Kane roamed through the streets of Tyraleth, enjoying his waltz where no voices, let alone the presence of others, would bother him in the silence of the night. For once, the chilly breeze of winter was welcoming as it rushed against his veiled face, though he missed the simple yet archaic look that Thalamar created, unlike the stone advancements of Tyraleth that made him feel out of place.
Unlike Thalamar, however, the streets were lit at night and windows fitted along the many manors allowed him to see faint lights between the small gaps of the drapes inside. Along the streets, tall lamp posts, erected from the tiled sidewalks, stood high with a bright yellow light illuminating the road, though not enough to prevent Kane from lurking in the shadows between.
Occasionally, he'd watch as a trade caravan would pass by, where two men, sat atop the caravan, would use reins to guide two horses that pulled the heavy loads. He wondered just what was being sent out of the city, and to where the goods were being taken.
Sure would be a better job than risking your lives against the nefandites, so he thought, looking back as the clacking of hooves on the snowy stone road and the rumble of wooden wheels echoed through the street. Indeed, it would've been a better job, though it still ran the risk of nefandites attacking the caravans.
For the couple of weeks that he and Bauer had spent in Tyraleth, Kane realized that a better developed city came with an even greater threat: more nefandites. While Thalamar wasn't nefandite-proof, it went without saying that it didn't face much issues with the fanatics. Tyraleth, however, had several issues with the nefandites, and such was the source of his and Bauer's income.
They poison the water supplies, he pressed down a finger for every instance of problems Nefandyr caused this city that they had to resolve, kidnap anyone they can for sacrifices, and attack caravans... They're acting like highwaymen. What's their goal?
Great question. What was the goal of Nefandyr anyway? No one knew, which was a recurring theme he found even outside of Thalamar. While no one dared speak about it to him back then, as though it were invoking an ill omen, people here simply lacked knowledge, what with the many commodities available keeping them ignorant.
At least one thing they say is true: Ignorance is bliss.
Indeed. Unlike Thalamar, people had a lot more time on their hands to kill, for there were so many things you could do in Tyraleth. Want to spend an entire life within the city selling goods and services? Not a problem. Want to experience new forms of entertainment? Not a problem. Want to drink one's life away? Not a problem. All of which were within the blink of an eye with so many shops and services around.
And to think that if I grew up in this place, Kane looked around, studying the streets that were devoid of any homeless rug rats, I would've been oblivious and had it easier. He sighed. That would've been real fucking nice.
And to think, this was only the fourth largest city in Teivel, according to Frederick, so who knew what was in store for the largest one?
As he scrutinized every corner of the streets, talking to himself about the things he didn't like about Tyraleth, he'd eventually reach the intersection he was supposed to turn left at.
Instead, however, Kane would simply stand still, absorbing the sight laid before him. He never thought it possible, but unlike the tavern's street, people could be seen walking around at this time, albeit, not nearly as populated as it was during the day. The signs of certain shops and outlets—more so on the east than the west—were highlighted with lights, along with flashing signs hung along windows that read "open".
Many young men and women walked in groups, their voices filling the otherwise quiet atmosphere, drowning out the whistling of wind. Some stumbled about as though they were zombies—some harmless, having a hard time maintaining their footing, some loud and obnoxious, and some vomiting—tarnishing the otherwise pleasant image Tyraleth had created thus far. Some people were kicked out of what he could only assume were more taverns, watching as they crawled back to the doors with bruised faces, begging to get back inside.
The only people he could not stare at with squinted eyes were some couples that quickly walked through the streets, keeping their heads down as they quickly made their way further up north, keeping silent. Normal folks.
"What in the fuck is going on here?" he asked himself as he stared, disgusted by the sight, feeling better about himself. "If I'm the piss stain or rat bastard, what does that make them?"
Without wanting to spend another second staring, he quickly turned left, though it wasn't that much better. Nevertheless, he simply ignored as much as possible, keeping a watchful eye out whilst trying not to draw attention by lowering his gaze.
As he passed by alleyways, he'd take a look through each one, watching as people either got involved in fights, slumbered within, or gathered around in a shady interaction. He thought it an absurdity that there weren't any guards to regulate these parts, seeing that everything around was pretty ugly.
And Frederick says that there's a lone manor in this fucking place? he wondered, looking around to see nothing but shops, taverns, and even a uniquely wooden building with a sign that read "The Velvet Veil", where he could've sworn he heard some music playing and strange voices from within.
For a second, he wondered about just taking a peek to see what the place was about, given that it didn't really hint any type of product of some sort, but he decided against it.
Clothing? he questioned, after all, it did mention a veil—a red one. Not interested.
Good thing he wasn't interested enough to take a look.
He was beginning to have doubts about finding this artificer, having walked for at least ten minutes with no manor in sight. It especially didn't help that Frederick had to mention that what he heard was merely hearsay, giving him the notion that perhaps the fat man had even lied just to get a bit of extra coin out of him.
But eventually, he'd reach a portion of the district where the number of people wandering outside dropped significantly, the shops were closed, the area was darker, and the silence had returned.
Peace at last, so he thought, taking a deep breath of the icy, fresh air. Better yet, he could see the lone manor that Frederick mentioned.
The manor, made with grey, cracked stone bricks, stood alone at the back of a large field of grass covered in snow, cut off from the rest of the district by a silver tinged, metal palisade, leading up to a gate that laid ajar—one half pushed back, beckoning someone to walk in. Spanning from the gate, a path of weathered, chiseled stone bricks cut right through the field of dark green blades of grass, just barely able to peer through the snow. It whispered an ancient tale of a house that had seen dawn of Tyraleth, and was ready to go with its sunset, whenever that may be.
To Kane, it certainly felt ancient, but it also felt ghostly, given how well out of the way it was into the city. It felt as though it wasn't just the house of any ordinary person, but perhaps an esteemed noble. Surely, this was the place to house an artificer... right? Such was a question that echoed in his mind as he stood before the silver gates, slipping right through small opening as the small bits of shoveled snow crunched under his footsteps.
Someone's definitely here, but, he looked at the cracked windows, unable to tell if curtains blocked his sight into the manor, or if it was simply dark inside, there's no tell that anyone's here. They better be here, especially after all that bull shit I had to go through.
That uncertainty, however, was quickly dispelled as he watched a light brown, arched double door swing open, where a man stood underneath a small porch, perfectly equidistant to two chiseled pillars. He wore clean back clothes on top of a white shirt, along with white gloves. His posture was perfectly straight, like a flagpole, and he held his head high, wearing a blank expression with his half open eyes, revealing the face of an aged man with a black mustache and neatly combed hair. Clearly a butler
Slowly, he closed the doors, before standing just before the few steps leading down to the path, poised with hands held behind his back, staring at Kane, who slowly approached with a light frown.
What's going on? Kane asked himself, watching the statue of a man stare into his eyes, peering into his very soul.
"Young man," said the butler, revealing a posh and clear voice, "are you lost?"
Kane took a few steps, stopping a few metres away from the porch. He stared back into the butler's bright and sharp blue eyes, letting the silence answer for him.
"What brings you here at this time?" continued the butler, holding his ground. "It is late. You should return home."
Kane dug a foot in a small patch of snow in front of him as he said, "I've come looking for someone."
"There is no one here. I alone serve my master's quarters."
Kane sighed. Should I openly say that I'm looking for an artificer? Someone could... He stopped as he remembered some valuable piece of information he'd nearly forgotten, thanks to his mind drifting away in his sea of thoughts as he walked to this place. "I was sent by the Bear."
The two stood in silence afterward, fixed in a staring contest, where the butler's eyes squinted and his jaw tightened, before he closed his eyes, lowered his head, and raised a hand to his chest as he bowed.
"Very well," said the butler, slowly raising himself before walking towards Kane, his height dwarfing that of the boy's. He turned to the side and extended an arm towards the door as he said, "Let us proceed inside. We shall converse where prying eyes fail to reach."