Chapter 4.2

The ride they’d gotten from the train station to Bellows Street really made the breadth of the Industrial District apparent as the car had gone along through the seemingly ever-present traffic of the area. Syr was so used to the naturalistic methods of her forest home that seeing how spread out the industrialization of a place not quite as magic-reliant as her home was.

And it had to be said, Bellows Street certainly earned its name.

A street that was end to end done in large buildings in the Vulcanic style, coursing with magically glowing ether-pipes billowing steam out into the air, some of them almost literally bellowing with their expulsions as gears turned and clanked through it all amid the sounds of the traffic as well.

“It’s so freaking loud!” Syr covered her ears as she followed Soren away from the taxi and along the sidewalk. “Are you just used to this kind of cacophony?!”

“Ehh, I suppose,” Soren shrugged. “Anyway, place isn’t much further. Just a… well I guess wouldn’t say small, since it’s Vulcan-run… eh, you’ll see. The place is called The Bullrush, and I’d dare say it’s the best smithy in the city.”

“I at least hope it’s quieter in there than out here!”

The building they ended up coming onto may not have exactly stood out since it’s construction matched the rest of what was around it, but, the obvious signs of a smith did stick out: Be it the sign frame that was made of the image of an anvil backed by a sword, shield, and spear, to the rather fancy mechanical bull’s head that marked the upper portion of the building, the ether piping purposefully sent through it both to make the bull’s horns and send steam spewing from its nostrils.

“… not very subtle,” Syr noted.

“Eh subtlety and Vulcans usually don’t mix. Anyway…”

Soren pushed his way through the suitably quite large door. Syr was relieved that they were greeted to a rather calm lobby compared to the hecticness outside on the streets. Though that wasn’t to say it was quiet. As one could expect from a place of business, the lobby had its share of both customers and employees milling about the wide floor.

Those at the counter inspecting weapons being shown by the clerks, others browsing weapons on display that were present to show off the skills of the crafters who had produced them, some even in differing scales to match potential users of different races. Even stands of various kinds of armor and other equipment. Clearly, a place specialized in the outfitting of those who chose more dangerous lifestyles.

Vastly different from the quiet libraries and arcane studies Syr had grown accustomed too during her studies at the College.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite rowdy Sword Saint!”

“And is that the best yet smallest merchant in Clearharbor I hear?”

Syr looked down as Soren knelt. Darting out from the crowd of customers came a diminutive sort. Barely tall enough to pass the decently above-average Soren’s waist, with a rounded, almost stubby body that Syr’s immediate thought came out as “adorable.” Wide set pointed ears, and bright, shining red eyes fringed by blonde hair done up in a messy ponytail. And dressed in a simple yet well-made business dress.

“A gnome?” Syr wondered, Soren chuckling as he glanced at her.

“Yep, and she’s an old friend of mine and the big guy’s,” Soren gestured to the gnomish woman as she bowed to Syr.

“You must be a new friend of Soren’s, a pleasure. I’m Urinoa Goldheart, though please feel free to call me Noa,” the light sound of Urinoa’s voice was a pleasant sound to the Alf’s sensitive ears. Syr took the offered handshake, finding it only mildly awkward to manage since Urinoa’s hands were so much smaller than her own.

And Syr could admit she wasn’t all that large herself with her own somewhat short stature for her race and sleight frame.

“Syr Fleyldis, good to meet you. Today just seems to be full of running into Soren’s associates.”

“Hahaha, you’d best get used to it if you’re gonna stick around this lunk!” Urinoa laughed as she lightly whacked Soren on the upper arm. “He’s not quite up there with the likes of Freelancer’s like Sellen and Concepts forbid someone like Lord Nuada, but he’s got a pretty well-known face around these parts. Reliable as hell, good for guard missions and the like.”

“Yeah yeah,” Soren brushed the gnome off with an amused snicker. “Anyway, what’re you doing here in ol’ Emberstone’s shop?”

“What else? Business!” Urinoa chuckled with a prideful smirk. “The old bull and his boys are working on an order for some stuff they’re sending out to the Zenith Frontier down south. Apparently, things are getting pretty uppity there. I’ve heard rumors the Beasts are acting up cause either a Wyrm or a Dragon came around and made a new nest in the mountains there.”

“Ohhhh…” there was an excited glint in Soren’s eyes as he stood. “Either of those things making a muck of things in a Frontier region eh? Interesting… that could lead to a decent job in the next few weeks.”

“Ahaha, well, unless the Hunters get to it first,” Urinoa then looked to Syr. “Ah, sorry lass. Are we leaving you behind with our business chatter?”

“Not at all! Actually, I’m rather interested in what you know,” the gnome giggled at seeing that Syr was also excited, though no doubt for very different reasons than Soren.

“Ah it’s just basic rumors, nothing concrete… you know your fair share about Frontiers?”

“Of course! Studying their nature was an expedition trip I had to take with my group during my time in the Sorcerer’s College. They’re fascinating areas. Steeped in powerful amounts of elemental ether, making entirely unique environments different even from the surrounding locales. Not to mention the kinds of Magic Beasts that are born within them. The Zenith Frontier is actually the one my expedition ventured to. Its forests are absolutely stunning.”

“Ahh, someone who knows the place! No wonder you’re interested in what a Wyrm or Dragon showing up could cause!”

“Admittedly it’s a scholarly intrigue. Dragons are seclusive enough as is, so hearing that one’s shown up somewhere is always interesting news. But if it's a Wyrm then it's less complex, more likely some kind of territorial issue. If the former, then it means the choice of negotiation would be open. Those situations can be pretty complex though. Dragons can be… case-by-case in how to deal with them.”

“Soren, you found a good one,” said the gnome. “Make sure she joins Amber Dawn.”

“It’s up to her,” Soren sniped back, Urinoa letting out a playful huff. “Though admittedly I’d be curious to hear what you’ve gotta say about dragons and Frontiers another time. Noa, you waiting on the big guy, or your business done?”

“I’ve been waiting. So hey, since you’re obviously here so Dómhall can look at that sword, why don’t you two come in with me? It’ll save everyone time. Because time is money! And I have like three more meetings to get to after this.”

“You’re rather busy, huh?” Syr commented.

“I mean I’m only one of the top board members of Gold Mark Trading, one of the largest trade organizations in oh… the entire world,” Urinoa was clearly amused as Syr’s eyes went wide and her ears fluttered in her rising shock. “Impressive, huh? And I’m young by my race’s standards! Not even a century old!”

“She’s 89,” Soren’s snark got him punched behind the knee for his remark, almost buckling from the hit.

“Never say a lady’s age, even she is from a longer-lived race,” Syr nodded in slow agreement to the gnome.

“I deserved that one,” Soren grumbled.

“Excuse me!” one of the employees at the counter spoke up. “Lady Goldheart, the Master will see you now!”

“I’ll be right there! Alright you two, come along!”