Now that they had landed, no one wanted to stay on the ship.

“We only have one day here!” Lamond complained. “They have a huge international market! Imagine what I can do with spices from around the Empire! I need to get off the ship.”

“Well, technically, I’m not full-time crew so…” Jethro started edging towards the door. “Joe-boy, you coming?”

Joseph looked apologetically towards Navi and the others, then slipped down the gangplank after his master.

Ifanta flipped her hair. She was dressed to the nines in a gorgeous evening gown. “There’s an opera I simply must be seen at. Toodles!” She waved and swept down the gangplank.

The remaining four looked at each other—well, three and a half.

She had never been to the capital before, but… Navi sighed. “Casey needs to get to bed soon, so we’ll stay. Is that all right, Estelle?” The doll nodded her head. She turned back to the others. “That means we get to spend the morning out in the festivities if you men leave tonight.”

“Sounds good to me! Thanks, sis!” Lamond was gone in a second.

Jaehyun stood by the open door, looking out. He had not been seen on these streets in almost a year. They were situated on the third level of the city—which was the merchants and cultural level of the city. There was a high probability he would run into acquaintances here. “Navi, I could just—”

“Just go already!” She had started ushering the others towards the bridge and waved her hand at him. “Faffy here would be more protection than you in a fight anyway.” She turned back to him suddenly with a fierce scowl. “No hard liquor—per your contract!”

He smiled with a salute. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”

“Good. Now, get lost before I change my mind!”

_______________________________

His footsteps took him to the Imperial City Ballet. He could not help it. He had to see her—even if she did not see him. He purchased a ticket for a cheap seat in the back of the performance hall. He was sure to purchase a new suit for the occasion. There was a time when he would have had a private box overlooking the stage. He glanced up towards his family’s box. It stood empty.

The lights went down and the curtains went up. The opening strains of music swept over him like waters of a peaceful river. There, floating amidst the waves of music, the sparkle of a costume. She stepped into the light as dainty as any fairy (which he could say now that he’d met one). Angelique Liriel, principal dancer of the Imperial Ballet and the queen of his heart’s stage. He wished he could have been a little closer, but he contented himself with watching her from the distance.

Towards the end of the performance, as the dancers took their bows, she came back out on stage to the thunderous applause. Even from this distance, her smile lit up the theater. He had risen to his feet, cheering for her until he saw her glance up towards the boxes. He followed her gaze. She was looking at the box of Viscount          Polemy, an old family acquaintance. His heart sunk and his clapping slowed. She had found a new patron then. He could not blame her. It had been almost a year and patrons tended to be a dancer’s bread. He wondered if she still thought of him sometimes. Then he started wondering if anyone thought of him. The streets were filled with well-dressed merrymakers as he started making his way back to the air docks.

“Jaehyun? Jaehyun Park!” A familiar voice his name from the crowd behind him. He turned to see a man his age running after him in a rather undignified manner. He had a thicket of chestnut brown hair and a round, boyish face.

“Lord Handeer, it is a pleasure to see you, sir.” He bowed, mindful of his station.

“Don’t be like that, Park. We’ve always been friends!” Jovi Handeer threw his arms around Jaehyun. “It is so good to see you! Why didn’t you write? Are you well?” He held Jaehyun at arm’s length. “You look well! Where have you been?” He took Jaehyun’s arm. “Hold that thought! I’m getting us a nice dinner at Bonne Chance and we can chat about everything. Come on!”

Before Jaehyun could think to protest, his old friend had dragged him down the street. Maybe tonight would not be so bad after all.

__________________________

“Lady Vivaldi! Over here, please!” The cameras flashed as she stepped, glittering, into the light of the opera house lobby. The heads of the nobles turned to appraise the new arrival. She smiled brightly knowing that they would not find a flaw with her form, her clothes (custom-made by herself) or her manners. Given the amount of admiring glances cast her way, she knew she had their attention.

While she basked in the limelight after her seclusion in the Southern regions of the empire, she caught sight of a nobleman, making his way through the crowd. The crowds parted around him as though he were a shark amongst the minnows. He was easily over six feet in height and build like a fortress—well-muscled and with a severe expression. He kept his dark hair short. His mannerisms told of his occupation as a warlord. The mutters left in his wake told her that he was not in high favor with high society—not that anyone would dare to say it to his face.

Ifanta was drawn to him because of the pin adorning his cravat. It called to her with the music of home and made her eyes prick with tears unshed. The pin was fairy-made. Her eyes followed him until he vanished on the lift, then rage filled her. How dare a human wear a fairy trinket! A man like him probably wore it as a prize of war—the Lambascan Empire prided itself on having overcome magic with science, after all. It was their fault the fairies--! She caught her breath. The whole while she had been smiling beatifically. Now she refocused on the nobility swarming her with the reporters hovering in the background.

“How lovely to see you again, Countess! Lord Avery, you look as dashing as ever!” and so she continued to make her way through the crowd. She was not alone however, for behind her followed a silent servant, masked and elegant. His mysterious charm caught the attention of the other nobility (soon to spark the trend of having servants elegantly masked at events.). He held her wrap and parted the crowds before her.

Count Alphonse Heimrich had scarcely settled into his box when there came a rap at the entrance. His manservant went to the door and returned with a card. It was a work of art with the name Lady Katarina Vivaldi inscribed upon it. He frowned.

“Do I know her?”

His servant bowed. “No, sir, but you may want to know her. She is one of the top socialites of the Empire and—”

Count Heimrich flicked the card back onto the tray. “Send her away. I have no time for meaningless pleasantries.”

“I beg your pardon for my impudence, but I can assure you that there is nothing meaningless about my visit,” Ifanta stood in the doorway looking regal. “I only need a moment of your time.”

Count Heimrich eyed her. “I don’t recall having invited you to my box.”

“I would have remembered if you did, and simply refused your invitation,” she sniffed.

He raised an eyebrow. “If that is the case, what brings your ladyship here now?”

She took that as an invitation and stepped into his box. The servant closed the door behind her. “Your tiepin, Lord Heimrich.”

As a veteran, he was seldom surprised. This was one of those rare occasions. “My…pin?”

“Yes.” The look in this woman’s eyes was intense. She truly was not here to flirt or beg a favor. He was intrigued. “Where did you get it?”

“I purchased it some time ago,” he replied, bemused in spite of himself. “Would you like to see it?”

“I would!” For one second, her calm slipped and her face was suffused with eagerness. The mask slipped back quickly. “I mean, if you would be so kind, Lord Heimrich.” She curtseyed prettily.

He removed the pin and handed it to her. She took it from his hands so gently, cupping it in her gloved hands as though it were a butterfly. Her gaze from it never flickered. “Its…beautiful,” she whispered.

“You may have it, my lady,” he said. His servant coughed into his sleeve. He ignored the man.

Lady Katarina blinked and looked up at him, uncertainty stealing across her face. “My lord! I could not accept such a gift--!” Even as she spoke, he could see the yearning that crept over her.

“Then consider it payment,” he said, surprising himself. “—for keeping me company during this evening’s performance. Will you have a seat?” He extended his hand to her.

She looked at him for a long moment, then smiled. “I would be honored, my lord.”

_________________________

“Jethro Mulligan! The Jethro Mulligan who created the Mulligan hinge principle? You’re him!” The man furiously pumped the blacksmith’s hand. “It’s an honor, sir! Smiths all over the Empire have been revolutionizing the effectiveness of doors by utilizing your hinges! To think you would come to my smithy!” The Smithy in question was Jenkins Metalworks on the third level of the city.

Jethro swiped at his face with a huge paw to hide his embarrassment. “I’m just glad people are using the hinge principle. It we aren’t making things better for our customers, what are we doing?”

“Still, sir, it is an honor! Please let me know if I can ever help you with anything!”

Joe had wandered a little way away, checking out the quality of wares in the shop. Jethro leaned across the counter.

“Actually, there is something you can help me with,” he said, beckoning the other smith closer. “I’m looking for a man. Last I knew, he was a smith by trade—darn good one too! He went by the name of Bristol—Bristol Mulligan. Have you heard anything about him?”

“I certainly haven’t but I can check with my father. He’s the main Jenkins of Jenkins’ Metalworks. Wait here!” The younger master Jenkins scuttled up the stairs behind the counter.

Joe wandered back to his master. “They do amazing things with their sculpture technique, Master Mulligan. Could we stop by here when we get back?” There was no response. Jethro stared off in the distance. “Master?”

“Huh? What?” Jethro snapped out of his fog. “Sorry I—”

“Were you the ones looking for Bristol Mulligan?” a sonorous bass voice enquired from the stairs. The younger Jenkins stood there supporting a man who could only be his father.

“Yes!” Jethro clenched his fists on the counter. “I’m his father.”

 “Bristol had stopped by the capital some years ago.”

His breath caught. “When?”

“Maybe eighteen years ago? He had set up shop but did not stay long. He said he was looking for something he could not find here. So, he closed up shop and headed East for Kitua—'Least, that’s what he told his friends at the guild.”

“Kitua, eh? Thank you Master Jenkins!” Jethro pumped the old man’s hand. “You have given another old man some more life!” He made a mental note to pump the guild for information next. “Come on, Joe! We’ve got work to do!”

_________________________

“If you are looking to travel between the rings, may I suggest taking the lifts, sir.” The title of “sir” was given rather dubiously as the Rail operator gave Lamond a once over. “Sky rails are a…privileged form of transport in the city.” Something in his tone made Lamond’s hands clench…just a little.

He smiled languidly. “I’ll bet. But do you know what’s really a privilege?” Lamond leaned in towards the much smaller man. The man looked visibly nervous, caught in the glare of the mismatched gaze. “Living with all of one’s fingers is a privilege.” In a fluid movement, he slid a knife from his sleeve, then casually flicked it up in a juggler’s toss above them.

“AAH!” The man screamed and dove to the side. The taller man caught the knife in an apple he produced from his pocket. Without blinking, he began to peel the fruit. The operator got off the ground, facetiously dusting off his uniform. “Y-Y-You--!”

“Apple?” He asked, extending a slice.

“WHAAAT?” The man turned purple with rage and embarrassment. “I’ll have you arrested, you--!”

“Is this man bothering you?” a new voice interrupted. One of the city guards had heard the man’s startled cry and came over to investigate.

“No problem, officer,” Lamond grinned at him. “Just offering some fruit. It’s quite good. Care for some?” He extended the apple slice to the newcomer.

“Sure.” The operator gaped while the guard took the proffered fruit.

“But he—but I--!”

“Don’t look like you’re in trouble, so I assume this gentleman has been keeping you company?” The guard raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

The operator fell silent. The guard turned to Lamond. “I’m afraid the Sky rails have restricted access and its operators have special tasks to attend, right?” The operator scuttled off to assist some new customers. He turned back to the Drathinian. “You should probably move along before someone suspects you of making trouble.”

“Me? Cause trouble? Why, I wouldn’t dream of it!” Lamond gave a sardonic bow. “A good evening to you, sir.” With that, he strode back off into the city.