“There, humanfriend Euca. The door would lead you back to the waiting room.”

“Thank you, Lady Crystal.” Finally, rest, he sighed. The life and death stuff was you knew, something, the big secret was quite a curio too. But what really took the second wind of his second wind’s second wind was the fact that his feet were on his last leg, if you would pardon the pun. 

But then, just as he wanted to pronounce the finality of their meet — their final goodbye (at least for today), his feet screeched to halt. Just a clack, a stop in his metal-lined shoes rang through the hollow space; a realization most terrible was dawning upon him. “...will you came with us?” He managed to say, trailing. He flinched, it came a bit too throaty, too hopeful. Too weak. But considering that much hush and hullabaloo when he had come to the sprites private alcove, well, if the Lady herself came, he wouldn’t need to parlay all of the inquiries all those people outside would surely have. 

If it was two hours ago, he’d gladly entertain them. Leaving crumbs, name-dropping at the right time, alluding to something bigger than himself, that he was involved too — the like. You know, up-up social-climbing repartee while maintaining a mysterious, untouchable newcomer persona. After all, networking was something he sorely needed, being in another world and all. And if he was not rat-raced tired, he’d jump up to the chance. He’d hate himself the night after, but he’d do it. He’d do it. 

Yet after that inhumane trekking up and down all that he really, really wanted, was just a simple sleep. So here he was, gazing her with, well, hope. Hope that was shattered by her next sentence.

“Unfortunately, no.” she shook her head, broke his heart. Almost mocking how her flowing green tea and cobalt blue chamise fluttering. Like it was not her side that would cause him trepidation that surely came on outside. Oh well, a deal was a deal. He just needed to prepare [Calm Emotion] better next time. “Perhaps next time you visit.” she smiled, continuing his perceived offhandedness and summarily passed back through the wall. 

Her milky rose skin was no more. 

“Well, Clar.” he stared around to the empty, now emptier, moss-lit, hallway. “It seems now is just you and me, huh.” he smiled, hiding his tiredness. “So how about we take that rest?”

“Okay!” the girl beamed. Her chin up. At least there was one good thing. Clar was getting better, and it’d be six pm in one — hmm, fifty eight minutes. Then as soon the dusk fell, he’d literally race toward the dock and get all — all of this over with.

“They that have fate… They that bring light…. ugh...” So much of getting it over with. Arriving at the end wall, he frowned — stumped by the geometric. The wide, twice of his height inscription was the purported gate to the room outside. Which his newly given (well, paid for service rendered) gem was a key for. To open it he needed to put the gem inside this teardrop indentation and say the passphrase out loud. But for the love of God, he couldn’t remember it. 

Groaning, he rummaged the hastily-scribbled parchment from the inventory’s lower rung slot, pulling it out.

Cleaning the little dust that accumulated on the indent with his sleeves, he nodded as the grime-layered runemark returned to its copper glow. Lifting the parchment left side, he pushed the gem — the teardrop inside.

And in whisper and squint, he spoke the phrase.

“They that have faith in the advent of Her Light shalt be harbored; they shalt see that succor would be given freely from the fate’s tyranny.”

Click.

Click.

Click. Click. Click

...Click.

Brrrrrr.

“Finally…”

“We’re out, master!”

“Yes we do.” he smiled wanly, before pushing himself to pick it up a bit. Last last wind. Then it would finally end. “Come on! Let see if the ship ready. If not then we could take a rest before—”

“—Master Euca?”

His smile froze, turning his head in cliche slow motion, he saw him standing. The white-clothed usher. Three meters. Three meters in front of him and Clar. Behind them, the brrr, brrr of the sliding door was still humming. Creak, creak, the gear was whirring. 

How? 

How could the man be here? He distinctly remembered, quoted in verbatim that the negligent Crystal Lady had said that this room was an ‘...empty waiting room. It used to be occupied by the previous caretaker, but since he finished his duties twenty summers ago, the room had been empty since.’ 

So, how?

Ah. Of course. The man’s right hand. White-gloved and buttoned, it held a ...jug. Standard size, long curve on the spout, and the lid with ramekin-like pattern — the man was holding a meil kettle. 

Very understandable, very understandable. He meant what kind of self-respecting employees didn’t use the ‘provided facility’ of their employer? The man must use the water from this room’s pond-slash-mini-waterfall as his exclusive meil water. Good choice, he applauded. If he did that on the room he was trusted to well, that would be too obvious. 

Apparently, that was why his skin was so supple even though he was supposed to be more, well, ...more aged. He had been wondering for a while now if the gray-haired man was half-elf or something. 

“Ah… Sir… Sargei! Hello!” he managed to say, pushing Clar’s shoulder so they could exit the hallway more ...promptly. The barest of barest damage control. He didn’t even bother trying to stop the man from seeing the closing door. He meant what he was going to do. Standing and trying to block his vision? That’d be both utterly useless and insulting to all the parties involved. So frozen smile and hastened step. Frozen smile and hastened step all the way. 

However, as the room’s door finally clicked and latched, the rune burst to still, he realized that the man’s eye wasn’t even on the door. No. Somehow the door was not as interesting to whatever thing his eyes were drawn —locked into. Something. Something …around him. It wasn’t Clar, yet it also wasn’t him. Not his whole person at least. If that was the case his gaze would be locked to his face. But the fact that their eyes didn’t meet clearly indicated that it was something else entirely. So what was it? As he and Clar arrived where the man stood, he followed, slowly but followed his line of sight. His blinking, bleary, wide-eyed, hazel eyes were drawn to… to… to his midriff?

His midriff? What in the hell name was so interesting about his mid— oh, good merciful lord!

Of course, of course. Why it should stop at the door? Why not, he didn’t know, also forgot to return the secret gem back to his inventory? 

Why not?

“What a coincidence, Sir!” he said, his teeth clenched, slowly palming the offending hand into a close, lamenting as the uselessness of that action. “I thought there still a—”

“—Master Euca.”

“...yes, Sir Sargei?”

“Would you like to return to — to the main chamber?” the man dropped his head slightly, bringing the kettle to his chest level, his voice understandably shaky. Like his own heart.

“To—today’s work is almost done.” the man pushed a smile. “Now I believe Mr. — yes, Mr. Donovan is holding a lecture on how to properly care a Marsi-Grassi!” he said, trembling. “If you’re interested of course, Master Euca.”

“Yes, yes. Of course. Of course, I’m interested, Sir.” he replied, equally shaky. “L—Lead the way!” 

“Right this way.”

“So about this Marsi-Grassi,” he said, putting the gem to his inner pocket while trying — trying to hold his tears from streaming river. “What is that exactly?”

“It’s a perviolens, Master Euca. One of the best there is.”

“A perwhat, now?”

“Perviolens! The nose’s joy? Surely you have heard it Master Euca?”

“Ah, I’m afraid not, Sir Sargei.”

“...ah? W—well, then you’ve been missing! All perviolens were like a good stew. Delicious but for the smell. Good Marsi particularly has the most marvelous — marvelous scent that only a full-bloom Eanu could eclipse. Of course since the pink pod is too atrocious to grow, most of us in the seats preferred Marsi. Granted some weekly pruning is required, but once you properly cared them, Master Euca, a hundred steps around your home would be so fragrant, Rhopis may even come unannounced!”

“I see, I see!”

“Ah, here we are, Master Euca.” the man’s non-kettle-holding hand pointed toward a little door in front of him. The latch was in a lock position. “Shall I announce you?” the usher unlocked the latch for him.

“No.” he smiled. “that wouldn’t be necessary, Sir. Although, if you know when a return ship would be available…”

“Mooring March would be available at the half bell after sundown, Master Euca.”

“Ah, not at the 18th?” he said, raising his eyebrow. That was odd. Dusk at Ar’endal had been shifting earlier and earlier as the monsoon ended. He remembered that just yesterday the sundown was at 17:25, or was it 17:28? Before 17:30 that he was sure. This was almost an hour of delay. Why?

“I assured you, Master Euca, our fellow upstanding citizens here as concerned as you are. There are few that are in a similar situation as you. Their families waiting at the temporary tent. However the Hightown requires us to give them at least this much time. It’s most unfortunate but there are bound to be some ...complications even when this incident passed us most amicably.” 

Oh right — of course. Injured people. God, fire and ...rubbles. It’d be amazing if no one actually died. The town must want to make sure the perimeter was safe and no desperate—crazed people running about…

Which of course, considering what they had witnessed remained a non-zero possibility.

“I understand, thank you, Sir Sargei.”

“Your welcome Master Euca, please,” he said drawing the door open, light from the hall flooded in.

“And, Master Euca”

“Yes, Sir Sargei?”

“Do not show it to anyone.”

“Ah?”

Before he managed to ask him what he meant by that (stupid he knew) the man had bowed and smiled, locking the door once more with an audible click. Leaving him stood there with a burning question in his mind: could the usher be trusted? 

He rummaged his inner pocket, stroking the smooth gliding layer, feeling its pinpricking edge. Steeling his smile and making sure he was unseen this time, he opened the inventory window, and for once and for all put the gem inside. The feeling was immediate, his burgeoning mana slackened, weakened to normal.

The thing was, the deal wasn’t supposed to include the gem, but his ‘information’ apparently was worth something. So something that the grand elder decided that the gem given to him nonetheless. Well, he wans’t complaining.

[Winterfount Drops] Token of Friendship from Ar’endalian Water’s Cohort. The meaning behind it depended on each party’s view of its possession.  Increase mana recovery speed up to 25% Water spell below second tier doubled their effectiveness. Water spell up to fourth tier had the mana requirement reduced up to 30% Increase affinity to water, ice, and frost. Further effect is runelocked. [Otherworldy Traveler] ????

Yeah. A treasure-grade item. The mana recovery increase alone was ...wow. Although the locked section was arguably a bit manipulative — the sprites were telling him that to unlock it he needed to you knew, ‘grow their budding relationship’. Which of course, fair. After all, he got what he wanted for the mana-aspected water; observing the teleportation geometric. This was a nice bonus. Great bonus. Kind of disappointing that he wasn’t a water mage though, his cold spell, [Freezing Ray], was ice-attribute. He meant he guessed he could use it to summon more distilled water? But what would that — huh. Huh... He could… yes. He could shorten the Perpou preparation to just three days instead of four! This thing basically octuple his effectiveness!

Walking down the aisle, he flashed a smile. Thin, a line, but this time, true. At least if that teleportation was a bust (which was likely) he still hadn’t come out of this empty-handed.