The spires of Remembrance pierced the morning sky, their white stone catching the sunlight. Our carriage wound through the outer districts, past crowded markets and bustling thoroughfares until we reached the central terminal.

  My joints creaked as I stepped down from the carriage. Nine days of sitting had taken their toll on my constructed body, which would need some repairs once I found proper lodging.

  "Here we are then." Helena smoothed her travel-worn dress. "The greatest city in all the northern kingdoms, they say."

  Kolm hefted their bags, his weathered face breaking into a warm smile. "Been too long since we visited the grandchildren, hasn't it?"

  "Far too long." Helena turned to me, her eyes soft with concern. She reached out and clasped my gloved hands in hers. "My dear widow, I know grief's shadow when I see it. Whatever darkness brought you here, remember this: life has a way of surprising us with joy when we least expect it."

  I nodded, touched by her kindness despite myself. She pulled me into an embrace, and I carefully controlled my mechanical body to return it without revealing my true nature.

  Romas approached, some of the tension gone from his shoulders. Perhaps sharing his burden had lifted it somewhat. "Thank you all for making this journey easier." His smile, though tired, reached his eyes. "I should go. The healers' district isn't far, and I've kept my Lily waiting long enough."

  "May the gods watch over you both," Helena said.

  We watched him disappear into the crowd, his steps quick despite his exhaustion. Helena squeezed my hand one final time before Kolm led her away, her voice already rising as she spotted one of her grandchildren across the terminal.

  I stood alone amidst the flow of travelers, my mechanical body concealed beneath the widow's clothes that had served me so well. The journey that began in Weath had brought me to Remembrance at last. But Helena's parting words echoed in my thoughts, a strange counterpoint to the fragments of ancient memory that still haunted me.

  Happy days finding me? I wasn't even sure what happiness meant to something like me, a broken thing of flesh and metal, carrying memories that might be lies.

  The terminal's bell tolled the hour, startling me from my thoughts. I adjusted my veil and picked up my bags. The Academy awaited, and I had more immediate concerns than questioning my capacity for joy.

  I stepped away from the terminal and into the streets of Remembrance, my mechanical legs freezing mid-stride at the overwhelming vista before me. The city stretched endlessly in every direction, a sea of white stone and graceful architecture that defied my expectations. Even within my fractured memories of grand places and bustling cities, nothing compared to this metropolis.

  At the heart of it all loomed a castle that pierced the clouds, its alabaster towers crowned with golden spires that caught the morning sun. The seat of the Kingdom of Aspiration's rulers commanded the skyline, a statement of power visible from every corner of the city.

  The crowds pressed around me, a river of humanity in all its forms. A dwarf merchant shouldered past, her intricate braids woven with golden threads, arguing prices with a tall sapien in expensive silks. A group of halfling children darted between the legs of passersby, their laughter rising above the general din of the street.

  My gaze lingered on an elven couple across the way. They were young; so terribly young. The woman couldn't have been more than twenty-five, yet laugh lines already creased the corners of her eyes. The sight sent a jolt through my systems. In my broken memories, elves lived for centuries, their age showing only in the wisdom of their eyes rather than their faces. But here was living proof of how much had changed.

  The press of bodies forced me to keep moving. I adjusted my veil, ensuring it covered my eyeless face completely. The sheer variety of races and cultures around me provided excellent cover; in this crowd, a tall widow in mourning clothes drew no second glances.

  A merchant's cart rolled past, laden with fresh bread that filled the air with its warm scent. The baker, a stout halfling woman, called out her wares in a sing-song voice. Behind her, a sapien street performer juggled gleaming daggers while a mixed crowd of children (dwarf, elf, and sapien alike) watched in delight.

  The city's energy thrummed through my mechanical frame. Each street revealed new wonders: fountains that sparkled with enchanted lights, market stalls selling goods from distant lands, scholars in their robes hurrying between grand libraries. My Assembly ability itched to examine the intricate mechanisms I glimpsed in shop windows, of clockwork creations that spoke of this city's technological advancement.

  As fascinating as the city was, I couldn't afford to dawdle. The Academy awaited, and every moment I spent in Remembrance increased the risk of discovery. I turned away from a particularly intriguing mechanical display in a craftsman's window.

  A blue notification flashed across my vision.

  My metaphorical heart skipped a beat. I brought up the entry and read it carefully:

  The crowd suddenly felt more threatening. Each guard I spotted made my joints lock for a fraction of a second. It seems as if word of Kolin's fate had finally reached the proper authorities. And, like we had planned, I had been blamed solely for it. Hopefully, the people of Weath would remain unpunished.

  I wove through the press of bodies, no longer caring to take in the sights. The port district lay to the east, marked by the forest of masts visible above the buildings. Salt air mixed with the smoke from the foundries as I approached the docks.

  A pair of city guards walked past. I kept my head down, letting my black veil hide my face. They passed without a second glance, but it took my nerves much longer to return to normal upon their passing.

  The docks sprawled before me, ships from every corner of the world packed tight against the wharves. Sailors shouted in dozens of languages while dock workers hauled cargo. The controlled chaos would make for excellent cover.

  Among the bustling crowd, a flash of green skin caught my eye. A goblin crew scurried across the deck of a merchant vessel, their movements quick and precise as they secured rigging. On the dock below, an orc's muscles bulged as he hoisted a crate that would have taken three humans to lift.

  My mechanical body froze mid-step. Intelligent monsters worked openly alongside humans, their interactions casual and familiar. A gruff sapien sailor tossed a coil of rope to his goblin shipmate, their coordinated movements speaking of long partnership. An orc foreman directed traffic on the wharf, his deep voice carrying over the din as both human and monster workers heeded his instructions.

  The sight caused me to stay still, shocked. It was strange, almost wrong, to see monsters moving so freely while I hid beneath my widow's veil.

  A young goblin girl darted past me, her arms full of ship's manifest papers. She navigated the crowd with practiced ease, earning nothing more threatening than the occasional annoyed glance when she squeezed between people.

  My hand drifted to my veil, ensuring it stayed in place. These monsters had found their place in society, carved out a niche where they could exist alongside humanity. But I was different. The system's blue text still hovered in my vision: Fugitive. My crimes marked me as something else entirely.

  An orc and a dwarf passed by, deep in conversation about cargo manifests. Neither spared me a glance. The dock workers, human and monster alike, moved around me like water around a stone, too busy with their tasks to notice a black-clad figure in mourning.

  I forced my legs to move, continuing down the wharf. The monsters here had built lives for themselves, found acceptance through honest work. But I couldn't afford to envy them. My path led elsewhere, into shadows where neither human nor monster would welcome me.

  I approached the harbormaster's office, a squat building that smelled of salt and old papers. Inside, clerks shuffled between towering stacks of manifests and ledgers. The walls held maps marked with shipping routes and weather patterns.

  I approached the clerk's desk, a young sapien with ink-stained fingers who barely glanced up from his ledger. My mechanical hand retrieved paper and quill from my bag, movements precise despite the layers of mourning clothes.

  Passage to Kingdom of Swords, I wrote in careful script. When depart?

  The clerk pointed me to a bench. I sat, my mechanical joints creaking beneath my dress. Other travelers came and went as I waited. Many were merchants arranging cargo shipments, sailors collecting papers, or passengers seeking faster routes than the inland roads.

  Two hours crawled past. A halfling clerk finally waved me to his desk. His beard, looking strange on his child-like face, was neatly trimmed, but his clothes showed ink stains and wrinkles from long hours at work.

  "Several ships heading to Orengaad in the Kingdom of Swords." He scratched notes in his ledger. "The Duke's Dagger sails with tomorrow morning's tide. Captain's willing to take on passengers."

  "That Kingdom of Swords," The halfling looked up, his expression grim. "Not the friendliest place, mind. Not proper lawlessness, of course, but rough. Place is composed mostly of adventurers and mercenaries, levels higher than you'd believe." He tapped his quill against the desk. "Folk there solve problems with steel more often than words."

  I gave the tiny man a nod in thanks. The destination sounded perfect; it was a place where people asked few questions and minded their own business.

  He huffed and gave me directions to find the Duke's Dagger, marking its berth on a small map. The ship's name felt like an ill omen, but I couldn't afford to be picky. My mechanical fingers crinkled the map's edge as I memorized the route.

  "Dock seventeen," he said. "Can't miss it. She's the one with the black sails."

  The Duke's Dagger loomed before me, its black sails rippling in the morning breeze. The vessel's wooden hull bore the scars of past voyages, patches and repairs visible along its length. Shorter figures darted across the deck: dwarves and halflings made up most of the crew, their compact frames well-suited to the ship's close quarters. Only one sapien moved among them, his white apron marking him as the cook.

  A dwarf with a flame-bright orange beard descended the gangplank. Muscles bulged beneath his rolled sleeves as he approached, his boots striking the dock with authority.

  "First Mate Garvis," he said, voice gruff but not unfriendly. "Looking for passage?"

  I nodded, producing paper and quill.

  To Orengaad, I wrote.

  "Sixty silver gets you there, meals included." He stroked his beard. "Ship's leaving with tomorrow's tide."

  My mechanical fingers twitched beneath my gloves. The thought of sharing space with other passengers while my body needed maintenance sent warnings through my systems.

  Private cabin available? I wrote.

  "Twenty more silver." Garvis shrugged. "Bit steep, but privacy's a luxury at sea."

  I hesitated. Eighty silver would drain most of my funds, but attempting repairs in the open wasn't an option. My Depository held enough items to sell once we reached port.

  I'll take it, I wrote, counting out the coins.

  Garvis pocketed the silver and handed me a small brass key. "Cabin three, portside. Welcome aboard the Duke's Dagger."

  I followed Garvis up the gangplank, my mechanical legs adjusting to the gentle sway of the ship. The deck creaked beneath my feet as I made my way past coils of rope and stacks of crates. A halfling sailor gave me a quick nod before returning to his work securing the rigging.

  The narrow corridor below deck smelled of salt and old wood. I counted the brass numbers on each door until I found cabin three. The key turned with a soft click.

  Inside, a hammock hung from hooks in the ceiling beams, swaying with the ship's motion. A small desk sat bolted to the floor beneath a porthole window, its surface scratched from years of use. The space was cramped, but the solitude it offered was worth every silver piece.

  As I closed the door behind me, a flash of memory struck. Massive warships filled my vision, their hulls reinforced with metal plates, decks bristling with ballistae and magical weaponry. Soldiers in gleaming armor moved in formation, their weapons crackling with enchantments. The fleet stretched to the horizon, sails emblazoned with symbols I almost recognized.

  The vision faded as quickly as it came, leaving me alone in the tiny cabin. My fingers traced the edge of the desk as questions swirled. Whose memory was that? The soldiers' armor matched nothing I'd seen in this age. The ships themselves seemed to belong to a different era entirely.

  I sat at the desk, my mechanical body creaking slightly. The maintenance I needed would have to wait until nightfall when the crew's activities died down. For now, I could only ponder these fragments of someone else's past that kept surfacing in my mind.