Brief Visit to Lareen (4/4)
As they ride on the rail, Haalfrin does marvel at the efficiency of such a public transportation system.
Indeed, all the rails travel in a straight line, and seeing as how the city streets are laid out in a grid, you'd think that the trains would run into each other. However, at every corner, one of the streets slightly dips down, and other raises up. Like the threads in a tapestry, all the streets seem to be woven around each other as to run bump into each other.
Even more, Haalfrin notices that the metal wires hanging above the rails are charged with currents of mana. With the train always being in contact with these wires, they're always being charged with mana.
All those strange uses of magic aside, Haalfrin is getting a bit of a cramped feeling, being on this train. The people here are very packed together, and their condensed smell is quite rank.
After a few stops, Haalfrin says, "I'm ready to get off this thing. It was an interesting experience."
Mrs. Gaman nods, "The next stop is right there. Let's go the rest of the way on foot."
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It doesn't take them long to come across another market district.
Well, to be clear, the city is laid out in a giant grid, and the corners of each square is reserved for businesses, while all the miscellaneous space in the middle is for housing.
So, it's more accurate to say that Haalfrin and the others reached another street corner.
What stands out about this corner is that Haalfrin looks through a store window and sees a young Rehkin man from the Fox tribe.
'People are already immigrating?' The thought of Rehkin people willingly leaving their own lands to live amongst humans is preposterous to Haalfrin. Rehkin are far too disgusted by outsiders to ever dream of living amongst them.
"Let's go in there," Haalfrin says as he points at the shop.
Mr. and Mrs. Gaman think nothing of his decision, though Haalfrin notes that several of the bodyguards have displeased feelings in their Spirits.
It appears that not everyone is fond of the Rehkin.
"Hey, why do some of them seem unhappy?" Haalfrin asks while jerking a thumb at the bodyguards.
The Gamans scrunch their eyebrows. "What?" Mr. Gaman asks.
"Their spirits," Haalfrin clarifies, "They knotted up in displeasure as soon as I said that we should go into this Rehkin owned shop. Do people not like the Rehkin here?"
"Oh…," Mrs. Gaman says, "Well… There are a lot of rumors around that the Rehkin practice necromancy. We, of course, know that they don't, and that they use Spirit Magic instead. However, a lot of the commoners don't understand the difference."
"Ah… Well… Makes sense," Haalfrin says casually as he turns the doorknob and pushes the door open…
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When the shop door swings opens, it rings a bell hanging from the ceiling, and the shopkeeper looks up from his ledger books. "Oh? Customers…," the Foxman says in the human's tongue. "How may I help you?"
(Due to Rehkin being able to talk to their ancestors regularly, languages hardly ever die among the Rehkin. Hence, even after so long, Haalfrin can still talk with the Rehkin.)
Of course, these friends were among the Wills bound to him, but Haalfrin isn't going to mention that.
The Foxman gives an enthusiastic bow before gesturing to the shelves lining the back of his shop.
When Haalfrin walks up to the shelves, he sees boxes with artistic renditions of metal, mechanical dolls with human-like proportions.
Mr. Gaman is hearing Haalfrin chat away with the shopkeeper in a strange language, so he taps Haalfrin on the shoulders and asks what they're talking about.
"Here, he said that the Dolls do this…," Haalfrin explains…
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After Haalfrin and the shopkeeper finish updating the others on what the Dolls are for, Mr. Gaman puts his finger on his chin and looks at the dolls thoughtfully. "Can I take a look at one?" he asks the Foxman.
"Sure, sure!" The Foxman says. He plucks the nearest box off the shelf and sets it down. "Here. I'll take it out for you." He then undoes the top of the box and starts pulling out all the separate pieces – an arm here, a head there… as well as several seemingly random bolts and screws.
"Hmm… This looks like a standard housekeeping Golem?" Mr. Gaman remarks as he sifts through the pieces.
Hearing this, the Foxman scratches his head awkwardly. "Yeah… You need Fel magic to enchant things, and 'Fel' is what us Rehkin happen to be really bad at. I'm afraid I had to buy those golems as they are to use for my shop."
In other words, what the Foxman is offering is his service in making a Spiritual Connection between the client and the Doll – not the Doll itself.
This just makes Mr. Gaman even more thoughtful. "Hmm… Do you have any business partners on this side of the World Gate?"
The Foxman shakes his head.
"All right, how about this?" Mr. Gaman suggests, "I happen to own a golem manufacturing business. I could sell you golems at a cheaper price, and I'll make them more customizable. In exchange, you'll sign a Contract with the Ministry of Public Safety."
"What could they possibly want from me?" the shopkeeper asks – still a little shell shocked at being given a sudden business opportunity.
"Well, I'd like you to give the Lawkeepers a sample of every Spiritual Bond you make for all of your clients. Then, if some terrible accident happens to one of these people, the Lawkeepers can verify that the possessed golem is, in fact the victim. With that done, the victim can testify about their own death."
"But… investing in my shop won't be very good business," the Foxman says to Mr. Gaman. "The humans here seem to be wary of Spirit Magic."
"Don't worry about that," Mr. Gaman says. "Rich people like me, who have a lot to lose, wouldn't care about silly things like that. If it helps us stay alive a little bit longer, then it's well worth it. Naturally, when enough powerful people start to use it, the commoners will follow suit. Just give it a few years."
"Oh!" the shopkeeper claps his little hands happily. "That'll be good for business! Where do I sign?"
Indeed, if the Foxman can advertise this particular feature, then a lot of people will come to him, wanting to buy a doll. You can think of it as some extra insurance against would-be murderers.
After all, who'd want to hurt you if they know you can testify about your own murder?
Mr. Gaman briefly glances at Haalfrin, then turns his eyes back to the Foxman. "I'm a little busy today, but we can talk about the details later." He pulls out a card from his pocket. "This has my contact information and the address to my main office. If you don't hear from me within 3 days, feel free to send me a letter."
The Foxman takes the card with both hands and bows his head, "Thank you, Sir! Until next time!"
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After they leave the shop, Haalfrin and the others do very little other than eat out at some fancy restaurant.
The Gamans do offer to have Haalfrin over to their territory so that they can show him what kind of goods they produce. But, Haalfrin turns them down. "I got to go back to my soldiers," is the excuse he gives them.
In reality, the strange smell in this world is making him sick, and he's anxious to get out of there.