[Syliras Location] Mechanical Marvels

[Jaquise Emittere]

"An additional cost is to be expected in asking for another item. As for the Alchemists fire, it does explain a great deal. I had tried to avoid the places that were likely to charge me more then I had, no offense to your establishment of course."

Jaq took a moment to think. It seemed that this would turn out a great deal more expensive then he had hoped, but in the end should this man be able to provide him with said alchemists fire, perhaps future transactions would not run so high. That would mean in the long run he would save mizas, however that did not ease the wound in his purse that would come from this day's spending. "I am willing to pay for the further costs involved in obtaining the recipe. I trust you to be honest in the cost by saying this though." It was on odd thing, Jaq choosing to trust this man. He was hardly the kind of person that trusted often. This deGrey though left him thinking that perhaps it was not misplaced. At least not completely.

[Aneira Haimati]

Season of Winter, Day 40, 509 AV

Aneira arrived a bit later than she had planned.

The castle's other sights had caused her some distraction - especially the Great Bazaar. Rows and baskets of colourful trinkets and rarities, antique or trifle in turn, had her lingering down along the fifth tier. She had uncovered more than a few treasures that morning, reaching into her pocket to count her coins before deciding, each time, that even a successful barter wouldn't excuse such an unnecessary purchase. And so she had let each treasure go, with a resigned smile and a shrug.

She should be doing the selling, not the buying, she knew.

At long last, she had come upon the place she meant to go: Mechanical Marvels, as its wooden sign declared. Her father had told her of the place. A celebrated inventor, he had said of the proprieter, Alistair deGrey. He had never met deGrey, but his colleagues spoke well of him. She would find what she wanted, there.

As Aneira stepped inside, her nose was piqued by the scent of wood dust. Other smells mingled; ones she didn't recognize. "The smell of something being made," she said, quietly, to herself. "Creations."

Creations, indeed, were everywhere. As she peered into one case and another, her eyes reflected her enchantment, lighting with motes of gold. These, she thought, were treasures of the sort she had never seen. Clocks, certainly - but of this intricacy? - and the small, mechanical toys she had come to see.

Mesmerized, she had made her way all the way around the shop, completely fascinated. Even if there were anyone else there, she hadn't noticed. But as she came to the two windows gazing into the workshop itself, she peered in, momentarily stirred from her trance.

"Mr. deGrey?" she called, her voice hopeful.

[Alistair deGrey]

Aneira Haimati

The ceiling often failed to provide inspiration for Alistair; although its stoicness and lack of detail was reminiscent of a canvas. I suppose simplicity is not always a virtue. It was interesting, the common misconception. Many believed inventors to revel in complex machinery and inconceivable structures; however that could not be further from the truth. The less components in a machine, the more efficient it was, the more perfect. Yes it was good to accomplish more advanced tasks, but an inventors goal is to simplify, not overly complicate a subject. Inefficiency is pointless.

The ceiling. He continued to lay on his bed and stare into it. He was torn between a philtering experiment and finishing a clock he had begun earlier. Neither appealed to the proprietor, so he swung his legs off the side of his small bed and stood up. The fire he had forgotten continued to crackle and lick at the walls of his fireplace as he left the room, into the workshop.

Who is that? deGrey say the head of a small woman through the window. Odd, her voice must have gotten lost. Assuming she called for him at all. He usually got impressions of customers, from their eyes. It was always the eyes. The possibility of an intelligent customer that might provide an entertaining prospect always made him tense with anticipation. deGrey made to see her eyes more clearly as he moved into the display room, Yes, I see it. However, I can always be incorrect. Eyes do not guarantee an interesting prospect, after all. She looked slightly childish, and was short even when compared to deGrey.

"Hello my good madame. I assume you have something in mind yes? Most do when they enter this demesnes." deGrey waited, anxious for discovery.

[Aneira Haimati]

Upon his entrance, Aneira's eyes flitted from deGrey's head to his feet. There was no emotion in her eyes about the act - just simple observation.

He was tall, at least to her sense of measurement, and lanky. Many might have expected the strong, calloused hands and broad back of a worker, given the sheer amount of work he had apparently done. But it was delicate work, after all; and largely the work of the mind. She had had no expectations, but noted his appearance with an eye to detail.

A long, strange pause lingered between them as she completed this custom.

Then, finally, she got on with it and spoke.

"I've heard of your... the... automata, they are called?" She took a few steps over, gesturing to the encased toys. As she leaned to peer in, her dark hair curtained her face, the braided beads clanking against the marble counter. "I was hoping to purchase one. I'm a collector, and they seem so one-of-a-kind."

Looking in, she recalled a particular toy she'd cherished as a child. A doll. Carved well, and painted beautifully. Her nose rubbed off from my thumb. Nervous habit. Even now, a hand was buried in her cloak pocket, a gold miza stroked between two fingers. Having caught herself at the habit, she drew her hand out quickly, and stood back.

She looked to deGrey once more. "May I see one closer?"

[Alistair deGrey]

deGrey waited as the woman's eyes fluttered over him. It was interesting, watching another person examine him. I suppose this is how I must often look. Alistair stood board straight as he waited for her to speak, smoothing down his tunic as he noticed a ruffle where his belt was tied. Alistair brought his index finger to his upper lip and began tapping it, as if encouraging the silence. There it is. Her voice broke the quiet, the air held her inquiry.

She stepped forward, leaned forward, and her braid fell forward. The beads quietly making a metronome on the counter before finding equilibrium. deGrey responded to the woman's next comment, "I doubt they are unique, madame. It is indubitable that you would find another machine congruent to mine elsewhere." deGrey watched as she took a step back and raised her head. She posed another question, and deGrey obliged her by pulling opening the back of the counter and pulling out a girl that twirled in her box. Alistair set the girl on the cool marble and removed his hand.

[Aneira Haimati]

A smile danced across Aneira's lips as she examined the toy.

"Ah, but you're wrong, Mr. deGrey." She crouched to eye-level with the twirling doll, careful not to touch her, but studying her delicate movements intently. "Each creation is imbued with a bit of its creator. None are quite the same, even if they look exact. So, I have never seen one quite like this."

Aneira remained there, her just peering over the edge of the counter, the rest of her face hidden. Her eyes lit and twinkled at the little doll, never quite settling on one colour. "Yes, you are someone special," she murmured, to the toy. "You will feel quite at home with the rest of my collection, little dancer."

After a few moments, she rose, smiling vibrantly at deGrey. Something about the toy had clearly touched her, and the way she spoke, almost eerily, as if it were more than just a mechanical doll, showed her quick attachment to it.

"I want to take her with me. Would that be all right with you? Whatever price you ask." A slender hand slipped into her pocket, counting coins, and then she frowned. "Ah. Well, whatever price you ask... if it is reasonable, I suppose." Her eyebrows knitted together. "I seem to keep forgetting my limits. Coin runs low, after all, if you have not made any sales." She smiled. "You would know that just as well as I."

[Alistair deGrey]

Questions. They always plagued deGrey in his lucid hours, which sometimes involved his dreams. Queries about this and inquisitions as to that. Now he had another question with what may be a ready answer. "Yes madame, I am aware. Yet, I am curious, how would you know of such plights?" Alistair enjoyed learning, especially about the various store owners in Syliras. Ignorant people did not become entrepreneurs, each had his or her own contribution. "I cannot recall ever having seen your proprietorship before, where might I find it?" Perusing the stores of his colleagues often provided inspiration, since so many inventions required components he didn't have the skill himself to create.

The key turned easily, as Alistair idly turned it. Release of the turnkey forced the dancer to spin, and the man could almost see the cogs and axles he had put into the automaton not so long ago. "Oh yes," he caught himself, remembering the woman's interest, "This automata is three gold for you." deGrey pushed it forward, awaiting payment and answers.

[Aneira Haimati]

Aneira reached across witha palmful of coins to place into deGrey's hand.

A particular preference of hers, whenever making a trade, was to never simply leave the payment on the counter for the other person to fetch. A trade was an intimate transaction; a promise of the buyer to dutifully care for the purchase, and the seller had put some measure of trust into the new owner to do so, if not his very heart and soul into the item he had crafted. To simply toss coins in the face of such a promise seemed detached. You have to look a person in the eye, she thought. And so she did.

"Thank you." She admired the automaton in light of this exchange, but still did not pick it up. Then she turned to deGrey's question. "I have no shop as of yet. I've just traveled recently from Avanthal, and have mostly been attempting to make sales at the Bazaar. Masks," she added. "I craft masks and, at times, costumes."

[Alistair deGrey]

Inspiration was even better than questions. Alistair's mind was rocketed into rapid fire thought as he listened to the woman. Little bird, little bird. With no nest of your own. Business was not necessarily slow, but establishing another craftsman would be excellent. He began running over the numbers. A quota of 750 Mizas a season, if I had her, I could split that. Cuts to 375, 125 profit. deGrey held up a finger, indicating that she should stay. He commenced tapping this finger against his upper lip again. Only 250 start up though, supplemented by my income of course. Which will be cut, I need to provide her with income as well. Possibly eliminate Karrin, supply her with 4 gold income, and reduce mine to 7. 5 gold per day. Possibly.

deGrey held up his finger again and moved back to his workshop. Rummaging around his desk provided a small scrap of parchment. He came back with an inkwell, quill, and the parchment. Alistair's handwriting was not fantastic, but it was far from horrid. His hand recorded most of what he had just considered, except for firing his current employee of course. "I assume you want a salary then? I am willing to pay up to six gold. However, keep in mind that you may need to dip into this in order to purchase supplies." Alistair looked up at the woman. He blinked a few times, realizing that he had gotten ahead of himself.

[Aneira Haimati]

As deGrey wandered into the workshop and back out, toting along his writing supplies, Aneira waited. Her eyebrows lifted in slow intervals, from the first of his raised fingers to the second, and then knitted together as she attempted to translate his handwriting.

It was obvious to her that his mind was working. She could practically see the cogs turning and tuning the concentration on his face. But for a long moment, with no sound but the scratch of his quill between them, she wondered if he wasn't a little insane.

Are these numbers he's writing? Or - ah, is that, does that say - good gods, is he detailing a bill of payments for me? Three gold for the doll today and the rest in installments? She opened her mouth to protest, but then came that finger of his again, tapping, and it was effective in snapping her mouth shut. Then deGrey spoke, and Aneira stared at him, bewilderment shadowing her eyes, for a moment, before she replied.

"Salary? You want me to work for you?" She sighed thoughtfully, her eyes roaming about the shop in consideration. It wasn't exactly what she wanted to do, selling these sorts of things, even if she was fascinated by them and she did need the gold. It was quite forward of him to assume she would accept to work for him without even asking, and... then it registered. "Supplies? You... oh! You are offering me a place to sell my masks?" Her voice crept up in octaves as she spoke, and the sentence was punctuated with a hopeful intake of breath at the end.