitty little child."
She smirked as she felt from a distance the cold sweat that suddenly formed on Albert's back.
"Isse, my dear, I believe your documents state otherwise, as do you. Didn't you call yourself an adult when we first met? Aren't you an adult by arachne standards?"
His voice was cautious as he walked into the back of his shop, hands clasped behind his back, a condescending smile on his face.
Isse and Siidi both chuckled inside as, ever so slowly, they skittered towards a box on the table and, after opening it, began moving it towards the edge. They looked up towards a rather alarmed Albert with an innocent expression, like a cat sitting beside the carcass of a rat it had brought as a gift to her human servant.
"Girl, I swear on Airm and Larnos, if you drop anything in this room I will make you gather it back, be aware."
"Oh, Albert, I hear you, but how would you do that? I can walk on walls and ceilings. I can run for minutes on end at full speed without tiring. How would you force me?"
And at that, Albert smirked, causing a spark of worry to flare up in her chest.
"Yes, well, and what will you eat? The cats in the street?"
Isse raised her hand in the air, pointer finger pointing upwards, ready to answer that she was... only to remember just how horrible the taste of the slop she could turn other things into was. Also, she liked cats.
So it was that she gave Albert the win this time and lowered her hand, pushing the box containing... she hadn't even checked what was inside, back towards the others.
"Very well. Now, I have nothing to eat at home, so how about this: I'll show you to your room, you'll get yourself comfortable, and I'll go to the market and buy us some good food. Then... I think I'll bring you to a special place tonight. There are a few people who owe me a favor."
A special place?
Alright, this is the moment when we find out he's also some kind of [Pervert] or someone who managed to hide a [Slaver] Class, said Siidi in what felt like only a half-joke.
Please tell me slavery isn't a thing in this world.
Luckily, it isn't. Hasn't been for a long while. The practice was ended violently thousands of years before us. Sadly I don't know how.
She sighed in relief, which Albert took as a sign of agreement.
"Very well. Let me show you," he motioned for her to follow, opening a small door that led to a flight of stairs. They were made out of wood, with exquisitely crafted handrails on the side in the form of what Isse guessed was a flowering branch, wooden roses and tulips blooming here and there.
"This must be a literal Airm to clean," she tried to start another conversation.
"It is. Luckily I hired a [Cleaner] from the Cleaner's Guild to come here once a week to tidy everything up. They should've passed by yesterday if I remember the schedule right."
"You're rich enough to hire someone to clean stuff for you?"
"Girl, I think you're confusing a [Cleaner] with a [Maid]. If the former didn't come for cheap then their guild wouldn't exist. Well, I say cheap, but it does cost me a few Golds each time they come. But I can afford it. Clocks sell well, and you wouldn't imagine just how clumsy people are. Especially nobles who have more money than they can remember."
"...Do you make nobles pay more than they should?"
"That, dear, is the exact truth."
"Isn't that, like, bad? What if they find out?"
"My dear, it's not bad, it's called business. As for them finding out, you think an old fox like me wouldn't know where to stop?" he turned around as he said that, tapping the side of his nose and winkig.
They reached the first floor and Isse looked around. The place was... barren. No decorations, no fancy furniture, no paintings. Basically, the place nothing like she had expected after seeing the ground floor. It was as if Albert had poured all of his funds into the shop itself, completely forgetting about his living space.
"This place is sad," she said, without even trying to hide her disappointment.
"Really? I never thought so," said back the old man, looking around at the white walls and empty hallway. His tone didn't seem sarcastic. Was he actually for real?
"I never really cared for decorations. I grew up thinking about much more important things. The only reason the shop below is as fancy as it is is because a good friend of mine forced me to change everything up."
"Well, maybe you should tell that friend of yours to come up here and do the same, this place looks like nobody's lived in it... ever."
Albert chuckled: "Tell her yourself. You'll probably meet her this evening."
They walked down the barren corridor and reached a final door. It was, like all the other doors in the house, a simple, smooth, wooden door, with an iron doorknob that, when turned, led to a simple room. Isse was greeted by a bed, a desk, a chair, a wardrobe and a chest. The walls and ceiling were all that same, depressing, white.
"You know, I used to live in a forest, among trees, sleeping in a hammock of spidersilk, without all the amenities that are here. And yet I think that place in the forest was far more homely."
The moment she said that she regret it. Not because Albert got angry, no, he just chuckled, like he always seemed to do. Instead, it was because she remembered: her lost home, that small space she'd shared with her soulmate, Anda.
That brought a new pang of sadness.
No matter how much se tried, how much she bantered and smiled and joked and... it didn't matter. It didn't change what she was. The [Last Survivor]. The last one left.
Suddenly, her legs gave out and she fell to the ground. The Shifting Silk made it look as if she'd fallen to her knees, a strand of the magical fabric bending around and covering her head, making it invisible as an illusion of her body appeared much lower. That, too, didn't help her, as she remembered how much Aru had labored on this beautiful dress, how much time she'd spent spinning the silk and enchanting it, whispering the right words and making the right promises. She had been the last of the arachne to know the process, together with Grandmother, who had taught her. Now, that knowledge had died with her.
Albert looked down at her, the smile on his face disappearing. A small sigh was stopped at his lips as, slowly, he kneeled down level with the head he could see, grasping for a silken shoulder that wasn't her own.
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"I'll leave you alone for a while. Can you handle it? Or do you want me to stay?"
He looked uncertain, as if he hadn't done this a lot. While they'd been traveling he'd had the excuse of the road ahead and its possible dangers to keep his mind occupied, to keep himself from thinking about the girl in the back of his wagon who was suffering worse than he had ever seen... no, that was wrong, he had seen others suffer like her. And, at those times, he had never bothered to learn how to deal with all the... emotions, things, that came from that. He was trying, he really was. But he knew it probably wasn't enough.
"You can go. Don't worry, I'll be alright," lied Isse.
Albert nodded, getting up and leaving the room, closing the door behind himself.
As he did, he finally let that sigh out.
He didn't know what to do. But he did know someone who could help. Someone who owed him many favors.
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Creanza was an odd, funny, woman who led a great establishment on the outskirts of Tedam, near the southern gate. She was a [Barista], to be precise. Not an [Innkeeper], even if her place was sort of an inn to many of her employees, nor a [Barkeep], or any other Class that specialized in owning and leading a place like the one she ran, although she did own it. She was just a simple [Barista] who made drinks for people when they asked her one. Well, sure, she did order the kitchen and the staff around, but that was more a way to pass the time to her. After all, she had a [Kitchen Boss], a peculiar evolution of the [Chef] Class, in the back, and a [Renowned Head Server] at the front who worried about all the rest.
Still, if you 'wanted to speak with the manager', as some people sometimes did, you spoke to her and her alone. If something was wrong, like your food having a hair (most likely your own, because her chef had a Skill that prevented such accidents), or the dish brought to you having taken too much time, or the server bringing you the wrong dish, or whatever other stupid thing some customers came up with, you spoke to her.
At the same time, being a [Barman], she was a great listener. She liked to just sit behind the counter, cleaning a glass (sometimes she was too good at her job and ended up cleaning the same glass for a while because all the others were pristine), and listening to what a customer had to say to her, or overhearing the conversations between people. For a while she'd had a [Gossip] Class, but it had disappeared not long after, when she'd hit her capstone and it had been consolidated.
Now she sat behind her counter, admiring the clean room before her, the shining tables and pristine glasses, knowing full well it wouldn't last, and, in a sense, waiting for that moment. Because, really, you didn't do the job she'd done for as long as she had if you weren't willing to get your hands dirty.
"What hour is it, Lavia?" she asked her [Head Server]. The harpy smoothed her starched dress one last time and checked the pocket watch in her front pocket: "Two minutes until opening time," she said with a calm voice and a small smile.
Harpies, unlike the birdkin of the jungles of Eva, were originally from the Requi Archipelago, a group of volcanic islands not far to Irevia's south. Nowadays they could be found pretty much everywhere in the world, but they still preferred to live in the mountains, among their own. They were a rather isolationist people and finding one down on the ground, serving tables in a bar, was a rarity to say the least.
"Very well. Open the doo -"
Before she could finish the sentence the door that led upstairs, to the staff rooms and the few guest rooms, opened, and out walked a small figure wearing a black cloack and a white mask. Had one examined said mask more closely they would've soon found out that it wasn't made out of colored wood. It was, in fact, ivory. Better known as bone.
The young [Necromancer] walked towards a table and sat down without making a sound, tapping a single finger on the wood of the table to request service.
The harpy [Head Server] walked towards her, asked if she desired the usual and, after receiving a small nod, turned towards the kitchen and requested a simple breakfast menu of sausages and grilled cheese, while Creanza took a small glass towards a barrel in the wall and spilled out some apple juice.
A few seconds later Lavia passed by with a tray holding the food items requested by the diminutive woman in the cloack and took the glass, bringing everything to the table. The figure nodded in thank you and, after removing the lower half of her mask, leaving the mouth and lower nose free, began eating.
This was normal and usual. It happened every morning, without fail, always two minutes before the bar opened. Afterwards the woman would sit there as customers did their thing, maybe order another glass of juice, then get up and leave, coming back only two minutes before the arrival of the dinner crowd. She was strange like that, but not a bad strange.
After serving her, Lavia moved towards the entrance, taking out a key from an inner pocket in her dress, and with a fluid motion put it in the lock and clicked it open.
As the key turned several alarm Spells de-activated, from simple 'screechers' around all the windows (which were spells that made noise when something or someone went through the windows. Setting it up to make sure it didn't do that with cats had been a pain) to the much more complex and potentially lethal securety measures around the strongbox with all their funds and their most expensive vintages. At the same time some much safer and, one might say, cute, Spells activated: mage lights of various soft colors began floating all over the ceiling, their lights mixing together with the natural ambient light outside and the stabler [Light] Spells that illuminated the rooms; soft background music began playing from some Music Crystals in the center of the room, even though one or two were being frizzy. She'd have to change those soon.
Then Lavia flung the doors open and, with a soft smile and a bow, welcomed in the morning crowd.
"Good morning everyone. We're open for business," she said, motioning for everyone to come in.
And that's how it was every morning: wake up, have breakfast and chat with the [Chef], check everything, open up, work, close in the evening, have a friendly but very competitive game of something, from cards to chess, with previously mentioned [Chef] and [Head Sever] plus any of the staff who had the guts to join them, sleep, rinse and repeat. Now, putting it like that made it seem rather dull, but it was anything but.
That day, in particular, the very idea of dull was dashed away from her mind by the arrival of one unexpected guest not two hours after they'd opened: Albert Sirion.
"Albert!" she shouted, jumping over her counter, and surprising some of her clients, going for a tackle hug. The old man though saw it coming and seamlessly dodged her attack.
"Creanza, glad to see you haven't changed," he said as greeting, offering a hand to get up. She gladly accepted it, attempting to bring the old bastard down with her and give him a hug the way she wanted. She was a very touchy person, yes.
Sadly she failed. Old Albert was deceptively strong.
"You've been gone only three months Albert. Why should I have changed?"
He shrugged: "Thirty seconds can make the difference between life and death, my dear. It stands to logic that much can happen in three months."
"Always so grim. You haven't had your morning coffee, have you?"
"As a matter of fact, no, but -"
"Premiè! Get Albert a coffee asap! He's grumpy!"
A shout was all she got as an answer, but that was more or less short for 'Sure, give me a sec'.
"I am not grumpy."
"You're always grumpy Albert. Now come have a seat. Can I get you something to eat while you wait for the coffee?"
"I'd rather not have that here. Not after the time I saw Premié use a sock to make it."
"It was a clean sock!" defended Creanza, which did nothing to stop the many dirty looks she got from the various coffee drinkers of her establishment.
"Don't worry guys, the sock was used only once for this grumpy man here! Yall are safe!"
Yep, Creanza was a lively woman whose only raison d'etre in life was making people's lives better, sometimes with something as simple as a smile. It always worked.
When, finally, Albert's coffee arrived, he took a careful sip, swirling the liquid in his mouth to make sure there wasn't any distinctive socky aftertaste, and when he was relatively sure that, at least, a clean sock had been used, he began drinking with gusto, finally getting a good taste of the heavenly liquid that he'd become mildly addicted to. A liquid which, sadly, one couldn't find anywhere in the south, where he'd been on vacation.
"Good, am I right?"
Albert nodded, not a word leaving his mouth as, sip by sip, he savored the whole cup.
When he was done, Creanza asked the question he knew she would ask: "So, why are you here, old man? You don't have your 'visiting for pleasure' face on. You're wearing your 'Favor Man Face' right now."
She tapped the table in front of her twice with her pinky finger, showing off a small ring there. It was made out of cold metal, with a small quartz gem embedded in it, which was currently glowing slightly as the [Silence Bubble] Spell inside was activated. An expensive little trinket she'd managed to buy from a renowned [Mage Crafter] from Rodar.
Albert nodded, sighing. It was a good thing this girl wasn't a [Spy]: she would've made Grandmaster in a matter of years. She was way too good at reading people, and even better at knowing how to use them to help herself and others. Why she wasted her talent here as a simple [Barkeep] he would never understand.
"You're right. I'm here to [Call in a Favor]. I would like to ask you to allow me and another person in for the next time the 'Empty Hearted's Rest'. And I would also like to speak with your [Teamaker]."
Creanza's eyebrows shot upwards in open surprise when she heard the request.
"Really? You finally decided to free up some space in that heart of yours? To get rid of some of that pain?"
Albert shook his head: "I told you already: I don't have regrets I want to get rid of. This... this is for someone else."
And at that, Creanza eyebrows finally reached her hair, before they lowered down and she smirked knowingly: "Oh, I see! Found yourself a sweetheart from your old line of work, have you?"
She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, only to be shocked again when he said: "She's a young girl."
Creanza chuckled: "Wow, Albert! I didn't take you for such a dirty man. But who am I to judge, if you both consent."
Albert sighed, shaking his head: "I am not in a relationship, Creanza, stop acting like a fucking dumbass. I found her, lost and broken, in the middle of... it doesn't matter. She lost everything. I want her to rid herself of some of the pain for a while. I want you to help her like you do with many of our [Solders]. Can you do that?"
Creanza's smile began to slowly disappear when, finally, she realized this wasn't some kind of joke, that he was serious. That a young girl was so broken inside that she was in need of the same treatment she reserved for veteran [Soldiers] who were on the verge of getting a bloody Condition or already had one. What could've possibly happened to her?
"Alright, I'll do it. Here," she answered, fishing around inside the bag of holding at her hip, taking out two small metal squares with a heart on each side, the words 'Entrance to the Empty Hearted's Rest' subtly carved underneath.
"Don't lose them, or you won't be let in. As for Grazia, let me call her."
She went in the back, where the kitchen resided, realm of the one and only Premiè, who ruled the place with a steely fist.
A minute later, she walked back: "She'll meet with you. Please, be kind."
"I know, don't worry. I brought her to you after all, didn't I?"
And he went to [Call a Favor In].