Azuran

Sol strolled through the bustling streets of the Main Market District, weaving through merchants, traders, and wandering customers with ease. The city-ship never truly felt real to him—not in the way Galvaris Prime had. It was too strange, too grand, too impossibly alive. Yet, here he was, walking its streets like he belonged.

His destination, Marlowe's Provisions, wasn't far now. He adjusted his grip on the hover-cart, keeping it steady as he took in the sights and sounds of the market. The scent of sizzling meats mixed with the crisp tang of metal from nearby cybernetic stalls. Traders shouted over each other, haggling fiercely, and alien languages interwove into a symphony of commerce.

Despite his relaxed posture, Sol remained aware of his surroundings. He hadn't forgotten what Rhett and Lena had told him. Someone was watching the bar, paying attention to its supply lines. He didn't know who, but he wouldn't let his guard down.

Finally, he reached his destination. Marlowe's Provisions was tucked into a corner of the district, a sturdy-looking shop with wide windows showcasing various imported goods. The sign above the entrance flickered slightly, but the name was clear enough.

Sol pushed open the door, a small bell chiming as he entered. The interior smelled of spices, dried goods, and aged liquor. Wooden shelves lined the walls, stocked with everything from rare ingredients to high-end spirits. Behind the counter stood a middle-aged man with gray-streaked hair, sharp eyes, and an apron that had seen better days.

"Ah, you must be the new delivery boy," the man said, setting down a ledger. "The old man finally hired someone with a backbone?"

Sol smirked. "Something like that. Got a delivery for you."

Marlowe nodded, stepping around the counter. "Good. Let's get it unloaded."

Sol helped transfer the crates, stacking them where instructed. Marlowe inspected each one, grunting in approval. "Everything's in order. The old man knows quality."

"That he does," Sol agreed. He dusted his hands off and leaned against the counter. "So, Marlowe, you've been in business for a while, right?"

Marlowe gave him a sidelong glance. "Long enough. Why?"

Sol shrugged. "Just curious. Been hearing things. Some people are paying extra attention to Lover's Bar."

Marlowe's expression darkened slightly. "You hear that from Rhett and Lena?"

"Maybe."

The shopkeeper sighed, rubbing his temple. "It's not surprising. The old man's kept his business clean for a long time, but that doesn't mean people don't want a piece of it. Could be rivals, could be someone thinking he's sitting on something valuable."

"You think it's going to be a problem?"

Marlowe folded his arms. "It already is, if people are talking. You seem smart, kid—keep your head down and do the job. The less you get involved, the better."

Sol nodded, but the advice didn't sit right with him. He wasn't the type to ignore things that could turn into a threat later. He let the conversation drop for now, though, knowing he wouldn't get more out of Marlowe today.

After settling the paperwork, Marlowe handed him a small pouch of credits. "For the delivery. The old man already covered your wages, but consider this a bonus."

Sol accepted it with a grin. "Appreciate it."

Then, with zero shame, he flashed Marlowe a charming smile. "You know, I have a feeling we're going to be good friends."

Before Marlowe could respond, Sol's hand moved like lightning, and the pouch of credits vanished into his pocket so fast the old man blinked in surprise. Marlowe stared for a second before shaking his head with a chuckle. "You're a real piece of work, kid."

As he stepped out of the shop, he exhaled slowly, his mind already racing through what he had learned. If Marlowe knew something was brewing, then it was only a matter of time before it reached the surface.

But he was ready for whatever it was to come.

With some time to kill, Sol decided to pay a visit to Azuran. The enigmatic merchant had a way of collecting valuable information, and if there was anyone who could shed light on the growing interest in Lover's Bar, it was him. Plus, Sol wouldn't mind a decent drink after all that hauling.

Riding atop Peach, now in his massive form, Sol made his way toward the sector where Azuran's store—and the Cosmic Drift—were located. The pastel, bear-like creature padded through the bustling streets, its size parting the crowd with ease as people gawked or scrambled out of the way. Sol leaned forward lazily, resting his arms on Peach's fluffy head, enjoying the ride. He could feel the rhythmic motion beneath him, almost like riding a living, breathing hovercraft. The deeper he walked into the district, the more the surroundings twisted into something surreal. Holographic billboards flickered with ever-changing advertisements, some in languages he couldn't even begin to decipher. Floating market stalls bobbed gently in midair, held up by gravity-nullifying tech, their merchants shouting out deals from behind their levitating counters. A group of street performers juggled glowing orbs of plasma, each one morphing into a different shape midair before snapping back into their hands.

When he finally reached Azuran's establishment, the storefront shimmered like liquid metal, shifting between shapes as if undecided on its final form. The entrance, an arch of crystalline tendrils, pulsed with a soft, inviting glow. Sol smirked. Even the damn door was dramatic.

Stepping inside, he was met with the familiar sight of Azuran's ever-changing inventory. Sol greeted the merchant with a smile, remembering that time flowed strangely in the Luminara District. What had felt like a month for him had only been a few days for the rest of the ship. The realization made him chuckle—no wonder things still felt fresh, even after all that time. Shelves that hadn't existed last time were now lined with vials of shimmering dust, arcane-looking devices, and strange, bottled lights that pulsed in slow rhythms. The merchant himself was stationed behind the counter, his fluid form lazily shifting between hues of deep blue and silver.

Azuran's voice, smooth as ever, greeted him. "Ah, traveler, back so soon? What knowledge or trade do you seek today?"

Sol leaned against the counter, his expression thoughtful. "I'm looking for information about Lover's Bar. The undercurrents, the history—everything you know. And, of course, what price I'd have to pay for that."

Azuran's liquid form shifted slightly, the silvery hues rippling as he considered the request. "A bold inquiry. One that comes at a cost. But..." His voice deepened in amusement. "It is obvious you have undergone the journey of Luminara. Few do, and even fewer leave as changed as you. The price, traveler, is simple—tell me what you saw."

Sol hesitated. He knew Azuran wouldn't accept lies. And withholding information could turn the merchant's favor against him. Finally, he exhaled. "Deal."

Azuran's form pulsed, satisfied. "Then listen well, for I will tell you what you seek."

Azuran's liquid form pulsed slightly as he began speaking. "Lover's Bar is far older than it appears. It wasn't always just a quiet watering hole—it used to be a hub for information brokers, spies, and off-the-books traders. It was neutral ground, a place where deals were made and debts were settled. But over time, as the ship's districts shifted and changed, the bar was buried under layers of bureaucracy, forgotten by most… except for those who knew its true value."

Sol frowned. "So why is it drawing attention now?"

Azuran's hues darkened. "That is the question, isn't it? Something has stirred the undercurrents, and whispers travel faster than light in places like these. Some say a lost treasure is hidden within its walls. Others believe the old man himself is the key to something much larger. And then there are those who think it's merely paranoia—that powerful people are drawn to places with history, waiting for something to surface."

Sol absorbed the information carefully, filing it away. The idea that the bar was once a neutral ground for high-level dealings made sense, but that didn't explain why it was suddenly under scrutiny. "And the old man?"

Azuran let out a slow ripple, his version of a chuckle. "A mystery even to me, traveler. He has been here for longer than most recall, yet no one truly knows where he came from or what he wants. He's survived things that should have broken lesser men. But one thing is certain—he's not just a simple bartender."

Sol narrowed his eyes, already guessing as much. "And what about the current threats?"

"There are groups moving in the shadows. Some want control. Others simply want to make sure no secrets are left to be uncovered. But you, traveler, have now stepped into that current. Whether you get swept away or ride the wave is up to you."

Sol let out a slow breath, letting the weight of the information settle before finally nodding. He had no intention of being swept away.

"Now, traveler," Azuran continued, his silvery hues shifting again. "It is your turn. What did you see in your journey?"

Sol hesitated. He could lie, but Azuran would see through it. Instead, he chose the same half-truth he had given the old man.

"I saw the birth of something… something divine. A celestial being taking form." He kept his tone neutral, careful not to reveal too much.

Azuran remained still for a long moment before his form pulsed, as if considering something deeper. "Interesting, traveler. Very interesting indeed."