The Ivory Bell Inn was just inside of the citadel walls. It was clean—at least, as clean as a pub could be—dimly lit with warm glowing lamps, and not too rowdy, with a pretty dark elf behind the bar. She was rounder than was typical of elves, her dark hair beneath a scarf, her blouse cut low and her cheeks a lovely plum flush that matched her painted lips. She raised a brow when Kai declined purchasing a drink, instead only requesting a room for the night. Still, she took the five silver coins from him and bustled about for a key.
As she did, Kai found his gaze lingering on the board near the bar, with its various posts—notices and posters and ads. He swallowed thickly at all of the strange confirmations that he was, in fact, suddenly in a time before his own—the talk of the War, the unfamiliar council members of the Northern Kingdom’s High Court, the changed value of the gold and silver pieces he had on him…
And the fact, of course, that the Ivory Bell Inn had burned down several months ago, and had not yet returned to its former running state.
From what he’d gathered, he had found himself taken back a hundred years to the day. The Feast of Fyrinn was just a week away, and the Seeker of Truth’s celebration would welcome in autumn with it. A small street festival was to be held in Dyandra.
Kai still wasn’t sure how he’d managed to convince Roszondas that he didn’t need to be accompanied any further. For a moment, after asking what year it was, he was certain that the half-orc would press him for more information, to try and uncover the reason as to why he was asking. But they did nothing of the sort, except perhaps look a little concerned for Kai’s sanity.
“Here you are, love,” the barmaid said, returning to the counter and holding out a tarnished key, a tag with the number 207 written in curly script. Kai held out his hand and she slapped the key into his palm. “If you wanna keep the room, it’ll be another five silver in the morning. Otherwise, you can come down and return that key before midday, all right?”
“Yes,” Kai said, nodding and offering a weak smile. “Thank you, Miss...”
“Mara,” she said with a crooked grin, white teeth gleaming between red-violet lips. “And you need anything, you let me or Cecil know.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, indicating a kobold who was taking drinks to a patron. “Meals’ll run you a silver piece, but some ale’s just a few pieces of copper.”
“Not to be a bother,” Kai said timidly. “But… some water, perhaps? To wash, I mean.”
Mara nodded at this. “I’ll send Cecil up with some in a bit, how’s that sound?”
“Thank you,” he said.
He grasped the key tightly as she nodded at him again, and he made his way to the stairs on the far side of the bar. The staircase led up to the second floor where a hall was lined with doors on either side, no more than ten in total. Kai made his way to the end of the hall, where he found the room with the numbers 207 in black iron affixed to the painted wood door.
Kai had hardly closed the door behind him when there was a sharp, hurried knock—and he immediately opened it to find Cecil, balancing a jug, basin, and towel.
“Oh!” Kai murmured, backing out of the way for the kobold. “Thank you,” he said quickly. Cecil didn’t respond, planting the items he brought atop a short wooden bench at the foot of the bed. He was gone just as quickly, and this time, Kai closed the door behind him and locked it.
The room was small, but admittedly nicer than he had been expecting for the cost of a few silver pieces. The blankets looked thick and warm and soft, piled atop a comfortable single bed. There was an oil lamp on a simple, wooden bedside table. Against the wall was a set of drawers, a mirror set atop it, and on the furthest wall was a wide window framed with dark curtains.
Kai was quick to strip down to his underclothes, scrubbing at his skin with a determined vigor he hadn’t used when he was in Roszondas’s small wash room—he no longer felt desperate and frantic, but he swore he could still feel the blood against his skin, cooled and dried and sickening, even when he couldn’t see anything there. When he’d finished, leaving his skin tender and pink, he used the water to scrub his discarded clothes until the water was filthy from the dust and grime. He laid the clothes out on the bench, hoping they might dry by the next morning—at least, enough for him to be able to go back out into the city. He supposed that in the worst case, he could get away with wearing his coat over his thin undershirt; if he made the trip early enough, he would likely not be seen and could purchase a fresh change of clothes.
Or, he considered briefly, he could make himself unnoticeable.
He shook his head at the thought, skin itching at the thought—he hated using that magic. He could still hear the echoes of his mother’s abuse, spewing insults every time she was reminded of Kai’s abilities.
He gazed out the window with a sigh, looking at the bustling, moving city before him. He wondered how it could look the same and yet so different—could feel familiar yet foreign. He recognized the magical lights, in various magnificent hues of blue and purple, lighting the city. These lights shone even during the day; and the days in Dyandra were shorter than anywhere else in Visterra. Enfys had once told him that was why so many dark elves and kobolds chose to live there, because of the fewer hours of sunlight, due to the races’ aversion to such bright light; and that was why the city was lit by blue and purple globes at all times, aiding those who did not have the innate ability to see in the dark.
When he’d first arrived, Kai remembered marveling at the sight, thinking it was the most beautiful thing he’d seen. It was so different from the small village in Riviel, or even the Western Kingdom’s capital of Idella. In the West, everything was gold and silver and white—it was magnificent and, in its own way, it was beautiful—the same way the golds and rich reds of the East were beautiful. But Dyandra… The cool-colored lights against steel and black iron made the city beautiful in a way that Kai found incomparable and breathtaking.
And then he had met Enfys. The greyish-violet hue of his skin and the white of his hair glowed in the magical lights when Kai had first met him, and for a moment, Kai was half-convinced he was meeting a celestial being—surely some messenger of one of the gods or goddesses or other deities that watched over Visterra. The hunger and pain and helplessness that he felt made him half-sure that he was about to be taken to the Mistress of Death herself, but Enfys had assured him with a small chuckle that he wasn’t sent by Nadima.
Later, Kai would find himself thanking Ealda, the Lady of Fate, for letting them cross paths.
And even later, he would scream Ealda’s name, begging her to help save Enfys.
Kai swallowed at the lump that had formed in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, teeth digging into his lip with a jolt of pain, grounding him. He still wasn’t ready to think about it, the fact that Enfys was gone—
And with a pang in his chest, he suddenly remembered that he wasn’t.
A hundred years in the past, Enfys lived—Roszondas had even confirmed it. Enfys was alive, and he was working for Dyandra and the Northern Kingdom. Alive, alive, alive…
But… it wasn’t the same, was it? Kai sat on the bed, pulling up the covers to wrap them around his body. If Enfys was alive now, it was still nearly a century before the two even met. Could Kai really go to Enfys’s tower so easily, seeking him out so plainly? Could he go as the same Kai that Enfys would meet in the future, wearing a face that he would surely recognize? But the thought of becoming someone else almost hurt more—he liked this Kai.
But what other choice did he have, really? He felt with a strange certainty that if anyone could figure out the brass device, it was Enfys. That would likely be his only way of getting back to his own time.
And yet… did he want to go back to his own time? Certainly he wanted to find the reasons for Enfys’s death, but that also meant returning to a time when there would be no Enfys. His heart clenched painfully at the thought.
Still, he had no other choice. He needed to make sure that justice was given, that Enfys did not die in vain—for whatever reasons he died, anyway.
And besides, Kai thought with a bitter twinge of pain in his chest, this could be when Enfys wasn’t alone.
He would have been a fool to have never noticed the band that Enfys wore, the one he twisted around his finger at times with a pensive look when he thought that Kai wasn’t around, when he thought he wouldn’t see. Only once, after several months of studying under Enfys, had Kai mustered up the courage to ask about it—he could still remember the far-off look on the dark elf’s face, the way he smiled down at the ring so fondly and yet so sadly.
“It was from someone very dear to me,” he had said.
And Kai had swallowed the bitter jealousy and sour disappointment bubbling in his throat. He’d felt ashamed of himself after that, vowing that it didn’t matter, that being at the archmage’s side was more than enough, and that he was happy, and he’d do whatever he could to make him happy, as well.
That hadn’t changed—and yet, the idea that perhaps now was the time when this person in Enfys’s past existed was a terrifying and daunting thought for Kai. Would he really have the courage to seek out Enfys if it could mean meeting this person, as well?
He shook his head. He wasn’t a coward—and he had a greater mission, to return to his time and set things right; or at least, as right as he could. He felt as though it might never again be right without Enfys, but… he was not going to let whoever was responsible walk around free.
Besides. He always wondered who it was that Enfys could love so wholely. The Enfys he knew generally liked to be alone—he made an exception for Kai and a few others who visited him on rare occasions. Enfys was a man who loved his work and dedicated himself to knowledge, which was one of the things that drew Kai to him. It made Kai curious who the person was that Enfys apparently gave himself to so completely.
He clutched the covers closer to his body, putting out the lamp and laying down. But where did he even start with all of this? Was it as simple as walking up to Enfys’s tower? In the years he spent with the archmage, he was fairly certain they’d never received visitors in that manner, just dropping by. Did he need an appointment? Kai knew that Enfys spoke to those he did work for, but by the time they met, most of those had already established a rapport with Enfys and had set plans and methods of communication. Perhaps he could go to the archives, seek him out there… but was Enfys already working there? And if he was, when did he frequent the building, and how often?
He yawned, the sudden exhaustion of the day swooping down upon him almost painfully, driving itself into every inch of his body. Despite the warmth of the blankets, he felt a chill that reached his very bones, and he shivered. He let his eyes drift shut from wariness.
There was so much to think about, to worry about—things to plan and consider—and the weight of it all felt crushing and ominous. The plain truth was that he had no idea where to go from here. Despite being in a familiar place, a city that he called ‘home’ for five years, he felt lost. He silently prayed for guidance, though he again doubted that his prayers were heard.
He wondered what it was about him that made his voice inaudible to the gods.
At last, he succumbed to sleep.
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