The City Calls (Solo)

[Fenilen]

Spring 38th, 511 AV

Another day, another project. Another project, another set of skills to learn. Once that set of skills had been learned, more projects. Rinse and repeat. Fenilen’s life had fallen into a painfully predictable cycle, one that he was more than a little irked by the existence of. In Avanthal, this had been broken by days on end where he was allowed to roam amongst the people. He would meet new faces, learn their ways of life, attempt to understand new ways of thinking. Here? Everyone bore one singular love, and that love was their work. Be it hunting or nurturing babies that were not even theirs, they loved their work for two reasons. The first was that it was what fed them, and the second was that it was what society taught them to love. No one in Wind Reach loved anything other than their work, because that was what society taught them to love from the first day of their lives. They found no enjoyment, no fulfillment in anything other than working for their meals. Put bluntly, it was a glum and depressing world for one who had seen the outside world, seen how people could love interacting with people, love interacting with the world, Gods, even enjoy life in general. All three just felt taboo in the great city of Wind Reach. Maybe seeing other places had just made him a pessimist. Fenilen made a note to sit down and dissect the good and the bad of the city he called home when he was not busy fulfilling the whims of The City.

One of the mirror that reflected light into the depths of The City had been damaged or some way or another, and as such, it was up to Fenilen and a few other men and women, specializing in other crafts, to replace the mirror. He was to provide the glass and oversee the entire construction process. As for the other two… well, he didn’t exactly know what they were there for. He would just have to find out.

Mirrors start as panels of glass. This would have to be a very large panel of glass, as large mirrors were necessary to reflect the light needed into the depths of the mountain. Fenilen stretched his arms as he yawned, his tongue curling ever so slightly within his mouth. It was too early in the morning for him to be up, he thought, but he was up none the less, for that was what The City demanded. He snorted a little. The City. Might as well be a God with the reverence it demanded. Panels of glass. His eyes scanned the Hotshop as heat assailed every inch of his body. The Hotshops were exposed to lava to heat the furnaces to the temperatures necessary to melt glass, and as such, as their name suggested somewhat sinisterly, were always boiling hot. It was only a brief moment longer before Fenilen found the glass panels. Booted feet carried him swiftly across the open ground until they were before him, where he quickly claimed one and brought it to the little workspace he had marked as his own, conveniently next to a furnace.

Grabbing a ladle, he dipped it into the depths of the furnace, removing it only once it was full of the burning elixir. Silently, focusing so that he would not repeat the events of the tragic accident two years prior, Fenilen poured the molten glass into the mold. Ladle-full by ladle-full, inch by inch he filled the panel. Eventually, every portion of the panel was filled with a healthy amount of glass. He pressed the open top of the ladle down on the top portion of the glass, using the edges to even out the distribution of the liquid. Small grunts of exertion left his lips as his hand, ladle included, skimmed over the panel a few brief times, broken only by a few long pauses where he dropped down until it was at eye level. Ignoring the heat the radiated off of it and assailed his exposed face, drying the water from his eyes, he attempted to judge how level the surface was. Every time he went down, however, something was wrong. After several minutes of trying to level out the glass, it became obvious that it would not be leveled out before it cooled with a simple ladle. As he processed this dilemma, his eyes fell upon a large, straight piece of metal, simply sitting around. Quickly, he scurried over to it, a small grin and a quick prayer of thanks to Priskil leaving his lips as he scooped it up in his hands, taking it back to his workplace.

A little more glass replaced the glass that had already been lost. Pleased with the amount of glass in the mold, Fenilen drew the metal piece along the length of the panel, leveling out the liquid much quicker and much more easily. Pleased, he cleaned off the metal with a jack, scraping the cooling glass into a metal waste bin. He then—stealthily, of course, in case the metal held some purpose he had interrupted—returned the metal to the location he had found it in. Fenilen wiped the sweat from his brow, shaking his hair wildly, as if it would magically find its way back into a suitable position. All he had to do now was wait for the glass to cool, a process that took about as long as it sounded like it took. Sadly, with a piece this size, the cooling had to be watched to make sure that it cooled evenly and without cracks. Fenilen lifted the panel off the table, grunting ever so slightly. The extra weight of the glass was always surprising, especially for one who hadn’t worked with panels in ages. Quickly, he deposited the panel in a freshly started annealer, settling down on the floor next to it. Pale hands wiped the sweat from his chest, while the arms they rested upon folded across his breast.

Twenty bells past, and he rose off the ground, pulling the panel out of the annealer. Dodging the other artisans that moved around the Hotshop, he made his way to a table, and rested the panel upon it, giving the cooling glass a once over. No cracks so far. Good. He lifted the panel back up and placed it back into the annealer, waiting yet again for the time when he was to check it. It hit him that he could be doing something simple and non-time consuming like molds right now, but why bother? A little smirk played across his face.

What The City wanted, The City received. Exactly and precisely.

[Fenilen]

The City received its panel. After freeing it from the confines of the iron frame, Fenilen examined the glass panel silently, making sure that there were no obvious defects. Once he was satisfied, he slung it under his arm and began his quick walk over to where he had seen mirrors made out of the corner of his eye before. Apparently, the two people was to be working with had gotten more information on him than he had on them—or he was running late—because they rushed out from the crowd to greet him in but an instant. One was a woman, the other a man. Only after the panel was safely placed down upon their work table did anyone bother with introductions.

“Fenilen,” was all he spared for the pair, paying attention to them for a brief moment to learn their names. “Kaveska” was the woman, a reimancer, judging by the scars that decorated her arms and back in a matter that was eerily similar to Fenilen’s own initiation scars. “Patr” was the name of the other, and according to him, he was a philterer. Interesting. The thought crossed Fenilen’s mind that maybe he would finally get to see what all of the fancy devices he had to make exactly to specification were used for in this art. Kaveska and Fenilen settled down at a table while Patr went to work with his fancy glass tubes and apparatuses, doing something with an uncanny amount of silver powder and a fizzing blue liquid. Fenilen only followed his movements for a few minutes before getting completely and utterly bored, choosing to rest his red-haired head upon a pillow made of his gangly arms instead. In his opinion, it was a little more productive than trying to understand something he knew he could not. Just as he was nodding off to sleep, the voice of Kaveska broke into his tranquil state of half-sleep.

“Aren’t you the glassworker that lived amongst the People of the North for two seasons?” she inquired curiously. Fenilen could feel her eyes digging into him, but he didn’t bother to sit up to meet her gaze. Instead, he remained in the position he was in, arms cushioning his head, eyes closed. A little grunt of confirmation left the depths of his throat, but she already knew the answer. The next question, evidently, had been pre-planned, by the speed with which it left her full, youthful lips. “What was it like up there?” Naturally, with such an open question, and such a conversational man before her, Fenilen answered with more than a little bit of bite in his voice, hoping that she would pick up that he wished to be left alone to his rest.

“Cold,” was all he said to her, which received a slight chuckle. “No, really?” she responded, her tone now a little more serious and a lot less entertained. “Explain.”

Fenilen grumbled, turning his head so that his chin rested on his arm as his eyes looked across the small table at Kaveska. “Have you ever, Kaveska, been out on the uppermost parts of the mountain during the most brutal winter storms? No? Imagine that cold and that snow increased twofold, and you have a mild day in the North. It’s cold. Very cold,” with his snarky comments now free and in the open, he brought his head back to the cushion produced by his own body and closed his eyes once more.

This time, he was awaken by a light shake from Patr and his deep voice, which declared that the silver powder was ready for the mirror making procedure. Relieved, Fenilen rose to his feet, rubbing his hands together. “Now what?” he inquired curiously, lifting up the panel in his hands. Patr looked at him with a glance that asked ‘you’ve seriously never done this before?’ rolled his eyes, and began speaking yet again. “Hold the panel in the water. That’s it. We’ll take care of the rest,” Fenilen nodded in acknowledgement, but in his head, was wondering why they needed to steal an Avora to do something like hold a pane of glass inside of a pool of water. Without vocal complaint, however, he lowered the pane into the pool of water before him, watching as it broke the surface of the water disinterestedly. After a moment, Patr poured his mixture into the vat, and after yet another long wait—something that seemed endemic to today—Kaveska began her part of the job. She reached her Res out into the water, mixing and stirring it with an experienced mind. Fenilen hardly paid attention. All he could think about was how this would soon be over, and how The City would soon have its new mirror. Light would be brought to all who lived within its dark, dank confines. Wondering what was taking so long and why the water was becoming so warm, Fenilen opened his eyes and looked at the once panel.

Silver was piecing itself together on one side of the mirror as the water moved the blue, silver-bearing liquid against it. Fenilen watched in awestruck wonder as the blue liquid pasted itself to one side of the mirror with the currents of the water, only to be stripped off, leaving the glittering silver behind when it departed. Slowly but surely, it crept up the length of the huge mirror, eventually reaching where his hands were placed. Realizing his fault, he moved his hands to the corners, holding it from there instead of from the center. Silently, he admired the skill of the reimancer next to him, trying to figure out how she could multitask and focus so well on a task that seemed like it would fall apart at but the slightest disturbance. Soon, the entire backside was coated, and he liberated it from the warm confines of the water. The air around them felt humid, which was completely out-of-the-ordinary for the volcano, and Fenilen couldn’t help but notice that the hair on his arms were standing on end. Eager to see the piece that had taken more than a full day’s worth of work to complete, it placed one edge down on the ground and stared into it.

Within the mirror, he saw a reflection of himself. He saw every scar upon his chest, ever freckle upon his face, every strand of hair upon his head in an almost surreal detail. A small smile managed to break out on his face, displaying his teeth to the mirror. This was him the mirror, and although he was unable to control The City, he was able to influence it. He would change this place, make it so that the people could love more than their work. But first, he would change himself. He would bring back the old Fenilen, the one that had existed before They had ruined him. The City had their mirror. The People had their light.

He had his Hope. Priskil knows the power that brings any man.

[Flicker]

Fenilen’s XP Award: Philosophy 3 Glassworking 2 Organization 2 Fen’s Lore Award: Being a pessimistic cynic that can’t find the fun in life Making panels of glass Ladling molten glass Straight pieces of metal smooth better than ladles The skills necessary to make a mirror Comments: I’m glad Fen’s coming back. I don’t like him as a jerk. I might maim him if he takes too long coming back. Just kidding. Maybe. As usual, great job with your writing, it’s always quick and enjoyable to read.