Chapter 1
"In lands beyond knowledge, a defiant young woman ventured into the unknown, not for gold or fame, but for a thirst for adventures and hidden answers. This is the legacy of those who seek their destiny beyond the drawn horizon."
Excerpt from "Path of the Wanderer" by Eldrin the Traveler
The metallic commotion of the chronomats woke me up. My room, quite deteriorated for being on Maestres Avenue, one of the most decent streets in Horocrest, had become a burden. Finding a job that wasn't the corner between the tavern and the alley of the bank was becoming an impossible task. I could hear the bustle of the market two streets down. The wind brought the aroma of bread and roasted meats that seeped through my half-open window. It was a hot summer.
The bathroom was part of the room itself, a tiny rectangle where the cracks in the walls made it unwelcoming. But it was what I had and I was thankful for it. I freshened up as best as I could and put on the travel clothes I had been wearing for several weeks. My boots were dirty so I cleaned them with a moldy rag that had been in the same place since I arrived and I was ready to avoid the doorman. He had knocked on my door a couple of times yesterday, asking for the Crown I owed him since last week.
It wasn't hard to avoid him as he got entangled talking with the dubious-occupation tenants that filled the hostel. I slipped past them, some of them taller than me despite probably being my age. A couple of seconds later I was already on the street. The radiant sun was burning, it was midday. The horse-drawn carriages passed at full speed, hardly respecting any traffic rule. The smell of urine from the corners mixed with the food smell, which previously entered through my window, made me wrinkle my face. I was always astonished to see the huge mechanical exoskeletons created by the clockmakers.
“Watch out, young lady!” shouted that man.
“I'm sorry”
I was in the path of his creation, dragging a cart full of metallic scrap. The contraption left a small trail of black smoke, leading me to deduce, despite my limited knowledge, that it was an Igniexoskeleton. It emitted heat and in its chest burned energy, "If that's how they worked." Its metallic steps made the ground vibrate, as its nearly two meters made it quite heavy. Dark bronze in color and with a body full of slits, they were, a bit... terrifying.
I crossed the street, making sure not to be in the middle of another exoskeleton, and planted myself at the door of that tavern. The Nettle Nest. There was a large ornate sign at the top of the facade, with nettles carved into the wood. My hands were sweaty when I put my hand on the knob. I dried them on my skirt, taking a breath and trying to eliminate my anxiety when I heard shouts. It was too early for the drunks who usually gathered there in the mid-afternoon.
When I opened the door, the change of atmosphere was immediate. The midday light was left behind, and I was enveloped in the cozy gloom of the tavern. The air was impregnated with the aroma of old wood and a touch of pipe smoke. The oak tables, worn by years of use, were irregularly scattered across the creaky plank floor.
A series of candles and oil lamps cast dancing shadows on the walls, where blurry portraits and clockmaking tools hung. Although it was early and I did not expect it, some regulars already occupied usual corners, immersed in their conversations and drinks. The bustle was constant, a mix of chats and occasional laughter.
But my attention, like everyone else's, shifted to the altercation in the center of the room. Two men, one sitting in a chair with a black robe not uttering a word and the other standing, with a bushy beard waving his fist in the air. They were quite strong insults that would have made my own father run out of the establishment, but I stayed. I was catching my breath when the bartender made a resigned gesture, indicating that I should approach the bar while he handled the situation.
Who do you think you are, you don't know what I'm capable of!" said the bearded man, fist raised.
"Sir, you are wasting my time and I don't have much of it," the one who was sitting gave me the creeps.
That man wore a black robe with silver decorations, very pretty, but not as much as his face. He seemed young but had unnatural wrinkles on his face, as if he aged suddenly. It was hard to explain.
"And on top of that, he is a bloody show-off!" that man raised his arm to punch him.
I covered my face with my hands.
"Orlov, enough already!" I jumped at the bartender's shout.
He came out from behind the bar. My breathing was cut short by the tension of the moment. He went to the table and took the man out of the establishment. Even offering resistance, the bartender removed him almost effortlessly. He was monumental, his arms were almost bigger than me and he had to duck his head when passing through the door. I settled on the stool and dried my hands on my dress again. Lately, they were sweating too much.
The man in black looked at me and I startled a little. He took a pocket watch from inside the robe and glanced at it for a moment. It was, how to say it, irrational. The hands were made of black smoke, and the internal mechanism could be seen perfectly. Made of copper and tin with small golden inlays. Despite everything, it was beautiful.
"Put that away and don't let me see you again, out of my tavern!"
The bartender entered, making the wooden floor creak. The shout startled me again. The man put it away and after getting up and winking at me, which made me wrinkle my nose, he left through the door. I took a deep breath. "<<I shouldn't have come in here>>." A thousand things were going through my mind, but I had to prove to myself that I could do it, that I was free.
"I'm sorry, young lady. What can I get you?" apologized the bartender.
"I... I better go."
"Wait, woman, there's no need, those two won't come back here. Are you hungry? Do you want to eat something?"
He seemed quite calm and my heart rate reduced, he had a velvety voice that calmed. I looked at his arms again and then at his face. A thick mustache and a big nose. He had dark green eyes that shone now and then by the reflection of the sun through the windows.
"Tell me, what can I get you?"
"Actually, I came to look for a job," I said as confidently as I could.
"Work? You? How old are you?"
Always. They. Asked. It. I hated it. My height didn't help but neither did I look like a child. It had been a while since I reached the age of majority. I crossed my arms and frowned.
"Twenty. Is that a problem?" maybe I had gone too far.
"Okay, okay..." he laughed—"And what can you do?"
"I can cook, scrub, sew, sing..." I knew how to do many things, but I had to lie if I wanted the job—"wash, clean vomit... Scrub?" I had already said that.
The bartender raised his eyebrows in surprise at the number of tasks I could perform and who knows how many were true. He laughed again exaggeratedly. And now it was me who arched an eyebrow.
"And serve tables?"
"I could do it. Yes," I was as sure as the sky was red.
He narrowed his eyes and looked at me for a moment. I was still crossed arms, trying to look confident in myself. Maybe it had served for something. After running his hand through his greasy medium-brown hair, he snorted gracefully and leaned on the bar.
"Alright. You start tomorrow, BUT"—he raised a finger—"You will only earn a Shilling a day. Until I see how you perform. We offer accommodation to employees, but it will be deducted from your salary. You have..."
I had already completely changed my posture. My look went from angry to perplexed and without realizing it my arms had uncrossed and I was clenching my fists with excitement.
"Yes!" I said cutting him off before he changed his mind.
He was surprised and the laughter again, which made me laugh too. He extended his huge hand to me and I shook it.
"Deal. You start tomorrow, so you'll meet Mira and she can help you with everything"—he hit his forehead with the lower part of his hand—"So much rush and we haven't even introduced ourselves. My name is Wilfred Nettleback, proud owner of The Nettle Nest. Nice to meet you..."
"Liora Ashworth"—I smiled sincerely—"Nice to meet you, Mr. Nettleback, and thank you for the opportunity."
"Please, call me Wil. Everyone does. Mr. Nettleback was my father"—he copied my smile
"Okay... Wil"—it was weird to call him by his first name. Not because he was my new boss, but because I didn't know him. "Can I start today?"
"Today?"
"The truth is I need the money and the sooner I show you what I'm worth... the better, right?"—I was euphoric which made me blurt out the first thing that came to my mind.
The laugh was starting to go from funny to impertinent as he laughed at everything. Wil looked at me approvingly and tapped the bar a couple of times.
"At six o'clock sharp, girl, be punctual."
I nodded, relieved. Finally, I had done it. After so many weeks facing loneliness, and although I didn't go hungry, I would be lying if I said I didn't desperately need this job. When I left the tavern, the contrast between the gloom of the interior and the bright light of the exterior made me blink a couple of times. The street, bathed in sunlight, which was still at its highest point, was a hive of activity.
Street vendors proclaimed their merchandise, from fresh fruit to magical artifacts. "<<Are they real?>>" Pedestrians moved quickly among the stalls and shops. The air vibrated with the hammering of the blacksmiths and the whistling of the steam machines.
I looked up at the buildings that rose on both sides of the street. It was a diverse assortment of ancient and modern architecture, where stone facades intermingled with metal structures and glass panels. On some balconies, flowers hung in pots, adding a touch of color to the industrial palette of the city.
As I walked, I came across groups of children running and playing among the mechanical exoskeletons, which unloaded goods with almost poetic precision. In the distance, the constant buzzing of the factories mixed with the murmur of the crowd, creating the symphony, which for me, was already characteristic of Horocrest.
I reflected in the window of a store with a clothing facade with a lot of clothes hanging and mannequins dressed. "<<What a disgusting clothes>>." I put my hand in my small coin purse and, after counting them by touch, I deduced that I might have enough for the prices I saw on the paper tags.
The store was huge judging by its facade. I had to stretch my neck to see the cloth counters that ran around the perimeter of the room. Fabrics in muted and vibrant colors, tacky yellows, and wonderful greens and purples. There were more mannequins inside, in sections, as I could decipher. Gala clothes, work clothes, of... Combat? There was a section with tunics and leather-studded armor that covered the chest and thighs. They were... interesting.
"Can I help you, pretty?" The lady scared me by touching my shoulder with a bony finger. "From what I see, yes..."
I nodded, she wasn't wrong when she looked me up and down with a look of disgust. Certainly, I was ragged, but there was no need to be so expressive.
"Follow me this way. I hope you bring money, one can donate clothes but you can't live on air. And I've already met this month's quota. You do bring some, right?" she said, stopping and lowering her glasses a bit, resting them on her hooked nose.
"Yes, ma'am. I think I have enough."
"Well, I'll decide that" She chewed a couple of times on something I didn't want to know what it was and continued guiding me through endless hallways "Be careful there."
She said, raising a finger. I quickly ducked when a wooden box passed inches from my nose. It was an exoskeleton moving merchandise that radiated another type of energy. Its core was blue and did not emit smoke, it made almost no noise. The same color as those I had seen in the streets, but this one was more cared for and I could say that polished.
"It's Gelt, it's functional, but the hydrophilic combustion, you know what it has. I can't have an exoskeleton releasing smoke and stinking up my fabrics."
I had no idea what hydrophilic combustion was, but I kept walking after her. After a couple of minutes of dancing through the hallways while she touched the fabrics and told me how beautiful they would look in this or that garment, we arrived at a section full of beautiful dresses. I was left speechless, I had only seen that luxury at the parties of the palaces of Aeternis.
"Which one do you like the most, young lady?" she pointed to one that I loved—"This one?"
It was indigo in color with lace inlays and a neckline that was too pronounced.
"I love it... but I'm just looking for everyday clothes, sorry" I said embarrassed.
"And you couldn't have told me before? Time is gold, girl."
If she would stop talking like a parrot maybe I could have, but before I knew it I was following her through the hallways. This time I avoided Gelt with skill, I ducked my head predicting its movement and I noticed some black tunics, in a section that was almost hidden. They were the same as the man with the watch.
"Ma'am, what are those tunics for?" I pointed them out without any hesitation.
"For the monks of Aethar, for his name's sake, where do you come from, girl?"
"I'm not from here. I'm from Aeternis" I answered with some anger.
"Uhm... poor thing. Well, those tunics are the ones usually worn by the monks of the Abbey of our lord Aethar."
"<<So, he was a monk>>"
"And do they usually carry weird watches?" I asked, already in my investigative mode.
"Girl, those watches are their Arcanixes" She lowered her glasses again to look at me "Do you know what an Arcanix is?"
"Yes ma'am"—I didn't.
"Thank goodness, not even in that nation of deniers can rationality be eliminated. Very well" She put her hand on her hip and pointed out four models, much better than that beautiful dress.
"Are they discreet enough?" she said putting her nail between her teeth.
"Yes, ma'am, thank you very much."
I decided on some brown leather pants that fit my thighs with the occasional hidden pocket that at that moment seemed useful to me. And a simple white long-sleeved shirt that wouldn't make me hot.
"Vulgar," said the woman when she saw me in the clothes "Are you going to incinerate the old clothes? For a couple more Shillings we do it here."
"Just the clothes, please."
The woman shrugged her shoulders and, after paying, I left with my new clothes, although keeping my boots. They were very comfortable to get rid of them, as dirty as they were.
Sure enough, I didn't feel so hot anymore. I threw the old dress in a small garbage can and saw the huge clock in the square. It was four o'clock and I still had time to go for my things at the hostel and return to the tavern to start my shift. But my attention was diverted to a familiar figure: the man in the black robe. Or someone who looked like him, or maybe another monk. But he turned his face and there was no doubt, it was him.
He moved quickly through the crowd, almost like a shadow among the multitude. Something about him intrigued me, maybe the way he had handled the altercation at the tavern or that strange watch he had taken out. Now I knew it was his Arcanix, or whatever that was. No doubt I would find out. Moved by curiosity, I decided to discreetly follow him, keeping a prudent distance.
I walked behind him, passing through narrow streets and bustling squares, always amazed by the diversity and dynamism of Horocrest. Every corner revealed something new: a clockmaker hammering on a large piece of metal, children playing with small automatons, or a group of street artists playing a catchy melody. But nothing distracted me from him.
Finally, the man in the black robe stopped in front of a rundown building, away from the main hustle and bustle. The place looked abandoned, with broken windows and dilapidated doors. I watched as he took something out of his robe, looking at something in it before disappearing into the building. He went inside but something fell from his robe with a slight metallic click. The man continued his way without realizing he had lost something.
I stopped and looked at the object on the ground. It was the watch. That same irrational-looking watch, with black smoke hands, that he had taken out at the tavern. I hesitated for a moment. "<<Should I return it? No.>>" But curiosity overcame caution. I bent down and picked it up. It was heavier than I expected, and its design was more fascinating up close. The black smoke hands moved with ethereal grace, and the intricate gears inside emitted a soft hum.
As I examined it, a strange feeling overcame me. It was as if the watch was alive, beating with an energy I couldn't understand. I realized that I couldn't just leave it there or return it to the man just like that. There was something about that watch, something that called to me. I kept it and took one last look at the rundown building. I had no intention of going in further or following the man, not at that time.
I walked back through the streets of Horocrest, feeling the weight of the watch against my leg. I knew I had made an important decision, although I couldn't anticipate the consequences of my actions. For now, I had to prepare for my first shift at the tavern, but something told me that the watch was going to change my life in a way I couldn't yet imagine.
