Early Morning – Glazebend Inn
The morning light crept gently through the thin curtains of Joren's room. A soft breeze stirred the corner of a parchment lying on the desk, ink still drying across its surface. Joren sat hunched over the small table, quill in hand, brows furrowed in thought. He was writing letters back to Hazel, Elira and Isla, but he was having some trouble. It took him most of the morning, but he was able to finish it.
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Dear Hazel,
Sorry for not writing back sooner, things got a little busy as of late. After I left the village, the roads to Glazebend took far longer than I had initially thought (I'll have to keep that in mind for the next city I go to).
When I arrived, the city was way bigger than Brindleford that I just followed the crowds of people like a fish. While coasting along, I found this porcelain shop run by the biggest guy you have ever seen, he looks like he could be a blacksmith.
Gus is apparently a bit of a celebrity in the fine dishware world, creating these plates and cups and whatnot that is nearly unbreakable. He is super nice and he let me do some work on his clay wheel, but I don't think it's something worth selling.
I kind of got into a bit of an altercation with another Auspex, but there is nothing to worry about, I'm fine. I kind of saved Gus's shop, so he decided to go along with me on my journey to "Go on tour and spread my name" or something like that. I miss home a lot, but I'm also excited about all this stuff I am seeing.
P.S. Can you let Jargon know how I've been doing? He can get kind of cranky if I'm not around.
Take care,
Joren Merrick
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Dear Elira,
I've been thinking about our talks more than I expected. You once said stars are like music, burning with purpose and composing a story. I guess I've been wondering what kind of story I'm writing out here.
Glazebend is loud and full of color, it truly does deserve the name of Artisan city. I met a man named Gus who makes porcelain tougher than steel, and somehow, he's tagging along with me now. It's a long story (I'll tell it properly someday when I return), but let's just say the universe has a strange sense of humor. I've used my powers more than I wanted to. It scares me how natural it feels sometimes, but I'm not trying to be anything grand. There was a fight and I won, but it didn't feel like winning. I just kept seeing the damage that could've been if I hadn't been there.
You'd probably tell me to breathe, to pay attention to the sky, and to ask better questions. I'm trying my best. I hope Isla's doing well, probably still scribbling on everything in your shop. Tell her the stars here shine different colors, so she should come visit it one day. Take care of each other and I'll write again soon.
Yours truly,
Joren Merrick
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Joren leaned back in the rickety inn chair, stretching his arms with a groan. The ink had dried, and the parchment edges slightly curled from the morning breeze coming through his window. He looked at the folded letters in front of him, happy that he was finally done. One letter for the woman that raised him and one for the woman who helped him look beyond the village. He slid them into their envelopes with care, pressing each seal with a bit of wax and a borrowed stamp from the front desk.
When he stepped outside, the city was already in motion as street vendors sold food and shop bells were heard as doors opened and closed.
Joren weaved through the crowd, heading toward the post station near the city plaza. He found the courier wagon easily enough and he headed inside to drop the letters off. "Two for Brindleford," Joren said, holding the envelopes out. The courier squinted at them, then gave a nod and snatched them from his hand with surprising swiftness. "They'll ride with the westbound satchel train. Should arrive in two or three days." "Thanks," Joren replied, though the man was already turning back to his work.
As Joren stepped back out into the lively bustle of Glazebend, the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cobblestones. The chatter of merchants haggling and the laughter of children echoed through the narrow streets, a vibrant soundtrack to the city's heartbeat. He paused for a moment, letting the energy wash over him before turning toward Gus's shop where the familiar scent of glaze awaited.
Early Morning (at the same time) - Gus's Store
While Joren spent his morning writing letters home and taking some last looks at this beautiful city, Gus had spent his day packing up and convincing his younger sister to take over for a while. Gus stood alone in the quiet shop before it opened for the day, the scent of kiln-fired glaze still lingering in the air. Rows of porcelain gleamed on their shelves, each piece a memory over the years. He traced a finger along a teacup rim. A soft laugh pulled him from his thoughts.
"Lost in your collection again?" His sister stepped out from the backroom, hands on her hips, eyes sharp but amused. Her sleeves were rolled up, specks of clay staining her skin. "You act like these things are alive. They're just cups and plates." She crouched to inspect a delicate vase nearby, tapping it lightly. "Well, I'll take care of them for you regardless. It's about time you got out of this city for a bit. You've been cooped up in this shop since dad retired." He nodded. "Thank you, I felt it was time I spread my work to new places. Don't let the shop fall apart while I'm gone, though, or dad might have to un-retire." She smirked. "No promises, but I'll try." They shared a quiet laugh, the weight of the moment settling between them.
Late Afternoon – Gus's Store
The shop was quiet now, the usual hum of bustling customers replaced by a calm stillness. Gus moved deliberately, packing the last of his items before they planned to depart. His sister watched from behind the counter, wiping her hands on a rag. I hope he has fun out there, he better write back and tell me all about it, she thought. Joren had just arrived, door swinging shut as he entered the store.
"Ready to hit the road?" Gus asked, already putting on his backpack. Joren adjusted his satchel, eyes scanning the shelves one last time. "Yeah, I think so. Feels strange, leaving all this behind." Gus grinned, clapping a heavy hand on Joren's shoulder. "It really is. Out there, it's a whole world waiting to be shaken up by my work and your talent. Next stop is Duskfen, the swamp city." From behind the counter, Gus's sister smiled quietly, watching the two prepare. The weight of farewells lingered, but beneath it all was the spark of adventure; Joren's adventure gained another companion.
Gus adjusted the straps on his satchel, eyes flicking toward the narrow road that led out past the city gates. "Duskfen's a strange place," he said, breaking the silence. "A city half-swallowed by mist and marsh, but they say the craftsmen there have secrets you won't find anywhere else." Joren nodded, adding his reason's for also choosing this city in particular. "Yeah, I heard that they have a library of old charting documents. Maybe they have some history on astronomy there, it could help me figure out some new moves to work on." Gus smiled, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. "New moves, huh? You've come a long way already, kid. I'll be watching your back, so don't think you have to do things alone."
The streets of Glazebend buzzed around them as the city prepared for evening. Lanterns flickered on, casting pools of amber light across the worn stones. Somewhere nearby, a minstrel's lute strummed a gentle melody, mingling with the distant chatter of market stalls closing for the day. Joren took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the journey ahead and the strange excitement that came with it. "Let's get going, it will take a while before we get there." With a final glance back toward the glowing cityscape, the two set off down the road for Duskfen, the city on the swamp.