Chapter 114: Porthaven City

The Artisan’s Rest was its usual bustling self that afternoon, with the clinking of plates, the murmur of conversations, and the occasional melody from a bard who had claimed the corner stage.

Alaric, seated near the window, leaned back in his chair, savoring a warm cup of spiced tea.

Across the table, Iridelle was absorbed in her work, her delicate hands tracing intricate patterns over a fresh set of runes on parchment. Her lips moved soundlessly, likely murmuring arcane calculations to herself.

A courier approached their table, his boots scuffing slightly on the wooden floorboards. “Young Master Alaric?”

Alaric glanced up from his musings, noting the man’s slightly disheveled appearance. “That would be me,” he replied, his tone easy but alert.

The courier handed him a folded letter sealed with dark blue wax. The emblem was unmistakable—Drustan’s. Alaric nodded his thanks and tossed a silver coin into the courier’s palm before turning his attention to the letter.

“Important?” Iridelle asked, her gaze flicking briefly toward the letter before returning to her diagrams.

“Likely,” Alaric muttered, his brows furrowing. The seal broke with a faint crack, and he unfolded the parchment. As his eyes skimmed over the neat, urgent script, his expression darkened.

The letter read:

’We’ve found the auction. Crooked Tankard. Porthaven’s red-light district. Five days from now.

There’s more. Five of our informants—men I trusted—are dead. Killed for what they knew. Be prepared. This is no game.’

“What is it?” Iridelle’s voice was soft but edged with concern.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Alaric replied with a faint smile, though his mind was racing.

’Five days,’ he thought grimly. ’We don’t have much time.’

He stood abruptly, drawing Iridelle’s attention once more. “I’ll be upstairs for a while,” he said, his tone neutral. “Continue with the rune testing for now. I’ll join you shortly.”

Iridelle watched him retreat, her curiosity piqued but wisely unspoken.

~~

In his private chamber, Alaric reread the letter, his mind calculating their next steps. The Crooked Tankard in Porthaven’s red-light district—a fittingly shady location. The timing was tight, but he’d dealt with worse.

’Drustan and Kaelith and even their subordinates are risking everything to keep us informed,’ he mused, his jaw tightening. ’I can’t let their sacrifices or those of the informants go to waste.’

He reached for his writing kit and penned three identical letters to Rowena, Helena, and Petra and through these letters, he was instructing them to cease their training sessions at the warehouse. He explained that he had an urgent matter to attend to and wouldn’t be able to meet with them until the day of the auction. He instructed them to meet him at a discreet location near the Crooked Tankard five days from then, at the time mentioned in the letter.

After sealing the letters, he summoned one of the inn’s staff to deliver them. With that done, he returned to the workshop, a new sense of urgency propelling him.

~~

Iridelle glanced up as he reentered, her quill pausing mid-stroke. “You seem… preoccupied,” she observed, her tone careful.

“Just a lot on my mind,” Alaric admitted, rolling up his sleeves. “But none of it changes what we’re working on. If anything, it makes it even more important that we finish this artifact soon.”

Iridelle’s gaze sharpened. “Then we’d best not waste time,” she said simply, turning her focus back to her runes.

The first day passed in a blur of intense focus. They worked side by side, their efforts complemented by Kara and Ulriya, who ensured they had food and drink to sustain them.

“Try aligning the resonance matrices like this,” Iridelle suggested, leaning over the workbench to point at a section of the artifact’s internal design. Her azure blue hair fell over her shoulder, catching the soft light of the workshop’s enchanted lanterns.

Alaric glanced at her notes, his brow furrowing. “That could stabilize the transmission,” he mused, his fingers already adjusting the intricate components of the artifact. “Good thinking.”

“Thank you,” Iridelle replied, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. Despite her reserved nature, she couldn’t deny the satisfaction of earning Alaric’s praise.

As the hours dragged on, fatigue began to creep into their movements. Kara appeared with a tray of steaming tea and sandwiches, her expression gentle but firm.

“Master Alaric, Lady Iridelle, you must eat,” she insisted, setting the tray down. “You’ve been working nonstop.”

Alaric glanced at Iridelle, who was still muttering about rune configurations. “She’s right,” he said, nudging her gently. “Come on, a quick break won’t kill us.”

Iridelle sighed but complied, joining him at the workbench to eat. Their conversation was light, mostly focused on their progress and next steps.

~~

The second day began with the same relentless energy. Alaric woke early, his mind already running through the modifications they needed to make. Downstairs, Iridelle was already at the workbench, her hair slightly disheveled but her focus unwavering.

“You beat me here,” Alaric said, a hint of amusement in his voice as he entered the workshop.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Iridelle admitted, not looking up from her work. “I kept thinking about the resonance matrices and how we might improve the energy flow.”

“You’re relentless,” Alaric said, a note of admiration in his tone as he approached. “I like that.”

Iridelle finally glanced up, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re not so different, Young Master Alaric.”

As they worked, their dynamic grew increasingly fluid. Alaric found himself relying on Iridelle’s keen insights more and more, while she grew more confident in suggesting ideas.

“Here,” Iridelle said at one point, handing him a small rune-inscribed plate. “This should help with the interference issue.”

Alaric examined the plate, nodding in approval. “This is excellent,” he said, carefully integrating it into the artifact. “You’ve got a real knack for this, Iridelle.”

She flushed at the compliment but quickly refocused on her work.

~~

By mid-afternoon, progress was evident. The artifact’s core functions were beginning to take shape, though there was still much to be done. Kara and Ulriya continued to support them, bringing meals and ensuring they stayed hydrated.

“You know,” Alaric said during one such meal break, “I couldn’t do this without you.”

Iridelle looked up from her plate, startled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Alaric said, gesturing to the workshop, “this artifact wouldn’t exist without your expertise. You’re incredible, Iridelle.”

Her cheeks reddened, and she looked down at her plate, mumbling a quiet “thank you.”

~~

The day ended with a significant breakthrough: the artifact’s recording function was now operational, though it still required fine-tuning. Alaric and Iridelle stood side by side, observing their work with a mix of pride and exhaustion.

“This is good progress,” Alaric said, his voice tinged with satisfaction. “We’re getting there.”

Iridelle nodded, her eyes heavy with fatigue but alight with determination. “We’ll finish it, Young Master Alaric. I know we will.”

“Rest up,” Alaric said as they began to tidy up for the night. “Tomorrow’s another long day.”

Iridelle nodded, stifling a yawn. As she left the workshop, Alaric lingered for a moment, his gaze lingering on the half-finished artifact.

’Two days down,’ he thought. ’Three to go. We’re cutting it close, but we’ll make it.’

He extinguished the lanterns and made his way upstairs, his mind already planning the next day’s work. As he lay in bed, sleep came slowly, his thoughts filled with the weight of what was to come.

The sun barely crept over the horizon when Alaric strode into the workshop, his eyes still heavy with sleep but his determination unwavering. Kara had left a steaming cup of tea on the workbench, alongside a small note that simply read, “Stay strong.” He smiled faintly at the gesture, taking a sip as he surveyed the room. Iridelle had beaten him to the workshop again, her hunched figure illuminated by the faint glow of rune-bound lamps.

“You’re going to wear yourself out if you keep this up,” Alaric said, setting his cup down with a clink.

Iridelle glanced up, her face framed by wisps of loose hair and dark smudges under her eyes. “I could say the same to you, Young Master,” she replied, a teasing note in her usually reserved tone. “Besides, we’re on a schedule.”

“Fair enough,” Alaric admitted, rolling up his sleeves. “Let’s get to it.”

The third day was a blur of precision work and tense discussions.

“We need to fix the energy stability issue first,” Alaric said, gesturing to a crystalline core in the artifact. “It’s burning through too much mana too quickly.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Iridelle said, pulling out a fresh blueprint. She pointed to a series of interconnected runes near the core. “What if we inscribe dampening runes here? It’ll regulate the mana flow and reduce the strain on the core.”

Alaric studied the diagram for a moment, then nodded. “That could work. Good thinking.”

As the hours ticked by, the atmosphere in the workshop grew more intense. Kara and Ulriya continued their quiet support, bringing meals and drinks without interrupting.

“Master Alaric,” Kara said gently during one of their rare breaks, “you need to rest your hands. You’ve been working nonstop.”

Alaric flexed his fingers, the joints stiff from hours of fine crafting. “I’ll be fine,” he assured her, though his exhaustion was evident.

Iridelle glanced over from her corner, her brow furrowed. “She’s right. You’ll make mistakes if you’re too tired.”

“Pot calling the kettle black,” Alaric quipped, smirking. “You’ve been running on fumes since yesterday.”

Iridelle huffed but didn’t argue. Instead, she slid a plate of sandwiches closer to him. “Eat, at least. You’ll need the energy.”

By the evening of the third day, they had resolved several critical issues with the artifact. The recording function was smoother, and the range had been extended significantly.

“It’s starting to come together,” Alaric said, leaning back in his chair to stretch. “But we’re not out of the woods yet.”

Iridelle nodded, her gaze fixed on the artifact. “The transmission clarity still needs work. There’s too much interference at longer distances.”

“We’ll tackle that tomorrow,” Alaric said, rubbing his temples. “For now, let’s get some sleep. We’ll need fresh minds for the next phase.”

Iridelle hesitated, her fingers twitching as if reluctant to leave the work unfinished. But she finally relented, gathering her notes and heading for the door. “Goodnight, Young Master,” she said softly.

“Goodnight, Iridelle,” Alaric replied, watching her go.

The fourth day began with a renewed sense of urgency. Alaric and Iridelle threw themselves into the task, their conversations quick and to the point.

“We need to inscribe resonance runes directly onto the receiver,” Iridelle suggested as she sketched a new diagram. “It’ll filter out ambient magical interference.”

“That’s risky,” Alaric said, frowning. “If we miscalculate, it could destabilize the entire system.”

“I’m confident it’ll work,” Iridelle insisted, her eyes blazing with determination. “Trust me.”

Alaric studied her for a moment before nodding. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

The process was painstaking, requiring absolute precision. Iridelle held her breath as Alaric carefully etched the runes onto the tiny receiver plate, his hands steady despite the pressure.

“There,” he said finally, sitting back with a sigh of relief. “Let’s test it.”

Iridelle activated the artifact, and the receiver hummed softly. They exchanged a tense glance before testing the transmission.

“Testing, one, two, three,” Alaric said, speaking into the artifact.

The device emitted a clear reproduction of his voice, free of distortion or interference.

“It worked!” Iridelle exclaimed, a rare smile lighting up her face.

Alaric grinned, his fatigue momentarily forgotten. “Told you we’d get there.”

The fifth day dawned with an air of anticipation. Alaric and Iridelle knew this was their last chance to perfect the artifact before the auction. They worked in near silence, their focus absolute.

“Let’s finalize the casing,” Alaric said, holding up a piece of polished metal. “It needs to be durable but lightweight.”

“I’ve already designed a protective rune array,” Iridelle said, handing him another blueprint. “It’ll shield the artifact from physical damage and minor magical interference.”

“Brilliant,” Alaric said, already integrating the design.

The final hours were a blur of activity. They fine-tuned the artifact’s functions, inscribed the last runes, and assembled the components into a sleek, cohesive device.

As the sun began to set, they stepped back to admire their work. The artifact—a palm-sized device made of polished metal and etched with intricate runes—rested on the workbench, humming softly with latent magical energy.

“We did it,” Alaric said, his voice tinged with awe. He picked up the device, turning it over in his hands. It was a masterpiece, a testament to their combined efforts and ingenuity.

Iridelle sank into a chair, her exhaustion giving way to quiet pride. “It’s… incredible,” she murmured.

Alaric nodded, a wide smile spreading across his face. “It’s more than that. This little device is going to change everything.”

“What are you going to call it?” Iridelle asked, her curiosity breaking through her fatigue.

Alaric hesitated, his thoughts swirling. Finally, he said, “I think I’ll call it… the ’Phone.’ Or maybe ’Mobile Phone.’”

Iridelle tilted her head, puzzled. “What does that mean?”

Alaric explained, offering a mysterious smile. “It means… a device for communicating over long distances.”

“It’s a fitting name,” Iridelle said, nodding slowly. She was too tired to think anything. She was just glad that they had finally finished the artifact.

Alaric looked at the device again. This small device, this ’Phone’, was going to change everything. He knew it in his heart. The world was about to enter a new era of communication, an era that he had ushered in. He thought to himself, ’This is just the beginning. This is just the first step.’

~~

Having finally completed the “Phone,” Alaric felt a surge of adrenaline. The time for preparation was over; the time for action had arrived. He knew he had to reach Porthaven before midnight, the time specified by Drustan’s message.

He quickly packed a small bag with essential items, including some spare parts for the Phone and a few vials of potent potions. He then bid a hasty farewell to Iridelle, who was still admiring the newly created device.

“I have to leave on urgent business,” he explained, his voice hurried. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but please continue to test the device. If you encounter any problems, make a detailed record of them.”

Iridelle nodded, her brow furrowed with concern. “Be careful, Young Master Alaric,” she murmured.

“I will,” Alaric reassured her, offering a quick smile. He then left the inn, heading straight to the stables.

He saddled his fastest horse, a sleek black stallion named Nightwind, and quickly mounted. With a sharp kick to the horse’s flanks, he urged it into a gallop, leaving the Artisan’s Rest behind.

He knew that the journey to Porthaven would take several hours, even at a full gallop. He needed to arrive before midnight, and time was of the essence. He decided to enhance Nightwind’s speed with a simple but effective magic spell.

He muttered a short incantation, channeling a surge of magical energy into the horse. Nightwind’s muscles tensed, and his hooves pounded the ground with increased force, the wind whistling past Alaric’s ears as they sped along the road.

The journey was long and tiring, but Alaric pressed on, his mind focused on the mission ahead. He reached the outskirts of Porthaven just an hour before midnight, the city’s lights twinkling in the distance. He slowed Nightwind to a trot, allowing the horse to catch its breath.

He dismounted near a secluded grove of trees, a short distance from the city’s red-light district, where the Crooked Tankard was located. He had pre-arranged this as a rendezvous point with Rowena, Helena, and Petra.

As he approached the grove, he saw three figures cloaked in dark robes waiting for him. He recognized their silhouettes immediately. It was Rowena, Helena, and Petra.

“You’re here,” Rowena said as he approached, her voice soft.

“Just in time,” Alaric replied, offering a reassuring smile.

“Drustan and Kaelith were here earlier,” Helena informed him. “They told us that they have the entire red-light district surrounded. Their agents are positioned in various locations, including some of the bars near the Crooked Tankard.”

“They told us to create a significant commotion if we needed assistance,” Petra added, her voice calm and measured.

Alaric nodded, understanding the plan. Drustan and Kaelith were covering their bases, ensuring that they had a backup plan in case things went wrong.

“Did they mention anything about the auction itself?” Alaric asked.

“Only that it’s being held in a private room on the second floor of the Tankard,” Rowena replied. “Access is restricted to those with invitations.”

“Alright,” Alaric said, his expression turning serious. “It’s time to get into character.” He looked at the three women. “Are you wearing the attire we selected?”

The three women exchanged glances, their cheeks flushing slightly. They nodded in unison.

“Good,” Alaric said. “Then let’s remove these robes. It’s time to show them what a wealthy collector’s… companions look like.”

The women hesitated for a moment, their hands hovering over the clasps of their robes. They were still slightly uncomfortable with the revealing nature of the clothing they were wearing underneath.

Alaric noticed their hesitation and offered a reassuring smile. “Remember,” he said, his voice gentle but firm, “this is all part of the act. We need to be convincing. Don’t break character, no matter what happens, unless our identities are compromised.”

The women nodded, taking a deep breath and quickly removing their robes. Alaric’s eyes widened slightly as he took in their appearance.

Rowena was wearing a dress of shimmering silk that barely covered her curves. The fabric clung to her body like a second skin, revealing the delicate lines of her figure. The dress had a deep neckline that exposed a generous amount of cleavage, and a high slit that revealed her long, toned legs.

Helena was wearing a top made of intricate lace that revealed a generous expanse of her chest. The top was paired with a tight-fitting skirt that accentuated her long legs and curvaceous hips. The skirt also had a high slit that went up to her thigh.

Petra was wearing a dress of dark, flowing fabric that clung to her curves, revealing her figure beneath. The dress had strategically placed slits that revealed flashes of skin with every movement. The dress was backless, revealing her smooth, tanned back.

Alaric had to admit, they looked stunning. They were the epitome of sultry allure, the perfect companions for a wealthy collector. He knew that their appearance would turn heads and draw attention, which was exactly what they needed.

He then reached into his bag and pulled out the enchanted mask he had crafted. He placed it over the lower half of his face, the mask conforming perfectly to his features. He then activated the locking enchantment, ensuring that the mask could not be removed without his permission.

“Alright,” he said, his voice now slightly muffled by the mask. “Let’s go. Remember our roles. I am your Master, and you are my… companions. Act accordingly.”

The three women nodded, their expressions now confident and seductive. They had fully embraced their roles, their initial nervousness replaced by a sense of excitement and anticipation.

They left the grove of trees, heading towards the red-light district, their figures moving gracefully through the shadows. The air was thick with the sounds of music, laughter, and drunken revelry. The streets were lined with brightly lit establishments, each offering its own brand of entertainment.

They reached the Crooked Tankard, a dimly lit pub with a rough and tumble atmosphere. The sound of raucous laughter and clinking glasses spilled out into the street. Alaric took a deep breath, steeling his nerves. It was time to enter the lion’s den.