Over the next few hours, Jamie delved deeper into his plans with Thomas, the two of them huddled over the worn map spread out on the tavern table. The glow of lanterns cast dancing shadows around them as Jamie outlined what needed to be done and the strict code he lived by.

  "These are the rules I operate under," Jamie said firmly, his gaze steady on Thomas. "No one under my command may break them, even if our opponents choose to ignore such principles."

  Thomas listened intently, eyebrows occasionally rising in surprise at some of the tenets Jamie insisted upon. Some rules seemed rigid, perhaps even burdensome, in a place as ruthless as the Lower Quarter. Yet, there was an undeniable conviction in Jamie's voice. It was a confusing combination of a skewed moral compass with another pointing steadfastly north.

  When Jamie finished, Thomas sat back thoughtfully. "I have to admit," he said slowly, "I didn't expect such... stringent guidelines. But I respect them and agree to abide by each one."

  A satisfied smile touched Jamie's lips. "I'm glad to hear it."

  Thomas glanced toward the tavern's entrance, where the first rays of sunlight seeped through the cracks. "I need to take Julie home," he said, referring to his young daughter still sleeping. "After I return, I can show you where Knall's workshop is. That's our next step, isn't it?"

  "Exactly," Jamie affirmed.

  "Very well," Thomas said, standing up. "I won't be long."

  "Take your time," Jamie replied. "I'll be here when you get back."

  As Thomas left, Jamie made his way back upstairs to his quarters. Jay, his ever-present companion, followed silently beside him. Though Jay's expression remained indifferent, his eyes betrayed a keen interest in what had transpired.

  "What did you think?" Jamie asked, turning to face Jay.

  Jay lounged casually against the wall, arms crossed. "He'll be quite useful," he remarked. "But don't forget the risks you're taking."

  Jamie chuckled softly. "You warning me about risks, Jay? That's rich."

  Jay's gaze sharpened. "He has a daughter," he pointed out. "Don't unintentionally break your own rules."

  Jamie paused the weight of the comment sinking in. "You're right."

  "Just keep it in mind," Jay advised before moving to sprawl atop the bed, eyes drifting toward the ceiling.

  Hours later, as the sun rose high above the rooftops. Eliza made her way back to the tavern for her first official shift.

  Entering, she spotted Jamie behind the bar, organizing bottles and wiping down the recently polished wood surface.

  "Ah! You're alive?!" she called out teasingly, a playful grin spreading across her face.

  Jamie looked up, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Without a doubt," he replied, feigning indignation. "Did you truly think a mere Monster Rush would be enough to do me in?"

  She laughed, the sound light and melodic. "Perhaps just a little," she admitted, her expression softening. "I might have been a little worried."

  He leaned forward on the bar, resting his chin on his hand. "I'm touched by your concern," he said with exaggerated sincerity.

  Eliza rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. "Don't let it go to your head."

  Their banter was interrupted as the tavern door swung open with a sudden force. Thomas stepped through the threshold, fatigue evident in the slump of his shoulders and the shadows under his eyes.

  "We're closed for now," Eliza said quickly, moving toward him with a hand raised, intent on stopping any premature patrons. "You'll have to come back later."

  "Don't worry, Eliza," Jamie interjected from behind the bar. "He's with us. I hired him yesterday."

  Eliza turned back, confusion flickering across her face. "You did?"

  "I did," Jamie confirmed, coming around the bar to join them. "Eliza, meet Thomas—our new guard."

  "Guard?" she repeated, eyebrows raised in surprise.

  "Yes," Jamie said. "The Lower Quarter can be unpredictable, and I felt it wise to have someone to ensure the safety of our patrons and staff."

  A spark of appreciation lit in Eliza's eyes. "That's... wonderful," she said sincerely. "It's about time someone thought of that."

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  Thomas offered a modest smile. "I'll do my best to keep things peaceful."

  Eliza extended her hand. "Welcome aboard, Thomas. I'm Eliza."

  He shook her hand gently. "Pleasure to meet you."

  "Eliza, could you continue with the cleaning? I'm off to find Knall," Jamie said briskly, his eyes already drifting toward the door. "Oh, and we should be expecting some barrels of wine delivered for tonight's opening."

  Before Thomas could utter another word to the young woman, Jamie pulled him along. Thomas barely had a chance to cast an apologetic smile at Eliza before being swept out of the tavern.

  They stepped into the bustling streets, the morning sun casting shadows across the cobblestones. As they advanced south of the Commercial Quarter, Thomas began pointing out various landmarks along the docks—the best trading posts, hidden gems among the market stalls, and even the secluded areas where clandestine fights took place under the cover of darkness.

  "I spent a long time trying to become a soldier," Thomas explained, his gaze distant as memories surfaced. "Those underground fights helped a lot; it was an easy way to earn money."

  Jamie glanced at him, surprised by the revelation. "I didn't realize there was such a... vibrant underground economy."

  Thomas chuckled softly. "Oh, there's more to this city than meets the eye. The shadows often hold the most activity."

  They continued along the shoreline, the scent of salt and sea mingling with the aromas wafting from street vendors' carts. As they neared the end of the beach, a peculiar building came into view—a modest workshop with a large chimney, puffing plumes of black smoke into the sky.

  "That's Knall's laboratory," Thomas said, nodding toward the structure. "Most of the time, he helps out with brews and potions. But he dabbles in a bit of everything."

  Jamie observed the building with interest. It stood out among the surrounding edifices because of its billowing smoke, massive sliding doors, and unique blend of stone and dark timber.

  "It certainly has character," Jamie remarked.

  They approached one of the enormous doors, left slightly ajar. Thomas pushed it open further, calling out, "Knall? Knall?"

  Silence greeted them. Thomas frowned, stepping inside. "Are you in the workshop?" he shouted, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. Still, no response. "He never leaves this place. That's odd."

  As Jamie crossed the threshold, his senses were immediately assaulted by a myriad of aromas—some sweet like honey and lavender, others pungent and sharp enough to make his eyes water. The workshop's interior was vast, extending upward to a second floor accessible by a wrought-iron spiral staircase. The building was constructed of sturdy wood and dark stones, giving it an air of antiquity. High windows and a few strategically placed skylights allowed shafts of light to pierce the dimness, illuminating dust particles and aiding in the ventilation of chemical fumes.

  Every wall was lined with shelves, and every shelf was crammed with glass vials and jars in an array of shapes and sizes. Some containers held vibrant, glowing liquids that seemed almost alive, shifting and swirling of their own accord. Others housed dried herbs, curious minerals, or preserved creatures—small rodents, insects, even a few things Jamie couldn't readily identify. A few substances pulsed gently as if possessing a heartbeat, while others sat inert, appearing as innocuous as water.

  In the center of the space stood several robust wooden tables cluttered with alchemical instruments—delicate glassware, intricate scales, mortar and pestle sets, and numerous cauldrons simmering over low flames. Strange apparatuses with tubes and coils gurgled softly, their purposes a mystery to the untrained eye.

  Jamie walked slowly, his footsteps muffled by the thick rugs strewn across the stone floor. Each step was taken with care, and his eyes were wide with wonder and caution. He reached out to examine a nearby shelf, attempting to read the labels on the vials. Some were inscribed in the Common language, detailing contents like "Essence of Nightshade" or "Powdered Ruby." Others bore the angular, rune-like script of the Dwarven language, which was indecipherable to him.

  "Knall's work is... extensive," Jamie murmured.

  "He's a genius in his own right," Thomas agreed. "Though his methods are sometimes... unconventional."

  Jamie picked up a worn notebook lying open on one of the tables. Scrawled across the pages were diagrams and notes, some in Common, others in Dwarven. Complex formulas intertwined with sketches of mechanical devices and botanical specimens.

  "Knall? Knall?" Thomas's voice rang out as he ventured deeper into the dimly lit workshop, his footsteps echoing on the worn stone floor. The air was heavy with the mingled scents of rare herbs, smoldering metals, and arcane concoctions bubbling in glass alembics.

  "Maybe he's upstairs?" Jamie suggested, eyeing the shadowed staircase that spiraled to the second level.

  "Perhaps." Thomas began navigating through the labyrinth of workbenches and towering shelves, intent on finding the stairs.

  "What's that on the floor?" came a soft whisper. It was Jay, whose voice only Jamie could hear.

  "What?" Jamie turned sharply, following Jay's gaze. But before he could see, Thomas's alarmed shout cut through the haze of the workshop.

  "Knall?!"

  Thomas sprinted toward one of the massive cauldrons, concern etched across his face. Jamie hurried after him, his heart pounding with a sudden rush of apprehension.

  Lying sprawled upon the rough-hewn stone floor was Knall, the dwarven alchemist. His formidable body looked out of place against the cold ground—a titan of muscle and grit brought low. His beard was a magnificent cascade of fiery red, so vast and vibrant it seemed woven from strands of molten lava. It spilled over his broad chest, intricately braided and adorned with faintly glowing runic beads.

  Knall's skin bore the ruddy hue characteristic of his kin, weathered by countless years of toiling over roaring forges and intricate experiments. His muscular arms, still tense even in unconsciousness, were encircled by heavy bronze bracers etched with protective sigils.

  Clutched firmly in his calloused hand, a small wooden pipe, its tendrils of smoke still curling lazily upward in delicate spirals.

  "Knall?" Thomas's voice cracked with worry as he knelt beside the dwarf, gently shaking his shoulder. "Can you hear me?"

  Jamie dropped to one knee on the opposite side, his gaze scanning Knall's face for any sign of consciousness. The alchemist's eyes were closed, and his ordinarily robust complexion had paled slightly.

  Jamie reached for Knall's thick wrist without wasting another moment, pressing his fingers against the pulse point. A fleeting thought crossed his mind. ‘Let’s hope a dwarf's pulse isn't too different from a human's.’

  For a tense few seconds, there was nothing. Then, a faint but discernible beat thrummed beneath his fingertips.

  "His heart's still beating," Jamie announced, relief mixing with urgency. "But it's weak. We need to act."

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