“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.
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. This chapter is updated first at novelping.com.
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 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 your banging up that glove of yours eh?” The Alf snickered as Soren strolled in, Syr electing to follow after 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.
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, leaving it 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…”