After breakfast, Jack had some time to kill while he waited for Polly to wake and leave her bedroom, where her tailoring supplies were stored. Having nothing better to do, forgetting about his new exercise program, he created more spell scrolls.

  By the time his sister had woken, eaten breakfast, and left the house, it was just shy of eleven o’clock; Jack had managed to finish five more spell scrolls.

  “Finally, she’s gone.” Jack searched through his sister’s messy bedroom for material to use as a makeshift cloak and mask. She had several boxes of material for practising her tailoring skills, some of which were used to create costumes for the play she and her friends were preparing.

  While searching through the boxes for a piece of dark cloth suitable for a hooded cloak, he came across some of the outfits his sister had designed for the play. He vaguely remembered what she’d created. Before him were a flashy outfit for the prince, a bright red hooded cloak for the prince’s evil twin, and a uniform for the prince’s valet.

  Examining the red cloak, Jack muttered, “Shame it isn’t black. That would be perfect.” He frowned at the prince’s outfit next. “Too flashy. Even nobles don’t wear something that bright.” His eyes landed on the plain, dark valet uniform complete with a matching hat. “I could pass as a young noble’s valet selling spell scrolls for my young master.” He examined the hat. “Did you have to make it look so stupid, Polly?” The hat had a peak, a pair of gold coloured bands around the top, and to top it off, a fluffy bobble.

  Deciding on his disguise, he grabbed the valet uniform, and tiptoed through the mess of clothes strewn over the floor. “Does she ever clean up?” he moaned as he stepped over what he prayed was clean underwear before heading back to his room. Since Polly wouldn’t return until well into the evening, he had ample time to return the costume.

  In his room, he tried on the valet uniform. It was a bit tight around the waist, but otherwise it fit well enough. “This will have to do,” he conceded. “I’ll only need it once; after that, I can buy a proper cloak and mask.”

  After changing back into his regular clothes, Jack told his mother he was going out to buy scribe supplies.

  A couple of streets from his home, Jack froze when he saw the two inquisitors and their beastkin guards moving towards another property. “Fuck! They’re still here.” The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. If they scanned him again, would they detect both of his classes? He didn’t know enough about the inquisitor class to be sure whether they could read every class and skill a person had.

  The two inquisitors entered the house leaving their vigilant beastkin guards outside.

  How would I explain two classes? He started walking again, a little more wary than before.

  Navigating the bustling city streets, Jack sought out spell scroll shops to sell his scrolls to; the capital had quite a lot of them. After planning an escape route, he searched for an alleyway to change into his borrowed valet uniform disguise.

  “This place is too busy,” Jack concluded. A small number of aether-powered carriages rolled by, their polished brass chassis gleaming, whisper-quiet against the road. They were driven by uniformed chauffeurs, most bearing the sigils of noble houses or prestigious institutions. Red velvet-lined interiors boasted built-in pressure regulators for comfort, and external valves hissed with spent aether-steam. Unlike traditional carriages, these didn’t clatter or jostle. They hummed, their copper-core propulsion systems fuelled by replaceable, rechargeable aether capsules.

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  Jack caught the scent of perfume and pipe smoke trailing behind one of the aether-powered carriages, the smell of wealth drifting through the working-class air. “I’ve never liked that smell,” he complained. “Stinks of narcissism.”

  Most citizens relied on horse-drawn wagons, their iron rims squealing as they vied for space with clanking delivery carts, some of which were self-driven. Simple constructs enchanted to follow pre-set routes.

  “Move aside, boy,” a deep voice pulled Jack out of his thoughts.

  Two beastkin guards and a noble he recognised walked towards him.

  Jack froze. It was Baron Greaves!

  “Get out the way!” One of the guards shoved him aside.

  Jack stumbled across the cobbled street, bumped into an old woman and almost knocked her over. He caught himself and the old woman before they both fell, but her basket of shopping dropped to the floor. “Sorry. Are you alright?” He looked back towards Greaves and his two guards, his fury rising. I’ll see you all dead.

  “I’m fine,” the old woman answered. “Ignorant nobles,” she added. “Think they own the place.”

  Jack nodded. “Sorry, for almost knocking you over.” He began picking up the spilled items and placed them in the old woman’s basket.

  The woman laughed. “Takes more than a young man to knock me over. I’ll have you know, back in the day I was a well known adventurer.”

  His eyes widened. “Really?” He picked up the basket.

  “Yes. You take me for a liar, son?” The old woman put her hands on her hips.

  “No. I was erm…” He was flustered. “I was surprised.”

  “I ran an adventurer party.” She began to walk while she spoke. Jack had no choice but to follow, he was now carrying her basket.

  For the next thirty minutes, the old woman described the dungeons her and her party had raided while continuing to shop. Jack was now the official basket carrier. Eventually, the old woman stopped in front of a temple dedicated to Nemesis, the Goddess of vengeance, retribution, and balance.

  The old woman took the basket from Jack. “Thank you for listening to this old lady prattle on.” She smiled. “Not many young people these days will take the time to listen.”

  I didn’t really have much choice, Jack thought. “You have some interesting stories,” he replied diplomatically.

  The old woman laughed and walked towards the temple. “Don’t forget to visit Nemesis… She has a temper you know. And look after the little one, you’ll need her on your journey.”

  “What?” Jack replied, but the old woman had already entered the temple. She’s right I should visit. A nearby clock tower’s bell rang to mark the hour. But not right now, it’s already mid-day. He turned on his heels and rushed back towards the spell scroll shop he planned to visit first.

  There was a single lightning flash in the sky followed by a crash of angry thunder.

  Jack stopped and look up expecting rain, but the sky was blue with only wispy white clouds. No rain came. “That’s strange.”

  He continued on his way.

  ***

  Jack paused at the intersection of a busy road next to a market, looking for a suitable place to change. He became distracted when he noticed one of the new sanitation automata cleaning the streets.

  “Hey, I remember those,” Jack muttered with a smile. He was watching a compact, bug-like road sweeper that rolled along on aether-powered wheels. Emitting soft brass chimes as they scrubbed the pavements clean, puffing out pleasant smelling spent aether-steam and whistling cheerful tunes from embedded gramophones. “It’s a shame they never caught on.”

  Street orphans had learned to pry out the aether capsules to sell on the black market, and disgruntled unemployed street cleaners sabotaged the stations that recharged them. Despite their efficiency, the project became untenable long-term.

  It’s too busy here. He’d remembered he was looking for a place to change. Wasn’t there a rarely used… His thoughts were interrupted by a tug. “What the fuck!” He’d felt a clumsy hand tug at his coin purse!