The interior of the Scribe's Tower was cooler than the morning air outside, and Alucent caught the faint scent of ink and oiled brass as he stepped through the entrance and let his eyes adjust to the lamplit foyer.
He saw that Gryan and Raya were standing near the notice board along the left wall. Gryan had his toolkit slung over one shoulder, and Raya's Weaveblade hung at her hip. They turned as he approached, and Raya's eyes moved from the top hat down to the blue boots before one corner of her mouth lifted.
"You look different today," she said. "I almost didn't recognize you without the blood on your face."
Alucent adjusted his grip on the cane and said, "Yes, I actually feel better."
"Heh, You look it," Gryan said, uncrossing his arms. He glanced toward the staircase at the back of the foyer and asked, "The ink-bleed?"
"It faded overnight." Alucent touched the corner of his eye briefly. "With the Semantic Fog too. The sleep really helped."
Raya studied his face for a moment longer, then nodded. "That's good. We'll need you sharp."
At that moment, Alucent looked between them and asked, "Did you report to Sir Vorn? About the upgraded Shadebinders in the workshop?"
"We did last night," Gryan said. "Gave him the full account. The breach, the swarm, the phasing. He's seen the Journal's coordinates for the Iron Vale Maintenance Hub." He shifted his weight and glanced at the staircase again. "He wants to see all three of us this morning, says he has a mission."
A Mission? Alucent nodded, and the three of them crossed the foyer and climbed the stairs to the second floor.
Sir Vorn's office was at the end of a narrow corridor lined with gas lamps, and Gryan knocked twice on the heavy Ironvine door before pushing it open.
The office was small but orderly, with a desk of dark wood positioned beneath a window of Frosted Glass, shelves of bound reports along the walls, and a map of Eryndral and the surrounding regions pinned to a cork board. Sir Vorn sat in a high-backed chair behind the desk, a man of fifty-eight with a grizzled beard and grey eyes that moved over the three of them as they entered. He was wearing a black tailcoat and top hat, and a pocket watch hung from a chain connected to his collar. A monocle sat over his right eye, and it clicked faintly as his gaze shifted from Alucent to Gryan to Raya.
He gestured to the three chairs arranged in front of the desk, his movement precise and economical. "Take a sit."
They sat.
Sir Vorn leaned back and steepled his fingers. When he spoke, his voice was measured, with a gravelly undertone that made each word sound deliberate. "I read Gryan's report. Upgraded Shadebinders phasing through solid barriers. A swarm targeting the Journal specifically. And Veyris using the city's Runeforce veins to expand his reach."
He paused. His expression remained stern.
"The Gilded Tier is aware of the breach. They're not happy, but they're also not acting. Which means we continue as planned."
Alucent said nothing. Beside him, Raya's jaw tightened slightly, but she didn't speak either.
"The mission," Sir Vorn continued, "is a security escort. You'll be briefed on the details by my informant." He picked up a slip of paper from his desk. "Her name is Candice. She operates out of Mossgrove Arc in the Verdant Vale region."
Gryan took the paper when Sir Vorn held it out, glanced at it, and folded it into his coat pocket.
"You'll find her at a tavern called King's Groove," Sir Vorn said. His monocle clicked again as he turned his gaze to Alucent. "I understand you used the Reed-Pattern Caster during the workshop engagement. Yes, I know about it and the journal, you can thank Raya for that but of course your secret is in safe hands and I assure you that the green council won't know about it."
Alucent met his grey eyes. "I did and thank you so much, Sir Vorn."
Sir Vorn was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Take it with you, if Candice's information is what I expect, you may need it again."
Having said that, he waved a hand toward the door, the gesture sharp and dismissive. "Dismissed."
They stood, filed out of the office, and descended the stairs to the foyer in silence.
Once they were outside, standing on the brass-bound steps of the Tower, Gryan turned to Alucent and said, "The Caster is still at the workshop right? Or what's left of it."
"I should think so, Is the building stable?" Alucent asked.
"Barely." Gryan started walking. "But the basement held. The Forgepit is intact, and that's where I stashed it after the fight."
They walked through the Marketplaza, past the Runespout fountain with its plumes of steam and the bustling stalls where vendors called out their wares, and followed the lane toward the outskirts where Gryan's workshop stood.
The building looked worse in daylight than it had the night of the attack. The upper walls had the faded, sketch-like quality of a structure whose Definition had been damaged by the Void, the brickwork appearing more like charcoal lines than solid stone. But the foundation was solid, and the basement entrance at the side of the building opened without resistance when Gryan pressed his palm to the lock-rune.
Inside, the Forgepit was dark and smelled of cold ash and machine oil. Gryan crossed to a workbench along the far wall, opened a locked drawer, and retrieved the Reed-Pattern Caster wrapped in oilcloth. He handed it to Alucent.
The weapon was heavy. Alucent unwrapped it partially and checked the barrel, noting that the brass had cooled and the stress marks from the over-clocking had not worsened, then rewrapped it and tucked it into the pouch at his belt, beside the Journal.
"What about casings?" he asked.
Gryan reached into the drawer again and pulled out a small leather case. "Six Thread 2 Kinetic-Banishment rune casings, four Piercing-Force. It's what I had left."
Alucent took the case and secured it in the pouch. "I hope this is enough for us if anything happens, thanks."
Gryan grunted, closed the drawer, and said, "I'm thinking the same thing, let's go."
They left the workshop and made their way back through the district toward the Vapor Station.
---
The station sat at the eastern edge of Eryndral, a sprawling complex of platforms and waiting halls built from Ironvine and brass and Frosted Glass. Steam vented from pipes along the roof in steady plumes, and the hum of engines filled the air as Steamwagons arrived and departed on their rails. Alucent paused at the entrance and looked around.
The concourse was crowded. Workers in heavy coats and grease-stained trousers stood beside merchants in fine waistcoats, and inventors carrying leather satchels stuffed with blueprints moved through the press of bodies alongside factory hands sharing flasks on wooden benches. A group of aristocrats in silk and velvet waited near a private boarding platform, their servants handling luggage behind them.
The smell of oiled machinery mixed with the aroma of vendor carts selling hot cog-nuts and fried dough, the paper cones steaming in the cool air, and the sounds of haggling, engine hums, and shouted announcements blended into a constant noise. Brass signage gleamed under the gas lamps that lined the concourse, displaying destinations in painted letters: Thornwick, Mossgrove Arc, Upper Veil, Coalridge.
Different kinds of people meet here, Alucent thought as he watched the crowd flow past. Inventors with access to experimental gadgets, merchants who know shipping routes, even aristocrats with noble gossip and political connections. He noted the face of an older man in a well-cut coat who was examining a brass device near the ticket counter, and the young woman beside him who carried a satchel marked with a guild insignia. Yes, a man could make useful connections in a place like this, it would be nice if I could invent or invest in something from Earth which hasn't been done here using my advantage of information from a modern world, I should come back when I have time.
Near the entrance, a boy of perhaps twelve was working the crowd, approaching travelers who had the uncertain look of newcomers, their clothes slightly out of fashion and their eyes too wide. The boy was gesturing enthusiastically toward a side corridor, and Alucent watched as a man in a provincial coat reached for his purse.
Raya noticed the boy too and shook her head slightly. "Eryndral never changes."
Not far from the boy, a newsboy on the corner was hawking papers, and Alucent caught a glimpse of the headline on the top sheet: SHADEBINDER SIGHTINGS REPORTED IN VERDANT VALE - THIRD INCIDENT THIS MONTH.
Isn't Verdant Vale the country or continent we're in right now? That must mean there has been sightings around the regions, especially in Eryndral, or has there been any sighting in Mossgrove Arc where we're headed? Alucent fell into deep thought as he tried to piece together the situation.
Gryan walked to the ticket counter, a brass-barred window manned by a clerk in a grey uniform, and said, "Three to Mossgrove Arc."
"That's thirty Silverweaves," the clerk replied without looking up.
Gryan counted out the notes, the old Silverweaves with their stable pale silver glow, and slid them under the bars. The clerk examined each one in the light from the gas lamp overhead, then stamped three tickets and passed them through.
They walked to the platform, and the Steamwagon to Mossgrove Arc was waiting. It was a long vehicle of riveted iron and polished brass, with rows of cushioned benches visible through the Frosted Glass windows. Steam hissed from the engine at the front as they boarded and found seats near the middle of the car.
The wagon lurched once, then began to move, pulling out of the station and into the open rail corridor that cut through the outskirts of Eryndral.
Alucent watched the city pass through the window. The Ironvine buildings and brass pipes and cobblestone streets gave way gradually to open land, fields of grey-green grass and clusters of trees with leaves that caught the morning light, and then to the beginnings of another settlement in the distance.
---
"Mossgrove Arc," Raya said, noticing his gaze. "Have you ever been there?"
"No." Alucent turned from the window. "I've heard of it but never visited."
"Understandable, well for one; It's different from Eryndral," Raya said, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms. "Same bones, but softer edges. More greenery. The region was settled before the industrial push, so the steam tech was layered on top of older architecture instead of built from scratch."
"Oh, okay, that's interesting." Alucent replied with the corner of his lips curling up.
It's been several minutes now, but nonetheless the wagon rolled on, and the settlement grew larger through the window. Alucent could see what she meant. The buildings here had ivy creeping up their walls, wood and stone visible alongside the Ironvine and brass, and horse-drawn carts moved through the streets alongside steam-powered vehicles. The pipes that ran along the rooftops were wrapped in vines and dotted with moss, and gears visible on the sides of buildings had greenery growing through their teeth.
This is definitely Victorian with a green filter,* Alucent thought. Although the steampunk elements are integrated rather than dominant, mossy gears and vine-wrapped pipes.
---
After another several minutes and what Alucent could theorized as two hours, the wagon slowed as it approached the Mossgrove Arc station, a smaller and more ornate structure than the Vapor Station, with carved wooden beams and gas lamps mounted in wrought-iron brackets shaped like flowering vines.
They disembarked onto a platform of worn stone and walked out into the street.
The air was different here, cleaner, with less of the metallic tang that hung over Eryndral. Alucent looked around, taking in the ivy-covered buildings and the slower foot traffic, then turned to Raya and asked, "Do you know many people live here?"
"Around 1.2 million," a voice said from behind them.
Alucent turned.
A woman was walking toward them from a narrow side street. She was short, perhaps five foot two, with brown hair that fell to her shoulders and a face that was beautiful despite the slight chubbiness of her cheeks. She wore a top blouse and grey trousers tucked into brown boots, and a tiny golden chain hung around her neck with a pendant shaped like a star.
Alucent stared.
Her skin was dark. Darker than anyone he had seen since arriving in this world.
Alucent face showed signs of confusion and hint of excitement and his mind couldn't help but share the same fate. I haven't seen a single dark-skinned person in Senele until now, he thought, his mind catching on the observation. Not in Eryndral, not in the Gilded Tier, not in the Marketplaza or the Scriptorium. I assumed—what? That this world was different? It has a Steampunk-Victorian era for goodness sake, although I can't deny that it's not like earth, but still I'm such a joke.
The woman noticed his stare and grinned, her expression playful. "First time seeing a Mossgrove native, I take it?"
Alucent recovered and inclined his head. "My apologies, I meant no offense."
"None taken." She stopped in front of them and looked at each of them in turn, her eyes bright. "You must be Sir Vorn's people. The Scribe, the mechanic, and the swordswoman." She pointed at each as she spoke, and her grin widened. "Am I close?"
"Close enough," Gryan said. "You're Candice?"
"In the flesh." She turned and gestured for them to follow. "Come on. We'll talk at King's Groove. I've got a table and a drink waiting, and the walls there are thick enough for private conversation."
She led them through winding streets, past shops with hand-painted signs and cafes with outdoor seating under vine-covered awnings, until they reached a tavern on a corner lot. The sign above the door read "King's Groove" in gilded letters, and the building was two stories of ivy-wrapped stone with Frosted Glass windows that glowed warmly from within.
Candice pushed open the door and walked inside.
The interior was more elegant than Alucent had expected, spacious and well-organized with polished wooden floors and brass fixtures and booths along the walls upholstered in dark leather. But it was still a tavern, and the sound of conversation and laughter filled the room as patrons drank and ate and argued over cards at the tables.
Candice made her way to the bar stand at the back, where a glass of pale green liquid sat waiting on the counter. She picked it up, took a sip, and turned to face them.
"Absinthe," she said, noticing Alucent's glance. "The local variety, I kid you not, it's sweeter than the Eryndral stuff." She set the glass down and leaned against the bar, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp. "So. Sir Vorn sent you for a briefing."
"Yes, I'm sure you already know that though." Raya replied her.
She took another sip and smiled.
Candice smiled and said. "Well then, let's talk about the job."