Lyall preferred the Mall at night. Sometimes, if he had nothing else to do, he’d come, ignore the stares, and lay on one of the couches to watch the great flood of stars devour the fading spears of sunlight. Then he’d start counting. One by one, Lyall kept track of how many silver pinpricks twinkled above. It was usually when he began to lose count that the heavens came alive with color. Grand bands of shifting hue rippled in soft waves Lyall now realized bore stark similarity to the creation lines, but these wisps of pure magic that were the planet’s very breath of energy were seen by all. Something within the Mall—an enchantment, Lyall assumed—drew the rainbow shadows within and danced their diffused rolls upon the walls. He’d give up all worldly thoughts, like the existence of numbers, and lean into the floating sensation that would take hold at the epiphany of being a mere speck in a sea of enrapturing cosmic might. 

Annoyingly, someone would always come over and ask what he was doing to break the spell. Cylon led them quickly in this case to limit Lyall’s stare up to a quick glance. The sky was a bit cloudy, however, so the colors were faint anyway. 

“We got here at the perfect time,” Cylon nearly skipped. “We’ll be able to write our reports right before the Guild front closes. Make sure you’re honest in yours. I’ll definitely be putting in your bad points as well as your good.” 

“Bad?” Lyall’s voice went low. 

“Things like you were too nice, too skilled, too brave,” Cylon dramatized flourishing his hand to his forehead. “It made me so jealous.” 

“You realize telling me this won’t prevent me from mentioning any mishaps of yours I might think to mention?” 

“Darn. Saw right through me,” Cylon scoffed. “I’m not worried though. I can tell I’ve charmed you.” 

“I’m head over heels in love.” 

“Oof. That’s a bit fast!” Cylon laughed merrily. He patted Lyall’s shoulder, and in the conjoined light of warm lamp glow and cool heavenly radiance the sheen upon Cylon’s pale skin seemed to shimmer once more. 

The Engineering Guild front was close to the entrance. Aside from the main counters, each front bore a side door for access to a private booth to report bigger jobs and receive bigger payments without alerting the entire Mall of one’s newfound riches. Cylon unlocked the door with a key given at the task’s acceptance, a bell rang, and an attendant slipped inside the enclosed space to meet them at the far shorter counter. Both were given paperwork, and it was a quiet hour of sitting on plush seats, bending over the small tables nearby, and detailing their efforts and finds. Lyall had kept the bear golems’ instruction guide to hand over. He also offered his map and sketch of the rune while Cylon offered a selection of random papers taken from various rooms. They were told they’d be summoned tomorrow once the review was complete. Leaving the building, Cylon stretched his arms to the sky. 

“I’m going to ask them in the morning if they’ll be willing to give us the answer, once they figure it out, as to why Oakey was there and dangerous when the rest of the factory was clearly geared for something else.” 

“Perhaps it was supposed to be the security that was otherwise lacking, but it wasn’t a finished project yet. I don’t think it would have been able to work outside of that room since it needed the runes to function.” 

“A good proposal. One that—” Cylon yawned loudly, “—I’d love to theory craft with you another time. I’ll be at The Tipsy Fiddle. What about you?” 

“I landed a good room at The Golden Crossroads, so I paid in advance for a few nights to keep it.” 

“I’ve heard that’s a nice place, so I’ll have to try it out sometime. In any case, goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, Cylon.” 

The two of them walked in opposite directions. Lyall reached his inn, dropped his gear and bags off, and was called to join a table with other frequent patrons where they exchanged stories, ate a delicious dinner featuring glazed venison as the main course, and clapped along to the band playing fiddle music in the corner. Lyall treated himself to a small glass of wine before heading up for his bath followed by reapplying new bandages and going to bed. He figured he’d have time to grab an easy job or two off the local help board but a messenger from the Engineering Guild searched him out when Lyall was still in his bowl of morning oatmeal. He and Cylon reunited in the side room where Krihani Puddlefern, a youthful and chipper gnome, stood on a stool behind the counter to give them their results. 

“The Guild is excited with what you’ve found, as well as the quality of your work,” Krihani bounced on her heels. The motion hung some of her floppy, platinum curls over her amber eyes, so she blew hard and created a part. “Based on your reports and the materials presented, we’re willing to give you the full payment now as opposed to waiting for our own investigation of the factory to be finished.” 

“Even though we weren’t able to get into the upper rooms?” Cylon checked. 

“That’s alright. You were sent to recon. We just needed a better idea of what was inside and the overall danger level, not a thorough sweep of every little nook. So, give me a moment and I’ll be back with your payment.” 

“A small request,” Lyall halted her. He dug into his bag to grab a handsewn pouch of blue with stitched wildflowers. “My mother made this for me, and I promised I’d use it. Can you put my payment in here?” 

“Of...” Krihani slowed to a pause before accepting the bag cheerfully. “Of course! One moment please.” 

Krihani hopped off her stool and used the additional low knob on the door to access the Guild’s backroom. Lyall and Cylon waited one whole minute for her return with Lyall’s bag and a typical leather pouch clinging with coin. She pushed them forward. 

“Sixty gold for each. I’ll also need your booklets.” She put that completion mark in each of their booklets, and Lyall’s chest released unnoticed tension from them earning several other stamps of commendation. “Any questions or comments?” 

“I’m alright,” Cylon said. Lyall glanced at him from the corner of his eye before speaking, smiling. 

“If the teddy bear golems ever end up on the market, may I have a good word put in for me to obtain one at a discounted price?” 

“I think a heavy discount—if not a full one—is workable. I don’t have final say on a guarantee of a full discount though, so don’t hold me to it.” 

“That’s alright. Thank you.” 

“Well, we’re done with that business!” Krihani clapped her hands together. “Mr. Cylon, you are free to go. Mr. Blakely, I have another matter to discuss with you.” 

“Uh, sure,” Lyall blinked faster before accepting. 

“I’d like more than a quick farewell, so I’ll wait outside,” Cylon relayed, although the statement to leave contrasted intensely with his pout of curiosity. Still, he left Lyall and Krihani alone. 

“What do you need to discuss, Ms. Puddlefern?” Lyall wondered. 

“Two things. First is my own confusion. I’ve seen bags identical to the one you gave me sold at the market here in Riath—by a small folk woman named Ginelle. I’m fairly certain she’s not your...” 

“I lied,” Lyall beamed, undisturbed. “I bought that pouch at the market here. For a reason that I expect to be helpful, although not for a situation concerning to the guild.” 

“Alright...” Krihani cleared her throat. “I’ll leave your business to you. The actual reason I requested you stay is because a missive was sent for any member of staff to distribute to the one known as Lyall Blakely. You’ve been summoned by Lady Sabine.” 

Krihani stretched out a crisp envelope of white so smooth it felt more like velvet, and Lyall roved his eye over the gold filagree along the edge before fixating on the soaring hawk seal belonging to Riath’s ruling family stamped into shiny, burgundy wax. 

“The messenger didn’t say why you are being summoned, but we were told you simply need to go to the Anthurium estate with that letter at a timing of your own convenience.” 

“I will check in soon then,” Lyall held up the envelope with a cautious smile, fingers quivering from a weight beyond how light the paper truly was. “Thank you again.” 

With nothing else to say, Lyall left the private room and found Cylon waiting outside the main doors with a proud air. 

“All sorted?” 

“Yes. Ms. Krihani simply let me know of someone else wishing a conversation with me.” 

“Good, good. Now,” Cylon slapped his palm over his heart. “I hope you can tolerate me a little more. I appreciate you coming with me on this job I couldn’t have done by myself, and I feel bad about you being the only one who got hurt. Thus, please allow me the honor of purchasing you another new shield.” 

“I’ll accept.” 

“No argu—uh? Oh. I mean, I’m not making a false offer here, but isn’t the social thing to at least deny me once? You threw off the script.” 

“I have matters to attend,” Lyall shrugged casually. 

“Fair enough. Timing is crucial. C’mon.” 

The two braved the morning market. Lines stretched out of bakeries as everyone clamored for their daily bread, stall workers roughed up their throats shouting to be heard over the ones next to them, and supply wagons clattered up and down the roads at speeds warning those impatient enough to think they’d ever have to slow for foot traffic. Lyall was grateful his full stomach made it easy to brush off delectable meat pies, tin bowls of spiced stew, and fluffy rolls filled with sweet cream. A few more minutes of walking saw the crowds thinning by the specialty shops, like the Young Flames armory Cylon opened the door and bowed Lyall into. 

The floor was stone and pulsed faintly with residual heat from the forge in the back of the building. An otherwise wooden storefront displayed armor, weapons, and shields along its walls and racks while a narrow staircase on the left took one up to a balcony section where fancier equipment awaited. Several other patrons milled about, and two chatted to an elderly staff worker at the service counter whose sagging wrinkles nearly covered his eyes. A male dwarf—brown beard braided in crisscrossing diagonals—approached. 

“Hello. I’m Hudgren. You two are clearly adventurers, so let me help you get suited for your next big job!” 

“Hello, Hudgren. My companion and I actually did just get off a big job, and, while I can’t give specifics, Lyall’s brand-new shield got crunched to pieces. I’m here to get him a new new one.” 

“Easily done! We do have a few enchanted pieces on the second floor...” Hudgren started off pricey, and Cylon made a guttural noise. 

“M-Maybe one day. We are still working first floor jobs.” 

“No worries. We’ve got plenty of fine pieces down here. Are you looking for metal or wood, Mr. Lyall?” 

“Wood, please,” Lyall stepped forward, already surveying options. 

“Is there a place we can set our bags down?” Cylon wondered. 

“Go ahead and put them on that table in that corner away from the door. We don’t have much there,” Hudgren pointed. 

“Perfect.” 

Relieved of their heavy bags, Lyall and Cylon walked the floor with their guide getting the salesman pitch for every shield and even some items Hudgren thought would be useful. Both held their ground. Lyall chose a standard lindenwood shield covered in hide stained deep brown and glossy with reinforced metal edging. It’d hopefully last him a little longer. Cylon retrieved the twelve gold necessary from his bag and squared himself boldly before Lyall once outside the armory. 

“We’re likely to bump into each other soon enough, but I just want to say thanks again for the adventure. I learned a lot and didn’t die. Whatever your goal is—I can tell you’ll reach it.” 

“Thank you, Cylon, and thank you for the shield. I look forward to seeing you master that spell you wish to learn,” Lyall replied. 

“Maybe I’ll be so good you won’t see me at all~” Cylon wiggled his fingers. “But, probably not that quickly. I’m hungry still so I’m going to search out some good bread. You enjoy your day.” 

“Same to you.” 

Cylon disappeared into the crowd with a hearty wave. Lyall waited five seconds after he was out of sight to squat at a quiet corner, open his main bag, peek inside, and smirk. He put his bag on his back and stood with a stretch. 

“That went well. On to the next.” 

He said that, but Lyall traveled away from his destination first to drop his shield off in his room, change into his nicest pair of clothes, and splurge on a public carriage ride to get as close as he could to his destination to prevent dirtying his shoes. Extravagant envelope in hand, Lyall approached the gate of the thickly walled estate of the Anthurium noble family.