The day after a welcoming party was almost always incredibly busy for a Guild like the Amber Sky. With the newcomers welcomed and shown the bar to clear, it meant it was back to work for those who’d been waiting for it to pass.
And Soren was looking quite amused as he looked at the all too busy job board, currently lined end to end in his guildmates clamoring to get back on the job, or for the handful of newcomers eager to get onto their first tasks and finally get their feet wet as proper Freelancers.
“Always the worst after some big event,” Soren chuckled, leaning on the counter and glancing at Manas. “How much you wanna bet half of them are hungover from getting piss drunk?”
“Eh, consequences of trying to out-drink Master Sharzok and Branmek. Not happening.”
“Hence why I never even try. By the way, how’s Ray doing?”
“Ray’s doing fine. He’s out of town for a bit settling a deal involving work. Had to go all the way to Aurora for it though. Promised he’d bring back something for you too.”
“Well, that’s nice of him,” Soren chuckled. “I’ll be sure to stop by your guys’ place once he’s back.”
“You’re always welcome. Besides, I like cooking for extra people. Maybe you could bring Syr along, eh? I think she and Ray’d get along since he deals in artifacts and what not.”
“Do we need two relic nuts talking our ears off for hours about their interests?”
“Hahaha, maybe not. But you know how Ray likes talking about his latest finds. Besides, Syr’s gonna need connections, isn’t she?”
“Fair point,” Soren then flinched when he felt a sudden bloom of warmth at his right forearm, quickly grabbing at the sleeve of his jacket until the feeling died down. “Damn… acting up again. Probably doesn’t help that my glove took a hit during that last job…”
“That spell focus glove you use?” Manas hummed as Soren nodded. However, he didn’t say a word about what else Soren had said, only having a knowing look on his face. “Just be sure to stop by Carys’ shop before you head out on the next job then. Best to have her look at it, right? Considering she knows and all that?”
“Yeah yeah…” Soren then gave a slight chuckle. “Dómhall suggested Syr stop by her place so she has someone who can help keep that staff of hers in top shape. Funny coincidence that, eh?”
“Maybe it’s fate!” snickered Manas. “Perhaps some forces beyond our reckoning are bringing you and that Alf together for some grander purpose!”
“Pfftahaha! Really? I know I said I may have a lead on actually digging into…” Soren lifted his right arm, shifting his forearm a bit. “This problem, doesn’t mean it’d be something like destiny at work.”
“I mean hey, you never know. We live in a world of magic, monsters, and people who can bend the fabric of reality to control nature itself. Weirder things would’ve happened than a happenstance encounter between two people with differing reasons for wanting to dig into the lost empire we’re all oh so keen to learn more about.”
“Heh, hate to say it but you’re not wrong,” Soren stepped away from the counter, pocketing his hands as he moved to the door. “Well, I’m gonna get to Carys’ shop. After that, time for the next job. See ya later.”
“Have a good one.”
As he left the Guild Hall, Soren couldn’t really help but ponder what it was Manas had said though. ‘Destiny, huh?’ he thought. ‘Not really one to believe in stuff like that or even fate… but maybe it really isn’t some coincidence a person like Syr ended up here… not when someone like me happens to be running around looking for his own answers about things. But… we’ll see.’
----------------------------------------
Within a place like Laguna’s Guild District, it wasn’t quite uncommon for one to find specialty shops in the Wards and Streets making it up. It was often best for these businesses to remain close to their best sources of income after all. Though cases such as The Bullrush were in other districts for ease of supply acquisition.
But, with how interconnected Clearharbor was as a city, it wasn’t as if taking the train or getting a cab to another District was ever a problem anyway.
But who would complain if they could get things done barely a stone’s throw away from their main place of business after all? For Freelancers, convenience was always a helpful thing.
The Autumn Leaf was of course, just one among many specialty shops of this nature. But, it was certainly one that, like The Bullrush, had earned its renown thanks to its patron being a master of her craft while being quite prone to reasonable rates for her services. “If you got magical needs, the Autumn Leaf’s what you should seek” had become a decent enough tagline for the shop for good reason.
And much like the Silver Scale, the place wasn’t at all hard to find when one found themselves on Ainsel Avenue, though for different reasons.
Where most of the Alf-architecture that made up the street’s buildings were done out of several styles of evergreens and oaks, creating a wide canopy of deep greens, living up to its name, the Autumn Leaf’s building was kept in a seemingly perpetual appearance of fall with its maple tree’s leaves being in a range of bright reds and oranges.
Helped mainly be the fact the tree used in the Weaving of the building had been sourced from the Maple Branches, a location in Vanira famous for being in a similar state of perpetual autumnal conditions thanks to the unique nature of the etheric energies of the location.
As Syr had told Ard, it was a tourist trap for good reason.
When Soren entered through the lower door of the establishment, the first thing was his nose being almost assaulted by a sudden breeze of rich, forest-scented gusts in the air.
Being as used to visiting the place as he was though, it did little to slow him as he shut the door and moved further in.
All around him were rows and rows of shelves lined in everything the perspective magic user would need. Spell catalysis from simple wands to elaborate staffs of who knew how many origins. Shelves lined end to end, stuffed with unbound pages yet all meticulously organized with nothing out of place. And even more beyond where one couldn’t easily see from where they entered.
And flitting through all of it were myriad multicolored birds, creating a rainbow of light trails in the air as they flitted from shelf to shelf, keeping everything where it needed to be or attending to the customers wandering the shop. Or, in some cases, going to and from several the same exact person.
An Aflish woman who, like many of her kind, looked far younger than she no doubt truly was. A slim figure covered in simple but elegant robes of Alfish make, the leaf-decorated, dark green satin coat splitting off to more sensible legwear and shoes beneath. Bright red hair with a few streaks of seemingly iridescent white scattered throughout, tied up into a messy tail that left a fringe to frame her pale-blue eyes.
The owner of the shop, Carys… or at least her many simulacra that operated as the floor-staff of the shop while she was busy in her workshop above.
Approaching the nearest one, Soren cleared his throat.
“Oi! Is the owner in, I need an item of mine looked at.”
“Hm? Oh, if it isn’t Soren!” The simulacrum turned to Soren with a small, curious smile, her voice a high trill like a bell. “What do you need help with today?”
“It’s my catalyst glove,” Soren help up his right hand, still clad in the red-plated, fingerless glove that was part of his combat gear. The leaf-like plating also connected to a bracelet that was part of the overall glove, which moved up to a small fore-arm sleeve as well. The red plating had a notable few nicks in the parts surrounding the bright blue gem at its center, which was also notably dimmed. “Got a bit banged up during my last job, and well… now that is acting up.”
“Ahh, I see…” the Carys-simulacrum gave a hum, taking Soren’s hand to eye the catalyst-glove more closely. “Hmm… yes, this will need to be looked at by Carys herself. She’s up in her workshop right now with another customer, but I can send you up if you don’t mind waiting. And of course… you’d be aware she already knows.”
“Carys has you lot working the shop of a reason. Thanks. I’ll head up myself.”
The simulacrum nodded as Soren continued through the shelves, passing by the main counter of the shop and finding the staircase that led to the next level of the shop. As Carys also happened to live in the shop to boot, the upper floor beyond the shop floor was both her living space and workshop for the products below.
It also wasn’t terribly unusual for Carys to have a customer up in the workshop, usually for when she had to make specialty items suited for a particular order. The easiest result was to simply have the customer visit personally so she could get an idea of what work needed to be done for the item being made.
Magic was… peculiar that way. As easy as it was to create general tools like wands or to inscribe the process of a spell to the page to then give an easy way for someone to either learn it, or in the case of something like a scroll, use the item up to cast the spell as a proxy, a specialized tool was a much more involved process, needing to take into account a number of variables in order to make sure all was proper with the creation and connection from tool to user. It was the only way to make absolutely sure that there weren’t any errors in the ether flow between tool and user when in use.
As he wandered to the workshop, Soren let his gaze idly go over the details of the upper hall despite having seen it far too many times by this point.
Alfish Weaving always left an interesting form to their architecture compared to the tooled construction of other societies. Rather than firm lines and hewn curves like one would produce with a saw or hammer, every line and curve of even something as simple as a staircase or hallway came off as entirely natural in shape.
Resultantly, the hallway he was proceeding down crested to a natural, smooth arch like the wood had been easily pushed inward to form the hallway. Even the shift from the floor to the wall was in a slight, natural curve rather than a hard angle. The few doors he passed were just as naturally worked into the wall and maintaining that same style of smooth curvature over hard-edge fashioning.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
A decently stark contrast to the metalwork and concrete construction of a place like The Bullrush.
“Now let’s see… workshop is always two doors down from the front, second on the left… find it from the leaf marking,” muttering the order of things to himself, Soren stopped at the door with the appropriate marking, leaning against the wall to wait out whatever business Carys had with her current client, whomever it may have been.
After a few more minutes of waiting, the soft sound of the door clicking open finally came. Soren glanced towards it as it swung open, his eyes widening a bit as Syr came trotting out of the workshop, the Alf looking about as surprised herself as she spotted him.
“Soren? What brings you to a shop like this?”
“Just this thing,” Soren chuckled as he held up his right hand to show the damaged gauntlet. “Thing got kinda banged up during my last job, so I wanna get it fixed up before I take off on another one again.”
“Huh, I mean it’s not that bad…” Syr hummed. “But I can see why you’d want it in top shape. I just got done having Miss Carys getting an idea of my staff for when it needs checking up. What kind of catalyst glove is it?”
“One of my own make, what else? Soren’s a pain in the ass with how specialized his equipment is!” Carys’ voice echoed from the room beyond, Soren giving a chuckle as he leaned into the door frame to look into the workshop.
As expected of a mage’s workplace, the locale was nothing short of controlled chaos. The room was illuminated by almost a dozen magical lights of varying colors, and the various tables were littered with everything from in progress magical tools to incomplete spell inscriptions, and a few more high-tech devices here and there among it all.
And situated at the only relatively workably clear desk was Carys herself, leaning on a hand as she smirked at the peering in Soren.
“What kind of things are you fighting that you’re banging up that glove of yours eh?” The Alf snickered as Soren strolled in, Syr electing to follow him as he approached the table.
“Blame those College associates of yours for making me help them deal with their drake experiments,” Soren chuckled as he undid the glove, sliding the item off and setting it in front of Carys. Syr tried to get a glance as he quickly yanked the sleeve of his jacket down, but didn’t catch anything.
“Hmm, let me see…” Carys picked up tool, a wave of her hand producing a set of glasses over her face as she eyed it. “Now then… ahhh… hah! And here I was thinking you were bringing it in for something serious. This is just the usual wear and tear. It’s been… what, five months since the last check? How many times have you stopped some claw or another from hitting your arm eh?”
“I mean it does go on my sword-arm…” Soren muttered, Carys smirking. “I just need it fixed up…” Soren glanced at Syr, leaning on the table and bringing a hand to his mouth, whispering when he spoke again. “Plus, that’s acting up again. Meaning that bit was what got damaged from the magic wear.”
“Ahhhh…” Carys glanced at Syr as the other Alf was clearly trying her best to listen in. “Ahem, Miss Fleyldis, I’m going to need to ask you to step out for a moment. This is some… private work that needs to be done. Just some trade secrets you know?”
“Ah… hehe, sorry!” Syr about shuffled back to the door as her ears took on a slight red tint. “I’ll wait down in the shop!”
“Didn’t know you two knew each other,” Carys chuckled as the door closed, snapping her fingers and setting a spell to the air. “There, just in case she tries to listen through the door.”
“Isn’t this room sound proofed enough?” Soren hummed.
“Hahaha! Can never be too sure with College types. Listening spells are handy. Now… let’s get to work.”
“Right…” Soren worked his fingers under the cuff of his sleeve, pulling it back to reveal his forearm. With a breath, a glow began to rise across his skin. Shining iridescently, the light took form across his pale arm, etching itself into the shape of a winged, stylized sword. The iridescent light ebbed down, leaving the marking as a dark blue shade, almost like a tattoo.
“Always impressive to see this Crest of yours,” Carys adjusted her glasses as Soren held his arm out, the Alf’s slender fingers running along the marking as her other hand ran across the gauntlet on her table. “Let me ask, that new friend of yours know about this yet?”
“Let’s just say I’m… giving it some time before I do,” Soren glanced to the door again. “She mention her interest in the Empire to you?”
“Oh, we talked about a lot of things while I got an idea of her staff’s make,” Carys remarked. “And no, I’m not going to tell you what. If I’m not telling her about this, then I’m not telling you about her deal.”
“Hah… so there is more to Syr than she’s letting out.”
“That’s the case for a lot of us Alfs who decide to leave the forests. Some of us like laying low… plenty of Freelancers in general are like that, last I checked. Hmhm… keeping secrets, trying to find answers to them,” Carys giggled as Soren looked to the side. “Don’t be surprised if that little Ascian hunter catches on. Eyes like yours are a lot more of a giveaway to those in the know than you might think. Lucky for you, Syr doesn’t seem the type to pry.”
“Luckily enough for me…”
Crests were another facet of magic that was of great interest to those who studied the field. While one did not need a Crest to make use of ether and cast magic, in fact the majority of mages lacked one and excelled well enough, the possession of a Crest was considered a sign of someone holding a level of potential that was of the “unusual” variety.
Perhaps one has a Crest due to being descended from a long line of mages who constructed it over generations. Or maybe the marking is due to possessing power from a magical entity of some kind, be it through means of blood or, in some cases, a contract with such a creature to lend the individual it’s power.
Whichever way it happened, possession of a Crest was something worth note, and many Crestbearers as they were titled sought out those who specialized in the research of them to learn of their origins and what it could be tied to if such a thing was unknown to them.
Yet, for Soren…
“As always, no matter how hard I try, tracing the origin of this Crest seems impossible…” Carys drew her fingers away from Soren’s arm with a sigh, her other hand lifting the catalyst glove. “If that Crest really is what we’re assuming, then I’m not sure anyone alive can truly plumb into its depths.”
“Not exactly encouraging,” as Soren grumbled, Carys chuckled.
“But it’s also such an interesting mystery. Do be sure not to let anyone else look at the thing, yes? I consider it my pet project.”
“Among how many others?” Soren’s snarky remark got the Alf to snicker.
“A lady needs a hobby. Now, let’s fix this up.”
Reaching into her desk, Carys withdrew a palm sized bit of metal, lifting the gauntlet up in her other hand. With a simple motion of her fingers, both items began to hover in place, Carys beginning to move her hands around the objects, closing her eyes as threads of magical light began to ebb off her hands and around the metal and gauntlet.
Those threads began to wrap around the bit of metal, taking bits of it off as smoothly as one would cut into something far softer. Those pieces of metal were moved to the gauntlet, being moved towards the nicks and cuts that damaged the runes laid into the metal, being shaped into the gauntlet as easily as if they were made of clay. And once the damage was filled in, a swipe of Carys’ hand produced a trail of red light over the article, coloring the newly inlaid metal the same red as the gauntlet, and another move brought that light to begin repairing the carefully laid runes that had been damaged as well.
The whole process took only a few minutes, and yet Soren remained rapt in attention. Weaving was a process that “elegant” was the only fitting word to describe it with. Smooth, flowing, and almost effortless in appearance.
“There we go,” Carys caught the gauntlet as it drifted downwards, handing it back to Soren. “Should also keep your Crest in check. Why do you even keep it repressed anyway? I know you’re trying to keep the fact you have one under wraps until you find out what its origin is – and need I remind we have plenty of evidence to what, but it’d still be a greater boon for you to actually make use of the power it has.”
“Considering what happened when I first found out I had this thing?” Soren shook his head as he fit the gauntlet back onto his arm, watching as the exposed portions of his Crest faded away under the undersleeve. “Not exactly something I’m keen to have repeat itself.”
“Ah you never know,” Carys mused. “The flow of events can oft lead one down unexpected paths. Be it fate or simply the whims of the universe’s chaotic nature, one can never be too sure.”
“Well, guess we’ll have to see where that flow takes me next,” Soren withdrew a gold coin from his waist pouch, flicking it to Carys with a thumb. “Thanks for the fix! I’ll drop by next time I’m in the market for a new spell or two.”
“Do have fun… oh, and keep an eye on that new friend of yours,” Soren stopped at the door as Carys turned the coin in her hands. “Like you guessed, Syr has more to her than she’s letting people now. Take it as… one Alf to another. That girl’s wellbeing is in my interest, same with a few others in this city.”
“Hah… how am I always getting mixed up in stuff people keep being vague with me about?”
“Perhaps it’s due to your own special nature in the world. People like you and Syr have a tendency to be drawn to one another.”
“I guess so,” Soren waved as he pushed the door open and started down the hall. To his amusement, Syr really had left rather than seemingly stuck around to try and listen in.
When he finally found her down in the shop, he wasn’t quite surprised to find Syr browsing the shelves of spell pages, seated atop a rolling stand more than a bit stacked with a few pages of choice she’d picked out during her wait.
“Hey there, Bookworm!” He called, Syr flinching a bit as he strolled up to the stand. “Looking for some new additions to your own spellbook, or you one of those mages who doesn’t need one?”
“Well… I mean I don’t really need one… but, call it being stuck in some tradition,” Syr looked between the pages in her hand, nodding and then adding them to the stack below her, then grabbing the shelf and moving to the next section. When she stopped, she reached to the leather pouch at her side, undoing the flap and producing a sizable book, bound in blue-dyed leather and decorated by golden filigree to paint the cover with images of leaves and flowers. “Something about carrying around this thing, filled with all the spells I’ve learned, just feels… right, I suppose. Even if memorizing them is easy enough.”
“Nowadays, some people would say spellbooks are outdated,” Soren drew his Deck, balancing the device on his palm as he leaned against the shelves. “Mages out of Laguna and the like have taken to using their Decks as digital spellbooks. Lighter, easier to input info to… and for the technomancers basically mandatory.”
“Well, they can have their fancy digital spellbooks, I’ll keep to doing things the classic way. Besides, penning a spell page yourself will always feel better than typing it in or scanning the paper.”
“Everyone has their preferences,” Soren chuckled. “So, what’s in line for your first job as a proper Freelancer, eh? What with the head start you’re getting and all, you must’ve had the works for decent ones to pick out.”
“Well, I didn’t want to dive too head long into the deep end,” Syr placed her spellbook back into its holder, gathering up her chosen pages and hopping from the stand. “But I think I did pick a decent enough one to get myself started.”
“Let me guess, diving into some Dark Ages ruins out in the wilds?”
“Hahaha, I’ll save that for another time,” Syr drew her Deck out and flicked it on, scrolling through it a bit until she brought up a window, turning the device around to show the job posting she’d loaded to it. “Decided to keep things simple for now: Clearing out some trouble making Plains Raptors that are getting a bit too close to the city for the Guardians’ comfort.”
“That simple huh? That’s usually something you move on from by the time you hit LR2.”
“Maybe, but I don’t want people assuming anything because I got placed higher from my test,” the Alf giggled. “I want everyone to know I’m just as capable as making my way up from the bottom as anyone else, even if I’m coming at this as someone from the College.”
“Well, can’t fault you for that idea,” Soren went quiet as a thought occurred. ‘Well, I don’t wanna go stealing any glory, but… maybe I should be a good senior and see how she does.’ With that thought, he cleared his throat as Syr turned to head to the counter. “Hey, idea. How about I tag along? No doubts you can handle it… but call it my own curiosity to see more of what you’re able to do. The two little displays I’ve seen got me interested in your skill set.”
“Well… I can’t say I’m against the idea,” Syr chuckled and stepped over to Soren, leaning forward a bit with a snide grin. “Is it perhaps that the gallant Freelancer has found himself charmed by the oh so beautiful Alfish mage he chanced upon?”
“Funny,” Soren replied by stamping a hand to Syr’s forehead, the Alf chuckling even as she was shoved to arm’s length. “Take it as a senior who’s wanting to make sure his new junior doesn’t get into too much trouble after showing what she’s capable of. Things can be… unpredictable out in the field.”
“Awww, I’m flattered you’re so concerned for me!” Syr chuckled as she moved Soren’s hand aside. And he did have to admit, she did look quite charming with that mischievous smirk. “But I can promise a pack of Plains Raptors is hardly anything to be worried about for me. Though… hmhm, I wouldn’t mind putting on a show.”
“Will admit, seeing how a College mage goes hunting is an interesting topic. Shame Sellen and her crew already skipped town on their next job. She’d love to drag them along to watch.”
“Hahahaha, maybe next time. Now, time to actually make do with these spells!”
“I’ll meet you back at the guild then.”