Father, Brother… I don’t think I could have at all expected to come across what I did when I arrived here… even despite the stories you all told me.
Syr’s thoughts as she witnessed Soren be so abruptly cut off by the sudden impact of a chair was something along those lines. As she watched him sail backwards through the door again, her head snapped around when she heard the roars of sudden cheers within the Hall.
The space itself was quite cozy to the Alf’s observations. Warm lighting provided by gently flickering magic flames and electrical lights above, natural browns and greens mixed with amber cloth making up the interior with brass metalworking to decorate the pillars and other fixtures of the central hall.
Perhaps to be expected one of the walls had the mounted trophies of different magical beasts the various members of the Hall had no doubt slain across its existence. It all felt quite nice.
Aside from, perhaps, the fact the central space of the hall was currently occupied by a thick ring of huddled together individuals, all hollering and whopping as the brief flickers of two others within the ring. Suddenly, the thrown chair made sense.
It didn’t help someone was on top of a table slamming the strings of a guitar almost wildly just to crank the mood up further in terms of the sheer mess Syr was witnessing. Along with the spectral forms of several other instruments floating alongside the player to add to the tune.
It also didn’t help that the chair went flying back into the crowd as a rather annoyed looking Soren charged back into the hall.
“Alright which one of you freakin’ muppets threw that thing?!” Soren shouted, being drowned out by the still roaring fight circle and blaring music. Eyes shadowing over, the young man gave a dark chuckle as his arms swayed loosely. “Too distracted, eh? Alright then, guess I’m tellin’ these numbskulls I’m back the old-fashioned way! Out of the way dipshits!”
Syr felt an eye twitching as Soren charged ahead and leaped headlong into the crowd, which promptly roared even louder as he went barreling in. It was around there that Syr’s luggage dropped to the ground as her grip on it slacked.
“Well, well, seems the timing couldn’t have been better… or worse depending on some perspectives,” Syr heard someone speak, turning to the main counter of the establishment, spotting its tender waving to her.
Said tender was a young looking Dynoriath, though he bore a much darker complexion than most of the others Syr had seen, hinting he likely wasn’t of Lagunan descent himself, going with his black hair yet with pale grey eyes that stood out thanks to said dark complexion.
“You look a little lost there, Miss Alf. Surprised our humble abode is so… well I suppose lively is one way to describe it.”
“Or perhaps rowdy…” Syr murmured, flinching as she spotted Soren getting tossed above the crowd, before sending himself back down towards whoever had thrown him with a blast of air from his hand. “Are they…?”
“Ah don’t worry, this happens all the time ‘round this place.”
“… I’m not sure that’s a thing to be casual about.”
“Hahaha! Don’t worry, this is always in good fun,” said the tender, waving a hand to pass it off. Syr certainly didn’t seem convinced. “Well… sometimes more than a few things get broken. And it’s not always the furniture.”
“Bah, the lass be right to be concerned for these grock shites!” A much gravellier voice squawked, Syr looking to the side as a much smaller figure hopped up to one of the chairs of the reception bar. The small arrival was humanoid themselves, but of a rather squat few feet in height, with gangly limbs yet a surprising amount of muscle.
Their skin was of a dark orange shade, and their face crinkled into a seemingly permanent scowl as their long ears flopped about between grey locks of frizzled hair.
“Buncha fookin’ gnobs is what that lot is. Can’t even have a simple discussion without snappin’ at each other! An’ then the rest just encourage it!”
“Ah come now, Meli, it’s always a fun time even when it gets rough,” said the other teller, their short companion scoffing. “Sorry about her, Meli is… a bit on the cranky side. Even for a Machinian Goblin!”
“Oi! If I wanted ya’ to insult me to my face lad, I’d have said it,” barked Meli, slapping the young man on the arm, though there was something playful in the gesture. Then she turned to Syr. “Sorry ‘bout him, lad’s cheeky. As he said, the name’s Meli. I’m one of this mess of a place’s Keepers. This one here’s my assistant.”
“Think of it like a receptionist specialized in catering to Freelancer business,” said the other Keeper, “I’m Manas. If you showed up with Soren, then you’ve got to be interesting. This have anything to do with that Drake that got loose earlier today?”
“Ah Concepts curse me,” Meli suddenly groaned, “Can that boy not help himself from doin’ reckless shite even after he’s done with one mad job?! I swear, he’ll do just about anythin’ if he thinks the coin is good!”
“Well, he wouldn’t be a High Ranker if he wasn’t a bit of a fool,” Manas mused.
“I actually think what he did was quite brave,” Syr stated, Meli giving a hum. “And it is a pleasure to meet you. I’m Syr Fleyldis, from Vanira. As you might have guessed, I came here to Clearharbor with interests in becoming a Freelancer myself,” she once again glanced at the crowd, who hollered as something happened within. She did hear Soren yell like he’d won in some manner. “The first impression has been… interesting.”
“Well, gettin’ a Richie from those old woods ain’t that unusual,” Meli mused, Syr raising a brow at the unclear slang, “Ya’ don’t see just anyone walkin’ about in such fancy attire and a staff like that. So, either you’re some rich darlin’ or from the College.”
“The College, to be precise,” Syr stated, Meli only grunting in reply. “And I’m sorry… Richie?”
“Bit of Freelancer slang is all,” Manas clarified, “It refers to aspiring Freelancers who come in with expensive looking gear it’d normally take someone with experience to get their hands on. I promise it’s not meant to be an insult… most of the time.”
“Only becomes one if ya’ prove it to be insultin’,” Meli then opened a window on the terminal in front of her, flicking through it as she leaned on a hand. Catching Syr looking back at the crowd, again, the goblin sighed, “If you must know, that there mess started cause o’ some of our other High Rankers. A dwarf and a Kólasi, you’ll meet ‘em if you stick around. Gobs always argue about the stupidest shite since they’ve got totally different ideas about how to fight things. Hard to believe they’re in the same blasted party! I ‘unno how their leader manages it.”
“We are talking about Sellen,” Manas stated, “She can keep just about anyone in line no matter how troublesome,” noting how Syr was politely waiting, Manas chuckled, “Anyway, Miss Fleyldis, I’m gonna assume you only just got here, right? If you’re looking to join our humble little order, I suggest first taking a look at some of the other Halls around here. A College graduate like you might be better suited for another one of them than our rowdy little place.”
“You tryin’ to make us lose someone that ruddy valuable?” Meli drawled, “I mean, don’t pressure the lass, but also don’t immediately tell her to screw off to those snobs associated with the College! No offense to ya’, ya’ seem like a good lass.”
“None taken, I quite agree, in fact,” Syr said, earning an amused chuckle from the goblin. “I’m not trying to be hasty about who I choose to join, I can say that. But I came here with Soren since it was on the way… and after today, honestly, I’m also just looking for a place to rest before anything else.”
“If ya’ want some food and board, the cost be 3 silvers a night for non-Hall members,” said Meli, tapping the tabletop, “I’m going to rightly assume you’re not coming to a new city strapped for cash.”
“Not at all,” Syr reached into her coat, drawing the rather finely embroidered coin purse from an inner pocket. Meli gave the item a look as Syr produced nine silver coins and slid them across the countertop.
“Careful with a purse lookin’ like that, gonna draw eyes,” Meli hummed, plucking two of the coins and rolling them in her palm, “Blessed be universal currency… though Vaniran coins do be fancy in their own way. No machine pressin’ or hammer smackin’… too smooth for some’s taste.”
“We Alfs do pride ourselves on our magical talents when it comes to shaping things,” Syr noted, Manas chuckling as he drew a keycard from a drawer, sliding it to Syr, a number tag dangling from a ring on it. “Thank you.”
“Visitor rooms are over to the right here,” Manas said, leaning across the counter to point off towards them, “Mealtime’s gonna be soon if you’re hankering for something. We got some good chefs here, so hope that forest palate is ready for something new. And thankfully the idiots look to be winding down.”
“’bout damn time,” Meli grumbled, taking a swig from a flask she produced out of her coat. “So, who bloody won?”
“Soren, of course,” Manas mused, watching with Syr as the crowd parted, revealing a now somewhat more scuffed looking Soren mugging down at a collapsed dwarf and Kólasi on the floor from a table, though a fair bit heavier of breath himself. “Ah those poor fools. Don’t mess with a Saint ranked swordsman even in hand-to-hand, never ends well.”
“So, he is Saint ranked,” Syr hummed, “He mentioned he graduated from the Sword Saint Academy, so I figured he was at least King ranked. But he’s higher…”
“Oh, trust me, the story about Soren’s time at the SSA is a good one. But I’m sure that’s something for another time. Do enjoy yourself!”
Syr nodded as Manas waved her off. Turning about, she strode towards Soren as he and the two trouble-causers were chatting, picking up on the conversation as she got closer.
“… and then we I got back, got kind of waylaid by a smuggled in Drake causing a mess near the docks district,” Soren was regaling the two with the story of his last job no doubt, and had gotten to the part just before his and Syr’s arrival at the Hall. “One of those experimental Armaros types. Fast little bugger, but had the same dang weakness they all do.”
“The bloody neck!” Chuckled the Dwarf, stroking his auburn beard as Soren nodded. There was also quite the shiner over his left eye, “Those tree lovers do enjoy their faffin’ about with magical beasts and nonsense! Pah, nothin’ a good automaton can’t do just as well, if not better!”
“You try creating something biological that doesn’t have some flaws in the design,” The one to speak was the Kólasi, his skin of a dark ashen grey tone, golden eyes aflare as he glared at the dwarf, with silver hair looking like wispy flames as it fell past his curled horns. “Unlike your clanky ass automechs, those take a bit more finesse.”
“Hah! And what finesse is required when all ya’ gotta do is say some fancy words and wave ya’ fingers around?” The Dwarf waggled his fingers in the still-aggravated Kólasi’s face as he chortled. “Ain’t nothin’ needin’ more finesse than the fine components of a well-made automech!”
“And yet nothing we can produce, be it magical or mechanical, has yet to hold a candle to those made by the Ascians,” Syr elected to give her own input as she approached, the Dwarf and Kólasi downright snapping their necks with how quickly they turned at the sound of her trilling voice. “I see your friends are quite the rambunctious sort, Soren.”
And no sooner had the young man’s name left her mouth than the other two snapped around and grabbed Soren with an arm each, Soren barely getting a yelp in as they forced him to lean down.
“The ruddy ‘ell!?” The Dwarf growled, “What’s up with this, eh?! Why you bringin’ back a looker like that and not tellin’ us what you’ve been up to?!”
“It’s this damn face of his I swear!” The Kólasi grabbed Soren by the cheeks. With a quick move, Soren broke free, stumbling back a bit as he grumbled.
“Sheesh, lay off! I met her when I was on the airship, don’t go thinking anything funny,” Soren said, then jabbing a thumb back to Syr, “She’s a prospect. It happened to be convenient for me to show her the way to the district so she could make it to the Guild Halls.”
“You say that like we didn’t oh so valiantly deal with that wayward Wyrm together,” Syr chuckled, leaning forward as Soren looked to the side.
“I was getting to that part,” he grumbled.
“Well with the staff she’s toting around, gotta be a decent mage at the least. College grad, I take it?” The Kólasi hummed, his eyes trailing from Syr’s folded staff to her robes. She couldn’t help but smirk a bit at catching his eyes linger on her waist for a bit longer than what would be considered typical for giving someone the look over.
“Yes, in fact. Top of my class as it happens. So do know if you get any funny ideas, despite my size, I’m more than capable of sending you through the nearest building… or three,” her playful threat got the Kólasi to laugh. He then threw an arm around Soren’s shoulders, tapping him on the side.
“You picked up a good one you pretty bastard! If she chooses this rowdy place, she’d fit right in! Nice to meet ya, the name’s Ard Gespent.”
“And I’m Branmek Stoneheart. A pleasure, little miss mage.”
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“Syr Fleyldis, the pleasure is all mine,” Syr gave a polite bow to both. “I hope regardless of whatever decision I make in who to join, in the future we can be friends and engage in good business. I’m quite interested in the stories you all have to share, since I’ve so rarely left the forests of my home.”
“Heh, considering how big the Vaniran Forests are?” Ard chuckled, releasing Soren when he was wordlessly prompted. “I’m sure you’ve had plenty of adventures of your own just exploring around there. You ever been to the Maples? I hear that place is damn pretty!”
“It’s a tourist trap for a reason,” Syr chuckled. “But yes, I have. It’s as pretty as the stories say, even more in person.”
“Well now I’ve got more of a reason to hope Sellen gets us out on a job to the place.”
“Speakin’ o’ Sellen…” Branmek muttered, “We best get a move on afore she gets back. Don’t wanna be on the end of another of her bloody lectures I say.”
“Agreed. Well then, you two have fun! Hope to see you around Little Miss Alf!”
“Well, they’re certainly good fellows,” Syr chuckled as Soren took a seat at the table while the other two departed. “So, what were they meaning with this Sellen person?”
“Sellen’s one of our highest rankers here in Amber Sky,” Soren stated, leaning on his right hand. “She’s subsequently the leader of one of our best teams, who those two nuts are part of. She’s… what one would call strict but fair. Her tongue’s sharper than her spear, and no one wants to be on the end of either.”
“Hmm, sounds interesting. Hopefully I’ll get a chance to meet her,” Syr chuckled and hefted her things, checking the key she was handed to recall the room number. “Well, I think it’s about time I get some rest. Would you mind showing me around some of the other Halls tomorrow?’
“Well, I’ve basically gotten myself into that one. No reason for me not to at this point. Hope you enjoy the lodgings. I’ve still got some things to wrap up concerning my last job.”
Syr nodded as Soren waved her off, trotting along and greeting some of the other Hall members milling about now that the commotion had died down. Finding the sign for the guest rooms and making her way down the hallway until she found the room.
She had to go up a couple of floors to find it. The key terminal let out a soft ring as Syr inserted the keycard, the door smoothly opening for her. To be expected for a room meant for a temporary stay, the space past the door was quite small and simple.
A large bed in one corner, a desk opposite it near the window, and a large screen opposite a chair near a nightstand. A door to her left no doubt led to a washroom. Though for now, Syr simply deposited her luggage on the chair, removing her hat and coat to hang them from hooks she spotted after moving further into the room.
To then simply flop onto the bed and let out a sigh. It was certainly soft, though not quite “luxury” if she had to say anything. Not that she was expecting luxury in all honesty. Of anything it was a nice change of pace from what she was admittedly used to. Life in Vanira made for quite the contrast to her brief impression of the city.
“And now that I’m here…” Rising from the bed and throwing open the curtains of the window, Syr felt her breath leave her as the view of the window spanned out to more of the city beyond, the buildings clustering to create a web of passages and rooftops she could near compare to the literal forests of her home. “… I can finally start working my way towards unraveling those mysteries… though, I’m sure it’s going to take a bit more work than just showing up.”
With a chuckle as she spun from the renewed excitement blooming in her chest, recalling how food would be served soon, Syr decided to make do on that and headed off. She just hoped dinnertime wouldn’t be half as rowdy as things had been earlier.
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The sight that filled his vision was the sky itself being torn asunder. From the ground, a massive pillar of light rose upwards into that torn sky, the land beneath that pillar cracking and broiling as fire spewed from the rapidly expanding ravines formed of the carnage.
The sundered sky was filled with the roars of beasts that soared in the air, those roars only matched by the weaponry firing at them in time to their roars and blasts of elemental might.
As he ran through the streets of the city, the air howled with chaotic, burning winds that seared his face, nothing but this chaos surrounded him. He ran and ran through it all, ignoring rallying cries or pleas that couldn’t hope to be aided no matter how much he wished it so. Soldiers cried out as they fired their weapons or slung spells, laying into the beasts that descended upon them with all the fury of a careless storm.
He himself was no safer, the sword in his hands flashing at those beasts that lunged for him, severing them into wisps of ether if a spell flying from his free hand didn’t do a similar job.
He continued to run without stopping, desperate to find some path away from the chaos as that sundered sky rained fire and brimstone. And then, amid it all, a roar that drowned out all other sounds cut through the air itself. A large airship came barreling above the skyscrapers, flames trailing from its hull as it tilted downwards.
And then something else followed.
Not one of the maddened beasts assaulting the city. Something grander, far more ancient than even he and his fellows could lay claim too. The titanic body made even the burning airship seem miniscule, rolling through the air through massive, feather and scale wings that blotted out the sundered sky. Its body regal and elegant yet terrifyingly fierce in visage, scales shimmering in brilliant whites and golds, obsidian talons raking through the buildings below the body with little care. The head angular and sharp, golden horns arching from its crest and forming a shape not unlike a crown as azure eyes burned with nothing but contempt and fury for all within their vision.
“Jormungandr…” his voice said the name with a shudder, his jaw tightening as his hands clenched. “Why?! What sparked this battle between us, old friend?! What has led the sky itself to sunder in our wake?!”
But his desperate cries for an answer fell on deaf ears as the regal titan above him paid no mind, its claws slamming into the burning ship and cresting below all view as bolts of blue pelted that body or regal white, once more allowing the chaos above to dominate the attention of all others.
“Is this the world’s answer? Is this… is this a punishment for my fellows stepping into a realm they should not? Against all warnings, all caution… is this what we deserve for trying to peer beyond the horizon?”
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A sharp gasp split the air in the room, Soren shooting upright with a start. He put a hand to his head as his breaths came out in heavy, sparse huffs. Managing to gather himself, he dragged his hand down his face, letting his hand flop into his lap as he felt cold beads of sweat drop from his face.
A quick glance towards his room’s window revealed not a hint of sunlight, only the scant lights from other buildings. His clock said while it was morning, it was still a couple hours before the sun would rise.
“That damned dream again… and this time I heard things… that’s a first,” he muttered, licking his dry lips as he slid out of his bed and stepped into the washroom. Cranking the cold-water handle for the sink, as it began to fill, he looked up into the mirror, staring into his eyes and focusing on his irises.
They had always been the feature most people took note of. Their bright, crystalline shade of blue was unlike most any other race, even for the colors expected of someone of Alfish descent like himself. More unusual, vibrant colors of the hair and eyes were an expectation.
But that particular color? He didn’t even know where it came from aside from possible rumors. Most assumed it had something to do with his attunement to ether, which years of practice had taught him was naturally strong even without the practice.
But there was another theory to why his eyes shined like that. A theory connected to something far, far older.
“Hah… wonder if running into Syr has anything to do with this… an Alf who wants to dig into the secrets of the Ascians, hm? Maybe fate really does have a way about things.”
Turning the sink off and splashing his face a few times, Soren started about his normal morning routines as he left the washroom. A few sets of pushups, sit ups, and pull ups using the room’s furnishings to help with it.
After that, grabbing a wooden practice sword from beside his set aside equipment and starting basic, repeated swings. He continued with the repetitions until he saw the sun beginning to rise. As it did, while setting the wooden sword aside he threw open the curtains and opened the window.
And the first thing he did was look at the sky. Beginning to be painted from dark blue to amber from the rising sun, Soren’s eyes fell to the stars that still dotted it even with the coming morning. And brighter than those glimmers of light were several more objects.
First were the three discs of silver that hung in the brightening sky, the Triplet Moons, all in their differing phases fitting for the season. One a partial crescent, one full, and the other waning. And closer than even those moons were the gleaming rings of dust and debris from who knows what time that arced across the sky, even more omnipresent than the celestial bodies it reflected the light of.
“And yet…” And then, Soren’s eyes focused on a small yet still visible shape near the rings. It wasn’t like the bodies hanging above their world. More like a blot, a dark spot… something that shifted in and out of view with the clouds passing underneath it. “One of those damned cities, eh? Something’s gotta be in those things. And if not… then why are they still hanging above us?”
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Mornings at Freelancer Halls tended to be busy as expected. From the residents, both passing through and proper members, going about their business of either eating and chatting over details, various parties gathered at the information boards near the entrance of the lobby to look for new work to take them far and wide. The only real quiet time one would find in the average Hall was nighttime, and even then, considering differing needs for sleep between people of different lifestyle choice or even just needs based on their race, the nights would still see plenty of activity, just on a somewhat smaller scale.
Soren, for his end, could thank being half-alf for somewhat cutting down how much sleep he needed. He was still rather prone to a “typical” eight-hours, but it wasn’t like suddenly jolting up from a nightmare did much to dent how much rest he truly got out of it.
Though needless to say, he was stewing more than a bit as he sat at a table on his lonesome, prodding at his rather hefty breakfast with a listless expression. And considering his recent return from a job, rather than his admittedly weighty equipment, he was dressed in a far more casual wardrobe, the main piece being the dark blue, half-sleeved jacket of a particular brand he liked. Though notably to it, he was also wearing a fingerless arm glove that ended just at the jacket’s cuff on his right arm, and only there.
His sword was leaned up against the table, merely because he had plans involving a smith who’d give him hell for not bringing it in at some point that day.
“What’s with the dour face at this time of day?” Looking up, Soren caught Manas coming into his vision, the young man toting two mugs in hand and setting one before Soren, before taking another seat and picking the other one up. “It’s just some milk fresh from the farms, don’t be looking at it weird now.”
“Sorry, just… mulling over something…”
“Clearly. For a guy who normally wolfs down his meals faster than a Vulcan, you’re being oddly tepid. Something happen on that last job?”
“No. The job was fine, went off without a hitch. Just… you know that dream I’ve told ya’ about before?”
“You mean that one where you see some sundered sky and apparently one of the Grand Dragons?”
“Same one. Had it again last night… only this time I actually heard things. Not that it makes any damn sense to me… but now I know it’s gotta be one of the Grands I saw in it. Cause I got a name, Jormungandr.”
Manas choked as he flinched, a spray of milk flying from his mug in time with his surprise. With a groan, he wiped off his chin and set the mug down. “Don’t blimey surprise me like that! You mean that Jormungandr? The Grand of Genesis, Eldest of Dragons? That Jormungandr?” Manas sighed as Soren nodded. “You realize most people besides me would think seeing one of those things in a dream means you’re crazy, right? Nobody’s even sure the Grands exist!”
“People aren’t sure a lot of things exist, and yet we continue to hear about them. Primals are a thing,” Soren countered, Manas sighing. “Look, I’m as lost about what in the Concepts it even means, but it means something. And I may have some lead to actually start going down that trail, no matter how thin the thread is.”
“You’re talking about Ms. Fleyldis, right? Weren’t you going to take her on a tour of the other Halls today?” Manas hummed, “What if she joins a different one? Gonna make it a bit trickier to arrange joint jobs, if she even plans on doing some ruin delving.”
“Oh, she told me herself it’s why she wants to be a Freelancer,” Soren chuckled, finally digging his fork into his food and taking a mouthful. “And besides, not like we don’t do plenty of work with other Halls on jobs like that. Those are always group expeditions. Not to mention ruin delves pay out big time, hehehe.”
“Always the money with you at the end of the day huh? Well, money and getting to fight things,” Mana smirked as Soren didn’t give any signs of denial at the claims of his intentions, merely getting to eating his food with little pause between bites. “Speaking of the newcomer, I’m surprised she hasn’t come down yet.”
“Maybe she’s writing letters home or something. Alfs back in the forests ain’t much for using Decks after all. Old fashioned as letters are, they do have their place.”
“Ah please we’re talking about Alfs. Them writing home is way different then how we’d do it. Still got no clue how their stuff works, what with all the magical nature warping and everything.”
“It’s not warping,” Syr’s sharp input made both young men flinch as she made her presence known. The Alf chuckled as the two turned to her, a quick flick of her arm causing her mantle to flutter. “It’s called Weaving. Our architects and smiths don’t use regular tools to forcefully shape materials, instead they use magic to reshape it in a natural way. It’s why so many of our cities are built in and through the trees of the Great Forest. Basically, all of our technology is based on different forms of Weaving. Though from my brief time here, there’s certainly merit to the advances made by others.”
“So, what were you doing in your room anyway?” Soren inquired, Syr adjusting her skirt as she took a seat.
“Drafting some messages back home,” Soren gave Manas a smug look at the confirmation. Syr raised a brow. “Anyway, I hope something hasn’t come up. You did say you’d give me a tour around the district to see some of the other Halls.”
“Relax, I’m not the type who’s prone to go from one job to another without taking a break,” Soren chuckled. “Some of the folks here certainly are, but I like to set a pace for things. Besides, that old bull at the smithy wouldn’t let me hear the end of it if I wasn’t taking my blade in for maintenance on the regular.”
“That thing’s made of Automech alloys though,” Manas hummed, his eyes falling to the propped-up sword. “Why’s he so insistent on looking at it all the time? That thing’s sturdy as hell.”
“That old Vulcan keeps checkin’ in on it cause he’s the one who forged it,” Soren remarked. “Old SSA tradition. The top four students of a graduating year are forged special blades as a symbol of their graduation. And the old man was the one who forged all four that year.”
“Ohhh? Sounds like a story,” Syr hummed, resting her chin on her hands with a cheeky smile. “Wanna tell me over breakfast? Manas here mentioned your time at SSA was interesting.”
“What did you say?” Soren bit.
“Nothing,” Manas winked. “Only that you have some interesting stories is all. Anyway Ms. Fleyldis, got anything in mind for a meal this morning? I’ll bring it to the kitchen for the cooks. They handle basically anything no matter the culture.”
“Hmm… then what about something a bit traditional? I’m thinking… Vanir-style breakfast. You know, breakfast cakes done with herbs, eggs, and some meats. And maybe some syrup from the Maple Branches if possible.”
“That it?” Manas chuckled.
“Not much else. I’m a rather light eater… plus things with actual flavor are nice after all the uhm… excuses for food I had to put up with at the College,” Soren and Manas snickered as Syr looked to be clearly recalling some poor memories as she also shuddered. “Oh! Actually, alongside that, I want to try something new. What’s something from around here that’s good?”
“If you want a suggestion that goes with a Vanir-style breakfast, I’d suggest pairing it up with a glass of local milk, and… hmm, what else…” Soren rolled his eyes as Manas got to thinking. He knew well enough that alongside his job as a Keeper, Manas was also quite the gourmet. “Ah! Try it with some Sea Pearls, it’s a Clearharbor specialty good for about anything.”
“What are they made from?”
“I’ll leave that a surprise.”
“You just had to give him ammo, huh?” Soren chuckled, taking a drink from his own mug of milk. “So, since it is relevant, what kind of Halls you wanna take a look at once we get out there?”
“Well… starting with one affiliated with the College would be nice. Just to set up contacts at least.”
“Hmm… well then, we’re going to wanna start with a place called the Silver Scales. They’re a College associate branch, so a grad like you is gonna be welcome, member or not.”
“Then I suppose we have a starting point.”
It wasn’t much longer after that Syr’s order came out. Quite quickly to her own surprise. She was also quite further surprised to find out that the accompanying “Sea Pearls” she had been recommended were a balled fish item, made in a set of orbs and covered in a rich cream of some sort. She wasn’t unfamiliar with fish of course, but certainly not the kind that would be caught at a seaport city.
Despite the surprise, she found it went quite well with the otherwise traditional food from her homeland, finding the flavor quite sweet. I suppose that adds something to my impression of this place, she thought while happily eating, catching Soren snickering at her the while. Though… I’ll have to see how these other Halls pan out. Oh, do I pray that this Silver Scales place is tame…