The portal room in the Spire looked nothing out of the ordinary. As far as places accommodating the reality-bending devices, which were built by copying the ways of a long forgotten race of divine-like creatures go, that is. Merely a simple, round chamber, located as high as it sensibly could. Which, in case of the Spire, itself a relic of the past, meant quite high indeed. 

The reality-bending device in question had a form of a wrought-iron round loop, around two and a half mers in diameter, hinged on steel pillars firmly pressed into a massive round plate placed in an equally massive ring. Both the bearings and the baseplate were made of solid brass. The centrepiece could also be rotated in order to align the ring with a desired azimuth, marked in numbers and names etched in the baseplate.

This entire contraption was one of only two pieces of furniture in the room. The other one was a control panel, built in a form of a tall pedestal, comprising a seemingly chaotic web of pipes, joints and valves and terminating in an oblique brass plate, with only few indicators and the actual controls in a shape of embossed hoomin hands. The two were connected via a channel covered with rectangular bronze plates, a channel which most probably contained more pipes and valves which supplied the portal with required energy.

The walls of the room were currently painted mauve, with the exception of a thick golden trim surrounding the round windows, or rather the plain holes in the walls, to be more specific. These were bereft of glass or any other obstruction, and so the hot air was freely blowing in, creating a breeze which lifted sparse dust off the floor, causing it to swirl and dance in the shafts of afternoon bivlight.

At first it seemed that a third piece of furniture had been added, in the form of a hoomin mannequin, currently posed to lean against the wall, right next to the control panel. But when, after a considerable time, the portal operator, possibly one of the Spire’s numerous members of staff, asked a question and the mannequin answered, it turned out that it was none other but Beorg himself, wiling the time away by wondering whether Anh was going to show up.

Of course, the tanai was going to arrive precisely on time. Over all the years of their acquaintance he had mastered the fine art of using every single drip of time assigned to a task. Every single one. Anh being late was actually an exceedingly rare event.

The massive door to the room opened with a bang and the hexergist floated in. He dressed up for the occasion in a green robe adorned with a silk trim and sophisticated webbing of embroidery, both dyed in a contrasting, bright orange. Right behind him rolled in a sizable chest, made of wood and reinforced with iron. Rolled, because it was furnished with four solid wooden wheels attached to its corners. It moved with a barely audible squeak, which nevertheless had a grating effect. The nord almost considered smiling at this very familiar sight.

-“Yous made it. I was beginning to attribute a loss of a day caused by tight portal schedules to extenuating circumstances.” - said Beorg to Anh while straightening up and then gesturing to the operator - “We are almost out of time. Set up a transfer to Sheridawn.”

-”You gave me a candle, quanter and eleven triskols. I believe I am still a few drips too early.” - scoffed Anh.

-”The window will be available in a…” - the technician took a quick peek at his handheld timepiece -”...hundred and seventeen drips.”

-"See?" - added the tanai in a triumphant tone - "We are almost two triskols too early! I could brush my goatee a few more times." - the last sentence he grumbled to himself with an undertone of regret.

Beorg ignored him and nodded at the operator. Only when he made sure his order was being executed, he turned his attention back to the tanai, who positioned himself before the baseplate, making sure he looked appropriately to whomever would look at him from the other side of the portal. The nord then looked the luggage over and made a quiet 'hm' sound. 

-“Yous took way too much equipment. We will be gone for two, maybe three days at most.”

-“Beorg. My friend. This is a carefully packed and minimised version of our usual setup. We need this. It took Thernhohh a year to devise a proper packing sequence that optimises the amount of wasted space there while maximising carrying capacity.” - replied the hexergist, sounding somewhat annoyed - “This is not up for discussion. There might be happenings happening or finds found there. We may witness interesting places. What if we get struck with the desire to do some chemistry or botany?”

Anh continued his tirade ignoring the noise which filled the room. It started off as a low and fairly quiet hum, which soon grew in strength, all to the background noise of steam hissing in the pipes.

-“Additionally, what do you think we're going to do before, during and after we catch that fugitive woman? Huh? Do you expect us to ‘socialise’ with whoever lives there?”

The noise intensified even further and to top it up, the temperature now started to rise. The heat was emanating from the device in the middle of the room.

-“We already are down to only bare essentials! Some clothes, some books, cosmetics, a portable alchemy station…”

The air in the ring started to ripple and weave, and then suddenly a sengular formed in the centre, distorting the view behind it. 

-“It is done.” - Beorg used the booming sound accompanying the opening of the portal to interrupt his accomplice.

The space framed by the metal of the portal ring, rippled once more, the sengular collapsed in on itself and was then replaced by a transparent eventor, showing the view from the target station - a man dressed in bright yellow uniform and a great hall in the background. The view wasn't entirely clean, rather it seemed akin to watching the world as though through thick lenses, the surface of which never really stayed still or entirely smooth. It warped slightly, bending the picture here and there.

The Spire’s operator left his console and headed towards the glowing surface. Before doing so he stuck two handy flags, one red and one green, to his belt. When he assumed his position, he took a long look at the portal ring and then rose the red flag into the air.

Grotesquely disfigured image of a man on the other end of the connection was waving a red flag as well, a sure sign that the passage is not yet stable. After a short while though, he stopped, stowed his flag behind his back and took out another one, this time green. At the same moment the operator on the Spire’s side has done so as well, then gestured at the aberrants to enter the portal plate, a gesture which was repeated on the other side of the portal, in a poorly synchronised motion.  Both the hoomin and the tanai entered, followed by the wheeled chest, forced into motion by the latter's hexergy.

-“Welcome to Sheridawn, Mr McKeone.” - said the signal man when both aberrants appeared on the other side - “We are pleased you are on time. Your connecting portal is being readied at the ‘silver’ pad”.

The man, now seen without the distortions caused by the portal, seemed to be rather proportionately built. He was dressed in a uniform, which comprised yellow military kaftan, decorated in imperial style with braids and two rows of polished brass buttons, as well as yellow trousers with black lampasse and colour-matched soft square cap, without a brim. A wide belt, made of soft, blue cotton, completed the uniform.

Anh looked the man over, from tip to toe, noting the materials and fashion of the uniform, but Beorg just nodded and stepped off the pad.

Neither Beorg nor the technician seemed to pay that much attention to the surroundings. Unlike Anh, as there definitely were things to look at! The Great Hub of Sheridawn was awe-inspiring when first witnessed. Designed by no less than four tanai engineers, built by the best maargardian masons and finished by tahei craftsmen over almost twenty years. It was only surpassed in sheer size by the Grand Actosia of Vhirs in Graat Koch and in the number of portals by the Qvorum Complex. However, where the latter might have had more portals, they were designed for personal use and would not accommodate anything much bigger than a hoomin. The Actosia on the other hand was simply a place of worship, impressive in its own right, being able to accommodate over fifty thousand souls at a time but somewhat neglected as the importance of Maargard faded.

The Hub was designed in the shape of a gargantuan domed hall with massive mosaic windows built right into the structure of the ceiling, which served to provide light during daytime. The dome was supported on five half-arches emanating from a massive marble ball which acted as the keystone. The arches were in turn supported on tall and thick columns, organically dividing the structure into five distinct and colour coded areas. Each area's walls were overlaid with coloured granite - grey, blue, red, brown and black, while the portals' elliptical frames were inlaid with brass, steel, copper, iron and bronze, and where each metal was carefully chosen to contrast with the walls of the section it was built in.

The portal rings had a form of an impressive black loop, at least three mers in diameter. They were firmly embedded within a polished granite floor and permanently aimed at a corresponding beam-relay on the outskirts of the city. Each portal was surrounded by several marked areas used for crates and bags with goods, and also sitting areas for passengers. Right in the centre of the structure, directly below the keystone, was the office of the person considered the third most important in the Cammot Commonwealth, where the first was obviously the divine Vihrs, the second was the Regent himself whilst the third position was occupied by the Master Firector of Sheridawn. He, who made sure the furnaces feeding the portals of the Great Hall were always stoked and burning.

When the structure was first announced, the vast majority of engineers and architects considered it impossible to build, due to its complicated nature but mostly because of its colossal size. The entire project very nearly bankrupted the Regenture, despite numerous loans from Maargard, material help from Tanais and significant fund injection from the largest bank on the continent. Even the Utmostly Venturous Emperor of Sorres lended a significant sum of Ryals in spite of his country’s perceived near-constant financial strife.

Once it was finished, The Great Hub changed the balance of power on the continent almost overnight. Owing to the fortuitous location of the capital city of the Commonwealth, everything using the ever growing network of portals had to go through Sheridawn if it travelled from east to west or north to south. Thus the Great Hub was almost constantly busy, with a veritable horde of certified labourers ceaselessly preparing and schlepping goods for transport, and crowds of awestruck passengers waiting for their turn to travel. Since the tolls for the usage of the network reached an eye-watering level in the last few years, the landing and transit fees for using the Great Hall were equally steep and went straight to the coffers of the Regent and the Qvorum of Hexergists in equal split, with a percentage sent to Tanais. And a small sum was posted each month to an undisclosed individual in Usterlan Zeim. Suffice to say that in those few short years the Hub was operating, most of the debts had already been paid off and Sheridawn became the centre of the known world.

None of this however seemed to matter to Beorg. Firstly, he had been through here on numerous occasions. Secondly, he was well aware that the blueish-black stone, abundant here, was quarried on Kan Dag Sori under his watchful eye. Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, the bank he kind-of-but-not-really part-owned had contributed a significant share of the initial funds. Considering all of this Beorg really couldn’t care less how tall or thick the columns were or how splendid the light filtering through the mosaic windows looked. 

Anh however, or more specifically, Thernohh, one of his kin, was always impressed. Every single time the hexergist travelled through, she made a lot of racket in the shared mindspace, wanting the dominant to go here and look there and talk to this person, check and measure that column. Almost unwillingly, Anh lifted his head and looked at the arches, masonry, furnishings, trimming and equipment strewn all over.

The singularity leading to the Spire has collapsed by now, and the signalman who welcomed the aberrants was waiting for them to move off the pad to complete his duties and checks with the machinery. He coughed quietly.

-“The transfer of the Commonwealth Postal Service to Usterl is scheduled to depart in thirteen triskols. Silver portal. Allow me to be so bold as to suggest haste.”

- “We shall move to the input queue this instant." - responded Beorg and directed himself to the exit ramp. Anh followed him, dragging his luggage.

-“So” - shouted the hexergist, struggling with the ever present hustle and bustle of the hub, voices of men working on parcels, grating of boxes pushed along the floors, the annoying hum of portals punctuated by a periodic boom of collapsing reality, not to mention bells, whistles and other signals used by the Hub's staff - “Can you tell us more about this person we're saving?!”

-“Her name is Olga." - replied the nord, also elevating his voice - "Just Olga. I know very little of her background as of yet. Came from the deep south, around Mosvok perhaps, or possibly further south, maybe even Loria. She is a vagabond of a simple mind. Likes to fight, drink and fornicate, not necessarily in that order.”

-“A real intellectual I see. Anything else?”

-“A little over a year ago she arrived in the town we are headed to today. Port of Tevros. Gained notoriety when three men tried to bother her which reportedly included violence. She massacred them in the middle of a busy tavern in broad daylight. According to eyewitnesses, whom I interrogated personally, the corpse of the first one did not yet hit the floor when she was already done with the last.”

-“These eyewitnesses wouldn't have a penchant to colourise everything, would they? Seems too dramatic.” - pondered Anh - “But, on the other hand, in the light of your encounter… definitely plausible. After all, we have both seen Therese dispatch two dozen mercenaries before her hex wore out.”