Like before, they went around the market and sold their gains from the hunt. Though they had to queue where the crowd was thick. The reward that Greysnow Guild issued earned them extra this time. They showed the fangs of the Fire Snakes they killed and received ten mana shards. At last, they visited the old man from the spell shop. After the transaction of the Ashes of Death, which earned them six mana shards, he shared his brunch with them.
They chatted, and they ate. When their plates were empty, they bid him farewell again and headed for the vast white-stone plaza. What they wanted to buy here was available in bundles. Almost every stall had a stack of spellcards for sale. Even those who couldn’t create them delved into the business by being a front for other Spellweavers. The market for the spellcards was booming. Because the profession of Spellweaver not only survived the chaos of the world’s ‘death’ and the Exodus, but it also thrived in its aftermath.
Where the moving horde of Magi often stopped and enquired, the trio chose one of those stalls first.
“How do you sell these?” Clay asked, squatting to check the two stacks of spellcards on the stall.
“The neophyte level ones are two cards per shard,” the man sitting behind the stall said. “The pathfinder level is one for one.”
The price he demanded was a premium on the average market value for the spellcards. But because of the uncommonness of the higher mastery stage cards, this man’s stall saw more business than his peers.
“Do you have any adept level cards?” Quin asked.
“I can get you some if you pay in advance,” the man said. “Two mana shards per card. One mana shard in advance payment.”
Thorin shook his head. They hadn’t established any form of trust with the seller to justify the advanced payment, especially when the white-stone plaza was a gathering of lone wolves without any roots.
“What types are these?” Clay asked, pointing at the stacks on his stall.
“For attack, there is Waterbolt, Waterbird, and Waterchain,” the man said. “For defense, there is Waterscreen. And for recovery, there is Watermend and Rejuvenation.”
“Are they all at the same price?” Clay asked.
“Yeah,” the man said. “At my stall, the price will only change with the mastery stage.”
“Should we look around some more?” Quin asked Clay and Thorin.
“You can,” the man said. “But others charge extra for the defense and recovery type spellcards. I don’t. That’s why my products are in high demand.”
“Give us some discount and we’ll buy from you,” Clay said.
“Buy a bunch and I will,” the man said.
Thorin’s control of the field with his chained blades covered for his defense. But apart from his costly
Thorin chose five offensive spellcards, and two defensive spellcards. While Quin and Clay got four defensive spellcards and three offensive spellcards each. Finally, they bought nine Rejuvenation spellcards for recovery and divided them between the three. Since all the spellcards they chose were pathfinder level, the total cost came to thirty mana shards. After the discount that the man promised, the purchase lightened their pouch by twenty-five mana shards.
With the rest of the earnings in his pockets and optimism in his heart, Thorin looked around the plaza for anything that would suit his
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After a short registration at the access desk, the girl with the sweet smile led them into a room so cramped their elbows would brush the walls if they stretched. The man on the other side of the table gestured a hello when they sat and served them water. “The price of the information depends on what you want to ask. Please, go ahead,” he said.
“Southern Whispers,” Clay said. “How much will cost?”
“Fifteen mana shards for a detailed introduction of the place,” the man said. “Along with a recently updated map marked with legends.”
The three had discussed before coming, so they didn’t talk of trust in the information. Since fifteen mana shards remained under their tolerance limit, they agreed. The man talked when he saw the mana shards, and the quill beside him danced on the paper on its own. Thorin lifted his brows in surprise and glanced at him. The man was a Scribe—the class that gave the Paper Arcana whatever value it had today.
At last, when he finished detailing everything about the battlefield, he passed them the freshly inked paper that contained all that he’d spoken and a map.
“Anything else you would like to know?” the man asked, interlocking his fingers with a smile.
“Do you have any information on anything related to Aether?” Clay asked. “Aether House in particular.”
“Aether?” the man asked back. “We do have some vague information related to that. If you want everything on it, it will cost you ten mana shards.”
“Alright,” Clay said, and the other two nodded as well.
Yet again, when the man saw the mana shards, he recited the information. “There used to be a guild in the Whitebridge Kingdom called the Aether Guild. After a clash with another guild, it was completely destroyed some years ago,” the man said. “It was rumored back then that a house backed the guild. This house was called the Aether House. It was also destroyed in that battle. There were no survivors it seems.”
Thorin kept a tight leash on his emotions, and Quin killed his sigh as well. The three cousins let nothing out even when they heard the devastating news.
Absorbed in the dictation, the man continued, “Another information on anything related to Aether would be the Aether River. It’s beyond the Storm Canyon, all the way to the west. It’s said that the family who settled by the river in the early ages of Eldeth named themselves after the river. They carried the name of Aether. The hearsay among the Magi says that one of the old kings of Eldeth who formed the stone council came from that family. There are some rumors that even link the destroyed Aether House in the Whitebridge Kingdom to the Aethers who settled by that river in the west.”
“How do we get to that river?” Clay asked.
“Unless you can survive the chaotic winds of the Storm Canyon, you can't. Since the canyon adopted its current violent form, it has completely severed the east and the west of the Vlauria Continent,” the man said. “The only possible way is to go north into the Shepherds’ country, then west and south, bypassing the canyon. But you’ll have to cross the border for it, and commenting on it falls outside the scope of this request. Or you can try the southern route as well, but you’ll have to sail the lawless waters.”
The three asked for a few more details and exited the bank once they had their mana shards’ worth. Thorin was in a daze as the glare of the sun blinded him. Even the sweet smile and the provocative bow of the desk girl barely registered.
“I told you we’re the last Aethers,” Quin said when they’d walked away enough.
“It’s not certain yet,” Clay said.
“What more do we need to know?” Quin asked. “He said there were no survivors.”
“Then what are we?” Thorin retorted. “I don’t remember much. But if I’m not wrong, the place they took us from was probably that Aether House or the Aether Guild in the Whitebridge Kingdom. I still remember that attack, so that coincides with this information.”
“What about the Aether River in the west?” Clay asked. “He said the Aether House in the Whitebridge Kingdom probably came from there. Even if this house is no more, we can go west to that river.”
“That actually fits our task too,” Thorin said. “We had to go to the Shepherds’ country to complete our task anyway. We can go take a look at the river as well.”
“For now,” Clay said. “Let’s check out the ruins of the Aether Guild and the Aether House. Perhaps we’ll find something there that others haven’t.”
“Well, you guys make a decision on this,” Quin said. “I’ll just follow you two.”
“There’s actually one thing you can do,” Thorin said, looking at Quin. “There was a spell in that old man’s shop called
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